Dracula's Daughter - Sex Stories

Dracula's Daughter

... can't do this alone. Call David." The knocking came again, louder this time and unmistakably coming from inside the casket. Heart racing, Gwen ran back to the passage and opened her mouth to call out--and the door slammed shut behind her! The tunnel plunged into total darkness. Gwen screamed, pawing for the door, but without any light it was impossible. She cried out: "John? Can you hear me? Push the slab out again. John?" Elsewhere in the castle, David and Helen stopped what they were doing and listened. David frowned. "It sounds like screaming?" "John's ghost stories are getting to you." "No, really, I--Helen, what is it?" Helen backed away from the window. "For a second I thought I saw...something very strange. A man in the window across the way. And then I swear he crawled down the side of the wall, like a lizard, and vanished. It was the strangest thing, some kind of optical illusion, or…?” David stood up. "We should go back," he said. "I think--" Helen's face went white. She tried to scream but she couldn't. David saw her point behind him and he turned in time to see a black shape, and then... Downstairs, John dropped the candlestick, startled. The stone slab it had taken him two minutes to painstakingly push away had slid back into place in seconds, as if gliding on a freshly oiled hinge. He gaped and then, panicked, ran to the wall, putting his shoulder against it. It didn't budge. Perhaps it could only be opened from the other side? Poor Gwen was out there without ...

... any light. What would-- A thump came from behind. Not the knock again; something different. His eyes went to the floor, where a glimmer of brass caught his eye. One of the padlocks had fallen off the coffin. He picked it up and found that it was intact. In fact, it was still locked. What in the world? There was another thump. The second lock lay in the dust, and although he knew it wasn't possible, this one too had apparently fallen off without the mechanism even opening. It was stuffy in the little room, and suddenly he was sweating. When he heard the knocking inside the box again, one, two, three, he stumbled away, and then the lid flew off and there was a bang like gunpowder and he covered his eyes. A girl sat up in the coffin. She had dark hair and eyes, like the women in this country, but she was so terribly pale it made John's heart race. She was dressed all in white, though what she wore covered her inadequately, leaving her almost bare-breasted in front of him. She placed one lily-white hand on the coffin lip and pulled herself up, stepping down daintily onto the rubble-strewn floor with bare feet. John gaped. She smiled. He felt lightheaded. "At last," said the girl. "I've waited so patiently for you." "For me?" John said. "But I've never...my God, you're beautiful." Had he really just said that? He stammered. "Why were you...in there? What are you doing in this awful place?" "Don't speak too hardly of my home," the girl said. "But how wonderful to think: This will be ...