From: "Vanessa S. Lopez" <psyche@gramercy.ios.com>
Subject: The Becoming [nc,cons,mf,mild m-dom,vampire, chase, tackle,sex]
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories,alt.sex.bondage,alt.sex.bondage.stories
The following is self copyrighted original material. Feel free to redistribute as long as proper credit is given and nothing within is changed from its original version. In other words, please don't mess up my story. ******************* This story includes mild violence, nc, cons, chase, mf, mild m-dom, vampire, attitude, lack of quotation marks (intentional), death (sorta), and stuff like that there. Oh yeah, and sex.
The Becoming
Summer, 1983
Danielle screamed as her orgasm ripped through her, the vampire's fangs
impaling her throat even as he impaled her sex with his own.
The bite was like fire; she was sure that she was going to die from
the immense pleasure, as well as the pain he inflicted upon her.
She was close.
The vampire pumped vigorously into her as he drained her life away,
this man who had followed her every night all through her current home-
town of Killeen, Texas, for the past two weeks.
She had first noticed the vampire one night in a club called "Three
Hearts," as she earnestly tried to make the bartender understand that
she only looked eighteen years old. The vampire stood at the far end of
the counter watching her, his eyes never leaving her. He studied her
face, the lines hard living had etched around her deep brown eyes; her
onetime roman nose, definitely broken at least once; and her slightly
full lips as they wrapped themselves around colorful metaphors. The
bartender, meanwhile, adamantly refused to serve Danielle any alcohol.
As she turned away in frustration and ran a hand through her thick,
wavy, mid-length russet brown hair, she noticed the vampire staring at
her. She felt an almost overwhelming compulsion to join him; there was
something about him that attracted her. However, she fought the desire,
for his visage scared her (though she would never admit this); his eyes
were fierce, cruel and bestial; his brow, prominent with thick arched
eyebrows, lent a look of madness; his nose was strong and slightly bent,
like the beak of an eagle; his mouth was wide while his lips were thin
and shadowed by a closely trimmed mustache; and his jaw was severely
angled and covered with an equally closely trimmed beard. The look on
his face eyebrows knitted, lips drawn tightly together told of intense
concentration as he studied her. But he unnerved her, and so she left.
She did not see him again that night. However, she did spot him again
the next night after a particularly telling brawl. She often got into
scraps over her Native American heritage (she was half Coyotero Apache
and too proud of it) and the man she had brained with a pool cue that
evening had made one "Injun" joke too many. The vampire had again been
standing just within viewing distance, eyeing her shrewdly, head nodding
in approval. This time when he saw she had spotted him, he disappeared
into the crowd.
From the next night, and each night thereafter for the next two
weeks, she always noticed him out of the corner of her eye, but whenever
she turned to face him he was gone.
And now, tonight he had been waiting for her in the hills. She had
gone out to relax and commune with the spirits, something she did
rarely, but which was not beyond her. She had picked a place far enough
away that the lights from the town would not interfere with the light
from the stars, sat down cross-legged, and closed her eyes, concentrat-
ing on the serene heart.
After a time she felt a presence, and when she opened her eyes the
vampire stood there in front of her. She hadn t even heard his approach.
She stood up to face him on fairer ground and asked him what he
wanted. He said simply that he had a gift for her. She couldn't possibly
see what he could have been referring to; his old, brown, oiled leather
duster was held open as his hands were thrust into the front pockets of
his worn jeans; anything he had to offer had to either be in his pockets
or in his imagination. She said as much and asked him what he was
talking about as she took a more defensive stance.
Eternal life, the vampire said. Then he smiled, exposing his fangs.
She bolted, and he stood where he was and laughed into the night,
then he ran after her.
"Run, girl!" the vampire shouted. "Fly! Show me you are worthy of
The Gift!"
The vampire chased Danielle across the barren hill lands, keeping
back just enough to give the illusion that she actually had a chance to
get away. Then, with super-human speed he easily caught up with her and
bore her to the ground, rending the legs of her jeans in the process.
She fell prone to the ground, hitting her face hard; blood spurted forth
from her lower lip and she could taste the earth from the arid land in
her mouth.
She turned herself over and fought him viciously and with all her
might, punching, kicking, scratching, and biting, to no avail. The
vampire just laughed a quiet little laugh, as if remembering an old yet
wonderful joke. Twice he let her up a bit to give the illusion that she
was actually doing some harm, and to give her the opportunity to try to
get away. Then he would pounce on her again, knocking the breath out of
her, and laugh.
He tore her clothes from her with ridiculous ease using the talons
that had grown suddenly from his fingertips, clawing and scratching her
in the process.
She screamed, "No!" and cursed him, beating on his head with her
fists and the heels of her open palms, and she pushed violently at his
hands, all to no effect.
After some time at this she'd completely exhausted herself, and so
lay still on her back as he pinned her to the ground by her wrists and
maneuvered himself entirely atop her.
He looked into her face for a minute or so before she demanded that
he just get it over with already.
He in turn asked what her hurry was. Was she so eager to die?
She swallowed almost audibly at that. He was going to kill her?
Yes, he answered simply. But she would revel in the new life he was
granting her. She would enjoy The Gift. But no more questions, the chase
had brought up the heat and desire. He would have her, and she would
love him for it.
As he said all this, he released both of her wrists and undid his
pants, shucking them down below his knees and revealing his intentions.
Danielle did not take the opportunity to try and fight him off again
for she knew it was useless; she'd felt his strength, she couldn't beat
him. And if she ran, he would simply chase her down again and take her
by force. She resigned herself to the fact that she was about to die,
and if she could die while being pleasured, then hell, all the better.
She made herself more available to him and he looked at her
questioningly. Could she be ready so soon?
She reminded him that he had already said he was going to kill her,
so she might as well enjoy herself, right?
He chuckled at that. She was very amusing, this one, and what was her
name? Oh, Danielle. A fine name for a warrior. The feminine of Daniel
who braved the lion's den; Daniel the brave and Danielle, the Brave. Oh,
no insult intended. "Here," he offered. "My apologies," and he sank his
mouth down onto her breast, sucking deeply. She gasped and started to
run her hands up his arms, but he quickly rose up and grabbed her wrists
tightly, roughly pinning them to the ground once again, and angrily told
her no, she was his. He would do this.
She nodded in acquiescence and he relaxed, resuming his lips' embrace
upon her breast. His ministrations soon caused her to make erotic little
whimpers in the back of her throat, so he moved himself up to claim her
mouth.
The kiss was openly carnal. The vampire was a lusty man whose hunger
wouldn't be easily appeased. He wouldn't let her retreat or give half
measure. But that was fine; Danielle didn't want to draw back. She was
as ravenous for him as he was for her. She welcomed his tongue, rubbed
against it with her own as her whimper of acceptance blended with his
raw growl of need.
His passion was consuming her. His mouth ate at her lips, and his
tongue . . . Great Spirit, his tongue made her shake with desire. A deep
yearning began to spread like wildfire through her stomach, then lower,
until it became an excruciating torture.
The vampire released her wrists and his hands moved to her bottom. He
pulled her up against his arousal, and then he was inside her. At the
same time his mouth moved to the side of her neck, and his tongue began
to flick her sensitive earlobe. He whispered promises of all the erotic
things he wanted to do to her. She wanted to experience all of them.
Then he told Danielle that there was no turning back now. She was
going to belong to him.
Heatedly, she answered that, yes, she wanted to belong to him tonight.
No, he grated out. He kissed her long, lingeringly, and told her that
it would not be for just one night, but forever.
Anything, she sighed, barely aware of what she was accepting.
A low growl escaped him and he roughly pulled on her hair until he'd
made a fist of her thick mane, then jerked her head back so he could
once again claim her mouth for another lustful kiss.
Her thighs clenched him tight and he began to move inside her again
with small, slow, undulating motions. Her nails dug into his shoulders,
and if not for the fact that he still wore his duster she would have
gouged him deeply.
The vampire drove into Danielle and slowly withdrew, again and again.
The sound of distant thunder from the coming storm blended with her low
moans of pleasure, his whispered promises. Wave after wave of intense
pleasure spiraled through her body until she was shuddering with her
need for fulfillment.
Danielle was suddenly terrified of what she was doing here this
night, what would happen to her. I can't, she said, as if he would
change his plans to honor her feelings.
He hushed her fear with another long, drugging kiss. It'll go easier
if you let it happen, Danielle, he said. He told her to hold onto him
and let the fear go. He would take care of everything. He would keep
her safe.
She allowed his words to push her fear and vulnerability away. She
felt a storm building inside her, and let it rise in intensity. Then
she felt the rush of climax and her body squeezed him tight. She cried
out with release; then he was tearing into her throat and she was
screaming. Then she was dying.
And he was right: she loved him for it.
"I'm counting on the time
Waiting in line
When will be my turn?
I wonder what it's worth
Between the stones and birth
I'm waisting a life time
The promise of Eden hides our fears
But while we're here
Why wait for Heaven?
Ideally, we could be free
Why wait for Heaven?"
ÄÄWendy and Lisa
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