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The Duke’s Sacrament

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I was forever changed when I, a demure farm boy traveling on his first trek from home, was suddenly thrown off my horse in the middle of a storm. Some frightful hound had chased my steed far from the path to town, and tripped him in the woods, nipping at his hide til the poor creature launched me to speed away. The mongrel scurried after the horse and I tripped and stumbled, the rain blinding me and pelting me so harshly it was a struggle to stay upright. I could just barely gather enough strength to make it to the side door of a towering, grim estate- so large and solid I felt nothing but relief at the sight of its medieval construction.

My trembling hands nearly hit soft flesh as my rapid knocking was stopped by a unnaturally pale Duke, imposing in my disheveled state, despite his billowy nightwear. He was ancient, with thin and faded gray hair and long whiskers, sunken eyes, sharp bony cheeks, and a face marked with decades of wrinkles only comparable to my most respected elders. His thin lips were rouge with wine stains and his slight frame in the large nightgown painted him as recently awoken from a hedonistic daze. Surprisingly, he held a solid candelabra with a strongman’s ease, despite the soft, thin hand that brushed wet hair from my eyes.

“Oh, dear. How cold you are, poor thing. No small thing like you should brave such a horrid storm. Dear, please- please, come inside, quickly. Poor boy, you mustn't stay out a second longer.”

I fell over myself as he pulled me in, leaning my head against his bony shoulder. I tried to speak but my teeth clattered hard enough to chip. With sweet ease he held my jaw still and clicked his tongue. “Goodness me, you’re chilled to the bone. We need to take care of you post haste, don’t we? Yes, let’s get you nice and warm.”

He told me I’d woken him unexpectedly and he feared he’d been having a nightmare, I was so panicked. I’d been howling at his door in fear, something I couldn’t process till he set me in front of a fire and forced a mug of mulled wine into my shivering hands. I rubbed my raw throat and sighed at the sweet relief my gluttonous gulping of the drink gave me. He helped me keep my shaky hands still and brushed stray droplets from my lips with poise. I told him how terrible I felt frightening such an honorable gentleman, apologizing profusely for the effort of care I required. Still he carded thin fingers through my hair and told me he didn’t mind.

“Dear boy, you don’t know how nice it is to have you. I’ve been alone so long I’ve forgotten what it was like to see another man. Here, there you go, wrap yourself just like that. Good lad. Now, how did you come upon my estate, poor boy?”

His dark, red eyes alighted as I explained my misfortunes. How I’d left my farm to try and bring back respect and money to my struggling home, how I had struggled to stay awake riding for nearly two full days and nights and how that wretched hound ran me into his land and taken off with my horse and belongings, how I’d dragged myself to his doorstep. Only then did I look at myself and apologize even more, begging him to let me clean up anything I stained or soiled in my muddy state.  He reassured me there was no need for such things, that he had staff who’d tend to such trifles and I was very much welcome to stay with him as long as I needed but first, he insisted on a simple thing.

“I know you must feel a bit overwhelmed but, would you please let me draw you a bath? It will warm you up so well and you are in dire need of some comfort. After all you’ve been through it’s the least I can offer you, dearest.”

I wanted instantly to dispute, to assert that all I’d need was a rag and a loaned outfit and, of course, that I owed him deeply- but there was something about the way he rubbed his thin fingers up my back, how he crowded towards me and made me stare into his deep red eyes. They seemed to pulse and thrum, shining like dew-covered apples and rippling like wine. I said yes like a wish- soft and airy. The Duke smiled at me with gleaming white teeth. 

He guided me towards his bedchambers, clutching the joint of my shoulder with an inhuman vice that should’ve unnerved me but- perhaps due to the wine or the deep chill that was ebbed away by his touch- it gifted me a flood of warmth. He seemed to note my weakened state in his grasp, pulling me abreast and whispering to me.

“Don’t worry dear thing, let me help you. You can lean on me. Let me take care of you, throw away all those heavy troubles. I’ll take all of it away, darling.”  I couldn’t think of what he meant at that moment, I only vaguely recall asking him to help me however he saw fit. He smiled with sharp, stained canines. “I’ll erase all your sorrows, dear boy. Now, let’s get you clean and comforted.”

Finally he led me to a massive bathroom, candle lit and all white stone, warm beneath my feet. Slowly, he guided me towards a large marble tub, and aided me in pulling my heavy limbs out of my soiled garb. I didn’t even consider that I was fully exposed to this Duke, letting him see how horribly unkempt and malformed I was. As a farmer’s son with little availability to his luxurious hygiene, I must’ve looked barbaric, but I couldn’t fathom my manners, my status or my fear in that warm room, only the richness of the Duke’s voice, the deepness of his sanguine eyes. I could only feel the soft warmth of the rising steam and the soft, pointed pressure of his nails in my back as he pushed me in the basin. 

“Good boy, just like that. Lean into the water, just like that. What beautiful curls, oh, but all these callouses and scars, poor thing. You mustn't have had a day of rest in years, dear boy. You’ve worked so hard, my pet, let me reward all that work, all that hardship. Close your eyes, darling.

Hot bathing water was a rare luxury in my crowded home, but a small, fire warmed kettle of water was nothing compared to the slick, scented heat I was immersed in, the heated marble warming me as much as the oiled waters.

“Lovely, sweet boy. See how good this is? Everything will go away after a nice long soak. Oh, look at all this tension, all this stress, no no no, you can’t have that. Not while you're my darling boy.”

His firm hands massaged cloyingly sweet oils deep into long formed knots in my shoulders, making me grow so loose and wanton I could hardly form a thought, much less stop the raw moans of relief he pulled out of me. I felt a flush arise over me yet it deepened when the Duke hummed above me and squeezed the worn spot.

“Good boy. Keep making sounds for me, don't hold your tongue. You sound so gorgeous, dearest. Lean back, let me hold your head. Don't worry a thing, just let me take care of you.” I couldn’t feel fear or confusion as his bony hand covered my eyes and heavy breath brushed my neck- something sultry and acidic in the simultaneous heat and chill of his exhale. Two soft points of pressure hovered on my pulse, waiting for me to take a deep inhale. And then he bit down.

He bit into my neck, a soft squelch the only sound my foggy brain latched onto- echoing for eternity. I couldn’t hold back my shocked gasp from the suddenness of his act, a hand instinctively clutching the arm of the Duke’s silk gown as I was gripped tighter, as if a predator’s strength had suddenly possessed the frail man’s body. He suckled at my skin and I could feel the probing tongs of his fangs twisting into my flesh, the two solid points penetrating deeper into me as his mouth flexed against my skin. I wanted to thrash, I wanted to cry out for some improbable help but instead a deep keen of pleasure, unlike any I’d made in my life, burst from my chest, my hand latching onto the thin wrist and slim fingers over my eyes to steady myself as he sucked again, growling against my neck at my taste. I can still recall the heavy spike of arousal that bolted through me at that sound- that deep, enraptured rumble. 

With every sucking pull, I felt dully stimulated and weakened, my head growing heavy, my moans dissolving into desperate yowls and trembling pants. The hand over my eyes traveled down to my chest. His fingers traced my skin soft enough that his sharp nails didn’t cut until they found my raised nipples, twisting them hard in tandem with deep sucking pulls of blood, shooting sparks through me that seemed to leak all sentience from my being. I thrashed uncontrollably in the silky water, hands scrambling for purchase on the Duke’s shoulders and thickening hair as I arched into his mouth. His steely grip kept me close, his clawed hand over my shoulder pulled me into his broad chest, burying my cheek into the crook of his neck, against his silent pulse.  

Gently, his fangs slipped out of my flesh, a cold kiss left on my fluttering pulse. All animosity vanished from him as he let out a soft sigh against my jaw, his free hand moving from tormenting my chest to cradling my face. I was sobbing, tears leaking faster than his heavy thumb could wipe away, but he cooed at me, whispering sweet praises til I calmed myself. He was gentle, kissing my bleeding skin, the arm latching me to his chest held fast as he peppered his lips up my pulse and, as if savoring the last dredges of a dish, lapped strong, deliberate stripes up my neck. My tears and blood must’ve mixed, but he cleaned it all away, til I no longer bleed or cried anymore. The licks forced out the last whimpers from my dry throat before he loosened his hold, releasing me back to the hot water. I finally met his eyes, freed from his hand and his hold, I stared up at the Duke, panting as he leaned over me. I took in his blood stained lips, the droplets, fat and sluggish sliding down his sharp chin, his piercing ruby eyes, his long nails stroking my face so kindly. He was so gorgeous, so hypnotic, I couldn’t look away from him, my stiff, numb fingers trembling as I reached out to wipe away the bead of blood dangling on his chin. 

The wrinkles I had noted on the man who’d graciously welcomed me were now gone. He looked nearly as young as myself, a man who was wizened beyond his years and youthful with his bright face, his thin hair had grown thick and darkened to a warm chestnut and his sunken face had risen, grown smooth with strong angular bones. His light gray whiskers were now a handsome, dark beard and his teeth-his fangs- gleamed, resting on plump, reddened lips. His skin was warm, pigmented pink unlike his earlier gray pallor and a rush filled me thinking that I- a lowly peasant- had done that. I had healed him, had been savored and feasted on, had sustained him. 

He smiled at my slack jawed staring. He held up my chin and kissed me, letting me taste my own blood on his lips. And I feel that is what collapsed all sense of myself, having him so close, so enthralled by me that he sought my touch, he keened at my sudden grip against his chest. I became his. I chose to be His. There was nothing else I could be. I couldn’t resist- my hands attached themselves to His smooth jawbone as if magnetized. His nails traced my knuckles and I tried with all my strength to launch my wet body at Him, to finally feel all of Him under me. Unfortunately, my soft limbs turned to jelly as I tried to push against Him, all strength leached from me. I fell boneless towards the floor.

If His neck hadn’t been so close, I’m sure I would’ve slipped and possibly thrown myself against the warm stones. The Duke laughed heartily, kissing my nose to rid me of my pained face. “Such wonderful enthusiasm, darling. I’m so happy you feel as infatuated as I do, dear. Believe me, I’d place you in my bed immediately if you weren’t so fragile- we still have more steps, sweetheart. Let me take away all your weakness and make you mine.” My stomach flipped in excitement, but I felt horrifically sick, letting out a groan at a sharp rush of nausea. He rubbed my back and sat me up. “I know, dearest, it’s alright. Stay strong, and I promise, you'll never feel this pain again.”

With intense strength, the Duke pulled me out of the tub in a lift. I was shocked by how gentle His grip was, feeling a hot swirling in my gut overpowering the sickness as I held on to His collar. The hot sensation didn’t distract, however, from my numb limbs- my body was so worn it was hard to keep my head raised without Him supporting me, holding me to His warm, un-breathing chest. After my Duke wrapped me in a thick, velvet robe, He carried me to a small chapel in the courtyard of His grounds- a high glass ceiling keeping out the cold rain. 

It was gorgeous, dark blue and red stained glass coloring the candlelit church, two rows of pews and a parapet that held something other than the cross hanging up on the arched wall. Instead of a battered messiah, a bleeding Saint Sebastian reached out a hand to me, his other hand directly pointing to a votive chest on the altar, delicate arrows leaving ruby gashes in his side. After guiding me to my knees before the parapet, my Duke unlocked the chest and carried His sacrament to me. He held out a shining, bronze chalice filled with a metallic smelling substance to my lips. 

“This is a separate sacrament from the sacred meal of your mere church, dearest. This is the gift of my life, a gift you have earned with your humbleness and the fate that has lead you to me. Drink this, and join me. Be my darling boy forever, never work a field or fear a higher power ever again, my boy. Drink my blood, for it shall make us one.”

He asked me to drink his wine as I had in church- unknowing how little I, as the eldest son of five, attended chapel. Still, He offered me His sacrament, and who was I to refuse?

I drank the whole cup, surprised at the addictive sweetness of His blood, the way it seemed not to settle in my stomach but more to flow through me, taking over my arms and chest and lungs and heart. I wondered if I tasted that sweet to Him as a primal growl filled my throat.

He encouraged me- “Yes, what an obedient boy, you're so good for me. Drink. Drink and be revived.”- as I gulped down the last of His thick manna, showing off His empty chalice with a cheerful grin. He kissed that smile off my face and-for a moment- I heard a rattling clacking of sharp teeth against each other as my Duke dug His tongue into my throat. 

He all but launching me into the nearest pew, claws dragging along my visible chest and kneading my ass. Feeling the smooth silk of His nightgown between my legs made me feel insatiable. I didn’t know what came over me, but I held His chin and bit His collar, making the Duke growl like a beast. I couldn’t taste blood, my fangs were too soft to break skin, but I could taste His skin- warm and dusky. He was like aged wine, refined and addicting. I tore into His dress with unnatural strength, using the tattered shreds of His lapel to pull Him flush between my thighs. He chuckled at my awed smile, nipping my shoulder as He put His full force on me, crushing me into a pew as He ground His thick cock against my covered stomach. 

I struggled to untie the tight knot of my robe, slicing the cord with sharp talons. I forced Him above me, letting myself be displayed to Him in full vulnerability. I panted with need, shuddering as my Duke dragged His sharp claws down from my heaving chest to my wet cunt, slowly dipping into the slick that drooled into the maroon fabric. My weak hands pulled His claws towsrd my entrance, whining as He teased my rim before finally breaking inward, pushing in unbearably slow. I let myself go wild, moaning out as He thrust the long, sharp finger in and out of me.

“Such a gorgeous boy, such heavenly warmth. I can't wait to savor you eternally, darling, truly- but tonight? Tonight, darling, I need to break you in. You have to understand your place as my new thrall, you understand?," I let out a needy whimper as He pulled His fingers out from me, but with swift ease He freed Himself from His ripped gown and covered me with His full, bared body. He teased my entrance with His cock, dragging His hot, pulsing penis against my own.

"You’re my sweet boy,” He declared, as He slowly but surely entered, waiting till he was nestled clean against me. He stilled. Stare down at me. And then, He shook me. “my dear husband, my mindless slut, my lovely, soft toy.” He punctuated every title, every use, every insult with a painful, gorgeous thrust and waited til I wailed, til tears peaked in my eyes and my bit lip beaded blood. “Won't you tell me, love. Won't you? Are you my little toy?”

I howled out, “Yes! I’m yours, I’m yours forever. Never let me go, never let go, never!”, digging my nails into His shoulder. Without a second of hesitation, He fucked into me like a steam-powered machine. I felt the walls of the cathedral shake with my cry, the stained glass shuddering from my pleas for more and More and MORE. He kissed me, He bit me, He squeezed and pinched and tore. And I shattered. I cried. I let out yowls of pure overwhelmed pleasure.

I became the feral cats that cried out in the dark streets, as wanton and needy as the yowling bitches in heat that traipsed the square. Yet I felt as helpless to my needs as the trapped, frightened rodents my brothers tormented. I was pinned by Him- a bug under my Husband's thumb, and yet, despite my powerlessness, despite the pain and the grip and His hard thrusts, I felt so deeply loved. I felt wanted. I knew I wasn't just simply being used, wasn't going to be tossed aside when I’d been worn out and lost my appeal. I was being wed. This was a vow on both of our eternal lives. This was my Holy Sacrament of Matrimony.

I finally came as He bit my collar, sinking His fangs deep, scrapping bone. I kept begging Him, never let go, I gripped Him tight. A hot rush of warmth filled me and I knew I had given Him the same glorious gift he had given me. I felt His bones pop under my grip and heard Him moan so deep in my own chest it felt like a tremor of the earth. I couldn’t unfurl until those fangs lifted, until He kissed me and pushed my own blood into my mouth. And we made our consummation complete.

“Thank you, dear. You’re the finest creature I’ve ever found. Please, rest, you did so much, you did so well, dearest. Close your eyes, yes, dear one. The sun is rising and we’ll rest. Tomorrow you’ll learn how to trap and hunt, and I’ll be right with you. My dear little husband, you’ll be my one and only. Rest and awake tomorrow night.”

For the last few centuries we have repeated our sweet vows to each other. Whenever it rains or the feast of St. Sebastian approaches again, we rut together in his chapel. He pins me down and uses me til I can’t feel my legs any more. My Duke holds me in his lap and pets my hair, He nips my shoulders or kisses patterns on my skin. On those nights we don’t hunt the streets, we take in each other and whisper about that first night. How grateful my Duke was for His daughter’s choice, how He thanked her profusely while I rested and He knew on the sight of me, at the smell of my sweet blood, I was everything He’d desired. 

“I’ve been here longer than our small nation, I fought beside Goths and Turks and have lost all taste for war. But you? You are ferocious and hungry and were so deeply wanting- going to be forced into labor, forced to rebuild a legacy you never wanted- I could never let you go after I saw you out there, after I smelled you. Dearest, you were made for pampering, for display, for warming my lap. Thank god you stumbled into my humble abode and took to my suggestion so easily. You’d be unlawful dissatisfied without my guiding love. You must see that deep down you always wanted to be owned, didn’t you?”

There was no hesitation to my nod sitting up from my place between His strong thighs to kiss His petting palm, never looking away from His lovely red eyes. He pulled me up, kissed my head as I sat in His lap. “I’ll never let you go, dearest. I’ll never leave my sweet little husband.” I hugged Him tight and felt Him start to shrink in my grip. With ease I changed with Him, the two of us slimmed from our natural form to whip thin hounds, trotting side by side towards our bed. Often my Duke would change to another form, finding the burst of adrenaline and the fast speed easy over limiting His use of that transformation. 

So we shifted back after burrowing in the sheets and I let myself doze off as dawn approached- thick shades blocking out the light so we can stay deep in our lovely fortress, in a curtained bed and sleep the day away, knowing the night will lead to gluttonous feeding and hedonistic fornicating- in short, expressions of our true, undying love.