Bloody Shore Leave

Men swirled around us as well as around those on the stage, baring their fangs and smiling and giving us longing looks, but Stefan kept them at bay—with hisses if words in a foreign language weren't working. Again, there was no sign of hostility from these men. They had no trouble backing off when Stefan signaled for them to do so. It was as if they were just complimenting me.

None of this shocked or frightened me. Occasionally, I had a twinge in my mind of it all being strange and foreign and that perhaps . . .

But at those points, Stefan would whisper or transmit mentally, "Calm yourself. Take pleasure from the moment. You will have no more pleasure than this in your life—giving me pleasure is giving it to yourself," and, as he bid, I would settle down and live in the moment.

As we were leaving the club behind the Café Romania, the young stripper on the stage had been permitted to sink to the ground, ashen white, and another of the young men from the audience was being brought up to the stage and undressed.

The apartment Stefan took me to, again only a few blocks away from the garage, was on the water on 1st Street, near the Coronado ferry landing, facing mainland San Diego across the inner channel. We were never far away from the where the USS Carl Vinson was docked. I stood at the window, still a little hazy but mellow, surprisingly so considering what I'd been through that night, while Stefan went around the living room lighting candles. The other lights were off. Stefan obviously needed the lighting to be dim. I could see the aircraft carrier, its runway lights on, hovering up the island coast from the window.

When the candles were lit, Stefan stood next to a futon that was rolled out on the floor in the center of the room and disrobed. It was the first time I'd seen him fully naked. He had the body of a god—muscular, perfectly proportioned, hirsute, and powerful. He was hugely hung and in full erection. He motioned me to come to him and I did, going down on my knees before him and taking his shaft in my mouth, giving him deepthroating head. He pulled my jumper over my head and then, when he wished, he put his hands under my armpits and raised me up. We kissed as he unbuttoned my trousers fly and pushed the pants and jock strap down to my ankles. He frotted our cocks together briefly as we kissed.

He pulled away from me and lay down on his back on the futon. It was well after midnight. When he beckoned to me, I came down on top of him, straddling his hips, and descended my channel on his cock, only able to take the thickness of him slowly and with much panting. Languidly moving at first, up and down, up and down, turning to frenzied rising and falling as we approached climax, I rode him for an hour or more through three mutual ejaculations. He seemed to have no problem keeping an erection or producing ejaculations, and he was able to bring an outstanding performance out of me, as well, edging me off just as I was approaching the point of no return. He would then hold me rigid in his embrace as he released repeatedly inside me. The ride would start again almost immediately. He maintained an erection. I was his slave, yielding to whatever his desire was.

Half way through the third ride, he raised his chest to mine, embraced me, his fingers pressing into my shoulder blades, and, while I continued to ride his cock, his face nuzzled into the hollow of my neck. I obediently turned my head, exposing my carotid artery, and he fed on me.

As we fucked and he fed, our bodies fused into one, my blood coursing through both of our veins, his cock growing in girth and length from the augmentation of his essence, and we moved as one unit in a rhythmic dance, rising ever higher into the stratosphere of union and pleasure and satisfaction.

Yes, yes, YES! coursed through my brain.

Yes, yes, YES! came back to me in Stefan's internal voice.

It wasn't only the internal possession by the strengthening, ever thrusting, shaft. It would not have been the same without the taking of my blood. And it wasn't just the increase in the girth and reach of his cock I experienced. As he stretched me, the muscles of my channel came alive, rippling over the cock, grasping and undulating over it, making love to the pumping shaft that created a passion and rhythm of the two sex organs all their own.

We were one.

At the same time that I was sighing and moaning the fulfillment of my pleasure and of my completion as a slave to the master, I grew weaker and more confused and hazy and yet more contented and satiated. I know not when I lost consciousness, sinking into a deep sleep, but I was aware that I still lived, although so weakened for a while that I knew my heart barely beat and that I had no control over my body.

When he'd begun to feed during the fuck, the concern that I would be drained and die went through my mind, but he assured me—although it was an assertion to his complete ownership of me as well. "Calm yourself," he murmured. "I have centuries of experience in this. I know where the edges are. You are young, virile, and fit, with admirable recuperative powers. I will not destroy you unless or until I wish to."

Stefan must have left me close to dawn, moving into the apartment's bedroom and shutting and locking the door from the inside. He'd told me already that he slept through the day and would not be with me then. I spent the day stretched out on the futon, slowly regaining my facilities and recovering my stamina.

In the twilight, he reappeared from the bedroom, dressed now all in black, with a black cape. There was no more pretending from me that he was something other than what he was. He was still a beautiful, commanding master and god to me.

We drove back to the Café Romania for dinner and then to the men's club behind it.

At the door to the club and in answer to the host's repeated question from the night before, Stefan now said, "Da, Ionut, în seara asta îl împărtășesc pe tânăr." I still did not know what they had said, and now I was too well indoctrinated to ask, but I could tell by the way the man—introducing himself to me as Ionut—touched me possessively that tonight, the last night of my shore leave, that Stefan would not be the only man using me. Stefan's demeanor indicated he would give this man license to use me as well.

Yes, I realized that this willingness to share me signaled that Stefan was beginning to give me up—moving toward either using me up or abandoning me. And, yes, I already was feeling the loss of him.

He wants to . . . must I let him . . . will I die at his hands . . .? he isn't . . . he isn't you, ran through my thoughts. I wasn't that the man wasn't desirable. He was very sexy—as sexy as Stefan was, as impossible as that seemed. But I was here with Stefan. Stefan was my master—now completely so.

"Yes, you must," Stefan answered my thought. "Ionut is our host here. I must pay my dues here. You will pay them for me. We cannot insult him by refusing him. Give Ionut what you would give me. He has centuries of experience just as I have. He will savor you. He recognizes you are my slave. He will make love to you as he uses you and you will rejuvenate him. But you are my slave. If anyone is to take you beyond the pale now, it will be me."

That settled it. I didn't question. I let Ionut place a hand on my buttocks and squeeze as we entered the dimly lit, smoke-filled club room.

And that was the case. Ionut guided us to the same banquette we'd occupied the evening before, but he didn't leave. As I sat beside Stefan, Ionut leaned over me and kissed me. His hands went to the buttons on my sailor's trousers and he unbuttoned and flared the fly. When I looked into his face, he smiled, opened his mouth, and showed his fangs.

While he was positioning me and mounting me, going through my mind was that no matter how sexy Ionut was, this wasn't what I wanted.

But Stefan muttered, "It is what I and Ionut want, and I am your master. You will willingly give to Ionut what you willingly now give to me."

And so I did.

He stripped the trousers and my jock strap off my legs, hooked my knees on his hips, unzipped and released himself, mounted me from in front, hovering over the banquette, and fucked me. Stefan didn't stop him. He merely turned toward me, grasped my cock, and stroked me while Ionut fucked me. The club host took my mouth briefly with his but quickly had moved to nuzzling into my throat, slicing into my carotid and feeding on me. Sucking and fucking. I settled down to the known consuming pleasure of it.

Once Ionut was inside me and his fangs had sliced into my throat and he was feeding of me, the experience became the same as it had been with Stefan the previous night, and I settled down to merging into the beautiful body crouched over me. The shaft inside me thickened and lengthened and gained strength and power over me as my blood mingled with his. We moved as one, the pleasure and sensuality and satisfaction of the coordinated-movement fuck lifting me in a stratosphere of contentment and fulfillment. We came together, as I assumed that masters like Ionut and Stefan were able to accomplish at will, with Ionut fucking me in my inner, vulnerable core and Stefan stroking my cock off.

The flow inside me went on at great length, during which I rocked against his loins in waves of pleasure from the breeding and moaned my surrender. His cum gurgled up his shaft, dribbling out of my hole and down my inner thighs.

As Ionut pulled away from me, standing, and readjusting his clothing, I heard myself whisper, "Yes, yes, don't leave me. Do me again," which was just what I had whispered to Stefan the previous night as dawn approached and he left me, needing to dance on the clouds again, continuously, even though he had ravished me for hours and drained me to dangerous levels.

I could feel the separation from Stefan beginning. Any vampire would do. It was probably a gift from Stefan, him knowing he would not keep me with him.

Both Ionut and Stefan laughed, Stefan not showing a bit of jealousy, and Ionut disappeared into the smokey darkness. Stefan gathered me to him, as I slowly began to be aware of my surroundings again. I expected him to put me on the cock and nuzzle his face into the hollow of my neck again, but he didn't. He directed my attention to the stage and murmured, "Soon that will be you up there. I have agreed to share you with the room."

I, of course, knew what he was saying, but I was too mellow in the moment for it to alarm me. I did let creep into my thoughts whether I would survive this evening—whether I had enough blood yet to give to be alive when Stefan's plans for and use of me was done for the night and dawn was approaching. I should have been concerned about his verbal answer to my thoughts—but I wasn't. I was totally his—and anyone like him—now.

"I haven't decided yet," was Stefan's answer to my thoughts. "Do you want to ascend into the universe or do you want to be one of us?"

I didn't answer that either way, either aloud or in my thoughts. It was too disturbing a choice for me to consider, let alone decide. I just thought, I am yours. It is your decision.

Stefan laughed. "Yes, it is," he said. "Now you understand. You have no choice in the matter anymore."

"I'm afraid," I murmured.

"Don't be. You will cross over tonight, but not into the land of the dead."

The performance on stage once again was that of the previous night. A young man stripping and then men mounting the stage and mounting the young man and fucking and sucking him. The change this night was that, when the young man sank to the floor, drained, and the husk of him was hauled away, it was I who was escorted up on the stage and, pulling my jumper off, danced for the men until I was mounted by a succession of sexy and hirsute men with cat eyes and was fucked and sucked. I went to somewhere on the upper scales of pleasure and fulfillment with each of the men, all of whom were fit and hung, with increasing enhancement as they fucked and sucked. All were accomplished in this new world of being master over me that I was discovering.

Any vampire will do now. I had tried to keep that out of my thoughts, but it intruded now. Stefan's only response across the ether was to laugh.

At some point, I being so far gone that I had neither the energy, consciousness, or the will to resist, I became so weak that I wasn't able even to open my legs for the man without help. There were men there to help, though, standing on either side of me, holding my legs raised and spread and tipping my pelvis up, for another man to nestle in between my thighs and penetrate and fuck me while nuzzling his face into my throat and taking suck.

I was so deep into pleasure and mellowness that I no longer cared. But Stefan must have cared on some level and to some extent. After the fifth or sixth vampire, Stefan leaped onto the stage, hissed the other men away, and carried me off.

He didn't take me back to the channel-side apartment, though. He drove me, me stretched across the backseat of the Eldorado, back to the McCain Boulevard gates of the naval air station, pulling me out of the car deep in the night and letting me sink to the ground by the guard house, and driving off without a word. I couldn't help but cry out for him in my thoughts, asking him if he was just going to abandon me there, but no answer came back. The thought that it was all for the best, although life would be entirely changed for me from here on out—and nonending—floating into my brain, I had no reason to think that was Stefan's thought any more than it was mine.

* * * *

I was taken as having drunk myself into a stupor for the duration of my shore leave. I was carried back to the USS Carl Vinson and was permitted to sleep myself back to health in my berth as the aircraft carrier prepare for a sail to Hawaii.

I knew I was on the mend when my supervisor on the catapult maintenance crew now that I had switched to the night crew, and ugly-as-sin but monster hung black muscle guy, Chief Petty Officer Second Class, Dewain Tremble, turned me on my back in my bunk in the hours of the morning. I now was gravitating to be more active at night than in the day. He climbed on top of me, put my ankles on his shoulders, mounted me, and fucked the shit out of me. He was thick going in, as there had been little preparation, and I initially thought this would be fully satisfying, but as I opened to him and he thrust, he didn't enlarge and stretch me as Stefan and Ionut had, and, although we moved together well enough, the fuck didn't grow, moving up the scale in satiation. My channel walls weren't activated to ripple over his shaft. We didn't reach the nirvana that both Stefan and Ionut had taken me to. It was a good "come-back-to-life" fuck, but he didn't latch onto my throat with his teeth and suck as he fucked, so it didn't take me into the higher realms of sensuality where Stefan and Ionut had taken me, and where I now longed to go.

The vampires had spoiled me in having sex with mere humans.

Over time I began to forget the details of that shore leave, but I didn't forget the strangeness of the experience or the pleasure and contentment achieved within the fear, draining, and pain. And, under the tutelage of Stefan—or whoever he actually was—I was changed forever. I no longer achieved the satisfaction fuck that I had before I had been taken and indoctrinated by a vampire, as a sign of things to come, the voice of Stefan came to me in the night, saying, "You are in control now. You can make it happen for yourself. Just be careful; pace yourself. Don't get caught. But don't worry if you are caught. They won't know how to stop you, but if you panic them, it will be more of a challenge to hunt and feed."

* * * *

We were all mustered out on the vast deck of the USS Carl Vinson, steaming between Hawaii and Guam, when the ship's brass finally realized sailors were missing. I had tried to follow Stefan's advice—that maintaining renewable sources was more important than terminal satisfaction—but I was a neophyte at this. There were a whole lot of sailors on an aircraft carrier like this, roaming around, doing a lot of things, on a 24/7 shifts basis. We were a very impressive number when we had all come up on deck and been assembled in formation by our separate crews. Petty Officer Tremble had been fucking me in his berth, he having a more private cubicle than I did, when we got the call. This was a rarity. I'd never known of such an all-hands-on-deck assembly being done before. We were there for a one-time-everyone-in-place head count.

Tremble treated me just as he did all of the rest on the night catapult maintenance crew—that is surly—as we stood in formation and took the count. We were all accounted for in our own crew. I had been more careful than that. At the end of the count, there were three men missing from the ship's roster—none in my unit. We weren't formally told of that, of course, but the information got around. I didn't need to hear it; I already knew there were three missing—two en route to Hawaii from San Diego, and one the second night out of Hawaii on the sail to Guam. Well, there were four, but the fourth hadn't been detected yet. I was still learning where the edge was in feeding.

During formation, Tremble had given me the evil eye, had been gruff to me, and had called me a fag in front of the other men. There were men in the crew who knew I'd lay down for another man, of course, because I had lain down for them on the previous cruise. I don't know if they knew I laid down for the black bull, Tremble, too, but he acted that day, as we roasted on deck in formation, and they took the count, like he was homo antagonistic. And maybe he was. That didn't stop him from fucking me, though. I didn't appreciate his attitude.

He pulled me aside afterward. "I'm sorry," he said. "There has been talk of you and me and I had to put a stop to that."

Of course there had been talk, I thought. He had been fucking me—not that he had been the only one who had been fucking me. He was the only one I wasn't doing more with, however. I enjoyed his muscularity, the blackness of him, the size and power of his cock. He didn't do it all for me—not like Stefan and Ionut had done—but he had been pleasant to couple with. And I realized I was having trouble finding the edge. Until now I hadn't even gotten into the deeper use of him.

"That's all right," I answered, although of course it was not all right. "You can make it up to me. There are no planes scheduled to lift off for a couple of more days. You could give the other lads half the night off tonight and we could meet with more privacy than either of our berths allow."

He thought this was a wonderful idea, as I knew he would. We met in a rope locker room set in the conning tower in the hour after midnight, and we both stripped, not usually being able to do so fully when we fucked. Tremble wedged himself behind a pile of coiled ropes between us and the locker door, and I descended onto his lap, facing him, lowering myself on that thick, long, jet-black erection of his. He was fit, vigorous, and virile. I rode him for nearly a half hour, building up the intensity and the mutual pleasure, becoming one as a copulating unit, moving into the frenetic dance of the deep fuck. He was so much into the ride that he had no hesitation in going with the movement as I kissed and nipped my way up his barrel chest and nestled my face into the hollow of his neck.

It took him longer than it would have taken for him to save himself to realize that my nipping had turned into slicing my fangs into his carotid and feeding on him while I raised and lowered my channel on his cock and he neared an ejaculation. He was concentrating on the building liftoff. He was also having incredible sex, such as he'd never had before, and didn't see the danger coming. He, in fact, did not in his wildest dreams understand what the danger was and where it was coming from. He just knew that, as the fuck intensified and I both rose and fell on his cock and fed at his throat, he felt the muscles of my channel kick in and ripple of his cock and make love to it as he never had experienced before. He couldn't get enough of it—or so he believed.