The heavy oaken door of the looming gothic mansion creaked open slowly, revealing a dimly lit foyer strewn with dust and cobwebs. “You are expected,” rasped the ancient butler standing in the portal, his stony features icily unmoved by the sight of the beautiful woman standing before him. Green eyes flashed as she reciprocated her dry welcome with a dazzling smile. “I’m so glad,” she replied, her voice lush with tones of poise and experience, “I’ve been so looking forward to meeting the Count.”

“Walk this way,” the mummified servant intoned indifferently, as he turned and shuffled toward the interior of the hulking abode. The blond women followed confidently, the tap of her heels against stone floors mingling with the echo of the entrance slamming shut behind her. After travelling down winding, murky corridors for several minutes they entered an expansive dining hall. The vaulted ceilings of the room were so high that in the dim light its top was not visible. Hunting trophies and dark-toned oil paintings of long dead European nobility festooned the walls. In the center of the room, seated at a long mahogany table, was an elegantly dressed man who appeared to be in his late forties or early fifties. As the woman approach he rose and bowed, extending out his hand in search of hers. “Goddess Marquesa,” he said in an accent that suggested Eastern Europe, “how delightful to finally meet you in the flesh!”

“The pleasure is mine, Count,” replied the Goddess, allowing her hand to be kissed by her host. The Count gestured to the place setting to his right, and Goddess Marquesa sat as he held her chair.

Taking his own seat, the Count said, “I am so glad that you could accept my invitation. I have been eager to express my thanks to you for helping me to find this residence here in California. Without you my move here from the Carpathian Mountains would have been very irksome indeed.”

“I’m happy to have been of assistance.”

As Goddess Marquesa spoke the ancient butler appeared at her elbow with a tray of small dumplings and began to place several of them onto the plate in front of her.

“Aren’t you eating?” she asked

“I have special dietary needs,” answered the Count, pointing to the glass filled with red liquid in front of him. “Tonight I may only partake of this special elixir. Please, eat! It gives me pleasure to watch my guests taste the food I can no longer enjoy. These are shlishkes, a native delicacy of my homeland.”

Goddess Marquesa forked one of the dumplings and raised it slowly to her mouth. “Mmmm,” she softly moaned, exaggerating the movements of her mouth and looking into her host’s eyes. “Delicious. I find good food and good company relaxing, don’t you?”

“Yes,” replied the Count, staring intently into the lustrous green eyes of his guest.

“Watching me relaxes you,” continued Goddess Marquesa, leaning in closer to give her host a fuller view of her face. “You find yourself focusing on my voice. As you watch me, and relax, you find yourself drawn more and more to me….my eyes….my breasts….my hands….my mouth…the scent of my perfume…More and more…deeper and deeper….you can’t take your eyes off of me….you can’t resist my voice….”

“Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha!” The laugh emerged from the Count’s throat, deep and sonorous. “I know of your so-called ‘powers,’ ‘Goddess’ Marquesa. In me you have met your match. I have been mesmerizing weak mortals like you since before your namesake, the Marquis de Sade, was a whelp. It is you who can not resist my voice.”

Goddess Marquesa gasped. The fork dropped from her hand. She stiffened in her chair and her face assumed a blank expression.

“Who controls you?” asked the Count.

“You do, Master,” replied Goddess Marquesa in a sleepy monotone.

“Very good, my sweet child,” gloated the Count. “I summoned you here as the spider does the fly. You are the only mortal here in my new land who knows of my whereabouts. I must thus feast on you to insure my privacy and security. It is a shame…you are very beautiful. I would like to keep you as my slave, like my witless butler, Gregor, but the risks are too great. Still, I would like to taste the pleasure of your flesh once before I destroy you. Rise! To my bedchamber!”

“Yes, Master,” intoned Goddess Marquesa. Stiffly she rose from her chair, and with the mechanical motions of a wind-up toy walked toward one of the exits to the dining hall as if impelled by another’s will.

Followed by her ghastly host, Goddess Marquesa walked dark corridors until she reached a black door. Pushing through this she came into a windowless room, empty except for a canopy bed.

“To the bed!” the Count ordered. Goddess Marquesa walked forward, her expression blank, until she stood beside the bed.

“Strip!” As her host watched, leering greedily, Goddess Marquesa unzipped her dress and pulled it off. Placing it on the bed, she stood covered only in her lingerie.

“Exquisite!” enthused the Count, eyes traveling over the Goddess’s legs and breasts. “Now lie down and I shall have my way with you.”

As Goddess Marquesa lay down on the bed, the Count undressed until his pale body was naked. Then he strode over and looked down at his victim. Running his fingers up her thigh, a slight moan of yearning escaped his lips. “Oooh!” he groaned. “You are so full of life and energy. It is a shame I can make love to you only this once. I have not been so stirred by a woman in centuries!”

The Count climbed onto the bed and took Goddess Marquesa into his arms. She accepted his embrace, and they entwined passionately, joined at the mouth and groin, undulating with a frenzied rhythm of desire. As his pleasure mounted the Count’s eyes dilated and he rolled onto his back so that he could achieve a fuller appreciation of the Goddess’s magnificent frame. Cupping her ample breasts in his preternaturally strong hands and feeling her weight bear down on his cock deliciously, he closed his eyes and moaned, “Oh dear God, that feels so good!”

“Not dear God…dear Goddess,” came a silken voice from above.

The Count opened his eyes to see the Goddess’s emerald orbs glaring down at him, a triumphant smile on her face.

“What?” he asked. “How can you be awake? I mesmerized you…”

“No, pet,” answered Goddess Marquesa. “It was I who mesmerized you. I used your desire for me to infiltrate your mind. You have been in my power this whole time.”

“No!” cried the Count. “You are very alluring, but only a mortal. I can rip you apart with my bare hands!”

“You could,” chuckled Goddess Marquesa, wriggling her hips and sending a shudder of ecstasy through the creature pinned beneath her, “but you won’t. You can’t. The pleasure I give you makes you my puppet. Now lie still. This will please you almost as much as it pleases me.”

With this, Goddess Marquesa reached behind the pillow and picked up the wooden stake that she had concealed there as she removed her dress. Still immobilizing her gasping prey with the motion of her hips, she asked, “Any last words?”

The Count’s eyes went wide. He stared at his hands as if trying to will them to do something other than savor the feeling of the gorgeous breasts they held. His expression a mixture of terror and uncontrollable delight, he looked yieldingly into Goddess Marquesa’s eyes and gasped, “I….I…I love you!”

Goddess Marquesa smiled. “Bless your heart,” she said as she plunged the stake into the Count’s chest. At that moment the Count exploded with pleasure, after which he simply exploded in a red geyser of fluid and tissue.

“S&%t.” groused Goddess Marquesa in mild irritation. “These stains will never come out.”


The End