The First Taste is Free - Tales of a Lesbian Vampire (Episode 1 of the Pixie Chix) by Zephyr Indigo Page B
Authors: Zephyr Indigo
Tags: Erótica, Romance, Fantasy, Magic, Sex, series, vampire, FF, Short-Story, Fairy Tale, Erotic, love, Lesbian, Lesbian Romance, mythology, Fantasy erotica, pussy, lesbian erotica, lesbian fantasy, lesbian fairy tales, lesbian vampire, lesbian stories, lesbian paranormal, pixie
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wanted to taste Erynthia’s pussy again. And she knew that if she did, that she wouldn’t be able to resist drinking her blood as well.
Which is why I’m out here, alone, in the forest.
It was much easier out here. In town it was too easy to think of Erynthia’s wetness, and even if she kept her distance, there were still all the other warm bodies nearby. She might be able to resist going to The Drunken Duck , and she might be able to resist drinking from any of the other people that crossed her path, but she was reaching her breaking point. At some point, if temptation was near, her resolve would crumble and she would find her tongue inside some other woman and her teeth in her neck.
At least out here I can resist. For how long, I don’t know.
It hadn’t always been like this. At first she had loved being a vampire. For decades she had revelled in the rush of power that feeding brought to her and delighted in all the ways that vampirism enhanced her life. She was stronger and faster. She could see every detail of the world with clear eyes and hear tiny sounds of such immense beauty that no mortal could hope to perceive. And she was beyond the control of anyone; there were no hunters back then. She felt that she could do what she wanted, whenever she wanted.
But she needed to feed, and at first she needed to hurt and sometimes destroy. Early in her life as a vampire she felt justified, that she was a goddess and all the lesser folk should willingly give themselves to her. That feeling had faded. Now she knew that she was nothing better than a thief.
At least she wasn’t a killer anymore; she had learned how to avoid taking lives while feeding. Even so, she had the sneaking suspicion that she wasn’t just stealing blood from her victims, but some of their life too.
She needed to stop, but didn’t know how.
If I were smart, I’d let the hunters catch me.
Thoughts like that were becoming too common these days.
Suddenly, she noticed someone standing in the trees ahead of her. They found me!
No, she could identify a hunter on sight, and this person wasn’t one of them. It was just a woman, or maybe even a girl, standing perfectly still and staring back at her.
Felicia slowed, but kept walking toward the woman. There was a definite argument to be made for turning away, as nothing good ever came of meeting strange people in the dark; vampires knew that better than anyone. As always though, curiosity got the better of her. Who is she? Is she waiting for me? How did she know I’d be here?
Plus, as much as Felicia didn’t want to admit it, she was hungry and that gave her an extra push forward.
I’m not going to feed. I’m not going to feed. I’m not going to feed.
If she said that enough, it might come true.
Well then, maybe I could just taste her. I’m sure this time I could stop at that.
No, I couldn’t.
She had covered about half the distance to the woman now, enough to make out some details. They were confusing.
The woman didn’t belong in the same forest as Felicia, didn’t belong in the same forest as a moody, possibly even suicidal vampire, didn’t belong any place where serious, depressing thoughts existed.
She was short, with pale white skin and bright rosy cheeks. Her clothing gave the impression of being for winter, but as Felicia got closer she realized that there was no possible way the clothing would keep anyone warm, especially on a frightfully cold night such as this. Her long coat was made of leather and dyed a deep shade of blue. It had a hood lined with white fur, but the woman wasn’t using it, leaving exposed her long, straight blonde hair. The coat itself, if it were thicker, might possibly have been warm, but it was thin and clung closely to the woman’s shape, accentuating her curves before flaring out at her hips in the manner of a skirt. On her legs she wore white stockings that blended into the snow behind her, and black shoes that were little more than slippers as
Which is why I’m out here, alone, in the forest.
It was much easier out here. In town it was too easy to think of Erynthia’s wetness, and even if she kept her distance, there were still all the other warm bodies nearby. She might be able to resist going to The Drunken Duck , and she might be able to resist drinking from any of the other people that crossed her path, but she was reaching her breaking point. At some point, if temptation was near, her resolve would crumble and she would find her tongue inside some other woman and her teeth in her neck.
At least out here I can resist. For how long, I don’t know.
It hadn’t always been like this. At first she had loved being a vampire. For decades she had revelled in the rush of power that feeding brought to her and delighted in all the ways that vampirism enhanced her life. She was stronger and faster. She could see every detail of the world with clear eyes and hear tiny sounds of such immense beauty that no mortal could hope to perceive. And she was beyond the control of anyone; there were no hunters back then. She felt that she could do what she wanted, whenever she wanted.
But she needed to feed, and at first she needed to hurt and sometimes destroy. Early in her life as a vampire she felt justified, that she was a goddess and all the lesser folk should willingly give themselves to her. That feeling had faded. Now she knew that she was nothing better than a thief.
At least she wasn’t a killer anymore; she had learned how to avoid taking lives while feeding. Even so, she had the sneaking suspicion that she wasn’t just stealing blood from her victims, but some of their life too.
She needed to stop, but didn’t know how.
If I were smart, I’d let the hunters catch me.
Thoughts like that were becoming too common these days.
Suddenly, she noticed someone standing in the trees ahead of her. They found me!
No, she could identify a hunter on sight, and this person wasn’t one of them. It was just a woman, or maybe even a girl, standing perfectly still and staring back at her.
Felicia slowed, but kept walking toward the woman. There was a definite argument to be made for turning away, as nothing good ever came of meeting strange people in the dark; vampires knew that better than anyone. As always though, curiosity got the better of her. Who is she? Is she waiting for me? How did she know I’d be here?
Plus, as much as Felicia didn’t want to admit it, she was hungry and that gave her an extra push forward.
I’m not going to feed. I’m not going to feed. I’m not going to feed.
If she said that enough, it might come true.
Well then, maybe I could just taste her. I’m sure this time I could stop at that.
No, I couldn’t.
She had covered about half the distance to the woman now, enough to make out some details. They were confusing.
The woman didn’t belong in the same forest as Felicia, didn’t belong in the same forest as a moody, possibly even suicidal vampire, didn’t belong any place where serious, depressing thoughts existed.
She was short, with pale white skin and bright rosy cheeks. Her clothing gave the impression of being for winter, but as Felicia got closer she realized that there was no possible way the clothing would keep anyone warm, especially on a frightfully cold night such as this. Her long coat was made of leather and dyed a deep shade of blue. It had a hood lined with white fur, but the woman wasn’t using it, leaving exposed her long, straight blonde hair. The coat itself, if it were thicker, might possibly have been warm, but it was thin and clung closely to the woman’s shape, accentuating her curves before flaring out at her hips in the manner of a skirt. On her legs she wore white stockings that blended into the snow behind her, and black shoes that were little more than slippers as
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