Doggett

Phillip barely registered the door bursting open. His pleasure blew apart in red agony that flashed deep in his groin. He felt the bite of the blade and looked down to its source. A scarlet jet squirted violently from the wound. Shocked, he looked to Gabrielle, who now stood over him, and he saw the evil spike of the stiletto in her fist. She'd cut him, stabbed him in the groin with the blade! Terrified at the sight of his severed femoral artery spurting his life away, the great arcs synchronised with his rapidly beating heart, Phillip blurted a cry of fear, surprise, and pain. He struggled to sit up, but Gabrielle dropped the weapon and, with strength beyond human, pinned his shoulders to the bed.

Ignoring the blood spattering against her body, uncaring that the stuff pooled on the bed and soaked into the cover and mattress like the tide on greedy sand, she stared into his eyes with an expression of avid concentration and jubilation. The lad continued his futile struggle and, with his efforts growing ever weaker, and his terrified moans tapering, Gabrielle turned her rear to Doggett.

The big man growled like an animal at the invitation. He offered the knob of his cock to Gabrielle's opening and, with a single slide, entered her fully. The woman gasped at the robust intrusion; she turned her head for a moment and faced him. Doggett, his intelligent eyes glazed by his base instincts, began to thrust and grunt.

"Do it to me," she urged. "I'm close ... Do it. I want to feel that thing spit inside me."

Phillip fell limp under Gabrielle's hands. She locked her eyes on his again. The dying man's face expressed his changing emotions. The fear left and was replaced by a puzzled look, eventually the eyes clouded and his gaze grew fixed; Gabrielle knew it was time.

"Give me your essence," she breathed. Her face fell towards Phillip's. "I need it, it's mine. Now give it to me."

Doggett dug his fingers into Gabrielle's hips and pulled her buttocks against his body. He fucked into her with short, urgent stabs. The rutting, an exquisite pleasure as it was, was secondary to Doggett. There was a greater hunger within him, a darker desire. He willed the boy to die.

The woman continued to stare into Phillip's dull eyes. "You're going darling," she crooned. She tried to hold her head as still as possible while Doggett pumped vigorously from behind. Her lips touched Phillip's. She held the kiss as death took him.

Her climax surged through her, a triumphant explosion that crackled and flared. She gasped again as Doggett's seed burst against her insides, the man himself let go a howl of pleasure and clawed at Gabrielle's hips as he came. Gabrielle whimpered but kept her mouth fastened to Phillip's lips as the life force slid from his body and into her.

Phillip felt himself slide away from the scene. The pain faded to nothing. He heard a sighing like wind in the tops of high trees. Phillip was back in the time, the only time he'd been taken to visit his paternal grandparents in Derbyshire.

One day, after the usual huge breakfast, he explored Minninglow Hill, a lonely knob of a hillock topped with tall, emaciated trees. He'd hoped to find loot in the long-excavated tombs, the pits of which were still very much in evidence, and, with nobody else around for miles, Phillip listened instead to the sighing of the trees above him, like whispers from the past.

That was the sound he heard again, in his final moments, before Gabrielle took him.

Then there was nothing.

Gabrielle sighed deeply. It was, for her, the perfect moment. All of her appetites sated in one go. Something she needed every hundred years. She reached back and pushed Doggett away from her body. She had no more use for him for now. He was redundant. When she needed him again she'd call for him. He'd come running.

Doggett, his cock dripping with cum eyed his mistress eagerly.

"I'm going to bathe." Gabrielle said simply. "It's yours. Do what you must."

With her gone, Doggett changed into the form he felt most comfortable in.

The great beast licked its lips in a gesture of lascivious greed. It sniffed the air and recognised the scent of the woman and the human male who now lay dead on the bed. The odour of sex was strong, but the animal ignored that smell; what excited him was the blood. The tang of hot blood in the air meant fresh meat for him. He'd obeyed his mistress and now it was time for him to feed.

He sniffed the corpse and opened the great maw of his mouth to take the first bite ...