All it took was just one bite to addict me

Just a nibble
I touch the tip of my finger to his lips. “There are secrets in here. I want them out.”
― Tahereh Mafi, Ignite Me.

My secret~
The love of the bite can be the most intoxicating experience that you will ever feel. Some lick, some nibble, and others crave the feeling of skin bursting the moment the teeth lay claim. I am the one who desires the rush of blood, the scent of copper, and the pain. Yes, the pain gets me dripping with excitement.

The Halloween season is always my favorite time of year. The smell of pumpkins, children, laughing, and all those parties where no one knows who you are when you arrive. I try to attend at least once a year, but this year is different. An invitation came in the mail for a masquerade party. It’s not the usual note card that reads BYOB. The card engraved with my name gave an address that I knew, but only because it’s a local haunted house. It’s not the kind where a guy in a chainsaw mask chases you, but the real deal. I’ve always wanted to go inside, but a little angel is sitting on my shoulder, telling me to run away. I never followed my gut feelings until it’s too late.

I decided on a timepiece costume. It’s one from the turn of the century but sexy enough to attract a naughty ghost or maybe a demonic being. The one thing that came with the invitation was a mask to prevent anyone from knowing who you are. It’s a turn-on to think that I will never know who invited me or who the other guests are. It’s creepy but hot at the same time.

As I got dressed for the party, a small package arrived through a private messenger service—a small gold box and a key with a note inside.

“To make this a night to remember, the host has requested that you spend the night in the house. Enclosed, you will find a key to your room. Each room picked specific for the guest, so don’t be late.”

As I take the final look in my full-length mirror, a pang of fear creeps slowly up my spine, and the tension settles in my shoulders. No one I know has mentioned a word about this party, so who the hell could have planned this? At least if I die tonight, I look pretty damn good. My dress is a crimson shade of red, the front a corset bound by a black silk ribbon. I always have had a fantastic cleavage. This dress gives a new meaning to the word stunning. With my long raven hair pulled back into a cascade of curls, if one didn’t know better, they would think I belonged in a turn-of-the-century whore house. I’ve always thought that in my past life, I was a whore who the Ripper murdered. Who knows, maybe that’s has a lot of truth to it.

At sunset, I arrived at the old house that everyone called the spooky house. Cars lined up and down the street, none of them I recognized. Oddly enough, I still didn’t know who the host of this shindig was. I assumed, which I hate doing, that it was an ex-boyfriend who loved the paranormal stuff. We spoke many times about coming to this place and checking out what all the fuss was. We never did.

“Welcome to Jackson Manor. Please make sure you do not take off the mask anytime and keep the key in your possession. If you break the rule, you will be punished,” the butler said.

It was cute the way the house was all decorated to be extra scary and spooky. As I walked in, all eyes were on me. I swear I felt like a lamb going to the slaughter. The one thing that blew my mind was that I didn’t recognize anyone. Shouldn’t the eyes be a dead giveaway to at least one person?

A tray of crystal goblets traveled through the room filled with what I think is wine. It was red, so I assumed it was wine meant to resemble blood. I took a glass and did something I never do. I sniffed it. What the hell was I trying to smell? Blood? All I got was a nose full of alcohol with a slight drop of something fruity. One sip, and I knew it was nothing that I have ever tasted before. As the room temperature liquid coated my tongue, the tension of the evening seemed to lift from my shoulders. It was a party after all, but the best thing of all was that I was staying the night, so drinking was acceptable.

As the night dwindled, the need to explore was more of a craving than anything else. The walls of the house are a red crushed velvet design, the curtains heavy and dated. It was as though they restored the inside to the original design. I thought I would never be to decorate this way. I love it.

“Ma’am, please allow me to show you to your room,” said the servant or butler. Whichever was socially appropriate to say.

“Of course, but wait, who is responsible for this party? I’ve met no one tonight that I know,” I ask.

The male in the suit turned and walked up the spiral staircase, never looking back to see if I followed. Of course, my curious side and the fact that I was drunk lured me into the odd web of the unknown. As the door to my bedroom opened, I couldn’t help but gasp. The massive bed in the center of the room was held together by four-post. The intricate detail on the wood exquisite. A brush of my fingers on the dark oak and the door closed behind me without warning. It was then that I first felt frightened. He locked me in from the outside. My heart racing. I thought this was going to be the death of me. Was I kidnapped?

Banging on the door, screaming, “Let me the fuck out. Who the hell is doing this?”

My hand hit the door repeatedly, the palms red with pain. Why the hell did I allow myself to come to a party that I was clueless about the host? God, am I that lonely that I would endanger myself for a good time? Whoever was doing this, they have a sadistic side that’s scaring the crap out of me. I tried the door, the window, and even the little door on the ceiling that seemed to go to an attic. Everything bolted shut, but for whose protection?

Screaming at the top of my lungs, “LET ME OUT OF HERE NOW!”

My cries met with nothing but an eerie silence. I’m not too fond of silence. Ever since I was a child, I have feared locked rooms. A game of hiding n seek in the cemetery was responsible for that. Locked in a crypt for the night, I needed four years of therapy to get me to sleep with the lights off.

My attempt futile, I gave into the drunken state of mind, collapsing on the bed still fully dressed in the gown. I could cry, but why? If I slept it off, then when I woke, the door would be open, and tonight would all be a bad dream.

“Mmm,” moaning out as a cold sweep of air traveled up my thigh.

I squeezed my eyes shut. Nope, I wasn’t giving into this bad dream. Not after all the other crap going on. a shift in the bed, hands pushing up the gown, still not opening my eyes. It was one of those dreams. A naughty one that would leave me confused and horny. Whatever was in that drink had me hallucinating. I swear I wasn’t alone, but the door’s locked. Soft petal kisses up my inner thighs forced my hands to grip the sheets, knotting my fingers in the fabric. Nope, this is a dream. Nothing more than the vivid imagination of an intoxicated girl.


Oh god, this wasn’t a dream. I heard the hiss from beneath the full skirt of my dress, but there was nothing I could do, or would do, to stop it. My entire body was paralyzed with lust as the entity pulled my panties down, kissing and licking over my left hip.

I didn’t expect it to happen. I had no idea that was even coming. With its head pulled back, the next sound I heard was my screams. Teeth penetrating my flesh, the burst felt the moment the pain began. This creature bit me. No, he was biting me and devouring my sweet crimson nectar. I didn’t want him to stop. God help me. I want this monster to drain me dry of all the life in my body, but never to stop the cascading burst of heat that rushed through my veins. Biting is the most intimate act between two people. It is placing all of your trust into the hands of another, knowing they can end you, but they won’t. Crying out in orgasmic bliss, the waves of pleasure sent my entire being on a spiraling downfall into a pit of lust.

“Miss, miss, are you okay?” the woman asked.

With my fingers still attached to the sheets, the maid, or whoever this woman was, held a breakfast tray out for me. “Ma’am, I brought you some food before you leave. Please enjoy the meal, and the host sends his warmest regards. Please leave the key to unlock the door on the nightstand,” she added before leaving. I had the key all along?

Was it all a dream? The blood on the sheets and the perfect prints on my thigh will forever remain the best party ever.

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