Email: Wolfpek
Vampyr Hunter
This is a very sick story that has been in my fantasies since very early adolescence. I wrote it, basically, to exercise it. To get it out of my system. It is not for everyone, and very much not for minors. It is a depiction of male/male rape, vampirism, and slavery. This is a fantasy ONLY. The writer in no way condones rape. Having said all that, now that it is out of my system and shared with the world at large I hope you like it. Enjoy
By Wolf
The Vampyr hunter swaggers into the crypt of Vascularto the Vampyr. He is tall, rugged, and very muscular. At 28, a young but hardened, tough guy who has been in way too many fights and killed countless vampires. His cold grey eyes scan the room in the light of the torch he carries. His stubble covered square jaw set in a suspicious frown. He is dressed in "Indiana Jones" type garb. The rumpled hat set at an angle. His sweat soaked open shirt just barely covers the nipples that crown his massive pectorals. A stake, mallet and coil of rope for climbing tucked within easy reach into the belt that hangs loosely from his lean hips. A series of vampire attacks upon a number of young men in the region have caused the local village to ask for his assistance. He had always been slightly repulsed by sodomites, but had never before encountered a vampire with this tendency. They had shown him the bodies that they had found. He would never forget one handsome young sentry found hanging over a tomb, one nipple bitten off, deep puncture wounds on his cock as well as his neck, a yawning cavern that had once been his asshole dripping greenish semen. What had been done to the bodies of the victims filled him with revulsion, and he is eager to rid the world of this perverted vermin. He finds an empty sconce in which to hang the torch, and strides past a stone altar, and an empty niche, toward the coffin in the centre of the crypt. He does not see the shadowy figure lurking in the niche. It is of course, Vascularto, whose hunched back and pale skin, as white as the marble be hides behind, help him to remain invisible, as he hunches deeply into his long black cloak. His hands extended by impossibly long fingernails folded into a prayer like pose conceal his leering grin and gleaming red eyes. His hairless scalp and long pointed ears glint softly in the torchlight.
The Vampyr Hunter plants his legs wide in front of the coffin, takes up his mallet and stake, spits, and says contemptuously "Say goodnight, you sick faggot". As he throws open the lid, a column of narcotic mist shoots from the empty coffin into his face. A trap!
Our now barely conscious hero falls backward toward the waiting vampire, whose arms encircle the sculpted torso, pulling back the shirt to expose a tender nipple to the torment of a ragged fingernail. Vasculature�s other hand covering the face, turns the Hunter's head away allowing access to the thick sinewy neck. He bares his fangs but stops himself, and instead slowly licks the neck of his victim, from shoulder to earlobe. "No, not yet" he whispers "this is too nice to rush. I hear the blood of a vampire hunter is intoxicating... I'm going to take my time with you". He lifts the hunk over his shoulder, the thin fabric of his breeches pulling taught against the rock hard buttocks, the massive arms swaying slightly, carries him to, and lays him gently across the altar. He lovingly strips his muscular prize naked, caressing every inch of exposed flesh. One tug tears the shirt in two. It is impossible not to nibble delicately on those delicious nipples, consume the musk clinging to the hair nestled deep within the armpits and with his drooling mouth follow the thin treasure trail of soft, light hair leading from between the cleft in the pectorals down along the rippling abdominals to the impressive, perfectly formed manhood. The unbelievably wide delts, and shoulders, the tree trunk thighs, all of this laid out before him like a slab of meat caused his mouth to grow dry, and his breath to shorten. Realizing he had never encountered such masculine perfection in a victim, he smiles. He knows a secret unknown to many of his brethren. It is possible to share your immortality with a living slave.
He enfolds the stud within his spindly caped arms. The sharp contrast of the ripe nude he-man against the voluminous pitch black robes some how makes him seem even more naked and vulnerable to the wizened attacker who says "Do not fear, my beauty, I have decided not to kill you. I am going to drain you to the inch of death, and you will become my slave. You will be a source of food and pleasure for years to come, and you will not age as long as I possess you.. Your perfect beauty will never fade in my grasp". Not realizing that during this slow molestation, our hero has fought his way back to consciousness, and is waiting for an opportunity to escape, he bares his fangs preparing to drink the life force of this demigod, and suddenly finds himself slammed into the stone wall across the room.
"I don't think so" the rough voice responds. Vascularto reels from the series of punches that follow. He has never faced such a strong opponent. Unable to defend himself against his intended victim, he finds himself repeatedly kicked and pummelled so rapidly that he is unable to use his powers to evade the attack. The hero, enraged at having been fondled, like a woman, by such a disgusting withered creature fights with maniacal and deadly precision. He was going to decimate this sickening evil and wipe it forever from the face of the earth. Finally he finds himself kneeling at the mercy of the Vampyr Hunter. Vascularto realizes he is about to be destroyed. As the hunter turns to retrieve his stake and mallet to finish him off, Vascularto sees his last chance at survival. Vampyr Hunter again strikes a heroic pose over his quarry and raises the stake to finish him. With preternatural speed, he locks his mouth around the momentarily undefended cock and sucks, his serpent like tongue encircling the rapidly hardening shaft. Despite a valiant struggle to maintain control the stake again falls to the ground as the warrior feels the demon possess his sexuality. He feebly tries to repel his attacker but sinks to the floor instead, as, unimpeded, ghoulish fingers explore his writhing muscles.
In bizarre psychic sympathy, he experiences the burning desire that the vampire is feeling for him, as if he had a window into the vampire's brain. He sees, and feels what his ravisher sees and feels. An intense unstoppable heat grows in his loins at the sight of his own defilement. He explodes into the insistently sucking vortex of the vampire's throat, and sinks into a dark swoon.
A hideous laugh like rattling bones emits from the blackened lips. He takes the square jaw into his bony hand "I will not repeat my mistake, my valiant friend... this time I will bind you so you cannot defy me again... thank you for so helpfully providing this rope." He bends to kiss the beauty, long slow and deep... After painfully binding his preys wrists and ankles, he once again lifts the helpless, bound hero over one shoulder, his unconscious head lolling slightly with his captor's movements. Vascularto loves to carry his victims in this way. The idea of this virile paragon of masculine power and beauty, helpless in the obscene embrace of a nightmarish leering skeleton, carried unconscious, against his will toward an unspeakable fate, the rock hard muscular buttocks held aloft like a trophy is the finest moment of conquest for the vampire, and with this particular victim he intends to savour it.. The long dirty fingernails digging into the flesh of the upper thigh, he carries his treasure into a deeper part of the crypt, passing glowing torches. The flickering light softly glows on the twin orbs of the stud's ass, occasionally the skeletal hand will slither up to caress one buttock. The flesh does not give. The muscles are too hard, like trying to pinch marble. A reddish drool falls from the vampire's thin lips as he imagines the many things that he will do to this magnificent ass slung so securely over his bony hunched shoulder.
Finally he reaches his goal, a cobwebbed recess in a dark corner containing yet another stone altar below the figure of some ancient savage deity. Before the altar is a raised dais, consisting of two knee high levels, on either side of one waist high level. There is a manacle, at each corner of this Dias. He lowers his prize gently, face down onto this apparatus, untying the wrists and ankles to imprison them once again in each manacle. Our rugged warrior is now bent over the apex of the Dias his ass raised high, and dripping cock hanging between his parted legs. His most private parts exposed to his captors will. His mind, once again struggles toward consciousness. The ghoul falls heavily to his knees before the two succulent globes. He has lived hundreds of years but has never seen an ass as perfect as this. Many would call this a "bubble butt" high, taught and round, dimpled on the sides. Years of rigorous physical training has created steely protruding muscles that do not give to the touch. The demons breath catches in his throat at the sight of such a virile prize helpless before him. Reverently cupping his long skeletal hands on the taut flesh he separates them to reveal the brownish rose hidden between. As if of its own will, his long serpent like tongue begins the savoury journey into the heaven before it. He begins with the tip of the long thick cock hanging downward between the parted legs, while unusual in it's size it remained in pleasing proportion to the sinewy muscles that surround it, unlike the deformity hanging stiffly well past the knees of the slobbering troll behind him, who's flickering tongue finds its way up the shaft and takes the ovular balls into his mouth sucking them around in between the rows of fangs without harming them. Still upward he pauses again at the perineum, that secret place between cock and asshole, still on teasingly circles the rim of the tender pucker nibbling at the few hairs that ring the gates to this paradise, before plunging it deep within the defenceless hole. The young hunk fights his way back to the surface of awareness just as the ghoul buries his face deep within the crevice plunging his tongue deeper, deeper within his victim's virgin ass. A low rumbling moan escapes his lips, as what seems to be a cold wet worm undulating into his bowels, the sharp fangs scraping against his ass lips, as those long fingernails dig into the flesh of his ass, and reach down to stroke his hardening cock "noooo......" He realizes that he is to share the fate of that young soldier. His mind, still melded with that of his rapist's sends the same message of the vampire's intense desire to his own cock which hardens and oozes in sympathy with it. Finally the vampire can wait no longer. He stands over the helpless stud, and rips open his robe to reveal his own massive dripping cock, ivory white and covered with small hairs like the legs of a fly, as his canine teeth are pronounced fangs so has a small pointed barb grown at the tip.
"And now, my beauty, can your strength save you now?" He plunges it mercilessly into the helpless, unprepared asshole. There is a level of pain that can actually cause its recipient to see a blinding white light, and smell the metallic pain of blood in the nostrils. This first assault happens so quickly that the hero experiences this before actually feeling the pain, as his sphincter is ripped to almost three times its diameter. The scream rising from his centre is strangled in his throat to become a hoarse grunt as he struggles to breathe to accept the second paralyzing thrust. Impaled as he is upon the long gnarled rod, the exact experiences taking place within the mind of the thrusting monster behind him flood his brain. Along with the pain and humiliation, this bizarre psychic bond allows him to feel what it is like to rape himself, the sensations of the pistoning rod buried up to his very centre play out on his own pulsing cock, as his slender hips are slammed painfully into the stone over which he is draped... Disgust and rage grapple with intense pleasure in his blown mind. He tries to struggle, but only finds himself bucking up into the stabbing thrusts, and sees with the vampire's eyes that this only increases the rapist's thrill. He must kill this demon... if he could only break free.
For his part, the Vampire is transported far beyond pleasure into a pitch he has never before experienced. A maniacal rhythm develops as he thrusts, torques, and twists into the ravished asshole now seeping fluids which he will lap up greedily later. His victims body, now a limp rag doll flopping wildly with every ramming thrust. The head bouncing painfully into the stone Dias causing a bleeding bruise above the right eye. The breathless grunts drive him into an even more reckless pace. "unhh... ungg ahhh� hungh huh huh huh"
They explode simultaneously. The demon's seed insidiously working its way up into and further fogging the helpless stud's brain like tendrils of an insidious vine. Both of them exhausted, all muscles release and the vampire collapses upon the sweat covered back of his prey. He knows he cannot relax. The hunter is not yet his slave and he must move quickly before this massive hunk is able to strike back.
He gingerly pulls his cudgel out of the raped ass followed by a tempting flow of blood and semen seeping down the curved muscles and notices a small piece of wood on the cobbles at his feet. He had almost forgotten. "Ahh yes the conquering hero's weapon" he says with derisive relish "You came to kill me did you not? A dangerous instrument indeed... Now where can we hide it so that it cannot threaten me further?"
"Nnoooo..." comes the barely audible reply.
"No? Oh but what a beautiful setting" He rams it up the ruined chute with a slow twist, in back out and then firmly deep within.
"Uuug� ghh"
"Oh happy stake...the luckiest stake in the world" The monster taunts cruelly. "Oh to be that stake".
There is not much time, if this massive man beast regains control of his body he will be unstoppable. Taking no chances, Vascularto releases the veined forearms, and huge calf's from the manacles, rebinds them with the Hunter's own ropes, and carries, this time cradle like, enjoying the sight of the chiselled nude form carried against the dark black robes the head hanging mouth open upside down, to the bloodstained slab under the hideous idol.
The Hunter feels himself laid out on the rough cold slab a flawless sacrifice to the gods of lust, his own stake painfully wedged deep within his asshole. He frantically sends messages to his arms to rise to his aid and break his bonds, but his body still numb from the rape does not respond his arms bound behind him raise his chest up tantalizingly toward his captor, his spirit floating freely from his body. Only his rigid member standing shamefully upward retains strength.
The parasite presses his thin dead lips against the live full lips of his victim forcing them apart into a lingering invasive kiss, the tongue so far down the throat of his new toy that the young man struggles to breathe. Once again the spectral hand covers the sculpted face softly turning it away from him, the neck now stretched vulnerable before him. The other hand lovingly cups a heaving pectoral. He feels the strength returning into the hero's body, no longer waiting for another fight he would surely lose, he bares his fangs wide. Too late the warrior is able to break the ropes that bind his arms, just as the fangs touch his neck.
The razor like incisors make a crunching sound as they plunge deep past skin and sinew and finally pierce the vein. The taste of a vampire hunter's blood far exceeds any legend he had heard of it. Blood carries all of the elemental tastes of life from earth, iron, nectar, chlorophyll, salt, all combine to create the heady taste from which he feeds, but this pure blood, tastes and smells of masculine power, battle, and sex, of strong wine, and sweet, sweet honey. This blood is going to his head in a way he has not felt since he was alive.
He hears the deafening pounding, pounding of his victims heart, matched exactly by his own, gushing into his brain with it's boiling hot power, so much power he fears it will destroy him and still he continues to feed as what seems like gallons in one second gulp down in throat almost choking him. Steaming ruby rivets run from the sides of is mouth down the perfect chest and over one nipple. The masculine force of the blood forces both parasite and host to rise in the air the latter hanging limply from the grasp of his possessor. The vampire feels the immense strength surge through his own veins as his reeling mind remembers that he must pull out or kill what he so desires. He wants this one to live.
The body in his arms spasms violently once and begins to relax into stillness.
The muscular nude beauty feels the same insane pounding in his ears as heart pounds in unison with the ghouls. The pain stretches from his punctured neck throughout every corpuscle following out of his body, and now begins to subside as he feels himself fall into darkness.
The Vampyr hunter's cold grey eyes shoot open and adjust to the gloom within the coffin he lies on his back impaled on his master's immense cock. The sleeping vampire's left hand pinches his right nipple, while the right maintains a strangle hold on his own ever stiff member. The dark bruised puncture wounds in his neck contrast to his perfect alabaster skin. These same twin scars appear on his cock and ass. Wherever it has been the master's pleasure to feed. He does not know how long it has been like this, how many days, months years, How many poor young men he has failed to save from the clutches of this monster behind him, how many have become vampires themselves. He can now only spend every moment servicing the master's every perverted hunger. He can now only wait until that day when another brave Vampyr Hunter comes to save him, or replace him here.
He senses night approach. He feels the master's cock grow harder within him and the skeletal hand tighten its painful grip around his cock. It was time for the master to feed.
