Home > fuck > Some night in 15th century Romania

Some night in 15th century Romania

It was a touchy subject to be sure, and he couldn’t seem to find a moment in the conversation to bring it up naturally. Maria was a beautiful woman who was obviously interested in him, and was aware that he was on the brutish side, but still. How do you casually mention that you’re addicted to impaling without ruining the romantic mood? Vlad furrowed his brow and stared into his goblet.

Maria sensed his discomfort. “Are you feeling well, dear Vlad? Mutton not sitting right?” she pried, with some concern. He was at a loss. Things were clearly on track for her to agree to go back to his castle after dessert, but the evidence of his bloody hobby was everywhere. Why, there were still three serfs on pikes on the outer side of the moat! Even in the dark, she was sure to notice that, let alone the countless blood stains on the inside.

Seeing no other way, he opted to just come out and say it, come what may. “It’s not the mutton,” he said, still gazing at his beverage. “The fact is I enjoy impaling people. Love it, really. I had a waiter from this very restaurant impaled last week for spilling some wine on my boot.” He lifted his eyes to hers, expecting the worst, but was stunned to see a bemused look on her face. “Well, aren’t you the dark sort?” she half-whispered through a wry smile. “I’d be interested to see how that works.”

Vlad was floored. She was curious? He blinked rapidly, replied with a blurted “I’ll show you!” and signaled for the check. Maria smirked flirtatiously, and later encroached his personal space with increasing aggressiveness during the ride in the wagon as he coached the horses back to his castle. He was tantalized, urging the horses on with near desperation to hurry, so eager was he for what he was now certain would follow.

Then they broke into the castle clearing and Maria screamed. She pointed in horror at the corpses on pikes, all color draining from her face. “I thought it was some kind of joke! You truly are the son of Dracul!” she gasped. “I can’t believe it’s true!” Vlad’s heart sank. It had taken longer than usual, but the outcome was the same as so many other failed dates. He exhaled, nodded and offered to take her back home as she broke into wracked sobs.

But obviously he impaled her instead. Haven’t you ever met Vlad?

Categories: fuck
  1. No comments yet.
  1. No trackbacks yet.