A Question of Restraint

Heidelberg, Germany, 1905

“What do you see, Varick? Where are you going?”

I put out a restraining hand as the Baron von Richthoven brushed past me and out into the corridor of the first-class carriage of the train. I followed him as he moved toward the steps down to the platform of the Heidelberg rail station. The train had stopped here en route from where we started in Berlin--leaving hurriedly--and where we were headed in Munich. It was a time of retreat, and Varick had chosen his secret hunting chalet near Füssen, the Bavarian Alps, as his place of hiding--and hunting--at least for now. I had accompanied him to try to protect him from himself and because I didn’t have any other choice.

“I wouldn’t suggest leaving the train, Varick,” I called out to him as he was doing just that, his black silk cape billowing around his tall, trim body. “We have no idea how long the train will stand at this station.” I was speaking to his back, as he moved along the platform, his attention riveted over to the shadows of an iron column three tracks down that was helping to hold up the canopy over the concourse separating the end of the tracks from the station building. His gold lion-headed walking stick provided a staccato beat to his progress. He was an imposing man, dark and hawk-like while still being uncannily handsome. He still was in his forties--or so at least it appeared--although looking somewhat younger, and, as I well knew, he clearly was charismatic.

Neither that nor his title had kept him out of trouble in Berlin, however.

Suddenly he stopped dead in his tracks and I almost ran into him. “There. Over there. See him, Otto?” He was pointing with his stick toward where his attention had been focused ever since he stood in our train compartment and gazed out of the window.

“No, Varick. You promised restraint. No more at least until we reach Füssen. You will have more free rein there to do as you wish, as you need.”

The young man--I knew it was the young man who Varick was focused on--was beautiful. His smile was radiant as he looked up into the face of his companion who had pulled him close into an embrace--obviously a farewell embrace. The young man’s curly blond hair was tussled and, in the beams of light filtering through the translucent glass canopy onto the platform, it looked like his head was swathed in a halo. He wasn’t tall, but he was perfectly formed. His clothes were those of a student, albeit an affluent one. Heidelberg was the home of a major university. It was at the end of a term, and it could be reasonably speculated that he was a student returning home and bidding farewell to a lover.

It didn’t take much to assess the lover judgment. Before Varick had pulled up, the two men had been kissing there in the shadows. The taller man was cupping the young blond god’s buttocks with his hands, squeezing them, and, briefly, the blond had raised a leg to hook his knee on the taller man’s hip. If they could have done so without causing a scandal, they would have been fucking.

“Only if he is taking this train,” Varick murmured to me. “That will be a sign that I can have him.”

“You’ve had rather too many signs of late, Varick,” I responded. “That is why we are on this train.”

“You presume too much,” Varick said, suddenly turning to me, his expression changed. Seeing the other Varick in him, I shrank away from him, but he reached out, his hand suddenly clawlike, and pulled me back to him. “You chose to come with me in this exile. You chose to share this with me. Only if he rides the train. Only if he wants it.”

Varick pulled me back to the train and we stood on the platform by the door up into the area separating first-class from second, positioning ourselves on the platform as if we were stretching our legs to break the journey.

My heart both sank and doubled its beat as the young blond man approached. He was taking this train. As he approached, his eyes locked onto those of Varick’s and I groaned in the knowledge that that was all it took. Varick was of a mesmerizing stock, his piercing violet-hued eyes able to capture, disrobe, and ravish the susceptible at will. The young blond’s answering radiant smile marked that he could be possessed. When he turned and mounted the stairs into the train, Varick followed the blond closely from behind. I followed as well, no less a captive of Varick’s stare than anyone else with my proclivities.

At the top of the stairs, the young man turned as to enter the second-class compartment, but Varick laid a hand on his arm and said, in low, melodic voice, “Perhaps you would join us off to the right here. We are in the first-class carriage. You would be more comfortable and there is plenty of room in our compartment. We would enjoy the companionship.” His hand then went to the young man’s buttocks, squeezing one of the well-rounded, firm orbs, and steering him to the right.

The student smiled at Varick, and with a quiet, “Danke”--thanks--“I would appreciate that,” and without so much as a flinch for the hand still palming his buttocks, turned to the right. With that, I knew he was lost. It probably would have been better in the long run if I had accepted that and capitulated to the inevitability of it.

Few of the first-class compartments were occupied--none in proximity to ours. The young man sat in the seat facing the one that Varick and I occupied, and we said little until the conductor had been through, Varick had smoothly paid the difference in the ticket price for the student, and the train had started on its onward journey.

It wasn’t lost on the young man that he was being paid for.

“Perhaps you can pull the curtains to the corridor, Otto, and give us more privacy.”

Varick wasn’t looking at me. His eyes were holding the blue eyes of the beautiful young student with his. The young man didn’t stand a chance. He wasn’t even fighting it--pure innocence and openness. He knew. He just didn’t know the all of it--not by a long shot. After pulling the blinds down on the windows looking out into the corridor, I shrank back in the corner of the seat and watched it all unfold, both horrified and fascinated.

The conversation started with minor chitchat. Varick--the Baron von Richthoven--who had been residing in Berlin, was heading for a vacation at his hunting lodge in the Bavarian Alps. I, Otto Gensler, his lawyer, friend, and, I suppose, his protector, was accompanying him. All so natural and benign. All true, but not nearly as benign as it sounded. “Vacationing” was more like retreating three steps ahead of the mob bearing pitchforks, and the hunting lodge rather than the Castle in Mecklenberg being the goal more because of its remoteness and secrecy than anything else--Varick could have his way longer and with complete privacy in at the remote hunting lodge in Füssen than in Mecklenberg.

“So, you are a student at Heidelberg?” Varick asked.

“Yes,” Stefan Heinz answered, for that was what we’d ascertained was his name. “I am Austrian. My family lives in Saltzburg. That is where I go now. The school term is over.”

“And you are studying art at the university?”

“Yes,” Stefan answered Varick, in surprise. “But how did you--?”

“You are carrying art supplies. I would bet you even model for the classes, don’t you?”

“For extra money, yes. But, again--?”

“You are a beautiful young man. I can’t conceive that your teachers would not take advantage of that--and of you.”

I have no idea how Varick was able to do it--to so quickly strip a young man down with words like this, with the stripping to continue to the emotions and then the physical. But it was his gift--or his curse. I continued to struggle with which one it was. In any event, the young man was walking right into his web.

“Yes, well . . .”

“I’m sure that your teachers take full advantage of you,” Varick honed in.

“I’m not sure what you mean,” Stefan answered, but his blush conveyed otherwise--and the saucy expression he gave indicated that he wouldn’t shrink from the ever-stripping discussion. In my imagination--soon to be reality, I knew--every phrase Varick’s soothing voice caressed the young man with stripped off an article of the man’s emotional shield and then his clothing until the young man was naked, open, and vulnerable. legs spread and bent, pelvis raised to receive the thrust, head turned to the side, throat exposed, vein throbbing. Inevitably, Varick would be inside him, both emotionally and physically.

Why don’t you rise and run? I wondered, the warning screaming through my brain so loud that I’m surprised he didn’t hear it. But of course he didn’t do that. He already was captured in the web. Already the mesmerizing and impossibly handsome, dark and mysterious, baron sitting beside me had his legs open in a wide stance and a hand stroking his crotch, exhibiting a clearly discernible line of his extraordinarily long and thick cock down the inner surface of his thigh. The young man, sitting across from him couldn’t miss that. In fact, his eyes, when they were able to tear away from Varick’s had been flitting to Varick’s crotch even before Varick laid a hand there.

“You lay under men, don’t you? Probably for money to augment your family’s allowance. But I suppose you lay under your art teacher for some thought of love or something like that. I, we”--I lurched a bit at being brought into this scene by him; I had been trying to play the pure voyeur--“saw you in the shadows on the Heidelberg station platform. That was your art teacher, wasn’t it?”

“Yes,” Stefan said. He tried momentarily to look away, and I even saw his muscles--his very nicely formed muscles--tense as if to rise and flee, but he didn’t flee, and he couldn’t keep his eyes from returning to ogling Varick’s crotch. All forms of subterfuge discarded, the baron had his cock out now, slowly stroking it as he spoke in calm, smooth, mesmerizing tones in stark contrast to his angry, upcurved, thick, and long erection.

“You are paid to model in the nude, are you not?”

“Yes,” Stefan answered, his voice breathless.

“And men pay you to cover you.”

A slight pause, and then, almost a whisper, “Yes.”

“But your art teacher doesn’t pay, does he? With your art teacher it’s love.”

Stefan didn’t answer, but his eyes were locked on Varick’s stiff, oversized cock.

“I would not ask for love, Stefan. I will pay. All you have to do is say ‘yes.’”

“Varick,” I muttered.

“All you have to do is say yes.” He ignored both my utterance and my restraining hand on his forearm. “For a start, five marks to see you as the art students see you, in the nude. Say yes to that, Stefan.”

“Yes,” Stefan said, standing and slowly, sensually disrobing. There was no chance of misunderstanding that the student knew where this was leading. Varick wasn’t the only one who sucked in his breath, gave a little gasp, and murmured a “beautiful,” when Stefan was standing there for us, in the nude. I was equally as moved. And it didn’t go unnoticed that the young man was in erection, albeit one that couldn’t compete with Varick’s.

I was in erection too. I wanted him as much as Varick could want him.

“Ten marks to service me and twenty-five to let me fully possess you. Say ‘yes,’ Stefan.”

“Varick,” I muttered again, once more laying a hand on his forearm. “You promised. Restraint at least until safely at the lodge.”

“Shut up, Otto. You want him too. He will agree to it. He wants it,” Varick retorted as he shook my hand off, already metamorphosing from the man into the monster. “Say ‘yes,’ Stefan.” The voice was hard, commanding.

“Yes,” Stefan whispered as he sank between Varick’s spread legs and took the throbbing cock into his mouth.

I don’t know why I bothered to struggle with it. The young man was lost from the moment the baron’s eyes captured his outside the train. He had offered no hint of desired resistance from that point. He turned right rather than left. He didn’t shrink from Varick’s possessive hand on his buttocks. He turned right, fully knowing where it would lead him, already having said “yes” in his mind. He didn’t even flinch when Varick freed his staff and stroked it. He would have done it without the money.

I shouldn’t have cared about--for--him, but I did.

As Stefan’s mouth came off the cock, Varick was holding a silver flask out to him. “Here. Drink from this. It will help you sheath the shaft.”

Varick wasn’t even pretending that the flask didn’t contain a drug. As he swallowed from the flask, the young man’s eyes latched onto Varick’s with a worshipping expression, Stefan didn’t even pretend that he wasn’t going to be penetrated, violated, fully possessed.

While I watched, scrunched down in the seat, my own cock freed and in my hand, Varick fucked the young man in the seat directly across from me. In the first taking there wasn’t much to see. Stefan, sitting, was pressed into the back of the seat, his finely muscled, alabaster legs spread and raised, hugging the baron’s waist, as Varick, his cape covering the two torsos otherwise, hunched between Stefan’s thighs. All other connection was underneath the cape. The undulating of the material of the cape and Stefan’s groans, small cries, and moans provided the evidence that Varick was fucking the young man. Stefan’s toes curled and then released in the rhythm of the fuck. His eyelids fluttered and he grimaced, and he cried out with each thrust. Knowing Varick’s cock, I knew the young man was taking it hard and deep. I also knew that Stefan had a great familiarity with men’s cocks to be able to take it like this at all.

As I watched, Varick’s right hand rose up from inside the cape, cupped the back of Stefan’s head, and pulled the young man’s face in for a deep kiss on the lips. After a breathless eternity of this connection, Varick pulled his face away. The eyes of the two were locked--Stefan’s in dreamy surrender and, I have no doubt, Varick’s in victory. Varick’s hand pulled Stefan’s head into the young man’s left shoulder. Without a skip in the rhythm of the fuck, as evidenced by the undulating of the cape, Varick’s tongue went to the exposed and stretched throat. The tongue momentarily licked at the flesh and protruding vein there and then Varick opened his mouth, showed his fangs, and sank them into the young man’s throat.

Stefan gave a little cry and struggled ineffectively and weakly but settled down quickly to low moans and the gentle sound of suckling as Varick fucked and fed.

“Varick,” I called out softly after a few moments where only the sounds of feeding and sighing could be heard. “Enough. No evidence on the train that would point south.” I wanted to say more. I wanted to say that this one was special--special to me, for reasons I couldn’t verbalize. But I knew that, with the baron, it had to be about him--about his preservation.

He didn’t answer, and he didn’t completely comply, but he changed positions. He switched so that he sat in the seat and Stefan was in his lap, facing me. His legs streamed behind Varick’s hips on either side, his knees pressed into where the seat met the lower back, his calves running up the back of the seat. He was leaning forward, the heels of his hands on Varick’s knees, telling me that he hadn’t lost all strength in his body . . . yet. Varick was holding the young man’s waist and pulling his passage up and down on the cock. Stefan’s face was an exhibition of dreamy ecstasy.

I saw no harm in Varick just fucking the young man and having a taste, so I settled back in my seat and watched, my own cock in my hand, my thoughts vicariously of me being in Varick’s position in the fuck.

Varick stopped manipulating the young man’s body when Stefan took over the rise and fall on his own. One of Varick’s hands palmed Stefan’s chest and pulled the young man back into Varick’s chest. The other cupped his chin and turned Stefan’s face to his for a kiss.

I almost missed that Varick had gone back to feeding at the young man’s throat--and I would have missed it if I hadn’t noticed that Stefan was losing his strength. His hands had slipped off Varick’s knees and he was just hanging there. I could barely see the pupils of his eyes for the whites. The expression of ecstasy was still there, but the look was glazed, fading. I knew it was just a matter of time now.

But I waited for Varick to have his moment, his release, coming in a little cry of his own, a jerk of both his and Stefan’s bodies, a gasp from Stefan and look of wonder floating across the young man’s face. I knew it wouldn’t just be a coming; it would be a warm flood of complete possession and an afterglow of peace--eternal peace for some.

Not for Stefan, though, I hoped.

“More than enough, Varick,” I called out. “Not here. Not now. How would we evade discovery?”

“Oh, I’m so sorry, Otto,” the baron side, icily as he took his mouth away from Stefan’s throat. But the important thing is that he had taken his mouth away. “I am being piggish again, aren’t I? Here, you may have a taste. Enjoy.”

He pulled Stefan off him and laid the young man down along the seat, as he rose, readjusted his clothing and returned and sat next to me on the seat. “I said enjoy yourself,” he said, turning to me, his eyes flashing and the tone of his voice one of irritation. I knew it wasn’t a polite offer or a request--that it was a goad and command, that he was reminding me that I was no better, no different, than he was.

“I just think--” I started to say, not really knowing what I thought--or why I thought it.

“No, no. You are quite right. This one is worthy of taking home with us. But taste. By all means taste.”

I moved across the carriage and gathered Stefan up in my arms as I sat in the seat. I was cooing to him and whispering sweet nothings. I had no idea why I was doing that. I had no realization that I was as lost to Stefan as Stefan now was to Varick. I rocked him back and forth as he continued to moan softly. As he rebuilt strength, he raised his arms, embracing my neck. Our faces were close together and the kiss came naturally. His hand going to my still-exposed cock also seemed natural.

“Take me. I want you to fuck me too,” he murmured.

How could I refuse? I turned his body on the seat so that he was lying on his back, his head and shoulders raised on the thick pillows provided with the compartment. Winding an arm under his waist, I lifted his pelvis and, positioned myself, kneeling, between his thighs, I slid easily inside him. He gave a little jerk, but took me easily. He was still dilated from Varick’s thick shaft, wet deep inside from Varick’s cum. It was all natural, easy. I pumped him slowly. In, out; in, out. I luxuriated in how easily and fully he opened to me, taking me deep inside his soft, sweet core.

We continued kissing until I turned his head, exposing and stretching his neck. All very natural, as was my licking his throat and finding the throbbing vein, sinking my fangs into it, and beginning to feed.

I understood restraint, though. I released my seed quickly and immediately stopped suckling at his neck. I only gave myself a taste of him. In that taste, though, I was even more lost to him than I had been before. He was a sweet fuck. He opened completely, trustingly, to me, and I took him tenderly, appreciatively, but fully, steely hard and throbbing skin rubbing against tender channel walls, giving and receiving loving attention. As open as he was, he pulled me in deep--in keeping with our kind, I was nearly as hugely endowed as Varick was. His passage muscles caressed and undulated over my shaft, denying me nothing in girth or length. I indeed, was horse hung. Still, Varick was a monster to my merely especially gifted. If he accepted Varick like this and Varick was in one of his moods, I knew he’d tear the young man asunder with the massiveness of his endowment. Varick, in fact, was given to such moods, which was a primary reason we were escaping south. I couldn’t help feeling protective of the young beauty.

From across the carriage, Varick emitted a wicked laugh. “Weren’t you the one who told me not to finish him, Otto?”

That’s all it took, but I’m not sure what I would have done if Varick hadn’t mocked me so. I pulled off Stefan my body and arranged him carefully on the seat. He was smiling a beatific smile, all drugged innocence and naivety.

“Come,” Varick commanded, and I turned and stood in front of him at the other side of the compartment as he unbuckled my belt and dropped my trousers and underdrawers. He took my balls in his hand and squeezed and distended them as he run his tongue down one side of my shaft and up the other before taking me in his mouth. I took his head in my hands, surrendered all to him, and groaned.

He laid me on my back on the seat and pushed his knees under my buttocks. I grunted and groaned as he entered me and began to pump me, deep, deep in the soft core of me. He took my mouth in his and invaded with his tongue. When we disengaged, I turned my head and stretched my throat for him and he fed. He didn’t feed for long. It was more a reaffirmation of master and submissive relationship. I had grown too old to provide the sweetness and freshness of blood he craved.

And I was too important to him alive--at least I’d always thought so. But he also needed me under his control, and he knew how to achieve that. Unbuttoning my shirt, he brushed the sides open and found a nipple with his thumb and forefinger, teasing it hard. He moved his mouth down to the nipple, sliced his teeth in at either side of the aureole, and began to suckle blood. His cock pumped on inside me, deeper, harder, faster. I knew that the feeding would--must--stop with his quickly approaching ejaculation. Still I felt myself fading away--into a land of not caring, one of pure, sensual pleasure. Someday I would cross over--and I would not care. His flow came in a flood of peace, matching my own. He continued to feed.

He clearly was irritated that his pleasure with Stefan had been interrupted. He understood why it had been and had to be, but it still angered him and he had to take it out on someone. This wasn’t the first time that it had been me.

I felt myself weakening, my ears buzzing. Clearly still angry with me, Varick was taking me beyond the normal limits. I should have been alarmed, but such was the effect of the feeding that I just didn’t care, that I set the rhythm of my ebbing life to suckling sensation of his feeding. I was in a haze when he left me. I watched, interested but no longer concerned, as he moved back to Stefan and lay on top of him on the opposite bench. Stefan spread his legs and hooked his heels on Varick’s thighs, welcoming him in. The young man sighed, his hands going to Varick’s shoulder blades, his head lolling over to one side to accept Varick’s dripping fangs, as Varick’s buttocks once more started undulating into the rhythm of the fuck.

* * * *

Munich to Füssen

I lay on a padded, but still uncomfortable table, Dr. Pilser standing over me wearing a white coat. He was looking furtively behind him beyond where a white curtain was half pulled between my table and the other side, where someone else was lying on another table. Varick was standing beyond that table. Pilser obviously thought I was still out, because he had one of my legs bent, and he was fingering my ass, the finger being up inside my channel. He was fondling my cock and balls with his other hand.

I was naked and a needle at the end of tube lead was inserted into the crook of one of my arms, with blood dripping into me from a bag hanging on a stand next to the bed. It’s the first time I had required a transfusion. We’d been here before, in Dr. Pilser’s surgery in Füssen, for other young men Varick wanted to spin out a little longer when we were staying at the hunting lodge. But this was the first time I was here to receive a transfusion myself. Varick had never gone as far with me as he had done on the train from Heidelberg to Munich. It didn’t escape me that our relationship was entering dangerous ground. I could no longer be sure that his need for my support would restrain him.

When we’d left the train in Munich Varick had barely been able to help both Stefan and me onto the platform. Seeing us struggling, a conductor had blown his whistle and porters had come running. So had Pietr, the lodge’s driver and, fortunately for him, too old and grizzled to be of special interest to Varick, who jumped down from the carriage and hobbled to us.

“No, no, just a bit of motion sickness, both of them,” the baron had said, his voice commanding enough to bring the panic to an end. “Just help get them to the carriage. They will be fine.”

I was more fine than Stefan was, although the sloppy smile on his face seemed to calm the concern that he was in pain. Neither one of us was in pain, really. Both of us had ceased our journey just this side of paradise, thanks to Varick’s expert cocking. Both of us would have willingly crossed over for just that little extra slice of paradise. I remember muttering. “Stefan. To the hospital. Here in Munich,” and Varick agreeing with me as we both were handed up into the carriage.

But of course Varick didn’t have the carriage go to the hospital in Munich. He told Pietr to drive on to Füssen. Varick had a doctor in Füssen, Dr. Pilser, who could keep his secrets and who was expert in the new technique of blood transfusions. We had used him before. He was happy as long as Varick paid him well--and not just in money. He was given sexual access to those he was transfusing. I had never before thought that this would include me--but the doctor’s probing fingers up my ass and hand on my cock told me that it did.

The baron had fucked Stefan again en route from Munich to Füssen. He had restrained himself from taking any more of the young man’s blood, but that didn’t stop him from crouching between Stefan’s raised and spread legs, the young man’s knees hooked on Varick’s hips and his hands clutching the baron’s biceps, his fists opening and closing to the rhythm of the thrusts. The young man obviously was aware enough to enjoy the cock working deep inside his ass. Varick’s cape covered their torsos and undulated with the fuck. Stefan’s head was turned and he was watching me, his eyes seeming to gleam in the darkness of the carriage, his gaze one of ecstasy and triumph that it was him and not me that Varick was fucking.

The young man wasn’t unaware of the dynamics playing here. He was accepting the dire risk he was taking. Still, I don’t think he was fully aware where this was headed. Like most young men his age, he believed himself indestructible--and he placed a high value on personal pleasure. To him, this was high adventure and never-before-experienced ecstasy. He wouldn’t be the first young man to learn that it went terminally beyond that.

I lay across the opposite seat, barely conscious, my mind in a swirling haze, straining to feel the next breath that came to me in a low pant. Unlike Stefan, I knew where this ultimately was headed.

The baron must have realized he had taken Stefan to the brink again, because when we reached Füssen and Dr. Pilser had been raised to return to his surgery and give transfusions to both Stefan and me, it was me who Varick obviously had told Pilser he could fuck to partially cover the bill. I realized that Stefan was the one lying on the other table, beyond the half-pulled curtain. I groaned as the doctor lifted and bent my other leg, spreading them apart. He realized then that I had come around from the anesthetic he’d given me before hooking me up to the transfusion bag. I saw that the bag held a full unit of blood, which I had assumed I didn’t need, although Stefan probably did.

I found out then, though, why I was given a full unit. Pilser came up on the table, placed a thick pillow under the small of my back to raise my pelvis, and penetrated me with his cock, holding just inside me until I had adjusted to him and then moving deeper. He was thick and throbbing. I groaned with mixed feelings--fear of yet another taxing stretch inside me that night and wanting the cock moving inside me, challenging my channel walls to take him. He was a well-built man with a strong cock. He, in fact, was built too large to be a mere mortal. Varick, in his jealousy, rarely shared me--certainly not with another like us.

Pilser moved his torso over mine, stiff arming me on either side of my chest. As he sank inside me and started to pump me with his cock, he grabbed the hair on my head with one hand, pulled my head to the side, and stretched out my neck. I saw the flash of his fangs as he lowered his mouth to my neck, pierced the vein, and started to feed.

It came as a shock and surprise, but there was no reason why it should have. My body was just a way station now for the blood pumping from the bag into my arm. It should have worried and depressed me, but it didn’t. I felt alive, electric, and, arching my back and raising my pelvis to him, began to move with him in the dance of the ultimate fuck. Sex with another one such as us was pleasure on a much higher plane than in coupling with a mere mortal.

I moved with Pilser in the fuck, taking him deep and soft and open, my deep channel walls going spongy and shimmering. Both he and I were concentrating on gauging the thrusts of his cock--and my counterthrusts--with the pulse of the feeding at my throat. We came together in a mutual cry and release.

“Otto here will be fine in a couple of hours,” I heard Pilser telling Varick as I was dressing. “The other young man should rest from it for a few days. Three days, I recommend. That is unless--”

“Thank you, Herr Doctor,” Varick said, handing over cash, and then we were on our way.

* * * *

“You aren’t going to end it with Stefan?” I asked. “You wouldn’t have had him given a transfusion if you were going to end it--at least anytime soon.”

“He has captivated me,” the baron answered. We were sitting in the dining room of the hunting lodge, a chalet pressed into the mountainside high up the mountain, at the tree line, and made out of huge logs. We were smoking and drinking brandy. Varick had put Stefan in his bed, and Stefan had immediately plunged into sleep. Erik, a new servant, young, blond, and more pretty than handsome, had served us and departed back to the kitchen. From the looks Varick gave him, I knew Erik wouldn’t be working here for long--not that he’d be fired or quit--which was a pity, because the young man was giving me looks of unmistakable want. I would have to tell the butler to start looking for Erik’s replacement immediately. I did not pity the butler, though. He had selected Erik knowing that such a lad would soon need to be replaced.

“I don’t understand how I can keep him and use him at the same time,” Varick said.

“We’re talking about Stefan now?” I asked. Erik had just left the room and Varick’s eyes were still on the door through which the young man had exited.

“Yes, Stefan. I have no such quandaries about the new servant. He is pretty but not worth a transfusion, I don’t think. He is one evening’s pleasure at best--just an hour or more of sport. I will use and discard him. If you want him, use him soon, use him gently, and don’t spoil my sport with him.”

“There is only one way to preserve Stefan through the next three days,” I said, changing a discussion that I found distasteful. We weren’t all as callous and self-centered as Varick was. Some of us answered the question of restraint with more humanity. “And I’m sure you know what the way is of preserving Stefan. I know you can’t keep away from him. He’s in your bed now. But you can give him time to recover.”

“You mean the mask, don’t you?”

“Yes,” I answered. “You can fuck him without the need to drain him. Is he worth the discomfort of the mask?” I held my breath. I couldn’t tell Varick I had feelings for Stefan as well and was trying to do what I could to keep him alive. Saving him would have to be Varick’s idea.

“Yes. The mask is in my office. You will hold the key for the next three nights?”

“Yes,” I said. And longer than that, if I am able.

“I will go get it. I am satiated for tonight, and I don’t need it every night. But that third night . . .”

“I will see to that,” I answered.

“You are none too ready for it again, either,” he said.

I was touched that he cared even that much. The last time had been touch and go. I wasn’t sure how much longer he could maintain restraint even with me.

“I have another idea,” I said.

Before he went up to bed, we had fashioned the leather mask over his face that had a lock on it. I kept the key. The mask allowed him to breathe, but he could not bring his fangs to a position to draw blood.

He went up to bed and I stayed, waiting for Erik to come clear the table. When he did, I returned the look of want that he gave me. I peeked into Varick’s bed chamber as I was going to my own. Stefan was awake and on his back, his legs bent and spread, his hands clutching Varick’s bare buttocks, as the baron lay between the young blond student’s thighs and fucked him in long strokes. Stefan turned his face toward the door and gave me a look of triumph. Varick was wearing the mask.

If only you knew, Stefan, what I am trying to do for you. If only you knew.

Erik came to me later in the night. I was too tired to take him properly, but I did want to have him before Varick got to him. I lay on my back, with Erik straddling my hips and riding my cock. When I felt myself close, I raised my chest to his, embraced him, took him into a kiss. I ran my fingers into his curly black hair and pulled his head to the side. I was feeding on him--but just a taste--when I bathed him deep with my cum. He was delicate and had swooned already. But he was still in usable condition. And he had been taken across that divide. The feeding and the fully possessing size of me had given him pleasures such as he’d never experienced before. He would be open to more of the same now.

I held him close to me through the night and felt strong enough in the morning to put him on all fours and fuck him hard, but I didn’t feed. He hadn’t remembered all that had happened earlier in the night other than that there were higher-plane pleasures to be had from taking a man who was inhumanly big and who suckled at the throat.

Varick was irritable the next day, but manageable. Stefan did not leave Varick’s bed. For me, it was only a matter of keeping Varick from returning to his bed chamber during the day, while he was free of the mask.

The following night when Erik came to me--voluntarily--I fucked him royally and feasted on his blood. He now was aware of what was happening to him and fully made the connection of the fucking and feeding as necessary to attain the pleasure he now had to have. I had slowly brought him into it, so that, fearlessly now, he was seeking rather than shrinking away from the sensual act of giving me more than his channel. Becoming a willing blood giver was a conditioning process that enticed with incredible sexual pleasure. Man will take almost any risk to be sexually satiated in a way and to a degree he never has been before. And, like any submissive, he delighted in being able to sheath a cock of mammoth proportions.

The act of sucking blood while fucking a man with an oversized cock brought the man into a realm of euphoria and sensuality that was an elixir to him, leaving him wanting more and more intense sucking and fucking. Erik had no idea how draining it could be, and I maintained restraint, not leaving him much weakened, and whatever weakness he felt was taken as a glorious pleasure brought on by the act. But after that first feeding he still came to me--just as knowing the dangers I willing went to Varick. He would want more and more of it before any realization set in of what it was taking away from him. The big-cocked sex that accompanied it was more intense than anything he would have experienced before. And even once he knew all, he would no longer care.

I knew all of this, as I was trapped by it myself, saved only by Varick’s willingness to show restraint with me. Once we were locked together, with him suckling at my neck and his monster cock moving inside me, I was lost to him. I was one with him, willing to melt into him and disappear altogether. He could go as far as he wanted, and I would welcome it and seek new heights in the experience even to the end. The coordinated rhythm of the suckling and draining at the throat--or crook of the arm or armpit, or, as Varick’s favorite with me, at the nipple--and the deep pump of the all-possessing cock merged into an enveloping symphony that was unlike any other sensation or pleasure.

As I had found, it enhanced the experience for the taker to rise into the same realm. The infusion of the blood was electric and powering. The senses and vitality soared. One’s cock thickened and lengthened to almost unmanageable proportions. Stamina was heightened. The coordinated rhythm of the suck and fuck was like composing a symphony. One’s orgasm rolled on and on, the cum produced and released was more prodigious. One felt more alive and sensual than ever before. The same unity of the two bodies and the melting of the giver into the taker that was experienced by the giver was also experienced by the taker, who wanted to possess and completely subsume his prey. One had to fight for restraint. Varick was the master in all realms but this--the more drawn into the need of this special world, the less restraint he was able to command. It was why we had had to leave Berlin.

The next morning I took the mask off Varick again. He was in a foul mood, as was, I thought, natural and stomped around in high dungeon all day. Stefan didn’t appear outside Varick’s bed chamber. Erik took his meals to him. I thought that was wise. Varick was fucking Stefan and he hadn’t recovered all of his strength yet. I shuddered at the thought of what Varick would do with him once the young man had fully recovered.

Varick was pacing back and forth by supper time, roaring at everything and everyone. I had thought to wait on my plan for as long as possible, but this seemed to be as long as he would hold off. More than once he told me he was going up to his bed chamber but that he didn’t want to wear the mask. Each time I found a diversion for him. I knew that such a trip would be the end for Stefan.

The last diversion was Erik. When he delivered the after-supper smokes and brandy, I drew Varick’s attention to the young man as he was departing.

“You won’t need the mask when you sleep with Stefan tonight if you are fully satiated for the night,” I said. “I have had Erik already. His blood is sweet. His channel is sweet as well. He is expendable, and you can take him the distance. I really recommend--”

“Call him in,” Varick growled.

“Let us finish our smokes and brandy first,” I said. “Then I will fetch him and leave you two alone. I suggest one of the bed chambers on the first floor.” I didn’t want Varick going anywhere near his own bed chamber and Stefan when he was in this condition.

I waited for several minutes after sending Erik into Varick. When I checked to see if they were gone from the dining room, they weren’t. Varick was fucking him right there on the dining table. Erik was bent over the table, hands pressed into the surface of the table. Varick was covering him from behind, one arm embracing the young man’s waist and the other hand cupping Erik’s chin. Varick was taking him in long strokes from behind. I watched until I saw Varick pull Erik’s head to the side to stretch his neck, and sink his fangs into the young servant’s throat. Erik emitted a long, drawn-out sigh as Varick commenced to feed.

Some minutes later, I checked again. Erik was no longer supporting himself. Varick was holding his body up. Erik’s head was turned toward me. There was a look of serenity and ecstasy on his face. Varick was still fucking him and feeding on him. The sucking sounds were long, fierce, draining. Erik’s supreme pleasure was evident not only from the angelic expression on his face but also from his deep moans and mewings. Weak as he was, he still was able to raise an arm, the fingers of his hand running through Varick’s luxurious black curls, and holding Varick’s head into his throat. I regretted the waste, of course. But the young man had been brought across the divide. He submitted to this willingly. He would never have known the pleasure he was receiving now if he had lived a long life, and, having gotten a taste of it from me, he would not ever have been fully satisfied in a long life without being used by Varick. He was fully satisfied in this moment.

Sometime later, I checked again. Erik was on his back on the table, one leg dangling down toward the floor and the other one being held raised and spread by Varick. The baron, nearly lying on top of Erik was still stroking with his cock and feeding on one of Erik’s nipples. The young man looked drained. His eyes were open but glazed. A beatific smile still was formed on his lips.

When I next checked, Varick was gone, presumably to bed, with Stefan, but his blood lust fully satiated. I took up the drained body of Erik, slight and light in death, which had sunk under the dining table, and took it to the servants’ wing, laying him in his bed. I closed his eyes with a brush of my hand, whispered an apology, and went to bed.

Everything was fine through the next day with Varick, although I spent the entire day trying to figure out how to keep him from declaring Stefan fit and then not being able to control himself with the young man. Varick seemed to be able to practice less restraint with each passing day.

In the end, I did what I had to do. Right after supper, I enticed him to my room and into fucking and feeding on me. In truth I needed it myself from him. But, as I half feared, as he had done in the train carriage, he was passing the normal limits of our coupling and I was growing very weak. I only narrowly managed to roll out from underneath him and to lock him in my room for the night.

The next day, he wasn’t happy, but he recognized that he was losing control. He agreed to wear the mask again.

I sat for hours that night before going up to my bed. I was worried about the baron and his increased lack of restraint. I also was worried about Stefan. I schemed on how to get him out of this situation. I realized that now I would never have him, but that was secondary to finding a way to save him.

Thankfully, the night went well in Varick’s bed chamber and the glimmer of a hope for Stefan came the next day. He was well enough to be up and about, and I took him into Füssen with me to shop for clothes for him. I sent him back to the lodge with Pietr, the carriage driver, who was to return later for me as I went in to the offices of the law firm that I was connected with when I was in Füssen.

I was checking the news services for word on Berlin and whether the furor over the baron’s activities there had been settling down, when a young man, another lawyer, I was told, by the name of Dieter Speidel, was shown in to see me. He was a beautiful young man, not yet thirty, a good five years younger than I was. Blond and blue-eyed, he had a strikingly handsome face even when it was set in a look of concern, as it was now. Still, when our eyes first met, he was able to give me a radiant smile of mutual understanding, mutual interest. My eyes slid down his expensively clothed, fine torso to his crotch. He clearly was gifted there. I would want to lie under him rather than on him.

“Yes, I understand you asked for me?” I said, surprised. Who here would be asking for me?

“Yes, I work in Saltzburg, Austria,” the man said. “I have been trying to trace a missing son of the family Heinz that resides there. His name is Stefan. He is a student at Heidelberg University, but he hasn’t returned home from the end of the school year yet. He was last seen getting off the train in Munich. He was in the company of Baron Varick von Richthoven. I understand you represent the baron.”

My blood--such as I still had--ran cold. “Yes, I represent the baron, but I haven’t seen him in--”

“A Doctor Pilser here in Füssen says he saw the baron a couple of days ago. And the young man who was with him fits the description of Stefan Heinz. In fact, I have been told that a young man of Stefan’s description was seen in the stores here with you earlier in the day.”

He moved closer to me and put a hand on my forearm. I felt it burning there, but I could not acknowledge it--or my strong attraction to him. I couldn’t withstand the hold of his eyes on mine either and looked away.

“I was helping my nephew dress for the university this afternoon, and I believe the baron is in Munich,” I said. “I will, of course, contact him immediately and see if I can shed some light on this. Where are you staying in Füssen?”

As he gave me his contact information, my mind was racing on what I needed to do. I kept pushing the need to strangle Doctor Pilser into the background as not of the highest priority.

“Ah, well, it must have been some other young man then,” Speidel said. “Speaking of my hotel, though, there is a café there and I haven’t had afternoon tea yet. Have you had yours? Perhaps you would care to join me. I find you . . . interesting.”

I thought it was perhaps too easy to deflect him, and, that proved to be true.

I was upright, but kneeling on the bed in Dieter’s hotel room. He was embracing me from behind, an arm around my waist, a hand cupping my chin. I could feet his heart beating against my back--the rhythm was fast, but in synch with the rhythm of my own. He had a fine cock. It was deep up inside me and exploring, caressing the walls of my passage deep in the soft core of me. My passage was responding, the muscles of the walls undulating over the thick, long shaft.

We came out of a kiss, and I cried out in passionate welcome--wanting--as the hand cupping my chin pulled my head over to the side and he sank his fangs into my throat. The cock inside me expanded and lengthened as he fed.

My sensations exploded into a new world of pleasure and want. My channel walls grasped his cock, pulling it deeper inside me as his feeding enhanced his size and length and milked it to an orgasm that started in a gush and then just rolled on and on, as my flow started as well. I felt the throbbing suckling at my throat and the continued expanding of his cock inside me, making new demands in opening my passage, which responded immediately. He started to pump me, demanding and deep, cum spinning out of him and deep up into my intestines, matching the thrusts to the suck at my neck. Even as I felt myself weakening, I was melting into him, becoming one with him, wanting to disappeared into his body. I was gripping his head with one hand, pressing it into my throat, and working my cock with the other.

He was a master. I had thought there was only one--Varick. But this man was Varick’s equal. I was one with him. I could deny him nothing.

Colored lights flashed before my eyes, my focus of attention raced between what was churning inside me and what was sucking at my neck. My strength was flowing out of me and I collapsed within his embrace, fully open and giving to Dieter, fully dependent on him for support--for very life itself. I cried out in ultimate pleasure as his ejaculation increased in strength, triggering mine to do so as well, both of them rolling on and on into an eternity of ecstasy, the mixing of our fluids flowing out of me and puddling on and soaking into the bedspread.

I should have known from the beginning, from the first look we exchanged, from the size of his cock snaking down his thigh inside his tight trousers. Dieter was one of us.

He murmured into my ear as we cooled down, holding position, and I answered I know not what. Buzzing was still pounding in my ears. My heart was racing and I was gauging it coming back into a realm of safety, not being sure that it ever would, not caring if it didn’t. I was weak and just collapsed on the bed when he released my body and rose back onto his feet. In my weakness I drifted off to a fretful sleep. When I woke, feeling the strength returning to me--knowing he had used restraint and left me in functional condition--he was gone from the hotel room.

I don’t know what I told him. I didn’t want to think of what I might have told him. But I knew that Varick was in danger--that we needed to move on, and we needed to do so quickly. His match was nearby and was seeking Stefan.

I spent a couple of hours making arrangements for getting the three of us--Varick, Stefan, and me--away and heading to somewhere safe. The complication was that somewhere safe for Stefan wasn’t with Varick and me. I had to make separate arrangements to pull him away from the baron without Varick suspecting I was doing so--and Stefan as well, for that matter--and getting him delivered to his lawyer, Speidel, without him being able to trace it back to me or the baron.

But would he, in fact, be safe with Speidel? Did Speidel even represent Stefan’s family, or was he another, competing Varick, who had sniffed the air, realized what a prize Stefan was, and wanted the young man for himself. Speidel was one of us. The attraction of Stefan for Speidel couldn’t be any less than it had been for the baron or for me. And Stefan couldn’t be trusted now, either. Now that he’d had Varick and me, he would crave what Speidel could give him. I couldn’t deal with that question now. There was too much need to separate the young man from Varick and get Varick to a place of safety and at a distance from Stefan’s siren charms.

I succeeded in making the arrangements that needed to be made, called Pietr in from the biergarten he’d been waiting in, and had him take me up to the hunting lodge.

Dieter Speidel’s body was on the staircase, his trousers ripped off him, his body drained of blood. So, in the end, he was no match for Varick. I rushed on up the stairs to Varick’s bed chamber. He was on top of Stefan on the bed, his cock buried inside Stefan, his fangs dripping in blood. Stefan was laying under him, arms and legs akimbo; mouth slack open, although in a smile; eyes glazed over. He clearly was gone.

I lost control of myself. Everything I had done, had tried to do, had gone for naught. There were lit candles in the chamber. I grabbed one up in my hands and stumbled around the room, lighting the curtains on the windows and the drapes on the poster bed. Varick lay there, embracing Stefan’s body and looking at me with dull eyes. He was drunk on the blood of two men. If he had moved at all, it would have had to be sluggishly. But he was in a stupor of ultimate pleasure. He grinned at me, fangs dripping in blood, oblivious to the flames engulfing the room.

Exiting the chamber, I grabbed the key out of the lock, slammed the door shut, and locked Varick in the burning room. I ran down the staircase, yelling “Fire! Get out of the house now!” and cleared all of the servants out of the lodge. We stood there, well away from the log chalet, and watched it burn to the ground. Ashes to ashes.

* * * *

Munich Train Station

A week later, having settled the baron’s estate as best as I could--with the understanding that a cousin of his, Ludwig, would take over the title and assets, I was sitting in a first-class carriage of a train leaving Munich en route to Berlin. I had not been connected to Varick’s activities that had caused him to escape Berlin, I had ascertained. So, it was clear for me to return to the city.

I turned toward the door into the carriage to see that there was a young man, a beautiful blond young man standing there.

“Excuse me,” he said. “I was told I should come to this compartment. But if--”

“No, that’s quite all right,” I said. “Please come in. And perhaps lower the shades to the corridor. We’ll have more privacy that way.” He was delectable. He also was smiling at me in the way that I understood indicated a special interest. I was ready for a cleansing of the palate, a new beginning, a making my own way.

“How far are you going?” I asked.

“To Heidelberg,” he said. “My name is Alfred. I am a student at the university there. Forgive me for saying it, but you are a strikingly handsome man. You remind me of one of my professors. My professor and I are very close. Very.” He was smiling the special smile at me from the seat across from me. This compartment was narrower than the one on the train had been coming here. Our knees were touching. He used his to spread my thighs a bit. One of his hands dropped to his crotch. All of these were signs I well recognized.

“Excuse me, but I don’t actually have a ticket for the train--and I don’t have the money for the fare. Perhaps--”

“I am happy to cover the cost,” I answered, “in exchange for the companionship.”

“I feel that this is going to be a very interesting trip,” he said.

I readily agreed with him. His eyes were on my crotch. They had gone large as he realization of how big I was built.

I was crouched over him in his seat, with the carriage rocking gently back and forth in its movement on the tracks, helping to set the rhythm of the fuck. His bare knees were hooked on my hips, his trousers and underdrawers puddled on the floor between the seats, and his hands were cupping my buttocks, as, under my black cape covering our bodies, I fucked him. At first, he was panting hard and moaning deeply, fighting to accommodate my expanding cock, but once my fangs had sliced into his throat, he slowly quieted down and his channel went soft and slack, yielding to my thickening and lengthening. The slight sucking noise of my cock working inside him coincided with the sound of me gently feeding at his throat. He was sighing in the deep pleasure I was bringing him.

I had just set into coordinating the rhythm of the suck and fuck when the door to the corridor, which I was sure I had locked, slid open and there, standing in the doorway was . . . Varick.

“I believe it will be a very interesting trip indeed,” he said, as he entered the compartment, slid the door closed behind him, and shot home the lock again. “May I join you two? My name is Ludwig--now--Baron von Richthoven. I met Alfred here on the platform. He said he would lay under you and me on the trip to Heidelberg for twenty marks apiece. I see you have settled in ahead of me. No problem. Use him gently. I will be the finisher.”

He turned and looked at me. But of course I was speechless. His smile showed that he had distended his fangs.

“But first perhaps we should talk about the burning of my hunting lodge.”

He settled in behind and on top of me, gently coaxed my head over to the side, and sank his fangs into my throat. I felt him push my cape up my back and, with a sigh of resignation, I raised my pelvis to accord his cock entry into my channel.