The Caged Dove

What are you but a bird in a cage? As days go by it's like your eyes are looking through a kaleidoscope, the colors are vibrant, but the shapes are abstract. Only it isn't a kaleidoscope, it's the stained glass window behind you casting such color it gives you some sort of hope that maybe one day you will see some sort of relief. You don't hate Dracula for keeping you, he feeds you, and allows you to bathe unlike the others he keeps in cages, you have no further worries from the outside, he's been kind to you. But why does he keep you in a cage? Like a Dove, as he would call you as he visits you at night, he watches you sleep, and at times you have a true genuine conversation. You would stay if he asked you to, you would be willing to let him feed on you if he asked you, but he keeps you in a cage.

You're sitting there, resting your head against the bars, your eyes closed your breathing is soft, arms are wrapped around your bare knees. You hear footsteps approach and you look up, giving him a small smile you tilt your head.

"Good evening, Count." You whisper softly.

"Good evening, My Dove, how are you feeling?" He asks with a kind smile.

"Like I could use the company." You state honestly.

"Well, I can keep you company." He suggests.

Nodding your head softly. "Yes, please."

He walks to the bars and puts his hands in his pockets and looks at you, tilting his head he smiles. You look over his face and let out a small breath and crawl over and place your delicate dainty hands on the bars, your fingers wrapping around the cold steel bars. You look up at him, your heart picks up beating, the moon hits the stained glass window, illuminating his face, and you feel this urge, an urge to touch, to feel him, to let him touch you. You've hit the point of being touch-starved, you're craving some sort of affection.

You reach your hand out to touch his leg, and you keep your gaze on his face, he looks down at your hand and he knows your heart has picked up pace, watching you as you work your hand up his pant leg you bite your lip and let out a soft breath.

"Did you read the book I gave you last week?" He asks.

"I did, though I wish I had more light, I would read it all day, and all night." You say softly as you move your hand further up his leg, his jaw tightens a moment before he steps closer to you inviting for more, your hand is within inches of his phallus. You could feel the tension in the pants, you begin to wonder if he's touch-starved too, you look over his face making a big move and placing your hand on his phallus over his dress pants. He lets out a soft breath. Looking over his face his eyes glued to you, hearing your heartbeat he rotates his head and licks his lips.

"What do you need My Dove?" He asks you.

With honest eyes, you let out a soft breath. "I need to be touched. I need affection, I need to feel... wanted." You whisper. "You. I. Need. You." you state with a jagged breath, feeling yourself get wet as you rub your hand along his member, feeling your core muscles performing Kegels, it was more wanting than you realized.

You had grown fond of Dracula over the months of being here, could it be Stolkholm Syndrome? Possibly, but you two had built this very unique connection, he has never given you a reason to hate him. He looks at you and bites his lip. Your other hand moves between your legs, under your white dress as you begin to play with your sensitive bud. Your breathing shutters as your other hand grips him through his pants, moving your hand along his length. Your eyes close as you rest your head against the bars. Between your soft moans, your heart beating, and your hand on his cock, his feelings were going into overdrive. He let out a soft groan, and his hands moved to grip the bar.