His hand gripping my throat too tight for comfort but not tight enough for death, he led me in to the locker room. As the tears began to stream down my face he grabbed at my breasts and licked up the side of my neck to my ear. He bit into my ear lobe as he ripped the front of my shirt away spilling buttons and blood in unison to the floor. I could feel reality slipping away as I realized I would soon become just like him, a mere wraith in the world with no soul or faith to hold onto. He slapped the side of my face hard to snap me back to the pain he would soon be inflicting.
He was a master at such abuse; many women had succumbed to his original smiles and compliments only to be led to this very same demise. I say demise in the meaning that this was the end but death would have been so much sweeter. The future that beheld them would be one of selling flesh and souls, draining blood and humanity from every man that was foolish to glance their way. Most of them had been women that would forever look eighteen, ever so useful in the trade of prostitution. However, I was nearing my 32 birthday, so my eternal look was not something of use to this little clan.
No, it was my talent of writing; this would beguile men into the web. They would become fodder for the vamps in order of rank until those that would be last to feed would be scurrying around biting at one another to survive.
So here we have this inevitable descent into this world of lure and feed, it was just too easy for the seniors to pass up. When they seen how easy it was too get food with the use of the ladies of the night, it was a set way of life. The ease of acquired food coupled with the money that they made off the victims whether they became dinner or not seemed to be a free pass to their future.
