Followed Home (Erotic Tale of a Vampire)

by Grace, Audrey

  She gasps and closes her eyes. She can feel his thickness inside her. It tingles her all over. She has never felt so full. His veins, wriggling protrusions, ripple past her folds. His firm thrusts make her tremble with excitement.

  She feels as if his touch has infiltrated into every cell membrane of her body. It is as if his presence is felt in her entire existence, in her memories, in her future. It is as if time collapses to a single point, and he is there.

  She caresses him, feels the muscles of his back ripple and roll as he thrusts into her, his pace increasing, his power increasing. She moans and gasps at each thrust, and throws her hips forward to meet his thrusts.

  She pulls his head toward her neck again, asking for more of that sting, begging him to truly take her. He’s pushing deeper and faster into her. His breathing is rapid. His skin is starting to flush. She can feel a heat within him, and it thrills her.

  “Take me,” she whispers to him again.

  He lets his mouth fall open and he once again sinks his fangs into the soft skin of her neck. He pushes them deeper than he did before, and she feels her blood gushing out of her. It is almost as if she is being drained. He drinks deeply, hungrily, never once relenting his powerful thrusts, and she moans in delight, a mixture of pain from the bite and pleasure from his manhood coursing through her consciousness.

  She becomes disconnected from her body, transported to a wondrous place. He takes a hand and thumbs her pearl and she crests almost immediately. Powerful convulsions take over her body. Extreme pleasure takes over her mind. She screams out into the air, captured, conquered, taken by the vampire. Her orgasm lasts for minutes, and she thrashes and writhes on the cape, her eyes shut and unable to open, her face bunched up in a twitching mess of muscle.

  His thrusts grow more rapid and he, too, tightens up. His face, too, bunches up. He climaxes within her, and groans quietly onto her neck. She holds him tightly. The two have become one. He has captured her essence, ensnared her soul.

  And she has given him a heart.

  They lie together, heaving, a mess of limbs and flesh.

  He continues to drink from her, but he is saddened. He knows she is approaching death. “Stay with me,” he says intensely. His voice is hoarse and pleading.

  “Okay,” she whispers back, but that is not good enough for him.

  “Do you want to be with me forever? Do you want to walk this earth and not grow old? Do you want to feel the pleasure of drinking like I do?”

  “Yes,” she says after a moment. “Yes, I do. I want that.”

  “Then drink of me, do you understand?” She nods. “Do you understand?” he asks again severely. She nods again.

  “Yes, I understand.”

  “Good,” he says, lowering to kiss her. She kisses him back, tasting her own blood on his lips. He breaks the kiss and holds his wrist above her mouth. He slices open his flesh with a nail, and blood flows from the wound. “Drink of me,” he says, “and we can be together forever.”

  She puts her mouth around his wound and drinks the flowing crimson. She swallows and swallows and the blood becomes sweeter. She keeps drinking to his encouragement, and she feels his manhood twitch inside her.

  The blood intoxicates her. She is becoming drunk on it. She feels something changing. She feels his blood now in her veins. She feels that she is no longer of this world, that her body and her mind are separate, disparate.

  He pulls his wrist away. “Do not worry,” he says, as her face grows startled, as she begins to feel the sensations of change. Her heart begins to slow. She has trouble breathing. He lays down beside her and puts an arm around her. He holds her for comfort. “Do not be scared,” he whispers into her ear, kissing her tenderly on the cheek.

  She feels the onset of death. Its cold fingers grope at her body, at her mind. She feels a fear, but abates it with discipline. She trusts the vampire. She will not be hurt. She will die and then she will come alive again. A different kind of alive. A different kind of life.

  She looks out of her mortal eyes for the last time and into the eyes of her mysterious lover. He is stunning. He is immaculate. He is inhuman.

  Her vision fades. It grows dark. Her breathing shallows. It stops. Her eyes close. She dies.

  She is alive. Her eyes fire open and she gasps for air before groaning out into the night. Her stomach is on fire. She clutches at it in agony, and looks at the vampire beside her. “What’s happening to me?” she asks, her eyes betraying her fear.

  “Shh, shh, it is just your hunger. Push it away. Suppress it. Learn to control it. Do not become its slave.”

  “Okay,” she says, remembering that she trusts him, remembering that he won’t hurt her. She forces herself to think of something else, to ignore the searing pain within her. Her discipline is strong, and her conqueror smiles, impressed by her quick reigning-in of a vampire’s one true weakness.

  “Good,” he says. “Good. You are doing well, my love.” She looks into his eyes, hearing that word. She feels for her heart but it is not racing. It does not skip a beat. It is dead, unmoving. But the heart in her mind flutters all the same.

  “My love,” she whispers to her capturer.

  “My love,” he reaffirms to her. She looks down his naked body, and sees his manhood has sprung to life once more.

  “Not yet,” he says, “not yet. You need to sate that hunger first.”

  “I can control it,” she says, rolling onto her side and taking his thickness into her hand. She pumps him violently, and his eyes flutter for a moment.

  “N-no,” he says, reasserting himself. “You won’t be able to.”

  “I can and I will,” she says before mounting him. She slides him into her and rides him, quashing the hunger within her, focusing on him within her. She feels the pleasure, and it is different somehow. Heightened, intensified. She grinds her hips into his body, crushing her clit against his pubic bone. She sees his pleasure on his face and is spurred on. He reaches for her breasts and caresses them gently, tenderly. He takes her nipples between his fingers and rolls them and tweezes them and pinches them.

  She rides him faster, harder. She grinds into him with a power she did not know she possessed.

  They climax again, and he holds her to him tightly. His warmed body warms her cold body. They moan and grunt and thrash against each other. They lay again together, panting, heaving, wriggling, writhing.

  Their pleasure fades into oblivion.

  “My love,” she says. “My name is Cecelia.”

  “My love,” he says. “My name is Erik.”

  “Let’s eat,” she says.

  # # #

  On behalf of all erotica authors, I would like to thank you for supporting the genre. It is hugely popular, immensely diverse, and is filled with myriad examples of great writing, and yet it is rarely afforded the privilege of shelf space (and in the virtual sense, too!). Your patronage is what allows us to keep doing what we love.

  For that, I am eternally grateful.

  I hope you enjoyed this story at least as much as I enjoyed writing it. Please feel free to send me feedback in any way, shape, or form.

  If you are comfortable doing so, leaving a truthful review (so that means negatives, too!) would not only help me with my craft, but it would also give me direction on what to write next.

  Thank you - AG.

  About the Author

  Audrey Grace is the pen name of a thirty-something traveler who has followed her father and his job around the world. A rebellious tomboy in her teenage years, Audrey first discovered her love of scribbling smut with an erotic short story written for class when she was fourteen. It was titled The Erotic Adventures of Hercules and earned her an appointment with the principal.

  Having lived in Australia, Canada, China, Hong Kong, Japan, and the United Kingdom, smut (and traveling) have always been Audrey’s one consistent. Blessed with a hyperactive sex drive, it’s the one thing she just can’t stop doing. Audrey is currently based in Melbourne, Australi
a, but she won’t stay there for long!

  www.AudreyGraceErotica.com

  Audrey.Grace.Erotica@gmail.com

  Check out Audrey Grace’s Author Page at Amazon!

  * * *

  Bonus Material 1

  Check out this excerpt of Audrey Grace’s tale of forced gangbang feeding:

  Mated to the Vampire Clan

  By Audrey Grace

  * * *

  A flat tire leaves Maddi stranded in the middle of a forest road. Her only chance is the abandoned house just down the road. Upon arriving, she falls asleep on the sofa. When she wakes, over a dozen pale-skinned creatures slip out of the darkness like wraiths, and she is utterly at their mercy..

  * * *

  Maddi screamed herself awake, her eyes springing open and her head on a swivel, turning violently from side to side. The room was so dark. She could not see anything. It was like a shroud of darkness had descended upon her, blinding her.

  “Who’s there,” she cried out, sensing a presence. No, she thought. It was just a nightmare. Just a nightmare. Just a nightmare.

  She looked toward the hallway. What was that? Something shadowy, something large, lurking in the darkness. “I said who’s there?!” she yelled, her voice shaking and the tendrils of terror and panic starting to creep into her consciousness. The shadow stepped forward, and as a soft light that seemed to originate from nowhere bathed him, she saw it was a man. A large, muscle-bound man. He was completely nude, and she looked him up his body. Powerful legs, thick thighs… a penis outlandishly large. Abdominals, pecs, wide shoulders, a strong jaw, a high nose… and dead eyes.

  “Madeline,” the man said, his voice a hoarse and rumbling whisper. The windows shook. Maddi’s bones rattled.

  “How do you know my name?” she asked, two tears squeezing out from either eye.

  “We know lots about you,” the man said, his voice imbued with a kind of cold curiosity.

  “Who is ‘we’?”

  “Us,” he said, hissing it. She saw a pale pink tongue slip out from beneath his lips to lick them, coating them in a glistening sheen. In the time it took for Maddi to blink once, he was upon her, one hand at her throat, the other grasping for her crotch beneath her skirt. Maddi let out a howl of horror, but one look into the black eyes of the strange man before her silenced her instantly.

  “Wh-what are you doing?” she asked, panic-stricken.

  “We smelled you,” the man said, lowering his head down her body and sniffing at her like an animal. His mouth curled wickedly and from beneath his lips, two gloriously white fangs glinted, like jewels in his mouth. Maddi gasped, and all that she could think of was what her ridiculous boyfriend had said to her on the phone. Vampires. Monsters. Poltergeists.

  “No, no,” Maddi choked out hoarsely. “Please…”

  “Quiet, Madeline,” the man said impatiently. His grip on her throat tightened and she coughed and spluttered. Goose bumps erupted on her skin as she became aware, for the first time, of how dry the pale fingers on her neck felt.

  “Wait,” she pleaded, sensing a horrible lust unleashed within the man-creature before her.

  “We shared your dreams,” the man said, his voice frosty. “We saw the man you dreamed of, the one who rescued you.” He laughed wickedly. “He won’t come for you tonight. We killed him. Millennia ago.”

  “What?” she said, starting to feel anger. “What the hell are you talking about.”

  “That man in your dreams. He cut through the trees.”

  “B-but that was just a dream!”

  “Not just a dream. We shared your dream. You shared ours. What are dreams but memories discarded into the unconscious lake? The currents of sleep occasionally drag the dregs up to the surface. But no matter. He is no longer of this earth. He is lost to the depths of death.”

  “Let me go!” Maddi said, her fear waning and her rage growing exponentially. The feeling of helplessness that invaded her consciousness, as her neck was trapped in the clutches of this undead creature, was abrasive and unnatural.

  “We smelled your scent,” the man said, squeezing powerfully around Maddi’s sex. Slowly, the realization dawned on her. Did they mean they smelled her… arousal?

  * * *

  Bonus Material 2

  Check out this sneak peak of Audrey Grace’s horror sex story of a young girl stalked by a lustful shadowy entity:

  Shadow's Spoil

  By Audrey Grace

  * * *

  Sarah has a nightly ritual before bed. She looks out of her window onto the empty street. She undresses and slips between the sheets. She masturbates. This time she sees a shadow lurking in a puddle of light, but thinks nothing of it. But after climaxing, when she drifts into dream land, the shadow returns to ravage her.

  * * *

  She was wearing a t-shirt again. She was wearing underwear again. Her underwear was damp and it clung to her. She was wet and slick and slippery. Her vulva pulsed and cried and begged. She slipped her underwear down her legs. She stroked her smooth skin. She removed her t-shirt and posed with her arms above her ahead. Her breasts were round and firm and clung to her chest. Her nipples were stiff and angry and dark. Her areolas were small and tight and circular. She posed and posed. She tweezed her nipple in between her fingers. She cupped her breasts and massaged them. She lifted them and let them fall. She sent her hands downward over her abdomen, over her pubis, her digits like bloodhounds running through a forest. Her pubic hair was soft. It was like garnishing. A piece of parsley on mashed potatoes. A stalk of spring onion floating in soup. A dollop of wasabi on a glistening piece of pink salmon.

  The shadow moved and she saw its eyes. They were white. They were not shadow. They were bright. They were devouring. She ran a finger over her clit. She lifted a leg to the windowsill. She bared herself to the shadow. She ran a finger up her slit. She played her labia, parted it, her moist and pink flesh revealed. Her piece of salmon. Her bowl of soup. She opened her interior to him, two fingers like a doctor’s tool. The shadow moved closer, the eyes grew hungrier.

  “Sarah,” she heard. The voice was deep and rumbling. The air went into hiding. The silence that followed was deafening.

  She rubbed her clit in circles. She pushed a finger into her entrance and withdrew it again. On her finger was her own desire, her own pleasure. She shivered and panted. Her tunnel tightened and relaxed; her canal clenched and unclenched.

  “Sarah,” she heard again. Her eyes were shut tight and bunched up in bliss. Her body was convulsing and flexing and twitching. Her hands were rubbing and probing and plunging.

  “Sarah,” she heard and the voice was suddenly close. She opened her eyes and there was the shadow. It was in her bedroom, standing before her. It was in the shape of a man but tilted. The proportions were long, too long. He seemed to stretch on forever like the towering trees. His skin was fuzzy, indistinct. His eyes were bright and white and hungry. She raised her hands toward his face and he smelled her essence, and rumbled and stretched around her. She felt a touch, warm and wet. A phantom tongue that licked her fingers, that consumed her pleasure and desire.

  The shadow lifted her and swirled around her. She floated to the bed and was again in between her silken sheets. Her sex was wet again. She felt the touch of his ethereal fingers. They parted her labia and opened her up. They pulled up the hood that sheathed her clit. Her vision grew murky. Her head was swimming. The walls of her bedroom disappeared and around her trees shot up from the ground. They melted into streetlights and cast down pools of illumination onto her bed. They were all pointed at her, like spotlights. Buildings built themselves. The street outside her house was formed and her bed was in the middle. She wondered if a car would come and hit her and kill her.

  The shadow did not fear the light. The light did not blitz it like the sun blitzes darkness. The light fell into him, went through him. The shadow did not cast a shadow.

  “Sarah,” the shadow said again, its breath a dark and freezing cloud that wrappe
d around her midriff. His head was low on her body and she looked down as the shadow descended, its fuzzy form moving and changing, like currents of ink twirling in water.

  She moaned. She sighed. A touch on her clit and soon it was in vacuum, sucked into the shadow, flicked at by darkness. Pleasure shot through her and she bucked and thrashed and vines crept out from under the bed to take her arms and hold them high. Her arms were bound and ankles too and she was spread on the bed that billowed and undulated beneath her, like the rolling hills of the forest, which were like the rolling waves of the sea.

  * * *

  Bonus Material 3

  Check out this excerpt of Audrey Grace’s sci-fi tale of an alien abduction that takes a turn for the erotic:

  Virgin Mate to Aliens

  By Audrey Grace

  * * *

  Fresh graduate Brenda has gotten herself lost on some winding, narrow, and empty country road. Suddenly, her car mysteriously dies, the ground begins to shake, and a great neon light floods down to swallow her. She only barely makes out the hovering triangular craft before she blacks out. When she comes to, she realizes she is bound at the wrists and ankles, spread-eagle. She's been abducted by aliens, and they tell her that she's going to help them repopulate their species, whether she likes it or not...

  * * *

  Brenda opened her eyes. Her vision was blurry, and she couldn’t make out any detail. All around her were indistinct and vague shapes, hints at structure, but nothing her brain could process. Her sinuses stung, and she felt dizzy and disoriented.

  “Ugh,” she groaned, closing her eyes, and retreating back into the comforting darkness. She didn’t want to think where she was. She tried to move her hands down to rub her eyes, but metal clinking told her she was restrained. She tried to move her legs, but found that they were bound, too.

  It was the tilting forward of her head that alerted her to the fact that she wasn’t lying down — she was vertical. Opening her eyes slowly, her vision adjusted to the low light and she saw, surrounding her, a least a dozen… creatures.