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From: rache <rache696@yahoo.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} Runaway Dream Ch.6 by Rachael Ross (F/f, Vampire, Rom, Drugs, Prostitution, Violence, Horror)
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Date: Wed, 23 May 2007 08:10:05 -0400
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The Runaway Dream

Copyright 2000-2007 Rachael Ross all rights reserved. Intended for
adults.
Story Codes F/f, Vampire, Rom, Drugs, Prostitution, Violence, Horror

Note: You should read the first six parts, beginning with "Runaway
Dream Intro" before reading this seventh part of the story.


The Runaway Dream
by rache

Chapter 6 - Survival

"It is not death, but dying, which is terrible." - Henry Fielding


I dreamt. Every day, sleeping in the cool dark with Angela to hold me,
I was dead. And yet I dreamed. And that my dreams were bad I had
little doubt, but I could never remember them, but for small snippets
and fragments, all jumbled together in one confused memory.

And that was quickly forgotten as well.

But knowing that I had them troubled me greatly. I thought there must
be some meaning there, as Angela had divined me from her own dreams.
She'd sought and found me, guided by the subconscious yearnings of her
heart. Couldn't mine be just as profound?

"You should forget them." Angela told me.

We were in Portland, hunting, and it was early, a mere hour after
sunset, and we walked by the river as it moved through the heart of
the city.

"I want to remember them." I said, holding her hand as we moved
through a small park.

"It's your constant worrying that brings them." Angela told me gently.

"Maybe." I shrugged. "I'm going to go up that way."

I looked up a street, knowing it led to an older part of town, a cheap
and small red light district of sorts, with strip clubs and porn
arcades. It was where I felt most comfortable and Angela understood
that. We only rarely hunted together now. She preferred men when it
came to killing, but I liked to prey on the same women who were
preying on me.

"I'll find you." She kissed me on the lips, brushing some of my blonde
hair from my eyes. "I love you, Lisa."

"I know." I smiled, just for her, but I wanted her to understand me,
how I needed to know what it was I saw in my sleep.

I was dressed like a tomboy, which was natural for me. It was me all
over, my scuffed boots, frayed jeans and the small t-shirt I wore,
with a faded Dickie's logo over my smallish breasts. I had Audrey's
jacket, the suede one with tassels on the sleeves, and that was all.

I didn't feel particularly hungry, mostly I felt...Bored, I guess. It
was sort of boring being a vampire. I mean the hunting was fun, I
enjoyed it a lot. And Audrey was still alive, a month after I'd found
her. I didn't even keep her locked up anymore, but she was broken. She
was like a dog that's been whipped too long too often, so that all she
knew how to do was suffer for me.

Audrey cried a lot. Even when we made love, the woman wept.

I pushed her out of my mind, walking the street aimlessly, seeing
people I recognized. Not by face or name, but by type. The addicts and
pushers and old whores and faggots cruising. I knew them all and I had
an urge to fix, to score some heroine and jack myself, but it wouldn't
do anything. I was immune to that stuff. More proof of how boring
being a vampire could be. I couldn't even get high.

There was a bar and I knew immediately it was gay, a lesbian bar. I
could close my eyes and smell those girls, smell their ripe cunts
through the door every time it opened. I walked across the street,
giggling as a car almost hit me, would have hit me, if I weren't so
quick, so agile. I could have leaped over it if I'd wanted, or let it
hit me and bounced thirty feet, only to get up and dust myself off. I
was stronger now, and getting stronger all the time, learning what I
could do and what I couldn't.

I was growing, but I was just fifteen too. I'd always be just fifteen,
always a little girl, even when I was a hundred, or a thousand years
old. I didn't know if I should be happy or sad about that and my
opinion changed with my mood.

"Where do you think you're going?" A woman stopped me, dark and heavy,
sitting by the door and collecting the cover.

"Inside." I smiled at her, looking into her eyes. I touched her arm,
just softly, caressing her. "It's okay."

"Okay." She nodded with me and smiled, turning her head to look down
as I walked away, into the bar.

"May the force be with you." I said softly, giggling a little. My mood
lightened considerable as soon as I was inside. I always felt better
in places like this, around people like me, which they were.

I was a lesbian, broke and lonely and just looking for attention, for
just an hour, or a night, whatever I could get. And all these people
were the same, desperate and longing. It was the part of town where
people drank beer from bottles, and dropped quarters on a pool table,
and gave head to each other in the bathrooms. Survival of the fittest
and this was it for me, home.

"Hey, sweetie." An old dyke, in her fifties maybe, smiled at me and I
just walked by.

I saw the woman I wanted, just as a dozen had probably decided they
wanted me, maybe more than that because it was crowded and I was so
young. They hit on me and I shook my head, or walked away, or gave
them a quick look before saying no. And I watched the one I wanted.

She was maybe twenty-eight at the most and she reminded me of Angela,
with her soft brown hair and tight, compressed smile. She was playing
pool with her girlfriend, or her wanna-be girlfriend anyway, who was
touching her hip, and caressing her shoulder. My girl was wearing a
men's shirt, one of those button down collar kind, blue pinstripes and
the cuffs rolled up. It hung around her smooth hips and the bell
bottom jeans she wore, tight in the thighs and loose around her feet.

She was beautiful to me, like Angela, if Angela were alive. It was
that part of her I found so attractive, the life in her eyes, the
smile and the way she moved, like dancing, back and forth, around the
table. In and out of her girlfriend's reach, teasing the woman. It
made me smile and I walked around the bar, just watching her. Content
with that for the moment and it was a real pleasure, my first in many
days.

"Cath..." Someone grabbed my arm, turning me. "Oh, you're not Cathy."
She giggled a little drunkenly. "You're better than Cathy, can I buy
you a drink?"

She was tall and blonde, with nice tits in a low cut sweater, pleading
for a nibble. Maybe twenty-one, barely old enough to get in probably,
and she had her own eyes following her because she was so precious and
pretty.

"Let's dance." I said, looking up slightly, because she was just a few
inches taller than me.

"Sure." The girl smiled, putting her mostly empty drink on someone
else's table, and we danced along with twenty other people, crowded
and sweating on the small bit of hardwood floor in the middle of the
place.

There wasn't any band, just a jukebox, and so we were moving at the
mercy of someone else's whim, but that was okay. Some Chili Peppers
were playing, and then some old hard Nirvana, so we jumped and
laughed, did a little slamming in the pit that opened up. I took an
elbow to my jaw, but I barely noticed; it was fun. I hadn't danced
like that in forever and finally a slow song, some old Pumpkins,
Adore, and I felt blondie's hands on me.

We moved together and I rubbed her ass while she held my shoulders.
She was seriously femme, a little girl in disguise, and I was a dyke
who looked like a little girl. We might have been perfect for each
other in a different life, but I had my eyes on my darling by the pool
table. She was making out, just a little, with her daddy and I felt
myself growing warm watching the two girls kiss.

"What's your name?" The blonde had her mouth on my ear and her breasts
pressed against mine as we moved together.

"Lisa."

"I'm Hillary." She licked my ear with the tip of her tongue. "You're
pretty hot; I haven't seen you here before."

"I just got into town." I slipped my hands down, to the hem of her
skirt, a tight black one, like fake leather, and I stroked the back of
Hillary's thighs, lifting it with my fingers.

"You go to school?" She was rubbing my back and I had her skirt up to
her ass practically, feeling the soft creases in Hillary's flesh, at
the places where her ass and thighs met. I was exposing the girl for
anyone who cared to look and a lot of women did.

"Not anymore." I laughed softly and turned my face so she could kiss
me. She was hot for it now, ready and wanting. Hillary didn't even
care what I was doing with her skirt, if anything she liked it as much
as I did.

"You want to go to my place?" Hillary asked, her lips against mine,
speaking into my open mouth as I played my tongue along her teeth.

"I have a girlfriend." I reached Hillary's ass, finding the firm round
globes with my hands and squeezing her, pulling her against me.

"Is she here?" Hillary was breathing harder.

"Yeah." I slipped a dinger into the crack of her ass, feeling the
tight thin back of her thong as it ran over her anus and up.

"I don't care." Hillary kissed me hard, as if to prove it, pressing
her tongue into my waiting mouth while I fingered her exposed ass, her
skirt around her waist as we danced slowly.

"Hey get a room or something." A waitress said, carrying a tray full
of empties. "Can't do that stuff in here."

"Yeah." I licked my lips, looking at the girl I wanted, laughing with
her lover across the bar. "Fuck her, let's go."

Hillary's place wasn't far at all, just around the corner and a few
blocks up, a cheap hostel and the front desk was empty, so it wasn't
any big deal getting me upstairs. Not that it would have been anyway.

"I'm just staying here til I find my own place, you know?" Hillary
liked to talk. "I go to art school, graphic design. I do a lot of
logos and stuff, you know, to make money. I do watercolors too
though..."

I was just quiet, following her ass up the narrow stairs, undecided if
I was going kill the girl, or just fuck her. Hillary fumbled with her
key for a second and I rubbed her sides playing with her while she
giggled, telling me how nice that felt.

Hillary hit the light switch, turning on an old yellowish ceiling
light, and inside her room was small, with little more than a narrow
bed and a half-sized dresser for furnishings. She had some bags piled
up in a corner, some art stuff there, a cheap leather case, like
artists carry their paint and brushes and stuff in. A little laptop
computer. It was all ordinary and boring and we were just there for
each other anyway.

As soon as we were inside, I threw my jacket on the bed, and after
Hillary closed the door, we were kissing. She was good at it and I
brought my hands to Hillary's body, kneading her firm full tits as I
sucked her tongue. I pulled her top off and she was undoing my jeans
at the same time, watching my face, smiling at me. Then we switched, I
unzipped her skirt while she pulled my t-shirt over my head, so she
was in her black thong and I was in my little pink panties.

"Jesus." Hillary giggled, looking at my body in the dim light. "How
old are you?"

"Fifteen." I smiled at her. "That okay for you?" I pushed my narrow
hips out, my flat stomach and the soft round swell of my pussy under
my panties.

"Yeah." She giggled. "I like fifteen."

"Take off my panties." I told her. "No, down on your knees...do it
nice."

I wasn't playing any tricks on her, no magic. I didn't need it with
this woman, Hillary wanted a girl in charge and my tomboy looks were
what she liked and now she'd like the dyke attitude as well. Taking
orders from a girl, a kid like me, that would be fine with her, I
could sense it.

"Okay." Hillary nodded. "Should I take off my..."

"No. I like it." I stood there waiting and when she was down I put my
hands in her soft blonde hair, pulling her mouth to my cunt as she
edged my panties down slowly.

"Mmmm...yeah, suck my cunt now, you like it don't you? Little cunt
sucker..." I whispered, and I felt my temperature rising.

"Yesss..." Hillary breathed, working her mouth over my little clit,
licking at my slit, kissing the soft thin patch of hair at the top.

"Fuck me...use your tongue, Hill...fuck my pussy with it..." I was bending
my knees, arching my back and when the woman stiffened her tongue and
pushed between my puffy lips I sighed with pleasure.

She was working my pussy nicely, Hillary the art school girl, holding
onto my thighs with her warm hands, squeezing me as she licked my
little hole. Down on her knees for me, like she belonged there, a
little submissive slut, the way I used to be for soccer moms and
closet dykes with limp dick husbands.

"I'm going to piss..." I told her, holding her mouth to my cunt and she
tried to pull away.

"No, I'm not..." Hillary started protesting. SLAP!! And I slapped her
face hard.

"Tell me you want it." I breathed, staring down into her wounded eyes,
soft blue and moist now. SLAP!! I slapped her again. "Tell me to piss
in your mouth, slut."

"P-Piss in my...mouth..." She said softly, Hillary's lower lip trembling
sweetly. "...P-Please."

"Yeah, I will, Hillary..." I smiled, nodding and watching her move her
flushed face to my pussy all by herself. I wasn't forcing her.

She wanted it, I knew she did. Hillary's excitement filled that tiny
room and I could hear her heart beating quickly, her lungs laboring to
move hot air into her blood. I felt pangs of hunger, small ones, but I
didn't want her that way, not yet. She was too pretty, to willing to
be taken. All she needed was a push, that's all she wanted, a strong
girl to make her do the things she craved.

I let my urine go and it was a lot. I hadn't pissed since I'd last fed
two nights before. It wasn't something I noticed, a full bladder, and
it was strange how my body worked, how I didn't need a bathroom unless
I thought about it. Stuff like that. But it had its advantages, I had
to admit, and pissing into Hillary's mouth just because I wanted to
was nice.

I gave her a gentle, slow stream, working my muscles and caressing her
hair and scalp as the girl swallowed, spilling some of my urine down
her neck and shoulders, across her breasts. And if she noticed it was
cool and clear and almost tasteless, she didn't complain. It was waste
from my cunt and that's all that mattered. She was my little piss
slave for the moment, my cunt lapping bitch.

When I was done I dropped down to kiss Hillary hard, pushing my tongue
into her wet mouth, sharing that piss between us, licking and kissing
her face as we went to the damp carpet, thin and rough. We kissed
deeply and she was moaning as I rubbed her pussy through her thong,
teasing her as Hillary fingered my slippery hole. It was good fucking
like that, and I soon had her undressed completely, shoving two
fingers into the woman's cunt.

"Get on your hands and knees. Face down...low..." I said, pushing and
pulling so that Hillary would get her ass in the air for me.

I grabbed her thong off the carpet, ripping into it with my razor
teeth, severing the stretchy material, and I pulled Hillary's hands
back, behind her, tying her wrists together.

"You like it when I tie you up?" I asked, cinching her tight.

"Yeah...I like it." She swallowed hard, face down on the floor.

"Give me your ass..." I breathed, getting my mouth on her anus, licking
her there, kissing the tight little hole, smelling strong of musk and
sweat and more. I fingered her pussy while I worked to loosen her up
with my tongue, worming the tip inside her ass, and Hillary was
squirming, moaning and pushing her ass back to meet me.

I worked her anus for a long time, using my fingers in her cunt to
bring her off in two or three quick orgasms and I had two fingers
inside her, and then three...I added a forth as her asshole opened
slowly, letting me get deeper, my spit running down to mix with her
leaking juices. She had a small pussy, but my hand was small too and I
fucked her easily with four fingers and I don't even think she knew it
until I told her I was adding my thumb.

"I'm gonna fist you, Hill." I licked along the crack of her ass, from
her anus to the small of her back, kissing her there as she shivered.

"Oh god..." She moaned. "I never...yeah...fuck me okay...fist me..."

She was lost in heaven someplace, asking for directions home because
everything was a pleasant haze. Hillary wouldn't feel a thing, nothing
but good, and I tucked in my thumb and worked my hand inside her
slowly, moving back and forth while I kissed her back and stroked her
thigh.

"Oh god...oh god...oh yeah..." Hillary was practically sobbing with the
experience, feeling her cunt being stretched as my hand moved inside
her, finally just seeming to pop inside so that her pussy closed up
behind it, snug and hot and wet around my wrist.

"Mmmm..." I chuckled, curling my fingers and moving slowly, turning my
hand and exploring the way my knuckles dragged across the soft flesh
of her pussy.

"Ohhh shit...wow...uh-huh uhhh..." Hillary was cumming and I hadn't even
moved yet, so I did. Pushing my fist a little deeper and pulling it
back, pressing my other hand between her shoulders, pinning her to the
floor as she was moving violently with her orgasm, writhing and
rocking her hips.

I fucked her faster, sitting up a little, but mostly leaning on her as
I watched my arm moving in and out of her swollen cunt. Her thick red
labia gripped me, and were pulled in tight as I thrust, and then
reappeared, dragging along my skin as I pulled back again. I didn't go
very fast, or even very deep, I didn't have to. Hillary was getting
off perfectly just like that.

I pulled out after she'd had her cum, while she lay gasping and hot,
smiling with a puddle of drool under her cheek. Her pussy was sloppy
wet and my hand came out even easier than it had gone in and I flexed
my fingers, feeling them a little stiff. I licked at my hand briefly
and I was so ready to cum by then too. I sucked her pussy as well,
drinking her recent orgasm and savoring that rich flavor that was
unique to Hillary for several long minutes.

I put Hillary on her right side then, her hands still bound behind her
back and I got on my own hands and knees, sliding back against her,
between her legs, so that her left leg was over my hip and I could
stretch myself out, pressing myself against her other leg, grinding my
cunt back against hers. I could feel her heat like a furnace against
my sex, her thick rubbery pussy lips working against mine. Hillary's
hard little clit was touching me every now and again as we moved
against each other.

It was a good nasty hard fuck, a grind like I hadn't had in a long
time. Too long, I thought, feeling the other girl's hot cunt rubbing
mine, our juices running together, mixing and covering each other's
sex. I held Hillary's bottom leg tight, dragging my burning nipples
across the carpet, hunching my body against her until I felt my orgasm
coming.

I'd been waiting for it, praying for it, needing that release and
unsure if I'd get it or not. Sometimes it just didn't happen, for no
reason that I could figure, but this time it did. I moved my pussy up
and down fast, vibrating my sex against Hillary's and she was cumming
with me, which was so good it hurt. Just knowing that she was there
with me, just feeling her body quivering and hearing her soft cries,
it made it special.

Hillary was fighting her bonds when she came, struggling because she
wanted to hold me, but I wasn't freeing her, not then. I was enjoying
this far too much and I felt the overwhelming desire to have her, just
a taste, a bit of her life's blood to warm me and I bit her calf,
sinking my teeth into her soft body so that she jerked and groaned,
but there was no resistance. She didn't know what that sensation was,
the delightful sting of twin needles in her flesh.

I swallowed quickly, feeling my second orgasm, the one I very nearly
always got from sating my thirst. It was a caress upon my heart, an
orgasm unlike those I got from just fucking alone. This was a sensual
thing, dramatic, like an affirmation of my soul. I should have stopped
then, but it was impossible and I drank eagerly, sucking hard and
causing her pain as I'd missed her veins and arteries that ran through
her calf.

I was tearing into her muscle and breaking capillaries and Hillary's
moans of pleasure began to change and she was kicking her leg, but I
held it tight. It takes a very long time to drink a girl if you don't
find a major vessel. Hillary's calf muscle was swelling with blood
now, the capillaries expanding, filling the thick tissue as if she
were running a marathon and her heart quickened even more.

We were still grinding, I refused to stop and she was helpless beneath
me. I fed on Hillary like that for three hours, drinking her life
slowly and cumming very nearly the whole time, with only small breaks
between my orgasms. I wasn't human then; no one would have recognized
me as anything but a monster, a predator of some kind.

Hillary's skin was pale when I was finished, milky white where once
she'd been flushed red with passion. Her calf was bruised and swollen
from where I'd clamped my mouth tightly, and her ankle as well, from
the grip my hand had taken to hold her steady.

"So this is how you feed?" Angela was there and I hadn't noticed her
arrival.  She was sitting on the floor behind me, her back against the
door and she may have been there for hours, or just minutes. I had no
way of knowing.

"I hadn't meant to." I answered after a long moment. I was still
laying there, my cunt against hers, myself and dead Hillary entwined
as lovers to the end.

"It's interesting at least." Angela smiled and I was too tired to care
if she was teasing me or not. The sun was rising in a few hours, maybe
less, and I'd exhausted myself with my sexual feeding.

"She was an artist." I sighed.

"Well then, she deserved an interesting death." Angela laughed. "Come
on, we need to go home. The sun is coming."

I just nodded, moving away, crawling and then rising, stretching my
body and finding my clothes. I thought of telling Angela about the
other girl, the one who'd looked like her, the one I'd really wanted.
But I didn't. We'd be back and I'd find her again, and I'd have her.
That girl I wanted to punish for being so alive, for being so much
like Angela, for being...I didn't know what. But I wanted her and I
hoped I'd dream of her.

We left the hostel easily, no one saw us, no one cared, leaving behind
another strange murder for the police to puzzle over. Portland was a
strange place anyway, like Seattle. It was too grey, too depressing,
and people were funny in places like that and so funny things
happened. Even so we were usually careful not to leave too many bodies
around and if it had been a little earlier in the morning I'd have
found a safe place for Hillary to rest.

Angela and I would rest in the Heights, in the basement of a small
house she'd bought thirty years before. An old woman lived there, one
of Angela's lovers, former lovers, but still in love. She was nearing
seventy and a little deaf. That was the way of it you know, we would
go on and our friends, our lovers would grow old and die. Petra,
someday, would be grey and wrinkled, beautiful in memory only, but
still faithful, still devoted.

It was a sad thing when I'd come to understand that and I wondered how
that would change me, how it had changed Angela, because I was sure it
must. Hillary I could have loved, perhaps, but I'd killed her. Audrey
I loved and I kept her as a pet. What was the difference really? Why
did one life mean so little, or any life for that matter?

I felt nothing but regret that I wouldn't get to fuck Hillary again,
that was the sum of my feelings for her death. She'd warmed me with
her blood, given me hours of unearthly pleasure, and I'd left her on
the floor, bound and bruised. It was selfish, but I'd never been
anything else, and I wondered what all of this meant.

This was why vampires were immortal, I thought, because there is so
much to understand. I wasn't even sure what the proper questions were
and I hesitated to ask Angela, she was hardly of a mind to wax
philosophical on anything. But perhaps she'd been, at one time. Maybe
she'd asked herself these same questions, had these same thoughts.

"Why are we here?" I asked her, in our cellar bed in that cold grey
city of Portland.

"Why? Because we're tired." She smiled at me.

"Why are we vampires?" I dug my nails into her breast, punishing her
for teasing me. "I mean, what's the point?"

"Oh god, Lisa." She sighed. "Go to sleep. You need a few hundred years
under your belt before you'll figure that out."

"Have you figured it out?" I persisted.

"Maybe." She kissed me. "Maybe there is no point. We have a duty to
survive, isn't that enough?"

I closed my eyes, letting Angela hold me tightly and I thought about
it, deciding that survival wasn't enough. It couldn't be.


end of Part Seven

========--- )-( ---========


Continued in Part Eight

rache696@yahoo.com
www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/rache/www/index.htm

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