The mansion looms quickly out of the pouring rain, one wing half in ruins. I dart into the cover provided by the porch, trying to calm myself and quell the heaving of my breasts. The wood of the doors gives way with a terrible splintering, falling into the entrance hall, and I tumble in afterwards. My waterlogged clothing did nothing to protect me, I can feel blood dribbling from one scraped knee, and I hiss in pain as I pick myself up off the stone floor. Despite the mansion's exterior appearance the entrance hall is intact and still has decorations. A painting of a stunning woman clad in a simple white tunic dominates from above the fireplace and worn tapestry flank the ground floor doors that would have led to the wings.
I stagger to the nearest of the chairs encircling a long table, dropping onto it heavily, and lean forward to rest my head in my hands. I'm lost, my car has broken down and is somewhere else, and I'm not going back outside until the horrid weather lifts.
A gust of wind against my back cuts through me and my shriek bounces round the entrance hall as I sit bolt upright, chilled almost to the core. Glancing around, as if there were people still living here, I strip off my soaked blouse and skirt, hurriedly approaching the fire with a mind to light it and use some of the chairs as fuel. The warmth when I do get the fire going is heavenly and I settle into a cross-legged pose, my clothing drying next to me.
I keep my gaze on the crackling fire, the portrait has an intensity to it that disturbs me, but the wind coming through the remains of the front doors makes some of the others rattle. I spin round when a door bangs loudly, torn open by a harsh gust, but in turning back towards the fire my eye is drawn up to the portrait. The woman seems to be glaring at me, a predatory gleam in her gaze, and I hurriedly lower my eyes. Another icy blast of wind races along the length of the entrance hall, catching my blouse and hurling it into the fire even as the flames dim. I scramble for my skirt as it too flutters in the strong breeze, pulling it on and then standing. The doors all rattle again but I refuse to look, concentrating on the fire.
I shriek again when I feel ice-cold fingers resting on my shoulders, shifting to twirl around when I spot actual fingers. Crushing pressure holds me in place, keeps me facing the fire, but then one hand is moved. The temperature of my skull drops dramatically, my head being tipped to one side, but I manage to squirm out of the creature's grasp, blood running down my right arm from where the creature's fingernails had dug in. He's huge, as tall as one of the doorways, and bulky, broad-shouldered with well-developed limbs. Aristocratic features watch me as my eyes dart about, amusement written on his face, and I panic when he steps forward, trying to duck under his reaching arms.
My attempt doesn't work, a hand is clamped tight around my throat. I'm hauled off my feet, dangling in mid-air as he looks at me from head to toe. A hint of cruelty is introduced to his amused expression, his free hand working to unbutton ragged trousers, and I'm momentarily dumbfounded when he lets me go, my mind screaming for me to run. Too late I realise that he wants to chase me but I'm already stumbling for the exit. I'm snatched up, his hand again round my throat, and he tears away my skirt and panties before slamming me down onto his cock. I cry out as I'm completely filled, his closing grip cutting the noise off, and can only choke as he roughly manhandles me.
His other hand is everywhere, groping my breasts through my bra, or rubbing the tip of his cock through my flesh. I'm drooling, eyes vacant of intelligence, as the pleasure overwhelms me and then I'm greedily inhaling precious air, the hand round my throat squeezing a breast. I orgasm as he bites down on my neck, swooning when he starts sucking my blood, and I feel the vibrations as he silently laughs. He keeps drinking, timing his inhalations for when he lifts me up, and I begin to feel woozy, uncoordinated. My eyelids flutter, I'm so tired, and I barely register as the crushing hold he has on my breast disappears. I flop forward bonelessly, no strength left in me, when he stops draining me and then I feel him explode with his own orgasm, triggering in me a second climax that's suddenly cut off.
---
Dante looks at the girl spasming on his cock. Her head has been twisted round, snapped so quick that death was instant, and she is looking back at him. Her expression is frozen in the moment of her orgasm, mouth slightly parted and eyes hooded. Dante steps back, dragging his cock from its velvety sheath of madly rippling muscle, and pants as he lets the last thick spurts of cum fall onto the girl's corpse, painting her back and ass.
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