This story is dedicated to my boyfriend who initially gave this idea and, who I must say, has a delicious imagination!
Disclaimer: I do not own nor do I profit from the use of any of the characters seen in this fiction. They are the work of their respective artists/writers and I am only borrowing them for my own twisted pleasure!
Setting: This story takes place during "Bloodlust" (AU) when D is in pursuit of the black carriage and the three Barbarois and finds himself entangled in a little more than he bargained for…
D watched his horse plummet to the depths below from his tenuous perch on the side of the sheer cliff face. 'Now what?' The question was shortly thereafter answered as the same black shroud that had blinded them to the cyborg's demise floated up from far below to meet D's eyes, its new formed face curved into a malicious grin.
Undaunted, D did the only thing that was in his nature to do; lunging forward with sword leading, he was swallowed by the black maw.
--------
"Unfair! Unfair!" Bengi hunched over his string spell, mocking the dhampiel's earlier entreaty, "You know what's unfair, hunter? Staying there until you rot!"
The carriage continued thundering on down the road for this was not the only hunter which was after it, no. There was far more fun to be had in the tank that followed!
--------
D hung suspended in mid air, a black nothingness surrounding him as effectively as the dense air itself. Movement was near impossible. What little movement he was able to do, D found to be not worth the effort. It was like cutting through stone; well, that was not quite correct. It was just significantly slower; the more he tried to speed up his motions, the harder it became. He watched his sword as it inched harmlessly in front of him, a continuation of the brutal slash he had attempted what seemed like ages earlier as he had launched himself from the cliff to attack.
"Well, what now genius?" the symbiot in his hand taunted, "you're the driver!" D ignored the comment as best he could, although the implications of 'what indeed' hung ominously in his head. It seemed his very thoughts were slowed and he could momentarily think of absolutely no solution. He had never encountered this kind of spell before, let alone one as powerful as to hold him indefinitely.
This wasn't exactly what he had planned, however he did realize one positive thing about where he now found himself. At least he was out of the sun.
Suddenly, D found that he had new problems. His hat was snatched from his head by an unseen force and before he knew what had happened, it had disappeared entirely, sucked somewhere into the vortex of oblivion where he was now suspended. Then the walls started to shift and close in around him and instead of the relative stillness he had seen up until now, all was suddenly movement.
Hands formed themselves out of the velvety cloth which surrounded him and fastened firmly around his wrists. Another appeared and wrenched his sword from his paralyzed grasp. Now there was one unfastening his cloak from around his throat and another grabbing a fist full of his hair, forcing his head back almost painfully while disembodied laughter suddenly filled his ears. Next, D's ankles were grabbed and his boots pulled from his feet.
Beads of sweat started to form at the dhampiel's temples, his nervous struggles getting him nowhere. He gulped as a feeling of dread formed in his chest as his clothing continued to be unfastened and stripped from his helpless and unwilling body. "Help me!" he grated from between clenched teeth, not knowing what he expected his plea to materialize.
"What do you expect me to do about this? You're on your own here, D."
Hands unfastened the belt that held his sword's sheath strapped across his back, another set removed the belt at his waist. Yet more hands appeared to join the ranks of the many to take a firm grip on the bottom edges of his shirt and pull it over his head. This created a brief opening where the hands fastened around his wrist and entangled in his hair had to let go and he desperately fought to keep his clothing, and possessions, but to no avail. The laughter surrounding him grew ever louder in his sensitive ears even as the frustration and dread grew in his chest.
Finally, black leather pants were slid excruciatingly slowly over slim hips to reveal the dhampiel in all his naked glory. The laughing abruptly ceased but the hands weren't finished.
D was guided onto his back, then held there by four sets of hands, strategically placed at ankles, wrists, in his hair, and finally one long arm encircling his waist. This didn't look good. D's breath came in ragged gasps and his body, for all of its strength, had grown weary from his exertions while trapped in this void.
"What game are you playing?" he asked the voice that up until now had given him nothing but mocking laughter.
He panted, waiting for a response in words, but was only answered in actions.
A new hand wormed its way into D's now limited line of site and even as the hunter flinched away, came to rest on his cheek, gently stroking. It smoothed his eyelids closed and traveled lightly down the bridge of his nose then went back to where it had begun its exploration. Suddenly, it drew away then returned with an insulting backhand to D's cheek. The dhampiel's eyes flew open and his lips drew back in a snarl. He realized the action was meant to be a reminder of how helpless he really was.
Next, the hand sought the pulse point at his throat and drew its nails across the throbbing vein hard enough to draw blood. The wound closed quickly enough, but D was now very much on edge. He was all too aware of the kind of pain that could be inflicted by bare hands alone and he may very well have eternity where he was to experience it for himself. But that was not the intent behind this diabolical scheme. The purpose was much different and something that the dark hunter had very little experience in despite his long years; the amount of pleasure that mere hands could inflict.
The hand enclosing the dhampiel's hair relaxed its grip and allowed him to bring his neck to a more comfortable position. It then proceeded to massage his scalp in slow soothing circles, trying to lull him into a state of relaxation once more. It would take stronger efforts, however, for D to be coaxed into that state again. At his feet, a new set of hands materialized and began to rub his feet. He watched them with apprehension even as another unseen set of hands appeared beneath him and started running over the expanse of his broad shoulders and strong back. He was helpless to do anything but lie there and take it.
All the hands, it seemed, conspired to converge at one very specific part of his body and this pleased D very little. He began his struggles anew, all the muscles in his body going as taught as a bow string as the hands on his back slid ever lower and finally began to brush over the firm mounds of his buttocks. In front, the hands that had started up his feet had slowly made their way up his calves, around to his inner thighs and now crept ever closer to their goal.
"NO!" he protested with all his being, "I won't allow this!"
The voice responsible for the earlier laughter now decided to formulate a verbal reply, "You, my dear hunter, have absolutely no choice." He could sense the leering smile behind those words and fought against the shudder that racked him as the hands finally reached their goal between his legs.
They manipulated his member skillfully even as the hands on his buttocks decided to squeeze firmly. He bucked against them as best he could, but the arm around his waist held him steady, his arms still captured above his head. He could feel the blood start to rush to that vital area and though he warred against it, it was a losing battle. He could feel himself become steadily harder with each new stroke.
Below him, the busy hands continued on a quest of their own. Gripping his cheeks with strong fingers, they spread him wide while a third hand lent its index finger to circling his anus.
D realized the inevitability of what was happening and quietly resigned himself to his fate. At least he would not give the monstrous Barbarois the pleasure of watching him humiliate himself by screaming. D sagged in the arm and hands' capable grip and tried to relax his body. Inexperienced as he was, he decided that maybe he could learn something from what was happening. After all, some of the probing the hands were doing, especially behind him, were things that he may never have thought of doing to himself.
--------
Bengi looked into his little trap, enraptured. The beautiful creature before him squirmed mercilessly at first, but then accepted what was going on. The black-suited Barbarois watched the auburn beauty take first one, then two fingers into his body. Sweat beaded on the subjects face, but the sheen just added to the overall effect.
On the seat next to Bengi, Mashira (sp?) watched equally intently, a wide grin spread over his features. Never would he have thought he'd find this much pleasure watching someone else being taken. And was it his imagination, or was the hunter actually enjoying what was being done to him? The were-man continued to watch as a third velvety black finger was inserted into the dhampiel's pliant body and a slight grimace of pain twitched across his features. It lasted only a fraction of a second before a very specific node was found deep in D's body and he responded by throwing back his head with a gasp of surprise.
"Quite the site, this one is. For one who wanted things to be fair, he sure does enjoy the one-sidedness of this, wouldn't you say?" Mashira just nodded at Bengi and continued to watch, quite captivated by the show.
--------
D squirmed helplessly as wave after wave of pleasure assaulted him as his prostate was stroked relentlessly. The hand in front fisted him firmly and was now pumping a steady rhythm up and down the dhampiel's shaft. It was all D could do not to break his promise to himself and scream anyway. A plethora of hands swept up and down his body, tweaking his nipples, pinching is inner thighs, and touching him in every conceivable place in a flurry of sensation. He was brought to the edge and back multiple times but was never allowed his release. He would not beg for it, nor plead, but if it didn't come soon, he would surely go mad. It was already like he'd spent an eternity being pleasured and it was far beyond anything he'd ever known.
--------
"Should we bring him out now?" Bengi shot a conspiratorial wink at Mashira and used the power of the spell to begin bringing the hunter, by the same portal as his clothes, to his place inside the carriage…
--------
Just when he thought he couldn't take anymore his release was finally granted. Fangs unsheathed, D threw his head back violently and stayed frozen in a silent roar until all the pleasure had subsided from his body…as, he finally noticed, had all the hands.
Panting from the forced exertion, D did not notice when he ceased to float in nothingness and instead found himself sitting on something somewhat more solid. At least until a faint tinge of pain came; he'd been worked rather hard for his first time, after all.
His arms to heavy to move, he opened his eyes and peered through his sweat dampened locks to find himself in a small, dark room with a coffin at his feet. 'No not a room,' he realized, 'the carriage.'
A metal collar was now around his neck and it was attached to a chain leading to a peg in the wall. Great, so he was still a prisoner…and still naked. He searched his immediate surroundings for something to cover himself with but his search came up fruitless.
The door to the carriage was thrown open and the full light of the sun hit him with blinding force. A backlit figure thrust something in his direction and he tried to shield his eyes to better get his bearings. Grabbing the bundle from the figure, he soon realized that it was his pants.
"Wouldn't want to frighten the lady, now would we?" the voice of Mashira floated to him and he hastily donned his garment. The door was shut again with a flourish and an obvious stifled laugh and he was allowed to adapt once more to the darkness.
"How many are there?" he asked his hand since he thought that no one else was present. His hand was not the one that replied.
"If you are referring to the Barbarois, I believe only 2 remain with us, as for myself and Charlotte, that's another matter." The lid slowly lifted from the coffin on the floor and out of it rose Meier Link, the very same vampire he'd been after. Only now D was somewhat out of his element—weaponless, without clothing, and in the very heart of the lair of the enemy.
The vampire watched him tense perceptibly then decided to play with him a moment. "No one here plans to hurt you, dhampiel, but I do need to feed." With that, Meier rose from his coffin then came to sit beside D. The aristocratic white haired vampire took his time, leaning in close and picking up the sent of blood, sweat, and most of all sex on the dhampiel then compelled D to tilt his head with a persuasive gesture of his hand. He licked the long pale throat, relishing the taste of salt on D's skin while languishing in the feel of the pulsing blood beneath the thin layer of flesh. With one swift movement, he sank his fangs deep into the neck of his own would-be hunter.
At the same time a wave of nausea assaulted D and he cried out and clutched his hands to his throat. Meier laughed beside him, thinking it was his fault but soon found out that this was not the case.
"Too…much…sun…" came the nearly inaudible voice of the parasite embedded in the dhampiel's flesh. Meier withdrew his fangs from the pale throat as D threw himself to his knees, struggling to breathe and clutching his throat in his hands. "I told you to be careful, but would you listen to me?" The chain which held him to the peg was stretched to it's limit and contributed to the hunter's breathing problems. "Do you EVER listen to me!?" Pain lanced through his every nerve and he swore he'd never felt so sick in his life. He wished the parasite would do something useful to help out, but decided to help himself instead of waiting for the improbable.
"You need…to burry me," he croaked out as best he could. He was now sweating profusely and had begun to wretch and dry heave.
"Mashira!" Meier yelled, "Get in here!" The door was swiftly opened and shut once more and the were-man now knelt on the floor next to D.
"What's wrong?"
"The sun," D managed to groan before dry heaving again. Mashira looked around in confusion, not seeing any sun as the carriage had been specifically prepared to block out all the light for his client.
"No, there's no sun getting in here," Meier confirmed, "but he's already had too much of it." The were-man nodded in understanding and Meier continued, "We need to bury him or he will not recover."
With that said, the vampire crawled back into his coffin to resume his sleep. He had fed, although all too briefly, and was once again ready to rest. The dhampiel was no longer his concern.
--------
Though he didn't know why he bothered helping out the enemy, Mashira buried the dhampiel, first wrapping him in his cloak and putting the remainder of his clothing on his chest before crossing the hunter's arms over it. The hat was then placed on D's head and his sword rested next to him, leaning on the trunk of a very ancient tree whose body sheltered D and hid him from the world. "This is more than you deserve dhampiel." With that, Mashira turned deftly on his heel and returned to the carriage to see to his Master and his bride, Charlotte.
"Thank you," D whispered after him, but his voice died on the air. He then dropped into a deep, healing slumber, oblivious to the world and all going on around him.
Some time later, that was how Leila found him.
--The end.
Ok, tell me what you think of this…any good? I tried to keep everyone in character, but this story was supposed to be AU which explains the warp in the timeline and all subsequent events. Thanks for reading! Vampire hunter D is my new favorite obsession and I was tired of reading CRAP stories about the subject. That's why this exists. Later, Mannariel.