by T. S. Fesseln
[email protected]
© Copyright 2009 - T. S. Fesseln - Used by permission
Storycodes: Solo-m; sbf; cuffs; chain; F/m; fey-folk; fable; sex; reluct/cons; X
Ghoul-gle jpn
Closure by T. S. Fesseln Solo-m; sbf; cuffs; chain; F/m; fey-folk; fable; sex; reluct/cons; X

Disclaimer: This is a work of amatory fantasy. Any resemblance to people living or dead is purely coincidental. If you are under the age of 18, please stop reading here. If you are a bit squeamish about graphic depictions of sex and bondage, please stop reading here. The author takes no responsibility for those who wish to reenact anything written below.

Permission is granted for private use. The author wishes any agencies that wish to publish this work, to please contact him at [email protected] Or visit his weblog at . Any comments are gladly accepted and encouraged.


The heat of the late afternoon sun kept Andrew confined to the covered porch of the old adobe ranch house. As he sat in the rocking chair, he looked out over the sagebrush and cottonwoods that sheltered the house from the Colorado heat. It was strange being here, having spent several summers here recuperating from his college classes years ago. Now the place was his, his father leaving it to him in his will.

Andrew took another sip of iced tea and mentally made a list of what needed to be done in the next week or two to make the property salable. The location was great, being tucked into a corner of a wooded valley with a stream trickling away just beyond the trees. Both the house and the stable were well maintained. It was a very serene place away from the headaches and stresses of his life. A place he would love to live if he could afford it.

He took the last swallow of tea and got up to get another glass.

Inside was marginally cooler than the porch. His father, Rudy, didn’t go in for new things like air conditioners and the whole house had that hot, old wood polish smell to it. All the furniture was out of a 1940’s log cabin catalog including the steer horn recliner and studded leather sofa. Navajo rugs, deer heads and Remington prints all competed for wall space.

The kitchen was almost as bad. The refrigerator was a horrid avocado colored one from the ‘70’s. There was indoor plumbing, thank god, and the pinewood cabinetry was actually quite beautiful. The old Coca-Cola bottle opener beside the back door brought back memories of summer evenings, cricket songs and long bullshitting sessions. In fact, his dad refused to drink anything out of a can up until he died of cancer in a pale Grand Junction hospital room a few weeks ago.

Andrew shook that vision out of his head. Better to focus on what needed to be done so he could head back to Denver and his job at the firm.

His father’s bedroom was one of the last places he wanted to take stock of since his arrival a few hours ago. His father was a private man and the loss of both his mother and more recently his stepmother Eve had taken its toll. After his mother’s death, Rudy abandon his life in the Springs and bought the ranch, throwing himself into the rigors of that lifestyle. The smiling father of his boyhood was gone, replaced by a burnished leather robot of a man.

Eve changed that.

Andrew never quite figured out how they met, but her effect on him was magical. He became human again. Even after he had been diagnosed with cancer, Eve continued to weave her charms until her truck ended up in a stony ravine six months ago took her life in its fiery aftermath.

Cancer didn’t kill Rudy, Eve’s death did.

The bedroom décor was the same as the rest of the house. A massive bed framed in heavy pine logs dominated the room, festooned with an old-fashioned quilt. An armoire filled one wall and a dressing-table with a sheet-covered mirror took up most of the other. There were few signs of Eve here; an antique silver hairbrush, a bottle of perfume, a musical jewelry box. Andrew had wanted to find Eve’s relatives but his father said that there were none. It was hard to believe that a woman as young as Eve didn’t have anyone, but his father insisted that that was the case, so Andrew didn’t pursue the matter any longer.

Looking out the window towards the barn, he noticed that the shadows were getting longer and he still had to unpack the car and get settled in for the night. He debated where to sleep, the couch or the bed and the practicality of the bed won out. He tossed his suitcase on the bed and heard a dull clink.

Andrew stepped over to the bed and pushed down on the mattress several times, each time he was greeted with another set of clinks.

Peeling back the quilt and sheets, Andrew immediately saw the cause of the noise. Bolted around each of the posts was a length of heavy chain ending in a medieval-looking manacle.

Andrew stood there, staring at the iron cuffs, his mind trying to twist around the concept that they were actually there in front of him.

This was one of Andrew’s worst fears, finding out about his father’s and stepmother’s private life that he didn’t really want to know about. The fact that Eve was younger than his father and as sultry as a succubus was hard for Andrew at first, but her charms won him over. She had worked nights at a diner about 10 miles down the road, so she slept most of the day when he was staying with them, but early evenings and pre-dawn breakfasts gave her plenty of time for her to shine.

Andrew could definitely see what attracted his father to her. Eve was tall and slender, with long raven-colored curls and blue-green eyes that whispered wanton pleasures. More than once Andrew had fantasies about being between the sheets with her, but he quickly tried to clean those images from his thoughts. Eve was his father’s wife. Period.

Now this.

There was very little he could do about it tonight. In the morning he would dismantle the manacles and put them in a small box for the dumpster arriving tomorrow, one less thing to worry about for potential buyers to see.

Andrew draped the chains and cuffs over the side and got clean sheets out of the closet before getting a few more necessary things out of the car.

The night was descending gently, filling the shadows quietly and darkening everything else. The glow of the porch light seemed like a far away lighthouse as Andrew got his things out of the car. The night seemed darker out here; quieter. There were the crickets and other critters making their presence known, but there was no sound of cars or trains or the neighbors’ television set. Quickly Andrew gathered a few things, locked the car door and went inside for the night.

Stupid, Andrew said to himself. It was a beautiful autumn night and he was acting as if he was the last man on earth and there was something nestled in the darkness waiting to feed on his flesh. However, Andrew made sure to hook the screen door latch and locked the door behind him.

It was too warm to not leave the windows closed, however, so the windows stayed half open to let whatever slight breeze there was in.

The bathroom was very basic, with a pedestal sink with a cabinet still filled with half-filled bottles of dad’s prescriptions, a narrow tile shower and a toilet straight out of ‘Green Acres’. Andrew cleared a space in the cabinet for a few of his things and got ready for a shower.

The warm water was a bit rusty at first, but soon a steaming stream coughed and steadied itself. Stepping in, Andrew let it swathe him in its soaking heat. Like his dad, Andrew was lean and compact with close-cropped blonde hair and dark brown eyes. Andrew was a bit taller than his dad, but not by much. His thin frame made him a natural for track and even now, his love of running had never faded.

The shower was quick and relaxing and after slipping into his pajama bottoms, he crawled into bed, set his travel alarm clock and went to sleep.


Something made Andrew wake up. He raised himself out of the bed, listening to the quiet. The whole room was washed in the blues and blacks of the night.


The seconds ticked away to minutes as he scanned the room, debating whether to turn on the bedside lamp.

No sounds. Not even the rhythmic chirp of the crickets.

Then he heard it again; a gentle clink outside.

Andrew steeled his nerves and peeked out the bedroom window. The door to the stable was open and inside was as black as a bible. He waited and watched the shadows, listening for that noise again.


There comes a time in every horror film that the audience just wants to scream ‘Don’t Do It!’. Andrew thought that this was just one of those times though he continued to pull on his jeans and tie his shoes.

As he went through the house, he didn’t turn on any lights. He had seen a flashlight in one of the kitchen drawers. Carefully he flicked it on to see if it worked. A dim light showed in want of better batteries but it would have to do.

In the living room was an old glass rifle cabinet with his dad’s collection of guns. The door creaked as he opened it, causing Andrew to wince. Choosing a shotgun, he carefully found a box of shells and slipped several into the magazine before shutting the cabinet shut.

The cool wood and steel of the gun comforted Andrew as he stepped out the back kitchen door and towards the stable. He tried to be quiet, but every footfall on the dirt path seemed to crunch more loudly than the first. Finally he reached the open doorway and turned on the flashlight.

Nothing. Nothing stirred in the shadows and nothing skittered in the light. The beam traced its light throughout the barn and nothing seemed out of place.

Andrew blamed it all on too many chainsaw movies.

It was a beautiful night with a sliver of a moon peeking through the cottonwood leafs and Andrew took his time to enjoy the quiet rather than fearing it as he made his way back to the house. He carefully locked up again and put the gun away. He would take the shells out of it in the morning. Yawning, he headed to bed, not even bothering to peel himself out of his jeans.

Andrew was one of those guys that could lay his head down and be dead asleep within minutes. However, tonight took him a bit longer. Perhaps it was because of the strange bed or the lack of city noises. But finally he drifted off to sleep still wearing his jeans.

“Andrew,” a warm woman’s voice called to him in his dream.

He nestled himself deeper into the feather pillows.

“Andrew,” the woman spoke again, waking him up.

Andrew bolted up in bed only to see the pale form a woman standing nude at the foot of the bed. The moonlight swathed her skin in sensuous shadows as she stood there, hands behind her back. Her long, raven hair cascade over her shoulders and hid her breasts as she smiled down at him.

“Hello, Andrew,” Eve said in almost a whisper.

Andrew sat frozen, his mind unable to cope with who was standing in front of him.

“It’s me, Andrew, Eve.”

“How. . .?” Andrew trailed off, staring at the moonlight paled woman at the foot of the bed.

Slowly, Eve made her way to Andrew’s side of the bed. With every step, he heard the same clink that he had earlier, outside. When she was beside him, she knelt down until they were face to face.

“Illusions, Andrew,” she whispered, her hands still behind her back, “And legends. . .myths hinted at but never really brought out into the light. I am one of those things.”

“But. . .”

“Shhhhhh,” she said, hushing Andrew’s words, “Good things come to those who wait.”

“There are a great many things on this world of ours that are masked and hidden from people such as you. Few have seen that world and your father was one of those fortunate few. Fewer still accepted it as your father did.”

Eve stood up and sat beside Andrew. It was then he noticed that her hands were locked behind her back by a pair manacles similar to the one bolted onto the bed. Glancing down, her ankles were cuffed as well with a short chain hobbling her.

“I did not perish in the wreck. A simulacrum of me was, crafted to die so I could be here, tonight, with you.”

“Wait!” Andrew interrupted, “A Simu-what?”

“A golem, dear Andrew, something we fey folk do to maintain illusions for you.”

“Why are you chained, Eve?” Andrew asked harshly, “if you even are Eve.”

“To protect you, Andrew. That is why I am chained. The first time, your father didn’t understand either. But he soon did and so will you. Without these, I would fear for your life. I can feel your pulse, Andrew, I can feel the warmth of your blood spreading through your muscles and flesh.”

Eve leaned forward, her face like polished marble in the night. She parted her enticing lips and it was then Andrew saw the twin needle-like fangs poking out from beside her front teeth. He involuntarily backed up against the backboard, wishing he had brought the gun to bed with him.

“I am not here to harm you Andrew,” she said, seeing the blind fear in his eyes, “I could have done that while you slept. No, Andrew, I need you just as I needed your father.”

“Did you suck the blood out of him? Is that is why he dead, Eve? Cancer was just a convenient way of disguising it?” Andrew asked, his anger starting to bubble to the surface.

“No, Andrew, nothing like that. Nothing like that at all,” she said in a soft tone, trying to calm him, “I get the blood that I need from the creatures in the fields and mountains, as I have for hundreds of years now. The taste of your blood is bitter and vile to me. What I seek is warmth. . .”

Eve reached around with her cuffed hands and touched him on his hip. Her fingers and palm were as cool as leather.

“. . ., the feel of someone warm beside me; in me. I want you to love me as your father had.”

Andrew mind was roiling, cloudy with feelings of fear, anger, lust and sadness. He just sat there frozen, staring into her eyes as she nestled closer to him. The feel of her so close and the sight of her sensuous form stirred something behind his zipper. She must have felt it to as her bound hands began to touch him through his jeans.

“I need your warmth, Andrew,” she whispered, her lips nearly touching his.

Eve lifted her leg over Andrew, straddling him. Her fingers worked their magic, caressing his shaft as she slowly undid the button on his jeans. His eyes never left hers as she licked her lips.

“I want you,” she whispered.

Andrew heard the sound of his zipper being pulled down over the thudding of his heart. He wanted to say something, anything, but just like in his childhood nightmares, he couldn’t say a word. All he could do was to stare into her blue-green eyes, the rest of him somehow paralyzed.

Her gently fingers pulled his cock out and she began to stroke it and a desire began to make it ache for her. His hips began to match her touch and all other emotions began to be drowned out.

Eve’s eyes never left his as she eased herself back and positioned herself over his shaft. Slowly she pushed herself down upon him and he could feel himself inside her as she gripped him. Soon, the ancient rhythm began and their bodies moved as one moaning beast. He could feel her body warm and he longed to touch her breasts; her hips. His arms were like lead as she continued to move faster and faster.

Her eyes never left his, even when he longed to close them. He could feel the warm track of tears running down his cheeks.

“yesss,” she whispered as she ground down upon him.

Faster and faster Eve moved, not once taking her eyes off of his beautiful face. She could feel the heat engulfing her in a plume of fire. Swirling inside of her, the burning pleasure was threatening to ignite everything in an embrace of pure bliss.

Andrew felt his shaft swell as he exploded inside of her.

The molten heat filled Eve and she let it swallow her, letting out a banshee’s scream as pure pleasure shook her again and again until she finally closed her eyes, having drained both herself and the man she was riding.

Eve felt alive again, as if she was mortal and love meant something more than the sweet taste of the living.

Slowly she got off of Andrew. He lay there as limp as a wet rag. His eyes were closed and she knew that he was now in a deep sleep. She had milked some of the man’s life away, but very little. He was young. He would rebound and she hoped that he would want her now as much as she needed him.

Just like his father.

Eve quietly went to her dresser and opened the drawer, getting out the old key to unlock herself from her bindings. The ancient iron still held. She piled all the manacles and chains into the drawer for another night.

Tenderly, she gave the sleeping man a kiss on his forehead.

Now it was time to feed.

If you enjoyed this story and would like to see more of my writings, please e-mail me at [email protected] Or visit my weblog at . Any and all comments are welcomed and appreciated.

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