ANNA MEETS COUNT DRACULA. BOOK 2- PART 16. AN EROTIC HORROR STORY BY SANDRA HARRIS. ©
Lady Victoria Strauss, the nineteen-year-old fianceé of rake-about-town Sir Daniel Rochester, was unable to sleep. She tossed and turned restlessly in her four-poster bed, her mind filled with a tangled mish-mash of random thoughts.
She wasn’t sure she actually even liked the darkly sinister, sardonic Sir Daniel, for one thing. Her parents had arranged for her to be betrothed to him. She’d had no say in it herself, naturally. There was something cold about him, cold and… even nasty, and she wasn’t sure that she’d have chosen him for herself if she’d had the choice.
Why, after all, she was the ravishingly beautiful and fascinating Lady Victoria Strauss, the most sought-after bride in Queen Victoria’s London since the unexplained disappearance of Lady Anna Carfax of Richmond House many months ago. She could have her pick of men. Still, she’d rather have Sir Daniel than some of the decrepit, crotchety old millionaires before whom her parents had paraded her since she’d turned eighteen. At least Sir Daniel was the right side of forty.
Eventually she fell into a fitful sleep. At around two o’clock in the morning, when the household was as silent as the grave, she woke with a start. She sat up in bed, alarmed, wondering what had woken her. Was it a noise? She couldn’t imagine what it had been. Everything was still and silent now. When her eyes became accustomed to the gloom, she made out the dark-cloaked figure of a man standing over her by the side of her bed.
“Are… are you real…?” she whispered, her green eyes wide with wonder. “Am I dreaming…?” She had never looked more beautiful. Her long, light-brown hair tumbled loosely down over the low-cut bosom of her nightgown. Her soft white breasts heaved in the filmy, pale-pink garment and her cheeks were prettily flushed from sleep.
“Yes,” replied the man, sitting down on the bed beside her and taking her hands in his. Victoria’s eyes widened still further at the sight of his sternly handsome face, the dark hair brushed back to emphasise the high, sharp cheekbones and dark piercing eyes. They were the most magnetic eyes she’d ever seen. She felt as if they could see into her very soul. It made her feel… shy, somehow, as if he knew what she looked like bare.
“Yes,” he repeated, a glint of amusement in those black, penetrating eyes. “Yes, Victoria, you are dreaming.” His hands began to roam over the soft swell of her breasts. Victoria was surprised at how much she wanted him to continue doing it. She should be slapping his face with outrage, screaming for assistance from members of the household.
“How do you know my name?” she asked him tremulously, aware now that he was removing her nightgown but strangely unable- or unwilling- to lift a finger to prevent him. How very… well, how very unorthodox this whole situation was.
A strange man had appeared in her bedroom and was undressing her. She was nude underneath. Soon he would be feasting his eyes on her naked body. The strange thing was that she wanted him to see her naked body. For the life of her, she wouldn’t be able to stop him anyway, even if she wanted to.
Her limbs felt heavy, as if she’d been drugged. Her limbs wouldn’t obey her even if she tried to fight him. She didn’t want to fight him, though. That was the really strange thing. She must be dreaming. She simply must be. Such a thing had never happened to her before. That was how she knew she must be dreaming.
“I know everything about you, Victoria,” replied the stranger as he pulled the nightgown over her head and gently disentangled her thick, lustrous coils of hair from the flimsy garment. Her bare breasts were uncovered now. They were as soft and milky-white as the breast of a dove. “I have made it my business to find out. I must admit that you intrigue me greatly, Victoria,” he added as he began to push her back against the fluffy, overstuffed pillows. “I think that you and I must get to know each other very well indeed. Would you like that, Victoria…?”
“Yes,” breathed Victoria, her green, glittering eyes enormous now. “Yes, please. I would like that very much.” She relaxed ecstatically back against the bank of pillows and closed her eyes.
TO BE CONTINUED HERE SOON…
This story is a work of fiction and comes (almost!) entirely from the imagination of Sandra Harris. Any resemblance to any persons living or un-dead is purely coincidental.
This story is copyrighted material and any reproduction without prior permission is illegal. Sandra Harris reserves the right to be identified as the author of this story.
Sandra Harris. ©
AUTHOR BIOGRAPHY OF SANDRA HARRIS.
Sandra Harris is a Dublin-based performance poet, novelist, film blogger, sex blogger and short story writer. She has given more than 200 performances of her comedy sex-and-relationship poems in different venues around Dublin, including The Irish Writers’ Centre, The International Bar, Toners’ Pub (Ireland’s Most Literary Pub), the Ha’penny Inn, Le Dernier Paradis at the Trinity Inn and The Strokestown Poetry Festival.
Her articles, short stories and poems have appeared in The Metro-Herald newspaper, Ireland’s Big Issues magazine, The Irish Daily Star, The Irish Daily Sun and The Boyne Berries literary journal. In August 2014, she won the ONE LOVELY BLOG award for her (lovely!) horror film review blog. She is addicted to buying books and has been known to bring home rain-washed tomes she finds on the street and give them a home.
She is the proud possessor of a pair of unfeasibly large bosoms. They have given her- and the people around her- infinite pleasure over the years. She adores the horror genre in all its forms and will swap you anything you like for Hammer Horror or JAWS memorabilia. She would also be a great person to chat to about the differences between the Director’s Cut and the Theatrical Cut of The Wicker Man. You can contact her at:
1) ‘… BY A WOMAN WALKING HER DOG…’
2) A WRITER’S JOURNEY
3) ANNA MEETS COUNT DRACULA
4) ANOTHER FIFTY REALLY RANDOM HORROR FILM REVIEWS TO DIE FOR…
5) CANCER BALLS
6) CATCH OF THE DAY
7) FIFTY FILTHY-DIRTY SEX-POEMS YOU MUST READ BEFORE I DIE.
8) FIFTY REALLY RANDOM HORROR FILM REVIEWS TO DIE FOR…
9) THE DEVIANTS
10) VISITING DAY