The Eternal

By Matt Nicholson

Nicole, Kira, and Bailey have a common goal -- to become eternal. They not only find the price -- turning themselves over, body and soul, to the vampires they want to be like -- fair, they find the idea of being used as a vampire's submissive sexual plaything to be the ultimate thrill. It is one evening of being used and tormented in ways they hardly imagine, their bodies nothing more than toys to satisfy the erotically sadistic urges and animalistic hunger of their captors in exchange for everlasting beauty and life. For these women, it's a win-win, though they couldn't have chosen more different paths. Nor could they have imagined how those paths would cross.

(Editor's Note: This work contains graphic language and sometimes extreme sexual depictions of consensual female bondage and sadomasochism. It is intended for mature audiences only and is not suitable for persons under eighteen years of age.)

• Language: English
• Publisher: Darker Pleasures
• Release date: Dec 18, 2013
• ISBN: 9781311882066

Matt Nicholson

Matt Nicholson is a freelance writer and editor for Darker Pleasures Publications, which makes him lucky enough to have written or edited all, or parts of, every story Darker Pleasures has published.Matt is a fan of both hard breast-oriented BDSM as well as hard femdom CBT. His tales, and those of his co-authors, range from R-rated erotica to hard bondage and more extreme BDSM fantasy. Their stories are available individually or in a number of anthologies including the "Tales of Submission" series, the "Beat 'Em or Bite 'Em" series focusing on breasts and BDSM, and the "Bust 'Em or Bite 'Em" series focusing on ball busting and hard CBT.When asked about his work, he says, "My goal is to make your most daring dreams of tit torture or cock and ball torture come to life. I want you to want to be in my character’s shoes, no matter how far from safe and sane the scene might be. Depending on your kink, you might not dare some of it in real life, but the idea still makes your cock stir or your pussy wet. I want to make sure you can’t help but wonder. That’s why we have fiction, to get around real life sensibilities. You read it to live in a world of BDSM you can’t live outside of the covers of a book."So, if you dream of being on the receiving end of such things and think Matt may be onto something, sit back and spread your legs. If your fantasy is to take a pair of tits or balls to the cleaners, turn on your reading lamp and settle in. Oh, and hear would love to hear what you think at mattnicholsonwriter (at) gmail.com.

Book preview

The Eternal

By Matt Nicholson

The Eternal*

Published by Darker Pleasures at Smashwords

Copyright 2013 Matt Nicholson. All rights reserved.

*Revised and greatly expanded from the short stories Becoming Eternal and The Alcove, by Matt Nicholson

Cover image by dmitriycherevko/123RF Stock Photos

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This work contains graphic language and sexual depictions of sometimes extreme consensual and semi-consensual female bondage and sadomasochism. It is intended for mature audiences only and is not suitable for persons under eighteen years of age. This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. All characters depicted in this work are eighteen years of age or older. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce or redistribute this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever. For information, address Darker Pleasures, webmaster at darkerpleasures.com.

Table of Contents

Chapter One – Nicole

Chapter Two – Bailey

Chapter Three – The Club

Chapter Four – The Alcove

Chapter One - Nicole

The Eternal call them freebies, the humans that want to be like them. Almost always young and full of naive fantasies, they picked up everything they knew about vampires from books, movies and blogs—propaganda vampire-kind almost always had a hand in making. They loved to think they were special to the beings they want to be. In reality, most were good for little more than food, distraction and sex—usually all at once—playthings to be used and tossed out, alive or dead, turned or not, depending on the whim.

At least that was the view held by most vampires. There were some, however—most often those that still remembered what it was once like to be human—who thought it only fair to give these fragile beings a taste of the book and movie version before the finale. At over a century old, Phil Sewall was still one of those.

Of course, he also believed in the more old-fashioned ways of doing other things, such as stalking his prey and leaving them to their own devices once he was done. They always figured out how to get by eventually, and the body-less evidence of his adventures left something for the local constabulary and small-town newspapers to puzzle over.

This one was a bit of a departure from his usual method of operation. She seemed to have been stalking him. Since the rest of his kind had shown themselves a few months earlier, things like this happened far too often for his country tastes. Still, she’d managed to intrigue him with her out-of-place good looks and intelligent conversation. He’d given her two hours to get ready after she’d slipped him a note and left the seedy little bar.

"I know what you are. Show me…"

He spent the better part of that time scoping out the secluded little backwoods motel, making certain she was nothing more than the freebie she claimed. It was different actually walking through a door with an invitation rather than crawling through a window or hiding in the shadows, but he didn’t mind the change of pace. She was either confident or naïve being in a room too far from the office for anyone to hear her scream. He didn’t mind that, either.

She opened the door wearing the same Victoria’s Secret black lace corset she’d worn at the biker bar. It did a remarkable job of showing off her smooth white breasts, squeezing them so they bulged over its upper edge, barely letting the top of her puckered areola show. She’d shed her jeans, leaving only a matching thong to cover what little it covered. The thigh-high fishnets were a nice touch. He decided to let them stay. He also liked the lipstick. Candy apple red had always been his favorite.

When she started to say hello, or whatever she planned on saying, he tore the corset apart like tissue, tossing the rent pieces aside.

By the time her breasts stopped bouncing, he’d snapped the thong, leaving only the hose and her waist-long, blonde hair trailing down over her breasts to block the view.

He smiled slightly. Much better. Give me the keys.

Blushing, wide-eyed and speechless despite her earlier bravado, she did as she was told. He bolted the door behind him and tossed the key onto the faux walnut pressed wood desk on the opposite side of the room.

By human standards, she was quite good-looking, surprisingly so for this neck of the woods. By kindred standards…well, they were never short of attractive mortals willing to trade what they saw as an erotic exchange of body fluids for staying young and beautiful forever. That said, Phil would have put her somewhere in the upper part of the pack as far as meals he’d enjoyed over his eleven decades.

She stood there expectantly, not moving as he inspected her like a butcher examining a fine cut of meat. Her green eyes followed his gaze as he worked from top to bottom.

Besides the long, silken hair, she had a pleasant, oval, high-cheekboned face that suggested a bit of Nordic ancestry. Her neck was thin, with prominent arteries. It would have been mouthwatering, if necks had been his thing. Since they weren’t, he looked again at her breasts. The temperature in the room was pleasant, meaning she was either excited or afraid. Either would have caused her rose-tan areola to contract into the three inches of tightly crinkled flesh that drew his attention. Tipped with engorged, purple nipples that poked from beneath the thin curtain of hair, they contrasted quite nicely with the vein-laced whites of her breasts. As he imagined his fangs catching in the wrinkles, she traced her fingers across the top of her chest and pulled her hair back so he could get a less obstructed view.

Pretending not to notice, Phil let his eyes drift down, making certain she understood she was nothing more than filet mignon in a more attractive package. A golden bead pierced her navel inches above a thin, blondish Brazilian strip. Her bare labia were full and flushed a slight pink. The inner folds were mostly hidden, their outer edges barely peeking out. Her heart-shaped bottom was just tight enough to jiggle nicely without dimpling. Its curves melded perfectly into statuesque thighs. He didn’t bother looking any further down. There wasn’t anything there that interested him.

Her hardening nipples, accelerated heartbeat and scent told him what was beneath her façade of abject submission. She was at once excited, aroused, and petrified. It was the same for all of the brave little mortals that wanted to be more—it was her moment of truth.

Phil motioned her to the bed. From there he’d ramp up the excitement and arousal, ramp down the fear, adding the right combination of spices to the recipe.

Have a seat.

She sat, her bare bottom bunching the Walmart bedspread. Once settled, she spread her legs just enough to give him a peek at her now glistening pussy lips. Yet again, he pretended not to notice, instead handing her one of his special gloves.

Have you ever seen these before?

She masked