Imogen and the Immortal

A single light burned in the kitchens, where some poor soul still toiled, but that light grew dimmer and dimmer, the house fading as he rose, Imogen held lifelessly against him.

It was a large estate, and minutes passed as he crossed the acres of arable land, the tenants' buildings, the lake and graveyard, until finally he arrived at the ruins of a temple. It had never truly served that function, and had been but a replica of one that an ancestor of the Bowdler family had seen when visiting Greece several centuries before. Yet despite its lack of function, it did connect to the ancient crypts that sprawled beneath the graveyard, where the creature that had once been a man now made its lair.

The building was a ruin, the roof caved in some three score years before, yet he had found the gap in the rubble where the rats fled at his arrival. Imogen moaned sleepily in the crook of his thick neck, and he roughly threw aside mounds of the stone debris in his impatience to claim her, revealing a dark hole through which he descended.

Down they went, down dank stairs that echoed every sound of their passage back to them. Cassius had no need for light, and brushed a hand easily through the cobwebs that stretched across their way before they could snag on Imogen's immobile body. They passed through chambers that housed forgotten tombs, and long, narrow halls lined with crumbling doors. To the woman, the darkness would have been a choking thing, thick with death, yet she knew nothing as he carried her to his domain.

Finally, they came to the place the creature had made its own in the past weeks. Once, hundreds of years before, it had been the treasury of the family who lived there before the Bowdlers. The bleak stone walls, and the very depth of the large chamber made it a cold, unwelcome place, prone to mysterious drafts and strange echoes. Stone arches, paler than the walls and likely from a different era, stretched along the far wall, their only function that of further decoration to whatever treasures had once filled the dank space. Of that treasure, very little remained.

There were carpets strewn across the floor, frayed and faded to be almost colourless, and thick with centuries of dust. Candelabra lined the walls in tall, silver stands. He had enthralled one of the groundsmen to clear debris from the room and replace the candles, which had spoiled centuries before. The man had found a fainting couch of red velvet and mahogany, and almost the creature laughed at the thought of the puny human dragging that couch from the manor house all the way to the crypts. How fitting that Imogen would be taken on a surface where once she'd sat in blissful innocence.

With a gesture from his clawed hand, the candles blinked to life, dancing flames casting a warm glow on the bleak walls, flickering echoes of them dancing in the gilt frame of a large mirror, its surface hidden behind the folds of a tattered sheet. Nearby, an old, high-backed chair stood under the stone arches, its upholstery ruined, a forgotten throne in a forgotten place where the creature now reigned.

He set Imogen on her feet, her slender shoulders drooping, her hair a long curtain of flame. She moaned again, slowly stirring to wakefulness as he walked away from her, then settled his hulking form in the throne-like chair to watch her.

Imogen blinked her eyes, her head heavy and full of half-remembered touches. She looked about her for a moment in puzzlement, almost catching a glimpse of a place she did not know, before the room took a different shape before her, and she found that she was in Frederick's apartments at the manor. She had never been there before; the room had been kept closed when they were children, and only later had been aired and redecorated to prepare for Frederick and his wife.

Yes, that was it. As is the case in dreams, her mind filled in what knowledge she lacked. Helped along by the creature's dark power, it informed her that she was a wedded woman now, and that she must come to know her husband as a wife, here in their richly furnished bedroom.

In a cozy chair near the crackling fireplace, Frederick waited. Tall and handsome, so much stronger than she had thought, he sat before her bare-chested in fine grey trousers. His lips curled into a smile, his eyes hooded, hungry.

Her heart hammered in her chest as she went to him, her long nightgown trailing against the soft carpet of their suite. She came to stand before him, the belled sleeves of silvery white grazing his thigh as she brought her hand to touch the side of his face.

She leaned forward, her lips puckered for a chaste kiss, but his hand enclosed her wrist, so much rougher than he had ever been with her, and he pulled her forward so that she fell hard against him. Immediately his wide mouth claimed hers, his long tongue thrusting into her to seek her own. She squirmed in his grip, trying to pull away, but he held her head against his, his tongue a lewd promise of the dance their bodies would perform.

'Frederick,' she gasped finally, 'you're hurting me.'

She thought the look he gave her was contrite. He released her, and she stepped back, puzzled at his brutishness, yet aware of a growing excitement within her. Steeling her resolve, she considered the scandalous instruction she had once heard a married friend provide another: that men liked to be kissed on their members.

She had never seen a grown man naked, had only vague recollections of glimpses when she and others had splashed together in a pool as small children. Bravely she knelt before him, eager to show her worldliness, she who had always denied his seeking hands.

She reached for the top of his trousers, and he stood up from the chair, so that she might pull down the fabric. She felt only the soft, expensive material that Frederick favored, never knowing that she gripped in her hand only a tattered rag. He stepped from it and cast it aside, and Imogen leaned back, her cheeks crimson as she gazed upon his nakedness.

His whole body seemed suddenly so much bigger than she remembered, his limbs thick with muscle, but most intimidating was the thing that hung at the joining of his thighs. The enthrallment painted him into the image of a man, but still Imogen saw the true dimensions of his cock, so much thicker and longer than she'd been led to expect, a dark tangle of hair at its base. His balls hung low, large and heavy, a strange sight to her virginal eyes. How could she know that those overlarge, bull-like testes betrayed his lack of humanity?

He sat down again, but now spread his thighs wide, his manhood lewdly displayed so very close to her face. Hesitantly, she brought her lips closer, ready to plant a trail of kisses along that strange, veined organ. Yet before she could touch him, the thing began to move, growing longer and thicker and drawing itself into a straight hard length obscenely pointed at her face.

Imogen touched a finger to the flesh, so much colder than she'd expected, then another, then gathered her courage and wrapped her hand around the thick base. Her wide blue eyes traced the veins along the thick appendage, then came to rest on the fleshy head. This was where she would plant her kiss. Lips drawn together, she pressed them lightly against the top of him member, startled as a slimy wetness met her touch. But Frederick's hand was in her hair suddenly, fisted in the thick curls, and he forced her head down on him, so that her mouth opened and his manhood forced its way into her mouth, cold and thick and stiff against the wet warmth of her. Aghast at the size of him, but desperate to please her love, Imogen held onto the base of his member as she began to lightly suck on it. Frederick splayed his legs wider, leaning back and thrusting his body closer to her, forcing more of himself into the small chamber of her mouth.

Her breasts brushed against his knee, and he reached a hand again into the front of her nightgown, roughly pinching the small nipple as Imogen gasped around his shaft. While his fingers kneaded the soft flesh of her breast, she sucked and stroked the rigid organ in her mouth, her tongue darting over the tip seemingly of its own accord. Carefully she grazed him lightly with her teeth, and he made a low, growling sound in the back of his throat. The hand in her hair gripped her harder, and he began to force her to dip her head rhythmically along his length as he thrusted into her, her tongue dancing along his frenzied member.

Suddenly his nails dug into her scalp and she gasped in pain, her discomfort only growing as he pressed himself into her heavily, then seemed to erupt in her mouth as a thick, salty slime pulsed from his manhood to coat her tongue and throat. She gagged on his length, but he held her in place as he spent himself, and with tears snagged in the thick fans of her lashes she gazed up at him as she was forced to swallow his seed.

Frederick breathed heavily as he pulled his softened member from her mouth. He grinned down at her, laughing softly, but the sound began to change from the familiar tones of her beloved, to the strange, dark, guttural amusement of a thing glimpsed only in nightmares.

The illusion fell away, the enthrallment released her. Imogen knelt on a dirty floor in a cold stone chamber, at the feet of a beast. It was a terrible thing that echoed only dimly the limbs of a man, for it was tall and thick with muscle, its flesh a pale grey. She saw the terrible hand that released her head, overlarge and ending in sharp, filthy claws.

The genitals that her bewitched mind had painted human she now saw as the thick, sickly pale member of a ghastly creature, its scrotum dark as a bull's and equally heavy beneath the weapon she had sucked on so lustily.

She met its gaze, its countenance now stripped of the illusion of Frederick, and it was a terrible face she beheld. Broad and bony was the head upon the thick neck, too thick to be human. Its cheeks were sunken, its mouth a maw devoid of lips, stretching into a grin to reveal yellow, razor-sharp teeth. Its nose was a flat snout that she had seen before, once, in Lady Pernington's display of curiosities. Amongst her collection of formaldehyde-filled jars had been a bat from America, a thing that fed on blood.

Imogen drew in sharp breath as the last fog of the creature's power drifted from her mind, and she saw its terrible wings with their clawed tips and bat-like membranes. She had heard too many stories to wonder what nightmare she beheld. She let out a low wail that rose in pitch until it became a terrible scream, the creature's dark, almost-human eyes watching her silently as she gave voice to her terror. Her screams bounced off the walls, spilled into the passages of that dark, deep place and died away, unheeded.

Hoarse, strength coming back slowly to her limbs, Imogen scrambled to her feet. The immortal beast watched with some amusement as she steadied herself, then with a sudden surge of adrenaline she sprinted for the doorway and the stone steps beyond, her nightgown whipping about her pale legs. She had made it up the first six steps, the bare foot just touching the seventh, when a massive claw enclosed her ankle and she fell hard against the angular stairs. The creature dragged her mercilessly back, the hem of her gown snagging on a jutting stone so that the fabric bunched up around her middle, then her breasts. She fought the creature's grip, flailing until she was on her back, her elbows slamming against the steps as he dragged her down.

Cassius paused for a moment, taking in his first view of her nude body. Her breasts heaved with exertion, her garment bundled under arms now above those smooth, pale globes. Her nipples had hardened in the chilling horror of seeing the monster so clearly, two taught peaks that he hungered to taste again. His gaze travelled down her stomach even as she renewed her struggles, and he grabbed her other ankle, splaying her legs for a moment to look upon her sex. Beneath the tight auburn curls, the lips parted to his gaze, slick with the arousal she'd felt while under his spell.

The arousal was gone. There was only terror as he released her legs to grasp her by the forearms. He lifted her easily, hardly feeling the blows he rained down upon his beastly face, his massive chest with its strangely protruding ribs. The gown fell back into place, hiding the beauty of her form, yet Imogen knew it would offer no protection against the terrible being that bore her swiftly towards her ruin.

'Come Imogen,' he murmured close to her ear as he carried her. 'Does not this night mark your passage into womanhood? Is it not time you know the ways of men and women?'

'You are no man!' she sobbed as he set her down on the divan. She would not cease her struggles, weeping bitterly as she tried to break free of his grip. But he held her still, his strength as endless as his immortal life-force as he forced her to sprawl against the curved back of the couch, his own body pressing down heavily upon her.

'Once, I was,' he informed her, his voice thickening as the hunger of his loins grew. Holding her, one knee resting between her hip and the back of the divan, his member rested against the warmth of her thigh. The fluid of his arousal smeared against the silken fabric as his member hardened, and her blue eyes took in the growing shaft with horror. 'Your mother thought I was a finer man than any,' he growled, the articulate speech at odds with the beastly form. 'She promised me her hand and I went to Transylvania, that place of legends, to make my fortune. All for her, for Elizabeth, the whore that promised to wait for me!'

Beneath him, Imogen trembled at the fury of his voice, at the horrifying promise in the way he held her down. The monster continued, 'But then I find that she did not wait, that she wed and took to her bed my dearest friend, of all she might have chosen! If this past evening marked your birth, then Elizabeth waited no more than a fortnight before she gave herself to that lowly worm.' He pressed his face close to hers, his breath rancid as he spoke, 'How very fitting a punishment this will be. Vernon took my Elizabeth, and now I take their daughter.'

He tore at the front of her gown and the fine white fabric fell away to expose her breast. He set his mouth to it, desperately sucking upon the hard nub as he held her down with one hand, and with the other sought again her opening. She struggled wildly against him, desperate, pleading tearfully as that giant hand swept up her thigh to her womanhood. His finger, thick and coarse, slipped between the lips and pushed into her, once again seeking that thin barrier that declared her chasteness.

'The time has come,' he told her. He pushed up her nightgown so that it bundled around her middle, then rammed his hip against her inner thigh to force her legs apart. Imogen fought desperately to close her legs, but his body was broad, pressing against her, splaying her thighs lewdly, and struggle as she might, she could not close her body to the threat of his entrance. Her arms still fought, but he gathered her wrists together easily in one of his giant hands, and now Imogen wept loudly in terror.

'No!' she cried, her head flailing from side to side. 'No! Please don't! Don't hurt me! If you loved my mother, you would not hurt me!'

The creature brought his mouth to hers, but she refused to allow his tongue entrance until he bit her, then she gasped in pain and his long, cold tongue danced against her own, his maw moving hungrily against the softness of her lips.

'The time for speaking is over, Imogen. This night I'll claim from you all that your mother never gave me.' He took her mouth again, his tongue assaulting her just as his body would.

Imogen felt a cold, wet, hardness prod against her thigh, and she screamed her refusal into the creature's mouth. His one hand pushed at the creamy flesh of her thigh, his nails piercing her skin, and she wept in pain. Suddenly, she felt again that foreign prodding, but it was at the apex of her thighs now, brushing against the folds of her womanhood. Her body fought to recoil, but her legs, held down by his bulk, remained spread in invitation.

The creature drew back from her face to look at his manhood, while above her head his grip on her wrists tightened. At the angle at which she rested against the back of the couch, shoulders and head elevated, Imogen saw clearly that terrible club seeking her entrance. The monster drank in her expression, her pleas for mercy flaming his desire.

An inch of him pressed into her slowly, and he savored how she begged for mercy, then with one brutal stroke he slammed through the tightness of her maidenhead, her body stretched taught around the tool that sought to hilt itself in her warmth. That thick, cold, veined length plunged into Imogen, into depths that she had not known her body held, and the pain of the brutal intrusion drew from her a terrible yowl of agony and shattered innocence.

For a moment they were both still, her wailing the only sound in that forgotten place. The monster stayed unmoving, buried in her, and Imogen grew slowly accustomed to the overlarge thing impaling her body. Cassius watched her as her cries grew into a faint sobbing.

'Please,' she whispered desperately, 'you've had me. Now let me go.' And the immortal beast threw back his head and laughed at her innocence, excited to show her that there was more to mating then that initial joining of bodies. He drew back, and her body released him gratefully, a deep ache in every corner that he'd filled. She moaned in discomfort as he withdrew, and then, grinning broadly and holding her cool blue gaze with his own dark, wicked eyes, he surged back into her, and she screamed again.

Now the creature began to fuck her with hard, steady strokes that seemed to force his member ever deeper into her, and she slammed against the back of the couch with every ramming motion, small gasps escaping her. His balls slapped against her buttocks, a frenzied beating of leathery flesh against delicate skin that swiftly reddened. The monster grunted deep in his throat as he rode her, his grey rod plunging slickly into her wet passage, and Imogen turned her face aside, that she need not see the beast rutting between her thighs.

He fondled her breast in his savage grip, his palm easily covering the entirety of it. He released her flesh only for a moment, roughly turning her face towards his again and claiming her mouth before his coarse thumb once more descended to flick at her nipple. He plunged into her harder, deeper, grunting into her mouth as her warmth massaged his thick, cold length. Her own breath, denied by his hungry taking of her mouth, came in short gasps. Suddenly the creature curled his hand around her body, drawing her up to him to plunge himself into her with a final, brutal thrust.

He gave an animalistic snarl as he drew her hard against him, and within her depths Imogen felt the cold spewing oh his inhuman seed while he closed his eyes in the ecstasy of his release. Imogen sobbed softly as that essence spurted into her, her body filled with him and with the desperate need to flee this awful moment. She lay still as he released her wrists, and they fell to her sides, limp, while her cool blue eyes watched the creature pull himself out of her opening. A sob escaped her at the sight of that monstrous cock dangling between its legs, spent, its length slick with the fluids of their bodies, the mark of her lost innocence a thin smear of red along the thick veins.

The creature stood watching her, drinking in the fine features, so like her mother's. He had never tasted anything of Elizabeth but her mouth, and yet he doubted that the mother's body would have felt as good as Imogen had, spread so tightly around his rod. He spread his wings and began stretching his limbs, and he felt her gaze upon him. Her eyes rested at his groin, and he looked down at himself, noticing the red there.