Drusilla – Queen of Vampires: Chapter 4 – The City of Love

This is the fourth chapter of my Drusilla – Queen of Vampires series. You can read the first chapter here, the second chapter here and the third chapter here.

I awoke to the sounds of busy chattering and turning wheels. I knocked on the walls of my wooden prison. The handsome Adrien freed me and helped me up. I sat down on the hay of our cart and looked around me. We were on a busy road, although the sun had gone down. Carts, horses, people walking. I felt Adrien’s hand on my shoulder, tenderly massaging me. The wild moments of last night had crawled back into my conscious mind and I blushed slightly. Oh how my life had changed in such a short period of time!

I looked at my companion on the back of the cart and asked: “Adrien, where are we?”. He smiled at me. “We are in the city of love, my queen. Jermaine knows someone in the second arrondisement who can house us for a few nights.” We seemed to be almost in the center of Paris indeed, the buildings were closer together now. The warm evening seemed to have brought out many people, sauntering the streets, showing off their newest dresses and hats. I curiously observed the men and women that we passed. How different things were from London. The air was heavy with perfumes, laughter and flirtatious gestures.

Jermaine stopped the cart in front of a tall building. He rang the bell of the house and a servant opened the heavy wooden door. He introduced himself as Marcel. He and Jermaine had worked together in the past, and he allowed us to stay in his chambers for a while, until we could figure out our next steps. The two rooms that Marcel, an older gentleman, inhabited were small but seemed sufficient for our needs. We thanked him, and then made our way onto the streets. I wanted to breathe in and explore our new place of residence.

On the Street

People were out on the streets, sitting around tables of cafés and pubs. Life seemed to happen outside. Young and old, men and woman, were dancing to music coming out of the pubs, laughing at plays in street corners and eating food brought to them by round women dressed in short black dresses and aprons. I enjoyed the warm vibe and the friendly smiles that were thrown at me. This seemed like a perfect place to begin the next part of my journey. A fresh start. I felt in control of my destiny for the fist time in my life.

We found a free table outside a café and the men ordered sandwiches while I decided the obligatory glass of wine should be brought to me. This seemed like a splendid spot to observe new neighbours and learn how to fit into the Parisian society. A group of five young women were sitting next to us. They were all dressed beautifully, their hairstyles seemed modern and pompous, their nails perfectly shaped. They were talking loudly, laughing, waving at people passing by. Next to them stood two grim looking men. They seemed to scare off invisible suitors, as no one tried approach the enticing girls.

“They are ladies of the night, Madame”, Jermaine explained. I took a closer look at them. They seemed nothing like the prostitutes I had known in grey London. “They walk the streets?”. Jermaine laughed. “They don’t have to. Here we have Maisons closes. They are controlled, what do you call them, brothels?” I nodded.

“They have a madam running the business. The women are protected and are not allowed to leave the house alone. They get medical check-ups and they can only work if they are clean.”. I looked at him with surprise. “Is it a good work though?”

“I don’t know, queen.”, Adrien said. “It is all about which maison they work for. Some madames are worse than any monsieur could ever be”. These women certainly worked at a better place, with their clothes looking dandy and being able to spend money on a night out. One of the girls, no younger than 18, looked at me with shy eyes. Her hair was reddish brown, her eyes dark and cat-like. Her porcelain skin shone in the mysterious light of the night. She was not the skinny type. Her bosoms created a delicious cleavage, and her hips showed in her long red velvet dress. I smiled at her. She smiled back. I felt hungry.

She got up and walked over to me. I watched one of her two protectors wanting to intervene but the other held him back, acknowledging that I didn’t pose any danger to her. If only they knew! She grabbed a chair and sat next to me. “You are very beautiful, Madame.” – “How kind of you to say. You are quite pretty yourself.”. This close I could see some freckles on her nose and cheeks. She was wonderful to look at. “I am Emilie. And you are?” – “I am Drusilla. Very pleasant to make your acquaintance. “. – “Likewise. You are an English woman?”.

We continued our conversation, going into pleasantries about each other’s appearances, discussing the beauty of the night and the safety of darkness. I couldn’t take my eyes of her perfectly shaped neckline, and the bloodstream under her skin rushing. Jermaine and Adrien exchanged a curious look. “You want to go upstairs, Madame Drusilla? My auntie owns this place and we can sit in her room. It is more private.”. I coughed. “I don’t have any money to spend, dear Emilie. But I really appreciate the invitation.”. She laughed. “Women only pay if they come with their husbands. And I am not working tonight.”.

I grinned. “Well, if that is the case, my dear Emilie, let’s go!”. She laughed again, and took me by the hand. Adrien and Jermaine jumped up and wanted to follow us. But I shook my head. “I will be fine. Just wait here for me.”. They obediently sat down and watched us walk into the building.

Emilie

Her soft fingers embraced mine as we walked up the stairs to her aunt’s chambers. Emilie opened the door and we stepped into a room which was dimly lit with a candle on the bedside table. She gently pushed me against the wall, and pressed her full lips onto mine, her wet tongue opening my mouth. We kissed passionately, fingers holding onto hair and faces. Heavily breathing, we made our way to the bed. We sat down and her hands were resting on my shoulders. I felt enticed by her beauty, her experienced movements and her lust for me.

Her fingers tenderly brushed over my neck, moving down on my chest, nails leaving red marks on my half-exposed bosoms. I couldn’t take my eyes off her neckline, sensing her pulse under the porcelain skin. She opened the black ribbon at the back of my dress and pulled the top down. One strap of my undergarment was slowly moved down my right arm. The other followed on my left arm. I instinctively helped her remove what needed to be removed. Her eyes were fixated on mine while both her hands were massaging my breasts. I closed my eyes and enjoyed her touch.

She stopped and when I looked at her again, she was completely naked. Her beauty took my breath away. Full breasts with light pink nipples, a soft belly, wide hips and long legs. I wanted to touch her. I wanted to devour her. I needed to drink her. The urge to ravish her became overbearing. I moved towards her and started to kiss her cheeks, her mouth, her chin. My nails traced her neckline, her collarbone, her breasts.

My lips parted and my tongue circled one of her nipples as my hands moved up and down her sides. I licked both her breasts, then took them into my hands, squeezing them, massaging them, pulling her nipples slightly. She started to moan. I couldn’t take my eyes off her neck. But I didn’t want to scare her. However strong my need for the throbbing sensation in my button was, however much I needed to still my hunger, I wanted to see her enjoy herself more.

My hand moved down her belly and tenderly rubbed her bush, which gave out a musky smell that enhanced the wetness in my own ladyparts. “Lie on your back, Drusilla.”. I couldn’t refuse her sweet voice and sank onto the bed. She crawled up to me, turned her backside to the wall. She moved one leg over my head and her bush was hovering above my surprised face. She slowly sank down on me, and I parted her lips with my fingers. Most of my face was covered with her slickness, I could smell her and couldn’t wait to taste her.

Her button landed right on my mouth, and I started licking, sucking and tenderly biting her. Her hands were sliding down my legs, and she spread me. Her tongue touched my button. I moaned in frustration. I was not ready, there was no blood to be pumped into my happy place. But that didn’t stop her to give it the same treatment as I gave hers.

Moments later I felt her twitch on top of me, sinking ever deeper onto me. Her wetness spread over my face and my need for her blood took on new heights. She stood up and this time, I was the one to climb on top of her. She was on her back and I rested my body in between her legs. We kissed, our juices filing each other’s mouths.

I nibbled on her neck as I spread her open with my left hand. I gently pushed a finger inside her, penetrating her, then adding another finger. She responded to the movements by pushing back, happily accepting me inside her. I couldn’t hold back anymore. Her smell, her wildness, her fast heartbeat. I needed to drink her. I opened my mouth and allowed my fangs to sink deep into her perfect skin. She moaned. I took big gulps of her hot lifejuices, the taste of iron awakening my senses.

The throbbing of her pulse, the throbbing of my button, in a perfect rhythm. Three fingers now moving in and out of her, my tongue licking the red stream of blood from her skin, I rubbed myself against her thigh. She was screaming of pleasure, and her enthusiasm brought me so close to relief that I now had to use my other hand to rub myself while still pushing my fingers inside her. An overwhelming wave of pleasure overcame me with a force so strong that my body twitched uncontrollably in unison with the spasms going through her.

Both on our backs now, we were breathing heavily. “That was quite pleasant”, I whispered. We both giggled. “Drusilla, did you drink my blood?”. I froze. I had been careful to not allow any drops to be left on me, nor her.

“Are you like Carmille?”

“Who?”

“The woman in La Fanu’s story. She likes women and drinks from them.”

“Oh, Carmilla. I am not exactly like her. But similar. I need to drink to survive. But I don’t kill. So the men and women that I drink from get to live, but they are somehow bound to me. “

“I want to be bound to you.”, Emilie said, embracing my hand with her fingers. We continued talking and I asked her many curious questions about her profession. She didn’t mind what she was doing. The men who visited her were clean and rich, and the accommodations were luxurious. But the Madame of the house, Madame La Rouge, was not a very clever nor kind woman, She paid off the doctor so no one could get sent for treatment, and she allowed men to mistreat some of the women. She herself was not a stranger to violence and the girls feared her fierce anger. I did not enjoy hearing this and started to ponder. “Why don’t you come and visit tomorrow night? Madame is out until Midnight so I can show you around.”. I was excited by the idea and agreed to come and explore her maison close.

La Fleur Blanche

Waking up on steady ground and in a bed the next evening, a glass filled with fresh blood was standing on the table next to my resting place. Jermaine and Adrien were both smiling when they saw that I was pleased with this ritual. They had had a busy day, trying to get ahold of money, clothing and looking for a more permanent residence. I enjoyed their excited chatter when I washed myself and dressed in one of the beautiful dresses that they had gotten for me. Jermaine explained how he had been able to borrow a few things from the daughter of Marcel’s employer. She was with child and she wouldn’t want to wear clothing that was out of fashion next season anyway.

We walked to the first arrondissement, and stopped in front of number six on rue de Moulins. A red lamp was a lit in front of the door. The brothel was accepting customers. Jermaine knocked on the door. One of the grim looking men from the night before appeared in front of us. First looking up and down on Jermaine, his eyes found me and he smiled. “You are here to see Emilie, oui?”. I nodded. “Come on in”, he said.

We stepped into a majestic hallway. Candles in giant chandeliers, Persian carpets covering the floor. Round staircases on each side of the room. The air was filled with smoke and perfume. Half-dressed women were sitting on sofas to the right, bosoms showing, long legs exposed. A vibe of lust and passion enticed both me and my companions. I saw Emilie coming down the left staircase, wearing nothing but a white silken robe. “Drusilla!”, she exclaimed and ran towards me. A kiss on each cheek, she pulled me up the stairs.

Excitedly, she showed us the rooms, all in different themes. Large beds, wonderful wallpapers, some light, some dark. They all had names, the torture room, the ducal room, the moorish room. She introduced us to dozens of women, all beautiful in their own way. Young women, older women. Thin and round. Tall and short. Shy and loud. The impressions made my head buzz.

But suddenly Emilie turned silent and starred at something behind me. I turned around and saw a very round woman in her late 50s. Big bosoms that almost fell out of her tight dress, grey curly hair framing her face. She looked angry. “Who is this?”. She pointed at me and my two companions. I took a step towards her, “I am Drusilla.”. “I didn’t ask you. Emilie, who are they?”

“They … they are … mes amis.”., Emily stuttered. The woman walked over to the poor girl and slapped her in the face. “What did I tell you about letting anyone get into the house for free, you useless woman?”. Emilie started crying. I tried to rush to help her, but the two grim looking men protecting her last night, stepped in front of me. They pushed me, Jermaine and Adrien down the hallway, down the stairs and out of the door. The three of us looked at the closed door in front of us in disbelief.