The Feed

The
Feed

A STORY BY SRIKERSLY &
COPICDOLLSTREAMS

ART BY CAUEBORGESART

Dear whoever the fuck is reading this...

This house sucks - this abusive home. I
guess it isn't even home anymore. Dad
is...was violent. He...inflicted pain - he
made us hurt. Day in and day out. Mom -
well she stood by and watched. She always
did say we were a mistake. We shouldn't be
heard or seen, she would say. So why the
hell would she care if we had our asses
handed to us.
But my brother? Orion O'Shea - my best
friend. He tried to protect me - his little
sister. He always did his best to look after
me. So why the fuck did he leave? To get
stronger? To fight back? or to escape?
I wanted to escape too. Why didn't he take
me with him.

1

Still reading?

I guess Orion did escape. He went off to
join the military early on - tried to provide
for me whereas my parents couldn't. He was
my hero you know? I loved him. I looked up
to him. He was gone for so long.
You know - he used to send pictures - used
to send cheques - he would call, once in a
blue moon. Until he stopped.

Then

Mom and Dad died. I buried them. Alone.
and then I left.

2

Do you want to know more?

I became a P.I Investigator. You know -

the kind that finds people

and...investigates. I found things.

Missing things, broken things. I was good.

So damn good at my job. I was in line for

a promotion - albeit a promotion I'd give

myself - but damn - finding things - what

an easy job.

And then it wasn't so easy. A few nights

into an investigation about a missing girl

from a club - I had finally caught a lead -

but instead of finding her - HE found me.

Or maybe...I was meant to find them. I was

completely enthralled by their scent, their

voice, their touch - I lost myself to them -

and then I lost my life.

3

Where was I?

Yea - so I lost my life. Gone in a blink of
an eye. You know what? Funny enough I
loved them once too - I desired them.

Needed them. I...started to feed from
him...and him from me. I have...had never
experienced such pure and utter lust and
lived in such ecstasy.
Then him, like my brother before...,
vanished. Leaving me with his memories - his
thoughts - these...visions; this insatiable
curious insanity looming in the shadows and
recesses of my mind. And I was thrown into
the zoo. Thrown in like a wild, savage,
feral beast for her pleasure. I always
wondered why he did it. He was always a
curious, fickle bastard - I'm still angry.

4

You can imagine how I felt

I was walking insanity. I had no idea what
was happening - who I was - where I was -
why things like this seemed to happen to me.
But I was there - locked away in her pretty
menagerie.

ORACLE OF THE CAMARILLA
That is what they called me. I was linked
to her - that...evil farce of a woman -
Elizabeth. She is...my blood-bonded wife.
Unwillingly. Oh but how she wanted me -
how she needed me - I was the Oracle. The
best in the business - #1.
I sat in her menagerie - giving her details -
telling her things - the visions never ceased
- they clouded my mind - normalcy no longer
existed. The insantiy continued...continues
to grow and yet she kept coming back.
She...loved me too right?

5

I'm not done - keep reading

I escaped her little fucking menagerie. I
was the best - perhaps am still the best -
but damnit I needed out. My brother was
out there - he had to still live and I
needed...to do something useful. Something
better. Bigger. Greater. I couldn't be that
sad little girl that sat there getting beaten
by her father. I couldn't sit back and just
take it anymore. I needed to take action, as
Orion had. Get out and not be a captive of
someone else's prison.
You know - I remember getting out. How?
Hell if I know - but I ran like hell. Hid
for so long - felt hunger...ferocious,
desperate hunger. I lived in a haunted
apartment - by the ghosts of my past - and
was...am enslaved to the visions and
taxations of my mind. But I AM FREE.

6

I promise I'll be done soon - there is so much
to tell you...

Vyce - Baron Vyce - he...saved me. He
took me in, cared for me, and loved me like
no one ever has - and I love him. I am
dedicated to him. I am loyal to him.
He...he is the father I never had - he is
the father I should have had - the father I
deserved. I...always...forever...I love him
so deeply, it hurts. I've been with him a few
years now...and she...she can't get to me.
Vyce believes in me you know? He trusts
me. I...I know he loves me.

7

Okay - this is it - For now

Although my past may be dark, my heart
hardened, I feel the pain of others, I sense
their desire to improve, to die. I can taste
their hurt on my blackened tongue. I guess
that is just another reason why Vyce likes
me. I'm not the cold, empty shell of so many
others of our kindred kind. I empathize. I
am joy. I am just...well...insane.

My name is Mads O'Shea - Malkavian,
Insane Oracle -

A pleasure to meet you.

8

Mads

Mads' brain was like that of a post-it note

collage. Thoughts flying everywhere like

the Winged Keys in that dreaded Harry

Potter book. No one could piece together

the pieces of her mind, except her. Her

thoughts when she looked at them were

zooming across, but one simple command,

one word, and she knew where everything

was. If anyone else were to look in there,

all they would see is the one word repeated

until the Earth’s end, Curiosity. Her

madness was her calm. All the insanity that

drove her to intelligence was exactly that,

complete and utter nonsense - and yet -

there she was, powerful, controlled, and

insightful. Mads O’Shea was the definition

of madness - just how mad, was a mystery

to those - unless they chose to unlock

Pandora’s box.

10

The
Club

The Nightclub was pumping music through
the air; the sounds of moaning and pleasure
rang from the corners of the rooms that lay
in front of the coterie.

Mads' strange call and vision had them
there tonight, in hopes of finding
information regarding the bodies that had
been popping up around that time.

Mads looks into the rooms in front of her -
bodies writhing in pleasure being dominated
by others of her kind, watching, feeding and
yearning for the pumping veins between
their teeth. This did not interest her.

What interested her was Lazarus Caine - a
man she knew, a man she remembered.

He approaches her - and like all the times
before - she reaches into the veil in hopes
of finding out what he truly wants.

12

Mads awoke from the premonition to feel
the false breath of Lazarus as he whispered
into her ear, "I know what you want - I
know what you need - and I can give it to
you"

Mads O'Shea, Oracle and daughter to Baron
Vyce, is Malkavian, kindred-drinking
Malkavian. A practice so frowned upon that
by most, it is considered blasphemous and
sacrilegious.

Coming from other kindred, cursed beings
themselves, this was not something a
kindred chose lightly. But this was Mads'
way of feeling close to her humanity.

Kindred were already dead and now they
live an eternal life. Others - humans - were
living theirs.

How did Lazarus Caine know? Why did he
want to give himself so willingly to Mads
O'Shea?

There are dangers to drinking from a
kindred so strong, so old, so powerful.
That, and Mads was sure, Vyce would never
approve.

But blood was blood and sometimes, hunger
controls what little sanity you have.

13

the
feed

The room was grey and dark. Leading Mads
by the hand, Lazarus dimmed the already
limited lights. The round bed in the centre
was covered in black satin sheets, and the
illuminated walls were covered in whips,
chains, and toys for every possible
occasion.

It was clear that Lazarus Caine liked to
play, and not always nicely.

Mads kept her eyes of Lazarus, taking in
every escape, every corner, every crack.

She didn't need to look around to see
where she was. This was his room. This
was his domain - and she was about to take
control. Or at least attempt to.

"Sit." She commanded.
Step 1 - complete.
He sat.

15

Mads sat on top of Lazarus, having pushed
him down on the bed. She growled slightly
under her breath.

“Hmm,” fangs descending, she smirked and
touched her tongue over the tip of her
fangs. She peeled his shirt back, revealing
his smooth, muscled chest, touched by the
blush of life. His own fangs, she noticed,
were cascading in preparation, in…
anticipation? Mads wasn’t sure. She could
try to sense his emotions, but already the
thirst made the back of her throat tingle in
excitement. How long had it been?

She was getting off track again. Always.
Her brain.

Whoosh Crinkle Crinkle Whoosh, ding, ding,
clutter. Curiosity.

She bent her head down and dragged her
fangs across his chest, taking in his scent,
feeling the slight warmth of his dead skin,
and swirled her tongue around his nipple.
She smiled again and looked up, “I thought
you didn’t like to submit - yet here you
are.” She pushed him deeper into the folds
of the bed, resting herself on him ever so
slightly.

16

Was this betrayal? This playfulness? This
desire? The intense need - the thirst. All
for a taste. But the danger - the danger was
there, resting under the surface of this false
skin. His lies were palpable.

Again distracted. Always.

Whoosh Crinkle Crinkle Whoosh, ding, ding,
clutter. Curiosity.

Lazurus' eyes flash - golden. If his undead
body could throw heat Mads would have
been sweating. "Am I submitting?" His
fingers dug into Mads’ thighs and pulled her
even closer to his body. There was
undeniable strength and purpose in the
action. The question was there, playful -
but also a sickly sweet threat.

Mads’ eyes gave no hint of the rush that
went through her lifeless body, rather
smirking. She gripped his wrists and moved
his bruising grip to her ass, chuckling
darkly, “Where would be the fun in that? - I
see you Lazarus”

The game was only beginning, and she knew
how dangerous it was. Her lifestyle wasn’t
the easiest, nor desired.

16

If anything she was an outcast, despicable,
detestable, but her reasons were sane.
Rather, sane enough at least for Mads.

A curious worry ransacked her untidied
mind. She knew the risks getting into this.

Lazarus could not be trusted, nor did she
want to trust him. She wondered how she
could turn this into a useful situation, or
maybe turn his desire into uselessness.

Untrustworthy. Suspicious. Dominating.
I see you. I see your desire. Perhaps this
game of yours can be my game as well.

Lazarus rolled his hips against hers and
chuckled darkly as he suddenly surged
forward turning as he did so. So his shirt
fell open around his chest that now lingered
inches above the other kindred.

“Oh Mads O’Shea.” His tone was tender. Like
a caress. One hand moved up her thigh to
her belly and then rib cage, “Is it really a
game you want to play?” that trailing hand
was leaving a blazing path across her body-
He wondered what her skin would feel like
blushed and filled with the flush of life.
“Let yourself be warm…” He dropped his
mouth to her pulse and kissed where the
vein would have been, if Mads O’Shea had
been alive.

17

She knew his meaning- if she didn’t, when
his body flushed with life spurred by his
Vampiric vitae she caught his meaning. This
was to be more. More than a feeding. A
memory of life lost - when they had been
human and able to feel their bodies as they
crashed like waves against the shores of
passions. “Be a good girl and be warm.” His
voice was deep, rumbling through his chest
like thunder- vibrating against her chest.
To drill his tender demand home he ran his
lips up that undead pulse to nip at her
sharp jaw.

Mads sensed his desires. It vibrated
through her core, the trail of flame still
tingling across her body. This was always
the intent. To have more. To do more. She
needed more.

Whoosh Crinkle Crinkle Whoosh, ding, ding,
clutter. Curiosity.

No. no. She wanted more.

The words, “good girl” struck her with
lucidity. Good girl…good girl…good girl…

Mads mind fluttered to a time before where
she would have given anything to hear that…
and then to a time where she wanted to

18

stick pencils in her ears hoping to never
hear it again. Yet…somehow. Somehow the
words he spoke, his voice, made her blood
animate to life, or something similar. Her
body smoothed, her skin flushed with colour
and deep inside her, that cold, dead heart,
beat ever so slightly.

Pulling his face to hers, gripping his
chiseled chin, she kissed along his bottom
lip and savoured his taste. Dragging her
fangs across, she bit ever so slightly, not
enough to draw blood, but enough to show
this was more. “I see you Lazarus.”

Mads drew her tongue across his jaw, up to
his ear. She took his earlobe into her mouth
and sucked ever so gently. Pulling away, she
whispered, “I see you and I want you.” She
chuckled playfully, smirking, “I’d like to see
more of you.”

Lazarus shifted, so he was hovering above
her almost nose to nose. There was a gentle
light shining out from his expression, but it
wasn’t something Mads could read. He was a
kindred, and by nature they were very good
at lying. “Do you like what you see?” as he
spoke he lowered his mouth to her generous
lips. A gentle kiss.

19

He didn’t waste time waiting for her answer
instead sliding down the line of her body so
his face was over her belly, “I think it's only
fair these come off.” He tugged at the
waistband of her pants.

He took a moment to straighten above her
and finished removing his button down,
tossing it above her head. The masculine
landscape revealed, was ropes of deeply
grooved muscles. A matching set of very old
tattoos wrapped around his shoulders and
appeared to crawl across his shoulder
blades and down his spine. A series of criss
cross scars marred his lower abs, but it
wasn’t unsightly. There was a story there.

He went for her waistband then, large
gentle hands paused at the button- golden
eyes flicked up to hers. Asking permission.

Mads’ brain moved quickly as she controlled
her reactions. Knowing what she did of
Lazarus, he wasn’t doing this for the sexual
pleasure she knew she would feel. He was
clearly enjoying himself, the gleam in his
eye was all but dominating his features.
Again and again she had been running this
through her head. She knew that this was a
dangerous game to play, yet a game she
could use to her advantage.

20

The temptation, the desire, the danger - all
appealing to her blood thirst.

Her need for blood was driving her to the
line that couldn’t be crossed - but maybe,
just maybe, it had to be. He is willing to
give Mads’ his blood, but at what cost to
her. She knew the risks, so how could she
bite back, how could she take control?
Thoughts trampling over themselves, post-it
notes flying to every corner of her
impossible mind. Over and over and over
her brain was turning.

Stop.

Whoosh Crinkle Crinkle Whoosh, ding, ding,
clutter. Curiosity.

She snapped to sanity so quickly that not
even a moment’s hesitation had passed when
she looked down at her suitor and smirked.
“I asked if you would be willing to give me
everything, are you a man of your word?”

"You have to be more clear my good girl…"
Lazarus answered while nuzzling her thigh.
He was kneeling now, one knee propped up
as he lifted her slim, lithe muscled legs.
Inside he was fire. Burning and crackling.
How many years had Vyce had this treasure.

21

A Malkavian whose ability to see beyond the
veil extended into actually touching it.
Lazarus had seen Mads reach out and touch
a premonition.

It had been… years now? At the winter fest -
a cheap copy of ancient balls. A knockoff in
a prom dress. Camarilla shits dancing and
drinking the night away as if they were
some glitzy noble bloodline worthy of their
gifts. Winterset had been held in honor of
the prince, Eva Doloreovitch. That had been
before the anarch change.

Lazarus let himself be swooped up in the
memory - his once closest friend was
ignoring him. Had been all night. Any
attempt at a glance on Lazarus' part ended
in a swift turn away by Vyce. All the while
the other Kindred had his arm protectively
around this tiny female. Red hair, pale skin
and wild eyes.

Lazarus had felt fury at first. Jealousy a
mark of the beast within. Until by a fit of
fate the girl was abandoned by Vyce. Left on
the balcony…alone.

He took the chance and moved in. Circling
her she was whispering and the closer
Lazarus got the more he could hear.

22

"No I can't… tell me your name… then I
can't." She reached out to nothing and
Lazarus hid. Melting into the shadows like
ink.

"Yes… but you have to tell me who you are…
oh…"

Lazarus saw her hand clasp around
something must larger than her own. Swirls
of bent light and iridescent colors twisted
around the hand of something invisible that
Mads had touched.

The air shimmered and suddenly the lights
from the party dimmed. Lazarus felt his beast
begin to growl. Another man was forming,
being pulled from wherever Mads had
witnessed him into the here and now.

"What are you doing!" Lazarus shouted. The
girl - Mads, jumped and let go. The man who
had been stepping into whatever reality this
was vanished with a pop.

Mads had spun to look at him, blinking into
the lights as they brightened once again. Her
face was an impassive mask.

"Hello Lazarus Caine."

23

Her voice when directed at him was a
pressured punch to his reality. If he had a
heart it would have been pounding.

Returning to the here and now Lazarus slid
down to her feet and began to remove her
shoes. "We both know this is going to
happen… I can tell how hungry you are
sweetheart. " He didn't look up from his
task, unlacing and pulling off her sneakers.
One by one. His movements were meticulous
tugging the cords loose until they were
even. He set each shoe down-as if it were
made of glass.

Suddenly he spoke, capturing her gaze with
a shocking steady leer, "So bite me." His
voice was husky, nonchalant in the same
way it was commanding.

She wrapped her legs around his neck,
caressing his cheek with her thighs, “Not
until you’ve tasted me first.” She stared at
him intently. Throwing every bit of
command into her voice that she could
muster. Unafraid, unabashed, knowing that
she needed him to submit, to give in, to
take her as she would take him.

Lazarus’ smiled like a fox in dark, “Oh
Mads-” He tsked and pushed his palms

24

between her locked thighs only to pry them
open with a sure swiftness that was as
gentle as a bed of flowers.

He pushed his mouth to the seam of her
jeans and ran his fangs along the threading.
“Do tell me exactly what you want me to
taste~” a pumping purring sound was filling
the air. Mads could feel the vibration in his
massive shoulders. Like a satisfied beast
between her legs.

His deft hands started with the button of
her jeans before opening the zipper. If his
heart could have beat it would have been
pounding. He wanted this Malkavian as
badly as he wanted dominion over Salem.
More than he cared to admit- more than he
was brave enough to admit.

Though his hands were smooth as he tugged
her jeans down over the curve of her
backside, his thighs were quivering. The
emotional response was strange to his
kindred considerations. Was he truly
nervous? He thought, how exciting. He
continued to grin, slowly peeling the denim
down revealing his prize.

Her legs were lean, muscled like a dancer
and so pale. Red would look beautiful

25

against her complexion and all those tiny
freckles, he decided.

He stood now, tossing her jeans above her
head, “Good girls don’t keep their Daddy’s
waiting.”

He smirked, impishly, which looked far more
sinister than he’d intended but that was just
his face. A sculpted apex predator, playing
at cheeky flirting.

She licked her lips in devious delight. Her
thighs continued to tremble as she stared at
his murderously handsome face. Her mind
fought to stay focused on the pleasure that
urged her - no - begged her to take - to bite
- to devour - to find rapture in something
so dangerous. Grabbing his hand from her
hip, she dragged his smooth, nervous hands
down to the dampness that soaked through
the small piece of fabric. Pressing his hand
against her arousal, she then moved his
hand over to caress her femoral artery in
her inner thigh, pumping ever-so-slightly
her vampiric essence. Tapping fingers
lightly in time to her quickened heart, she
drew his attention there and smiled with an
intake of air.

“If only I were a good girl, Lazarus Caine.”

26

Lazarus’ eyes focused, narrowing in on her
sex and then that vein. His chest was
squeezing and his breath- thanks to the
blush of life- was tunneling out of his lungs
like a freight train. Her voice was a sweet
sound. Melodious, haunting. Like it had
been at the Winter’s party. He felt his fangs
punch down into his mouth. He wanted this,
wanted her.

Like a great cat he lunged- striking the
vein. He sealed his lips around her thigh
and drew deep. Mads could feel the head
rush the spinning ecstasy of being bitten.
There was so much more than just a feeding
here. Some type of chain- a link drawing
him into her.

Sheer inexhaustible pleasure came from the

sounds of his throat bobbing at her thigh as

he consumed her vampiric essence. Each

gulp, each rasped breath, made the hidden

muscles, sore, desperate and left wanting.

This was more than drinking, this was

consuming, completely and utterly

dominating. Her thoughts were lost in the

desire and need to feel him pulsating inside

of her, to feel the blood pooling from his

mouth into hers, to feel his unlife become

part of her. This thirst was insatiable and

insistent.

27

She slowly sunk back into the pillow,
spreading her thighs further and further
apart, seeking- no- pleading for more of
him - all of him. Whatever it took. Nothing
was too much anymore. She stifled the small
sounds that creeped out of her lips and her
back arched, aching to be filled.

With each pull from the vein in her thigh,
she felt her centre tighten. His indulgence
in this kindred taboo, the feel of his tongue
lapping at her blushing thighs, made Mads’
mind dance like the citizens of Strasbourg.
All sense of clarity left her and she tried to
remember, tried to justify this dangerous
game. Vyce. Something about - desire
rushed through her as his thumb that had
been gripping her thigh came up and
brushed against her labia, barely parting
her before retreating. She bucked at his
touch and heard the dark, venomous
chuckle from the man at her thigh. The hum
of his voice made her arousal pool - no -
think - please - oh god please - his hot
breath was like a feather on Mads’ sex.

“Oh Mads O’Shea -, he spoke, his voice
sending a flame through her body. His eyes
were focused on the thin fabric that kept
his treasure from him. He took a hold of the

28

now-soaked prison that locked her away
from his mouth, and tore it off as if it were
nothing. He adjusted his grip on her thighs
to wrap them around and pulled her hot,
pounding sex to his mouth, where his
experienced tongue teased her clit with
seductive whispers and deadly touches.
Mads ground her wet, aching arousal into
his lashing tongue, only to feel him pull
away and lap the wound on her thigh. She
bit back a pained moan, needing him to
come back to her, to punish her clit with his
tongue. And so he did, dragging her blood
across her thigh, all the way to her centre,
he made time stop, truly immortalising this
moment, and struck her clit with enviable
force. Her thoughts moved inaudibly
through her mind, a fleeting image, too
nebulous to be a vision reminds her - Vyce!
This was important - this had to mean
something…and then, it was gone, lost in
the heady fog of the desire to feed and fuck.

He moved his tongue across her clit, not
needing permission as she slowly pulsated
in anticipation for his fingers that trickled
up to her opening.

She gave in to the feel of his fingers inside
of her, moaned deeply and bucked her hips
as he pushed further inside of her.

29

A man, centuries old, was touching her,
feeling her most sensitive areas, and
drinking from her. His eyes flicked to hers
in lethal desperation. The usual brutal, and
handsome eyes seemed to harden and beg to
be taken. All sense left her and the need to
feel him fill the emptiness and hunger that
plagued her, had Mads O’Shea choking - no
sobbing to take it all. Taking his face in her
hands, she pulled him from her leg and
dragged his mouth to hers. Her blood
flowed from his lips to hers. Completely and
utterly lost to him, tasting her blood in his
mouth as his tongue pressed itself deeper,

Mads moaned into him. The feral growl
grew desperate, craving as she wrapped
herself tightly around his naked form. His
hands continued to explore her body,
moving from her rounded, perfectly
delectable ass to the small of her back, until
he caressed her, pulling her closer. She
rocked against him, urging this dance
between them to a final waltz, and moved to
turn him on his back. Moving to settle over
his body, she smiled down at him, feigning
dominance, and hiding the shadows that
plagued her inconsolable mind. She waited
for his length to tease at the mouth of her
arousal and nestled her lips on his neck.
Mads tongued at the soft, delicate skin
between his tattooed shoulders and the
gently flowing blood beneath it.

30

Feeling the breath leave his body in a
ragged expulsion, she dragged her fangs
across his skin and whispered, “You’re all
mine.” Mads sinfully sheathed his hard
member inside of her pulsating pool of
moisture, and bit down into his vein,
drinking in her very own ecstasy.

Her mouth worked at his throat while he
worked below, bucking up into her as they
rode the waves of ecstasy, together. The
feeling of her fangs and the pull of his vitae
into her. It was heady and delicious. It was
the desperate line of heaven and hell; of
feeding and frenzy. It was better and so
much more than he would have ever
expected. It was one step into the light and
then a giant leap into oblivion. If this
exchange between them would have
required Lazarus to look at the dawn, He
would have. With vigor-flipping the burning
star off with a laugh as he ashed to nothing.
When she came and went loose and limp he
cradled her. His greatest treasure.

“You’re all mine, Mads O'Shea..” he
whispered while he adjusted so she could be
more comfortable. His next move was
incredibly gentle and so out of character, a
kiss. Placed on the top of her head as his
hands came up to caress her face.

31

Mads O’Shea lied there, the fog slowly
clearing. The dwindling afterglow left her
filled, full, yet somehow empty. The flitting
papers that tortured her mind, stopped and
slowly drifted to the ground like a feather
from a nest. The thoughts that had been lost
in the throes of passion, became coherent
once again. For all it was worth, all the love
she bore Vyce, all the things he had done
for her, there was something, there had to
be something she could give him through
this. So many possible consequences, so
many disastrous ends. But she wanted to -
no needed to believe there was benefit in
this dance with insanity.
She just hoped he would forgive her.

32