VAMPIRE MERMAIDS OF THE FROZEN NORTH

By C

It had been a good morning for Emerald. She had tempted another seal hunter to the water's edge and pulled him in, where it was no trouble at all to drain him of his blood.

She needed the warmth of fresh blood to keep out the chill of the Northern Sea, and this foolish hunter had served her quite nicely.

It was time now to rest. There was an ice floe nearby and she pulled herself onto it. It was a kind of ice hill, with many jagged ridges, so she had to squirm up to the top, then scout around for a comfortable depression in which to take her nap. Once she found just the right place, she stretched out on her back.

If you saw her then, you'd most likely be struck speechless; for hers was a strange, sinister beauty. She was a mermaid. Down to the groin, she seemed a pale, black-haired woman; further down, she had a powerful, slate-gray dolphin's tail. You'd note that her hair was straight and thick, reaching to her shoulders, and her eyes were a startlingly bright green. Her face was perfectly proportioned, but you could never mistake it for human: for one thing, her lips and eyelids were black, like her hair; for another, her upper canines were long and sharp, like a cat's. These would gradually retract, as the memory of her meal faded, but for now they were at their full extent. (Just then, she touched each fang with her tongue and sighed with pleasure. Her mouth quirked into a smile--a sneer, really, of more than human insolence.) Midway between her throat and bosom, you'd spy a precious green stone, half-buried in her pale flesh. It was one of the ancient Jewelles of Puissance, affording her speed and strength, as well as the power to beguile. It was also the source of her name: Emerald. Looking down past the jewel, you'd marvel for a time at the mermaid's bosom: the breasts were big and tipped with sharp black nipples; and though they were invitingly soft, you'd know they were fated never to wrinkle or sag. Next you'd see a smooth swell of tummy, gently curved hips, and a plump, hairless mons Veneris , bisected by a delicate genital slit. Viewing her, you would desire her, knowing as you did that you were courting blood-hungry ruin.

What could have engendered such a creature? If you knew mostly the more civilized parts of Mythica, you would take it for granted that two Principles infused the World: the Male and Female. The Male (source of all reason and order) ruled the Female, and that was as it should be. Women were happy for the most part to be ruled, though from time to time they rebelled in some small way or other. No great matter: you'd take your girl's panties down, give her a good hard spanking, and send her crying to her bed. Then, in an hour so, you'd come up to cuddle and forgive her. She'd reaffirm her submission in tearful gratitude; and that would be the end of it, until the next petty insurrection.

You knew of course that out in the wilds of Mythica, where fays dwell, rebellion was a far bigger, more dangerous and destructive affair. The Female Principle was always stronger among fays, even among the males, and so they all displayed, in varying degrees, its characteristics: ungoverned passion, reckless sensuality, an impatience with, sometimes amounting to a hatred of, order and law, and an incurable taste for the glamour of wickedness. Some fay species had even dispensed with males! You'd laugh uneasily at mention of such depravity; but you knew that order and justice prevailed, even in the wild. Brave hunters patrolled the outlands, catching enough fays to keep the rest within bounds, and relentlessly pursuing the most evil and aggressive. The Male Principle was embattled, but always, in the end, triumphant. The bitter tears of captured fays were daily testimony to that triumph.

But was it always and everywhere thus? You might be unsettled to learn that, in the frozen outer reaches of Mythica, the darkest, most chaotic avatar of the Female Principle had staked her claim. From her were descended Emerald and her sisters and cousins, and for many years they had not faced a serious challenge. The Vampire Mermaids had gone from strength to strength, and now desired new climes in which to gratify their lust, their cruelty, their greed. So far, only the most daring or desperate of merchants and the hardy Northern tribesmen had been their victims; but now they were eyeing the warmer waters to the South.

Emerald fell asleep in her little cubby on the ice floe and dreamt of sunny beaches. She had hunted for days without sleeping—not difficult for a mermaid—but fatigue at last had its way with her. The sun mounted the sky, then descended. At dusk, a snow storm blew out over the floe and covered her in a soft, white sheet. Even unconscious, she felt it, and gave a contented sigh.

It was almost noon on the next day when the ice shook beneath her and her ears were assailed by a grinding, crunching racket. She awoke and tried to shake off the snow, but there was too much; it filled the depression in which she'd spent the night. So she pulled herself out with some difficulty and set out to discover what had so rudely disturbed her sleep.

The sound had come from the west, so she slithered in that direction, up ridges and down declivities, until she reached a small cliff-edge, about ten feet above the water. Just as she got there, she heard something she had not heard in many years, and it made her shudder: the raw, pain-racked weeping of mermaids.

She looked down, and the source of the tremor was apparent: another floe, much lower and flatter, had just collided with hers. Nothing remarkable in itself; but what she saw on the sheet of ice beneath almost made her cry out in horror. On their backs, in a tidy row, were ten—no, eleven--of her partners in crime. There was brunette Opal, and blonde Garnet, and green-haired Sapphire,--in fact, she knew them all. Sharp teeth (it would seem) had punctured their breasts, so that each girl now lay in a pool of scarlet. They were trying to raise their hands to their wounded bosoms, but, weakened as they were, they could not. Their bodies shook, and now and then one of them, in her agony, would smack the ice with her tail. Their faces were red and swollen, their eyes awash with tears. And the sound! Oh, how they wailed, and sobbed, and groaned! Clearly their hearts were broken beyond repair, and it made Emerald weep to hear them.

Having seen their wounds, and how they'd been laid out on the ice, Emerald knew beyond a doubt the identity of their captor. A Seawolf had taken each girl in his fatal embrace. But how? Seawolves were redoubtable hunters, but mere animals. Vampire Mermaids, as clever and cunning as any human being, had long ago discovered talismans beyond whose boundaries no seawolf could pass. It had been a hundred seasons at least since Emerald had last viewed one of their ghastly trophy lines. But somehow, despite powerful protections, that hunter most feared by mermaids had gotten through.

Just then, something big emerged from the water at the far edge of the trophy floe. Emerald gasped and pulled back behind a parapet of ice. From here (she hoped), she could see what happened without being detected. She looked and did not make a sound. It was a seawolf, of course. He had the toothsome head and wickedly clawed forelimbs of a terrestrial wolf; but he was twice as big. From snout to groin, he wore a shaggy, silver pelt, much thicker than a wolf's. Past that, he had the tail and flukes of a killer whale, with the same black and white coloring. At the juncture of wolf and whale, he sported a large, perpetually erect cock. She got a good look at it at as he heaved himself out of the water; and, almost unconsciously, she reached down with one hand to shield her pussy.

The seawolf had something in his mouth. As he exited the water, Emerald could see that he had caught yet another mermaid and was bringing her in by the tail. She had some spunk left and was jerking and thrashing furiously. Her captor seemed unperturbed. When he had gotten her completely out of the water, he pulled her over to the trophy line and placed her, squirming, bucking, and crying, next to the others. (Her breasts were bitten and bleeding, just like her sisters'.)

This girl had white hair, reaching all the way to her waist. It was Pearl , one of Emerald's most vicious rivals! (Well, here was good news for once!) In addition to her frantic struggles, Pearl could still use her arms: she clutched her wounded torso with her left hand and cupped her cunt with her right. Suddenly the seawolf batted the left hand away (it seemed to take no effort at all) and bit her once again on her bosom. Hearing her scream, Emerald, despite herself, felt a surge of pity.

While all this was happening, Emerald had leaned out further and further from her icy cover. Just then, with what must have been her last strength, Pearl raised her right arm, extended her index finger, and thrust it in Emerald's direction. The seawolf looked up and saw her.

"Oh, you resentful bitch!" she said under her breath. The wolf left Pearl with the others and pulled himself with surprising speed towards Emerald's floe. She gave out a little scream, then took off as fast as she could, back the way she'd come. She was going downhill now, and in her mad haste she lost her grip on the ice and began tumbling head over tail down the rough slope. She hit bottom with a bone-shaking thud. No time to catch her breath: gasping, she clawed her way to the water's edge and hurled herself in. She looked about her and almost cried out. The wolf was there, just ten feet or so away, with his head turned in another direction.

As he swung back toward her, she took off, beating the water with her tail in desperate fear. Her gemstone glowed brightly as she called on its power. How did he get here so fast? she asked herself. Then she decided there was no more time for thought; she was swimming for her very life. A mermaid moves through the water faster than a seawolf; but the wolf has greater staying power. If he's hell-bent on catching her, she must give him the slip, or she's finished. Knowing this, she set her course for a sunken merchant ship not far away. She'd duck inside it and lose him somewhere in its belly. After a few minutes, without slowing down one bit, she looked back . . . and to her indescribable relief, the wolf had broken off the chase and was returning to what he had already caught. She slowed down, but she continued to the wreck nonetheless and buried herself in its hold.

The next morning, after a less than satisfactory sleep, she slipped through a rent in the hull of the ship and headed out toward the nearest talisman. This was an idol from the Southern Seas, tied firmly to a rock outcropping with scavenged metal cable. The mermaids had gotten it, and five others like it, from a sea witch, in return for revealing the whereabouts of much sunken treasure. It was worth every ducat and doubloon; for no hunter feared by mermaids could pass the barrier that it created. All six together made a magic circle, many miles in circumference, within which the mers were safe. Or so they had believed.

She thought the idol might have come loose from its mooring somehow. If so, the field of magic force could have been breached. All she'd need to do then was to find the little statuette and return it to its place. She got to the outcropping, and sure enough, the cable was swaying loosely in the current. But the idol hadn't drifted off; it was lying there on the rock, smashed into hundreds of fragments. It had been a crude and ghastly sculpture of a mermaid, with long canine teeth; now it was shattered beyond recognition. This side of the mermaid refuge had been thrown open to seawolves and every other predator—and nothing could be done about it.

Had the beast done this? It was a mere animal; it couldn't have known the significance of the ugly little figurine! Then who? Emerald shuddered and drew her hands protectively over her trembling breasts. It seemed clear to her now that a far more deadly enemy was at work. Some wizard perhaps—an intermeddling servant of the Male Principle. Wizards could be countered and even destroyed, but it would take a lot more treasure, paid to the right sort of witch . . . .

As she mulled over the possibilities, she almost missed the telltale surge of water against her skin, displaced by something approaching at great speed. She looked up and saw the seawolf, just yards away, its jaws gaping wide, its forelimbs reaching to seize her.

She gave a little shriek, then took off, swimming for all she was worth. Her plan was to return to the sunken ship and lose the monster there. Today, the beast showed no sign of flagging. He followed her, sometimes within feet of her madly thrashing tail, all the way to the old wreck. Her gem flared at first; then, after a few minutes, it began to dim. She hadn't eaten in two days, and she was calling on the last of her reserves. She almost wept with relief when the ship came into view.

It had been a rusted, dirty merchant hulk, barely seaworthy when the mermaids had descried it a century before. They had come to the surface and ensorcelled its captain, so that he ordered it right into the path of an iceberg. In just minutes, the gash torn in the starboard side of its bow took it to the bottom with all hands. What a joyous day that had been! The fear and agony of the crew were nourishing food, as was their blood. But this was no time to reminisce. Emerald saw an open hatch, too narrow for a seawolf, and darted in.

The trick now was to lie low in some compartment of the ship, until the hunter gave up the chase. She coaxed her gem till its light had all but gone out, so that its gleam would not betray her. She didn't need it to see: her vision was so keen that she could find her way in all but pitch darkness. Soon she located the galley and snuggled in behind a stove that had shifted from its original place when the ship sank. She knew exactly how to get from here to the huge tear in the bow, should she need to make a dash for it. She was making herself comfortable when she heard a horrible noise, at the galley bulkhead opposite the one by which she'd entered. There was a heap of metal debris there, including another stove, and there was the seawolf, muscling it all aside.

How had he entered the ship so fast? How had he figured out her hiding place? No matter. She would leave him struggling here and make her escape through the breached bow. She dashed in that direction, past bulkhead after bulkhead. She was almost there

. . . and there he was, waiting for her!

It just couldn't be! She turned and swam frantically back the way she'd come. She heard more noise in the galley, so she bypassed that and made for the engine room, which was amidships. She got there, just in time to hear another frightful crash, right behind her, so she started up again. She was beginning to tire: the muscles in her tail were aching, her tummy was cramping up, and it was getting harder to breathe. But worse than this: she was being forced toward the stern, from which she knew there was no easy escape.

She found a stairwell. Surely this led to the deck. It might be her last chance, so she followed it up, up, up. Oh please, Dark Feminine Force, she silently prayed, Oh please don't let it be battened down!

She saw sunlight and blue water. Her spirits rose within her, her fatigue dropped away, and she shot out of the old hulk into the open sea. And just then the wolf caught her in his hateful embrace.

She struggled madly to break free, but it was no use: his forelimbs held her like hoops of iron. She tried to push him away and clawed at his face with her sharp nails, but his fur made these harmless. His jaws opened and quickly closed—his teeth penetrating her right breast. She shrieked then, in pain and mortal fear. As always when she was in any way excited, her fangs extended. She plunged these into his snout, in a desperate effort to make him let go. He did, but only to bat her head savagely with his own. Stunned, she released her grip, and he again sank his teeth in her breast. She shrieked again.

Unlike a true wolf's teeth, his were hollow needles, pumping an incapacitating venom into her body. It made her tremble uncontrollably, and caused strange perturbations in her groin and tummy. Desperation kept her fighting for a while, but at last the venom told, and her arms dropped nervelessly to her sides. She cried out then: a high, thin, heartbroken wail. As if to make completely sure of her, he bit her once more--this time on her left breast. She wailed again, as hopelessly as before. He let go of her now, but only to take her tail in his jaws and pull her back with him toward his ice floe. Still trembling madly, her arms trailing uselessly behind her, Emerald began to weep: great gulping sobs that wracked her body from her head to the tips of her flukes.

As she carried on, she looked back and saw something that chilled her, more than the frigid water around her ever could. Three other seawolves were following this one.

So that was how she'd been caught! Not one, but several hunters, and they'd herded her right into a trap. But it just could not be! Seawolves were solitary creatures, and surely they weren't smart enough to do what these appeared to have done. Some terrible magic must be afoot. Having nothing else to do, she went back to her weeping.

When he reached the ice floe, the wolf pulled her from the water with no ceremony at all and laid her out, belly up, next to her confederates. The victims of the day before were gone, and a new clutch of mermaids trembled and wept, hurt as they all were by cruel teeth. Emerald counted: including her, twelve mers were crying their pretty eyes out. Beside her was a blue-haired girl named Tourmaline, who was sobbing and calling to her mother—harpooned by fishermen years ago when she had lingered too long on the ice.

The wolf rolled onto his side, giving Emerald a closer view of his membrum virile. It was ten or so inches long and about an inch thick. She took note of its dimensions, and for the first time relief came over her, stilling the trembling of her injured bosom. The seawolves had changed in many horrible ways, but not in size or shape. She had a chance (more than a chance) of surviving this encounter. The hunter flopped over onto his back; and before long he began snoring. Within the next few minutes, five of his brothers came up onto the ice and stretched out for a nap (all within easy reach of the captured girls).

It was hard at first for Emerald to get any rest. Her breasts ached, and the chill of air and ice were beginning to tell. It was the hot blood of her victims that kept the cold out, and her last meal was a fading memory. She began to shiver. At least Tourmaline had finally quieted down. I just have to steel myself, she thought. I have to say to myself again and again: I'm proof against any effort by these creatures to destroy me. At last, reassured, she slipped into unconsciousness . . . .

She awoke with an achingly full groin, and she shuddered to see the wolf staring down at her. He moved more quickly than she could have believed possible, jabbing a single claw into her tummy just below the navel. Screaming, she tried to raise her hands, but could not. The urine gushed from her in a foaming stream, then drizzled down her sides to the ice. The wolf then went to Tourmaline and made her scream and spurt as well. The other girls got the same treatment from their captors. The coppery aroma of blood now contended with a perfume of vinegar and honey. Despite herself, Emerald felt her pussy moisten.

Having caused this eruption, the wolves now bent down and, with evident gusto, licked up the efflux. When they'd cleaned up the ice and the girls' flanks, they turned their attention to pussies. Rough tongues wiped the pee from each twat, then darted inside for more of the tangy treat. It was all surprisingly gentle: the girls squealed, and cried, and pounded the ice with their tails, but the real agony was yet to come.

Not much longer, though. As the wolves probed and licked, their cocks, always erect, grew ever more stiff and swollen. Now, when it seemed they could get no harder, each beast straddled one of his victims. The captor of Emerald and Tourmaline evidently wanted the blue-haired girl first.

"No! No!" Tourmaline cried. "Oh great Darkness, please . . . not my pussy, no!" Then she just shrieked and shrieked as she was penetrated. Five other victims soon carried on in much the same fashion.

This was the way of the seawolf: killing with his cock. Several hard thrusts, and soon the girls' bodies were wracked by death orgasms. Oh how they groaned and wailed! They came, and came, and came, and blood-suffused honey poured from their cunts. The beasts would withdraw, just long enough to lick up big dollops of it; then the lethal fucking would resume.

I know I can survive this! said Emerald to herself. I know I can! But could she really? Only the event would tell.

Six girls gave their last despairing whimpers, flicked their tails a few times, and were still. The wolves pulled out their hateful weapons, slick with blood and pussy liquor, and rested for a bit.

And then it was time for the six who remained. As she was violated, Emerald shrieked like the others, for it felt at first as if her vagina were being torn open. Before long, of course, pain was joined by that unspeakably sweet pleasure which is a captured fay's solace. But Emerald soon noticed something strange. The other girls began to shake and convulse, groaning and wailing as fatal orgasms overcame them. But despite one savage thrust after another, it was much gentler for her. I may indeed pull through, she thought, I may indeed.

And so it happened. Five more girls gave up their wicked ghosts, but Emerald was not among them. Still laboring on top of her, her captor brought his face close to hers and bared his teeth. "You seem to be made of sterner stuff than your sisters," he growled.

"Y-you talk? You can talk?" she said with a shudder.

"Yes," he replied, pulling out of her at last. "The Female Principle has had its way for far too long up here in the North. So, at last, the Male Principle looked to us, the chief hunters of mermaids, and refined us. We're smarter now, far more effective."

"Able to plan together . . . knowing the meaning of magic symbols," said Emerald. "That explains everything."

"Indeed," said the seawolf. "We couldn't have wiped out your branch of this wicked Northern family otherwise."

"Wiped out? I still seem to be breathing."

"Yes you do. The usual method of pest control doesn't seem to work in this case. I've fucked you and fucked you . . . you've even come a few times—and still you live. Would you care to tell me your secret?"

Emerald laughed. "You surely don't think I'm that stupid, do you?"

"Not at all," said the seawolf. "But we've run into something similar before. Let me ask if it didn't happen like this. You had commerce with a powerful sea witch, perhaps the one who set up that protective barrier. And you knew something your mermaid accomplices didn't: the resting place of additional treasure, aside from what you all used to buy the talismans. With that knowledge, you struck a bargain for extra protection—a spell that would benefit only you. Suitably paid, the witch made you immune. A seawolf's cock won't kill you now."

"You want some sort of admission out of me?" said Emerald with a sneer.

"Not at all. I know that's exactly what happened."

"Well, what of it then? If that's what happened, you can't kill me. And there are certain rules you flunkies of the Male Principle have to follow, as I recall. One of them . . . let me try to remember it now . . . ah, that's it: if you can't kill a fay, you have to let her go."

"I can't kill you, eh? I think that has yet to be proved."

"Well, if you still have doubts, I suggest you resolve them very soon, or you'll be the one in trouble with your precious Male Principle."

"Let's see," said the seawolf. "No spell can shield a fay from everything that might destroy her. That's another rule. The magic the witch performed makes you proof against seawolves . . . as we once were. But, as you already know, we've changed. Like my predecessors, I'm part whale, part wolf, but unlike them I can, if I choose, favor one side of my nature over the other."

"W-what do you mean?" asked Emerald. Only now was she beginning to worry.

"Well, I can make my teeth and claws longer, sharper, if it suits me, or . . . I can . . . I can . . . bring the whale . . . to the forefront." And here he howled, as if in great pain. He turned over, onto his back, and Emerald cried out when she saw the change now taking place. His cock was growing longer, and thicker, more like the manly member of a true killer whale. Soon it was two feet in length, and at least three inches thick at the base.

When it had reached these impressive dimensions, he let out a long, gasping sigh and said: "It can grow a lot more, but this'll do." Then he straddled her once again.

"Now wait, wait, wait!" cried Emerald. "I mean, I know where there's other treasure

. . . I'll tell you, I swear, I'll . . . Aaaahhhhhhhhhh!" And she kept on screaming as he rammed his weapon home. It filled her cunt, then burst through into the seething core of fluids and magical forces that gave life to her wickedness.

"Do I still have to let you go?" said the wolf in a harsh, rasping whisper.

It wasn't long before orgasmic tremors, much harder than her sisters had suffered, began to shake Emerald's body. She groaned with each spasm, and she twisted and thrashed in the wolf's embrace. But he held her tight, crushing her to the ice. There could be no escape.

Near the end, she cried out: "Oh! Oh! Oh! I'm . . . fucked! I'm so completely fucked! You've . . . mastered me . . . and I have to obey! You have the cock (sob!), I have the pussy (choke!), and I have to be a good little girl! I'm being good! I'm being good! Can't that . . . count for something? Ohhhhhh, fuck, fuck, fuck!"

"This is how it counts," said the wolf. "You can endure your punishment now with proper, ladylike submission. It's easier that way. And stop saying 'fuck'."

"Y-yes, my Master. Oh, . . . oh, . . . ohhhhhhhhhhhh!"

As she moaned, a superheated mix of blood and mer-nectar bubbled up from inside her. Scalded, the seawolf yipped and quickly withdrew. But it was too late for Emerald. She came again, and again, and again. She came until every drop of moisture within her was expelled; and only then did her body grow still. Only then did the light in her gem fade and finally disappear. When the wolf saw she was dead, he pulled the jewel from her fast cooling flesh and tossed it onto a heap of similar stones.

Another wolf slithered up to have a look at Emerald. "She was a tough customer, eh?"

"Yes," said her captor, still nursing his groin.

"Well, what do you say we dig in and eat?

"Go right ahead. I'll be another minute or so."

THE END