(Author's note: A few things should be noted before the kind and daring reader continues. First and foremost, this is not a nice story. It contains blood, violence, non-consensual sex, and a number of other naughty things. It also contains one Cinnamon DeWolf, and Eric, his vulpine man-servant/slave. Cinnamon and Eric are copyrighted characters (the creator wishes to remain anonymous due to the belief his association with the character may cause work-related issues.), and are used with permission.
As a side-note, I ought to mention that this story is to some extent a "sequel" in-as-much as it was written as a response to a rather sadistic story that was written by the creator of Cinnamon and Eric. That being said, the brave-hearted may read on...)



"An Acquired Taste"
A "sequel" to Cinnamon's gothic tale.
© Zoe Kimmel aka Jeremy "Wolf" Kidd, 1993



          Cinnamon awoke with a start, certain he had heard a knocking. He paused, perfectly still but for his ears swiveling to catch a sound. Nothing but Erik's soft breathing at the foot of the bed. Cinnamon snorted, then shivered. What sort of fool would be out on a frozen night like this?
          He had just laid his head on the pillow, when he heard it again; a faint rapping sound. Someone was knocking at the door!
          "Erik!", Cinnamon hissed. There was a sleepy whine in response. Cinnamon drew back a foot and kicked, knocking the fox off the end of the bed. Erik fell to the floor with a loud thump.
          "Sir?", whimpered the fox, peering trembling over the end of the bed.
          "There's someone at the door. Go answer it. Now."
          Hastily, the fox padded out of the room and down the hall. It was cold in the house at night, and he was naked, but he didn't dare pause to dress. Cinnamon would punish him if he disobeyed, and Cinnamon had said "Now.".
          Erik hurried down the stairs, shivering at the cold air, and the frigid tiles under his feet. Halfway down, there was another knock.
          "Erik!" came Cinnamon's bellowed voice "Get that door, damn you!". Erik stumbled and nearly fell in his haste, catching the banister with a gasp. He scurried across the entrance and fumbled with the locks. The door, once opened allowed in a rush of frozen air that chilled him to the bone. He stood, shivering, and stared at the figure on the doorstep.
          For her own part, she was shivering and staring right back, probably a little nonplused to be greeted at the door by a naked fox. She was a fox herself, about five feet tall, titanium white with electric blue eyes. She was obviously not clad for the outdoors, wearing a cut-off T-shirt, jeans, and a light jacket.
          "Excuse my waking you please, but may I use your telephone? My automobile has gone off the road, and I must call for assistance.". She had a slight accent, and her use of English was odd.
          Erik blinked, trying to think, but too distracted by the cold. Fear and uncertainty crashed headlong in his brain as he tried to decide the course most efficient and least likely to anger Cinnamon.
          Erik whirled, cowering. Cinnamon stood at the top of the stairs, bundled in a housecoat. His face was a mixture of fury and surprise. Terrified, Erik stammered "I..I.."
          Cinnamon silenced him with a gesture "Excuse my servant, my dear. He's a bit addled at times. How may I help you?"
          The vixen's face showed relief. "I would like to use your telephone please. I have had an accident, and would like to call for a repair vehicle."
          Cinnamon studied the vixen for a moment, then smiled. "Certainly! It's in the kitchen, down that way.". When she turned down the corridor, Cinnamon grabbed Erik and pulled him close, hissing "Go to the basement stairs. Open the phone box and disconnect the main trunk line."
          "Sir?". Cinnamon slapped him.
          "Do you want to be a very small problem, Erik?". Erik scuttled away hurriedly, claws clittering on the tiles.
          When Cinnamon entered the kitchen, the vixen was standing in front of the phone, looking perplexed as she repeatedly clicked the toggle.
          "Is something wrong madame?"
          "I am thinking it is broken." she replied.
          Cinnamon stepped over and flipped the switch several times. He feigned surprise when the video screen stayed dark, and there was no tone from the speaker. "It appears you're right."
          The vixen looked crestfallen "But I have to be in Los Angeles by tomorrow night! I have a concert to perform!"
          The wolf arched an eyebrow "Concert? You are with an orchestra?"
          The vixen shook her head "A rock band, "Vixen and the Nachtskinder". She looked terribly upset "I am the lead singer and keyboardist. I must be there!"
          Cinnamon gave her his most charming smile. "Why don't you stay here for the night? The phones should be fixed by morning. You can call the garage or rental agency then and still be in L.A. in plenty of time for your concert!"
          "Oh no! I could not think of imposing on you in such a fashion, sir!" she protested "I can walk to the nearest hotel and stay there until morning."
          The big wolf chuckled. "My dear, you are fortunate you found this place! There isn't another place for five miles in any direction!" he lied.
          The vixen smiled prettily "Then I believe I am your guest, sir." she held out her hand "Anastasia Stasser, of Stuttgart, Germany."
          Cinnamon took her hand, and kissed the back of it. "Cinnamon DeWolf, of this place. Welcome to my humble home."

          It took about half an hour to get her settled in the guest bedroom, down the hall from Cinnamon's. The one with ring-bolts inset at the head and foot of the bed, and the hidden door with the access to Cinnamon's "playroom" in the basement.
          Having bid her goodnight, Cinnamon led Erik downstairs, and into the basement. The fox followed his master, shaking in terror, unsure whether he was going to be punished, or not.
          Safely sealed behind the soundproof door of his "playroom", Cinnamon began to laugh coldly. "Isn't she a fine little present to have pop up on our doorstep, Erik? A tasty little midnight snack!" he whirled away from the fox, batting a restraint dangling from the ceiling, and strode over to a worktable cluttered with bottles and other assorted containers. "What's appropriate to our little German morsel?". He rifled through the containers, selecting and discarding, until he came up with a bottle of pleasantly amber liquid. "Perfect!". He held the bottle before the fox's nose "Do you know what this will do, Erik?"
          The fox drew back, staring wide eyed at the wolf looming over him "No, Sir." he quavered.
          Cinnamon grinned "It renders the victim completely helpless. You can see and hear and feel and talk, but not move!" His eyes glittered "Imagine, laying there, unbound, yet unable to escape, as someone does whatever they want to you!". He shoved the bottle against the fox's chest. "Now, you are going to take this up to her room, with a glass, and give it to her. Tell her it is a gift from me, a liqueur to warm her and help her sleep better. Pour a glass for her. Then come straight back here. Do you understand?"
          Erik nodded quickly, and turned to go. He almost gagged when a huge paw wrapped around his throat.
          "Erik," Cinnamon's muzzle was inches from his own, "If you drop that bottle, I will break you into as many pieces, and then I will eat you. Slowly.". The fox gave a sob of terror, and scurried away.
          Long minutes passed. Ten. Fifteen. Cinnamon grew impatient. Cursing the fox, he made his way up the secret stairs to the guest bedroom, and peeked through the peep-hole. Erik was nowhere to be seen. Cinnamon snarled to himself. Then he stopped. A slow smile spread across his muzzle. On the table was the bottle, and a glass. The glass contained a tiny amount of the liquor. And the vixen's motionless form was on the bed, covered by the blankets. Erik was probably waiting in the basement. He undid the catch to the secret door, and stepped into the room. Chortling his amusement, he sauntered across the room and flipped the covers off the still form.
          Erik stared up at him with glassy eyes.
          There was a soft click behind Cinnamon, and he whipped around. Anastasia turned from closing the secret door. There was nothing of kindness in her smile. And her eyes were as cold as the blackest Hell.
          "What the..? How..?" Cinnamon stammered.
          She laughed softly, the sound of icicles breaking on concrete. "He really did try. Either he truly loves you, in some sick way, or you've broken him quite completely. The latter I assume, from the likes of you."
          Cinnamon snarled and swung a roundhouse slap at her. She deflected it with frightening ease. Then she slapped him. It was a short, sharp blow. Open handed, backhand. It nearly broke his neck. He slammed against the wall and slumped to the floor, staring at her in shock. "W-what are you?!"
          She laughed again, that horrible, mad, cold sound. "I am Anastasia Leonova Stasser, The Duchess of Pain. I am three hundred and fifty years old, and I have seen more than you could ever dream of in your pitiful mortal existence."
          She grinned at him, displaying long, slender fangs. "Fool. I am Nachtskinder. Nosferatu. Wampyre."
          It was like an icy fist had grabbed Cinnamon's heart. He watched, frozen, as she glided over to the table and picked up the bottle of poison. As she turned towards him, something inside him clicked. She was going to kill them!! With panic driven speed, Cinnamon burst for the door, yanking at the handle. Even as the cold needle of realization that the door was locked sank into his stomach, he felt her hand on his shoulder. She flung him across the room like a toy, to land on the bed. For a moment, his eyes locked with Erik's, and he could see his own terror mirrored there. Then her fingers locked in his mane, and his head was yanked back until pain flared behind his eyes. Something was jammed into his mouth, and then, without warning, he was being drowned in warm liquid. He swallowed convulsively, before he realized that she was pouring the poison down his throat. He tried to gag, to vomit up what he had swallowed. But it was far too late. Already his limbs were numb. She dropped his head onto Erik's chest with a thump.
          "There now." she purred "Both of you will be wonderful hosts, I'm sure! You shall keep me marvelously entertained!". She rolled Cinnamon onto his back, off of Erik, and picked up the male fox with one arm. She pulled the belt out of Cinnamon's housecoat, and proceeded to tie Erik to the frame of the bed's canopy, forcing him into a kneeling position with his hands over his head. When she found the ring-bolts placed for just that reason, she cooed in delight.
          "You Americans think of everything, don't you!?".
          When Erik was trussed to her satisfaction, she slid off the bed and slipped out of her clothes. Then she climbed back on behind Erik, and wrapped her arms around his waist. She began to rub against his back with her body. She lapped at his ear, and murmured "You want to be a good host, don't you little foxy?".
          Erik's voice was thready "P-p-please, m-m-mistress..."
          "Good!" she giggled, cutting him off. "Lets see what the house has to offer then.". She reached down and cupped his balls and sheath, and began to gently squeeze and stroke them. Erik moaned softly, endless exposure to pleasure mixed with pain and fear betraying him. Within a very short time, his slick pink cock was jutting proudly from his sheath.
          Anastasia murred delightedly, and ran her tongue over her fangs. "Such fine facilities this house offers! But I wouldn't want to be a bad guest, and monopolize them either!". She reached over the side of the bed and fished about in her clothes, finally withdrawing a ten-inch long, bone handled switchblade. The blade snapped open with a metallic *CLIK*. Anastasia reached up and cut Erik's wrists free, then moved him so he was kneeling between Cinnamon's legs. Slowly, patiently, she began guiding Erik's cock downward.
          In shocked horror, Cinnamon suddenly realized her intent. "Oh hell !" he moaned "Don't! Please don't fuck me dry!".
          Anastasia ignored him, intent on her purpose. Finally satisfied with her positioning, she slid her hands down to grasp Cinnamon's hips, and shoved.
          Cinnamon howled. Erik moaned. With unnatural strength, Anastasia rammed the fox's un-lubricated cock up the wolf's ass. Roughly she jerked the fox back and forth as Cinnamon wailed.
          Eventually, the wolf's cries sank to quiet, agonized whimpers as the fox's moans grew more insistent. Anastasia stopped her thrusting, and pulled the fox free of Cinnamon's ass. She pulled Erik back until his head rested on her shoulder. She began once again to pump his cock with her fist, murmuring to him encouragingly. Erik's little moans became quick little grunts, until finally, he came, spurting his come all over Cinnamon's belly and groin. And in the moment he came, Anastasia reared back and sank her fangs into his neck. Crimson spurted, splattering Cinnamon and mixing with the come on his body. Cinnamon could only watch in horrified fascination as a trickle of scarlet stained Erik's white chest fur. The fox sighed softly as the vixen lapped at his neck.
          After a time, Anastasia released her hold on Erik, withdrawing her fangs with a slight, wet, sucking sound. Gently, effortlessly, she picked him up, wrapped him in a blanket, and laid him out on the couch. Then she returned to Cinnamon. She smiled down at him, her delicate muzzle stained carmine. She settled down between his legs where Erik had been, and slowly lowered her muzzle to a point just above his sheath. She extended her tongue, and played with his sheath-ring for a moment, then opened her mouth wide. Cinnamon whimpered, and closed his eyes. He felt her tongue touch-down on his belly. She began licking him. It dawned on him what she was doing. She was lapping up the mixture of blood and come smeared across his body. He gagged at the thought.
          "Don't be so disgusted, dear wolf!" she laughed "It's actually quite tasty! And nourishing too!" Cinnamon looked into her eyes, blue and utterly mad. She held a finger before his nose, the tip dripping with thick pink liquid. "Try it! You might find you like it!".
          Cinnamon felt bile rise in his throat. He closed his eyes again, and tried to shut himself away. She chortled.
          "Don't worry, I understand.", he heard her licking her fingers "It's somewhat of an...acquired taste.".
          "Do you know," she hissed in his ear, causing him to gasp in startlement." What the biggest problem with this little habit of mine is?". She smiled down at him and arched an eyebrow.
          Cinnamon blinked at her. She gazed back, her expression one of patient waiting. After a few moments, he whispered "No."
          Anastasia leaned forward and lightly ran the tip of the switchblade along the ridge just below his eye socket "It is," she murmured, as he sucked in a terrified breath "That there is never, ever, enough blood to go with all the come.". Her hand flicked down, and the blade opened his chest from just below his collar bone, to just before the bottom of his sternum, a shallow, painful wound.
          Cinnamon had howled in fear before. This time he screamed. He felt the blade, like it was red hot, bumping down along his ribs. He began to babble at her, threatening, promising, pleading, begging. She ignored him, and continued with her lapping, feasting as his blood leaked into the bed. And slowly, like Erik's, his body betrayed him too. The pain dulled to a numb throbbing, accentuating the soft stroking of her tongue. Slowly, unbelievably, Cinnamon began to get hard.
          In her questing over his body, Anastasia finally bumped into the swelling shaft with a startled "Oh!". She look from him, to his cock, and back again. She smiled at him, obviously pleased. "What wonderful fortitude!". Lightly, she ran her claws up the underside of his shaft. Cinnamon failed to stifle a moan of pleasure.
          The vampire lowered her muzzle to his cock and started licking, her tongue slithering over his member, slicking him down with her saliva. When he was good and slippery, she swung a leg over his body and sank herself onto him. She took him all, in a single stroke, to the hilt. Without a pause, she started fucking him.
          Cinnamon half groaned, half snarled, in pleasure and frustration and pain. He wanted to grab her, throw her down and fuck her. Pound her until she begged for mercy, begged his forgiveness. He wanted to punish her for what she was doing. And he couldn't move a finger.
          Anastasia was humping frantically now, her head whipping side to side, long white hair a mad halo. Her pumping became erratic for a moment, then she shuddered. She voiced a wild cry of pleasure as her body spasmed around Cinnamon's cock. Then she went perfectly still. Cinnamon choked out a curse. He hadn't come yet. Slowly, trembling, she pulled off of him, and slid back until she was laying between his legs. She began licking him again, one hand holding just behind the head of his cock, squeezing gently. Her tongue caressed him, wrapping around the base, pressing firmly as she stroked up the underside of his shaft, and then flickering over the tip. Cinnamon's cock throbbed painfully as she held him on the edge of orgasm. She sidled herself up a little, arched her neck, and took Cinnamon's whole shaft into her muzzle.
          Cinnamon exploded, with a howl that rattled the windows. Great, stabbing jolts of pleasure slammed through his body, surging from the base of his spine into his brain. Making his vision swim as he pumped come into Anastasia's mouth.

          She bit him, sinking her teeth into the base of his cock.

          Cinnamon's world became a grey-red sea of ecstasy and agony. Stars spun before his eyes. He was being frozen to death and burned alive. Sailing through the air, and smothering to death. Somewhere in the distance, he could hear someone laughing. And he realized it was him.
          The world went away.
          And, slowly, the world came back. Pain throbbed in every part of his body, to the beat of his heart. He held his head, hoping to ease the ache. And realized he could move again. Hopeful and afraid, he opened his eyes. The vixen was pulling on her coat. She caught his eye, and smiled.
          "Ah! Herr DeWolf! I had not thought you would wake before I left." she walked over and caught his chin in her hand. He whimpered, but she only tilted his head up and kissed him, forcing her tongue into his muzzle.
          She released him, dropping him to the bed. She paused in the doorway. "Goodbye, Cinnamon Dewolf. Perhaps we shall meet again, someday. You are a wonderfully accommodating host, with such impeccable taste. I shall have to visit you again sometime! Thank-you so, for inviting me in. I believe I may have, perhaps, acquired a taste...for you."
          The door closed with a click.
          Cinnamon shivered.





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