Chapter 4

As Nina, Marcella, Dahlia, Lizzie, Ray, and I all rejoined the party, we noticed that several folks were gone for the night. Even so, there were still roughly half a dozen people left at my place, most of them either buzzed, drunk, high, or some combination of these. These included the two co-eds, the remaining boyfriend, two grad students, one male and another female, and what turned out to be a campus cop ... a lady one.

“Officer Sophie Lane, sir,” the lady cop slurred, “I don’t wish to get tossed in the drunk tank or arrested for a DUI, for obvious reasons.”

“Yeah, well, we won’t let that happen. We can’t have a scandal or any kind of retaliation from crooks, drunks, and thugs. Uncle Ray’s rules still apply. You don’t have to go home and you CAN stay here. Sleep over. Spend the night. Sleep it off,” I encouraged her.

“And that’s coming from the REAL man of the house, babe,” Ray added, making Sophie’s eyes bug out and her jaw drop.

“He’s ... really in charge ... who ... um ... what is he? Is he why you wear a collar?” the officer asked Ray now.

“He’s the Master, dear,” Lizzie informed her.

“What does that mean?” one of the co-eds asked me.

“It means that we are his. We belong to him. To the Master. We’re his ... property, his chattel,” Marcella explained.

“His ... slaves?” the other co-ed inquired.

“In a word, yes. But voluntarily,” Dahlia asserted.

“But ... why?” the beau asked with bemusement.

“Because I can offer them ... something else,” I now presented them with the available collars.

“Immortality,” Nina broke her silence by summarizing the truth.

“Excuse me?” the female grad student wondered.

“Yeah, seriously, like what the hell?” the male grad student exclaimed in utter astonishment.

“Well, I am not human, and neither are Marcella or Dahlia here. That might seem difficult to believe, but it is true. I didn’t intend to reveal this just yet, but I might as well now. Sooner or later, if you stuck around here enough, you’d probably learn this. I am Nosferatu. Undead. A creature of the night.”

“A bloodsucker. A vampire, is that right?” Officer Lane caught on very fast.

“Precisely, and so are Dahlia and Marcella. They are my immortal companions, whereas Nina, Lizzie, and Uncle Ray here ... are my mortal staff. Every vampire in this area lives under my rule. I am the lord of this land, this fief, and all of my kind ... and our servants ... are my vassals, you see. This is my burden, my power, and my responsibility. This is my domain. I am the only male in this section, the others being female. This is the way in all vampire territories. One male, many females,” I stipulated now, causing real shock now.

“Like a lion with his pride of lionesses,” the male grad student grasped that part.

“Exactly, as it were. This is just how things are with us. It’s a very Old World kind of tradition,” I replied now rather clinically, knowing how touchy about gender issues students could be.

“What are the odds of ... being turned?” the beau now asked.

“Honestly, for a male ... slim. Male vampires are lords of the manor. Total alphas. They don’t relish any kind of competition. It’s a very patriarchal society or culture, one that makes a Roman like me nostalgic for the past and makes me scoff at the complaints about ‘patriarchy’ by ignorant feminist professors and gender studies’ undergrads. It’s exhausting, the silly dance that you have to perform to keep the idiots happy these days,” Marcella asserted.

“And females?” one of the co-eds asked.

“Depends upon the vampire and how well you please him, whatever else. By the way, since we exist, one can well argue that everything that you think that you know is sus. That’s the case, whether it’s the way that evolution turned out, not the fact of evolution itself, which is real, but the trajectory of it. Or ... obviously, the Bible or the Quran or whatever. You get easily duped if you are sheep, which is why the Christians want you to be one. Sheep get fleeced. They get milked. They get slaughtered. Religion is for suckers. At least the Gods of my youth were fun,” Marcella added.

“So, she’s subservient, but not silent,” Officer Lane noted.

“Hey, she’s my bitch, but she’s still a BITCH,” I winked at Marcella, who snorted in laughter.

“If you want proof, I can take it in the ass right in front of you,” Marcella licked her lips now.

“In front of me? That would be hot ... not gonna lie. Anal is sexy. I couldn’t get it from my recent ex, mostly because his ex turned him into a pussywhipped simp or whatever. He didn’t want to do doggy-style, either, or even get head. What a panty waste! Could I get it in the ass?” the lady cop pleaded for some buggery.