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Belle Morte X Mion One-Shot
Minute sounds of water dripping echoed off stone walls as Mion walked down the stone cobbled hallways. There was light that casted her shadow on the wall in twisted forms, flickering from their torch homes that were nailed to the wall. A torch decorated each archway of the hallways, tucked in the corners of chipped, cobblestone ridging that jutted out of the smooth walls, lines that separated each brick the only obstacle as Mion slid her petite hands over the cold stone. A smile was placed on her delicate, full, kissable lips as she walked on. Her goal; she was visiting her vampire master once more. She was, after all, this vampire's Human Servant.
Ma déesse verte, ce qui vous est si long? Drifted through Mion's mind and she knew it was her master. Thewordsrolled through her head, making her shiver as it felt like something soft, silk like and touchable, but there was also an edge of notable impatience. Mion frowned her lips into a small pout, fearing she has angered her master, and picked up her speed. Her hand no longer caressed the stone walls as her bare feet slapped against cold floors with her stride, her hair wavering in the wind of her fastened pace, the color undecipherable in the dim lighting. Mion rounded a corner, one lit torch flickering light for just the corner, and then Mion was in complete darkness. It was how her vampire master liked it. The blinding darkness was for prey or slowing intruders to the room.
Mion felt around, using her hands as her only guidance, her eyes closed to enhance her touch. Mion's fingers brushed over cold cobblestone, the tips easing along the cracks separating each brick as she slowly, cautiously stepped forward. The stone was colder here than the rest of the stone Mion had passed and played her hands on. It was slick with chilled wetness, raising goose bumps along her clothed arms, but exciting her. The chillier and slicker the brick, the closer Mion was to her master's room. Finally, after minutes sluggishly ticked by, which weighed on Mion's mind like hours, her hands caressed sanded wood. The wood her fingers ran over had intricate carvings on it from the feel of it. Her fingers slowly traced the pattern that, if Mion were tall enough, would etch slowly into a carving of a Greek Goddess of Spring, Persephone, even though her master was all about death.
Mion's hands soon found a deep curve in the wood, swooping in a thick, wide spiral that lead to cold metal set in a curved latch. Joy over came Mion as she grabbed the metal latch and placed her shoulder on the wooden door and shoved with any strength of her supernatural connection with her vampire master. It was a simple task for Mion, but time consuming for any mere human. As the door pushed open, a spray of dim light shined out, casting Mion's shadow on the wall feet behind her as the torch lights did in the hallways. She stepped into the room, her feet meeting velvety cushion with a smile on her face. Mion was here, but late, and never answered her master back.
A petite figure was sprawled over an orgy sized bed across the room. The figure was clearly female with her perfectly rounded breast in the air, the top of a fourteenth century styled dress fitted tightly over them. The dress was slightly ruffled as it covered most of the figure, the deep, crimson red color complimenting the female's raven black hair that tickled milky pale skin from centuries of sun deprivation. The women on the bed sat up with an up tilt to her lips. She was smiling at Mion with a hint of shadowy aggression. Her eyes from here were an opaque shade, but when stray slithers of light from the torch lit room caressed her eyes, they turned honey dew brown.
Her room was large, spacious and lined with torches, several, intricately carved, and well furnished armoires, slender, chestnut dressers and other expensive furniture. The woman's bed was the piece of the room that stood out more. It was decorated in blood red silks that matched her dress with different ranges of pillows and coverlets. Small, medium, large, all hand stuffed with the softest downy feathers of several species of avian. Though beautifully decorated and accustomed with long narrow chains for bondage intercourse, this was not what attracted Mion most.
The woman before her was her vampire master, the infamous Belle Morte, creator of her line. Standing upright, Mion's chartreuse eyes glided head to toe of Belle Morte. From the silkiness of raven black hair to the sharp, exotic curve of her face assessed with double laced eyes of milk chocolate, dainty nose, and full lips that hid what she was.
Mion moved lower, her eyes catching the curve of Belle Morte's neck that was still atop of slender shoulders leading into her chest. Belle Morte's chest was pushed up from the corset wove into her crimson colored dress. It showed off enough delicious milky goodness of her breast that it would dry or water any mouth. Mion had to suddenly lick her lips, all the while, Belle Morte was silent, and enjoying the lustful attention her human servant was adorning her body with. Once again, Mion moved her cat like eyes lower; those mouth watering breast curving slimly into a narrow stomach and hips that filled out the dress perfectly.
The dress caressed Belle Morte's flesh below her knees, showing off red straps that circled each leg in a tight bind. The straps lead from five inch heels that were leather, and unzipped from the front. The leather held snuggly to the sharp curve Belle Morte's feet prompting her to 5'3' of height, but still not enough to give Belle Morte the ability to stand over her Human servant at 5'5'. It was Belle Morte's turn to scope out her servant, her honey suckle eyes scanning slowly over Mion. They swept over the butt length; almost lime green colored hair that framed a beautiful, clear face of pale creaminess. Mion's eyes shone in the dim lighting as a pale pink caressed her high cheekbones as Belle Morte scanned her. A soft, purring laughter escaped Belle Morte's fully set lips, running along Mion's flesh like a wondering hand. Mion's cheeks darkened with blush as those pesky goose bumps rose along her skin once more.
A tight halter top clothed Mion's upper body, her bountiful chest straining against soft, cotton fabric then swooped under the curve of them, showing off her slender, creamy and toned stomach. Belle Morte smiled a Cheshire smile, a glint of teeth at the corner's of her mouth reflecting in the torch light. Mion's hands hung lightly at her sides as Belle Morte's eyes moved further down, outing the curviness of her hips to her evenly thick thighs that coveted Mion's sex. A mixture of plush cotton and drinkable silk clung to Mion's waist, the fabric gliding almost endlessly to her ankles that were bare, arched in the munificent woven chord of carpet beneath. As Mion was caught in her embarrassment, Belle Morte stepped forward, one second at the side of her over-sized bed, the next, her lips caressing Mion's jaw. Mion let out a startled gasp.
Even though her senses were indeed heightened, Belle Morte was swifter. Belle Morte glided her sharply nailed fingers sweetly over Mion's arms on either side, stopping at the hem encircling her arms at the elbows. Belle Morte's lips moved slowly up Mion's jaw then down like she was tasting with her lips, her energy like fine silk wavering over the bare spots of Mion's flesh. Mion had to swallow over the lump forming in her throat as Belle Morte moved her lips down the sleek curve of Mion's bare throat, her pulse thudding heavily under the creaminess of flesh. Belle Morte stroked that pulse thudding away under Mion's neck flesh with the slickness of her roughly edged tongue. She licked the pulse, nipping it with her soft lips making Mion's eyes flutter.
"Pourquoi étiez-vous la fin de mon Green One?" Belle Morte purred over that pulse in Mion's throat. "My beautiful one, I was late for I was fantasizing of your caress and our love making." Mion responded in one, cool, fluid sentence, even though her heart was pounding away in her throat, nearly making her gasp. Mion could do nothing as her hands laid motionless at her sides in the tender clutches of Belle Morte's hands, the ancient vampire's mouth moving along her right carotid pulse.
"Ce n'est pas une excuse pour me faire attendre," Belle Morte whispered onto Mion's neck then in a flash, her sweet mood changed to a nasty one. Belle Morte went from teasing Mion's carotid pulse, and tender caresses of her lower, bare flesh, to her hand clutched tightly around Mion's neck, her supernatural strength coming into play. Belle Morte narrowed her honey brown gaze now darkened to a blackish brown with a twinkle to them down at Mion who was now kneeling. Mion had a steady grip on Belle Morte's arm, the other dug into Belle Morte's grip fastened around her neck. Belle Morte leaned down in a graceful swoop, her gaze dark, and deadly intent etched into her facial features. She looked Mion in her eyes and sneered.
"Je ne suis pas son My Goddess verte, mais," Belle Morte purred on Mion's trembling lips. "Ce soir, je serai tout pour toi." With the last word rolling off of Belle Morte's lips, she crushed Mion's lips to hers, grinding Mion's lips to her fangs. Mion either had the choice to open her mouth, or slice her lips on Belle Morte's sharp teeth in the pressuring kiss.
Mion chose to open her lips, Belle Morte's tongue delving into the open orifice. Belle Morte's tongue glided smoothing over Mion's tongue in a passionate stroke, leading up and slowly across the roof of her mouth. Mion's knees went weak, and luckily she was already kneeling on them, Belle Morte's heeled form towering over her now. The kiss broke sooner than Mion wished it to; a whimpering moan departed her lips, following Belle Mort's. A smirk curved onto Belle Morte's lips, one of her dainty fangs caressing the cold, tender flesh there. Mion shuddered at the look, as Belle Morte's eyes glinted like before. As Mion stared into her vampire master's entrancing eyes, Belle Morte relinquished her grip on Mion's throat, sliding her index finger under Mion's chin. Belle Morte lifted Mion like this several inches in the air, smiling lovingly down at her Human Servant, gliding her form and Mion's to her luxuriant bed.
Belle Morte removed her finger, dropping her transfixed servant onto silken bed, flashing her fangs down at her. Mion swallowed softly, chewing on the very corner of her lips, propped up on her hands. Instinctively, Mion scooted back without being told to, allowing the bed to frame her entire body and for Belle Morte to straddle her, which is exactly what she did. Belle Morte moved onto the bed, above Mion, either of her red strapped legs on each side of Mion's hips. The extravagant, medieval corset dress Belle Morte wore sprawled over her bent knees and over the lower part of Mion's body. Belle Morte continued to flash her fangs down at Mion as a pair of scissors slid out of the sleeves of the dress.
Mion's eyes widened ever so slightly until Belle Morte cut the halter top she was wearing off, and stripped it from her body. Nothing but tight, rounded creamy mounds with the perkiest nipples was exposed to the torch light of the room now. Mion's breast jiggled slightly with each intake of breath that entered lungs. Belle Morte swept her hands from the jutting edges of Mion's hip up the curved waist of her to cup the delicious flesh in each palm after discarding the scissors.
"Ces belles chairs, et un coffre encore plus beau que de Bountiful, ma déesse verte." Belle Morte purred as she massaged Mion's chest in her grip, rolling her thumbs over the bumpy and tender flesh of her nipples, hardening them. Mion moaned with the simple touch making Belle Morte chuckle softly once more, that laughter rolling along Mion's nude, upper torso like warm water. It arched Mion's back into a sharp curve, undulating her hips up once against Belle Morte's, making her grin and press her hips back. Mion opened her eyes that she didn't know closed from the minute, sweet ecstasy she was feeling, her lips quivering for more.
Belle Morte lowered her face to Mion's pressing her lips to hers in a chaste, swift kiss then moved lower. She licked Mion's thundering throat, then kissed it, before moving lower yet again. Belle Morte's lips moved over the upper portion of Mion's chest that her hands were massaging. Her lip's caressed both places, sinking her fangs into the top of Mion's right breast when her mouth moved over the area a second time. Mion groaned, her body instantly placing the bite in the pleasurable category. Blood dribbled around Belle Morte's sunken, petite fangs and trickled down Mion's pale, creamy breast, Mion's back arching again. Mion's lips parted in a deep groan as Belle Morte suckled the top mound of her right breast, making small, suckling noises as she slurped up Mion's metallic, honey tasting blood hungrily.
Belle Morte continued to grope Mion's chest as her mouth fed at the top of one of those creamy mounds. Mion moaned repeatedly and softly as her hands clutched the sheet below her, riding the train of ecstasy. A small, heavy knot began forming in Mion's lower stomach, helpless to her bodies movements as it thrusted her hips up again, and again. Belle Morte relinquished the top of Mion's breast chuckling as she held her Mion's hips down with her hands. Dark, crimson liquid seeped out of two, neat puncture wounds above Mion's right breast now. It dribbled down in two rivulets as Mion's chest raised and lowered with her slightly labored breathing. She was trying to catch her breath from the sudden halt in her pleasure ride, and this made Belle Morte chuckle again, but it was a deep roll off her tongue in a seductive sigh.
"Avez vous besoin de plus, mon serviteur de l'homme?" Belle Morte whispered, her mouth now above Mion's own, caressing them ever so slightly. Belle Morte had a hand still on Mion's chest, pinning her to the silken bed beneath as the other played in the rivulets of blood leaking from her breast. The movement was swift as Belle Morte's fingers slid through the slick wetness and twirled them in the warm liquid.
"Yes. Yes I do." Mion finally spoke, her breath heavy with something primal. Belle Morte smirked as she pressed her lips to Mion's in a soft kiss which Mion returned an equally soft one. Then Belle Morte pushed in, making the kiss rougher. Mion responded with lips and teeth and tongue, begging for entrance into Belle Morte's mouth. Belle Morte pressed a finger a piece over the two, dainty holes in Mion's right breast, making her gasp, so, instead of Belle Morte opening her mouth, Mion did. Belle Morte delved her tongue into Mion's mouth, exploring like all the other times. She caressed, explored, and dominated Mion's mouth with just her tongue, her lips in tuned with Mion's own.
Belle Morte removed her fingers from Mion's chest and trailed lower, circling Mion's belly button on the way down. Her fingers skimmed the hem of the pants Mion wore, then inched lower, and twirled in the silk and cotton mixture of fabric. Belle Morte twisted it around several of her fingers and tugged roughly, tearing off the delicate fabric with a jerking motion of Mion's hips. Mion gasped against Belle Morte's lips with the movement. Mion was now nude, wearing no underwear of any fabric beneath the pants just like the halter top. Belle Morte slipped off the bed, removing herself from atop of Mion. Mion whimpered from the action, pouting those full lips of hers. Belle Morte ignored this and played a hand down her chest, making sure to skim the line of crimson corset that rested against her upper chest.
She moved a finger down, digging it beneath the fabric and loosening the strings which bonded it to her lithe body. Belle Morte tugged the one finger, and the strings snapped, the corset dress falling away at the top. Belle Morte's luscious breast spilled forth, a pale, milky color that looked as if it could be sipped up like the drink it represented. Belle Morte shimmied out of her dress, each inch that fell away, uncovered an inch of more flesh the same color as her breast. All the while, Mion stared in awe, her eyes reflecting the heat, lust, and want that consumed her body. Belle Morte strutted her 5'3' body in strappy, red heels to the bed. To her human servant that was licking her dried lips, legs propped up and spread already.
Belle Morte slid onto the bed easily and positioned herself. She was half leaning on her knees, and half propped up on her arms, gazing down at Mion. Mion swallowed passed the lump in her throat and pushed herself up to kiss Belle Morte, but instead, Belle Morte grasped Mion's thighs and bent down. She lowered her face between the soft, inner flesh of Mion's thighs and flicked her tongue out, stroking it gently over Mion's warmth. Mion shivered, sighing softly. Belle Morte stroked Mion's warmth again, and again, and again, each stroke with her tongue rougher, slower. Mion squirmed under Belle Morte's touch, moaning with each stroke, that familiar pressure swarming in her lower stomach.
Belle Morte moved her tongue, drawing circles over Mion's warmth now, the tip of it slipping between the folds of Mion's warmth. This made Mion cry out, a hand curling into the sheets she laid upon, and a hand skimming Belle Morte's back. Belle Morte dipped her tongue between Mion's folds again; her tongue brushing across Mion's clit, all the while, that knot in Mion's lower region built, and built, that final touch tipping her overboard. Mion screamed with her orgasm, her one hand shredding the sheets, and the other leaving five, straight ribbons of red down Belle Morte's back. Belle Morte shivered with Mion's nails slicing her back, then cupped Mion's warmth in her mouth, covering all of it. She sucked on Mion's warmth, her tongue playing between the folds, and drank Mion like she was a delicious beverage.
Mion's hips rose to the suction, her body riding the lasting orgasm as she came again, her eyes fluttering. Belle Morte only sucked harder, then pulled a half inch away only to sink her fangs into the upper portion of Mion's warmth, past the green curls to the flesh beneath. Belle Morte moaned at the mixed taste of both of Mion's juices, stroking her tongue above and in between Mion's slit as she continued sucking on Mion. With the puncture of her more sensitive region with Belle Morte's bite, Mion orgasmed again, screaming, Belle Morte's name rolling off her tongue.
Next thing Mion knew, she woke, her eyes rolling from inside her head, fluttering open into dim brightness. Belle Morte was straddling her now, both their warmth's pressed tightly together, slick with blood and other things. A line of crimson inched down Belle Morte's mouth as Mion gazed up through her returning vision. Mion was going to say something, but she didn't have time to or even think again when Belle Morte moved her hips against Mion's, pressing them more tightly together. Mion groaned, as Belle Morte's lower region pressed against hers, moving over the two puncture wounds on the top part of her warmth that matched the two on the mound of her breast. Belle Morte moved her hips against Mion's again, repeating this until Mion came. Each roll of Belle Morte's hips became more fluent, and determined as Mion screamed, moaned, and clawed her pleasure into the area around her, even Belle Morte's own hips. Belle Morte was enjoying all of it.
Belle Morte groaned deeply as she started coming close to her first orgasm, fighting it off as long as she could. Her raven black hair spread around herself and Mion, mingling with Mion's own lime green. Belle Morte played with Mion's chest, squeezing her ripe, perky mounds, and even twisting and pinching Mion's nipples. Belle Morte came as Mion did, digging fingernails into Mion's breast, her hips rolled into Mion's roughly. Belle Morte's orgasm made her moan Mion's name in a rolling purr, her own juices mixing with Mion's drying blood and cream beneath. Belle Morte rolled off of Mion, lying next to her human servant. Mion's eyes were closed, her chest heaving as she tried to catch inhale oxygen to tame her frantic breathing. Belle Morte chuckled in that voice of hers, the laughter spilling across Mion's sweat, blood and cream tainted flesh in a silky brush of rosary scent.
"Dors, mon déesse verte , et le reste de ce corps glorieux pour que je puisse le reprendre quand vous vous réveillez ." Belle Morte purred into Mion's ear. Mion shuddered, and a faint blush covered her cheeks as her eyelids got heavy, and closed for the night, or was it day? One couldn't tell in the catacombs beneath Belle Morte's safe haven.
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