Nosferatu
of
Night Owl
genre
bondage
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WARNING! This is adult oriented fiction of a strong sexual nature. If you are under 18 years of age or easily offended by such material, then click your browser's BACK button now. The copyright of this story remains with the author, Night Owl. This posting does not give you the rights to post this on any website without obtaining the author's permission first.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
(Story Content: M/f, Horror, Bondage, NC)
Humboldt, Bavaria 1784
The moon burns bright in the black, restless sky. Outside the room, a cool autumn wind whips through the brittle leaves that blanket the ground. On an antique four-poster bed lies a young woman, naked and tightly bound, her limbs stretched apart and fastened to each post with black silk. The moonlight spills through an open window near the bed and bathes her naked flesh in its glow. Her long red hair is tossed over her shoulders onto the pillows around her. She is in a deep but restless sleep, drugged by one of His servants and left alone in the darkness to seal her dark and inevitable fate.
Suddenly, the heavy curtains shudder slightly, then become still again. A cool mist creeps into the room through the open window and crawls like a heavy fog along the floor. The sleeping girl becomes restless, her wrists twisting against the silk bindings that imprison her. Tendrils of the gray mist wrap around the bed posts like long fingers. The girl is still lost in sleep, but she moans softly as it creeps over her splayed, helpless body and smothers her with gentle caresses.
Then the mist pulls away, as quickly as it had entered, and gathers in a dark corner of the room. The floor creaks. The dark figure of a man materializes. He stands motionless, while taking in his surroundings. He is a remote, majestic figure, shrouded in a long black cloak hanging loosely off his broad shoulders. Moving toward the dresser, he passes one hand over an unlit candle and it sparks to life. The candlelight seems to flow through his body and there is no reflection in the dresser mirror.
The dark figure glides silently across the bare wooden floor and stops at the foot of the bed. The young girl cries again. She is aware of his presence, even in the depths of her slumber. He studies her form -- the soft swells of her young breasts, the blush in her cheeks, the hair splayed out on the pillow. She is warm, and so full of life. The servant had chosen well. His unblinking eyes draw downward to the neatly trimmed mound between her open thighs. Two desires began to burn within him, one ancient, and the other ageless.
He raises his arms and allows the cloak to fall behind his shoulders. He is completely nude, his body is lean but not sparse, his muscles are both powerful and sensual. Taking a deep breath, he slowly rises from the floor. The young girl's breathing becomes irregular, gasping as if she were trying to wake herself up.
The black cloak flutters wildly behind him as he glides over the bed, their bodies almost touching. His long shaft is fully erect. The girl squirms, turns her head from side to side, and struggles weakly with her bindings. He gazes into her eyes, and presently she grows calm, her fears chased away and replaced with deadened sleep, and something else -- a longing that has been buried deep within the darkest recesses of her soul.
He slides his hand across her breasts, she shivers from his ice-cold touch, her nipples become taut and erect. He lowers himself upon her, relishing the warmth of her young body. The wind outside howls like someone screaming in pain, the curtains in the window snap violently, but the girl is lost in her own dreams. In her mind's eye, she is in the arms of a magnificent warrior in glittering armor and burgundy robes -- the man he once was before his Becoming. Her full lips part in a smile.
He reaches up to touch her soft neck in a gentle caress, she beckons him with a hot sigh. He bares his fangs and nibbles the soft flesh at the base of her breasts, kisses the soft contours of her ribs, the flat plane of her belly, then leans back and gazes down at her young sex. In less than a moment, he quickly moves and bites down hard into the smooth muscle of her inner thigh. The young girl cries out and writhes helplessly on the bed. Blood trickles, his eyes glow as he indulges in her taste, then he releases her. His tongue travels up her neck and to her mouth. She looks deeply into his eyes for the first time, seeing nothing but the fire within them. His fangs extended, their tongues dance and she tastes her own salty blood on him. Tracing the curves of her body with his hands, he kisses her, then with one quick thrust, forces himself inside her. The girl cries out passionately, pulling desperately at the silk straps, not in an effort to escape the intrusion, but only with the desire to embrace her lover. He works his massive organ deep within her, jerking her body back and forth. She rubs her thighs against his and pushes her breasts up to him invitingly. Leaning closely, he puts his lips against her soft, pulsing neck. His cold breath excites her and she rolls her head to accommodate him. The girl's thoughts cry out to him,
"Take me, my Lord!"
He stares directly into her eyes, full of terror and desire, his fingers wrapped around her throat as he answers,
"You are already mine."
Then he hisses and sinks his long fangs into the soft, inviting flesh. A low moan escapes her lips. He drinks hungrily, feeling the girl struggle silently beneath him, her eyes begging for release as he slowly drains the life out of her body. A thin line of blood trickles down her neck and falls in tiny droplets onto the satin sheet. For a few moments the girl fights, both against and for his powerful grasp, then relaxes. Her heart beats once . . . twice and then remains still.
He lifts his head from her swollen neck and continues to pump his cock deeper and deeper into her limp, lifeless body, violating her even after death. He presses his chest against her still-erect nipples and feels the warmth in her slipping away. Then one final trust until the earthly need within him is satisfied.
The Master slowly rises and unties the silk bindings from the young girl's wrists and ankles, looking down with pity at the body sprawled on the bed like an unwanted ragdoll. Her pale eyes look up at him as if begging to take her with him. He stands back, and holds the dead girl's gaze for another long moment, then disappears into the mist as it slides out of the room.
End
WARNING! This is adult oriented fiction of a strong sexual nature. If you are under 18 years of age or easily offended by such material, then click your browser's BACK button now. The copyright of this story remains with the author, Night Owl. This posting does not give you the rights to post this on any website without obtaining the author's permission first.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
(Story Content: M/f, Horror, Bondage, NC)
Humboldt, Bavaria 1784
The moon burns bright in the black, restless sky. Outside the room, a cool autumn wind whips through the brittle leaves that blanket the ground. On an antique four-poster bed lies a young woman, naked and tightly bound, her limbs stretched apart and fastened to each post with black silk. The moonlight spills through an open window near the bed and bathes her naked flesh in its glow. Her long red hair is tossed over her shoulders onto the pillows around her. She is in a deep but restless sleep, drugged by one of His servants and left alone in the darkness to seal her dark and inevitable fate.
Suddenly, the heavy curtains shudder slightly, then become still again. A cool mist creeps into the room through the open window and crawls like a heavy fog along the floor. The sleeping girl becomes restless, her wrists twisting against the silk bindings that imprison her. Tendrils of the gray mist wrap around the bed posts like long fingers. The girl is still lost in sleep, but she moans softly as it creeps over her splayed, helpless body and smothers her with gentle caresses.
Then the mist pulls away, as quickly as it had entered, and gathers in a dark corner of the room. The floor creaks. The dark figure of a man materializes. He stands motionless, while taking in his surroundings. He is a remote, majestic figure, shrouded in a long black cloak hanging loosely off his broad shoulders. Moving toward the dresser, he passes one hand over an unlit candle and it sparks to life. The candlelight seems to flow through his body and there is no reflection in the dresser mirror.
The dark figure glides silently across the bare wooden floor and stops at the foot of the bed. The young girl cries again. She is aware of his presence, even in the depths of her slumber. He studies her form -- the soft swells of her young breasts, the blush in her cheeks, the hair splayed out on the pillow. She is warm, and so full of life. The servant had chosen well. His unblinking eyes draw downward to the neatly trimmed mound between her open thighs. Two desires began to burn within him, one ancient, and the other ageless.
He raises his arms and allows the cloak to fall behind his shoulders. He is completely nude, his body is lean but not sparse, his muscles are both powerful and sensual. Taking a deep breath, he slowly rises from the floor. The young girl's breathing becomes irregular, gasping as if she were trying to wake herself up.
The black cloak flutters wildly behind him as he glides over the bed, their bodies almost touching. His long shaft is fully erect. The girl squirms, turns her head from side to side, and struggles weakly with her bindings. He gazes into her eyes, and presently she grows calm, her fears chased away and replaced with deadened sleep, and something else -- a longing that has been buried deep within the darkest recesses of her soul.
He slides his hand across her breasts, she shivers from his ice-cold touch, her nipples become taut and erect. He lowers himself upon her, relishing the warmth of her young body. The wind outside howls like someone screaming in pain, the curtains in the window snap violently, but the girl is lost in her own dreams. In her mind's eye, she is in the arms of a magnificent warrior in glittering armor and burgundy robes -- the man he once was before his Becoming. Her full lips part in a smile.
He reaches up to touch her soft neck in a gentle caress, she beckons him with a hot sigh. He bares his fangs and nibbles the soft flesh at the base of her breasts, kisses the soft contours of her ribs, the flat plane of her belly, then leans back and gazes down at her young sex. In less than a moment, he quickly moves and bites down hard into the smooth muscle of her inner thigh. The young girl cries out and writhes helplessly on the bed. Blood trickles, his eyes glow as he indulges in her taste, then he releases her. His tongue travels up her neck and to her mouth. She looks deeply into his eyes for the first time, seeing nothing but the fire within them. His fangs extended, their tongues dance and she tastes her own salty blood on him. Tracing the curves of her body with his hands, he kisses her, then with one quick thrust, forces himself inside her. The girl cries out passionately, pulling desperately at the silk straps, not in an effort to escape the intrusion, but only with the desire to embrace her lover. He works his massive organ deep within her, jerking her body back and forth. She rubs her thighs against his and pushes her breasts up to him invitingly. Leaning closely, he puts his lips against her soft, pulsing neck. His cold breath excites her and she rolls her head to accommodate him. The girl's thoughts cry out to him,
"Take me, my Lord!"
He stares directly into her eyes, full of terror and desire, his fingers wrapped around her throat as he answers,
"You are already mine."
Then he hisses and sinks his long fangs into the soft, inviting flesh. A low moan escapes her lips. He drinks hungrily, feeling the girl struggle silently beneath him, her eyes begging for release as he slowly drains the life out of her body. A thin line of blood trickles down her neck and falls in tiny droplets onto the satin sheet. For a few moments the girl fights, both against and for his powerful grasp, then relaxes. Her heart beats once . . . twice and then remains still.
He lifts his head from her swollen neck and continues to pump his cock deeper and deeper into her limp, lifeless body, violating her even after death. He presses his chest against her still-erect nipples and feels the warmth in her slipping away. Then one final trust until the earthly need within him is satisfied.
The Master slowly rises and unties the silk bindings from the young girl's wrists and ankles, looking down with pity at the body sprawled on the bed like an unwanted ragdoll. Her pale eyes look up at him as if begging to take her with him. He stands back, and holds the dead girl's gaze for another long moment, then disappears into the mist as it slides out of the room.
End
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