BySandra Harris, writer at


Up in the bedchamber shared by Count Dracula and Countess Anna, an interesting scene was unfolding. Count Dracula was seated in a comfortable armchair near the bed. He looked relaxed and at ease. One elegant, black-booted foot was crossed casually over one black-clad knee. His favourite whip, the one he routinely used to chastise Anna, dangled loosely between his long, capable fingers. A smile played about the corners of his fine-cut lips. He looked like a man supremely pleased by the turn of events, as indeed he was.

On the floor a few feet away from him knelt Anna his pregnant bride and Valeria, the most loyal and faithful of all his handmaidens. They were naked. Tears of pain streamed down their faces as they crouched together, holding hands tightly and exchanging glances of fear tinged with mounting excitement. Their nipples were stiff and their bare breasts heaving with their rampant emotions. Anna’s pregnant belly had never looked bigger or rounder. The sight of their nakedness and abject submissiveness pleased the Count enormously.

Their nude bodies bore the marks of the Count’s lethal whip from their shoulders to their knees. He had been especially assiduous when punishing their naughty bare buttocks. While they’d knelt up on the bed side by side, holding hands with their bottoms obediently upraised, he had whipped these bottoms soundly until he had drawn blood. Neither woman would be sitting comfortably for quite some time to come.

They had sobbed and struggled and begged and pleaded during their joint punishment, but neither Anna nor Valeria would have missed the occasion for the world. The Count’s punishments were terrible indeed, but they were also an honour and a privilege and as sexually exciting as anything a woman, living or Un-Dead, would ever experience again in her life.

“I’m bored,” declared the Count suddenly with a huge theatrical yawn. “Amuse me, sluts. I need distraction. Now!” he added sharply. Both women jumped and clutched at each other. Tentatively, her dark eyes cast submissively down, Valeria said:

“Please, Master, how may we entertain you?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” replied the Count slyly, toying with the whip he held in his hands. “Why don’t you both climb up onto the bed and do that thing that you do together every time my back is turned…?” The two women looked at each other fearfully.

“What… What thing do you mean, Master?” Anna said timidly.

“Don’t play the innocent with me,” said Dracula, his magnetic eyes raking over their naked bodies, making them feel somehow more nude than they actually were. “I know what you two get up to together every time I am unavoidably absent. Now, get up on that bed and get started, the pair of you, or so help me I’ll take this whip and flay the skin completely from your miserable bodies! And you won’t enjoy it this time, I can promise you that,” he added darkly.

Too afraid to test his patience further, the two women climbed up onto the big four-poster bed with the heavy bronze curtains, Valeria assisting her pregnant mistress. Nervously, they lay down against the pillows and began to kiss each other on the mouth and fondle each other’s breasts, sorely punished buttocks and rapidly dampening privates.

As their excitement and pleasure in each other’s bodies mounted, the two women quickly forgot that they were not alone and were, in fact, under the strictest surveillance. Under Dracula’s smugly satisfied gaze, they fingered and licked each other’s feminine parts to an earth-shattering climax. Afterwards, they collapsed back against the pillows, sobbing with release. When they opened their eyes again, Dracula was standing over them, stark naked and holding his fully erect male member in both hands.

“That was undoubtedly a delightful appetiser, my dear ladies,” he mocked, “but I think that now it is time for something a little more filling.” He climbed onto the bed and lay down between the two nude women, who received him rapturously and with a satisfying degree of gratitude.

Outside the door, Dracula’s chief handmaiden Gloria listened to the sounds of their rowdy love-making with mounting fury. She hated Valeria every bit as much as she hated Anna. Those two women were the Master’s pets while she, Gloria, was left out in the cold time after time. She would give anything, do anything, to supplant that pair of evil whore-bitches in the Master’s affections.

Shaking with hatred, she remembered that she was supposed to be thinking of a way to get rid of the Count’s new plaything, the newly vampirised Lady Victoria Strauss, late of Camden House in London. The Count was keeping Victoria and her maid Melanie, who was still living as a human female, in a locked part of the castle. Sooner or later, Melanie would join the ranks of the Un-Dead and Gloria would have yet another competitor to contend with.

If only there was a way to kill all the hated birds with one stone and become the Master’s bride and Countess once and for all. Seething with rage, Gloria vowed to find a way. If it killed her…


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. ©


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:

[email protected]



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