When I was seventeen I was a psychiatric nurse. The psychiatric hospital, Queens Throne, was in the countryside, far from anywhere. But that afternoon my face was about three inches from Ellen Quantum’s cunt, so I knew where I was.

She was teaching me cunnilingus. We’d fucked twice in the last hour, so I was finally calm enough to consider other pleasures, and I was extremely willing to learn. At her instruction I slipped my hands under her ass, and lowered my lips and tongue to her cunt, nose more or less pressed against her clitoris.

She put her hand in my hair, and made sweet noises that told me I was on the right track.

But even with her thighs pressed against my ears I heard the sharp rap at the door. “Inspection!” Someone had run along the corridor to warn the nurses.

Ellen said, “Oh shit! Bastards!” My tongue was busy. She pulled me off her.

It was against the rules for a woman to have a man in her room, in the Womens Block of the Nurse’s Residence. We’d be expelled from the residence. I had a motorbike and could live somewhere else. But Ellen had no transport, and there was no accommodation near the hospital. She’d have to give up her career.      

So I pulled on my jeans and tshirt, and shoved my socks and underpants in my pocket while she hid my shoes. But when I reached her door I heard a man’s voice, officious, shouty. He and his entourage were already in the corridor, opening every door. 

So I went to the window and threw it open. There was a drainpipe about a metre away. We were three floors up. Ellen said, “That’s crazy! You’ll be killed!” 

But nobody says that to a seventeen-year old boy, not if they want him not to do something. I swung myself out, stood on her ledge, and jumped the last metre to the drainpipe. I caught it, and it supported me. I climbed down.

An inspector realised someone had made an unorthodox exit, ran down and shouted, “Stop!” But I was gone.

I saved Ellen’s career, but though I liked her, that wasn’t love.

But word of the Great Leap Downward got around, and the younger nurses approved. Female approval, especially sexual approval, was still fairly new for me, and it taught me what I did love. I loved women, and fucking, and cunts.

Carola had just told James Cerise, owner and director of Cerice Corp, to stick his job up his arse and fuck himself with it. Then she’d slapped the lecherous old gargoyle’s face, and taken the lift to the ground floor. But on the ground she saw young Frank Cerise clear security. She smiled radiantly at him and waved him over.

His face cleared. He knew his father’s secretary, and his eyes followed her like Mary’s lamb whenever they were in the same room. She’d never invited him to anything before. So he smiled and came over. 

Frank joined her. “Hi, Carola. How’s Dad?”

She kissed him passionately. “Shut up.”

He said, “Whuh?’ Carola took a thin strip from her purse.

“Hands out. Wrists together!”

He looked at her, frowning in disbelief.

She slapped him, not quite as she’d hit his father. “As you’re TOLD!”

“My god.” He held out his arms, and Carola quickly wound the plastic round his wrists, ending with a graceless but effective tie. She used her card to take the lift back up to his father’s floor, where it opened directly into his office. She was in luck; it hadn’t yet been cancelled.

“No gods involved. Now fuck me.” Carola pulled her skirt up and bent over, shoving her ass against his quickly stiffening cock.

He said, “Yes. Mistress?” There was a questioning tone to that last word.

Carola straightened, turned and slapped him again. “Mistress. You should know that.” She undid his pants, letting his cock free. She turned and bent again, and guided it between soft firm thighs.

He grunted with pleasure. “Oh, Mistress.”

She took his wallet and used his security card to stop the lift between floors. She dropped the wallet on the floor, but tucked his card into her bra. She didn’t want him to have it. Frank was rutting against her ass, trying to get his cock inside.

Carola stood. “No, boy. On second thoughts, get down on your knees. Get your tongue out for me.”

“Yes, Mistress.” When he was in place she used another thin strip to tie two of his belt loops to his shoelaces, so he couldn’t rise.

His cock poked out between the tails of his shirt. 

He was about  learn something about fantasies. Carola re-started the lift and sent it up to the next floor. She stepped out quickly, allowing it to continue its journey, up to James Cerise’s office. 

Helen Chandler felt hands cupping her ass and knew it was him. He whispered in her ear, “I vant to drink your blood.” 

She put her hands on his, but didn’t remove his hands from her ass. But she said, “Oh, cut it out, Bela. Mildly funny the first time, but…” 

Bela Lugosi sighed. “But we half been waiting for ze director now for… three hours. Are you not unott?”

She nodded. “My trailer. Smaller than yours, but less… public.”

“I will giff you fife minutes.” His Hungarian account got thicker when he wanted sex. She wondered if it was deliberate.  

In her trailer Helen rook off her silken robe, all she was wearing. She lowered herself to her knees. She wondered if she found it so easy to submit to Bela because her character, Minna Seward, was so submissive to the Count. They made their scenes together as sexual as they dared. 

The door opened, and Bela stepped in, using his cloak to prevent the film crew from seeing her naked, kneeling form before he closed the door.

He said nothing, but took her hair and pressed her towards him. Her mouth opened, and she took in his engorged cock, the head touching the back of her mouth, finding its way into her throat. She closed her eyes and sucked fervently, wanting to hear the tribute of his gasp.

There was something perverse about this, his cock engorged with blood, within the cage of her teeth. He was supposed to be the one with fangs, the one who fed on blood. But the urge to bite that delicious blood-hard cock, to taste that blood: that was getting stronger every day.