Who: Jasper NPC Parents various When: When he was a child What: Abuse, how a normal vampire child is turned into what Jasper becomes Where: England. Rating: R - contains child abuse
It seemed to be so much longer than three years, three years until that damn brat could be taken from his mother, three years, until he could use the child as he saw fit. Maybe the stupid wench had believed making him agree too such would have him forget and lose all interest in the infant. She was to be sorely mistaken. Yes she was very sorely mistaken, Lord Chancy Dehart, hadn’t forgotten, instead his vile desire to possess the child had only increased ten fold. Not that she was all too aware that he’d even seen the infant, in fact he hadn’t, he couldn’t careless what it looked like, the only thing that interested him, was it was a boy, and it was a born vampire much like its mother. He wanted to be the first to abuse the child, the first to show it how easy it was for a larger being to dominate a smaller, and he cared little about what kind of pain doing such may inflict on the boy. He was a vampire after all, whatever Lord Chancy, could and would do to him, would heal. It would heal and he would be able to do whatever he wished repeatedly, time after time, to the boy. He did so love little boys. Three, was not exactly the best of ages, but he could train the child from an early age, it make him more pliable, easier to control as he got older. Even, the good Lord was hoping, reliant upon him, needful of him. He was to be mistaken, for he was not the first to truly use the child, merely believed he was.
Lady Cordelia Dehart, was in her rooms, she was always in her rooms, she kept the long dark drapes shut at all times, and she allowed none near her precious child. Of course the staff believed she was doing such for the child’s protection, for their master was a cruel man. Maybe, she was in her own warped little way, yet she’d promised Jasper to him when he reached the age of three, and today he was to reach that age. The sun had lowered and she knew she would have little time before her errant husband arrived to take her babe from her. Yet she believed he could wait and made sure the doors to her rooms were well and truly locked. Her child, her precious adorable little cherub, she would make sure that he knew that his mother loved him, make sure that he had been fed, that he’d been shown how much she loved him before his father was to take him.
Jasper was in his mother’s eyes a beautiful infant, and he probably would have been seen as such to others, maybe a little pale, and maybe a little slim, as it was popular to have fleshy little toddlers, but still he was beautiful. Long golden locks of curling hair, a round face with bright blue eyes that shone from it, and a child’s need to smile, even if that smile didn’t quite seem as wholesome as it should.
Cordelia, gathered the slowly awakening child in her arms, he slept alongside her at all times, and they slept without a stitch of clothing upon them. She wanted him to grow knowing that he would always be safe in his mother’s embrace, that her breasts even if they had no milk, as a normal mothers should, would always be available to him to feed upon. And as sun was beginning to rise, she would make sure to place her nipple within her little ones mouth. He was too young at the moment to know that this was not what all mothers do, and it would be some years before he ever found out that life for any other was far different than that which he himself had been subjected too. Jasper never cried, something of which Cordelia was always more than content with, she made sure for the most part that he was continuously feeding from her, she would make sure to stick a long pin into the centre of each of her nipples before she woke him, make sure she had a feeding source for herself, normally her husband would attend to such, a nice young girl tied and kept in her waiting room. She would make sure she did at least have some clothing on when the child was alert, but her breasts were always bare for him to suckle on. As her lower body was never covered in the clumsy heavy undergarments. She liked to sit him on her lap, cup one of her breasts and lightly drag her nipple over his soft full innocent little lips, until he would latch onto it. Then as he lay there, cradled in one of her arms, she would lower her free hand and allow her dainty cold fingers to dance over her clitoris, rub, grind and pinch, until she couldn’t help but to pant, even if she had no need to breathe, pant and moan out the only name, she ever wished to moan out, that of her small child’s. Moan it out as she ground her lower body firmly against her own fingers, knowing one day it would be her child’s fingers pleasing her, her child’s fingers, her child’s tongue and then when he was able his manhood. Yes she was full of the fantasy of when he grew older, picturing his face as she would imagine it to look like as he became a young man, wishing, wanting and knowing one day that her dreams would be fulfilled. Maybe one day having another child, a child born of her body, from that of her son, maybe a daughter. Yes she’d like a daughter, one of which she could watch without the need for jealousy, pleasuring her precious son.
The angry knocking at the door, brought her out of her reverie, caused the high she was slowly reaching by touching herself to come to an abrupt end, made her moans cease and the pleasure she was deriving from her little one’s small sharp fangs digging into her soft breast a threatening reminder that she was to hand him over this night.
Angry words passed between father and mother, a sturdy oak door between the pair, preventing either from physically having to deal with the other. It took Eugenie an hour to dress the child, and as she took her time doing so, she talked inconstantly to him of how much she loved him and how much she would n ever willingly hand him over. Jasper had never seen another man in his entire life, his mother refused to feed upon any but young females of which she would at times have the boy feed from though she preferred to drain them completely herself and then suckle the babe. She hadn’t thought of preparing the infant for this moment, as she’d hoped her husband would have forgotten about the deal they had made. The boy was handed over, his head kept turning back to his mother, she would not step a foot out of her rooms, her pale fragile features watching on as he was led from her, his arm trailing out his hand reaching for her, yet she stayed where she was and allowed the ‘man’ to take him.
Memory number one, that had part of making Jasper what he was to become. She allowed this to happen, because she was weak of mind. She allowed it too happen because all the love she professed to feel towards him and him alone, was merely to cover up the fact she had no love for anyone other than herself. She allowed it to happen, because she was lazy and would rather have her food provided for it, than hunt it down for herself. Yet most importantly she allowed it to happen and that was the first lesson he had ever taught himself.
Jasper, had never felt pain, he’d never been harmed, never had to do anything for himself and never had to defend himself or use any of the skills a born vampire finds nature to their own self preservation. He was three years old, had lived in a fantasy land his mother had provided, making it seem as if they were the only two people in the entire world, made it seem that the feeding sources appeared as if by magic, though in actuality, they were provided by this man. This male that smelt merely like a food source, Jasper was too young to question such things, too naïve to realize that he could have killed the man even at such a young age. Too innocent despite being born a vampire to even think of killing as a means to escape that which would happen to him.
He was led down into the bowels of the mansion, deep down into a room that was hidden, a room that was coated in the skins of others. A room where naked males and females dangled from the ceiling, either by hooks embedded in their flesh, or by other means. Some where dead, and waiting being skinned, others were still alive though barely, and others well they were fresh and their blood still dripped down towards the floor. The man encouraged the child to taste of it, as they walked, encouraged him to dance and twirl, helped him to remove his clothing and made him do so all the more, so he could watch the little child’s body as it was coated in the crimson fluid. At first he talked to him softly, encouragingly, talked to him and told him what a good little boy he was, he may well have carried on treating the boy in a more than gentle manner on their first encounter, if it hadn’t been due to Jasper telling him, he was not the first.
Not the first, at what?
The child danced in under the flow of blood, the man came and stopped him after a while and lifted him, laughed gently and swung him around in the air, before he sat him on a wooden table and knelt on the ground, parted the toddler’s little legs and then began to lap at his inner thigh and then higher, claiming he was merely doing so to clean the child, as if he needed to have an excuse to do so. Yet all the child did was giggle, and say his Mother did that all the time.
This was not what Lord Chancy was expecting to hear, not what he wanted to hear. The boy was to be his masterpiece, his creation and he had already been ruined. It didn’t matter that the child was an innocent in all of this, that even if the Lord had spoken of things in a way the child could have understood, nothing mattered the moment Jasper had spoken, the moment the child hadn’t found anything strange in the man’s behaviour. He’d wanted the boy to feel uncomfortable, or at least ponderous about his behaviour. He’d wanted him to wonder and want more, but all he could think about and all that was circulating around in his head, was that he was not the first. He was however the first, to show the boy what a naked male adult looked like, a living one that had not be tortured, even if Lord Chancy’s body was covered in scabs and sores from the various sexually transmitted diseases he suffered from. It didn’t dawn on the small little child, who was not really much more than a babe, that to touch the Lord’s erection was a bad thing, or that the man was taking far too much pleasure from the act, why would it? He was just a child that had until this moment, lived entirely in a room with his mother and only his mother. One of whom had never told him that he had a father, and one of whom had never explained what a father was. It did in ways make Lord Chancy more interested, for now the child’s perception of him as his father was warped, but still it did not break the anger at not being the first to touch upon places with his tongue, that no other should have.
The first orgasm of the night, was an innocent enough affair, merely his seed spurting from his penis and flowing into the air, some splattering against the little one’s body, some mixing with the blood in his golden hair. If the child hadn’t vomited after Lord Chancy had asked him to lick his member clean, maybe things would have been different, if the child hadn’t said he never was sick after feeding from his mother, maybe things wouldn’t have gone the way they did.
Yet Jasper had said such, because he had no reason whilst with his mother not to tell the truth, and Jasper would never forget what happened that night due to doing such.
If he’d been a human child, he would have died, only he was not, and would never be. Lord Chancy, angered, picked up the child and his hand went across the infants mouth, as his other remained tightly upon his tiny little waist and he broke the boys neck with the undue force he used. The boy was like a rag doll as he entered his body, shock, dealing with the pain, insides being ripped apart in the brutal deed, as internal organs were mangled and torn out of place. Unable to defend himself, unable to comprehend what was happening too him. Broken, used and then cast aside, the child was silent. He got returned to his mother shortly before the sun was due to rise, and she was provided with two young women to use as feeding sources. The boy was not summoned to keep his father company for another month, and it near on took that long for the infant to heal from all that the man had broken inside of him.
The next encounter between father and child, was one in which Lord Chancy decided to teach the boy why women were not what his mother had led him to believe them to be, but what he actually managed to install in the child, was that humans were indeed the weaker of races and the only possible need to keep them alive, was as a feeding source. Jasper’s mother had never inflicted any harm on others. She fed from them, to keep both himself and herself alive, his father, the human, now he harmed others of the same species as himself, merely because he could. Jasper didn’t truly see any difference in male humans from female humans. He saw them merely as a human would see a vegetable, food and nothing more. Lord Chancy was attempting to make the child realize that women were the weaker sex, whilst instead he installed the knowledge of just how easy it was to actually kill. As the years passed by, the interactions between father and child, changed from abuse, instruction in how to torture and then how to abuse others. The time spent with his mother, was far different, gentler, enjoyable. It would probably have remained a thing that Jasper looked forward to and enjoyed, if it hadn’t been for his father deciding he needed to teach the boy of other things.
At ten, Jasper was taken to one of the many other rooms in the vaults of the house, a room where there were two other older males, they were both interested in a child they could abuse that would be ready and willing for more. The men had been hand picked by Lord Chancy, rich wealthy men, of whom he owed a great deal of money too. He’d thought it would be a way of ending this debts too them, it did end up as such. Yet not in the way he had imagined. He’d taught Jasper all too well, he’d fed him the fantasy of perfection, he’d told him often enough as he abused him repeatedly, it was his fault for allowing his mother to touch him first in places it was a father’s right too. He’d continually scolded the boy each and every time he’d abused him, told him that he belonged to him, that no other had the right to do that which they did. Yet here he was, in a room with two other adult males, each of whom had their trousers unfastened their limp penises becoming harder the moment Lord Chancy undressed him.
Jasper heard one of them say, “such a perfectly angelic little boy, do his lips service as good as his rear end offers too?”
“He’s my son what do you think?” Came as way of a reply, which brought a fair amount of chuckling from the men present.
And a retort from the other, who had thus far not spoken, “then one assumes, one shall need to remove the little blighter’s teeth first before attempting such.”
Lord Chancy left the room not long afterwards.
Jasper left shortly afterwards, two penises were tossed at his father’s feet, and the naked little wraith said, “if you wish to play with them, they’re not quite dead yet.”
This should have alerted Lord Chancy that the child wasn’t as broken as he imagined he was, yet instead it inspired him. They both died, they’re bodies taken away and easily disposed of. His debts to them both forgotten about. If more of those he owned money too were into children, well he would have solved his entire monetary problems, alas this was not so.
At eleven Jasper reached puberty, his mother was more than pleased, they woke closely entwined with one another, his seed coating her abdomen, she’d knew it was not going to be too much longer. He’d began to grow in other ways, hair had began to sprout in places it had never been before, and she once more was the first. She had waited for that moment oh so long, she’d known that her husband had forced the boy to take his penis into his mouth, she’d known that he’d also do so to the child, but had never managed to truly excite him, she knew because Jasper never kept secrets from her. They were mother and son, she shared his thoughts, stayed with him, as he’d grown older, kept him from brutalizing his father, yet aided him as he had brutalized others, as the time was not yet right for Lord Chancy to be dealt with.
She took his member in her mouth, had her tongue gently coil around his erection, her fangs either side, suckling lightly, not to hard, just enough. Let him move his hips, buck up into her mouth, swallowed his hardening cock, let him ejaculate inside of her mouth, and taught him that not all vampires had to choke and gag every time something other than blood entered their mouths. She’d already taught him how to please her, so it was only fair she gave him the same kind of pleasure, her thoughts still aimed at her perfect picture of life in times to come implanted firmly in her head. Her baby boy loved her, he truly loved her and of course she believed he always would. He lasted longer than she thought he would, but really it should not have been that big a surprise considering how both she and her husband had used the child previous to this. Next lesson was how to suckle from Mother, whilst both their bodies were joined, it was something that Jasper more than assailed at and wanted more often than Cordelia had imagined. It brought human females into their world, not merely to be fed from, but to be played with by both of them. She encouraged him to enter them from the rear for she wanted her vagina to be the only one his penis entered.
The addition of human females, made Jasper realize that though they were easy to kill, they were also fun to play with in ways other than he’d ever thought possible. This led to him revealing the ‘big secret’ his mother had wished him to keep from his father. He wanted to know if it was as much fun playing with the males as the females, his mother wouldn’t let him play with them with her. It broke and imposed upon her happy little family day dream.
At fourteen, Jasper realized that neither of his parents were truly what they’d seemed. He needed neither of them, yet he enjoyed his mother’s company far more than he did his father’s. At fourteen the child was no longer such and proved it. The father was disposed of until the boy could find a better use of him, and the mother was turned into a precious toy but a toy and nothing more.