Chapter 2: Chained

Damien's corpse slumped in the hot tub style bathtub, his vampiress wife and murder still straddled him, convulsing in orgasm as she sucked the last drops of his blood from his neck. Scarlet spread through the steaming water.

Even now, the change transformed Damien. It would be an hour or more before his corpse awakened to undeath. The angel Aurora sighed in disgust as she watched from the Ether, the realm that lay between the Spiritual and the Material Realms. Damien was too good of a man for her intervention to change this fate.

Aurora hated the rules place upon her and her angelic brethren. For every intervention Heaven made, Hell was granted an equal nudge. Even now, some demon was exploiting Aurora's attempted seduction of Damien.

And it was all for naught. Our tool is on their side.

Aurora turned to Gideon. The lesser angel hovered near her, holding a ledger. Silver glasses rested on his serious face. They were an affectation. Angels could be clothed in any appearance, the only limitation was the sex they could choose. Aurora would always be female, Gideon male.

"What are the odds of success now?" Aurora asked.

There had been a small hope Damien would have detected his wife's transformation into a vampire and reacted in time to save his life. He had been a skilled Knight Venator, slaying dozens of vampires. If he had lived, his righteous vengeance would have led to the enemy's death.

"Almost zero without another intervention," Gideon answered. "Our projections do not end well for Damien."

"And there is a chance that, even turned, we can use him as our sword?" Aurora found that unlikely. Dark hungers would grow in him, erasing the good man.

"Yes," Gideon nodded. "It requires an intervention upon a vampire. It may not work at all, but it if does, the odds improve dramatically. Damien's motivations will be unchanged. He will act as our sword, desiring vengeance."

"And how shall we stop Damien once we are finished using him?"

"That is a problem for later," Gideon answered. "We have a chance to strike a major blow against the enemy. We cannot balk at the tools we have been given."

If only my intervention on Abigail had worked. The odds had been high. But the woman was too dedicated to the hunt to have been swayed. Aurora watched Abigail as she climbed out of the bath, dragging the corpse of her husband behind her.

"She is too much like her husband," Aurora said bitterly. "We lost two beautiful souls because we are bound by these rules!"

"Aurora," gasped Gideon. "You tread on dangerous grounds."

Aurora let go of her anger. "And what happened to Jezebel? Why isn't that harpy swarming around?"

"I do not know," Gideon answered as he studied his clipboard. "She doesn't seemed focused on Damien at all."

"Then why was she lurking around him in New Mexico?"

Jezebel had her arms wrapped around Father Augustine's neck as the distinguished, older priest drove the van through Colorado on his journey back to Chicago. The priest was Damien and Abigail's chaplain, their spiritual guidance and their connection back to the Jesuit Order that funded the pair of Hunters. He was tall and still strong as he entered his middle years, with wings of gray spreading from his temple through is dark hair.

And Jezebel had to corrupt him to protect a vampire.

Jezebel didn't question her orders. She was only glad Auroora wasn't lurking around to spoil all her fun. The demon's black wings lazily flapped as she whispered corrupting thoughts into Father Augustine's mind.

The priest was full of suppressed sin, unlike Damien. She loved it. His thoughts brimmed with the nubile women of his parish. He fantasized about their flesh while listening to their confessions, particularly their sexual ones. He burned to take their bodies and show them true, decadent sin.

She was in the Ether, only half-manifested. She had enough corporeal form so his subconscious could hear her words and his body could feel her touch as an excited tingle that kept his dick hard beneath his cassock.

Remember what that little slut Mary wore last Sunday, Jezebel whispered into the depths of his mind. She could see the image of the barely legal schoolgirl rise up in the priest's mind, wearing a skirt far too short for church. Mary was blonde, perky, and enticing. Imagine her bending over before you, her skirt slipping up, rising higher and higher. But where are her panties?

Sweat beaded the priest's forehead. He whispered a prayer to God as he fought his lusts.

She isn't wearing any panties, the naughty slut. Her naked, shaved pussy, the slit so tight and inviting, peaks at you from between her thighs. Jezebel's own pussy was on fire. She loved the wet heat. Mary is teasing you. She wants you to hike up your cassock and bury your cock in her tight, slutty cunt. She burns to be fuck her over the altar.

The image burned through the priest's mind. His dick itched. Thoughts of pulling over and masturbating on the side of the road flitted through his mind. Jezebel savored his dirty thoughts as she whispered about how tight young Mary felt wrapped about his cock.

Vows were meant to be broken, Jezebel whispered as the poor priest was in a frenzy of lust. Look at that hitchhiker ahead. Blonde. Young. A slut. Pick her up. She'll be more than thankful.

"Dear Lord, deliver me from this sin," the priest groaned as he stared at the girl holding her thumb out as she walked down the highway. Eighteen and ripe for the plucking.

Pull over and enjoy the slut. She wants it. Look at the way she's dressed.

Father Augustine slowed the van down as he approached the girl. She wore a tight jean skirt that hugged her bubbly ass. It was worn through in spots on her ass, showing off naked flesh. A thong encircled her waist, red and enticing, and her round breasts were shown off by a tight boob tube.

She is asking to be fucked. If not by you, then by a fat trucker. Jezebel nuzzled at his ear. Enjoy her. You're far from your parish. No one will know. You've earned this reward for all the good you've brought about.

The van's brakes squealed as he stopped. The girl opened the passenger door and peered in. She smiled when she saw the priest, the tension melting out of her shoulders and the corners of her eyes. "Hi, Father."

"Hello, child," Father Augustine said, still warring with his desires even as his dick ached to take her. "Where are you headed?"

"As far as you'll take me," the girl said. "I'm Hope."

"Of course you are," he groaned. "Hop in, child."

"Thanks." Hope climbed in, her tits jiggling in her boob tube.

Father Augustine pulled back onto the highway, his eyes fixed on the road. Jezebel smiled as she continued to whisper in his ear, driving the priest mad with lust for the girl. The priest's face flushed and his knuckles grew white on the steering wheel.

See that road ahead, whispered Jezebel. I bet it leads somewhere nice and secluded. Hope is a friendly girl. She'll understand that she needs to pay for her ride.

Jezebel reached out and laid her hands over Father Augustine. She gripped them and pulled on them, guiding his hands to turn the wheel. To the priest, he would think his lusts had taken over. He had no idea a demon was manipulating his body.

Hope looked at the priest and a resigned look crossed her face. Jezebel knew the girl's thoughts. This wouldn't be the first time she had traded sex for a ride. She had hoped that Father Augustine would have been different, and it amused Jezebel no end to see it die in her.

The girl would enjoy it. Her body was built for sex, and even now her nipples hardened. Hope, like many troubled, young woman, had daddy issues. And the priest was very fatherly.

"What are we doing, Father?" asked Hope as the priest stopped the van on the shoulder of a deserted stretch of road in the middle of nowhere, Colorado.

Jezebel reached out and placed her hand on Father Augustine's then moved it to Hope's bare thigh. The priest squeezed her flesh and swallowed. Hope trembled and lowered her eyes as the priest, with the demon's help, stroked up and down the girl's sleek thigh.

No one rides for free.

"No one rides for free," Father Augustine repeated, his voice hoarse with desire.

Jezebel reached out and seized Hope's hand, pulling it to the priest's cassock over his bulge. She pressed her lips to Hope's ears and whispered, I understand, Father.

"I ... understand, Father," Hope murmured, squeezing the priest's cock.

"And there is only one way for a slut like you to pay," growled the priest.

Jezebel smiled. Those words were all his. The demon leaned back, her intervention finished. She floated in the Ether and observed. The priest's hand slid beneath Hope jean skirt. Hope let out a soft moan as the priest's fingers rubbed at the wet folds of her pussy.

Jezebel shuddered as she rubbed at her hot pussy. "Corrupting mortals is so much fun."

Father Hyrum Augustine touched his first pussy in thirty years. Not since he was eighteen and parking with his girlfriend had he felt the hot, slick flesh. They had fucked for the last time that night. She broke up with him the next day, dumping him for a boy with a nicer car, and he made the decision to go to the seminary.

However, Louise May Parker did not have a shaved pussy.

Hope felt so innocent beneath his fingers as he caressed her bare vulva, belying her slutty appearance. The blonde's eyes fluttered as his fingers stroked through her wet folds. The car seat creaked and her hand tightened on his cock. Father Augustine grinned.

I am tired of not sinning. I could have had this for the last thirty years.

"Oh, Father," groaned Hope as he pushed a finger into the depths of her pussy. "Mmm, you shouldn't be doing that. You're a priest."

"And you're a filthy slut," he growled, shoving a second finger inside of her cunt. Her flesh was hot about him, clenching down on his digits.

Hope only moaned and squeezed his cock.

She is so much like Mary. A slut that teases men. If she hadn't been walking down the road, I would never be sinning. This is all her fault. That's all those whores at my parish do—tease men into sin.

"Pull it out," he growled. "Suck my cock like the fucking slut you are."

"Yes, Father," moaned Hope.

Father Augustine groaned as Hope lifted up his cassock. His cock throbbed in his boxers. Her hand rubbed at them as she leaned over, trapping his hand between her thighs. The priest leaned back in his seat, trembling in anticipation of the girl's mouth on his cock.

"That's it, slut," he growled as her fingers pulled down the waistband of his boxers. His dick popped out, waving before her lips.

"Such a bad priest," Hope purred. "You should be a shamed of yourself, making a sweet, innocent girl suck your cock."

"You are no innocent," Father Augustine growled, shoving his fingers deeper inside her cunt. "You are a wanton whore tempting me into sin. Now suck it!"

"Yes, Father."

Hope's swallowed his dick, her pussy clenching down on his fingers. The priest groaned as her ripe mouth sucked on his cock. Her lips sealed tightly shut as she worked her mouth up and down his shaft.

His balls throbbed. "Sinful whore."

His left hand ran through her blonde curls as his right hand worked fingers in and out of her juicy twat. She moaned around his dick, vibrating the tip. His balls throbbed. His excitement swelled in him. The older man growled as his hands tightened in her golden hair.

"Suck it," Father Augustine growled, forcing her head lower and lower on his cock.

His fingers worked faster and faster into her depths. She squirmed on the seat, humping against his hand and rubbing her hard clit on the heel of his palm. Her mouth sucked harder as her pleasure swelled through her.

"You all are sluts," he growled. "Terrible, wicked sluts tempting men with your whorish bodies."

Father Augustine shuddered as her lips sealed about the tip of his cock as they slid up and down his shaft. Her tongue twirled around the sensitive crown before her mouth slid back down his shaft. His balls tightened.

"You're a sinful Jezebel," he snarled. "A Temptress. A Whore."

His hand forced her head down his cock. She struggled as his dick brushed the back of her throat. He had watched many whores in porn deep-throat. It was time for Hope to do the same. The little slut's deep-throated before. The way she sucks my cock proves it. She's a whore.

Father Augustine's cock forced down her throat. Her pussy convulsed about his fingers. Her throat hummed around his dick. Father Augustine's hips bucked up, thrusting his cock all the way down her throat.

His balls tightened.

The priest came down her throat. "Praise the Lord!"

Abigail D'Angelo dragged her husband Damien across their bedroom floor. His corpse was pale, almost all the blood drained out of him. His intoxicating, coppery blood still stained her lips and lingered in her mouth. She let go of his corpse as she walked to the closet to fetch the manacles and tools while his seed dripped down her thighs.

That was how a human was turned into a vampire. At the moment of their orgasm they had to be fed upon. Abigail's body still burned with the ecstasy of her husband's cum flooding her pussy as his blood flooded her mouth.

The vampiress wanted to cuddle with his corpse and hold him while he changed. She wanted to be in his arms and welcome him into his new life. All night, as she texted with him, she ached for that moment.

But her Sire had other plans for Damien.

"Sorry," she whispered to her dead husband. She had felt a momentary pang of guilt right before she killed him, but she couldn't stop her bloodlust or her drive to obey her Sire.

She hefted pulled over the nightstand and easily balanced on it. She swiped the stud finder across the wall and marked their positions. Then she grabbed the heavy, metal bracket with a eyelet welded to the front. It was rated to support five tons, more than strong enough to restrain her husband.

The power drill whined as she drilled the pilot holes. With her enhanced strength and reflexes, she had no problem drilling them perfectly. Then she grabbed the bracket and the bolts and, with a wrench, bolted the plate to the wall. She picked up the torque wrench and perfectly tightened them.

Damien would never escape.

She connected the manacles to the eylet than hauled her husband's corpse up, latching each manacle to his wrists. He would dangle there, helpless, facing the bedroom window. Exactly the way her Sire commanded.

Abigail locked the manacles with the key then hesitated.

I love him. A shiver ran through the vampiress.

Abigail set the silver key on the nightstand before dragging the piece of furniture back where it belonged. She replaced the lamp on it, adjusting the shade so it was neat again.

Finished, Abigail texted the vampire that raped and killed her.

Aurora pulled away from Abigail.

"Did it work?" she asked Gideon.

"Too soon to know," Gideon answered. "But you reached her. Did you see the way she shivered. And she left the key on the nightstand. But you need to do more before the intervention ends."

Aurora nodded and reached out to touch the vampiress's foul body. He deserves to know what happened. There is paper in the nightstand. Write it.

Abigail shuddered as the Angel embraced her. The vampiress looked around, her eyes narrowed. She hissed as her skin burned beneath the Holy touch of the angel. Abigail leaped away, landing on the bed in a crouch, her eyes scanning.

"Who is here?"

Aurora pulled away. "Her senses are too well trained," the Angel lamented. "She detected my touch."

"It may have been enough," Gideon said. "Her Sire will not arrive for twenty-three minutes. There is time for her to be a little rebellious. She has the spirit. Look at the way she stares at Damien. She has some of her emotions left despite her Sire's control on her thoughts. She laments the pain her husband is about to experience."

Aurora moved to Damien. "I am sorry." She touched the corpse. Already, the dark energy gathered inside of his body. It would extend to his every cell and rebuild him into an agent of darkness. "We failed to save you and your wife from this fate."

A tear fell from Aurora's eye and landed on Damien. It smoked, leaving behind a tiny teardrop branded into his neck.

Damien dreamed as his soul was transformed. Death had not released his spirit like it should have. His wife's cursed embraced kept him locked in his dead body. He was shackled into his flesh as the darkness consumed him. Flashes of Abigail burned through his mind.

She fought with a vampire in the cafeteria of his school. Her first shot with the crossbow missed as the handsome vampire, dressed in a black suit and red tie, leaped through the shadows, appearing behind her. Abigail spun and threw a vial of holy water, but the vampire caught it and slammed it to the floor, spilling the blessed water across the vinyl tiles.

Abigail was overpowered and stripped. The vampire took her hard as he feasted on her flesh. Caught up in the rapture of his mouth sucking at her throat, she came on his cock before the last beat of her heart carried her into undeath.

When she awoke, her Sire had instructions for her. She texted Damien, lulling him into false security as she returned to their home to prepare her trap. Damien's soul howled as the darkness bled into him.

And then the hunger arose.

In his dark dreams, Damien's mouth watered for blood. As his body was reborn into unlife, the coppery scent of his own blood, still staining the now cold water of the bathtub, tickled his nose. He yearned to feel the hot pulse of a human's artery beneath his lips right before he sank his fangs in and drank the glorious life.

The drive suffused his body. His heart beat again, pumping not only blood but also dark ichor through his veins. As the hunger swelled, his muscles were changed by the ichor. It suffused his body and mind, strengthening his body and enhancing his reflexes.

His eyes would be able to see in total darkness. His hearing would pick up the faintest sounds. It might take him a decade or more to fully grasp all the nuanced variety of his enhanced senses. His nose grew keener, smelling not just his blood, but the scent of his wife's excitement, the tang of the metal binding his wrists, the Chanel perfume lingering on his wife's body, the dust in the air, the wax of the burned out candles, the fibers of the carpet, and more. His hearing picked up the sounds of the neighborhood outside the house. Cars passed on the street. Dogs barked. Birds sang. A lawnmower whined. People walked, their footsteps slapping on concrete, asphalt and grass.

Hearts beat, pumping warm blood.

A woman talked, laughing gaily—Britney Lawson. Eighteen, nubile, and busty. The neighbors daughter spoke with her mother as they washed their dog in the backyard. He had found a skunk and now they slathered him in tomato sauce.

Damien's mind grew sharper. More than just his hunger filled his thoughts. Abigail dominated them. His Dam, the vampire who turned him. She weighed on his mind, her words echoing in his thoughts.

Obey...

Her voice was a whip cracking against his will.

Obey...

Images of their life flashed through Damien. The way she stood stunned over Vincent after Damien had bashed the vampire's head into pulp, their two friends lying dead around them in their High School's cafeteria. How her hair burned like fire across her wedding dress a year later while her face lay hidden behind the veil.

Obey...

Her words were lace binding his thoughts, channeling them towards her.

Obey me, Damien...

His heart beat faster. Arousal entered his body, hardening his cock. Abigail slipped out of her wedding gown, wearing garters, stockings, a white thong, and nothing else. That night had been like their first time all over again.

Only better. They knew what they were doing.

You must obey me, Damien...

Abigail appeared in her black combat fatigues, her red hair pulled back in a ponytail, a crossbow aimed before her as they stalked through a crypt hunting a vampire. Abigail, her face splattered with white as she swept the paint roller across their bedroom wall when they first moved into their house.

I will be obeyed, Damien ... I am your Dam. I brought you back into this world...

Abigail lay in the bath tub, naked, her breasts peaking over the hot, steaming water. Lust burned in her green eyes. Her foot broke the surface, pink from the water's heat. Her toes wiggled, inviting him into the trap.

Obey me, Damien.

Her voice cracked through his mind. The ichor had sunk into every cell of his body. The transformation was complete. Her commands wrapped about his mind. There was no escaping them. She was his Dam.

I ... obey ... you...

Damien's eyes opened and he saw for the first time.

Britney Lawson's mother returned from the house, the white apron she wore stained with tomato sauce. Bruiser had been a bad dog again, and had tried to attack the skunk.

"Who was it?" Britney asked as she rubbed the tomato sauce into the golden Labrador's soft fur. The dog panted, his tongue out, not caring that he was being covered in sauce.

The tomatoes smelled far better than the skunk he had played with.

"Abigail's family," Mrs. Lawson answered. She knelt down. "They don't know what happened to her. She went out before sunset last night and never came back to the hospital or her mother's house."

"Oh, she's back home," Britney smiled. "I saw Damien this morning when he got home from the airport. Said her mom was fine and she had come on home."

Mrs. Lawson frowned. "That's not the impression I got. They were worried. She didn't tell them she was coming back."

"Damien was pretty sure she was home." Britney glanced up at the D'Angelo's house. On the third floor, their bedroom curtains were pulled shut. "I think they're getting busy."

"Britney," laughed her mom. "You shouldn't say that."

"Their curtains are pulled tight, you know what that means," Britney smirked at her mom.

Britney's cheeks were flushed. She had had a crush on Damien since she was fifteen. He was strong, handsome, and bold. He was a man, not like the boys at her High School. Britney was glad to be done with High School.

I'm an adult. I can find me a real man know. She sighed. Shame Damien is taken.

The young woman had thought about seducing Damien in the past, but she knew how much he loved his wife. Plus, Britney liked Abigail and it felt wrong to try and seduce her husband away. Even if Damien would make my first time magical.

A chill wind suddenly gusted from the D'Angelo's house. Bruiser let out a low growl, and Britney gasped at the shock. Her mother frowned. "Strange. It's such a warm day. Where did that come from?"

"I don't know," Britney frowned as she went to fetch the hose. She glanced at the house and furrowed her eyebrows. What was going on in their bedroom?

"I'll finish with Bruiser," Mrs. Lawson said. "Why don't you go pump. I bet you're getting full."

Britney nodded. A year ago, her mother had a baby but had issues nursing. So to help her mother out, Britney went through the steps to induce lactation in her own large tits. Now that her sibling was weaning off breast milk, she was discovering a side business of selling her milk to a wealthy woman who couldn't be bother breastfeeding her child but didn't trust formula.