The Ultimate Vampire Resource and Directory

Head forward, hands clasped between his knees, the fellow wore camouflage pants and a fisherman’s jacket, worn with a long trench-coat over both: draping down to his twenty-four eye black boots, with steel toe-caps.



He sat on one of the many sets of three moulded seats; part of the brown plastic fascia that covered the station walls.



His unkempt brown shoulder length hair was thick and needed washing.



But for him, such a thing was hardly important, as he generally wore an olive-green cap, with a waxed top.



That cap was why he was travelling. He had been at friends, the night before and after more than a few spliffs of some really good skunk, coupled with a good portion of a bottle of Tennessee’s finest had left his cap there, having rushed to get the last train home.



He was sitting on a seat on Hamilton Square station, having crossed over the platform to the New Brighton, West Kirby Line and had sat there for eleven long minutes, before the young brunette sat on the seat to his right.



He had watched her walk over, wondering whether she’d get served at a bar.

With a hint less make-up, she’d show her real age, fifteen or sixteen maybe.

But, she was dressed to go out: and there was no way she wouldn’t get served.



A brunette, with shoulder-length hair in waves; wearing a round neck, short-sleeved black tee-shirt, yellow cotton skirt, black leggings, ending at the ankles and white court shoes, with a two inch heel. Around her waist, she wore a royal blue shiny plastic two-inch wide belt.



In her left hand she held her shiny black plastic handbag, the straps hanging loosely from her left shoulders; whilst in her right hand she held a white mp3 player, both the earpieces plugged in.



She was playing Eminen, an album he’d been unfortunate enough to hear at a friends one evening, when he’d been told: “You have to hear this.”

He had: and hated it. That had been then. In the here and now: either the earpieces didn’t fit well, or she had the volume up to loud; or perhaps a combination of both, but he could hear every word.



The young man was berating Slim Shady, for ignoring him: and, was about to drive his car into the river, with his girlfriend locked in the boot.



As she sat near him and time passed, the noise soon got to him. It had been as though a trigger were pressed, somewhere ‘back there:’ and, their voices grew to the fore and swamped out all cogent thought and there was still the sound, which she would call music, pounding, pounding in his brain.



Mark Winterton wanted to scream.



But, he didn’t scream. Mark sat head forward, hands clasped between his knee, an empty seat between him and the young woman, wearing the ear-phones that allowed him to hear thing’s, things he didn’t want to hear.



Mark couldn’t help but wonder how she could listen to such utter shit; and, so loud.

And, as the track became more intense, Mark began to listen, to his resurfaced inner voices.



They were more irked by this brightly dressed irritant that he did: yet, they had the answer.



He unclasped his hands and with blank eyes Mark reached into his right coat pocket, to ensure he still carried the remedy they suggested.



As Mark found what he was seeking, the hint of a malevolent smile touched his lips.



“Now,” he wondered idly, “will she get the same train as me.”



Finally the train came in and the girl stood, Mark stood himself, realizing he was a good head taller than her, even with his shoulders stooped as he was, as he so often walked.



She got on the train before him found himself wondering, ‘Will she get the same carriage as me.’



His train, the New Brighton train and she stood before him.



The girl was a whole head shorter than him Mark realized as he stood himself, even with his shoulders stooped, as he had a wont to do, now curious as to where she would sit.



He should have foreseen what happened next: the brunette got in the first carriage and turned left, then sat where he would normally sit, in the aisle seat to the right, with her back to the driver.



Mark Winterton was incensed: but was careful.



As he took his seat, across the aisle from where she sat, Mark stole a quick glance to his right.



She was listening to 30 Cents and Mark liked him as much as he did Eminem.



He was tempted to put his hands to his ears, but that was too obvious.



So it was that he sat and seethed, as the train travelled to his destination, the voices getting louder, reminding him that there was a solution to this annoyance.



He glanced occasionally to his right, catching her fiddling with her hair every time; then rooting in her bag, to find a mirror and work at reapplying layer after layer of fresh bright red lipstick, shortly before they pulled into New Brighton station.

Marie Lane was on her way to her mates, where a Lambrini or two waited, as they readied themselves for a potentially good night out.



She checked her watch, again. She was doing alright for time.



Marie stood, very aware of the weird dude stand behind her as the train doors opened.



She hurried on and ran up the stairs, towards the lift to the ground level.



Mark took three steps at a time as he went up the stairs in her wake.



The door opened and she went in first, he followed.



Marie stood holding her bag and the mp3 player tightly to her belly. She glanced quickly to her left and was relieved to note that it seemed the strangely garbed individual was concerned with her at all, staring blankly ahead.



Even so, she was still glad when the doors opened and she was able to quickly pass through the barriers, passing her ticket in the stand next to it.



She turned right as she left the station, then turned to the pavements edge, let a few cares pass, then crossed the road.



Marie glanced at the red phone-box on the corner as she took the left heading further into the centre, noting there was more graffiti than last week.



She stopped, a moment, and used the controls on the player, to find something to distract herself from the tension she’d felt moments earlier.



‘Ridiculous,’ she’d thought, tossing her hair and continuing to walk toward her friends home, unaware that Mark was just twelve feet behind her, the solution to her noise pollution now gripped by it’s hilt.

COMMENTS

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dabbler
19:16 Mar 30 2009

Such a socially responsive character, such resolve.

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LAZARUSAD
23:15 Apr 01 2009

ah, a killer on the rampage, and a slight essence of Poe to it I think... crafty tale my friend, as meaty as they get.... Great stuff Neil;)

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Sinora
18:08 Apr 04 2009

Nice one, pleased the cap got a mention, but I'm sure it's 50 cent not 30 cents lol

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Angelus
23:51 Apr 04 2009

.. not worth 10 to me.

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POST COMMENT

Allowing the net curtain to fall into place, Milo eased the curtain down into place and stepped back into the room. He looked at his watch. ‘10:30! She’d left her son alone for nearly two hours already and she still wasn’t home!’



Milo was disgusted. He lived in a semi-detached and liked to say he was a good neighbour, ‘keeping an eye out for trouble.’ His neighbour, single-mother Ember Carr would have other ideas though.



She thought the sixty-two year old ‘an interfering old busy-body.’ And had told him so on many occasions.



Short, pudgy, with glasses forever perched on the end of a hawk-like nose, the fellow had become the bane of her life, since his early retirement six month’s earlier.

And, he drove her nuts.



Her son Jeff was already taller than her at fourteen; and at that age, she figured he didn’t need a sitter when she went out. And anyway, sitters were so damn expensive.



‘Besides,’ she justified easily, ‘I only go out two nights a week. It’s not like I’m out every damn night.’



Yet, every time she’d come home, there’d be that net curtain twitching to greet her.

And, she’d curse Milo Praed for staying up for her arrival home, once again.



“This is getting ridiculous,” she’d told herself last Sunday morning, as she stood at the open passenger door, looking in.



She’d looked deep into Brian Dixon’s eyes and sighed.



“I’d ask you in Bri, but that sad fuck next door will be watching and I can’t afford any hassle with Child Services.”



Ember had reached out to stroke his face, and then drawn her hand away quickly.

“Sorry,” she muttered, sorrowfully.



“Yeah, so am I babe,” the hunk had responded, more to himself than her.



He’d been after her for three weeks. Then, that night they’d hooked up. They’d ended up in the back of his black Audi and kissed for well over half an hour, each of them desperate for the other’s warm flesh.



Eventually she’d ended the embrace and turned to him with a pained expression on her face.

“I gotta get home,” she’d told him.



Brian had looked to her face and her smeared lipstick, more than half-hoping she’d invite him in for ‘a coffee.’ But the invite had not been forthcoming: and Brian had watched her go down her drive-way at speed.



‘That’d been the clincher,’ Ember had thought to herself, recalling Brian’s demanding lips pressed to hers, questing fingers between her thighs.

‘Shit,’ I’d wanted him,’ she’d thought as she turned the key in the lock.

Though it wasn’t so much him she wanted. She wanted ‘it.’



She hadn’t been with someone for months: and thanks to her overly inquisitive neighbour Milo Ember, she seemingly never would.



‘But, tonight’ Ember had decided, ‘his prying would end.’



She got out of the taxi at the end of the road, then walked as quietly as her high heels would allow, reaching into her small bag.



She slowly drew the small revolver from her pocket, and then took the top of the Pepsi bottle and taped the mouth of the bottle around the muzzle of the small gun.



She’d seen how to make a homemade silencer on The Shield on television.

It would work.



At the end of her drive, Ember stepped over the small wall divided the two properties.

Then, she knocked on the living-room window.



As expected, there was the net curtain switch she expected.



So Ember did as she had planned since last week.



She levelled her arm and pulled the trigger, three times in rapid succession



Glass shattered and the bullet hit her intended target, once.



Inside his front room, Milo Praed crumpled to the floor, as blood and bone erupted from back of his skull.



The gun had made more noise than expected though: Annoyed that the silencer didn’t work as well as intended, Ember snarled, as she stepped toward the hole in the window and reached into the room, to pull both the net and the curtain aside.



Ember smiled, as she saw Milo’s body sprawled there, in a pool of his own blood and quickly looked up and down the small block, to see if the sounds made had alerted anyone. But, there were not twitching curtains, to be seen.



She stepped back over the small wall, dividing the two properties: and rooted in her clutch-bag, for her key’s, thankful she didn’t have nosey neighbours.



“Well, not anymore,” she said aloud, with a grin, as she opened her front door.

COMMENTS

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LAZARUSAD
00:06 Mar 21 2009

Classic pulp fiction of the highest craft my friend...

Almost a lost art these days;)

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moonkissed
07:24 Mar 21 2009

oh my!

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vampfan2009
13:31 Mar 28 2009

Holey schnikeys!! that was intense!!

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POST COMMENT

A story based on many of the characters from the short story "An Ordinary Day" by Angelus

and continued by Lady of Dragonrose.



For Adults Only.









The club was busy as Celine walked in with her two companions. One was a tall dark young man dressed only in jeans; his well-muscled chest bare except for the black leather collar and leash he wore around his neck. The other, a rather tall Asian woman with blond hair, who all knew as Rachel, there was more to her than meets the eye. She was Celine’s assistant and had been for many years, David Stapleton, followed behind his Mistress, his leash clipped to Celine’s belt that she wore snugly around her small waist indicated him as her Slave.



All eyes wandered over the petite Mistress, with long black hair and smoky brown eyes. One could not help but watch her as she walked by. Her head held high and she walked with grace one could only admire.



She paused for a moment to see her corner empty and motioned for Rachel to take her slave to the table. Rachel walked up to Celine and slid her hand sensually down to Celine’s right hip to unclip the leash from her belt. She gently tugged on David’s leash to have him follow her. It would not be long before those wanting Celine’s company would be coming to ask permission to sit with the High Mistress and her entourage.

Celine was favored among the club members and it was not uncommon to see her holding court in her favorite corner of the club. The club owners welcomed her as if she were royalty. And in their world, she was,



David was reluctant to leave his Mistress’s side but knew well how Celine could give out punishment for the smallest infractions. He remembered well what those small hands could do to a slave that misbehaved or kept her waiting. He could still feel the paddle she had used on his bare ass repeatedly, still felt the restraints holding him tightly to her bed, helpless to do anything while his soul cried out for more. He let himself remember her small hands, caressing and teasing his body, and then denying him the release he begged for. With a smile, she had said no. For two days, she kept him in a state of unrest until she finally gave him the release that he craved; He felt himself stir with longing and hoped no one would notice.



Celine walked over to the bar and waited for the bartender to take her order. She slid into the seat and crossed her long legs, her black leather mini skirt riding up her thighs; her long black hair cascaded down to her hips in soft waves. Her purple corset was just cut low enough for those looking to wish they could see more. She turned around to face the front of the room and took in the atmosphere of the club. Tonight, demonstrations were being held and the Dom’s were showing the proper techniques for using some of the tools of their trade. She recognized two of her former students. Masters she had trained herself. She smiled as she saw Ben and Jared, showing the crowd how to use a flogger on a slave. They both had learned quickly and she was very proud of them. She watched the crowd listening intently. She noticed a few new faces she did not recognize and knew they had to be invited, as the club was not open to the public. These new faces were curious and not part of the lifestyle. “Newbie’s” she said to herself and smiled. She took a cigarette out of her case and lit it, waiting to be served.



She looked to the stage and saw Jared, her once pupil using a flogger on the slave before him, a young thing with shoulder length red hair. Her body soft and supple under the lighting, sweat had beaded up on her skin, her green eyes, closed as her hands were chained above her head and her legs spread by a spreader bar, leaving her open and bare. Her back and her butt had a few soft red welts that stood out on her pale skin. From what Celine could see, Jared was doing a nice job.



“Hit her again!” came from the back of the room. Celine saw a nicely dressed young man about 25 leaning up against a table. He was not very tall, had blond hair, and was dressed all in black. On his face was a cold smile as he looked up to where Jared was standing. Jared, unflinching went about his task to educate those listening. Ignoring the outburst.



Jared stood six one with long flowing blond hair that fell to the middle of his back; his eyes were blue with a touch of green in the iris. Celine had taught him well. She remembered well the lessons in flogging: He had been a Master now for a few years and while he and Celine got along well, both knew from experience the intense arguments between Dom’s, he saw things one way while Celine saw it in another. However, the friendship grew and he knew if he ever needed anything, he could always count on Celine’s help. His rugged handsome face in the lighting gave him a somewhat demonic air. Celine truly believed that was why his slaves came to him. The bad boy if you will, enticed many a young man or woman to his service.



The young man called out another insult. Jared stopped in mid motion, walked up to his slave and whispered in her ear. He motioned for two other slaves to unchain her and they led her away by her leash to a small room off to the side for her to rest. Jared was very considerate of his slaves, as Celine had taught him to be.



The other Master that Celine had trained was Ben; Ben stood in the back of the room and had caught Celine’s eyes. Ben watched as Celine inclined her head as if in greeting, he nodded, knowing this was a silent signal between them. He smiled and just waited. Jared then calmly walked off stage and up to the arrogant young man, motioning Ben to come to his side. Ben was shorter than Jared was, had jet-black hair and piercing green eyes, he was also very handsome. He also had learned quickly at Celine’s hands, but had come close to being a slave to Celine, yet she knew he would not be happy as a slave. He would have been at first, but Ben’s aspirations knew no bounds.



He towered over the young man, who now wore an expression of cool bravado. He was showing off and all who watched knew the fireworks were going to go off. Jared glared down at the young man and asked. “You have a problem with what I am doing? Would you like to make a suggestion?” Jared’s voice was controlled, almost calm. Celine smiled to herself, knowing when Jared got calm you would be a fool to challenge him. The young man looked up and replied that Jared hit like a girl and he would have given that slut up on stage something to think about. Jared’s eyes smoldered for a moment. His muscles aching to reach out and teach the young pup a lesson. He looked up and saw Celine sitting there. He suddenly smiled as she inclined her head once again. Jared turned back to the young man and said, “It takes a lot for a slave to get up on stage and to perform for people like you. I suggest you sit here quietly, watch and learn or you can leave.” then Jared turned, walked back up to the stage and went behind the curtain.



David stared after the young man and knew something was not right. He looked up to Rachel, holding his leash in her right hand as he sat next to her feet. “Rachel, could you explain to me why Jared just let it go? That really isn’t like Jared to let something like this go.” David found it unbelievable that Jared would just walk away. Rachel smiled down at David, pulling him tightly against her leg, her hand reached down and began to stroke his neck, she laughed gently at his response to her stroking and she replied “Oh he didn’t let him get out of anything David, just watch and learn”



The young man walked up to the bar and ordered something to drink. The bartender looking rather disgusted turned and gave him bottled water, as alcohol wasn’t served in the club. He smiled and paid for the water, turning he saw Celine sitting there. He looked at her up and down and leered at the beautiful woman sitting like a goddess upon her throne. He took in her copper skin and black hair; her clothes accenting her figure teased his senses.



He walked over and sat down without asking permission. Celine looked at the bartender and ordered her drink. He brought it to her and without so much as a glance walked away. Celine opened up her case, took out a cigarette, and put it to her red lips. A lighter held by the young man lit the end for her, thinking this somehow impressed her; she gave him a small smile and then exhaled the blue smoke from her lips. She nodded her thanks and continued to watch the activity at the front of the club. He looked at her with a wolfish grin on his face. “You come here often?” he asked. She looked at him and replied that she was a regular. Without thinking he asked her “would you like to leave here and go someplace private where we can fuck?”



Now as he uttered those words, he saw her eyes flash for a moment. He suddenly got the impression those were the wrong words to use, and he regretted using them. “I am a Mistress, I don’t just ‘fuck,’ she replied coolly. “But,” she replied, “if you ask nicely I just might,” she smiled. He had been at the club once before and saw with his own eyes just how you ask a Mistress nicely. He got off the bar stool and knelt on his knees, taking one of her small feet, kissed the tip of her black heel, Looking up at her he smiled and said “how about now Mistress? Want to go somewhere and fuck?” Celine looked down and calmly put out her cigarette, with the foot he was still holding, she jerked it back and hit him solidly in the chest, sending him sprawling backwards on to the floor. She quickly moved and placed her heel on his throat daring him to move. At that point, all movement stopped in the club, everyone’s eyes turned to watch the High Mistress herself giving the whelp a dose of punishment.

Celine looked up and saw Ben and Jared rush to where she stood over the young man.



David went to rise to go his Mistress and as Rachel jerked him back by his leash, he looked hatefully at Rachel, “Sit David” she demanded. She looked to see his hate filled eyes staring up at her. She smiled and said “just watch David, Celine is in no danger, too many around would get to him before you could.” Holding David firmly by his leash, they both continued to watch.



Celine glared down at the boy. “What is your name?” she asked. He eyes went to her foot as Celine put more pressure on his throat. “You move anymore and I will crush your windpipe and trust me, no one would ask any questions. So I’d advise you to give me your name” She spoke calmly and direct.



He looked up to Celine and realized he was in serious trouble. “Alex” he said between ragged breaths, “My name is Alex.” Ben and Jared watched Celine as she continued to hold him down with one foot. “You have insulted me Alex, and you have a choice, you can either go with these two men here and let them give you a new meaning to the word punishment or you can come with me and I will give it to you myself, either way you will submit,” Celine replied.

Alex looked to Celine and then to Jared and Ben stood by menacing. ‘How hard could it be to wear a collar and a leash for a few hours?’ He thought. ‘Might be kind of fun.’



He managed to ask her to take her foot off his throat, as she did he sat up trying to catch his breath. “Well? Which will it be Alex?” Celine asked.



Alex whispered that he would go with Celine. She smiled. She leaned over and whispered into Jared’s ear. He smiled, nodded, and motioned for Ben to follow him. Alex got up off the floor, reached for his water, and downed it. Wishing for the entire world it was Jack and Coke. He saw the bartender, this time with a smile on his face as if to say ‘boy, you are in deep trouble now.’



Jared and Ben returned with a bag, and threw it on the bar in front of Celine. She turned to Alex and said, “Strip.”

“Excuse me?” He replied not sure, if he heard her right or not.

“I said strip, you do know what that means don’t you? It means take your off your clothes, all of them,” She continued to stare at him with her smoky eyes, he realized she was serious. All eyes were now on Alex. The crowd began to take bets who would win out Alex or Celine. It must be said in Alex defense, he did have a few that bet for him. Not many that mattered.



Alex looked around somewhat embarrassed but knew there was no way out of it. He took a deep breath and began to take off his shirt, he threw it on the floor and began to unbuckle his belt and unzipped his jeans, pulling them down with his underwear to his ankles. He stepped out of them as the club members began to whistle and yell catcalls to him. Alex stood there embarrassed. His face once held that confident sneer was now replaced by fear. Celine took a step toward him and ran one red fingernail down his chest. Her touch sending shivers down his spine. He stared into those deep brown eyes as he felt her small hands touch him, she reached her hand down and started to fondle him in front of everyone, he blushed as she squeezed him, a small groan escaped his lips as laughter broke out in the crowd.



Alex lowered his eyes to the ground, not knowing what to do as she teased and fondled him. He knew there was no getting away from her and he was not going to try. He felt ashamed that so many witnessed his mistake. Celine smiled as she watched the young mans reactions show on his face. She stopped fondling him, turned back toward the bar, and reached for the bag that Jared and Ben had placed earlier. She took out of the bag a black leather collar and a leash, she turned to him, holding the collar and leash in her hand, “Kneel before me Alex,” she said softly.



David watched in fascination as Alex knelt before his Mistress, feeling a pang of jealousy in the pit of his stomach. He knew with certainty that his Mistress loved and cared for him. But to watch this was too much. He looked up to Rachel with questioning eyes. Rachel reached out and touched him gently. “Not to worry David,” she said softy. “This is nothing more than teaching the whelp a lesson,” her voice reassured him. David leaned into her legs as he watched his beloved Mistress in action.



Alex looked up to Celine as she bent over, put the black collar around his neck, and tighten the strap and his eyes became wild with fear. He started to back away from it; but Ben and Jared, standing on either side of him, kept him kneeling, their hands pushing down on his shoulders to keep him in place. He watched as she clipped a long black leather leash to the collar and then clipped the other end to her silver belt around her slim waist. She stood there, looking down on him, her eyes as cold as diamonds. He could not help but watch her. She took next a blindfold out of the bag and put it over his eyes; He could hear the laughter from the crowd and smell her perfume. What she did next, he could not see, but he could hear the sounds of metal clinking together. He heard her tell Jared to put the cuffs on him. Alex soon felt the cold metal as his hands were cuffed behind his back. He tried to speak but nothing would come out.



“Now stand up,” she told him. He stood up with help from Ben and Jared and found himself shaking uncontrollably, not knowing what she would do next. Celine reached into the bag and pulled out a riding crop and began to slide it over his body slowly, teasing every nerve in his body. He felt the electricity flowing through him. She leaned closer to him, letting him smell her scent as she spoke. “Not only did you insult me, you insulted my companion Jared here, so I think instead of Jared giving the demonstration in flogging, I will be the Mistress and you shall be the slave. How do you like that Alex?” He did not trust himself to answer but he wanted to scream ‘NO’ at the top of his lungs but could not utter a single word.



She told him to get up on all fours and crawl behind her as she walked to the stage. He felt hands grabbing him and pinching as he crawled behind her. He felt her stop and she told him to stand up. She unhooked the leash from her belt, helped him up onstage, and led him to where the young girl had been moments before. She took the handcuffs off and then chained him with his arms over his head. His legs were held apart with a bar, leaving him well exposed. He felt the chains pull him gently stretching him.



She ran her hands over his body suggestively, leaving him breathless and craving more of her touch. She then took off the blindfold for Alex to see what it was like from a slave’s point of view to be up on a stage in front of a crowd of strangers. He felt ashamed of his behavior and wished he could take it all back, but it was far too late for that. He knew he would take her punishment and he hoped it would be over quickly. She leaned in and told him, “If it gets too much you may say ‘stop Mistress,’ I may stop,” she smiled.





Celine turned and walked a few feet away from him, stood next to a table, and looked at Ben and Jared who watched their former teacher as she looked over the tools of her trade lying before her. She picked up a black leather flogger, running its strips of soft leather through her fingers, watching Alex begin to tense up not knowing what to expect. She walked over to Alex and ran the flogger across his back and letting it trail down to his butt down to his thighs; he tensed up and moaned softly.



Celine turned and walked back a few steps from him. The crowd watched as the High Mistress herself began. She had learned her craft and had learned it well. As she flicked her wrist, the strips hit Alex square on the back, as his hands clawed at his bindings and the soft leather bit into his skin leaving a long red welt. Alex cried out in shock and pain, but knew if he had used the safe words, he would not be able to live it down. Celine flicked her wrist again and landed the next welt next to the first one. She then decided to work down his body, leaving her mark on him. While the flogger did its work, Alex felt something rise in him. He began to look forward to the next lash.



Something in him craved it. As he closed his eyes, he felt the lash hit him in the small of his back. Clutching his bindings, he begged The Mistress for no more. Celine smiled triumphantly as she walked up to him. His body hung limply in its bindings. She gently pulled is head up to where she could look into his eyes. “What do you have to say now?” she asked him gently.



He looked into those smoky eyes and knew him that this was not the end of it. “No more Mistress, I beg of you. I apologize for my rudeness. Please forgive me.” He whispered softly. Alex knew he deserved it and in the mean time, something had been awakened that he never knew existed. She let his head down as he lowered his eyes to the floor. He had submitted and knew there was no turning back. The applause was loud in Celine’s ears as she smiled and walked off the stage. Alex would soon learn that Celine had given him to Jared to train. He would make a perfect slave, for either a Mistress or a Master.



As David watched, his respect and love grew for his Mistress. He felt safe knowing his place in her life was secure. Celine reached out for the leash from Rachel and she leant down to kiss Rachel softly on the lips, her eyes bright with excitement. As she pulled her slave closer to her, she petted him firmly as his body began to react to her touch.



Rachel smiled at Celine.

“Do you think Alex learned his lesson tonight Mistress?” Rachel asked.

Celine thought for a moment as she watched Ben take his turn at giving a demonstration. She laughed and said she hoped not as that would take all the fun out of it for Jared. The other members of the club started to float over to Celine’s table. The bartender leaned on the bar and watched the radiant woman, happily in her element as Grand Mistress, began to hold court on the evening’s events. He smiled. As he thought to himself, “Never an ordinary night.”



Fini









(Reprinted with permission: March 2009)

COMMENTS

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vampfan2009
13:47 Mar 28 2009

you've captured it perfectly. respect.

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POST COMMENT

Two young men sit on a single bed in a small bedroon, the tv and video system to their left dominating much of the wall, just to the left of the door.



The air hung heavy with blue-grey acrid smoke



The older of the two is pouring over the screen on the phone in his lap.



“I’ll tell you, the camera is superb,” his friend enthused; “you have a good zoom to start with. Then, when you get your result, you can like zoom in forever. It’s just fantastic.”



As he spoke, he opened up the shot of a couple, taken it the park earlier that day, the one that had started the following sequence, as he had followed them surreptitiously taking one picture after another, the trees and the green his background interest.



Then, as he continued to use the zoom function, picking up on the houses behind the trees: and, the dark-haired teen stares open-eyed at what he sees.



He had had drawn onto a window, the curtain parted. He had zoomed further, to pick up figures inside the room: two of them, seemingly embracing.



He moved onto the next picture, replicating the moves that had taken him to the rooms’ interior. This picture showed more. It showed a knife, in the man’s hand, as he stood behind a blonde.



Surprise showed on his face, something that his fair-haired friend noticed.



And, as he was about to ask, ‘what’s wrong?’ he sees his friend thumb onto the next picture in the series.



This one showed the blonde with her mouth open, as blood fountained from an opening in her neck. The second figure is still behind her, the face indistinct.



Mike had shown Tony the first picture, but it seemed there was more to it, than just the couple making out, judging from how he was checking out the rest in the set.



Finally he could take the palpable silence no longer and asked, “C’mon what is it??”



Mike turned to his friend, his face ashen.



“Look at it this way Tony,” he muttered, “I’ll give that zoom a good ten out of ten. But tomorrow, when we’re straight, I think a visit to the police is in order…”



In answer, the fair-haired youth looked at his friend, distinctly puzzled.

01:59 A.M. 2nd March 2009



By Reading this, you acknowledge that it’s intended for adults only.



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“Just one of those things”



It was. Really, that’s what it was – ‘just one of those things.’

It’d started with one of my stories being used on nifty.org

A fella sent me an email, in response to it, as it happens: a really fit fella, with washboard stomach and impressive shoulders and pecs. That’d been sent in answer to my response to his email, saying how he liked my story. A nice thing to say.

I say all that that, as he sent me a pic of himself, albeit the face and background were obscured. But, ‘oh wow, that body.’

Then he’d gone on to say how much he’d like to meet: and, ‘where did I live?’

So anyways, I’d told him that I lived in the North West of England.

The pity was, he lived in Chicago. But, I’d sent the stories he’d asked for in my return email; then as an afterthought, attached a few of my best en femme pics.

In the next email I received, he’d said he liked them; and how he’d like to slide his hand up the back of my short tartan skirt, his hands on my buttocks, encased in tights, cleaved in two by my pretty lilac panties.

Now, I know I don’t look convincing: heck, at nearly six foot, with a lean frame, I could hardly pass, but I do like to dress and I used to like to please, when I’d gone cottaging, well in my past.

I told him this and that just seemed to promote more lurid emails, as he enquired how I had liked to please, way back then.

Needless to say, my response had been through a story, in which I’d described our meeting and how I would do almost anything he might ask of me.

And, when I had written anything, that’s just what I’d meant.

Then, nearly three months after that first email, I’d got the one that had led to my journey by underground, from The Wirral to Liverpool, my outfit in a bag, which I’d slung over my right shoulder.

I’d not expected to hear that he’d arrived in England, ever. But that’s what had happened and I was stoked to hear that, totally stoked.

‘You can meet me at The Adelphi, if you want to please me,’ he’d written.

The Adelphi, Liverpool? Of course I’d be there. And, that’s what I told him.

Within minutes of getting that message, I was out of the door and walking fast, to the station: and, within less than an hour, I was knocking on his hotel room door.

And, it’d opened, by a man who body dwarfed mine, in size; and immediately I felt weak at the knees, with my sphincter muscles twitching, in anticipation.

The fella was wearing just a blue-robe and a smile that reached a mile wide, as he beckoned me into his rooms.

“C’mon in,” he told me, urging me further, with a hand on my shoulder.

I walked into the large airy room, sat my bag down by the sofa, and then stood there, looking at him, feeling quite submissive in his presence.

Yet I couldn’t figure it out: I hadn’t felt like that in years, not since I was about sixteen and an older man had met me in a cottage on the main road, taken me back to his place, where just weeks later, I lain on my belly as three men had used me.

That had been an adventure in itself.

Now here I was, a bag of lingerie and a knotted stomach of nerves.

“Do you want a drink,” he asked, standing by the small bar.

“Yes please,” I responded, in a small voice, “a whiskey, straight.”

“Why don’t you sit down, Wendy?” He suggested, as I stood there, fingers flexing, body tense, “That is the name you like, isn’t it.”

So I sat down, as he busied himself at the bar.

He’d remembered well, after all I’d only mentioned it once or twice, in an email.

Joe, that was his name, walked back over the room and gave me my drink, then stood and watched and I drank it down, all-in-one.

“Well, you needed that, didn’t you?” He said, looking down at me.

“Yeah, bit nervous,” I told Joe, staring at my hands holding the glass.

“Well, you sure about this then.. Wendy?” He enquired, with right eyebrow arched.

Just saying that name, had my heart hammering even more. ‘Oh wow.’

It was someone lighting a short taper, which ignited a small fire in growing erection: and suddenly I was harder still.

“So where can I go get changed?” I said, looking up at Joe.

Unlike me, he was a real man and I wanted to feel his need, his strength: and, desire.

“Well then, seems you are sure,” Joe from Chicago opined, with a grin.

“Yes,” I nodded. I was nervous, sure. But, I was also eager.

“Okay,” Joe said with a smile, “bathrooms that way.”

He’d indicated behind where I sat. So I stood, picked up my back and turned to smile and the big man, as he finished his own drink.

“Will you have a fresh one waiting, for me?” I said to Joe, and then lightly licked my top lip. He just grinned broadly, in return.

And, I’m pleased to say I’m almost all ready, before I go get dressed for him.

I’ve shaved, all over, using moisturiser where needed; got my lingerie on, as well as a beautifully fine pair of clack stockings; hell, I’ve even lubed up.

I ease into the little black dress, over the burgundy set; then apply a slash of red and slick back my hair, with gel. ‘Lookin good,’ I muse, smiling at my reflected self, just prior to easing into the boots.

The dress clings to my buttocks and ends at the top of my thigh, with just an inch or so of bare flesh, above my self support lace-top fine hose, which feel oh-so good on my legs, as I renter the room, where Joe waits, for me.

I step toward him, carefully: these heels are a killer. But, my they look good.

He takes me by the hand, leading me across the room. He sat on the sofa and drew me to him, so that as I sat, it was onto his lap.

My skirt had risen as I sat, his erection pressing between my buttocks.

It felt good, to feel him hard beneath me, evidence of his desire, his need: and I draped my arms around his neck, kissing the right of his neck and suckling on his earlobe.

He sighed with pleasure, which delighted me.

I ran my hands over his chest, pressing my lips to his, eager to prove myself and satisfy his needs.

“You’re hard,” I said to him, quite unnecessarily. He just grinned his reply.

He grin widened, as I slid to my knees and undid the zip to his trousers, and then eased them down to his ankles, prior to gently removing his underwear, pleased to learn that his manhood matched the rest of his impressive physique.

I couldn’t help but grin myself, as that definitely wasn’t ‘ just one of those things.’

With the tip of his right finger and the side of his right thumb against his left shoulder, the darkclad figure held the handle of the hunter’s blade with the blade outward.



The street was almost empty this time of the morning and the young woman walking home was anxious.



After the club, she had intended to go home with her friends, but both of them had found someone for the night. Now here she was, walking this quiet street home.



Tricia had been quite drunk when she had started the walk, yet she wasn’t now.

At she strode purposefully, from the edge of town, toward where home was, the young woman constantly looked left and right.



For her, every shadow contained a potential threat.



She so disliked the feel of this moment: as she so hated feeling as though she were a victim. And that would change.



That had been her thoughts, as Tricia approached the ally.



Then the blade flashed out from his shoulder, the inner-edge of the blade arcing targeting her throat.



But, when Todd Fromes expected the knife to find bone, he didn’t.

There was no-one there: nothing for the blade to find and the knife carried on, inertia taking his arm with it.



Abruptly, the blades edge found the wall at the opposite side of the alley where he stood.



His right shoulder jarred against the brick, as he looked toward the alley-mouth.



‘There was no-one there?’ It didn’t make sense.



“Where is she?” Fromes snarled, snapping his head around, as he heard a whispered sigh behind himself.



“Here…” Tricia exclaimed, triumph in her voice.



Her right hand turned incorporeal, a moment, as she thrust it forward.



“I was a victim, once…” Her hand closed round his heart and she squeezed.



“But, not gain, never again!” She exclaimed.



Fromes staggered backwards and slid down the wall slowly, eyes glazing over.



Tricia smiled, gently, feeling momentarily satisfied.

A violent life ended violently, ‘…now that was just.’

She was pleased; she had found someone, for the night.

COMMENTS

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ladyofdragonrose
15:00 Mar 02 2009

I love i!....awesomely written again my friend!

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