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Nosferatu Unchained
by Michael D Garrison (garrison@utdallas.edu)

***

In her mind's eye, she saw him as a magnificent warrior 
in glittering armor and burgundy robes. She cried out 
her need to him: Oh, to bask in your gaze, to die in 
your arms... (MF, FF, gothic, nc, rape, sm)

***

Humboldt, Bavaria 1653

A cool mist had crept into the room, wafting through the 
open window and flowing like a heavy gas along the 
floor. Tendrils of gray fog wrapped around the four-
poster bed and for a moment, the sleeping girl became 
restless, tossing and turning. She moaned once, then 
turned on her back.

She was as Kyra had described: Young, blonde and 
voluptuous. Her heavy, ample breasts spilled out of her 
blue silk nightgown, and her full red lips were parted 
in a smile. She was warm and so, so full of life...

The mist pulled out of the room now, as quickly as it 
had entered. The heavy drapes shuddered slightly; the 
window creaked once as if moved by a breeze, then became 
still again. And in the far, dark corner of the girl's 
room a man came to be.

He stood motionless as if in a trance while he took in 
his surroundings. He was a remote, majestic figure. Like 
a fine-spun dancer, his body was slender but not sparse. 
Powerful muscles rippled in his back, arms and thighs. 
The man was sensual, animal and completely nude.

He glided noiselessly across the bare wooden floor and 
came to rest at the foot of the bed. He studied her form 
- the soft curves of her reposing body, the lines of her 
face, the hair splayed out on the pillow. His hard eyes 
traced the firm, supple thighs, the taut nipples 
strained against the thin fabric, the smooth hands. Two 
desires began to burn within him, one ancient, the other 
ageless.

He turned to the window and gazed out on the serene, 
moonlit lake. It brought back half-forgotten memories of 
his youth, so long ago, of Lake Hermanstadt, and the 
Scholomance. The ritual of the Becoming - how long ago 
had it been? he wondered. He could not remember, could 
not even say with certainty that it had happened at all. 
So many memories, so many nights like this.

The girl moaned, and he whipped around quickly and 
silently to face her. Her breathing had become irregular 
- panting as if trying to wake herself up - and he moved 
to her side to lay his hand on her chest. The heat of 
her breasts aroused him. He caressed them like a lover, 
and presently the girl grew calm, her dreams chased away 
and replaced with deaden sleep. And something else: A 
longing. She was aware of his presence, in the depths of 
her slumber.

He slipped into her consciousness easily enough, his 
hands pulling the flimsy gown from her body. She inhaled 
sharply, her breasts rising, then sighed. As he watched, 
her hands went to her swollen nipples and caressed them.

In her mind's eye, she saw him as a magnificent warrior 
in glittering armor and burgundy robes. She cried out 
her need to him: Oh, to bask in your gaze, to die in 
your arms...

The girl's eyes opened and she opened her mouth as if to 
speak. There was no need of it; he heard her call out 
just as clearly as if she had sung. She placed one hand 
on her breast and held out the other to him. He looked 
down at his erect, throbbing member, then down at the 
girl. It was time.

He knelt beside her and put his lips against her soft, 
pulsing neck. His cold breath excited her, and he rubbed 
her thighs together. Then he bared his teeth, those 
terrible fangs, and sunk them into the soft, inviting 
flesh. She made a low moan and rolled her head to 
accommodate him. A thin line of blood trickled down her 
neck and fell in tiny droplets onto the satin sheet.

He drank hungrily as the liquid flowed into him. But 
there was something wrong...

DAMN! He tore away savagely and spat. "It cannot be," he 
said aloud. So few were found these days - and yet here 
was such a one.

Her body tossed again, and in her mind she begged him to 
complete the task. He stood, nude in the darkness, and 
shook his head. Such a loss, he thought; would he find 
another so desirous of the fate he'd held out to her?

Still, he pondered, though she could not fulfill his 
prime need, he still had another, equally strong.

He moved down on top of her and smoothly entered her. 
She gasped, her eyes opened wide, and she wrapped her 
legs around his. Her mouth formed into an O, but as her 
eyes met his, she made no sound.

Her thoughts, however, cried out to him. Take me, my 
Lord!

His silky fingers wrapped around her throat as he 
answered, You are already mine.

He squeezed and felt the girl beneath him flail 
silently, her eyes begging for release. He thrust his 
massive shaft once, and she arched her back for him. Her 
hands went to his wrists, and pushed, not for less 
pressure but for more.

She bucked her body again, but he would not respond. 
Instead, he moved closer to her face and stared directly 
into those eyes, full of terror and desire.

His hands pressed even harder. For two full minutes, the 
girl fought both against and for his powerful grasp. 
Then suddenly she jerked still. He felt a liquid warmth 
drip from between her legs, and the girl slumped into 
the bed, her face still holding that ecstatic 
expression. Her heart beat twice, then stilled forever, 
as her final thoughts rang in his head.

He pumped again into her lifeless body and stared deep 
into eyes that saw nothing. Her firm legs relaxed and 
slid off his back, and as he pressed his chest against 
her still-erect nipples, he felt the warmth slipping 
away. Then another thrust, and another...

His own release was near; he thrust into her as he came. 
The girl's head lolled back, her throat bared to him. 
Her arm slid off the bed and hung limply above the 
floor, the fingers curled.

He dismounted and looked down in pity at the body 
sprawled out on the bed, now as cold as his own. Her 
eyes looked up at him as if to beg him to take her with 
him.

He stood back, and held the dead girl's gaze as the mist 
once again slid into the dark room.

 * * *

Kyra, his student, loved the sport.

Their abode sat high on top of a desolate mountain, near 
a stone-strewn pass. He made his way through the fallen 
ramparts, down a hidden stone stairway leading to the 
aqueduct and into the main chamber.

Kyra looked up at him from the stone. "My lover 
returns," she purred.

He looked at her. She wore ornate filigreed gold breast 
cups, each ending in a three inch long, needle-sharp 
point. Gold serpents circled her upper arms, and a heavy 
gold belt went around her lithe waist. A ceremonial 
dagger was strapped to her left leg.

"Just in time," she told him. "Listen!"

There was a faint scream, coming from the abbatoir 
below.

"She's mine," Kyra said.

Together they went to the lower level, Kyra pirouetting 
in anticipation. "I found her in Hamboldt," she told 
him. "She's an artist at the University. She saw me and 
fell in love. Romantic, wouldn't you say?"

Kyra swung open the heavy iron gate. He saw her 
immediately, a young girl chained to the far wall, her 
limbs outstretched. She emitted a yell, but when she saw 
them, quieted instantly.

Kyra danced over to her. "Tell my lover your name," she 
said.

The girl looked up at her. "Marissa."

Kyra went up to the girl and slowly untied her lace 
bodice. She pulled it off, then whipped around once with 
the dagger in her hand. Marissa gasped when saw the 
sharp blade. Kyra giggled, and in one fluid motion, cut 
away the rest of the girl's clothing. It fell to the 
floor in tatters.

Kyra moved closely to her; the points of her breast cups 
pressed into Marissa's hot flesh.

"Tell me what you desire, dear Marissa."

The girl looked into her eyes. "I need...you," she 
breathed.

Kyra covered the girl's mouth with her own. As they 
kissed, Kyra's tongue slid and probed like a snake, 
fighting with Marissa's as the other woman responded in 
kind. Kyra's hands encircled Marissa's waist, and she 
pulled herself closer.

The spikes plunged into Marissa's breasts, and she 
screamed, but Kyra still held the kiss. Marissa's 
fingers flailed as she tried to grab hold of the chains, 
her legs kicked uselessly, and her eyes bored into 
Kyra's.

Blood began to trickle from her chest and lips. Kyra 
held the kiss and squeezed harder into Marissa.

The dying woman made one last cry as her life flowed out 
of her. Kyra held her deadly embrace until the body made 
a final twitch and was still.

Kyra gently pried herself away. Her breast cups were 
smeared with blood. She dabbed her finger in it, brought 
it to her lips, and tasted.

She smiled and turned to him. "How was your hunt?"

He eyed the body on the wall hungrily. "She 
was...unclean."

Kyra motioned to the slumped body of Marissa. "Then I 
give you my prey."

He went to the dead girl and lapped the blood from her 
chin, then knelt and suckled her breasts. The fire had 
died within her, but his own was rekindled.

Kyra moved beside him. She deftly unchained the girl and 
lowered her to the ground. Looking up at him, she smiled 
knowingly. "Your other needs awaken."

He picked the body up lovingly and carried her cradled 
in his arms to his chamber. He placed her down gently on 
the cold bed and smoothed her long black hair. Her eyes 
stared upward and her blue lips formed a silent scream. 
The man kissed her neck, the dip of her throat, her 
breasts. His hands ran down her waist, her thighs, her 
soft round buttocks. Her elegance was even greater in 
death, and as he felt the soft, cool flesh he began to 
plot the quenching of his thirst.

He slid between her legs and entered her. He covered her 
mouth with his, tasting the blood, and drew her hands 
above her head. As a lover would, he thrust himself into 
her and thought, you will join us yet, Marissa.

His terrible strong body arched over her, and the 
thrusts became mightier. Without bidding, the words came 
out of him in a low rushing outpour:

"Be ye accursed, and eternally reproved; and be ye 
tormented with perpetual pain, so that ye may find no 
repose by night nor by day, nor for a single moment of 
time, if ye obey not immediately the command of Him Who 
maketh the Universe to tremble..."

Her lifeless eyes stared up at him, her mouth hanging 
slack.

"...by these Names, and in virtue of these Names, the 
which being named and invoked all creatures obey and 
tremble with fear and terror, these Names which can turn 
aside lightning and thunder; and which will utterly make 
you to perish, destroy, and banish you - "

With a fevered groan he suddenly jerked inside her, the 
piston-driving strength of his body possessing hers.

"These names then are Aleph, Beth, Gimel, Daleth, He, 
Vau, Zayin, Cheth, Teth, Yod, Kaph, Lamed, Mem, Nun, 
Samekh, Ayin, Pe, Tzaddi, Qoph, Resh, Shin, Tau."

Then the moment of ecstasy exploded all around him. He 
thrust once more, his shaft buried deep inside her in a 
dizzying, uncontrollable burst of rapture.

He was utterly consumed, and yet the words still came: 
"...that ye may burn therein eternally forever..."

It was time for the Third Pentacle of the Moon - and 
after that, the Becoming.

 * * *

Marissa's body lay in the Cradle of Ages, deep beneath 
the decaying castle. Her soft hands crossed her breasts; 
her form was covered by a gossamer silk gown. Dozens of 
candles flickered around her. Her eyes were open and her 
mouth was still drawn back in the death mask.

It was close to midnight and because of this, Kyra had 
chosen the Fifth Pentacle of Saturn. Her eyes were red 
and catlike in the darkness, and her hunger great, for 
since the beginning of the ceremony she had done no 
hunting. She read from the dusty book in a low, quick 
voice. Her garment was a crimson-cloaked gown.

The man listened approvingly. Though they had been 
together for hundreds of years, soon she would pass 
through to eternity and another would take her place. He 
looked at Kyra and felt no sorrow; it had been the same 
with Voranna, his previous consort and Kyra's 
first...victim. That was as it should be, and though he 
refused to think it, he knew that another would 
eventually take Marissa's place at his side. But that 
was far in the future.

Kyra finished reading the invocation and closed the 
book. She was panting, feeling the burning desire to 
once again taste blood, to steal life. He ignored her; 
Kyra would hunt no more.

He rose and went to Marissa's limp body. Closing her 
eyes, he kissed her lips and raised the chalice above 
his head. He then intoned the final words.

"Some are created from water.

"Others from Wind, unto which they are like.

"Some from Earth.

"Some from Clouds.

"Others from Solar Vapors.

"Others from the keenness and strength of Fire; and when 
they are invoked or summoned, they come always with 
great noise, and with the terrible nature of fire."

He overturned the chalice. As the water hit her, Marissa 
opened her eyes wide and shrieked. Her hands clawed in 
the air, and her legs kicked wildly. The restraints held 
her within the Cradle, but still it was so awful that 
Kyra - even Kyra, who had seen so much! - flinched.

He invoked the Great Ones now: Qadosch, Tzabaoth, 
Asophiel, Athanatos. Athanatos, Eater of Life, whose 
visage turned even Cardiel to stone. Tzabaoth, Hunter of 
Life, of whom even Gabriel was terrified. Qadosch, who 
dared taunt the Master of Evil himself - Qadosch, 
Destroyer of Worlds, who protected them in their Long 
Sleep.

Marissa's screams stopped. She looked up at him and when 
she smiled, he could see the fangs. Good, he thought. He 
would have another mate.

He ordered Kyra out, to prepare for the next part in the 
ancient ceremony. She moved painfully, aching for 
sustenance, and closed the huge wooden door to the 
chamber.

Twenty hours later he emerged and walked down the giant 
and empty halls to Kyra's bed. He found her as he had 
ordered: She wore her gold filigree and nothing else, 
kneeling on a small dais before an icon of Existon, the 
Harbinger of Death.

His robe fell to the cold stone floor and he reclined in 
her bed. He spoke to her. "Rise, Kyra, and join me."

She stood, noticed the door to her chamber still open. 
"Would my Lord have me close it?"

He waved his hand. "No. Come to me."

She smiled and climbed up onto him. She mounted him 
easily, moaning with pleasure as his erect cock slid 
deep inside her. She offered him her taut, swollen 
nipples. He rolled them between his fingers, then cupped 
her breasts in his hands and lifted them up.

Kyra drew her legs up and began to ride him like a 
stallion, her first hunger lost in the second, and after 
a brief thrashing period had begun to make a smooth, 
steady pumping motion with her hips and pelvis. Her 
sharp fingernails raked his smooth chest.

Kyra never noticed the footsteps.

She was caught in her own ecstasy. The man, however, 
glimpsed Marissa creeping into the room, and spoke to 
Kyra. "Look in my eyes," he commanded.

Kyra smiled again and looked down at him. Their eyes met 
and locked. She licked her lips with her tongue and 
purred. "Finish me, my Lord! Make me come!"

Marissa moved up behind her and with a swift movement 
brought the garrote up over Kyra's neck. Marissa quickly 
tightened the garrote and pulled. Kyra screamed when she 
realized what was happening and reached to the dagger 
strapped on her leg, but the man's powerful hand grabbed 
her arms and pinned them. With his other hand, he 
withdrew the dagger.

"Goodbye, Kyra," he said. Kyra looked at him with 
sadness and finality in her eyes, then bucked once more.

The dagger had been prepared for this in the ceremony. 
He plunged it between her breasts. It went in to the 
hilt. Kyra jerked as the blade entered her, and a 
crimson ribbon flowed from her lips. She bucked several 
times as the knife did its work, and her visage turned 
from sorrow to anger to hatred to something inhuman.

Marissa pulled harder on the garrote. Kyra's body arched 
backwards, and a final, soulful scream passed between 
her lips. She crumpled between her lord's legs; it was 
finished.

Marissa pulled her off of him and onto the floor, where 
she tumbled and sprawled. "Did I please you, my Lord?" 
she asked.

He rose from the bed and took the garrote from her 
hands. "Yes, child," he told her. "Now return to your 
chamber and wait for me."

When she had left, he carried Kyra's body up the long 
stairway and out to the hill behind the castle. He set 
her on the cold ground and pushed on the dagger. It 
would be dawn soon; when the sun's rays found her, she 
would be no more.

He returned below ground, barring each entrance behind 
him with heavy metal locks. He finally appeared in the 
main chamber where Marissa waited for him.

"What comes next?" she asked him.

"First, your instruction," he replied. "There are many 
things you will need to know for your new life. 
Afterwards, the Long Sleep, and when we awaken, we will 
feast."

She smiled at the prospect, her fangs strong and 
gleaming.

Two years later the instruction was finished, and they 
went back together to the Cradle of Ages.

END

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
This story was written as an adult fantasy. The author
does not condone the described behavior in real life.

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Kristen's collection - Directory 67