Wow! Over 100 reviews for 8 chapters. I am astounded at the response.
Thankyou all . I am glad you are all enjoying it so far.
Warning : This is a dark chapter. I would not say graphic. Just dark.
Do not follow any particular vampire lore or universe. It is completely my own.
Disclaimer: Don't own the names of glee characters.
Dedicated to BetTheDuckIsInTheHat
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VAMP VERSE
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Italy. So Lucinda claims. Late 1680's.
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He had commanded Santana to not cause any harm and follow the thralls to the upper levels in order to make herself presentable. She had conceded, as was now commonplace for her to do so.
Upon entering the room that mirrored that of a bathhouse, the thralls had stripped her of her clothes, shuffling to one side in the manner she had grown accustomed.
She felt as if in a daze, everything seemed so far away, her hands and her actions not of her own.
She bathed herself in the warm waters and oils that smelt of roses, taking care to rinse it all from her hair. She towelled herself dry and craved to lash out as two thralls began helping her into a white, front laced, undergarment bodice, that complimented her tanned complexion. It did not lace all the way and no matter how hard she tried she could not cover the herself, the tops of her pushed together, ample cleavage were on display for all to see. The deep red skirt pinched in at her waist and flowed over her hips, sensually accentuating her figure. The thralls busied themselves setting her raven locks into soft curls that fell over her shoulders. They affixed a bright red flower in her hair and a black choker round her neck, set with a ruby red stone. The silver manacles remained.
She followed the two thralls through a myriad of passageways out into a small, open roofed courtyard. In the middle, a fountain lazily spilled over into a round, shallow pool. It would almost be beautiful it wasn't surrounded by closed doors, behind from which came the lustful moans and groans of carnal acts, sometimes broken by the sound of leather upon skin closely followed by yelps or cries for mercy.
In some of the doorways, hovered naked, young men and women, some barely older than late teens, their eyes not quite glossed over.
Fresh thralls she assumed, as they did not drool and their movements were almost entirely human.
It would seem Sebastian was running a pleasure house of some sorts and Santana now knew why there was such an abundance of food.
These youthful, pretty, and in some cases down right beautiful, creatures were used within an inch of their lives, when their use had been fulfilled and they could physically give no more, they were discarded to be feasted upon by those in the Pits.
Santana would have gladly scarfed down a huge Sunday roast, the rind and even the burnt bits, just so she could throw it back up and gag at the depravity of it all.
She now had her suspicions what Sebastian meant by money and leverage.
She was led into yet another courtyard. This one was large, wide and spacious. The sights it contained were the likes of which the newborn had never seen.
It was as if she had stumbled upon some great celebration.
Jugglers in bright outfits tossed clubs into the air, achieving great heights before twirling around and making them disappear. Others breathed like dragons, spitting huge, hot plumes of flames around them, the woosh of the flames being drowned out by the gasps and applause of the men and women, decked out in ostentatious outfits and petticoats, that watched in fascination and glee. Girls in outfits similar to her own weaved their way amongst lounge chairs, decanting wine and offering fruits to their occupants. The sounds of bards plucking upon their instruments mingled in with the cries of triumph and the groans of frustration from gamblers. The torches that dotted the walls flickered, casting shadows, lending a dream like quality to it all.
She heard Sebastian's slimy voice call over the din,
"Ah, Santana, my dear, you have arrived!"
He approached her, flanked by two towering, broad and beefy men whose bulging muscles glistened in the dancing light, the smell of wet dog lingering around them.
More Versipellis, She thought.
Sebastian linked his arm through her own, patting her hand with an affection reserved for lovers. At his touch, she wished to flay her own skin, tear it from her very bones and fling it into the gutter to rot.
"Shall we do the rounds," He asked brightly, "As you can see, the party is in full swing."
Looking up at the sky through the open roof she could make out the faint twinkle of far off stars and wished nothing more than to be were they where.
To think that at one time in her life she had adored evenings like these, when the breezeless night was still warm and the stars overhead shined brightly, where she sat on the hill with Hudson, picking out the patterns and swapping silly stories of their creation.
If only she had known the horrors, the darkness truly held.
Her sire noticed her gaze,
"I know what you are thinking and it would be futile to try. Every entrance is laden with protection. Once you are in, only I can let you out."
He continued to lead her amongst the merrymakers. She cringed when she noticed that some of her own brethren were attending to these mortals, they waved seductively or fawned when Sebastian passed.
Did they not hate him as she did?
Did they not wish to see him perish?
A sprite like youth danced and cavorted before them, wiggling his bare buttocks suggestively before dashing away to lavish his attention upon an old greying man who pawed hungrily at his smooth flesh as the youth straddled his hips and ground down.
Santana gasped in shock. Sebastian laughed at her expression,
"Santana my dear, not all men of the cloth are men of God. That one, as you can see, has a particular liking for young boys."
A woman who looked to Santana to be in her Forty's, with bad teeth and an askew wig tittered in delight as a young man nibbled on her neck, his hands up her skirts.
The youngling spun round, she was surrounded by out right debauchery.
Her Master continued, airily,
"Rich merchants and Princes from all over the world come here, by invitation only of course, exclusivity being the nature. It is the place to visit in this city if you are affluent and looking for a good time."
"And which city are we in exactly?" Santana asked, slyly, hoping against hope he would some how slip up.
Sebastian snickered, patting her hand in a playful manner,
"Santana, why would you wish to know? Our location changes nothing of your situation. Your lover shall find you, if she hasn't forsaken you." He paused, as if scanning the crowd, "She does seem to be rather taking her time don't you think?" His face lit up, "Ah just the person I am looking for."
He set off and she reluctantly followed, wishing to drag her feet.
She could feel men and women's raking their eyes over her in desire making her uncomfortable.
She attempted to pull up her bodice over her breasts, Sebastian slapped her hand away, scowling and squeezing her hand till it turned white as they approached an over weight slob, his belly protruding from beneath his white shirt. His breeches were round his ankles and a russet red head bobbed up and down in his lap, his meaty hands tangled in her hair. His fat, round face was obscured by a black and white mask, fashioned into that of a jester.
He let out a grunt as the russet haired girl continued to slurp and suck. Santana caught a flicker of eyes as he became aware of their presence. He roughly pulled the girl from his lap to reveal his small, glazed, cock standing to attention. The girl got to her feet wiping the strings of saliva from her mouth with the back of her hand, throwing the newborn a sly wink.
Santana felt her stomach turn.
"Signore Medici, I see you are enjoying yourself!"
The heavy man attempted to roll himself into a better position, unsteadily reaching for a jug of wine, the russet haired girl stooped to help him, he snatched it from her grasp, quaffing the contents.
"Who is this?" Medici gestured to Santana with the jug, "She is a creature of beauty."
Sebastian stroked her cheek, lovingly.
"She is my most prized possession. She understands the language of any man."
The hairy, pig man's eyes continued to rove over her hungrily as the smell and evidence of his arousal assaulted her. She attempted to step behind Sebastian, who took her bicep in a vice like grip, forcing her to stay put.
"I can see that you hold her close. What for an evening?" Medici bartered.
Sebastian chuckled,
"An evening with her might very well cost you your soul, but as with all things business. Everything is negotiable."
Revulsion and panic spread through her at his words.
Did he mean to give her away to this man like a thrall to be feasted upon?
If he so commanded she would be in no position to refuse. She forced herself to control her trembles, clenching her fists until her nails bit into the palms of her hands. She would not allow Sebastian to see her fear, if he sensed it, he would surely use it against her.
"Would not Lylah be more to your choosing?" Sebastian motioned to the russet haired girl, "I hear she enjoys that thing you find most pleasurable."
Medici continued to eye the youngling, palming his erection, making sure to linger over the ugly, red swollen head. Santana grimaced and squirmed at the sight.
"I'd prefer to do it to the likes of her. A gypsy bitch would be perfect."
Santana could see rivulets of sweat, cutting clear paths though the dirt as it trickled down into the matted hair of his chest, poking out from the slit in his shirt.
She could no longer hold back the shudder as her mind raced with the thoughts of what he could be suggesting.
"What of the seat my nephew craves?" He asked.
Sebastian swept out his arm,
"Do you not see the Cardinal right there? I came to tell you that it shall not be long."
"See to it that it isn't. His Mother grows impatient." Medici growled.
"All in good time! Lylah see that he enjoys himself."
The russet haired girl nearly bounced with excitement, wiggling her fingers over Sebastian's chest and clacking her fangs before taking up her previous position on her knees and devouring his cock, bobbing her head at a blistering pace. Medici let out a hiss of pleasure.
Sebastian tore Santana away, twisting his grip on her arm causing the skin to break. She let out a whimper as he crooned in her ear,
"If you ever misbehave I shall allow him to fuck you three ways from Sunday. I might even command you to enjoy it." He paused as if in deep thought, "Maybe that's what I need to do in order to draw her to you."
Santana quailed beside him.
He continued to drag her across the courtyard, the lumbering Versipellis close at their heels. Rapping on a solid, heavy door, in a series of knocks, he hopped impatiently until a tiny panel slide back to reveal a pair of orange eyes peering out of the gloom. The sounds of hefty bolts sliding back and a key grating in the lock could be heard.
The door creaked open, leading in to an almost entirely dark passageway. Hulking masses stood either side; they slipped past them and picked their way across the paving stones. The passage wound down continuously, taking twists and turns until Santana became disorientated. The lumbering footfalls of Sebastian's 'guard dogs' followed.
The passage way opened out into a grand hall. Even in Santana's weakened state, she could sense the presence of a gathering of her brethren. He led her to a dais, upon which stood a grand, plush chair, almost akin to a throne. He commanded her to take the seat in his left, Ryder grinned at her wolfishly, from his right.
The Wolves stood like sentinels either side and two more stood on the floor in front of them.
Santana took a moment to observe a round her.
A veranda ran round the whole of the room. She could make out the figures of her brothers and sister lounging over the banister, the dim light reflected off their fangs and shining eyes. Others sat at the long tables that lined the walls of the room, laughing and cajoling each other. The wet, dull thud of a body falling from the veranda, hitting the stone floor caused her to jump and the guffaws from the ranter's echoed round the room. There was a clear space in the middle were vampires drank from unresisting thralls or filled their goblets from decanters, rebel rousing and hooting at one another.
They danced and cavorted, leaving lingering touches and playfully blowing kisses.
Sebastian sat back and watched with mirth.
Ryder pulled over a homely looking, fresh, thrall gouging his thumbnail into her neck, allowing the thick liquid to spurt into three goblets. He held her until she, twitching, drained completely. Santana saw the woman's eyes roll back in her head before Ryder, unceremoniously dropped her from the dais onto the floor below. He handed a goblet to Sebastian and one to her,
"My lady." He bowed and smirked at her, maliciously. "I do hope you shall enjoy the show."
Santana took a sip of the warm, sanguine fluid.
It had surprised her when she found out that when she was not starved for days and set upon a blood frenzy, she could actually keep herself in check and feed quite calmly. It gave her a small sense of hope that she had not turned into a complete monster.
Sebastian stood up from his seat, raising his hands. The room fell into a hushed silence and all eyes trained upon him.
"My fellow brethren," He began, "Many of you here, like me, do not belong to a House. And I ask you, why should they have all the power? Why should they be allowed to lay down rules that benefit only themselves and expect the rest of us yield?"
There came a rumble of agreement.
"Many of you believe that the Houses are out dated and stifling. That they are too soft on the mortals. "He took a long draft from his goblet. "And I for one agree!"
He glided down from the dais and began to pace as he continued, raising his voice,
"We have all heard the tales, of the one who created his own. The House of Vlad. He became great and powerful, with huge armies at his command and he ruled over a glorious kingdom for centuries. Kings and Men of influence came from far and wide to grovel at his feet, begging to be spared. He was fair, all he asked in return was to be paid fealty with blood. Eventually they rose up against him. Some believe him to have passed into legend; others say he shall rise again."
Santana listened as the room broke into hoots and hollers in acknowledgement of the one they called Vlad. She had no idea as to who he was, but he sounded terrifying.
She made a note to herself to ask Lucinda, as she was such a history nut.
Sebastian broke into gales of laughter, unable to contain himself. Taking another draft from his goblet, he calmed himself,
"However!" He held up his hand, raising his voice over the din, "I intend to do it a little differently. I intend to show these mortals that we ought to be feared. That we are their true masters and we allow them to live! He opened both arms outstretched and roared, "Who's with me?"
The hall disintegrated in to pandemonium as the other vampires around her banged anything they could lay their hands on, against any surface they could find. The screams and shouts rose into a deafening crescendo.
Santana gripped her goblet until her knuckles turned white. The very thought of Sebastian in any position of power in any capacity of a world stage shook her to her core.
It could not be allowed to happen. The world would be doomed.
Once more, he addressed his audience,
"I have a treat for you!" He gestured to a corner of the room. "Bring out the traitor!"
Two vampires dragged between them a sandy haired man, his shirt hung loosely from his chest, his breeches were tattered and his feet were black with dirt. He wrung his hands, nervously and his blue eyes were blown with fear.
He was brought to the centre of the cleared space. The vampires took a step back, waiting expectantly. Santana watched as others approached, slipping from the shadows to create a semi circle around his.
It struck Santana how frail he was in their midst.
Sebastian gracefully made his way over to the petrified man. He began circling him,
"You spoke of us to those you shouldn't have."
"No I didn't! I swear I didn't!" The man adamantly denied.
"I have spies everywhere." Sebastian told him. "Are you calling me a liar?"
"No! No!" The sandy haired man ferverantly shook his head.
Sebastian continued to circle, his tone full of mocking delight,
"Either you are lying or you are calling me a liar? Which is it?"
The man's face became haunted, caught in the trap of his own words, his eyes darted round the room looking for escape.
Santana could only watch in pity, knowing he would find none.
"What shall I do with you?" He turned to his audience, like a showman, yelling up into the eves. "What shall we do with the traitor?"
Excited catcalls of Death and Enthrallment came back in answer. Sebastian turned to the terrified man,
"It would seem that Death is your sentence." He turned to the vampires in the semi-circle, "Prepare him!"
They caroused around the man, tearing at what little clothing he had left, pushing and shoving him back and force, their faces twisted masks of cruelty. They swiped at his face with their nails, raking his skin whilst he sobbed and whimpered.
Sebastian turned to his audience once more,
"And the nature of his death?"
Over the cackles and shrieks of laughter, Santana could hear a murmur of Wolves.
Sebastian cupped his hand round his ear in the manner of a bard and playfully called,
"I can't hear yooou! What say you?"
"Wolves, Wolves, Wolves!" came the chant, accompanied by the banging of goblets and the stamping of feet.
"No! No!" The man begged, reaching out to tug on Sebastian's sleeve, letting go of his modesty, "Please!"
Her Master stood back, his lips drawn into a devilish smirk, his fangs glinting wickedly,
"The Masses have spoken, who am I to deny them their entertainment after I promised?"
The man gibbered,
Please no! I'll do anything, I'll give you anything!"
Her Master, poked him in the head, hissing,
"You have nothing I want!"
Sebastian made his way over to the dais, hopping up lightly and flopping back in his chair. He motioned with his goblet and a thrall appeared filling it to the brim.
He half turned to Santana,
"I'm sure that self righteous bitch Lucinda has made you aware that we are not the only creatures that frequent the nether world?"
Santana nodded, eyes glued to the lonesome figure in the centre of the room. He grinned at her,
"Well at least she's good for something."
Raising his hand, he clicked his fingers. The hulking masses surrounding the dais transformed before her very eyes. She had to squeeze and twist them in order to taken the multitudes of shapes and body parts, forming and reforming as human legs became hocks, snouts and jaws replaced noses and lips and hands and feet became giant paws.
Four, gigantic slobbering hounds circled the man. Urine trickled down the back of his legs as he bubbled and squeaked for mercy.
All four fell upon him, ravaging muscle and flesh as he screamed and howled.
Santana averted her gaze in disgust, unable to with stand it. Her eyes brimmed with emotion at the savagery. She heard the crack of bone and the snarls of the wolves as they tore him limb from limb.
Sebastian lightly took her jaw to look into her eyes. He leant forward to press a kiss to her cheek.
"My dear, Welcome to the House of Bastian!"
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Ps.. and there we have some of the Houses and discord.
