Beyonce

 

Beyonce


The two arrive. Dracula greets the pair with his usual suave demeanor, trying to restrain his unhinged desire at the Goddess before him. Her skin, her figure, her air, proud and alluring, attractive and yet posing the challenge for him to dominate. What a thrill, what an accomplishment it will be for when Beyoncé herself submits.

He takes Beyoncé into the hall, to perform, he has the orchestra set out, the sheet music, she sings, and seems possessed. Jay-Z watches, never has his own wife seemed more desirable, but there's something otherworldly going on. While Dracula stares, a smile curling on his lips.

They now sit down for dinner, Beyoncé hangs on every word. Jay can't believe it, Beyoncé, who exemplifies the untouchable, the divine, the proud, almost acting like a flustered schoolgirl around this stranger.

As Beyonce and Jay-Z are shown to their rooms, the mood becomes terse. He is sour with his wife, in turn leading Beyonce to hit back, after his history, *he's* lobbing accusations at *her*? Jay-Z storms out.

Exhausted Beyoncé lies in her room. As the night continues, a mist pours in, surrounding a half asleep Beyoncé, her blouse open, her legs already spread, reacting to the mists with a welcoming murmur.

Dracula manifests on top of the bed. Beyoncé, mesmerized, under his spell reaches for her host. Dracula undoes the clothing ready to indulge into the rarest, most impossible of conquests.



Their movements become frantic, as she cries out in unholy pleasure, as he savors, the de facto queen of the world's blood.
Jay-Z returns to the room, ready to...apologize? Demand an apology? Then he hears. Her moans, he cries. The sight of his wife, the mother of his children like this is too much. He shouts at her, calls her cruel names, names she enthusiastically owns.

She weakly moans and sighs and then, even the mighty Beyoncé has no more to give. He takes her lifeless form to her new coffin, one worthy of his conquest.

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