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Bite Night

Aran had always been told that the graveyard on the edge of town was haunted. The local story said that people used to hang themselves in the woods behind the graveyard. Their bodies would be recovered and buried a short way away, leading rise to the location of the graveyard. The ghosts of the dead, having committed suicide, were denied access to heaven. Thus their spirits wondered the earth blah blah blah. As far as local ghost stories went, it was pretty cliché. Aran actually walked through the graveyard to get home after work, and he'd never seen a ghost. He didn't even feel uneasy about the graveyard. How could you feel uneasy about a place when all the occupants were dead?

The woods though… they looked genuinely creepy. They formed part of a private estate and supposedly hid an old mansion. Aran didn't really know if there was an old house buried somewhere in there, but the woods were very real. The trees were all ancient, gnarled and thick, in a way only English oak could be. The estate didn't have a fence around it, so Aran had assumed people were able to explore the forest, but even the most determined explorers (apparently) couldn't navigate the twisting, densely packed trunks.

Everyone who had tried to venture into the heart of the woods would find themselves back where they started, on the edge of the treeline. Cameras and GPS reportedly stopped working after a few meters into the trees, and even aerial photography only produced blurred and heavily distorted results. All the more reason, Aran thought, to never go into the woods. Even after three years living in town, he had never even been near the treeline. Though tonight would turn out to be different.

He was walking home through graveyard, the path squelching under his boots. The cold autumnal rain created a halo of orange light around the single, lonely lamppost. It was only five thirty, yet it was about as dark as you could get on a rainy October night. Aran paused under the lamp to adjust his raincoat.

He sighed and drew his hood tighter, glancing around the graveyard. He had a strange feeling that something was amiss. Though he couldn't tell what that might be. He had never felt uneasy walking through the graveyard before. He glanced up towards the woods. They seemed even more threatening in the dark. But…

Aran peered through the rain and the gloom. He was sure he had seen something moving. He was right. Something pale and ghostly moved between the trees on the very edge of the woods. Aran didn't feel afraid. Instead he felt annoyed. He stepped through the gravestones and went up to the fence at the back of the graveyard.

“Oi! Fuck off would you?" he shouted. He knew it was near Halloween, but trying to scare people in this weather was stupid. The figure seemed to pause, before continuing along the tree line.

Aran didn't know why, but this annoyed him even more. He was sure he could hear people whispering. He looked along the fence and saw a gap. He squeezed through, swearing under his breath. His foot slipped on the mud, and he caught his hand on one of the sharp bits of wrought iron sticking out of the fence. He fell through onto the other side with a splat. Picking himself up he tried to examine his hand in the gloom. It would be bleeding for sure.

Looking up he saw the pale figure moving through the trees. The whispering had gotten louder. Clearly these people weren't very good at being sneaky. Aran stepped forwards and stopped dead. He realised he was right in front of the woods. The trees were a lot thicker and gnarled up close. He peered through the undergrowth and saw the figure. It looked… serpentine? Aran stepped into the woods, passing from grassy graveyard to soft soil, crunchy twigs and leaves. He followed the figure through the trees. It seemed to be sticking to the edge of the woodland. As it passed a gap between two trees, Aran saw it clearly.

Or rather, saw her clearly. It was a snake. A very tall, pale-scaled Naga. She glided through the forest on long, undulating coils. As she passed the gap in the trees, her head turned to look at Aran. His body froze. Even in the darkness and rain, he could somehow see her eyes clear as day. They were piercing and crimson. He felt like a rabbit caught in headlights. His breath caught in his throat and his heart beat faster.

Then, after almost an eternity had passed (although it had been a second at most), she disappeared into the trees, heading into the forest. Aran blinked. He looked around, and then ran to where she had been. He headed in the direction she had gone, branches whipping at his face, thick roots tripping his feet.

“Why am I doing this?" He thought, ducking under a branch as fat drops of water splashed through the trees, running down his neck and into his raincoat. He suddenly caught site of her again. She was sitting still, looking down the path towards him. He could see know she was completely naked. Her scales glistened in the rain. Her crimson eyes once again locking with his. Once again his body froze. Aran didn't know if he was frozen in terror or something else.

This time she sat there, staring at him through the trees. Aran wasn't sure if she was a ghost or something else, but she was definitely real. She blinked slowly, raising her arm towards him. She beckoned with a finger, before vanishing into the trees.

“Don't follow her!" His mind screamed as his body began to move. “I shouldn't be doing this. I should go back. Just turn around now. It'd be easy."

He even managed to glance over his shoulder. The thick trees and undergrowth, combined with the fact it was pitch black under the trees, meant he had no idea where he had come from.

“Okay, maybe not that easy."

He pushed forwards, fighting through the undergrowth. He kept telling himself he should go back. It wasn't worth it. But every time he blinked, those eyes would flash before him. Every time he shielded his face from the whipping branches, he could see those eyes. Like they were drawing him deeper into the forest. Half his brain was screaming at him to turn around and leave, but the other half was telling him he needed to investigate, and it was growing louder.

The whispering continued as he went, growing louder. Fragments of words. Snippets of sentences. As hard as they were to make out, they all seemed to be telling him the same thing. Follow. Suddenly the undergrowth cleared and Aran emerged into a wide-open space. As he did so, the clouds cleared and the full moon shone through. The ground was bathed in silvery blue light. Aran saw he was standing on an immaculate lawn that stretched up towards a grand old manor house.

The snake had stopped on the lawn. Her back was to him, arms outstretched, like she was bathing in the moonlight. Her coils were gathered neatly beneath her. They were thick, powerful looking and shimmering in the moonlight. She lowered her arms, turning to face him. Aran was struck by how beautiful she was. He normally wasn't into anthro girls, but this one was stunning. He looked up at her face, her crimson eyes transfixing him again. But this time it was different. He couldn't move, but that seemed to be all right.

She beckoned him closer and he found his body moving independently of his brain, eyes still fixed on hers. He stopped, less than half a metre of grass separating them.

“Welcome to my home." She said. Her voice was rich and melodious. It was the kind of voice you could spend hours listening to and not get tired of it.

“Your home? You live here? Who are you? And where are we? Nobody can get this deep in the woods." Aran blurted, his words practically tripping over each other. The snake laughed.

“Come. Perhaps I will answer your questions when we are inside." She said, turning and heading for the manor. Aran stood there, mouth slightly agape. Then he realised he was shivering. His clothes were soaked through, and with the cloud cover gone the temperature had plummeted. Considering he didn't know the way back through the forest, the only option left to him was follow this strange naked snake lady.

***

The double doors to the manor closed with a heavy thud. Aran looked around the sumptuous décor with wide eyes. The floors were marble, and dark red drapes hung from the walls, pinned back to give the ceiling a vaulted look. He didn't have enough time to soak it all in or pick out the details though. The butler who had opened the door was soon whisking him off down a corridor, separating him from the snake.

“Please, get changed, clean up your hand and then ring the bell. I shall escort you to the mistress." The white furred, red-eyed fox said.

The door closed and Aran was left by himself in a changing room that was nicer than his entire house, wondering what the hell was going on. He sighed, peeling off his raincoat. He didn't feel like he was in any danger. Maybe this snake was massively eccentric, but staying here for the night had rapidly become his only option. He washed his hand in a sink with golden taps. The cut on his hand was relatively deep. It would probably require stitches.

He washed it the best he could and wound a bandage around it (a silver tray had been left with a small stack of them, neatly arranged, of course). He took off the rest of his wet clothes and picked up the pair of soft silk trousers. They were more like pyjamas than proper trousers. He put them on, and then put on the dressing gown that accompanied them. When he was suitably dressed (complete with slippers) he rang the small brass bell he had been given. The fox butler returned, motioning Aran to follow him.

They proceeded through the manor, up the main staircase. What Aran saw made his eyes widen. The rooms they went past, and even the corridors, were full of people, humans and anthros, all engaged in what looked like an orgy. Everyone was naked, the sounds and smells of sex hung in the air. Some people lounged on benches in the corridors, while others were busy fucking each other in the rooms.

Aran couldn't help but stare at the debauchery. It was incredible. He also noticed something strange. For every 'normal' person, there was one with pale white skin or scales or fur, and red eyes. These were the ones who looked up at him as he walked past. He could feel their eyes on his back as he followed the butler. Hey headed down a large, open corridor towards a set of elaborate doors. The butler knocked once, and opened them, ushering Aran inside.

The room was more of a boudoir than a bedroom. Drapes and wall hangings and silks adorned the walls and the ceilings. Cushions, loungers and huge pillows were scattered over the floor. Everything was in rich oranges, reds and browns. The cushions, pillows and loungers were occupied by more people, but these ones seemed different. There was less rampant fucking and more… cuddling. Gentle sex. Kissing, nibbling, biting, stroking…

Aran shook his head. He doubted these trousers could hide his arousal very well. The white snake was reclining on a chaise lounge in the middle of the room. It was the biggest one Aran had ever seen, large enough for four people to sit comfortably abreast. She was being fussed over by other white, red-eyed people. She waved a hand and they dispersed.

She slithered onto the floor and came up to Aran. Even without the coils she would be significantly taller than him.

“Welcome, once again, to my home." She said with a warm smile.

“Oh, thank you." Aran replied, feeling both nervous and aroused. This whole evening had become unbelievably bizarre.

“I understand you have questions. Please, come sit." She said, guiding him over to the chaise lounge. She lay down on it, but Aran could only bring himself to perch nervously on the edge.

“What the hell his going on here?" He said, rather flatly. The snake chuckled. A quite ripple of giggles spread around the room. Aran bit his bottom lip, trying not to turn to look around.

“I am Astarte, the mistress of this household." The snake replied, idly tracing a finger up and down her chest, sliding it between her naked breasts. It was all Aran could do to maintain eye contact.

“Uh… nice to meet you, my name is Aran. You still haven't answered my question."

“Ah… an orgy, of sorts. One that has been going for the last two hundred years. I haven't the heart to tell them to stop."

Aran scoffed, despite himself.

“Two hundred years? Well, you all must have impressive stamina."

“Of course. Half of us are vampires."

Aran burst out laughing.

“Wow. Really? I'm… no that's… sorry but vampires?"

“Oh yes. The rest are our thralls. Not vampires, but no longer mortal either. They're the ones wearing the collars."

Aran looked around. There were indeed people wearing collars, in a huge range of styles and materials.

“I've been watching you for some three years now, Aran. I wanted to invite you to join our coven." Astarte continued, reaching for the belt on his dressing gown.

Aran jumped to his feet, backing away from her.

“Okay! You know what? No. Just no. I'm not going to join your freaky sex cult!" He said, face going rather red. “And I'm not that keen on you stalking me either!"

Astarte sighed. Aran was grabbed from either side by two of the white, red-eyed 'vampires'. He moved to struggle, but their grip was like iron. He hadn't even seen them move.

“Get off me!"

Another ripple of laughter rolled around the room. Astarte got off the lounger and came up to him. The two vampires undid his dressing gown, pulling it off him and letting it fall to the floor.

“I had hoped that you would have willingly accepted the first bite." She said, eyes sparkling. Now Aran could see the fangs. They weren't like snake fangs. They were slightly thicker and shorter, and somehow much sharper looking.

“No matter. You'll willingly accept the second."

Her coils wound their way up his body, the other vampires letting go of him as she bound him. Her coils were soft and warm and comfortably tight. Aran felt a wave of relaxation pass through him. Just being held like this made it hard to think. He shook his head, trying to clear it.

“Stop it! I don't wan- agh!" His protest was cut short when Astarte grabbed him by the head and tilted it back and to the side, exposing his neck. She wasn't particularly rough, but her insane strength made it impossible to physically resist her. She leaned in close, inhaling deeply.

“Oh… your blood smells so sweet. Don't worry, pet. Soon you'll see things from our perspective." She cooed, licking his neck.

“N-no! Get off! Stop it!" Aran begged. Vampire or not, those teeth could do serious damage. He felt her warm, wet mouth press against his neck, and her fangs sink into his flesh.

He cried out as she bit him, but as soon as his blood began to flow, his resistance died. Warmth and relaxation spread through his body as Astarte gulped down her first mouthful of blood. His eyelids drooped and his body slumped in her coils. He couldn't even wiggle his toes. He didn't really want to move at all. Her arms wrapped around his back and shoulders, holding him against her. He let out a contented sigh as his thoughts clouded over.

With a wet pop she released his neck, licking her lips, panting slightly. Not from breathlessness, but from her own arousal. He whined softly as she released him. He didn't want her to stop. He wanted to stay in that embrace forever. She smiled down at him, slowly uncoiling from around him. She took him by the hand and led him back to the chaise lounge. He followed obediently, his arousal clearly evident.

As they lay down, she looped her coils loosely and haphazardly around him, pulling him against her.

“There. Isn't that better?" She said softly, running a hand over his bare chest.

“Nnmm… yes…" He sighed. She smiled, picking up his bandaged hand. Removing the bandage she licked the cut, sucking on it gently. Aran gasped. Even that felt too good. She pulled back, and there was only a scar remaining.

“There. All better." She said, kissing him on the forehead.

Aran looked at his hand, slowly flexing and clenching his fingers. It was amazing!

“How did you…"

“Vampires are not how most people think. We are not cold, dead things. Just… different. We have our own wants and needs. Our own desires… and lusts." As she said it, her tail pulled down his trousers, revealing his erection. She shifted her body on top of his, burying him in her scales. She let out a long; slow sigh as she sank her warm, wet pussy down his shaft. He moaned and quivered as she hilted him, pressing her breasts into his face.

“Mmmh… I know you want to." She breathed, “Don't hold back."

Aran licked one of her nipples, pulling it into his mouth and sucking on it. Astarte moaned, pushing down against him. She tightened her coils slightly, making him gasp. She slowly rotated her hips, feeling his hard cock throbbing inside of her. She didn't pull back, keeping his member firmly in place inside her hot, slippery pussy. Aran was pinned by her coils, the soft scaly lengths massaging his body. Her pussy was clamped firmly around his cock. The heat and wetness were so good he wanted to fuck her.

But he couldn't move. His body wouldn't obey him and her grip on him was total. She held him still, slowly grinding and rotating her hips against him. Using him as her personal sex toy. Her eyelids fluttered as she moaned softly into his neck. He could feel warm, slimy heat oozing over his balls and between his thighs as her juices dripped from her sex.

She pushed his face back into her breasts, encouraging him to suck on them again. He did so without much hesitation. The soft, pillowy flesh felt good in his mouth. Saliva dribbled down his chin as he sucked, Astarte gasping as he put gentle pressure on her nipple. She reached up and pinched the other nipple, making herself moan loudly and arch her back.

Astarte pulled back, her breast slipping out of Aran's mouth. He whined up at her again, clearly unhappy with this turn of events. Astarte smiled down at him, cupping his face in her hands. She leaned down, her lips finding his. They locked together, her tongue gliding inside, fucking his mouth. He sighed into the kiss, relaxing as she held him close. Her mouth slowly traced down to his neck, leaving a trail of saliva. She licked is neck again, sucking on his skin. Her breath was coming in shorter, quicker gasps now.

She writhed against him, sparks of pleasure shooting through her waist as she did so. She drew in a deep, shuddering breath, and bit down. Aran's eyes widened, before drooping again, glazing over as he went limp in her coils. As the warm blood flowed down her throat, Astarte shuddered, her orgasm building. Rippling waves of hot, arousing pleasure flowed through her. She squirmed, biting down harder on his neck, making him yelp with surprise.

She held him tighter as her orgasm ploughed through her, her teeth sinking further into his neck. Her body quivered, his body arching against hers as they climaxed together. She shut her eyes and gulped down his blood, while her own cum oozed over her scales. She could feel a liquid warmth spreading through her as his cum filled her, pouring from his cock in a thick stream. The feeling of his fragile, trembling body in her coils was exquisite. She released his neck, blood dripping from her lips and running down her chin.

She lay there for a few minutes in a blood drunk daze. Her tongue hung out of her mouth, her eyes glazed, a smile splitting her snout. It was only his whimpering that brought her out of her trance. She looked down at him. His breathing was shallow and his skin was pale and clammy.

“Oh dear." She muttered, licking his rather severe neck wound. His flesh began to knit together, the blood that covered his neck and shoulder being reabsorbed.

She rolled her torso off of him, reaching for a small table beside the lounger. She picked up the silver jug that was sat on the table, and tipped it up over his mouth. A thick, wine coloured liquid dripped out into his mouth. Aran swallowed, feeling warmth and strength flowing back into his body almost immediately. He reached up with shaking hands and gripped the jug. He began to drink from it like a man who had been wondering the desert. The colour rushed back to his skin, his face flushing red.

With a loud gasp he finished drinking. He blinked and found himself sitting in a sea of coils, clutching this jug. Astarte took the jug from him and placed it back on the table. She slid her coils up over his shoulders and pulled him back down onto the bed with her.

“How do you feel?" She asked, nuzzling his cheek.

“Better. What was that?" He replied quietly. His throat hurt and his neck ached.

“An… elixir, we feed to the thralls. Everything you mortals need to stay healthy and strong. Plus a few extra ingredients to keep you alive and… improve you a little." Astarte explained, stroking his neck, glancing down at his blood red eyes.

“You'll be joining us now, won't you?" she asked, her voice dripping with honey, “No more reservations?"

“Yes… I want to be with you…" He mumbled, his mind still a fog of euphoria and a little bit of blood loss. Astarte reached over to the table and picked up a leather collar from it. It was wide and quite thick, made from a deep, burgundy leather, complete with gold colour studs and a D-ring, presumably for fastening a leash. Aran felt a sudden urge to wear the collar. It was almost as if he needed to wear it.

Astarte placed the collar round his neck, fastening it closed. The leather was soft and supple, feeling wonderful against his skin.

“You belong to me, and only me." She whispered. He nodded slowly. Of course he did. That went without saying. What other possible choice was there?

“There's a good boy." Astarte said, sliding her hand down his back. Aran moaned as she pushed his still erect cock back inside her pussy.

“We've got a long way to go before I'm even remotely done with you." She hissed.