## Archive-name: the_becoming

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.

Any comments can be sent to me at psyche@gramercy.ios.com or vanessa.lopez@moondog.com

"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

Last modified (12/24/96 14:06:33) by Eli-the-Bearded.

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