MAKE THE STREETS RUN VAMPIRE RED – OUT NOW! On Kindle

Vampire  Story Book - Alex Severin - Vampire Erotica Stories

  

MAKE THE STREETS RUN VAMPIRE RED

US – CLICK HERE TO BUY! – $2.99 

UK – CLICK HERE TO BUY! – 2.23 GBP

Don’t have a Kindle? No problem!

You can download FREE Kindle Apps HERE for : Windows PC, iPhone, Mac, Blackberry, iPad, Android,

Windows Phone 7

The debut solo collection from Vampire Erotica writer, Alex Severin.
Alex Severin's unique brand of dark,erotic prose will kick you in the ass and grab you by the heart.

Set in the novel world of the VAMPIRE VINTAGE series, this is an introduction to characters your will be seeing a lot more of in the near
future.

With a Foreword by Alex Severin, six VAMPIRE VINTAGE stories (three online favorites and three exclusives,) a lengthy novel excerpt,
and a SECRET story online you’ll find a link for in the book.
There’s also four bonus stories too.

TABLE OF CONTENTS

Foreword by Alex Severin

The Birth of Lord Ruthven

Some of Your Gothic Blood

Sucker Club, Soho, LONDON, W1

Fuckin’ Hardcore

Secret Online Story :
www.************.com

Drain the Blood

Bloody Lovers

Excerpt -
Vampire Vintage Book One :
Belladonna in Hollywood

BONUS STORY 1 :
The Modification of a Stupid Cunt

BONUS STORY 2 :
Charlotte’s Attic

BONUS STORY 3 :
Little Prick

BONUS STORY 4 :
The Blair

US – CLICK HERE TO BUY! – $2.99

UK – COMING SOON!
  

From THE BIRTH OF LORD RUTHVEN

A short note at the top of the story page stated that a novel, Bloody Love had been born from this short story and was due for mass market publication very soon.

+CruxShadow666+ began to read.
He was perched on the edge of his seat, his breathing rapid, muscles taut as he read.
Soon, the throb between his legs became unbearable, his cock rigid and
pressed hard against the hot leather of his trousers. He fumbled frantically
to pull them down but his zipper was stuck and the material adhered to
the excited sweat on his skin. He huffed and puffed, panted, swearing at
his uncooperative pants and vowing to kill them if they did not comply.

 
From SOME OF YOUR GOTHIC BLOOD

He thought his neatly trimmed Van Dyk beard made him look like a hot Satan. Eddie Crowe really and truly thought he was the shit.

But this wasn’t going to be any ordinary night of stringless sex. These three

gothic goddesses wanted something more from Eddie Crowe other than raw, animal fucking. They wanted something else from him – The Goth Star – but it wasn’t his body, it wasn’t risky impregnation, infamy and child support.Only when she was sure every candle was lit and in place did she turn off the main light in her apartment.

There were dozens of them, all shapes and sizes, but each one made from virginal-white wax and placed in a black glass holder. They covered every flat, stable surface in the room.

A plume of heady-scented incense smoke swirled lazily into the air; the room was filled with the aroma of red and black berries and a hint of frankincense, a top note of exotic spices from far away places. The scent made her think of excited sweat on dark skin.

 
From VAMPIRE VINTAGE BOOK ONE : BELLADONNA IN HOLLYWOOD

And now, back home and in her room, radio on and again listening to the sound of his voice, Belladonna could now see his face when she closed her eyes, could see his hypnotic stare. She felt the tide of her blood rise, throbbing inside her like never before, and found the rhythm of her own hips as she sweated in the dark.

He had helped her on the arduous journey to being a woman, made her feel things she had never felt, want things she had not experienced, things she knew nothing of before. And now, she wanted much more of him than just his words. She wanted to feel more than the touch of her own hand and the sound of his voice.

 
From THE MODIFICATION OF A STUPID CUNT

I stare at my dark reflection, at the scars where searing brand marks once were, at the pieces of metal he raped my flesh with – coils of wire, steel plates, metal springs and spikes and studs – tiny pieces of pain scavenged from dead machines.

I cut away these scars now, cut them out with surgical steel that flashes in the half-light. There are more scars now, bigger, deeper, uglier. But they are my scars, scars that I have made. I chose to make these, not him. I have erased his signature from my skin – all except one. I always leave one. I cannot bare to remove every trace.

 
From LITTLE PRICK

It took him a whole minute to shoot his load – in and out a couple of dozen times; my tired, bored pussy drier than the Sahara, the pussy he couldn’t get wet if he poured a bucket of water over it.

I fucking loathe him. His flesh connecting with mine in any manner makes my skin crawl, makes my gut tighten.

I hate the cruel straight line he calls a mouth. I have always found it at odds with his elegant speech, the words he uses, his impeccable pronunciation. It just does not seem right that such eloquence should come from that hateful gash in his face.

 
From THE BLAIR

It was a dark and brooding building; twisted, sparsely leaved vines clawed their way up her facade like painful arthritic fingers. The wild and unruly grounds reached up from the earth as if they were trying to pull the house down nto the comfort of her muddy womb.

Her broken windows were like soulless, sightless eyes. But Victoria knew the building as not soulless – she felt that within those rotting walls lived the souls of many.

It wasn’t just his body they were after.

They wanted what was inside him.

Published in: on January 8, 2011 at 10:00 pm  Leave a Comment  

DRAIN THE BLOOD

A ‘VAMPIRE RED’ short story by Alex Severin.

(The following short story is based on a scene in my novel, ‘VAMPIRE RED.’)

Lily couldn’t take any more. The knot in her gut would not leave and her stomach felt as if it was digesting itself. She felt sick, she felt guilty. She felt used. She was every psychotic’s excuse for their own psychoses.

She felt tainted, poisonous and poisoned. He insides seemed rancid to her, toxic.

The guilt and the fear and the finger-pointing were taking their toll on Lily. She needed a release from the stress and the anguish and the guilt that was weighing her down, eating her up. She needed to be cleansed, be rid of the spilled blood she felt now flowed through her own veins.

Lily sat on the cold white-tiled floor in the bathroom and rummaged in her vanity case. She found a disposable razor and a nail file to pry open the plastic casing and liberate the instrument of her redemption.

She gazed at the razor blade, looked at it as if it were something mystical, something mysterious, something that held answers to unanswerable questions, and all she needed to do was feed it to gain that knowledge.

She drew the blade slowly across the pad on her index finger and closed her eyes, savouring the pain and the release it gave her. She smiled as her blood welled up like a glistening wet garnet. She watched, entranced, as the blood began to trickle down the length of her finger and into the palm of her hand. She sat there, eyes closed again, bloodied palm outstretched, her face beaming like an ecstatic stigmatic.

Lily raised her hand to her mouth and slowly licked at the red stream. The flavor of piquant metal on her tongue sedated her, began to thaw out the chill in her bones and made her feel a few moments of calm and peace.

But she needed more. Wanted more. A trickle was not enough when what she wanted was a scarlet gush to flush out the dirt. She had to cut deeper, harder. She needed to drain the blood.

She didn’t want to die. She didn’t want to not exist. She just wanted to bleed.

Lily drew the blade down the length of her forearm, deep enough for the wound to piss blood, but not deep enough to bleed her dry.

She felt the pristine chemical rush of endorphins and adrenaline kick in as the blood dripped on to the clinical white tiles and the pain made her shut her eyes tight and take in her breath sharply.

She looked at the pool of her own blood, warm, wet and fluid, in stark contrast to the cold, hard ceramic. She dipped her fingers in the crimson pool and began to write on the floor.

She wrote, in bold letters.

Vampire Red.

A colour.

Make the streets run vampire red, the Ministry of Lily had told their cult members via their website.

“Vampire red,” she said. Her words echoed off the cold, hard walls and came back to her like the whisper of a ghost.

Lily cleaned the bathroom until no trace of blood was visible. She was sure that if it were to be sprayed with Luminol, it would look like an abattoir , but to the naked eye it was once again hospital white.

“Vampire Red,” she whispered again as she closed the door behind her.

© Alex Severin 2004

The © above means that I wrote this story. I own the copyright. If you use this story on a blog or website, you MUST put my name on it. If you do not, this is called COPYRIGHT INFRINGEMENT and PLAGIARISM and is against the law.

Follow

Get every new post delivered to your Inbox.