Earth to Earth [Part 1]

By M. Greene - mgreene70@yahoo.com
published November 24, 2017
3774 words
Summary

A revolution inconveniences a vampire…

Castle Blutbad, Kingdom of Ruritania: 1848.

One sunny Saturday afternoon in late September, Landgraf Klaus Von Blutbad VII was rudely awoken from his daily sleep.

“Master! Master! Humble apologies for waking you, but the peasants are revolting!”

Klaus pushed up the hinged lid of his casket and sat up. “Igor, please… Tell me something new, why don’t you?”

Igor shook his head. “Master, it’s serious. There has been a revolution! Apparently, the King was deposed yesterday by a mob of angry students and has fled the country. The Kingdom of Ruritania has been declared a democratic people’s republic!”

Klaus sighed. “Not again! Another revolution! That’s got to be the third in less than seventy years…”

Igor nodded. “As soon as he heard the news, Fritz Schmitt the blacksmith rounded up a gang of villagers and marched straight up here to the castle. They’re waiting for you in the Great Hall, Master…”

Klaus shrugged his shoulders into the silk dressing gown that Igor was holding open for him. “That Fritz always was a bloody troublemaker. Where are my slippers?”

“Here, Master…”

“Pass me my shaded spectacles, too; it’s still far too bright for my poor old eyes.”

“Here they are, Master…”

Klaus ran an elegant hand through his thick blond tresses. “Does my hair look alright, Igor?” It was at times like this that not being able to see one’s own reflection in a mirror was such a dammed nuisance…

“Yes, Master…”

Klaus nodded. “Very well; let us go down and greet our local revolutionaries…”


The Great Hall of Castle Blutbad was the largest indoor space in the county, its medieval vaulted ceiling so high that, from the ground, its wooden beams were lost in the shadows. Huddled on the flagstones in front of the steps leading up to the Landgraf’s throne, the newly-formed Committee of the People felt rather overawed. This chamber was so big that all their cottages put together could easily be fitted into it with plenty of room to spare…

“Maybe we should come back later,” Rudy the miller suggested. “You know how he hates being disturbed during the daytime…”

A number of the other villages nervously mumbled their agreement with this sentiment.

“Cowards!” Fritz declared, shaking his pitchfork. “It’s high time we all stood up to that decadent, blood-sucking bastard!”

They heard the sound of a door creaking somewhere in the distance and looked around nervously. Even though it was a very bright day outside, the sun’s rays did not seem to penetrate into the Great Hall of Castle Blutbad and the torches they carried in their shaking hands made sinister shadows dance around the walls…

“Good afternoon, gentlemen,” Klaus said languidly from his throne. “How very nice of you all to pay me a visit…”

The villagers all flinched. They could have sworn that the throne was empty just a second ago…

Fritz Schmitt began advancing up the ancient steps towards the lounging Landgraf. “Citizen Blutbad! By the powers invested in me by the revolutionary committee, I declare this former fiefdom a people’s republic and hereby confiscate this castle on behalf of its citizens!”

Klaus looked around at the crumbling stone walls and moth-eaten tapestries of his ancestral home. “This old pile? You’re welcome to it…” He laughed. “Just don’t come running to me when the winter fuel and lighting bills come rolling in… Do you realise how many candles we get through each week in this place?”

The blacksmith swore under his breath and spat a wad of thick phlegm onto the ground.

From his vantage point behind the throne, Igor winced. It really was too much; he had only just this morning scrubbed the floor in here…

Fritz shook his fist at the smiling relic of feudalism. “You will vacate this building by the end of this month!” He snarled.

“Yes, yes…” Klaus stood up and treated his subjects to a friendly wave of dismissal. “Well, it’s been incredibly pleasant to see you all, and everything, but I really must not trespass any longer on your valuable time…”

“Three days, citizen! You have just three days!” Fritz stomped back down the steps towards his waiting comrades. These parasitic aristocrats made him feel so angry! “You’d better be out of here by the time we return! On Tuesday, we’ll be coming back with stakes and mallets!”

“Please do be careful, Herr Schmitt,” Klaus drawled. “You’re letting your blood pressure get too high and you know perfectly well that to do so completely ruins the taste…”

The twenty-strong Committee of the People were already filing out through the huge oak double doors which led to the courtyard, bailey and drawbridge.

Just before he followed his companions, Fritz turned back and treated the Landgraf to a final defiant flourish of his pitchfork. “Just wait, you filthy, reactionary leech! You’ll soon see that your days of sucking the life out of this province are at an end!”

The massive doors boomed shut behind him.

Klaus stifled a yawn and looked down at his servant who was still crouching on the floor behind the throne. “Talking of sucking, how do food supplies stand at the moment, Igor?”

Igor scrambled to his feet. “Only young Otto remains from the last batch, I’m afraid, Master. I had to dispose of the others this morning.” He shook his head sadly. “They were all completely drained…”

Klaus shrugged. “You know that I always get rather more peckish when the nights start drawing in…” He began walking towards his study. “Ready Otto for the table, if you will; I wish to dine at eight…”

Igor bowed. “Yes, Master…” First he would need to clear up the slime that uncouth blacksmith had spat all over their floor…


Half an hour later, Igor descended to the dungeons to begin preparing his Master’s dinner.

“Why have I got to wear this stupid outfit, anyway?” Otto asked, once he was fully dressed. The skin-tight hose felt tight and uncomfortable on his muscular legs and left nothing to the imagination in the crotch department. “These weird pants are obscene and they’re making my balls overheat!”

Igor shook his head and adjusted the doublet across the young man’s shoulders. It was actually a bit of a close fit, he decided. Peasants were getting a lot less scrawny than they had been back in the past; obviously they must all be enjoying a much better diet nowadays… “You are not about to eat in some low village inn,” he explained impatiently. “As befits one of his nobility and breeding, the Landgraf has extremely high standards, so it is his wish that the evening meal is always a most formal occasion…”

Otto looked at himself in the ornate full-length mirror with which his cell was furnished. “Not exactly the most fashionable outfit is it?” He grinned. “More like fancy dress…”

Igor sighed. Although the costume was indeed nearly three hundred years old, he was not going to share the secrets of his domestic economy with this young oaf… “You are merely a simple peasant,” he said, testily. “You could not possibly know what the latest tastes are in court circles…”

Otto pulled the close-fitting material away from his dick and balls to give them a bit more breathing space.

“Stop doing that!” Igor exclaimed. “You’ll stretch the fabric out of shape and spoil the line!”

“I told you; my balls are hot…” Otto said. “It’s not my fault that I’m well-hung…” Just then, his stomach gurgled so loudly that even Igor could clearly hear it. “Say, have you got anything to eat? I’m famished!”

“Dinner will be at eight,” Igor replied. “It’s important that you do not spoil your appetite…”

“Eight? But that’s ages away! I haven’t eaten anything since that porridge you brought me first thing this morning…”

Igor raised his eyes to the ceiling. “I suppose I could go and prepare you a small sandwich…”

Otto grinned. “They all told me in the village that, underneath, you were a bit of a sweetheart!”

Once Igor had gone, Otto threw himself down on the four-poster bed and picked up one of the books from the small pile on the night table next to it. He could not read a word, of course, but just holding it open in front of him made it possible for him to imagine that he was literate. He felt like a real important nob lying here like this. He looked around his sumptuously furnished cell, which was the most luxurious bedroom he had ever slept in. It was much better than the one he had at home, he thought. There was an actual bed for one thing…

Igor had come for him the previous month. Otto had just finished supper when he heard the sound of galloping hooves outside. He and his mother had opened the door of their cottage and seen the Landgraf’s rather sinister ebony coach, pulled by four snorting black stallions, draw to a standstill outside in a choking cloud of dust.

Igor, a sombrely-dressed, dark haired man in his late twenties, had clambered down from the driver’s seat and approached them both. “Is this the residence of Otto Muller?” His accent had struck Otto as being very odd; it sounded rather eastern European…

His mother had greeted Igor with a curtsy so low that she had almost twisted an ankle and fallen over on her arse. “Oh yes, Sir. This is Otto here, right next to me,” she said, putting on what Otto called her ‘posh voice’. She dug him surreptitiously in the ribs. “Run inside and fetch that night bag I packed ready for you, son…”

“Aw, Ma, do I have to go?”

His mother had given him a sharp clip around the ear. “Just get in that coach now, Otto!” She held up her hand threatening to slap him again. “This is a respectable family and don’t you forget it! I’m not having the neighbours saying that folks in this house don’t pay their blood tax!”

“But, Ma…”

“Have you or have you not just turned twenty-one Otto?”

“You know I have, Ma, but…”

Smack!

“Ow!”

“Get in the fucking coach, then!”

Otto had sat inside the rocking, velvet lined vehicle, staring out at the forests and mountains as they galloped furiously up the narrow trail towards Castle Blutbad. There had been three others lads from various surrounding villages in there with him, all them around the same age as himself, so the journey was quite convivial and not at all frightening.

It had been late evening by the time they reached their destination and too dark to see very much until the moon suddenly came out from behind the heavy clouds, illuminating the thrusting buttresses, towers and spires of the castle perched above them at the highest point of a steep crag. A few moments later and they had clattered across the drawbridge, under a rusty portcullis and into a huge stone paved courtyard. The four young men had stared up at the carved gargoyles leering down at them from underneath the battlements. From somewhere among the tall pine trees beyond the high walls a lone wolf had howled.

Igor had opened one of the coach doors at that moment. “Here we are, boys: ‘home sweet home’!” he had said, drily.

All four of them had been led down into the dungeons and locked inside their separate cells, but, as Igor had explained to Otto, this was only done as a precaution to prevent them from wandering around and getting hopelessly lost or worse…

“This castle is a very dangerous place with all manner of traps and hazards for the unwary,” Igor had said. “Now, please get into the bath so I can give you a thorough scrub down…”

Otto had eyed the steaming water in the tin hip bath suspiciously. “But it ain’t Easter,” he said. “I only bathe at Easter…”

“A fact that is made abundantly obvious by your body odour,” Igor snapped. “You cannot possibly be received by the Landgraf smelling of the farmyard and the privy! Now undress and get into the bath; I haven’t got all night, you know…”

Otto had now been stuck inside this cell for nearly four weeks. Comfortable and luxurious though it was, he was beginning to feel restless and homesick. He had never thought it would be possible to miss his nagging old mother, but now he found that he actually did.

“The other fellows I came here with,” he asked Igor, as he picked up his sandwich. “What’s happened to them? I used to hear them singing and moving about in their cells and sometimes we’d shout out to each other, but now it’s all quiet down here…”

Igor frowned as if the question was an irritation to him. “It really is no concern of yours,” he said sharply. “They’ve just departed, that’s all…”


“Herr Otto Muller, Master,” Igor announced, showing Otto into the Landgraf’s drawing room at exactly eight o’clock.

The Landgraf rose from the chaise-longue on which he had been reclining and approached them. He was wearing his embroidered silk kimono and had his long blond hair tied back into a ponytail. He held out his right hand and Otto went down on one knee and kissed the Landgraf’s fingers as he had been instructed by Igor to do.

“Delightful! I am charmed to make your acquaintance, Otto,” the Landgraf said. “I trust that your stay here has been comfortable?”

Otto nodded. “Yes, Your Excellency…” He had been going to complain about his four weeks of solitary confinement, but there was something about the Landgraf that he found rather awe-inspiring and left him at a loss for words…

“Please, call me Klaus,” the Landgraf said, leading the way towards the dining room. “Let us eat; I am sure you must be absolutely famished; I know I am…”

Otto had never eaten such an amazing dinner in his life. There was chicken soup with black bread, then soused herrings, followed by roast suckling pig and pickled cabbage. Otto had thought that the meal was over at that point, but Igor then placed some kind of lemon tart on the table accompanied by a large bowl of fruit.

“We need to keep your strength up,” Klaus said, smiling across the polished table at him and taking another sip from his wine glass.

“You’ve not had anything at all,” Otto said through a mouthful of curds and pastry. “You said you were hungry, but all you’ve done is drink…”

The Landgraf laughed. “Please do not worry about me,” he said. “I plan to eat later…”

After dinner was over, Klaus took Otto on a tour of a few of the state rooms and showed him some of the family portraits which decorated the walls.

“That’s Klaus Blutbad, the first Landgraf,” he said, pointing to a picture of an elderly man with a long white beard. “One of my distant ancestors.”

“And you’re the seventh Landgraf, right?”

Klaus smiled. “That’s right, Otto; I am Klaus Blutbad the seventh…” Actually, he was also Klaus Blutbad the second, third, fourth, fifth and sixth, and the old man in the three-hundred year old portrait had been his father, but it never paid to tell people this; he always found that it made them rather nervous…

They entered a luxurious chamber where the Landgraf sank down onto an enormous four poster bed hung with silk curtains. “Come here and sit beside me, Otto,” he said softly.

Otto did so, but perched rather awkwardly on the edge of the bed. He felt slightly tense. He was not used to polite society and living the high life like this… Just then, he felt something touch his leg. He looked down. The Landgraf was stroking his thigh!

“You’re very handsome, Otto,” Klaus said, looking into his eyes. “Such a gorgeous muscular body and beautifully clear skin…”

Otto wanted to tell the man to stop rubbing his thigh and that he wasn’t interested in males, but found that he became lost in the Landgraf’s deep grey eyes and entirely forgot what he was going to say…

“You don’t mind if I kiss you on the lips, do you Otto?” Klaus stated.

Otto shook his head. No. He did not mind at all…

As they kissed, Otto decided that the Landgraf was the most beautiful person he had ever met. Klaus’ voice was incredibly soothing, his touch sent pleasant shivers all through his body and he was really enjoying the feeling of the Landgraf’s tongue probing deep inside his mouth…

Otto became dimly aware that Igor was now standing behind him busily undoing the buttons of his doublet. Thank goodness for that, he thought. I’ve been boiling alive for ages in this stupid outfit… He continued to kiss Klaus deeply, feeling the Landgraf’s strong hands stroking his bare torso as the doublet was finally ripped away from his body. The silly, pointed leather boots he had been asked to wear were slipped off next and then Igor began unbuttoning his hose… Tight as they were, the strange, old-fashioned pants slipped down over his buttocks and thighs easily enough and he felt a profound sense of relief as his dick and balls sprang free from the constricting material. That was better! Now the Landgraf could touch his cock more easily. Hmm… How stiff it was getting under the man’s strong hands…

The Landgraf lay back on the bed, opened his silk gown and hoisted his legs in the air over Otto’s muscular shoulders. Otto felt himself being manhandled into a crouching position by Igor, who also slathered a slippery, cold substance over his incredibly stiff dick. Jesus! He had never had such a throbbing hard-on in his life! As if he were merely a spectator, he watched as Igor’s hands guided his cock down towards the Landgraf’s beautiful pink hole. Although it was a tight fit, he was able to push into it easily enough and felt incredibly proud when he heard the Landgraf let out a soft moan of pleasure. Oh yes! Fucking pussy was something he really knew how to do! Feeling more confident now, Otto began pumping his dick in and out of the Landgraf’s anal passage harder and faster. This actually felt better than a pussy; it was much tighter and provided his cock with more friction…

“Oh… Fuck! Yes…” Was that his own voice groaning in the background? Otto gasped; he was going to shoot his load any second now… Yes… Here it came… Oh fuck… It felt fucking fantastic…

As Klaus sensed Otto’s body tensing in ecstasy, he used his powerful arms to pull the peasant’s neck right down to his mouth and bit into it as hard and fast as he could. His razor sharp fangs rarely missed; they sank into the pulsing jugular vein with ease. As the muscular youth orgasmed and pumped his sperm in great thick wads deep inside him, Klaus blissfully fed…

Once he was completely sated, Klaus released Otto from his tight embrace. The peasant’s limp body fell over the side of the bed and landed on the floor with a loud thump.

Igor, who had been standing to attention, waiting for his Master to finish feeding, immediately leaned over and covered the Landgraf’s erect penis with his lips.

“Now it’s once again time for your reward, my faithful one,” Klaus murmured, filling his slave’s mouth with the vampire seed which granted both immortality and total obedience to those who swallowed it regularly…


Later, after Klaus had showered, brushed his flowing blond hair and tied it back into a ponytail, he wandered into the bedroom to find Igor smoothing down his silken quilt. Otto’s body had been removed. He pointed to the empty space on the floor beside the bed where it had been. “Where have you put him?”

Igor bowed. “Back in his cell, Master. I will have to take him home to his mother in the morning. He was quite depleted, Master…”

Klaus shrugged. “I was hungry…”

Igor shook his head. “I had hoped that he would have enough blood in him for another feeding, Master, but you’ve pretty well drained him. For you to take any more would surely kill him…”

“Well we don’t want that, do we?” Klaus said. “I’m unpopular enough around here as it is without starting to kill people…”

“The old Master had no such compunctions,” Igor observed.

“Yes,” Klaus said, nodding. “Which, as you well know, was why I had to destroy him…”

Igor sighed. “Never fear, Master, there are still a few local men eligible to pay the blood tax. I will begin collecting them tomorrow…”

Klaus sat down on the bed next to where his slave was standing. “No, Igor, that won’t be necessary; I have decided that it is high time we moved on…”

“Moved on, Master?”

“Yes…” Klaus shrugged his shoulders. “This castle bores me. After what happened this afternoon with Herr Schmitt and his friends, I fear that we may soon be ousted from here in any case…”

“No, Master…” Igor shook his head. “They are just simple peasants, Master. They cannot really threaten us…”

Klaus gave his slave a grim smile. “Word has it that the army has betrayed the King and now backs the revolution. Once armed troops arrive down here we will be overwhelmed. It’s time we went on a long holiday, I think…”

Igor’s eyes were wide. “But where, Master? Where could we go?”

Klaus took hold of Igor’s hands and squeezed them between his own. “Europe really has become a complete bore. In peacetime we are plagued by bureaucracy and in wartime we are threatened with destruction. All this recent unrest and revolution is jarring my already beleaguered nerves. We need to travel to somewhere less modern, more uncivilized, more anarchic, where regulation and the rule of law hardly touch the lives of those who live there…”

“Where is such a place to be found, Master?”

Klaus grinned broadly, displaying his pointed fangs. “Why, the United States of America, of course…”

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