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                                 Fantasy/nosfera1
                                          Nosferatu Unchained
                                Part One:  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 in  her sleep.   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 magnificient  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  she 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 accomodate  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 aquaduct 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 cermonial 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.

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   "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,  thses  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 for ever..."
                     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 deathmask.
                     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 
                garrotte 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 garrotte.   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  garrotte 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 OF PART ONE ***to More Fantasy Sex Stories and Sexual Fantasies
                                                  
            
                                                  
              
         
                                                  
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