Vampire Master: Vampire Queen Series: Club Atlantis

by Joey W. Hill

  The climax rolled through her, and she nearly bit through her tongue, trying not to wail or whimper. She lost that battle, though the sounds she made were strangled cries, showing she was trying to honor his command, even if it was beyond human capacity to do with his clever mouth moving over her flesh.

  With that one command, he’d made her want to do the impossible, no matter what minor price it cost her. Like sanity.

  He kept eating her, even as her body shuddered into aftershocks. Her climax was a side effect of his main goal, to taste her pussy to his fill. She bit back more whimpers, kept herself as still as possible, though with every curl of his tongue, suction of his lips and scrape of his teeth, it was clear he wanted her fighting a hard, sweaty battle not to wiggle, squirm, scream.

  When he finally drew back, it wasn’t to give her a break. It was only to guide her weak legs to the floor before he banded his arm around her waist and lifted her. Her arms fell around his shoulders as he took one stride back to the table and lay on it again, swinging his legs up. His stomach muscles contracted against her core as he took her with him, making her straddle him and sit up. Her backside was on his stiff cock, the length of it nestled in the crease between her buttocks, against the fabric of the panties she still wore.

  One hand was on her hip, the other on her shoulder and throat. Those fingers on her throat flexed as he spoke, a rough command. “Hands behind your back, Ella. I don’t need your help to use your body the way I want to.”

  He shifted then, began playing with her breasts, squeezing the nipples, twisting them, reinforcing the message he’d first left on each one. They belonged to him, and no one else. When her body bucked, his response was swift, ruthless.

  “Hold still.” The warning in his tone ensured he only had to tell her once.

  Once again, he took his time with it. He was as thorough as she’d been with her massage. Her body built back up toward orgasm, little pleas caught in her throat that made him chuckle with a demon’s pleasure.

  “I want you hurting for it, baby girl. Hurting bad.”

  She was there and then some. Her whole body was convulsing and twitching, involuntary movements. Everything was focused on his hands, pinching, twisting, brushing, flicking, teasing. At one point, he lifted her under the arms like a doll, bringing her forward so he could put his mouth over one nipple, suckle her through the T-shirt. She cried out, a long, plaintive sound that she couldn’t contain. He bit her, a sharp reproof, and she choked it back. When he moved to the other nipple, the feeling just intensified, making it even more difficult to stay quiet.

  He put her down at last, standing her on her knees so he could reach between her legs. He ripped that slit in the panties wider with his fingers, so there was no barrier to his entry. Three fingers pushed inside her wetness, curled forward. He had her throat in his other hand, guiding her up and down on his hand. Slow, as he moved those fingers, rubbed them along that thick spot in her channel wall. His cock brushed the inside of her thigh, the wetness a promise held just out of reach.

  He was right. He was showing her just how pitiless he could be. She needed release, but she also wanted more. She wanted to give him everything he demanded, as long as he demanded it, no matter how much it took from her. She didn’t mind being a husk when it was all over, as long as she’d nourished him with everything inside she had to offer.

  His fingers slipped free, and he put the head of his cock there instead. A shuddering sob of relief broke from her lips. He paused, and she could feel blood pulsing in the swollen tissues of her labia, as if her cunt was trying to grip him, pull him in.

  “I’m clean, and I can’t get you pregnant,” he said. “I want you without anything between us.”

  She wondered if that harrowing beneath-the-skin scar was why he couldn’t get her pregnant, but now was not the time for such questions. “How do you know I’m clean?” she said in a hoarse voice.

  “Because you take care of others, Ella. You always put them first.”

  The sudden tender note, contrasted with the physical evidence of hard male lust, brought that ache to her throat again. It couldn’t distract her, though, not from the urgent throb between her legs as he teased her with the tip of that substantial organ. He lay back, his hands on her hips, holding her in place for long, excruciating seconds.

  She tried to stay still because she knew that was what he demanded. But oh, it was so difficult, her breath coming quick, that never-ending moan humming in her throat.

  His implacable tone took over once more. “Take care of me, Ella. I want my cock inside you, all the way to the balls. Do it slow. I don’t want you hurting yourself, and I’ll enjoy seeing and feeling you work for it. Once you’re all the way in, you can put your hands on me to brace yourself.”

  She trembled every second she worked herself over him, hips adjusting forward and back, bathing him with the honey from her wet cunt. Every stroke sent sensation rocketing through her. Her fingers twisted and curled in a knot behind her back. She took him in, inch by inch, slick and deep, breath leaving her in a gasp as he stretched her. The ridges of his cock, his girth and size, all of it sent sensation spiraling up tight through her core.

  “That’s my girl. So good for her Master.”

  Submitting fully because the male holding her was caring for her, watching over her, building her a castle made of his rules and words, his stern looks and desired approval. That was when she felt most like herself, the submissive she truly was.

  Who was he? Why did he make her feel this way? Damn it, he was different, so much so she was afraid everything she’d felt before now had been wishful thinking in comparison.

  Which should scare her to death, because knowing that down to her soul didn’t change anything in terms of their future. To Wolf, it likely didn’t feel anything like that. He was just another extraordinary Dom in a club full of them. Pleasure was a fluid thing they all enjoyed. Voyeurism, exhibitionism, an atmosphere saturated with sexual promise and acceptance? Of course it led to situations like this.

  But she wasn’t going to let this go due to fears of a day-after drop. A moment of utter care and pleasure could fuel her for weeks.

  He had lifted his upper body and now had his mouth on her throat. When she felt the scrape of his very sharp teeth, she expelled a breath, clutched him, inside and out. “Wolf…”

  He bit. His teeth were in her flesh again, deep enough to hold her. Her body responded to the dual penetration with a violent surge of arousal. There seemed something even more powerful about his bite this time, a tingling that went straight to her heart, made it beat even faster.

  She clutched his shoulders, pressed against his mouth, telling him with her whole body he could have what he wanted and needed. He took over the thrusting, working inside her as she rose and fell, her body moving with his. The table was bolted down, and she was glad of it. Her body was rippling, shuddering, rising toward that peak, and he was taking her with him, his strokes getting more powerful, on the edge of discomfort. But she wouldn’t ask him to ease up. She wanted to be battered by desire, his need. Wanted to make herself believe it was for her, and not just the drive of lust.

  “Sir…I’m close…”

  “Hold on,” he said against her throat, her pounding pulse. “Not until I say. You know that, don’t you?”

  She nodded against his shoulder. It was wet with her tears. Not bad tears. Just tears.

  “Good.” His hand was in her hair now, winding it around his knuckles. She was ready when he pulled her head back, a forceful, controlled move that curved her spine back the same way. It changed the angle and depth, her knees clamped close to his hips, her body completely open for and taken by him.

  “Now,” he said, and began to release inside her. The jet of his seed took her over, her tissues rippling over him. He’d told her to be quiet, but while her mind and soul were willing, she couldn’t stop the scream that tore from her.

  He tightened his hold, drove deeper, and she was lost,
in all the right ways. Everything was a response, nothing was a thought, and she was flying…flying…just gone.

  When she finally shuddered to a slower rhythm, it seemed the room was still echoing with the sounds of her release. He kept her moving on him, and she felt the heat of his attention on her face, her throat and breasts, dipping down to perhaps look at where they were joined, his dark hand still clasping her hip. She was beginning to believe he could see in the dark in ways no one she knew could.

  He let her tip her head forward, but he didn’t let go of her hair, holding her straight. Now it felt like he was looking at her to assess every part, from her open lips and glazed eyes, to her quivering breasts.

  He lifted the hand from her hip and toyed with a nipple, still swollen and sore, hypersensitive. He was gentle, though, his fingertips light.

  “All mine,” he said.

  He eased her off of him and sat up, dropping his feet to the floor and turning her so she was cradled between his thighs, his damp cock against her hip, her legs draped over his knee. It didn’t seem like his strength had flagged at all. The arm around her back, keeping her leaning against his shoulder, still held her just as tightly.

  He leaned over, still holding her. If he couldn’t see in the dark, he had an exceptional recall for details, because he didn’t hesitate, picking up something and settling back in one smooth motion.

  He pressed what he’d retrieved against her. As she curled her fingers into the soft, plush fur of the wolf she’d kept from their workshop, a smile crossed her face. Reassuring warmth filled the pit of her belly, where emptiness had been about to take over, anticipating the end of this time together in the dark.

  She put her head down on his shoulder, with a little sigh when his arms wound securely around her. A cue, letting her know she could treat him like a Daddy Dom for the moment.

  But a Daddy Dom had one prime directive. To care for his little girl. Unfortunately, his interpretation of that took him in a direction she would have preferred he wouldn’t go.

  “It’s time for you to tell me,” he said quietly. “Why were you crying on the loading dock, that night I came to find you?”

  She played with the wolf’s silky fur, felt her breath rebound to her against Wolf’s strong throat. “Why is it so important to you to know?”

  “Talking back?”

  She shook her head. “I’m afraid you’ll hear why, and you’ll agree with the person who made me go there that night. I’m tired of being judged. I know people who judge have no power that you don’t give them, but resisting that can drain the energy from you, you know?”

  “Do you trust me, Ella?”

  “Right now?” she chuckled weakly, no humor to it. “In this moment, in this state of mind, I’d trust you with everything I am, but I’m not stupid.”

  “No, you’re not. You’re incredibly honest.” He tightened his arms around her. “So I will give you the same. I don’t know how I’m going to react to the story, but I find you a remarkable, fascinating person. Trust me with your story, in the darkness.”

  She pressed her face to the wolf, while her body did the same, pressing against the bigger, more animate Wolf. “Did you ask Anwyn to put a wolf in among the swag to direct the scene?”

  “No. She provided the other toys, and I brought that one. I wanted to see if you’d want to choose it. I don’t believe in contriving situations, Ella. The demo works best if it’s natural, and honest. Just like our conversation here.”

  He had such a deep voice. In the dark, it was like thunder inside a mountain. She thought about lying against the mountain’s side, feeling the vibrations of the earth beneath the surface. It was stable. Safe.

  The dark would make it easier.

  She sighed. “All right. I’ll tell you.”

  Chapter Seven

  A few weeks ago…

  After putting on a hoodie over her bustier and leggings under her fairy skirt, Ella left the locker room, mulling over what to do next. She had no more sessions, and she was off shift now. She was tired, but not really ready to go home.

  She thought about reading the current book she had stashed in her locker, and at the same time considered how glad she’d be when James was back from New Orleans. He liked books too; he usually wanted to know what she was reading and why.

  Even though she’d reconciled herself to the idea that he wasn’t for her, he was always warm and kind. Her innocent flirting could get him to smile, sometimes even flush a little, which charmed her, because he was so temptingly in charge most of the time.

  Sometimes she’d curl up under the security desk near his feet, read one of her books. He might ask her about it, but often he’d simply let her be there near him, his calmness relaxing her nerves. He was quiet. She liked quiet.

  It brought back a memory. Being in the garage, wood shavings falling from a workbench, her curled beneath it, reading a book. Her father had been teasing her about sitting on the dog bed intended for their eighty-pound German shepherd mix. Robie was in the house, his black and tan body sprawled on the couch with her brother, his hopeful nose likely inches from his open bag of Cheetos.

  Her attraction to James really had been that simple, hadn’t it? Chantal had hinted at it, but with her recollection of the childhood memory, Ella accepted the full truth of it. Her feelings for James weren’t even a Daddy Dom/little girl crush thing. He reminded her of what it had felt like to have an actual father.

  That revelation came with a nice silver lining. James cared a lot about her, and would continue to encourage her to think of him that way. She didn’t get a Dom, but she did get a fatherly friend. What he’d always been.

  Somewhat bolstered, she reached the door of the admin security office and found Stan, watching the monitors. “How are things going? Do you need me to grab you a coffee from the break room?”

  Stan offered a smile, though he kept his eyes trained on his task. “Naw, I’m good. I think we’ll all be glad when James gets back, though it sounds like he’s having a really good time in New Orleans.”

  Maybe it was the sudden shift in her thinking about him, but hearing the two words, New Orleans, opened up something inside her, one of those odd feelings she got. For just a flash she saw James and a dark-haired woman. And a sliver of light finding its way through a crack in the empty sadness of James’ widowed soul.

  Good. That was good. She took a breath. Even if it still pricked her soul a bit. Maybe it showed on her face, because Stan’s expression softened as he glanced her way. “I’m sure he misses us here.”

  “Oh heavens, he’s in New Orleans. Why would he?”

  The cheerful half-scoff came from Naomi. Ella hadn’t seen her approach, but this corridor provided several staff short cuts to the deeper recesses of the club. Naomi laid a friendly hand on Ella’s shoulder.

  Naomi was another sub with no committed Dom, though she had a few regulars she enjoyed. She had a perky cheerleader personality in sub mode, but was a controlled, self-designated “real world” pragmatist when she wasn’t. Sometimes she rubbed Ella the wrong way, because she could be judgmental toward submissives like Ella, who felt that who they were inside Club Atlantis was far closer to the truth than who they were outside it.

  Most the time, Ella could let that roll off. Naomi’s attitude had more to do with the young woman’s conflicting feelings about compartmentalizing this part of her life, rather than Ella’s view of it.

  So Ella pasted a smile on her face. “Even if he misses us, he more than deserves the break,” she said in a light tone. She looked toward Stan. “Let us know if we can help with anything, Stan. You have big shoes to fill.”

  “Not me,” Stan chuckled. “Gideon’s the one standing in for James while he’s gone. Since James eats, sleeps and breathes this place, you might see if Gideon needs anything. Oh, but I do have one thing he gave me…”

  Stan reached beneath the desk and produced a clipboard, looking through the top two pages. “I went over your summary for the pupp
y play thing. We might need to hit on a few details a couple days ahead of time. People in groups sometimes forget how to behave themselves.”

  “I’ll touch base with you about it, no worries.”

  “What would we do without Ella around to shake things up?” Naomi observed. “James isn’t the only one who lives here 24/7, even when he’s not here. Not me, though. And in a couple months, not at all.”

  Her tone changed to one of barely suppressed excitement and she waved a flashing hand at Ella. “I’m getting married.”

  “Whoa, wow. Oh, Naomi that’s wonderful.” In a heartbeat, any irritation Ella felt toward her disappeared. She saw the woman’s genuine happiness. With a beaming smile, Ella enveloped Naomi in a big hug.

  Stan gave them both an indulgent look, obviously already the recipient of Naomi’s big news. Since another security staff member was approaching the office to talk to Stan, Ella drew Naomi off into the hallway to gaze at the ring. “This is the man you’ve been seeing for the past few months, right?”

  Naomi nodded. “Frank. He operates a chain of furniture stores, and his passion is jogging. He runs marathons.”

  “Good stamina then.” Ella grinned. “I’m so happy for you. Is he a member at another club, or have you introduced him to your sub side at home?”

  Naomi shook her head. “God, no. He’s vanilla. And going to stay that way forever.”

  Ella’s brow creased. “He doesn’t know about you being a submissive?”

  “Doesn’t need to,” Naomi said, withdrawing her hand. “Our engagement became official a few weeks ago. I’m letting Anwyn know I’ll help out until the end of the month, on the non-session side of things, but then I’ll be gone. I work in sales when I’m not doing this, and I’m good at it. I’ll be an asset to him, because he runs six furniture stores in this state alone. We’re going to do a cruise to Europe for our honeymoon.”