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DRACULA jism spurted far front


Blood Lovers

[The author is grateful to the anonymous sender of the following
manuscript, whoever that sender might be. The author received it in the
midst of a time spent studying the vampire myth, and especially that of
Count Dracula. One may imagine my excitement upon receiving what was
clearly a missing scene from Bram Stoker's book, doubtless excised by some
editor with Victorian scruples. The scene immediately before it -- which I
have briefly excerpted to show how the missing scene fits in -- is
certainly erotically charged enough to offend (or titillate) even the least
prudish Victorian. Why that scene was left in and the scene I received was
censored, I can only attribute to some misguided sense of propriety. It is
my great pleasure to bring at last to public view a scene which I feel is
the most powerful in the book.

We come into the scene having just read how the female vampires have
tried to seduce Harker; one is just about to bite his neck when the Count
interposes, in a white-hot rage:

"How dare you touch him, any of you? How dare you cast eyes on him when
I had forbidden it? Back, I tell you all! This man belongs to me! Beware
how you meddle with him, or you'll have to deal with me." The fair girl,
with a laugh of ribald coquetry, turned to answer him:-

"You yourself never loved; you never love!" On this the other women
joined, and such a mirthless, hard, soulless laughter rang through the room
that it almost made me faint to hear; it seemed like the pleasure of
fiends. Then the Count turned, after looking at my face attentively, and
said in a soft whisper:-

"Yes, I too can love; you yourselves can tell it from the past. Is it
not so? Well, now I promise you that when I am done with him you shall
kiss him at your will. Now go! go! I must awaken him, for there is work
to be done."

At this point, the Count gives the women a child to feed on, and they
literally disappear. The paragraph ends, "Then the horror overcame me, and
I sank down unconscious." This sentence, undoubtedly inserted by the editor
for the sake of continuity with the beginning of the subsequent chapter, is
most surely a poor substitute for the following:]

The Count turned to me, with the intent look of before, and said:-

"Indeed, I am wrong to be angry with them. How can they not have
desired you, Harker Jonathan? But you are mine, as I have said." His voice
grew low, and the fire behind his dark eyes seemed to blaze up. "Indeed,
why should I not possess you now?"

He bent down to me where I lay on the couch, and with swift,
long-fingered hands, opened my shirt. And as for me? I lay as one
paralysed while he stripped me of my clothes with no more ado than might my
nanny have done when as a boy I might have fallen in the mud. He stepped
back, and commanded me:-

"Rise, my young friend, rise up that I may look upon you." And against
my will, my body did indeed move of itself to stand before the Count in all
its nakedness. He walked slowly around me, gazing with the consideration
of the horse-buyer, and behind me I heard him move the couch back whence I
had shifted it.

"Such smooth flesh," his voice said suddenly by my ear, and my heart
leapt though my body stayed still. "So soft and fair." I felt his fingers
touch the skin of my back, his long nails barely brushing, and my skin
pebbled under them. He came once again to face me, saying:-

"It is only right and just that you should see my nakedness, as I see
yours." And with this, he drew off his rich, old-style clothes, folding
them neatly and laying them on the desk where I had penned my diary entry
only a few hours before.

Then he turned and stood before me, and I could see that the iron grey
of his hair did not reflect the age of his body. His skin was dark, and
the muscle under it firm as that of a man in his prime. Black hairs with a
sprinkling of white lightly covered his chest, and the triangle they made,
pointing downward across his belly, drew my eyes downward also.

I can scarcely write of what I saw there, standing at the point of that
triangle, but I must, if only to assure myself that all I saw was real.
His great member was surely the circumference of Mina's forearm, long and
dark and hard as a club of wood, curving slightly upward. My mind shrank
from thinking what he might do, but I could not help but know his intent.
He moved around behind me and murmured in my ear:-

"My ancestor impaled his enemies upon stakes of wood. Upon this stake
of flesh shall I impale you, my beloved." I felt his hands grip me by the
upper arms, and he lifted me off my feet as though I had been no more than
a child. Slowly, inexorably, he lowered me onto that awful stake, and as I
felt the head of it spread my nether cheeks and then stretch open my
arsehole I could only whimper, though my mind was shrieking. I thought I
would go mad with the pain and terror, and then my feet touched the floor,
his arms slipped across my chest, hugging me to him, and all that great
length was inside me. God help me.

My head was spinning, and I realised that my own manhood had responded
and was now standing forth; I felt his belly shake gently with his
laughter. "You see, my good young friend, that your body knows what your
mind cannot contemplate. Move with me now, beloved. Your body knows the
measure of this dance of love."

His right hand slipped down, pressing on my belly, and his thrusts sent
pulses through my body like electrical shock. I am no student of
physiology, but I am now sure that some organ lies in the belly of a man that from within can give to him as much pleasure and more as that of his
organ without. It was just this inner organ that the Count touched with
each thrust, and though I could feel control of my body gradually return to
my mind, I now had no wish to disengage myself from his embrace, nor from
the waves of pleasure which rocked me to the marrow.

I reached behind me and grasped his nether cheeks in my hands, feeling
the muscles there clench and release. His laugh rang with triumph as our
bodies moved together, and moans of pleasure came on my every breath. His
thrusts grew stronger, and I could no longer keep my feet, but his
supernaturally powerful arms held me pinned to him as firmly as any bond.
My head fell back onto his shoulder and my moans became more frantic as I
felt myself approaching climax.

Then I felt the brush of his moustache upon my neck, as thrilling as the
lips of the woman had been, and a sudden stabbing pain -- his gleaming
teeth piercing my vein even as his his member pierced my body. A scream
ripped free of my throat as my blood pulsed into his mouth and the white
jism spurted far in front of me with the force of my orgasm.

I must have fainted then, for I was next aware of lying cradled in his
arms. I was sobbing, trembling in every limb. Again I felt the touch of
his lips and tongue, once on my tear-stained cheek, once on the tip of my
quivering member. "Behold," his deep voice murmured, "all the liquids of
your body are precious to me, my lover. And now --" here he took one of
the sharp, strong nails of his fingers and ran it across his nipple so that
blood welled in the cut -- "drink. Drink the elixir of your blood,
transformed in the crucible of my body." He bent down, and I opened my
mouth -- God help me! -- and suckled as though at my mother's breast. He
groaned, low and softly, and I felt his organ throb as I lay in his lap.
"Yes, drink!" he said, half-commanding, half-imploring. The fluid burned
in my throat like strong whisky, turning to fire my own blood, and suddenly
I was a man possessed, chewing on his nipple, sucking the dark fluid until
he was the one who shook, and an animal howl burst, it seemed, from the
very core of his being. His spend touched the flesh of my back like molten
metal and instinct drove my body, rolling, away from him.

He got to his feet, swaying slightly. "Here," he said, "taste me; kiss
this rod and you too shall become as I am. You shall be immortal, and we
shall love until the end of time." His voice hypnotised me; I dropped to my
knees and took that weapon in my hands. "Taste," he murmured, "and from
now until eternity we will live together, sustaining ourselves upon each
other, and upon the blood of the fools who can have no knowledge of the
true life!"

"No!" I shrieked, throwing myself back from him, stumbling and
scrabbling across the rugs to get away. "I will not drink the blood of the
living! Am I to be like you, unable to climax without my blood being
drawn? Never, I say! I would rather die!"

In three strides he was looming over me, laughing. He took me by the
shoulders and shook me. "Do not be a fool, Harker Jonathan! Of what use
are you to me dead? Do you spurn me? Then your punishment must be to
live, indeed, to live a mortal life.

"But because I love you, I will possess you again, to try if you will
not perhaps change your mind." He took me once again in those arms, and
struggle though I might, I could not escape them. With one arm holding my
arms to my body and the other binding my legs, the Count hefted me like a
bundle of wood.

"My ancestor was very much fond of observing human suffering, and there
are chambers for that purpose on nearly every floor of this castle. Let me
show you just one such." I screamed and cursed, I implored and prayed, I
struggled with all my strength, but all in vain. The Count only laughed,

"Dear boy, your mouth may say anything it will, but I have seen the word
of your body, and know that for the true word. I would see what else your
body has to say!"

He moved up to the room's hearth and pressed against one of the stones
with his knee; with a grinding of stone against stone, the whole hearth
sank into the wall, revealing a narrow passage through which the Count
manĪvered before pressing another stone in the back of the hearth that sent
it to its place again. The chamber was utterly dark, but the Count moved
with the sure step of an ordinary man in broad daylight. He set me on my
feet, and before I could decide where in the darkness I might run he had
grasped my wrists and clamped them in iron manacles. Then, even as I
fought the chill iron, each of my ankles was snatched in the darkness and
chained, so that I stood, spread like DaVinci's drawing of the proportions
of man within a circle. Out of the dank blackness came the voice of the

"But surely my friend will wish to see as well as I do, and for that we
must have light." With a snapping sound and the acrid smell of brimstone, a
match flared, and presently the room was lit by a bank of oil lamps by the
wall. I was chained in the open air, between two stone pillars. I do not
wish to remember what horrible instruments that wavering light revealed to
me, the cruel fruits of thousands of years' study in the inflicting of
pain. Indeed, I turned my head from the sight, squeezing my eyes tight
shut, hoping perhaps, in the way of a child, that I might next open them in
my own bed. But it was not so. The Count stood close to me, so that I
felt the brush of his body hair against me, and the pressure of his member
against my thigh. "This is the room where my ancestor kept his collection
of whips," he said, in the tone of voice one takes when showing a guest the
family portraits. "Let me show you but a few."

"With such a scourge as this was made to bleed the one you call God's
Son; you can see that the hollow tips contain lead shot.

"Here is a gift from America, where I may someday go: it is called
'blacksnake'. A droll name, is it not so? Observe." He uncoiled the awful
thing, and as fully five feet of its length swished on the floor like a
deadly cobra I knew whence it was named, and I trembled. My voice
trembled, too, for all my brave words:-

"Flog me if you will, Count, I will not take your horrid bargain!"

He laughed again, casting aside the whip. "Foolish boy," he said, "I
have no need of whips to draw your blood, as you have learned! But my bite
is only for those whom I love. Feel now my claw!" And with this, he raked
those long nails across my chest, leaving four red furrows in their wake. I
gasped, and hearing me he said:-

"But come, we must have more satisfying sounds than that." So saying, he
knelt and drew one hand's nails down each of my thighs, slowly and deeply.
Agony like fire flowed through me, increasing with every inch, and a sound
rose in my throat that began as a groan and ended as a shriek.

My warm blood oozed onto my skin and began to cool there, and as I
panted, trying to control my voice, the Count stepped back and with great
deliberation put his lips around each fingertip to lick the blood from
under his nails. He smiled slowly, the smile of the wolf who sees his
prey. He moved to the table which held the lamps, and, still smiling,
poured out oil from a refilling vessel onto his great organ as pagan Romans
must have poured libation to their gods. Then, in one swift motion he was
behind me, his hands parted my buttocks and he slammed his member into my
body with such force that I was flung forward against the chains. The
chamber echoed with the ringing of iron and my own screams.

Amazing to tell! my flesh again responded to him. Despite the bite of
the iron, the cold flagstones under my feet, the force of his thrusts if
anything increased my desire. I writhed and strained in the chains, my
head whipping back and forth uncontrollably, my shrieks of pain gradually
transforming to passion.

Suddenly I stood alone; he had withdrawn, and I felt bereft.

I howled and my body thrashed vainly against the iron. It was only for
a moment, however; then he was kneeling before me and my throbbing manhood
slipped between those red lips and those sharp white teeth, into a mouth
moist and hot.

Never have I felt such sensations, neither before nor since! The
pressure and movement of his tongue, the occasional thrilling touch of
those carnivore teeth! Part of my mind may have feared that he would bite
the organ off, but that was overcome by my desire that he continue, come
what might. Indeed, all my pleading now was for him to keep on -- to suck
there as he had on my throat. Again! Again--!

Spent and shaking, I hung from the chains, unconscious of the strain on
my shoulders. He looked at me, licking his lips, and said:-


I could barely speak. "I cannot... Please... I must not..."

He took my stones in his hand and pressed gently, then harder. "You
will, Harker Jonathan," he said, as unimaginable sensations flooded me.
"You will one day. I have changed you; I have swallowed your essences, and
you will some day be unable to resist me."

"Please..." I could only whisper. "Please..."

"Please what?" he said mockingly. Then he rose and ran an inexpressibly
gentle hand through my hair, his voice now low and tender. "What would
you, beloved?"

What possessed me then, I do not know, for I heard my own voice, as from
a great distance, say:-

"Please, drink my blood again."

He looked long into my eyes, his own face unreadable. Finally, "I
will," he said. "I will."

First he pressed his mouth upon mine, looking always into my eyes, and I
myself was lost in the dark tarns of his eyes. Timidly I slipped my tongue
between his lips. The taste of his mouth was sharp, sweet and bitter as
blood, and feeling my tongue in his mouth he closed his eyes. He moved his
face gently away, saying:-

"Could my eyes produce tears, I would give them you now, beautiful,
tender beloved." Then he bent his head and I felt the sweet agony of his
long teeth sinking into my flesh. My heart's blood drained away into his
mouth and I was faint from it and from ecstasy. And I knew then that I
must love and desire him for all time.

But even so, I could not bring myself to consent to kiss his member, to
take inside myself his seed. He stood, arms akimbo, chuckling at my
weakness, and I turned my face away, pressing it against my arm.

At last the Count took my chin in his hand, forcing me to look at him.
His lips were red with my blood, his teeth pearl-white as my jism. He
laughed low, saying:-

"Do you think it matters to me where I get my pleasure? Spiritless boy,
I take where I will! And now I will go to your beloved England and take my
pleasure from those whom you love -- and you have made it possible!"

And then I knew little more, save a welling up of darkness, and his
awful laughter, though whether I was faint from loss of blood or from the
horror I cannot know.

I still cannot but pray that it was only a horrible nightmare, though my
rational mind -- and the evidence of my body -- tell me that yes, it was
so. May God give me strength! Though whether to resist him or to
surrender, I cannot decide -- I desire him! For all his terrible
splendour, I desire him! My body and soul desire him, and all that he can
do to me! Yet, for now I shall seal up these pages -- nay, I will tear
them out, though I must keep them. I will try to forget -- forget!

But I must follow him to the ends of the earth, and God only knows what
will happen then. One or the other of us will die to the life we had
known, of that only am I sure.


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