Blood Diaries
Copyright© 2026 by ArthurianMorgaine
Chapter 6: A Night to Remember
Fantasy Sex Story: Chapter 6: A Night to Remember - A college student’s long-distance romance takes a dark turn when her mysterious fiancé reveals an impossible truth: he is an immortal predator who survives on blood. Drawn into his hidden world of secret societies, supernatural power, and moral hunting, she must decide whether eternal life beside him is worth abandoning humanity.
Caution: This Fantasy Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Slavery Fiction Paranormal Vampires
Dean and Nathan got permission to use Ruby’s back room to change into their new suits, and they joined us out by the car. We were quite a sight to see; the men in classic suits and Kittie and I in large billowing dresses with tight corsets. Kittie sat in the back with me, and Nathan drove with Dean playing navigator; it would have been impossible for her to drive anyway. Kittie and I communicated telepathically and held hands as we headed out of town.
“You know what would be cute?” I asked, not waiting for an answer, “If Dean and Nathan held hands!”
“Awww, you are so right! Maybe if we think hard enough, we can put our thoughts into their heads!” Kittie suggested.
“Hmmm ... it’s so harebrained it just might work. I think we just have to do like in the movies and squint really hard, and it will happen,” I said, trying to get a laugh out of her, but she took me seriously.
She peered at Nathan harshly, her brow furrowed and her lips pursed. I tapped her on the shoulder and demonstrated it a little better, this time with my head tilted to the side, and then we did it in unison. Nathan had glanced back at us in the rear-view mirror and gazed at us as if we were crazy. Dean gave us a quick look and then turned to Nathan curiously. Dean outstretched his hand, and Nathan took hold of it! We had done it ... or maybe not. I heard a metallic clank and realized that in Dean’s hand was the seventy-five cents for the toll ahead.
We burst into peals of laughter, rolling around in our seats as much as the safety belts would allow. Nathan rolled his eyes and dismissed it as just another joke he will never fully appreciate.
“What is with them? Are they always this goofy around each other?” Dean asked.
“Yeah, pretty much, but at least before they had to whisper, and I could make out bits and pieces. Now I am totally clueless!” Nathan replied.
We had calmed down considerably, just the slight chuckle here and there. Kittie and I got comfortable and settled down for a little catnap. I brought up most of my skirt into my lap and made a mound for Kittie to rest her head on. She slid her seatbelt behind her back, so only the lap restraint was on, and she leaned over and dozed off. I removed the circlet from her head and played with her soft hair like I had done so many times when we were in high school.
Dean proceeded to recline his seat, and he offered me his hand, which I gladly accepted. He kissed it softly, suckled my fingertips, and pressed my palm to his face. Kittie was fast asleep by now, dreaming of fields and pretty crowns made out of wildflowers. Dean exposed my wrist and licked it with a stiff tongue. He punctured the soft flesh with his teeth and nursed on it. I felt the heat rising in my body, and he offered it to Nathan. Nathan was a bit reluctant, but his animal instincts gave in, and he licked the trail of blood off my arm and continued driving. I took back my wrist, which had nearly healed, and I gently pressed it to Kittie’s mouth, where she subconsciously began to feed.
I stuck my tongue out at Dean and remarked, “Kittie isn’t such a messy eater!”
Everyone had fed off of me, and I felt an odd magnetism towards them. They each held a part of me that seemed to draw me closer. I had to pull my wrist away for fear of not having enough energy to withstand the night. Dean leaned over and kissed me, and I took this opportunity to take back some of my blood. I licked and sucked on his neck like mortal lovers do. He must have known what I intended because his neck relaxed, and his head lay limp on the seat, exposing that wonderful, pulsing vein. The warm, red liquor came spurting into my mouth, though I thought I had only made a tiny incision. After a few moments, I felt I had taken enough and pressed my tongue firmly to the wound until it healed.
I felt like I should rest, and I took Dean’s jacket and draped it over myself. He stared at me while I slept. I could feel it, but I didn’t mind. Kittie stirred occasionally and let out a soft groan as she readjusted her position. Dean guided Nathan to take an exit that would lead us to dinner, but we still had thirty minutes of time to kill until we would be at our destination.
We pulled into the valet parking row just as the sun was going down, and the automatic path lights were turning on. The restaurant was like the other French one he took me to; too fancy for me to feel comfortable no matter how I dressed or how much money I had. Dean walked up to the maître d’ and said something in French, and the man replied, “Oui, monsieur,” and he hurriedly escorted us to a table by the window.
“I didn’t know Dean spoke French!” Kittie remarked.
“Neither did I!”
Our waiter rushed out and introduced himself, using a heavy French accent. “Hello, my name is Robert, and I will be serving you tonight. May I suggest the shrimp bisque? It is made with the freshest shrimp in the Northeast. And for a main course, we have a seafood dish that includes steamed Maine lobster tail with butter and white wine sauce, salmon parcels, and marinated mussels. All of our desserts are à la carte, but we have many tarts, pastries, and a whole array of chocolates that are very popular with the ladies.”
“All of it sounds really good, Robert. I love the bisque here, so if you guys don’t mind, I can get us all started with that,” Dean said as we all nodded. “And can we get a bottle of champagne? That should be enough for now.”
“Oui, monsieur. I will be right back,” Robert said as he left us to peruse our menus.
We each had our unique tastes; Dean liked rich sauces and hearty meats, Kittie and I loved fresh flavors mixed with other light dishes, and Nathan liked the seafood that was available in the Northeast, but we all found that the shrimp bisque was a nice start to an exceptional meal. I ordered first, picking the broiled trout with a side of steamed asparagus and a salad, while Kittie ordered a chef’s salad and fettuccine Alfredo. Dean and Nathan both ordered the seafood platter that Robert had described and a salad.
We talked and ate our food, and the waiter checked in on us and removed the empty plates often. When we were finished with our dinner, Kittie and I sampled some of the chocolates, and we all split a miniature cheesecake. Dean paid for the meal and gratuity with cash, and we headed out. We still had plenty to do tonight.
Dean said that he needed to feed once more tonight, and everyone but me shared those sentiments. Nathan pulled over, and Kittie got out and walked to the street corner.
“I think I have turned her on to feeding off of the womanizers,” Dean remarked as he got out of the car to help.
Nathan had stayed behind with me. “Go, feed. I will be fine here,” I told him, and he left me alone.
I watched the grizzly scene from the car; Kittie had stood on the corner like a prostitute, and Dean acted like he was her pimp while Nathan hid in the dark, out of the beam of the streetlight. An SUV pulled up, and the driver was talking to Kittie. He was thinking about taking advantage of her, so I didn’t feel too bad when she bashed his face into the steering wheel. The passenger got out and attempted to beat her, but he was caught by the men and drained easily while Kittie took the life of the unconscious driver. I must have had some of my mortal frame of mind because I thought it all was brutish and barbaric. I had to turn away while they set the scene to look like a car accident.
They came back, not a tear in their clothing, not a spatter of blood anywhere. The only thing that told of the murder was the smell of fresh human blood on their breath. We drove off, but the smell in the car was purely intoxicating, and I felt I would black out.
“You need to eat! Why do you do this to yourself; suffer like you do? You need not be strong around us,” Kittie said.
She leaned towards me, and I felt the smell take over all of my senses. She presented that lovely artery of her neck to me. She had fed more than the men, not sharing her kill, so I figured she meant to share it with me. My eyes rolled back as I pricked that soft skin, and the fresh, red-hot blood filled my mouth instantaneously. I stopped after only a few mouthfuls, and Kittie was upset but forgiving.
We pulled up to a large metal gate with an intercom, and a metallic voice greeted us, “Hello, Welcome to The Château. May I have your names, please?”
“I am Nathan Boan, and I have my wife, Kayla Boan. Harold Hunter is here with his fiancé, Dana Roeske,” Nathan chimed in.
“Hello, Mr. Hunter, it has been quite a while since you have been here, fifty years by my count. We do have new rules here, sir; no mortals are allowed, even if they are your guests,” the voice said, the voice of a man from long ago.
“Jean, I never brought mortals in the past; you know that! All of these people are my fiancé’s dear friends; all are blessed with The Gift,” Dean replied.
“Welcome to The Château,” Jean said as the gate opened mechanically.
We pulled into the large circular driveway, and a house came into view. It was one of those houses where the structure was old, but all the rooms had been gutted out a while ago, and electric lighting and modern amenities were installed. We parked the car, and the men escorted us out.
“You are just going to leave the car there?” I asked.
“Once we go inside, a valet will come out and park it for us. Please relax, have a little fun,” Dean said, holding my hand lovingly.
The doors seemed to open by magic, but I knew they were just like the automatic doors at the supermarket. The paintings on the walls rivaled those of Botticelli, but vampire artists made them all, artists whose talent was only heightened by The Gift. The images were so realistic and vivid that it seemed as if you could hear their conversations, or the clanging of swords, or the gentle breezes through the meadow. Each work of art was framed in a gilded frame and had a shiny gold plaque with the creator’s name and the title of his work, and all of the plaques glittered down the hall under the spotlights.
I could have stared at the paintings for hours; vivid watercolors, rich oils, elaborate sketches of battle scenes. None of these paintings were grotesque, like someone would typically think a ‘savage’ creature would choose to represent. But Dean dragged me on, and we walked out of the hall into a ballroom.
A bright light illuminated from the crystal chandeliers, which immediately drew your eye up to the ceiling. It was an immense room with dome ceilings that had a geometric pattern carved in it. The ceiling was painted with rich browns, creams, and trimmed in gold. The music resonated from an entire orchestra that was assembled towards the back wall, but none of the players were mortal. The percussion instruments were struck with fury and power, the bows raced across their strings, and the piccolo player never lost her breath despite the speed of the music. All of my senses were overtaken, and I was in awe of the lavishness.
People who greeted Dean as if he were royalty, saying things like, “It’s been so long!” and “Come talk and tell us your stories,” quickly surrounded us. He smiled graciously. A man came up and gave him a hearty handshake and a warm hug.
“My good man, it is nice to see you after so long!” said the man, and I recognized his voice from the intercom at the front gate.
“Hello Jean, my good friend, is Marco or Nickolaus here?”