Taste me, Take me............Free Read

Taste me. Take me

1890 Red Hook Brooklyn Betsy Whitehouse tried to push down her over abundant breasts in the extremely tight fitting bodice of her dress. The dress was scarlet, so beautiful that Betsy almost felt regal. Almost was the key word here. Betsy was born on the wrong side of the tracks, in Hell’s kitchen, her mother dead of an overdose of Laudanum and Opium at the age of seventeen. Betsy was raised by Lesbian two hookers, who with the grace of God managed to stay off the drugs. They worked together as a team, luring men to their rooms, knocking them out and robbing them.  
Because of their unusual little charade, they moved around a great deal, avoiding arrests.

When Betsy turned eighteen the whore house they all resided in called for her two keepers to pay up what they owed.  They didn’t have what the Madame demanded of them. Betsy became payment. Tonight she was being inducted into Madame Pompadour’s troupe. Betsy was a virgin, and she was being sold to the highest bidder, her virginity the prize.
Gregory Hayworth would be bidding. He wanted the young beauty. He’d wanted her since he’d seen her, then she was nothing more than a hand maiden to the top whores in the house. He became excited, his gums began to ache. His pupils throbbed in his skull wanting to transition, their true crimson color begging to appear.

He checkrd his hands, the nails were noticeably longer. He really had to take control, changing now in a room full of superstitious humans would cause a riot and he’d never get his hands on Betsy. Fools, all of them, what would happen if Betsy fell into the wrong hands? He snickered, not that his were the right ones. Tonight he’d taste Betsy in more than one way. Tonight he’d give her the greatest gift, would she want it?

Gregory Hayworth was a vampire, an elite creature, rich and powerful even among his own kind. So many would sell their soul to lay with him for an eternity, Betsy Armstrong, was the female he wanted.   He turned to the whore beside him. His dark eyes seared into her. His handsome veneer made every whore swoon, his dark hair, perfect pale skin and tall muscular frame overshadowed most of their clientele.
“My dear, would you be so kind as to refresh my wine?” He smiled displaying a set of perfect white teeth.
“Yes of course, Mr. Hayworth.” She scurried with his empty glass to refill it.
“Henry, ready my carriage, this won’t take long Betsy will be coming home with us tonight.”
“Yes master.”
The curtain rose and the heavily made up Madame appeared. She walked to the center of the small stage and silence fell.
“I am here to start the bidding gentleman oh and yes Ladies.”
The young whore returned with a glass of dark rich wine. He summonded her away intent on the sight before him. And what a sight she was. Dressed in white lace, her black hair lose and flowing over her full perfect breasts. She was an amazing beauty, and undead, she'd rival the most perfect of them all. He could take in the aroma of her from where he sat. Again the pressure of his fangs against his gums was sweet, provocative and delicious. Tonight he'd feast upon her blood and her body. She'd know no greater pleasure. His cock would break through her virgin barrier and he'd own her. The taste of virgin blood was like no other. He'd lick at her pussy and savor the gift bestowed upon him. He snickered again, what evil joined let no man put assunder. The snap of his fangs went undetected. His hands tightened around the arms of the chair he sat in and his cock ached. Fire raced through his veins, and the true nature of the creature that he was began to take hold. But because he possessed great powers, he pushed back his transitioning. He'd begin his bidding.

The Madame looked upon the crowd and asked for the first bid. "To start I'd ask one hundred dollars." There was a noticable undercurrent to the crowd, you could hear the bidders readying their money. But from the back of the crowd a a familiar voice, one that many men wouldn't cross.
"One thousand." Dead silence prevailed.
The Madame peered out across the crowd and her eyes met his. "Do I hear one thousand one dollar?'
"One thousand five hundred," another male voice said loudly.
"Two thousand," came the retort.
"Two thousand five hundred," said a female voice. It was Heddy VanDysler, Madame to one of the finest whore houses in Broolyn.
Gregory looked her way and she smiled at him. "Five thousand dollars," he said without any further  hesitation.
The crowed ooed and ahed as they heard his bid. The heavily madeup well to do Madame smiled at him.
"Six thousand," she cooed  looking directly at Besty.
His grin now became widened and he looked straight ahead. "Ten thousand dollars."
Heddy stood and curtseied to him then bowed her head in resignation. You could hear the rustling of skirts, peticoats and male top hats. Voices lowered and then silence. Nothing. Only silence. 
"Then sold to Mr. Hayworth."
Betsy peered intot he crowd and that's when she saw him. He was more than handsome, the man was almost perfect. When he stood, he was tall, dark hair, intense eyes and classic good looks. Then why was she trembling? She was well aware that as she was old enough this would be her fate, but she never expected to be bid upon by anyone of his calibur. He had money and was refined. From what she could see there wasn't one hair on his head out of place. Again the thought made her shiver, maybe he was too perfect?

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