FANGS AND FOREPLAY… THE EROTIC ADVENTURES OF DRACULA: THE TRANSYLVANIA YEARS. BOOK 5- PART 4. AN EROTIC HORROR NOVEL BY SANDRA HARRIS. ©

WK-Screen.2.8

INTRODUCTION TO BOOK 5.

The year is 1891, and Count Dracula and his sex-and-spanking-crazed harem of beautiful handmaidens are still camped out in Dracula’s ancestral castle in Transylvania. Dracula’s brother Vladimir’s head currently adorns a spike on the castle battlements. His brother Nikolai’s head, while for the moment still attached to his shoulders, is filled with resentment for Dracula and a continuing desire to depose him as head of the family.

Dracula’s wife Anna and his mistress –– and cousin –– Carmilla are each jockeying for position as his Number One squeeze, and he has two newly-acquired sons he doesn’t have a clue what to do with.

Meanwhile, the genteel young ladies of the nearby Miss Peabody’s Exclusive Academy For The Education And Refinement Of The Daughters Of Gentlefolks are all still waiting impatiently for Dracula to fly through their bedroom windows at midnight, to endow upon them the sexual awakening of a lifetime and an introduction into Dracula’s twilight world of pleasure deliciously commingled with pain.

Add to this his demanding mother, his four sex-mad sisters, his temperamental nude handmaidens and a cartload or two of angry villagers, and you might just have an idea of why, for this year at least, Dracula’s dance-card is fully filled out…

This book, as all the ‘ANNA’ books are, is based on characters created by fellow Irish authors Bram Stoker and Joseph Sheridan Le Fanu, and is dedicated with much love to the late Sir Christopher Lee, whose performances in the HAMMER ‘Dracula’ films inspired every word of it. May he rest in peace… until he rises once more from the crypt in which he rests…

FANGS AND FOREPLAY… THE EROTIC ADVENTURES OF DRACULA: THE TRANSYLVANIA YEARS. BOOK 5- PART 4.

AN EROTIC HORROR NOVEL BY SANDRA HARRIS. ©

Magdalena woke before it was light. Shivering in the pre-dawn chill, she sat up in bed, yawned and shook Leon by the shoulder. He grunted and turned away, too cosy and comfortable to want to bestir himself at this outrageous hour.

‘Come on, lazybones,’ she said, grinning. ‘You don’t want your old man to be coming in here and finding you in my bed, do you?’

‘Just another half hour, Mags,’ he mumbled. ”S not even light yet.’

‘Suit yourself, your lordship,’ she teased, getting out of bed and lighting the candle before tiredly pulling on the undergarments, skirt, blouse and little boots of the night before.

When she was dressed, she stood in front of the bit of mirror on the wall and pinned up her masses of long wavy brown hair as best she could with pins and combs. Leon loved her hair. He said it was wild and tawny-coloured, like a lion’s mane.

She went then to open the curtains at the room’s one window, only to remember with a shudder that it was still dark outside. She had an absolute horror of looking out her window while the night still held sway and seeing one of the deathly pale-faced occupants of the castle staring in at her greedily, with their long white fangs bared and ready to tear her soft white skin to pieces.

Not that she’d ever seen such a horrible sight with her own eyes, but there were those who had, and Magdalena prayed every morning and night that such would never be her own lot. Let that lazy lump Leon open the curtains at the little barred window when he got up, if he ever did. He’d really exerted himself last night, going to his usual lengths to satisfy Magdalena, whose sexual appetite was a positively voracious one.

Magdalena then quietly left her ground floor bedroom and went straight to the hostelry’s main bar, where she knew that, late last night, she had left some little jobs of tidying up and cleaning to be done in the morning. Well, now it was morning and it was time to pay the piper.

Every day when she started her shift, she promised herself that she would not finish and go to bed till the bar was spotless, and then she’d be free to sleep late in the morning. However, the road to hell being paved as it is with good intentions, every night when she clocked off she was so tired she could barely see straight and her chores were all left till the morning, as usual. 

With a weary sigh, she turned to the cupboard where she kept her mop and bucket and cleaning cloths. She had just opened it when a hand was clamped down suddenly over her mouth from behind, a strong male hand, and Magdalena felt herself being lifted off the ground and carried in the direction of the inn’s underground cellar, where they kept the barrels of ale and bottles of wine and other beverages for the bar.

She struggled wildly but the hands that held her were too strong. Her captor’s booted foot kicked open the cellar door and then kicked it shut again behind them. Magdalena was set roughly on her feet but, disorientated, she stumbled and fell to the rough earthen floor. She scrambled to her feet, though, quick as a flash, and walloped her captor with all her strength across his face. Ivor, Leon’s father, slapped her straight back without hesitation.

‘You bastard!’ she cried, flying at him and pummelling at his broad chest in a fury. ‘You scared me half to death, you did. I thought you was the bloody vampire, come to get me!’

‘What would the vampire want with the likes of you, Maggie?’ Ivor said with a grin as he held her wrists fast to prevent any more blows being rained down on him. ‘You’re too much of a peasant for him. He likes ’em classy, high-born, with blue blood in their veins. That’s what he likes.’

‘He took Agnes, Old Amos the shepherd’s daughter, didn’t he, and I daresay her blood was the same colour as mine!’

‘You know you’re beautiful when you’re angry, Maggie?’ Ivor said, releasing her wrists and pulling her towards him for a long, passionate kiss on her parted lips.

Magdalena resisted at first, holding herself taut and rigid with tension, then with a long sigh she gave in and kissed him back with just as much passion and fire. She put up no resistance when he bent her forwards over one of the barrels and lifted her voluminous bronze-coloured skirts.

Next, her drawers, discarded so recently for Ivor’s son Leon, came down and Ivor’s cock, stiff and ready, pushed itself in between her parted thighs while his hands moved round to the front of her blouse to undo the buttons and free her magnificent big breasts. Her hair came tumbling loose from the pins and combs that confined it and the pins and combs fell unheeded to the cellar floor.

Magdalena moaned out loud as the thrusts started to come fast and hard, and Ivor put his hand over her mouth to keep her noise from disturbing Leon. Magdalena lived in dread of Leon’s ever finding out about her sordid little affair with his father, the inn-keeper. Living in such a small place together as the three of them did, she was surprised he hadn’t discovered her nasty secret already.

She felt bad about what she and Ivor were doing, but Magdalena was drawn to the security that Ivor, as the town’s inn-keeper, represented. He had promised her marriage and security for life if she would only choose him over Leon.

Ivor, a mature man of fifty-two, was only twenty-four years older than his son and was still an attractive enough man with all his own teeth and hair. That, and his tavern, were big draws for the orphaned Magdalena, who’d had to make her own way in the world from an early age.

Who knows, she often thought, maybe I’m attracted to him because I never had a proper father? I’m drawn to Ivor because he’s a father and the right age, with his own home and business, and he can take care of me for the rest of my life if he wants to, and it’s up to me to make sure that he wants to. But what about Leon? Where does he come into all this?

Magdalena loved Leon in a way in which she knew she could never love Ivor. Leon was handsome and loving and made her laugh and she loved him with all the passion of her woman’s heart. He would be devastated if he knew that she was sleeping with his father, of all the men in the world.

Ivor, of course, knew that she was sleeping with Leon and, while he couldn’t prevent it, exactly, seeing as how both parties were grown adults of nearly thirty, he made it clear every chance he got that he didn’t approve.

Leon was of the opinion that his father didn’t approve of his relationship with Magdalena because she was a humble barmaid and not good enough for his son. He had no idea that Ivor wanted the beautiful, passionate Magdalena for himself. Such a vile, low thing would simply never occur to him unless he were faced with incontrovertible proof.

‘I’m going to cum now, woman,’ grunted Ivor, ‘so you keep yourself nice and still now,’ and so Magdalena braced herself for the final volley of thrusts.

Afterwards, when her clothing was straightened and she’d scrabbled around on the cellar floor for her pins and combs, she said: ‘Don’t you be pawing me behind the bar or trying to get me on my own today. I don’t want your Leon getting suspicious.’

Ivor scowled. She knew full well what he thought of her relationship with his son, how jealous it made him, but there was nothing she could do about it for now. Magdalena flounced out of the cellar, doing up the buttons of her blouse as she went.

It was now light outside at last, and she unlocked and unbolted the front door and stood it open so she could sweep and scrub the step before the bar opened for the day. Those stinking garlic flowers would all have to come down too and be replaced before nightfall. They didn’t half reek. Wrinkling her nose at the foul stench, she fetched her broom and prepared to sweep the step prior to scrubbing it.

To her surprise, there was a letter on the step. A letter in a big creamy-white envelope. Magdalena picked it up and turned it over uneasily in her hands. It was addressed to ‘Mrs. & Mrs. Edward Wintergreen’ in a beautiful copperplate hand, and the seal on the back was the seal of the House of Dracula…

AUTHOR BIOGRAPHY OF SANDRA HARRIS.

Sandra Harris is a Dublin-based novelist, poet, short story writer and film and book blogger. She has studied Creative Writing and Film-Making. She has published a number of e-books on the following topics: horror film reviews, multi-genre film reviews, women’s fiction, erotic fiction, erotic horror fiction and erotic poetry. Several new books are currently in the pipeline. You can browse or buy any of Sandra’s books by following the link below straight to her Amazon Author Page:

http://www.amazon.com/-/e/B015GDE5RO

You can contact Sandra at:

sandrasandraharris@gmail.com

https://www.facebook.com/SandraHarrisPureFilthPoetry

https://sandrafirstruleoffilmclubharris.wordpress.com

http://sexysandieblog.wordpress.com

http://serenaharker.wordpress.com

https://twitter.com/SandraAuthor

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FANGS AND FOREPLAY… THE EROTIC ADVENTURES OF DRACULA: THE TRANSYLVANIA YEARS. BOOK 5- PART 3. AN EROTIC HORROR NOVEL BY SANDRA HARRIS. ©

drac stairs

INTRODUCTION TO BOOK 5.

The year is 1891, and Count Dracula and his sex-and-spanking-crazed harem of beautiful handmaidens are still camped out in Dracula’s ancestral castle in Transylvania. Dracula’s brother Vladimir’s head currently adorns a spike on the castle battlements. His brother Nikolai’s head, while for the moment still attached to his shoulders, is filled with resentment for Dracula and a continuing desire to depose him as head of the family.

Dracula’s wife Anna and his mistress –– and cousin –– Carmilla are each jockeying for position as his Number One squeeze, and he has two newly-acquired sons he doesn’t have a clue what to do with.

Meanwhile, the genteel young ladies of the nearby Miss Peabody’s Exclusive Academy For The Education And Refinement Of The Daughters Of Gentlefolks are all still waiting impatiently for Dracula to fly through their bedroom windows at midnight, to endow upon them the sexual awakening of a lifetime and an introduction into Dracula’s twilight world of pleasure deliciously commingled with pain.

Add to this his demanding mother, his four sex-mad sisters, his temperamental nude handmaidens and a cartload or two of angry villagers, and you might just have an idea of why, for this year at least, Dracula’s dance-card is fully filled out…

This book, as all the ‘ANNA’ books are, is based on characters created by fellow Irish authors Bram Stoker and Joseph Sheridan Le Fanu, and is dedicated with much love to the late Sir Christopher Lee, whose performances in the HAMMER ‘Dracula’ films inspired every word of it. May he rest in peace… until he rises once more from the crypt in which he rests…

FANGS AND FOREPLAY… THE EROTIC ADVENTURES OF DRACULA: THE TRANSYLVANIA YEARS. BOOK 5- PART 3.

AN EROTIC HORROR NOVEL BY SANDRA HARRIS. ©

While his father Ivor, the innkeeper, slumbered in his bedchamber above the bar of the village’s one hostelry, Leon was climbing into bed with Magdalena in her little box-room at the rear of the inn. Her ground floor bedchamber had bars at the windows, artistically wreathed with garlic flowers, to keep out the strange, pale-faced occupants of the castle.

Magdalena had already shed her clothing and welcomed him with open arms as always. After they had greeted each other enthusiastically with kisses, however, she suddenly burst out with: ‘Why did you have to bring them here?’

‘What? Who, Mr. and Mrs. Wintergreen?’ said Leon, surprised. ‘Whatever do you mean, Mags? You don’t mean to say that I should have left ’em outside on the street for the vampires to take?’

‘Well, why not?’ she replied sulkily. ‘We don’t owe them nothing, after all. We don’t know them. Why should we put ourselves at risk for them? A couple of foreigners, who don’t care tuppence for the likes of us. Probably look down their aristocratic noses at us for not having their fancy airs and graces and posh table manners.’

If Magdalena sounded bitter, it was because she was. Born to a poor family and cast adrift at a painfully young age to fend for herself, her situation as barmaid in Ivor’s Tavern, with her meagre meals and lodgings thrown in for free, was the highest position she had ever attained in all her twenty-eight years. She had been desperately jealous of the Wintergreens, especially Mrs. Vanessa Wintergreen.

The young married woman, sedately enjoying her honeymoon with her well-to-do, attractive older husband, had been beautifully dressed and turned-out and, despite being covered in the dust of the road, had presented a charming picture when Leon had called the pair in off the street.

With her shiny blonde hair piled up elaborately on top of her head and her dark red wine-colored travelling coat with matching furry muff for her little hands, hands that doubtless had never seen real work (unlike Magdalena’s coarse, work-roughened fingers), Mrs. Wintergreen had made a most appealing sight. No wonder Leon had wanted to save her, at least, from the loathsome curse of the vampire.

‘Don’t tell me you’re jealous, Mags!’ Leon exclaimed.

He began to tickle her under her arms to force a giggle or even a smile out of her. He knew how touchy she could be on the subject of other women, women who might tempt her beloved Leon away from her.

It was bad enough that she worried incessantly about Leon and the other women in the village, but the sight of this elegant, petite, richly-dressed hothouse flower from England must have been a bitter pill indeed for her to have to swallow.

‘You know you don’t have to be jealous of her, Mags. You’re a better looker than she is any day of the week. For a start, your titties are about twice the size of hers. Upon my soul, hers are like little bee-stings, and yours are big, juicy generous melons what never stop giving.’

He squeezed her big bare breasts and fondled the nipples which stiffened swiftly under his touch. She started to relax against him and Leon began to breathe more easily, thinking her huff was over, then he was surprised and hurt when she pushed him away.

‘What is it now?’ he said, exasperated.

She pouted, then said: ‘And I didn’t hear you introducing me to your fancy English friends as your fiancée, neither.’

‘Jesus, Mags! That’s supposed to be our little secret, isn’t it? Why would I tell a couple of complete strangers our own private business?’

‘So that snooty Mrs. Wintergreen would look at me like I was a someone like her, instead of a nobody what wasn’t even as good as the shit on her shoe from the road.’

‘Jesus, Mags! The stuff what goes on in your head! Mrs. Wintergreen wasn’t looking down on you. She was too busy trying to get a bath and a hot meal organised to have time for looking down on us, and so was her husband. Anyway, they’ll both be on their merry way tomorrow when they realise there’s nothing here for them and they’ve only wandered this way by mistake, like. We won’t never have to see or hear from them again.’

‘That’s what you think, Leon! I think differently, and that’s all there is to it.’

She turned her back on him in the bed but he wasn’t standing for it. He pulled her, squirming and protesting, into his arms once more and began to stroke the soft brown bush of hair between her thighs. Soon she was sighing in pleasure and melting against him, which was exactly what he wanted. He could always settle Magdalena down with the touch of his clever fingers and his deep, searching kisses.

‘You know what I’d love?’ he said lazily after a while, after he’d given her an orgasm by stroking her pussy the way she liked.

‘What?’ she giggled, snuggling into his bare chest.

‘For someone to suck me off,’ he said, making his voice sound all wistful and dreamy.

‘You’re wicked, you are, Leon!’ she laughed but she slid down the bed nonetheless and took his hefty male appendage first between her fingers, and then into her mouth.

Leon lay with his eyes closed, his hands clasped behind his head and an expression of bliss on his handsome face. Magdalena might not have had a dark wine-red travelling coat with matching furry muff for her little hands, but she certainly knew how to suck a cock. She was better at it than any woman Leon had ever known, and he’d known a few.

‘I bet Mrs. La-di-dah Wintergreen doesn’t do this type of thing for her lord and master,’ Magdalena said, taking a break from her enjoyable task for a moment.

‘No, not her,’ said Leon, laughing. ‘Do you know that when I went up earlier with their luggage, they was both sitting up in bed drinking the hot milk what you brought them up and wearing matching nightshirts? Hers was buttoned right up to her chin. He even had a nightcap on his head, if you can credit it, and him still a young man what’s not much older than me!

‘They’ll be in bed now together all right, and he’ll be on top of her saying excuse me, m’dear and do you mind awfully if I trouble you for a moment…? and she’ll be lying there all ramrod-straight in her prim, buttoned-up nightgown, buttoned right up to the top, mind, saying of no, of course not, dear, you must do as you please and all the rest of it, and the bed will creak ever-so-politely for a moment or two and then that’ll be that. That’s the English way, you know. Reserved, cool, polite. Lie back and think of England. It was ever so, with them English.’

‘A funny way to think of sex,’ Magdalena giggled irreverently. ‘Almost as if it were just another boring chore to be got over and ticked off a list.’

‘Not like us red-blooded Transylvanian men,’ Leon said, taking back ownership of his swollen cock and climbing on top of her, preparing to effect a full-frontal entry. ‘Here in our wild, hagridden country, we take the bull by the horns and the woman by the… well, you know by what!’

‘And thank God for it!’ prayed Magdalena fervently. Then she groaned out loud, a groan of deliciously leisurely pleasure that gladdened Leon’s heart to hear it. Entry had been successfully effected.

AUTHOR BIOGRAPHY OF SANDRA HARRIS.

Sandra Harris is a Dublin-based novelist, poet, short story writer and film and book blogger. She has studied Creative Writing and Film-Making. She has published a number of e-books on the following topics: horror film reviews, multi-genre film reviews, women’s fiction, erotic fiction, erotic horror fiction and erotic poetry. Several new books are currently in the pipeline. You can browse or buy any of Sandra’s books by following the link below straight to her Amazon Author Page:

http://www.amazon.com/-/e/B015GDE5RO

You can contact Sandra at:

sandrasandraharris@gmail.com

https://www.facebook.com/SandraHarrisPureFilthPoetry

https://sandrafirstruleoffilmclubharris.wordpress.com

FANGS AND FOREPLAY… THE EROTIC ADVENTURES OF DRACULA: THE TRANSYLVANIA YEARS. BOOK 5- PART 2. AN EROTIC HORROR NOVEL BY SANDRA HARRIS. ©

drac unknown woman

INTRODUCTION TO BOOK 5.

The year is 1891, and Count Dracula and his sex-and-spanking-crazed harem of beautiful handmaidens are still camped out in Dracula’s ancestral castle in Transylvania. Dracula’s brother Vladimir’s head currently adorns a spike on the castle battlements. His brother Nikolai’s head, while for the moment still attached to his shoulders, is filled with resentment for Dracula and a continuing desire to depose him as head of the family.

Dracula’s wife Anna and his mistress –– and cousin –– Carmilla are each jockeying for position as his Number One squeeze, and he has two newly-acquired sons he doesn’t have a clue what to do with.

Meanwhile, the genteel young ladies of the nearby Miss Peabody’s Exclusive Academy For The Education And Refinement Of The Daughters Of Gentlefolks are all still waiting impatiently for Dracula to fly through their bedroom windows at midnight, to endow upon them the sexual awakening of a lifetime and an introduction into Dracula’s twilight world of pleasure deliciously commingled with pain.

Add to this his demanding mother, his four sex-mad sisters, his temperamental nude handmaidens and a cartload or two of angry villagers, and you might just have an idea of why, for this year at least, Dracula’s dance-card is fully filled out…

This book, as all the ‘ANNA’ books are, is based on characters created by fellow Irish authors Bram Stoker and Joseph Sheridan Le Fanu, and is dedicated with much love to the late Sir Christopher Lee, whose performances in the HAMMER ‘Dracula’ films inspired every word of it. May he rest in peace… until he rises once more from the crypt in which he rests…

FANGS AND FOREPLAY… THE EROTIC ADVENTURES OF DRACULA: THE TRANSYLVANIA YEARS. BOOK 5- PART 2.

AN EROTIC HORROR NOVEL BY SANDRA HARRIS. ©

‘Pssst! Over here! Get in, quick, it’s after sundown!’

‘What on earth…?’ said Edward Wintergreen, helping Vanessa down from their one-horse carriage. They had come to a halt outside the village’s one inn, with the intention of putting up there for the night as they were dusty from the road, tired and hungry. But now it seemed as if the inn were coming to them. The door to the place had opened a crack and a man was beckoning to them urgently through this crack.

‘All right, all right!’ Edward said with a laugh, ushering his wife through the gate and across the small courtyard to the door which stood ajar. ‘There’s no panic, is there? They must really want our business,’ he added in an aside to Vanessa, who smiled back. ‘I’m not altogether surprised, given how isolated the place is, and the fact that it’s not even on the bally map. Now then, now then, what’s all the fuss?’ He directed this last remark to the man who’d been frantically gesticulating at them to hurry up and get in.

‘For the love of God,’ said the man, whom the Wintergreens could now observe was young and quite handsome, ‘will you both get in here? There’ll be time for explanations later. For now, will you both just please get inside?’

When the young couple were safely inside the inn, the man shut and bolted the door, then he did the most extraordinary thing. He picked up a garland of garlic bulbs and flowers that lay on a nearby table and hung it on a nail on the door.

Vanessa immediately thought of the man she’d observed just moments before doing the exact same to his own window, with a look of the most abject terror on his face. Then, the young man, their curious host, turned to them with a shaky grin.

‘There,’ he said, ‘that’s done for another night. Now, can I get you good people something to drink?’

Vanessa and Edward could see now that they were in the public bar part of the inn. It was large enough and comfortable enough, with wooden tables and benches scattered with hand-embroidered cushions dotted about the room. A fire in the grate burned brightly and made the place look welcoming. At the mention of drinks, the young couple realised how thirsty they were after hours spent on the bumpy roads of Transylvania.

‘A glass of wine for my wife, please, and a whiskey for me,’ Edward said, rubbing his cold hands briskly before the fire while Vanessa gazed at him admiringly. Edward always knew the right things to say and do in any given situation. He was so confident and strong, so worldly and sophisticated and he knew so many different things. No wonder she adored him!

Now Edward was saying to their host, while a young woman Vanessa hadn’t noticed before, a woman with long messy hair and a busty figure, stepped behind the bar to pour them their drinks: ‘So, I’m Edward Wintergreen and this is my wife Vanessa. We’re from England, you know, English? We’re travelling through these parts by way of a honeymoon.’

‘Newly-weds, eh?’ said the young man in a most congenial fashion. ‘Magdalena, d’you hear that?’ He turned to the sullen-looking woman behind the bar. She looked as if it were a matter of supreme indifference to her what the young couple were and what they liked to drink. ‘We’ve got ourselves a couple of honeymooners. Give ’em double measures, will you?’

‘Why, that’s very kind of you,’ said Edward, looking pleased. ‘But… but if you don’t mind my asking, why all the garlic flowers and the locking and bolting of the doors and the rather panicky way in which you summoned us inside? What the devil is the situation here?’

‘Well you may say devil,’ gloomily replied the man, who was called Leon, with a meaningful glance at the barmaid. ‘The devil is the right word for it an’ all.’

Edward and Vanessa looked at each other, puzzled. When it was clear that there would be no more information forthcoming from Leon with regard to Edward’s first question, Edward chanced another: ‘And why is your village so quiet and deserted-looking, and why on earth is it not on the map? What have you people got to hide here?’

The man called Leon remained silent, but the woman, whom Vanessa had been watching with open curiosity, cast her eyes upwards, out the window and up towards that towering edifice atop the mountain, the black-silhouetted castle that had so disturbed Vanessa when she observed it first.

In the woman’s sulky face was the same expression of abject terror she’d seen on the face of the peasant festooning his kitchen window with garlic flowers. Vanessa felt an icy finger trailing down her spine, and she shuddered audibly.

‘Oh, just a goose walking over my grave!’ she trilled with a light laugh she was far from feeling when the assembled company looked at her. The woman Magdalena was staring at Vanessa curiously.

She knows I know, thought Vanessa suddenly. She knows I know where this awful sense of foreboding and disquiet is coming from, and it makes her feel like she is not alone in whatever this is to have me know it too.

‘I’ll need my horse stabled for the night too, of course,’ Edward was saying now to the man, ‘and our luggage is in the carriage.’

‘It’ll all have to wait till morning, I’m afraid,’ said Leon. ‘Being as we can’t step outside the house now it’s dark.’

‘What the devil do you mean?’ exclaimed Edward. ‘Genevieve needs food, water and a rub-down after her long journey before she can be bedded down for the night! She’ll be sick otherwise. And my wife needs her things! Why cannot these things be done tonight?’

Leon mumbled something unintelligible and looked down at his shuffling feet.

‘Well, I’ll do it myself in that case!’ said Edward, making for the door. Vanessa looked at him fondly. What a temper he had once he was roused! He was magnificent.

‘Don’t touch that door!’ snapped Leon. Edward stared at him. ‘I’ll… I’ll do it myself,’ said the young man grudgingly. ‘If you’re going to put it like that, like. I’ll stable your horse and bring in your luggage myself. Just, for pity’s sake, don’t open any doors or windows or take down the garlic wreaths what I’ve put up. There’s reason enough for it all, even if I can’t rightly tell you what it means.’

‘They’re all barking mad in this bally village,’ Edward said, bemused, when they were finally alone in the upstairs bedchamber to which Magdalena had brought them. They had had a hot supper of stew and bread downstairs which had been more than adequate for their needs, and they had their luggage now too, brought up to them by a wild-eyed, wild-haired Leon, gasping as if he were out of breath. Surely it was not the few steps upstairs that had thrown him, a young fit man like that!

The bedroom was plainly furnished, but clean. Everywhere reeked of the garlic wreaths at the windows. Edward took Vanessa in his arms. ‘Still, at least we’re here now and we’re alone and I can do what I’ve been wanting to do all day. Make love to my beautiful wife at last.’

Vanessa submitted gratefully to his warm, strong embrace. It did nothing to still her uneasiness, however, when she realised that, if she peeped over his shoulder and craned her neck a little while he held her, she could clearly see the castle.

AUTHOR BIOGRAPHY OF SANDRA HARRIS.

Sandra Harris is a Dublin-based novelist, poet, short story writer and film and book blogger. She has studied Creative Writing and Film-Making. She has published a number of e-books on the following topics: horror film reviews, multi-genre film reviews, women’s fiction, erotic fiction, erotic horror fiction and erotic poetry. Several new books are currently in the pipeline. You can browse or buy any of Sandra’s books by following the link below straight to her Amazon Author Page:

http://www.amazon.com/-/e/B015GDE5RO

You can contact Sandra at:

sandrasandraharris@gmail.com

https://www.facebook.com/SandraHarrisPureFilthPoetry

https://sandrafirstruleoffilmclubharris.wordpress.com

http://sexysandieblog.wordpress.com

http://serenaharker.wordpress.com

https://twitter.com/SandraAuthor

FANGS AND FOREPLAY… THE EROTIC ADVENTURES OF DRACULA: THE TRANSYLVANIA YEARS. BOOK 5- PART 1. AN EROTIC HORROR NOVEL BY SANDRA HARRIS. ©

christopher lee cape

INTRODUCTION TO BOOK 5.

The year is 1891, and Count Dracula and his sex-and-spanking-crazed harem of beautiful handmaidens are still camped out in Dracula’s ancestral castle in Transylvania. Dracula’s brother Vladimir’s head currently adorns a spike on the castle battlements. His brother Nikolai’s head, while for the moment still attached to his shoulders, is filled with resentment for Dracula and a continuing desire to depose him as head of the family.

Dracula’s wife Anna and his mistress- and cousin- Carmilla are each jockeying for position as his Number One squeeze, and he has two newly-acquired sons he doesn’t have a clue what to do with.

Meanwhile, the genteel young ladies of the nearby Miss Peabody’s Exclusive Academy For The Education And Refinement Of The Daughters Of Gentlefolks are all still waiting impatiently for Dracula to fly through their bedroom windows at midnight, to endow upon them the sexual awakening of a lifetime and an introduction into Dracula’s twilight world of pleasure deliciously commingled with pain.

Add to this his demanding mother, his four sex-mad sisters, his temperamental nude handmaidens and a cartload or two of angry villagers, and you might just have an idea of why, for this year at least, Dracula’s dance-card is fully filled out…

This book, as all the ‘ANNA’ books are, is based on characters created by fellow Irish authors Bram Stoker and Joseph Sheridan Le Fanu, and is dedicated with much love to the late Sir Christopher Lee, whose performances in the HAMMER ‘Dracula’ films inspired every word of it. May he rest in peace… until he rises once more from the crypt in which he rests…

FANGS AND FOREPLAY… THE EROTIC ADVENTURES OF DRACULA: THE TRANSYLVANIA YEARS. BOOK 5- PART 1.

AN EROTIC HORROR NOVEL BY SANDRA HARRIS. ©

‘Well, I must say that this is all dashed queer,’ said Edward Wintergreen, staring intently at the map and stroking his chin thoughtfully. ‘Dashed, dashed queer.’

‘What is, Eddie my love?’ replied his wife Vanessa, giggling at his serious face and snuggling in to his great-coated arm.

It was a bit nippy here in the forest now, especially as the sun was going to start going down for the evening very shortly. Thank heavens they were coming to a village and could hopefully find an inn at which they and their horse could bed down for a night or two. Travelling, even while honeymooning, was an exhausting business.

‘Well, the thing is, this village we’re just about to come to [they could already see the smoke curling lazily from the chimneys of the houses] doesn’t bally well seem to be on the map at all. Look,’ he went on, jabbing his finger emphatically down on the crumpled, well-thumbed map, ‘here’s the village we’ve just come from, right? And here, over a bit, is the village they said we’d be coming to next. But here, where we are right now, right between the two places we know about, isn’t marked on the map at all, see?’

Vanessa could see, but she did not understand its implications. But then, of course, she wasn’t a man, just a mere female, to whom logic and reason were as alien as these deep, dense Transylvanian woods through which they’d been travelling all day. Now Vanessa was cold and tired and dusty, and she longed for a hot bath and a hot dinner, in that order.

‘Whatever do you think it all means?’ she said, doing the right thing and deferring to her husband, whose superior intellect would no doubt penetrate straight to the heart of the manner as usual and come up with the correct answer to the conundrum. Eddie was so very clever, Vanessa reflected fondly now. He could do anything he put his mind to.

‘Dashed if I know, pumpkin. An oversight, maybe? Unless, for some reason, whoever made this map deliberately left off this village we’ve come to now. Doesn’t want anyone to know it’s here, or to stop here. Well, it’s all very queer, as I’ve said, but we don’t seem to have much choice in the matter. About stopping here, I mean. Genevieve is tired, aren’t you, girl [he rubbed the horse’s head and she whickered obligingly in reply], and she needs some straw and a bed for the night. As do we, I daresay,’ he added ruefully, tickling his wife under the chin. ‘I say we just plod on.’

He urged the horse to a slow canter. Vanessa heaved a huge sigh of relief as the carriage finally exited those mournful woods. A feeling of inexplicable dread had hovered over her ever since they’d entered that dark horrid place. Bad things would surely happen in a place like that. Vanessa didn’t exactly know what kinds of things, but she was full certain sure that they existed.

No birds had seemed to sing there or flowers bloom, just nasty, gnarled old trees and bushes which rustled constantly with the movements of unseen forest animals, the kind Vanessa suspected had sharp teeth and claws with which to tear at the unsuspecting traveller. It was all so different from their beloved England.

Edward grinned down at her, as if he could read her thoughts. What a darling he was! And such a charming and considerate husband and companion too. She loved him so very much. She was even getting used to that thing he seemed compelled to do when they were together in bed every night, the thing where he raised her nightgown to her hips and pushed that long hard stalk, that stood out from his body in a most alarming, aggressive and perpendicular fashion, in to her most private of parts.

When he had done this to her on their wedding night, back in dear civilised old England, she had almost expired of shock, viewing it almost in the light of an unprovoked assault.

In fact, she had actually swooned clean away for several moments, and had come round to find Edward in the act of withdrawing his now-limp thing from her body, with a most disconcerting sort of squelching noise which she’d found most distasteful. Edward had cheerfully wiped himself on her nightgown (the prettiest and most delicate in her bridal trousseau as well!) and gone directly to sleep, snoring while he slumbered.

Now, after several weeks of married life, while Vanessa could not be said to enjoy the act of love, exactly, she at least enjoyed the closeness they shared while it was happening, and the endearments by which Edward addressed her at this time, and the blissful happiness it seemed to bring him. And, after all, wasn’t her husband’s happiness of paramount importance in all this? Why, her own feelings scarcely mattered next to Edward’s, after all.

Of course, it irked her profoundly the way he dropped off to sleep afterwards and forgot to cuddle her or make a fuss of her for enduring his nonsense so bravely and staunchly, but she was hoping to cure him of all that. It would all just take time, as her elder married sister Margaret had assured her. According to Margaret, it was all a question of training a man to be a good husband and provider. Train them well and you’ll reap the benefits.

Of course, Margaret was a formidable woman in her mid-thirties, married for years and a bit of a dragon to boot. Perhaps it had not been hard for her to train her husband, James. Vanessa wasn’t quite so confident on the subject of ‘training’ Edward, but then Vanessa was a sweet, pretty, air-headed little ball of fluff in comparison to the more staid Margaret.

‘What a strange place this is!’ Vanessa exclaimed now as Edward guided the carriage through the little village not marked on the map.

It was so quiet, for one thing. Where were the people? She counted only one man, who rushed pell-mell out of his house suddenly to hang, of all things, a bouquet of what looked like garlic flowers on the outside of his window.

Stopping only momentarily to stare curiously at the Wintergreens and their carriage, he then turned and tore back into his cottage as if he were being pursued. She saw him a moment later, inside at the window at which he’d draped the garlic flowers, closing first the curtains and then the shutters. Vanessa could see that the other cottages were similarly shuttered and guarded.

Looking up, she could see for the first time the mountainy road that led from the village up to the most forbidding-looking structure Vanessa had ever seen. A castle, huge and black-silhouetted and bleak, with its blank staring windows overlooking the village like disapproving and censorious watchers.

A castle with battlements, turrets and towers like other castles, a castle that looked as if it had stood atop that grim hill for a thousand years and more. It had an air of foreboding about it that made Vanessa’s skin crawl and gave her goose-flesh all up and down her arms .

The sun glimmered briefly through its many windows, brilliantly illuminating the whole edifice for a moment, giving it the appearance of being lit by within by a million stars, then suddenly the entire picture changed.

Vanessa shivered. The sun had gone down.

AUTHOR BIOGRAPHY OF SANDRA HARRIS.

Sandra Harris is a Dublin-based novelist, poet, short story writer and film and book blogger. She has studied Creative Writing and Film-Making. She has published a number of e-books on the following topics: horror film reviews, multi-genre film reviews, women’s fiction, erotic fiction, erotic horror fiction and erotic poetry. Several new books are currently in the pipeline. You can browse or buy any of Sandra’s books by following the link below straight to her Amazon Author Page:

http://www.amazon.com/-/e/B015GDE5RO

You can contact Sandra at:

sandrasandraharris@gmail.com

https://www.facebook.com/SandraHarrisPureFilthPoetry

https://sandrafirstruleoffilmclubharris.wordpress.com

http://sexysandieblog.wordpress.com

http://serenaharker.wordpress.com

https://twitter.com/SandraAuthor

FANGS AND FOREPLAY… THE EROTIC ADVENTURES OF DRACULA BY SANDRA HARRIS: BOOK 2 OUT NOW!!!

ANNA 3I have brilliant news for fans of my ongoing sexy Victorian vampire serial, ANNA MEETS COUNT DRACULA. Book 2 is out now under its new name of FANGS AND FOREPLAY… THE EROTIC ADVENTURES OF DRACULA!

Also, Book 3 will be starting here soon in serial form so I hope anyone who likes the story will hop on board once more and ride the choo-choo train back to Victorian London and the sauciest, sexiest, spankiest, whippiest shenanigans you could possibly imagine…! What’s the second book all about? Read on and find out, you naughty, naughty people…!

So, has the horny-as-hell Count Dracula settled down and mended his lecherous ways now that he’s a baby-daddy-to-be…? You’d better believe he hasn’t! If anything, he’s hornier than ever. Join him as he bed-hops his way around Victorian London, giving serving wenches and duchesses alike the benefit of his extraordinary- ahem!- ‘swordsmanship.’ Heaving bosoms, thrashed buttocks and stiff members abound in this wickedly saucy sex-and-spanking romp from the mistress of horror erotica herself, Sandra Harris.

Here’s the link!

http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B019Y8KQ3E?*Version*=1&*entries*=0

And here’s my Author Page on Amazon Central, the book is also available there along with all my other books!

http://www.amazon.com/-/e/B015GDE5RO

Drop me an email if you have any problems on:

sandrasandraharris@gmail.com