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From: Mad Dog Literata <literata@cyberramp.net>
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
Subject: STORY:  Nosferatu Unchained (MF, FF, NC, Violence, Extreme)
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Date: 17 Mar 1997 18:14:49 GMT
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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 bulging 
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 suddenly arched back, a surprised expression in her 
eyes, and slumped into the bed, her face still holding that 
ecstatic, surprised 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 
cupules, 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 Humboldt," 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, 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 feral 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.

----------

To be continued



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