“Please, no,” she begged, as her shawl fell willingly to the cold, hard floor of the cathedral. Her lily-white corset was now stained with the crimson liquid streaming down from the tiny pricks on the nape of her neck.

“Be still,” he demanded.

With a swift, graceful motion, he grabbed the rope of the friar’s robe that had been tied so tightly around his waist. The rope had the three sacred knots of virtue; one for obedience, one for poverty, and the largest for chastity. How he clung to his knots of virtue and his gaudy crucifix when the vampire slashed open his throat.

The vampire used the rope to bind her wrists to the base of the altar. To think, it was once used in remembrance of holy chastity. It chafed her virgin skin, burning and searing her delicate arms. She never knew a man’s touch, and she worried now that she never would, for this creature was no man. Horrified, she lay stretched over the altar as she feebly knocked over the body and blood of the savior who abandoned her now in His own house.

Somehow, in the deepest part of her mind, she hoped that He would not interfere with her now. She pondered this as he roughly started unlatching the front of her corset. She felt the blood rush between her legs as her tender, ivory breasts were revealed to the musty air of the church. She longed for him to fondle the hard, raspberry nipples that jumped out at his touch.

He had something else in mind.

Before she could blink, she was lying there, completely naked on the cold marble surface of the altar. He had ripped off the remains of her clothes in a fiery rage, and the look in his eyes let her know how hungry he was. All at once, she felt his probing tongue enter her mouth and his long, thick fingers entering the small orifice between her legs. Her sex was throbbing and soaking wet as his fingers explored the inside of her tiny womb. Her lips stretched to conform to the needs of his demanding hands.