I remember only that I'd been at the bar with some buddies; I'd had more to drink than usual. My buddies were gone, but for some reason I lagged behind. A tall dark woman was sitting with me; she was close, in my face, talking softly. Her words were beautiful, but I do not know what she said. I followed her out to her car; the fact that I was married to a loving wife never entered my mind. She opened the door to the back seat and slid in, beckoning me with her outstretched hand to follow. The car started, and I was faintly aware of a man with dark glasses behind the wheel. The long haired beauty entranced me with her eyes, her wet red lips, her kisses. She kissed me, long and hard, then gently bit my lips. One hand was at the back of my neck, gripping my head. The other was in my pants, slowly stroking me. The ride to her secluded house was long, or it was short. I do not know. Inside the house, she led me down to a stone-walled basement. In the middle of the huge empty basement was a lone bed, a cast-iron four poster. Chains dangled from the tall posts. The silent man had preceded us, lighting a few large candles. In the flickering light, I was led to the bed. As the temptress undressed me, the man in shades chained my wrists to the posts. My legs were then chained, spread apart and fastened to the footposts. I was becoming more aware of my female captor now; perhaps the hold she had on me weakened once I was bound. I looked at her beautiful face as she mounted my hardened cock. It was pale, which made the red lipstick seem brighter. Her eyes were dark, darkened more by black eye shadow. She pushed her long hair over her shoulders, then seductively opened her blouse. Creamy smooth breasts appeared, fulfilling the promise of her cleavage. She rode me until I thought I could take no more, and then suddenly the silent man was beside her, a pen knife in his hand. The state of mind I was in, from the alcohol, the frenzied sex, and whatever else she had imposed on me kept me from panicking. He brought the blade to her breast and made a small cut. It brought her back for a moment from her impending orgasm, and she looked down at me with hunger in her eyes. Grabbing my head with both hands, she brought her bleeding breast to my mouth. No coaxing was needed; I sucked long and hard, tasting her salty essence, swallowing all that I was given. I remember her screaming as she came, and I remember her sharing a bloody kiss with me. My orgasm began, and then all was black. I woke up in bed next to my wife, a strange taste in my mouth. The late morning light was bright, and I buried myself under the covers. Late in the day, my wife teased me about being out so late with my friends. "Trying to relive your younger years, are you?" she laughed. "But now that you're approaching 40, it's not as easy to get out of bed the next day, is it? Good thing it's Saturday!" I was not in an overly humorous mood. I felt so thick headed, and I couldn't remember a damn thing from last night. After dinner, around 8:30, the doorbell rang as we were watching a movie. I answered the door without turning on any of the lights. As I opened the door, I felt as if I were just waking up from a dream. There before me was my dark lover, as beautiful and pale as I now remembered. Beside her was the silent man, dark sunglasses as always. I stepped back, absent-mindedly motioning for them to enter. They walked right past me, into the living room where my wife sat. I closed the door and followed. I didn't hear the initial conversation, but the man and woman were sitting on either side of my wife when I entered. My wife looked at me, puzzlement and shock written all over her face; their bold approach had caught her by surprise. My dark lover was whispering in her ear when my wife's expression turned blank, then a mellow, almost sensual look appeared. The silent man removed his sunglasses and moved in close to whisper in my wife's other ear. I saw my wife lean back against the couch, her legs closed tightly together and then spread apart; her mouth opened halfway, and her breathing quickened. The entire time, I just stood there, watching this unfold in my own living room, the light of the silent television casting a blue glow over us all. Lavender. The name of the pale woman suddenly came to me. Lavender looked at me, her eyes seductive and commanding. She looked back at my wife, unbuttoning her shirt to expose her bare chest. The man slid his hand across her beautiful breasts, causing her nipples to rise. As his lips kissed her behind her ear, tongue softly licking, his hand moved down her belly inside her shorts. Lavender looked at me again, smiling a cocky smile. She made a motion with her hand; I knew it was for me to undress. As I stood there naked, I watched them remove my wife's clothing. Through my eyes now, she appeared as a young innocent, squirming in the heat of desire, ripe for sexual picking. My cock hardened as I watched these two strangers tease the sexuality rising in my wife. The man was kissing her deeply now, tongues deep inside each other's mouth. His hand was coated with her juices now, working her naked sex into a frenzy. Lavender produced a penknife, and this time it was the man's wrist that was cut. My wife suckled on his bloody wrist as if it was clear water to a dying man. As she sucked, he opened his pants and slid his slender cock into her in one motion. She cried out and opened her eyes for a moment. Through eyes slitted with desire, she looked me up and down, seeing my naked desire. Then she turned back to the stranger and fucked him like a wanton whore. Her hands grabbed his wrist, she sucked more blood, and smeared it all over her body. Lavender was at my side then; she pulled me to the floor, and straddled my cock. It was at her wet opening, but not in. She moved her hips in circles, teasing the tip. Her penknife played across my chest. "Do you want this?" her voice was soft and husky. At that moment, all supernatural control over me was gone. I had normal control over my senses again; but that's not to say that my sexual desire was not affecting me. I looked over at my wife, moaning and fucking intensely. "That's right, lover. Look at your wanton wife; she's a slut, fucking my Damien for all she's worth. Isn't it beautiful?" I looked back up at her, my mouth open to try to say something, anything to make sense out of this. At that point, she sank her wetness down onto my cock, enveloping me in heat. My open mouth could only groan as my breath left me, desire burning inside. "Oh, god..please...." She slid slowly up and down my cock. "Please? Please what, lover? Do you want this?" She smiled, confident in her power. I nodded, ashamed at my weakness. "No, say it. Tell me you want this." I couldn't fight it. "I want this." "Tell me you give yourself to me. Tell me anything. Anything I want. Tell me you belong to me now." I did. I begged her to take me, I begged her to use me. She asked for my wife, and I gave her up. As I begged, she turned my head to the side and used the blade to cut two slits in my throat. She sucked long and hard, fucking me the entire time. When I came inside her, she owned me. Sunday, my entire neck was a mess. It was black and blue, two "fang" marks swollen and vile looking. My wife was still in bed and didn't get up until mid afternoon. She was quiet most of the day, apparently lost in thought. I knew she couldn't remember anything of last night, but she never once asked about my neck. I'm not sure she even saw the wounds. It was 10:00pm before they arrived again, but this time they did not knock. They walked boldly right into the house, approaching us in the bedroom. Shock registered on my wife's face, but the memory of last night flooded into her. The man went to my wife's side of the bed and began to remove his clothes. He watched me as he undressed, never taking his eyes off of me. My wife opened up her nightgown as I just lay there watching.When he was naked, he smiled at me with his blood red lips and then turned his attention to my wife. "Watch your husband, my sweet. See what he has become." At those words, Lavender climbed up, lifting her dress to show her nakedness underneath. She lowered her bare cunt onto my face, and I obediently serviced her, liberally licking her entire area of sexual power. Tears welled up in my wife's eyes. "Yes, that's right, love. You now have a choice, just like your husband did." His hands were between her legs, expertly manipulating her desire. "What will it be?" She was panting, perhaps from desire, perhaps from the tears. Wordlessly, she reached up, hands around his neck, and pulled him down to her. It was a long, unbroken kiss, and I heard her grunt into his mouth as he entered her. Lavender came hard on my face and then sat back onto my chest. Once again, she produced her little knife. She smiled down at me, cocky and triumphant. Reaching over, she made two little incisions on my wife's throat, and Damien drank his fill. Two months later, my wife and I have moved into the basement of our Masters. We sold all of our possessions at an auction, sold the house, and quit our jobs. We live solely for the service of Lavender and Damien. We are kept locked inside a custom made double wide coffin during the day. At night, we are released to do the cleaning and upkeep of the house. We are also continually used for the sexual pleasure of our Masters, and they are more active than I ever could have imagined. Sometimes, Damien will open up the coffin in the middle of the day, climb on top of my wife and fuck her quickly, dumping his seed into her in less than a minute, looking at me the entire time. I can only lay there, arms crossed over my chest, watching. Other times, it could be a long elaborate ordeal, an all night orgy with their friends; those times, my wife and I are servants, made to provide the guests with anything they wish, be it food, drink or sex.