My dearest fans, I am so sorry for the lapsed time between chapters. Here
is chapter 3. It starts becoming very sensual, so read at your own
discretion. As always, I have no legal rights to D. But my fantasy rights
continue to flow. If Mata Yamaoto would like to contact me to write pre-
quals for his D series, just e-mail me. (
D howled again; no, it was more of a growl. Her blood was sweet. It brought out his primal needs. D cradled this woman in his hands and kissed her soft lips. But a response was not forth coming. He realized that someone was yelling at him.
It was his left hand. "D! Look at her, she's wounded! Snap out of your delirium and help her, or let her go."
D was forced back into reality. Her blood, her sweet, precious blood, was all over him. Who was this young woman? At this moment it didn't matter, she needed help. He lifted her into his strong arms and carried her into his lair. He resealed his door to keep the world out. He laid her down gently on his bed. He kissed her wounds, licking them gingerly with his tongue; because he knew that his healing saliva would begin the healing process better than anything else could. He bound her wounds well and lay down next to her. Her blood was in him now, and it connected them. He could feel her emotions; he could enter her mind and see her memories.
She was 20 years old. Jenna, she was called Jenna. Her father had physically, verbally, and emotionally abused her for most of her life. Ahh, it was after her mother died that these things escalated. He kissed her forehead, and pushed back a lock of hair from off of her face. He kissed her again. He stared down at her pale skin, her full beautiful lips. His feelings were warm and caring within himself. These were unfamiliar feelings. He wanted her, he wanted to taste her again, her blood, her life force. . . his life force.
His breathing was heavy, his longing almost painful. He groaned. He could not allow this. He could not let these feelings overtake him. He forced himself off of the bed. He suggested to her mind that she sleep, and that her body should heal. He put his hand over her wound, his saliva was doing its work, she was beginning to heal. He hastily left his lair. It was deep night now. He needed transportation. Left Hand had been particularly quiet these past few hours. He calmly reminded D to "lock up".
D turned around and put the necessary safety checks on the door. He was not himself. Centuries had come and gone, and now, in the year 2065, he is struck with what must be love. What else could it be? D was being hasty, he needed transportation, and he needed it fast. His favorite form of transportation lately was his Harley Davison motorcycle. He preferred horses of yesteryear though. He secretly hoped that they would one day come back around in style, as most things did. D rode on into the night.
He rode on & on. He covered 7-8 different vampire's territories. There had not been a call for vampire hunting in a great while. Though D knew that activity was rampant. He and other dunpeals had conferred lately and agreed that the activity would soon be noticed by many humans. There were just so many humans today, so many who did not care for their fellow beings. He sadly feared for the human race. More and more people treated each other in the same manner that Jenna's father had treated her. "Jenna", her name rolled across his lips like velvet. Jenna.
"Jenna, you fucking bitch. I send you out for heroin and you come back with coke. You are the stupidest fucking woman on the earth. I don't know why I let you stay here with me. You idiot. Get out there and find me what I wanted." Jenna's father literally grabbed her and threw her across the room toward the door. "And don't even think of leaving, you know I'll kill you." Jenna jerked awake from her dream. She was completely disoriented.
"Where am I," she thought. Then she remembered her attempted hara-kiri. She felt the bandages on her. NO! This could not be. Did her father find her? Or one of his goons? She quickly ripped off the bandages that had so loving been placed upon her. She flung herself about the bed and room, which was dimly lit. She found what seemed to be a very long sword. She impaled herself upon it. "You'll never hurt me again you bastard," she said as she wasted away.
D knew the minute Jenna awoke. Her felt her fear; he knew what she was doing. He turned the bike around and headed back to his lair faster than he had ever tried to go on a mechanical device before. He had to save her; he just had to reach her before she lost any more blood. D took one flying leap to his door. His hand was outstretched, mentally undoing the safeguards on his door. He rushed to Jenna's side. He quickly assessed her new & old wounds. She had run a rapier through herself. But it was a clean wound. Her old wound was re-injured. He knew that her desire to die was strong.
He spoke her name, "Jenna."
She fluttered her eye lids. "Who are you?"
"You're safe Jenna, you're safe."
"Please, I can't go back, please, let me move on."
D was torn. He held Jenna's hand. He kissed her palm. She spoke in whispers, "Are you my angel? My angel of death?" D's eyes were sad. She called him an angel. But an angel of death. That statement stabbed at his heart. "I'll stay with you, my angel," her words were barely audible. But D heard them, and that's all he needed. He removed the rapier. He gently turned her on her side. He licked her wound on her back. His lips touched gently, sensuously; his tongue ran along her wound. Of course, he took in more of her intoxicating blood. It made him tingle inside. He laid her gently on her back. Her chest was bare. He once again closed the wound made by the rapier. Even more blood flowed into and onto his tongue. He let escape a small moan. "Oh my angel, what are you doing to me?" Jenna whispered.
"D. . . my name is D." He pressed his face to her chest. His hand cupped one breast gingerly as he put his mouth to her jagged wound. His breathing increased, as did Jenna's. He tasted her yet again; he covered her wound with his mouth, his hot breath bringing her to impassioned heights. He carefully took in the running blood, he began to shake. Sweat broke out on his brow; his body was beginning to explode. He took in her blood, careful not to induce more bleeding. He closed her wound with his healing tongue as best he could. Jenna shuddered.
"Are you cold?" D asked, concerned for her.
"Oh no," she said weakly, "I'm so hot; I'm going to melt." Then she fainted away. D looked on her with lust & greed. She could be his forever.
D howled again; no, it was more of a growl. Her blood was sweet. It brought out his primal needs. D cradled this woman in his hands and kissed her soft lips. But a response was not forth coming. He realized that someone was yelling at him.
It was his left hand. "D! Look at her, she's wounded! Snap out of your delirium and help her, or let her go."
D was forced back into reality. Her blood, her sweet, precious blood, was all over him. Who was this young woman? At this moment it didn't matter, she needed help. He lifted her into his strong arms and carried her into his lair. He resealed his door to keep the world out. He laid her down gently on his bed. He kissed her wounds, licking them gingerly with his tongue; because he knew that his healing saliva would begin the healing process better than anything else could. He bound her wounds well and lay down next to her. Her blood was in him now, and it connected them. He could feel her emotions; he could enter her mind and see her memories.
She was 20 years old. Jenna, she was called Jenna. Her father had physically, verbally, and emotionally abused her for most of her life. Ahh, it was after her mother died that these things escalated. He kissed her forehead, and pushed back a lock of hair from off of her face. He kissed her again. He stared down at her pale skin, her full beautiful lips. His feelings were warm and caring within himself. These were unfamiliar feelings. He wanted her, he wanted to taste her again, her blood, her life force. . . his life force.
His breathing was heavy, his longing almost painful. He groaned. He could not allow this. He could not let these feelings overtake him. He forced himself off of the bed. He suggested to her mind that she sleep, and that her body should heal. He put his hand over her wound, his saliva was doing its work, she was beginning to heal. He hastily left his lair. It was deep night now. He needed transportation. Left Hand had been particularly quiet these past few hours. He calmly reminded D to "lock up".
D turned around and put the necessary safety checks on the door. He was not himself. Centuries had come and gone, and now, in the year 2065, he is struck with what must be love. What else could it be? D was being hasty, he needed transportation, and he needed it fast. His favorite form of transportation lately was his Harley Davison motorcycle. He preferred horses of yesteryear though. He secretly hoped that they would one day come back around in style, as most things did. D rode on into the night.
He rode on & on. He covered 7-8 different vampire's territories. There had not been a call for vampire hunting in a great while. Though D knew that activity was rampant. He and other dunpeals had conferred lately and agreed that the activity would soon be noticed by many humans. There were just so many humans today, so many who did not care for their fellow beings. He sadly feared for the human race. More and more people treated each other in the same manner that Jenna's father had treated her. "Jenna", her name rolled across his lips like velvet. Jenna.
"Jenna, you fucking bitch. I send you out for heroin and you come back with coke. You are the stupidest fucking woman on the earth. I don't know why I let you stay here with me. You idiot. Get out there and find me what I wanted." Jenna's father literally grabbed her and threw her across the room toward the door. "And don't even think of leaving, you know I'll kill you." Jenna jerked awake from her dream. She was completely disoriented.
"Where am I," she thought. Then she remembered her attempted hara-kiri. She felt the bandages on her. NO! This could not be. Did her father find her? Or one of his goons? She quickly ripped off the bandages that had so loving been placed upon her. She flung herself about the bed and room, which was dimly lit. She found what seemed to be a very long sword. She impaled herself upon it. "You'll never hurt me again you bastard," she said as she wasted away.
D knew the minute Jenna awoke. Her felt her fear; he knew what she was doing. He turned the bike around and headed back to his lair faster than he had ever tried to go on a mechanical device before. He had to save her; he just had to reach her before she lost any more blood. D took one flying leap to his door. His hand was outstretched, mentally undoing the safeguards on his door. He rushed to Jenna's side. He quickly assessed her new & old wounds. She had run a rapier through herself. But it was a clean wound. Her old wound was re-injured. He knew that her desire to die was strong.
He spoke her name, "Jenna."
She fluttered her eye lids. "Who are you?"
"You're safe Jenna, you're safe."
"Please, I can't go back, please, let me move on."
D was torn. He held Jenna's hand. He kissed her palm. She spoke in whispers, "Are you my angel? My angel of death?" D's eyes were sad. She called him an angel. But an angel of death. That statement stabbed at his heart. "I'll stay with you, my angel," her words were barely audible. But D heard them, and that's all he needed. He removed the rapier. He gently turned her on her side. He licked her wound on her back. His lips touched gently, sensuously; his tongue ran along her wound. Of course, he took in more of her intoxicating blood. It made him tingle inside. He laid her gently on her back. Her chest was bare. He once again closed the wound made by the rapier. Even more blood flowed into and onto his tongue. He let escape a small moan. "Oh my angel, what are you doing to me?" Jenna whispered.
"D. . . my name is D." He pressed his face to her chest. His hand cupped one breast gingerly as he put his mouth to her jagged wound. His breathing increased, as did Jenna's. He tasted her yet again; he covered her wound with his mouth, his hot breath bringing her to impassioned heights. He carefully took in the running blood, he began to shake. Sweat broke out on his brow; his body was beginning to explode. He took in her blood, careful not to induce more bleeding. He closed her wound with his healing tongue as best he could. Jenna shuddered.
"Are you cold?" D asked, concerned for her.
"Oh no," she said weakly, "I'm so hot; I'm going to melt." Then she fainted away. D looked on her with lust & greed. She could be his forever.
