Suggested by stories and films about an associate of the infamous Countess Bathory, the "Blood Countess."
Standing in the attic, Danielle studied the special table, chipped off flecks of dried blood with a delicate nail. She looked up at Victor, her already large dark eyes enormous and seemingly unnaturally bright. "Tell me about the last one you killed," she urged. "Tell me everything that happened, everything you did."
Victor sighed. "That was Cecilia. I brought her here, I told her to remove her clothes. You remember Cecilia--a beautiful child, only fifteen, very loving, very innocent, very obediant. She did as I bade her, and she laid down here when I told her to."
"And then?"
"And then, I drew out my knife--this knife." Taking a dagger with a long slim blade from its sheath, he showed it to her. "I leaned over her, and I told her that her days had come to an end, that she was about to die."
"What did she say?"
"She wept. She asked why, but I would not say. She begged me to spare her, but I refused."
"What did she do then?"
"Nothing. She wept, and she pleaded with me then not to hurt her too badly. Ah, she was a wonderful child, a splendid little girl! She wept but she did not scream, she begged but she did not try to run away, and she climbed up on the table and she stretched herself out when I asked her to. But then, she asked for something else, too."
"What was that?"
"She said she was a virgin, and she said she did not want to die a virgin. She asked me to deflower her before I killed her."
"And did you?"
He shrugged. "Could I not? Could I refuse such a request? No; I did as she asked."
Danielle was noticeably breathing harder. "Tell me... tell me all of it..."
Victor's eyes misted. "Ah, it was wonderful... I removed my clothes--I stepped away from her to take them off, I put the knife down, and yet she never moved. When I'd finished I came back, I told her to take my organ into her mouth. She did, she took it in deeply, she licked it with her tongue. Ah, her breasts--her breasts were so lovely, so soft... tiny pink nipples, erect and hard... I could not keep my hands off them..." He paused, shook his head. "Then I entered her. Her maidenhead burst, there was blood, bright red, beautiful... she cried and then moaned in her passion, her first passion, her last passion, her only passion. While we were coupled I kept telling her that as soon as we finished she had to die, and she told me she understood that...
I could not last long; I did not last long. Afterwards, I laid with her a moment. Then I got up, I got my knife, and I told her it was time now, time for the knife to find its way into her body, time for her to die."
"What did she say?"
"She was crying again, but she said, 'Be gentle with me, my master; kill me if you must, but kill me gently, kill me softly.'"
"And then you killed her."
"Yes."
"How? How did you do it?"
He looked down at the knife and shook his head. "She was lying there, lying still, her eyes full of tears, waiting, just waiting for me to act, for me to kill her," he said softly, his eyes misted even then. "I touched her breast with the point, and I laid my arm across the center of her chest, between her little breasts, and I stroked her face. As I was stroking her, I talked to her. And, while I was talking, I started pushing the knife into her chest."
"What were you saying?"
"I held the knife against her breast, gently, lightly, and I said, 'take a last deep breath, little one; then be very quiet, be very still, as I slip this blade into you.' She said, 'I will try, master.' And, then, I began to push the knife in. She shook when it began to enter her, she gasped, she moaned; I told her again to be still." He sighed again. "She answered me, too, she answered me even as the blade was slipping so softly into her. She said, 'I will; I am. Ah, master, master, it feels so hot, master, master, it hurts!' I said, 'Suffer it for me, my child,' and she nodded. It was very beautiful, Danielle. She was such a lovely child, she wept and she trembled like a flower in the wind, but she did lie still for me, she did lie still; she laid there--here--and she didn't move at all. I slipped this knife right on into her, she and I together watched each inch of this blade disappear into her lovely little breast; she was shaking, I can only imagine how much pain and fear she was suffering, but she did not move, she did not raise her hands to resist me, she allowed me to do to her what I wanted--no, no, what I needed--to do."
"What happened then?"
"I--I was overcome by her, by her courage--she was noble, yes, that's the word, noble. My hands were shaking--I pulled the knife out of her breast and ahhhh...! there was so much blood, it was so lovely, so lovely..." Again he paused, shaking his head. "I planned then to slip the knife into her once more, but, as I said, my hands were shaking, I could hardly control them. She saw what I was trying to do, saw that I was trying to bring the knife down to her belly, and she saw what trouble I was having. Do you know what she did?"
"No..."
"Ah, picture it if you will... a child, a mere child, stabbed deeply through her breast, her life's blood flowing out... a child dying and knowing quite well that she was dying... this wonderful child's eyes, full of tears, were so soft... somehow she understood me, and I believe, I believe, that in some way, in some mysterious way, my needs became her own..." He stopped again, composed himself. "She reached up to me," he went on finally. "To my hands, with one of hers; she touched me, she let her small fingers slip down the blade until she was holding it near the tip. Then she placed her other hand on her belly and pulled the knife--and my hand--down to it; she pressed the point, already covered with her own blood, down against her own skin..."
"What did you do then?"
"Nothing... not right away, I could not. As I have said, I was overcome. But she kept staring at me, she kept holding the point of the knife tightly against herself, and at last she said, 'Master, I am ready--push your knife into me, if that is what you must do...' Ah, I wept, I wept. I kissed her, I caressed her face. 'Child, child,' I said, 'you cannot know, you cannot... you are magnificent...'"
"And then?"
He sighed. "And then, I did indeed pierce her. I had to... it would all have been meaningless if I had not. While she moaned and sobbed, while I covered her face and her chest with my hot kisses, I so carefully, so slowly, so gently, slid this knife into her body. And, as it was sliding in, she kept holding her stomach and holding the blade, letting it pass through her fingers and into her body, helping me, guiding it for me..."
Danielle, clearly caught up in his story, sighed deeply. "And then? What did you do next?"
"I took the knife out of her, I let her blood run out, I held her to me; I did not really want to finish it as it should be finished, I wanted to hold her and kiss her until her life faded away."
"Did you?"
He shook his head. "No--no. She said she could not breathe, so I helped her to sit up; she sat with my arm around her, leaning on me. I told her then that it was time I finished it; she asked me how it was to end, and I told her, I told her it would end when I severed her head from her body. She told me she was ready, and again, she lifted my hand, she guided my knife to her throat, to her delicate and slender soft white throat, and she put her head back for me. She said to me, my neck is thin; you will have no trouble cutting through it."
"So you cut her throat."
"Yes. Slowly, gently, softly; I worked the blade in. She shook and she cried, the blood ran down over her chest and her legs; I kissed her, I stroked her hair, and I kept cutting until at last her blood was spraying out. I knew she was surely dying then, so I cut on quickly, I separated the bones of her neck and I pulled her head free; her body fell back on the table. I held her head for a long time; I wept over it for a long time."
Danielle licked her lips. "And now," she said quietly, "now, you have brought me up here. Is it my turn now? Am I to die?" Victor didn't answer immediately; he gazed at her steadily and fingered the knife suggestively.
The girl stared down at the floor. "I see," she murmured. "I see." With a long deep sigh, she moved her hands to her blouse and began undoing it. Victor watched as she undressed herself; she was truly lovely, her hair and eyes Gypsy-dark, her waist surprising slim under perfect rose-tipped breasts that stood high on her chest. Her legs were slender and long, her skin very smooth.
Nude, she stood before him and looked up at him. "I too will die for you, Victor," she said softly. "I will die for you, and gladly. Come; pierce my breast with your dagger, let my blood flow. But I too beg for the solace of your body as I am dying..."
Quickly, Victor stripped down as well; his already-rampant erection popped up. "Danielle," he whispered as he took her in his arms and kissed her. "Ah, my lovely Danielle..."
After a long kiss, she broke free and jumped up on the table. Still sitting up, she faced him and she reached for his hand, the one holding the dagger. Slowly, she pulled it toward herself.
"Here?" she asked, lifting her right breast with her other hand, offering it. "Is that where it is to go in?"
"Yes," he answered. "But, Danielle--didn't you want me to make love to you before--?"
"Not before," she said firmly. "Not before. Yes, I do, but, if I am to die here tonight, then first I want to know that I am dying--I want to be bleeding, I want to be in pain, ah, I want to feel the pain I know will give you pleasure--" Moving her eyes between his and the knife, she drew it on toward herself, finally planting the tip directly against her nipple. She cupped her breast up to meet it, and she leaned her body into it as well; her breast indented deeply.
"Ah, Victor," she sighed. "Ah, do it, do it, I'm ready for it, I really am... I'll guide it for you, just like Cecilia did... do it gently, do it slowly...!"
A sob escaped his lips; he leaned forward, he increased the pressure on the knife. Holding the blade as she'd promised, she too leaned forward--and, after a moment, the point broke through and the knife started sliding in.
As her blood started to spill out, she closed her eyes, turned her head slightly to one side, opened her mouth, and gave voice to a soft but high keening sound. The knife moved on, slipping inexorably through her fingertips and into her breast. "Oh, Victor," she moaned after a moment. "Oh, Victor, oh..."
"Danielle," he murmured. "Danielle, I know it's causing you pain, I--"
She opened her eyes. "I want to feel the pain, Victor," she whispered. "For you, for you... it's a good pain because I know what it means to you..." Sighing and moaning at the same time, she pushed her body forward against the knife. Victor pushed too, and the last inch of the blade disappeared into her breast.
Victor released the handle, pulled back from her a trifle; together they looked down at it. It was buried completely, the blade passing right through her nipple, the weight dragging her breast down a little. Blood ran steadily, in pulses, from around it.
"Is this what you wanted, Victor?" she asked, her voice quivering, her fingers touching the hilt gingerly. Wincing and gasping, she made an obvious effort to compose her face before looking up at him. "Is this the way it's supposed to be?"
He cupped her face in his hands. "It's beautiful," he told her. "Just beautiful."
Her fingers clutched at his shoulders. "I'm dying, Victor," she whispered. "I'm dying, I'm dying for you, I can taste the blood. Make love to me, Victor. Make love to me now!"
He reached for the knife. "Let me take this out first..."
"No! Leave it in me. Please, Victor, I want to feel it in me...!"
He hesitated, but eventually he nodded. Pushing her legs apart with his hands, he moved up between them; the table was at such a height that his erection was touching her groin. She scooted forward; she was very wet, he slipped himself into her quickly, easily. He arched his upper body over the knife to kiss her, and he caressed her uninjured breast gently. Gasping with pain as the blade moved around inside her chest, she kissed him back passionately and moved her hips against his.
"Is it good?" she asked, her eyes wide. "Is it good, is it as good as it was with Cecilia?"
He held her close. "Yes," he murmured. "But I have to take it out now, Danielle."
"And put it back. In my stomach? Like Cecilia?"
"Yes..."
She arched her chest; she managed a smile. "Take it out, then. I want it in my stomach."
He wrapped his fingers around the hilt; while she gasped and shook, he pulled it free, watching the increase in the flow of her blood. She in turn watched his face for a moment; then she reached out and took his hand, directing the knife down to her abdomen. Looking down at herself, she tucked the point right in the small indentation of her navel. Finally, she manuevered his hand around in such a way that the butt of the hilt was resting against his own belly.
Then she put her arms around his waist, and, with a hard and steady pressure, started pulling him closer to herself.
Once again, the blade broke through her skin; a trickle of clear liquid followed by a small amount of blood ran down toward her groin. "Oh, God, uhhh...!" she cried. "Oh, it's going in me, it's going in... oh Victor hold me, pull me close, hold me tight, tight..."
Letting go of the knife, he wrapped his arms around her and drew her on. She grunted, gasped, wept; a sudden surge of blood erupted from her belly. The softness of her abdomen offered the sharp steel little resistance; Victor kept pulling her and she him, and, once again, the whole blade sank right into her.
He pushed her upper body backwards, preventing her from falling by keeping one arm around her waist; the knife, blood running freely from around it, stood rigidly in her abdomen.
"You must finish it, Victor," she said softly after a pause. "Make it perfect, finish it--cut off my head." Nodding, he started pulling the blade out of her belly. With trembling hands, she swept her hair forward. "Cut my neck from the back, Victor," she urged. "Cut it slowly, slowly, slowly--I have heard that a woman tightens on a man most deliciously when her head is being severed..."
Again, he nodded; after bouncing her on his lap for a few more minutes, he laid the edge of the knife across the back of her neck. Sliding it across, he opened the skin; she shook and moaned when he cut through the muscles there, and she cried out softly when the blade grated against her spine.
"You cannot imagine," he told her, "the pain this is going to cause you..."
"It doesn't matter," she answered. "Do it, Victor."
"Ah, Danielle," he sighed. "So lovely, so loving..." Holding her tight, he forced the blade in a little, slipping it between two of her neck vertebrae.
Her eyes flew wide open and her whole body went rigid, her hands and feet trembling violently; Victor moaned as her vagina began to ripple on his penis. He worked the blade in further. "Die now, my sweet," he murmured. "Die..."
Her body quivered; roaring as his orgasm rose, he cut faster, harder, sawing into her neck. Blood spouting, her half-severed head fell forward; he separated it from her body with two quick slashes of his knife. As always, he kissed his victim's lifeless lips before laying her head aside.