tagErotic HorrorImmortal Ecstasy

Immortal Ecstasy

byneonlyte©

My tutors told me I would need an infinite amount of patience. I was to bide my time considering the endless permutations and means by which suffering can be inflicted. It is easy to hurt, to destroy; pain resulting from physical intervention barely scratched at the surface of suffering. It was unpleasant for the humans; they usually died. Humans rarely experienced true suffering. Few of their kind ever transcended the thresholds of pain to experience the pure and exquisite ecstasy of the soul true suffering imparted. Most are too fragile to begin that journey. They crumble like a decomposed stalk, unable to take even the first step on the path to immortal ecstasy.

I am the initiator, designated by my tutor to bring a soul into our rarefied community. I cannot pass the portals to complete immortality until I fulfil this task. Even immortals require sustenance. We feed on the depraved thoughts of others. Over time we exhaust the infinite possibilities of depravity that exist within our kind, we need new souls to renew and revitalise our ecstasy. Human souls, my ancestors learnt, have a unique capacity for depravity across many aspects of their existence. Humans succeeded in devising new extremes of degradation. They were the choicest of morsels. So difficult to reach and extract the tortured soul intact from its mortal frame, so difficult to impart the ecstasy of suffering before terror imploded upon their soul.

I have been patient. I have waited thirteen long years. I hunger to feast with my ancestors. My tutors have told me a myriad of souls await my pleasure. I can slate my hunger in the hall of my ancestors, they will feed me with their desires, as surely as I will bring to them the fresh sustenance of my wretched soul borne ecstatically on a crest of lustful desire when torn from my human form.

Each immortal is marked by its predilection. My own is carnal, a depravity I barely acknowledged in my human life. My tutor has told me carnally depraved humans possess the easiest of souls to remove. They are willing to make the sacrifice to achieve immortal ecstasy; it requires practice, is all, to steal their soul at just the right moment. There must be no hint of what is to happen, they have to willingly surrender, desiring ever increasing sexual stimulation until their body is no longer under control and their soul soars on wave after wave of lust, limbs trembling, fluids leaking, mind reeling with a desire never to stop the intensity of the orgasm.

I've practiced; I did not succeed. 'You were too intent on your own pleasure', my tutor admonished, 'your purpose is to give pleasure. You must find souls who conceal their depravity. Remember your own initiation. Remember your fantasies, the way you touched yourself. I know everything about you. I initiated you. Find me a soul like that; the depraved innocent is the sweetest of feasts. Then you can join me in our hall and I will consume you and inflame you more than you can believe possible. I have seen into the darkest recesses of your soul, you crave pleasures upon which you cannot bear to dwell. Find me an innocent and I will release your depravity upon you in incandescent fury.'

My tutor instructed me to recall my transition into this world. I often relive the experience. It sustains me better than the meagre practice attempts I'd made to initiate others.

The initiator chose my boyfriend as his receptacle, I believe from what I am told, the used never recall these deeds. The authorities incarcerate many of the used. It is not easy to explain away the sexual fury that left their partner mortally slain, the used become easy prey for immortals who chosen feast is madness.

We'd planned a picnic on Hampstead Heath, we later intended to listen to the open air concert at Kenwood House, the concert cancelled when my body was discovered in a quiet clearing near the house, my boyfriend laying across my corpse weeping over what he believed he had done.

I had always been sexually curious. I would experiment with many ways to reach orgasm. More than anything, I craved penetration, the instruments I used insufficient for my needs, I desired the heat and stiffness of a penis, one that knew how to give pleasure, an experienced older man, not university boys of my age who's knowledge was limited by the novelty of enveloped ejaculation. My boyfriend was a married man tempted by my overt sexuality during the term of his wife's pregnancy. He too was a tutor, at the university.

We both knew the afternoon before the concert was to be sexual. I'd promised. He wanted. I craved to feel him move inside me.

We drank chilled white wine sitting on a blanket spread over the grass and picked fussily at our lunch. I drank more than I should. I needed courage, not to allow him to do what he wanted but to ask him to do what I wanted. Often when I masturbated, I nearly always used my fingers, I enjoyed the sensation of the moisture and the knotted rivulets of my juice between my finger tips, often when I masturbated, I wanted something probing my anus. I found this difficult to achieve by myself. I would spread my legs before my wardrobe mirror, head propped on two pillows so I could watch the wetness glisten on the wings of my sex and trickle from the folds of my vagina down across the bulb of my anal opening, it was easy then to push something into that tight recess. I used the handle of my hairbrush, I had tried many other objects but it's smooth acrylic finish soothed the entry and a few probes usually brought the required result.

That is what I wanted from this man, I wanted to feel the simultaneous insertion in the wetness of my vaginal opening and the tight bud of my anus as he came inside of me. I whispered this to him as we lay on the blanket my knickers in the grass and my summer skirt gathered above my waist, his fingers exploring the damp folds between my legs. I gasped as he penetrated both openings with his hand and started a journey that brought me to this place, an immortal to live forever cresting on the ecstasy of my deprivation.

My immortal tutor used the receptacle expertly; he gave him a second penis with which to penetrate me, he tossed me like hay on a pitchfork as he rode me to orgasm after orgasm. He strangled me to silence my screams of pleasure that threatened to bring others to our lair. I enjoyed the perversion, I had not known of its existence or the heightened sexual awareness asphyxiation could bring. It was enough for the immortal; he snatched my soul at the precise moment the suffering of not being able to breath passed into ecstasy.

I have prepared my receptacle; I've been in her body many times to help her to release my chosen victim. My tutor has admonished me for my approach. My tutor believes I could have achieved my purpose earlier if I had not fixed on this one target. I have told him she will be worth the wait. She is a virgin. I am preparing her for the lesbian experience she craves. I've befriended her through the receptacle, we study together and we experiment together. We've watched each other masturbate but she won't let me touch her. That is about to change.

We walk home from the sixth form college on a bright sunny late October day. It is All Hallows Eve, a masked ball is planned at the Student Union tonight and we talk excitedly about our preparations. I am meeting her at eight o-clock to dress and apply make-up. She is coming to my house. We are half in love, both too nervous to admit it. Tonight I will take the initiative. I know she will want to masturbate as soon as she arrives, she always does, she says it doesn't feel the same without me watching, and she has promised me I can lick her down there, I refused to go to the ball with her until she agreed.

When she arrived we kissed in the privacy of the hallway, she pressed her pubis at me rubbing against my own. I moved my hand down her body and raised the hem of her skirt. She shuddered as my hand touched her skin and stroked along her thigh. I knew she would be ready; we'd talked about what I was going to do to her all week. She managed to surprise me. She is not wearing knickers and giggled into my mouth through our joined lips as my hand probed and found her moisture. She broke the kiss, eyes sparkling with excitement, and took my hand pulling me urgently to my room. She is a depraved soul my little sister, I only knew her as a child in my human life, it will be exquisite to join with her, I have so much pleasure to share with her and so much innocence to spoil.

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