The Three 'F's

Chapter 2: Siring Fifteen minutes later Adrian was over a mile away from the school. He had found his way back to the basement of the apartment building he stayed in. The Boss had owned several of them, through various intermediaries. Most of the apartments had paying tenants—human tenants—but there were a few in each building that were reserved for his vampires. There had been a couple of others living in this building, but now they were nothing more than dust in the wind. He carried the girl into his basement apartment, and dumped her down onto his bed. Fuck, she looked good! He laughed at the thought that struck him: “Good enough to eat!” he said, and he lowered himself onto her. His fangs sank into her neck, and he felt her blood flood his mouth. He could still feel her pulse. Each beat of her heart sent another gush of blood into his mouth. He lost himself in the taste of her for a moment. It had been a long time since he’d had someone this good to eat. The Boss had discouraged the hunting of students. You could kill all the winos and vagrants you wanted—he liked to promote the idea that Sunnydale was a clean town—but the young and the healthy were off limits. Killing them attracted the attention of the Slayer, and the Boss hadn’t wanted that. It had been a long time since he’d had something this good to eat. Whoever had gotten to her first had hardly taken anything. Adrian’s hunger was fading, and she still wasn’t empty. He pulled his mouth away from her throat, and thought about what to do next. He could keep her alive down here. Supply her with a little water, and she could keep supplying him with blood for weeks, even if the quality of it wouldn’t be as good as on this first feeding. Her legs had been broken when he’d dropped her into the sewer, so he wouldn’t even have to restrain her. She wasn’t going anywhere. But if he wanted second class blood, he could just go back to hunting the winos. He could do better than that. He looked at her: her blonde hair, her pale skin. She was a mess now, but he remembered how pretty she’d been. He’d never had a piece of tail that looked as good as her. Even now, filthy as she was, she looked better than most of the tail he’d had. As he watched her, he saw her gasp a breath of air, and he heard her heartbeat falter. Damn! He’d taken too much. She was going to die, and then she’d just be a corpse that he had to get rid of, before it started to stink up the place. Too bad the Boss didn’t let them sire anyone…wait a minute! The Boss was dead! He didn’t have to worry about his rules anymore! He could sire any bitch he felt like! He looked at her lying there, taking her final breaths. He might have waited too long: he wasn’t really clear on how you went about this. The Boss had never let any but the most senior vamps sire anyone, and even then it was strictly controlled. New vamps were only made to replace the ones that the Slayer had killed. Angel and Spike hadn’t been as fastidious, but they’d still kept the siring privilege to themselves, and Drusilla. He had vague memories of his own siring. Spike had brought him as a gift to Drusilla. He could remember the feel of her fangs in his neck, and then the taste of her blood. She’d made him drink from her breast: the only time he’d ever been that close to her. He’d never had another shot at her, and he’d learned quickly that Spike—and later Angel—would have killed him slowly if he’d tried. They could be quite creative when it came to things like that. There was one vamp who had displeased Angel. He had started at the vampire’s toes, and slowly worked his way up his body, cutting off pieces. Spike set up a pool among the other minions. The winner was the vampire who picked how high Angel could get before it counted as a decapitation, and his victim turned to dust. The vampire had stayed conscious the whole time, and spent most of it screaming…until near the end when he’d no longer had lungs to force the air out of. He had still tried to scream then, but he hadn’t been able to make any noise. He didn’t have a breast to cut, to let the bitch drink from. He didn’t think that part was mandatory, anyway. Adrian lifted his wrist to his mouth, and bit into it. He snarled from the pain, and he tasted his own blood. It wasn’t nearly as sweet as the blood of the living. The blood of other vampires couldn’t give sustenance, but it could give life…after a fashion. He put his wrist to the bitch’s mouth. At first she did nothing. He was afraid he’d waited too long, but then he saw her gulp: a simple reflex to clear her throat of the liquid that had been trickling into it. Her eyes opened, and her hands came up to grab his arm. She started to suck hungrily at his wrist. There was something about the blood of a vampire: the first sip might be revolting—you sometimes had to struggle to make the victim take it—but to the nearly dead, it was like ambrosia. After they’d had the first sip, they had to have more. The bitch was still sucking. He wondered if she had ever sucked a cock that eagerly. He’d heard stories about her, back when he was alive, about how she’d gone down on the whole football team, but he’d suspected that that was just guys talking. He’d find out soon enough how well she could suck a cock. Her grip on his wrist loosened after a minute. Her mouth came away from it, and she slumped back down onto the mattress. She lay still: the complete stillness of the dead. There was no motion of her breathing. He couldn’t hear her heart beating. All he could do now was wait. Wait to see if he’d done it right. He might have to wait for a few hours, or maybe days, he wasn’t entirely clear on how long it would take for her to rise…if she was going to. Well, there were ways to entertain himself while he waited. The fresh blood in his system, and the thought of her sucking his cock had gotten him hard. Even if she might not wake up, she was still warm, and she was a pretty piece of tail. He lifted her skirt, and took hold of her panties. They ripped away from her when he pulled them. He looked at her pussy as he spread her legs. “What do you know?” he asked himself. “She’s a natural blonde. I guess I lost that bet.” Not that he’d ever have to pay it off. He’d seen the guy he made that bet against get killed by the Boss, before he got blown up. He unzipped his fly, and knelt down between her legs. He used his hand to guide his cock into her cunt. He grunted as he pushed into her, and he felt her tearing. Shit! She was a virgin! Damn! He wished he’d known that earlier. He’d have fucked her before he killed her, if he’d known that! No one screamed like a virgin! Well, it was too late now. His hips pumped into her. He could smell a bit of blood from her…not much, since she was dead, and the dead don’t really bleed much, but it helped lubricate him. That was a problem with fucking a corpse. They tended to be dry. He thought about finding another virgin, one who was still alive to fuck. Now that the Boss was gone, there was no one to stop him. He could grab some kid who stayed out after sunset, fuck her till she stopped screaming, and then kill her. The thought of listening to the screams of some girl he was fucking was too much for him. It was his favourite fantasy for a reason: it always got him off. That, and the scent of blood, inflamed him even more. He groaned as he came into the dead cunt under him.