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From: velvet@pele.ml.org
Subject: Prey (fant?, nc?, blood, goth)
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###########################################################################
Disclaimer: You know the disclaimer. If it's not legal for you, don't
read it. 
Permission to archive if you keep my name attached.
Comments to velvet@pele.ml.org.
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She radiated sex.

That was the only way he could think to put it.  Her sexuality was
like a hot, heavy wind that hit everyone near her.  Even from where he
stood a few feet away, he could taste her scent in the air...roses and
spice; a heavy, dark scent with a hint of musk about it.  

Fascinated he watched her...watched the swirl of her dark hair as it
flowed to her hips, watched the glow of her emerald eyes as they
caught the light.  Helpless to glance away, he was caught by her
smile...slight, lips closed, but her eyes said it all.  Her eyes
whispered, "I know...Look at me, I know what you see.  Look at me, and
feel my power."  

The music stopped.  With a teasing kiss and a final caress to the back
of her neck, she moved away from the girl she had been dancing with.

He was jolted by the sudden silence.  Blinking, he scanned the crowd
for the slight figure in black velvet who had so absorbed his
attention.  Almost in a panic that she might disappear from his
sight...his life, forever, he didn't stop to think how strange it was
to have this depth of feelings for a woman who's voice he'd never
heard.

"Looking for me?"  The softly spoken words came from behind him and he
turned quickly, startled, to meet laughing green eyes as she stood
smiling up at him.  "I..." he stammered, a blush heating his cheeks,
unable to say a single word.  This close to her, her presence was
overwhelming, inhuman.  He wanted to touch her, kiss her, fall to his
knees and worship her.  He wanted to run his fingers through her thick
black hair and see if it was as soft as it looked.  He wanted to
stroke his fingers across the alabaster softness of her cheek, he
wanted her to slide her body over his, to ride him as he lay beneath
her, taking her pleasure from his body as he lay beneath her in
surrender.  

Her eyes never left his...not as the blood rushed to his face, not as
he nervously wrung his hands, and not as he hardened in the tight
black jeans.  

"You *were* watching me, weren't you?" she murmured.  "I thought you
were."

Mute, and somehow ashamed, he nodded minutely and looked at the floor.

Sharp nails beneath his chin raised his face to once again meet her
gaze.  His deep brown eyes were so sad, so like a little lost puppy's,
that she laughed.  Her laughter was like liquid sex, pouring over his
body.  He shuddered and she laughed again, lower.

Her hand on the back of his neck...pressing him gently...he found
himself bending, slowly, to kneel on the floor at her feet.  The other
patrons of the club paid no mind...none even came close.  It was as if
a little circle of privacy existed just for the two of them in the
crowded club.  Nervous, though, he glanced about.  Her palm cracked
softly against his cheek...not to hurt, just to get his attention.
"Shall I leave?" she asked, "Shall I walk out of here and find other
prey?"

Her words chilled him.  Prey.  What did she mean, prey?  For a moment
he could not answer and she started to turn away.  "No!  Please don't
go!"  The words surprised him.  They were ripped from his very soul
before he even knew he was going to speak.  She turned back. "Alright
then.  Come along."  She wrapped a hand in his dark curls and started
to walk towards the stairs, pulling him along.  He made as if to 
rise and follow her, but a sharp glance was all that it took to keep him on
his knees.

As she led him on his knees through the packed club, no one
seemed to take any notice.  No one stumbled into them, no one stopped
them as they approached the stairs to the private upper levels of the
club.

The wooden stairs were a sharp pain beneath his knees as he followed
her, his eyes fascinated with the sway of her dark hair against her
buttocks.  

She led him down a short hallway and stopped before an oak
door...old, sturdy.  She knocked gently, startling him.  He was
startled again when the door quietly opened...but there was no one
behind it.  A sharp tug on his hair brought him scampering through the
door on his knees.  

The room was dimly lit by a flickering candelabra on the mantle.  The
carpet was thick and soft, but a coating of dust was everywhere.  Most
of the furniture was covered by sheets, giving the room a decidedly
unused appearance.  There was a piano in one corner, uncovered,
polished and gleaming black.  In another corner, a huge four-posted
bed, the frame carved from dark, bloodred cherry wood.  He got a
glimse of someone hidden in the shadows of the far corner beyond the
fireplace, before her nails under his chin tilted his head to look at
her.

"Tonight, you are mine...Do you understand?", and he nodded, somehow
he did understand...he knew that she would do whatever she wanted to
him and that he would not stop her.  Indeed, he knew that he could not
stop her anymore than he could stop the earth from turning or hold
back the tides.  He was hers, completely, and he didn't stop to wonder
at it...there would be no point.  It simply was.  

She studied him.  Pleased by what she saw in his expression, she
nodded.  "Good.  Now stand."

Shaking a bit, he stood before her, somewhat embarassed.  It seemed
wrong somehow, that he be taller than her, that he stand looking down
on her.  Then she sat upon the bed, reclining against the headboard
and suddenly it was alright.  

They stayed like that for a bit...him trembling before her, not daring
to glance away, not even to search for a clue about the figure in the
shadows, her eyes slowing moving up and down his body, assessingly.

"Now, strip."  

Swallowing nervously, he unbuttoned his shirt, tugging it from his
jeans and then letting it fall to the floor.  He toed his shoes off,
not wanting to look down even for a moment and removed his socks in
the same manner.  The tight black jeans were next and he was
overwhelmed by a sense of acute vunerability as he slid them down his
body.  Finally, he stood naked before her.  He was young and
beautiful, his body sleek and almost hairless.  Muscles rippled gently
beneath the golden skin and his cock stood straight out, hard and
throbbing.

For a second, he was tempted to run, suddenly seeing the absurdity of
it all...him standing here before this stranger...no, before TWO
strangers...and now he saw also that the door had been barred behind
them...the heavy oak bar surely impossible for any one man to lift!
How, he wondered, why?  His breathing quickened and he felt the
beginnings of panic.  His eyes flickered here and there, searching for
a way out.

"Erik..." she sighed softly...his name...his eyes flew back to her in
surprise and he was lost, drowning in her emerald gaze, falling to his
knees by the bed, tears running down his face as he pressed his
forehead into her outstretched palm.  "Dear Erik, of course I know you,
are you not mine?"  He nodded, shuddering. "Come here."  He crawled up
onto the bed and felt the eyes of the unseen watcher heavily upon him.
He risked a glance towards the corner and whimpered in a sudden fear.
Green eyes glowed, catlike, from the darkness.  She gathered him in
her arms and he buried his head against her chest, the spicy, sweet
smell of her rising to envelope him, making him dizzy.  Laughter now,
from the corner...deep and cold, masculine.  "Please, no," he
whispered but it was weak, muffled by her soft flesh and he didn't
mean it.  

A small hand pressed into his chest, pushing him gently onto his back.
"Close your eyes now, love," she said softly, and he did.  He could
feel her hands at his wrists, binding them one at a time with
something soft, silken, and then stretching his arms out, tying them
to the bedposts.  His body was hot, sweaty, and her hands on his
wrists were cool and dry.  Something about that frightened him and he
started to fight her.  She growled low in her throat and that
frightened him more and he began to fight in earnest.  Instantly,
strong hands held his ankles and he opened his eyes to see the man
standing at the foot of the bed, holding his feet.  The man was tall,
well over six feet, and strongly muscled in the slender way of a
dancer.  His mahogany hair was streaked lightly with gray and it's
riot of curls was secured in a long tail down his back.  Though he
fought with all of his strength, Erik could not budge the man's grip
on his ankles.  The woman moved to wrap the silk rope around Erik's
right ankle.  She was frowning, irritated.  She glanced towards his
face and her hand cracked sharply against his naked flank.  "I said,
close your eyes, Erik.  I meant it."  Moaning, he did so.  The man
released Erik's other ankle as she secured it to the bed post. 

He struggled against the ropes but they would not give.  He was
securely bound, helpless.  Fear and excitement mingled within him,
making him feel almost sick, dizzy as if he were falling.  He felt the
bed move as she sat upon it.  He felt her hard, silk-stockinged thigh
slide across his stomach as she straddled him, sitting almost upon his
chest.  He heard the soft rustle of material and opened his eyes to
see her naked above him.  He had a moment to drink in her beauty...to
memorize the soft, white perfection of her breasts, the silky looking
skin of her stomach, the black lace of her garter belt a delicious
contrast on her hips.  A large teardrop emerald hung from a silver
chain lay between her breasts.  Only a moment did he behold these
sights, then the black velvet of her dress dropped over his face,
covering his eyes.  "There, since you have such a hard time keeping
them closed," she murmered.  She leaned forward and he could feel her
breasts pressing into his chest.  Her hard nipples seemed almost like
hot coals against him and the gentle brush of her lips against the
side of his neck hotter than all the fires of hell.  He moaned and
shuddered, unable to stand the intensity of her caress in silence.
She raised up a bit and pressed her lips ever so gently against his in
the quickest of kisses, light and teasing.  He could feel his cock
quivering, responding to her as it had never responded to anyone
before.  She lay against him for a moment, planting light kisses along
his jawline and down his neck.  Her mouth lingered at the pulse point
on his throat, sucking gently.  He had no thought of fear now as he
felt her sit up and reach for something beside the bed.  All he could
feel was her body pressed against his.  Her fingers played with his
right nipple, stretching it and teasing it to hardness and then
tugging painfully before she bent and licked it gently.  He gasped at
the sensation of her mouth on his sensitive nipple, his whole body
stiffening.  Again her fingers played with him, tugging his nipple and
pulling it tight.  Pain!  Sudden excruciating pain and he screamed.
Cold metal sliding against his skin and he can feel the metal ring
lying against his chest after being ran through his newly pierced
nipple.  He whimpered as he felt her bend to lick the blood from his
chest, her small mouth lapping at it like a child with a particularly
tasty piece of candy.  She made small purring sounds as she nursed at
his bleeding nipple.  He could feel the blood flowing from the
tortured nub as her teeth grasped it and pulled.  A warm mouth on the
other nipple now, too.  "God, no...." he whispered as his body
responded to the warm, wet tongue, not caring that it was another man
giving it this pleasure, not caring what would likely follow.  He
screamed again as the pain lanced through him...again the cold metal
ring, again the nursing at his breast...at both nipples now, the two
of them sounding like contented cats as they drank his blood.
Something sharp...her nails?...trailing down his side, running down
his thigh and then back up to trace over his dick.  Now a soft hand
embraced him, moving like silk up and down his shaft, coaxing him back
into hardness.  Her mouth disappeared from his nipple as she moved
downward.  He could feel her warm breath on his dick as she gently
kissed the tip.  Now both nipples mercifully untormented...but is it
really mercy when he now feels another's breath against his thighs,
when another tongue is gently licking at his balls and his dick is
swelling to fill the warm mouth that embraces its tip?  Teeth now,
against his inner thigh and he shakes his head impotently,
pleadingly.  Sharp pain, worse than before, seeming to pierce him to
the bone and again he screams, and screams again as the hard mouth
fastens to the font of blood from his thigh.  The pain is there,
unrelenting but mixed with pleasure, a pleasure he can't fight, can't
deny as the woman mounts him, sliding herself onto his cock with a
little gasp of pleasure and falling forward onto his chest as she
rides him.  He can feel her playing with his pierced nipples, tugging
at the rings so that she can lean forward and taste the blood that
flows from the new wounds.  He can feel her breasts crushed against
them as she leans forward and closes her teeth on the vein in his neck
and the pain is doubled as she begins to feed.  Fire in his thigh,
fire in his neck.  He can feel her body shudder in orgasm as drinks
his blood and it is too much, too intense.  The world goes dark as his
orgasm explodes inside her.  

A spash of cold water wakes him.  "Wake up buddy, closing time...get a
cab, go home and sleep it off."  He sits up to find himself in a booth
downstairs at the familiar club.  Several beer bottles litter the
table in front of him.  He is dressed, his clothes wrinkled and
smelling of alcohol.  Frantically his hand reaches to his
neck...nothing.  No blood, no wound, not even a tender spot.  A dream.
A really hot dream.  God.  He stumbles to his feet and out the door.
Plenty of cabs on Bourbon St., even at four in the morning.  Home.  He
heads for the bathroom, a hot shower...such a dream...he can still
smell her perfume.  His clothes fall to the floor and he stares in the
mirror at the gleaming silver rings through his nipples.



						Velvet Wood
 


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