“It was something Pemberton did. I didn’t have anything to do with it.”
Charles nodded, thoughtfully. She wondered what Kent had told him. In any case, he was still around and still wanted to honor their agreement, as he put it.
Not wanting him to ask any questions, she said, “Fine. Let’s get this show on the road,” and shrugged off the blanket. She’d forgotten until the cool air caressed her body she wasn’t wearing her clothes. “Fuck!”
“Not yet, dear.”
“Where are my clothes?”
He shrugged as if it were the sort of thing that happened every day. “They’ll be returned to you when the week is over.”
“Pervert!”
He smiled. “Well, yes.”
Did he expect her to go out stark naked? It stuck in her mind that there had been a few unclothed people there when she’d come with Mario, but Charles said that was the swinger crowd. Maybe the BDSM crew was different. Or maybe not. She had a sinking feeling. “I’m not going out there naked.” When he didn’t say anything immediately, she added, “Am I?”
She didn’t know what she would do if he said yes. It terrified her, and yet, the idea of doing it at his order turned her on, too. She’d been a normal enough woman before Mario transformed her, a quiet, somewhat shy cello student a few months away from graduating from the Thornton School of Music at USC. She still had a sense of propriety. She couldn’t follow orders and go out like that, could she?
Charles face softened. “You know, Doreen, deal or no deal, it’s not really my style to hold you against your will. If you need to back out, say so, and I’ll let you go.” The corners of his eyes crinkled as he smiled at her. “Don’t expect to hear me offer again.”
His smile was beautiful. I don’t want to be let go. She couldn’t bring herself to say it, though. I want to please you. How lame does that sound?
“In any case,” Charles said after a long pause, “I’d have to know a bit more about your comfort levels to demand you walk out there naked. Your dress is right behind you.”
She looked around and spotted it. It didn’t look like much, just a bit of Lycra, a dress that would hug every curve. She lifted it and looked underneath.
“Where’s the underwear?” she asked.
“You won’t be wearing any.”
Their eyes met. How simple it would be to turn the tables. They stared at each other for a long minute, and he didn’t blink.
She turned away. “Yes, sir,” she mumbled.
He put his hand under her chin and turned her face towards him again. “What was that?”
“Yes, sir. As you wish.”
“Good girl.”
The words made her tummy flip. Am I that desperate for approval? It was true approval had been lacking since Mario had turned her into one of the walking dead. She wasn’t good enough for Mario or Pemberton. But no, that wasn’t it entirely. It was because the words came from Charles that they made her feel so good, and no other approval was necessary. As she pulled the dress on, feeling his hot eyes on her as she covered her breasts and then her pussy with the tight fabric, she realized she would walk out there stark naked if she had to in order to be his good girl.
She tried to pull the dress down over her thighs, but a few inches down she was using the stretch of the fabric, and it wouldn’t stay. She could walk decently in it, she supposed, but there was no way she could bend over, and she had a feeling she’d be spending the night tugging at her hem to keep it from sliding too far up. In front, the neckline scooped for some cleavage, the tightness of the fabric squeezing her breasts upward. She’d never worn anything quite like it. From the look in his eyes, it had created the effect he wanted.
Well, if it’s going to make him look at me with that kind of hunger, I can totally do this.
Chapter Three
From what Kent had told him, Doreen was one of three vampires who came to Dark Xanadu seeking Kent’s life, and he, Genna and Angela had been there. She had taken over his mind then, at least for while. And she had still been there when his memory got wiped by the master vampire who called himself Pemberton. So why did she say she knew nothing about it? She’s not being entirely straight with me.
Dark Xanadu was an invitation only place, and in theory, vampires needed to be invited in to use a building. Doreen had been specifically uninvited, which was why she’d need Charles to let her in. But it wasn’t hard for a vampire to enchant a member outside the club and then get an invite in after. From the sound of it, Doreen would recognize her pursuer. Charles’ plan was to mix business with pleasure and have some fun with Doreen while waiting to see if she recognized the vampire in the club. He had been intending to let her in on the idea, but he wasn’t entirely sure he believed her story anymore. He’d wait to see what Kent found out.
“You look lovely,” he told her. She was still pale, but less so with all the blood in her. There was pink in her cheeks, and in becoming more natural looking, she was even more beautiful. And her brown eyes were positively mesmerizing.
He turned his head. Maybe she couldn’t control her powers completely; the temptation to keep looking ever more deeply into her eyes was strong. He opened the door into the main dungeon area, expecting her to follow. Hearing the little sound of bare feet on the wooden floor, he was content.
He snuck a peek at her when she sidled up next to him. She was looking around, watching the scenes. Several subs were totally naked; hopefully, their nudity would ease her sense of exposure in the short dress. He had assumed a vampire would be pretty comfortable with her own body, but he realized now that assumption didn’t make a lot of sense. Doreen wasn’t necessarily like vampires from books, and not all vampires were alike anyway. Kent had made sure to point out how evil they could be, and he had staked his life last night on his conviction Doreen was better.
“Oh my God,” said Doreen.
“Hmm?” He followed her gaze to see what she was looking at. A woman was being spanked on the bench, and her skirt was flipped up to show an ass past pink and working on scarlet. The sound of each smack from her Dom could be heard clearly even from twenty feet away, as could the moans that followed.
“He’s hitting her again and again.” Her eyes narrowed. “That can’t be fun.”
“Yessssssss,” hissed the woman on the bench.
“Well, it can be.” He put his arm behind her back, resting his hand on the outside of her thigh under the hemline of her skirt. “I wouldn’t have thought being bitten would be pleasurable, either.”
Doreen stuck out her tongue. “That’s different. That’s magic.”
“Funny, that’s one phrase people use to describe BDSM. Sensual magic.”
“That’s just a phrase.”
“Maybe. I’m a skeptic, but I understand what people are trying to say with those words. And I’m not sure the pleasure of your bite on my wrist was magical. Oh, I don’t doubt you’re something supernatural, but I don’t need magic to explain the pleasure of the bite.” He bent down to nuzzle her neck and slid his hand up a few inches, feeling the under curve of her derriere.
She started to flinch away from his touch, and he could see her set her jaw as she forced herself to relax against his hand. “You’re not into receiving pain, are you?”
“Not especially, no.”
“Or inflicting it?”
“No. But I am a big fan of intensity.” He massaged her bottom slowly, watching her tug at the hem to make sure it didn’t rise in front. “Is this pleasurable?”
She looked up at him. “Yes,” she admitted. “Of course it is. But it’s embarrassing, especially in front of all these people.”
Her face blushed bright red, and he told her so.
“At least if I’m blushing people won’t think I’m a jaded slut.”
“And are you concerned about what people think, my mighty vampiress?” He kept his voice low, not wanting to be overheard. Another couple stood a few feet away. Dark Xanadu was big enough, and its client lis
t small enough, that the place never got packed too full. The sounds of people playing and talking, as well as the music, would be enough to render their conversation private. But people might approach him at any moment if there was a problem or a dispute, even though Brennan was the dungeon monitor on duty. Since he worked at Dark Xanadu, he’d never quite be one of the crowd.
She giggled. It was less harsh than the sound she’d made before. “Yes. But I suppose I shouldn’t be. The thing is, I don’t feel like I’m better than anyone. If anything, I feel like I’m worse. To be alive, well, still moving, in front of people is embarrassing. I’m so pale. I laugh funny.”
“You’re beautiful.”
She smiled. “Thank you for saying so. At least becoming a vampire did clear up my acne nicely.”
He laughed. “Dermatologists everywhere will be glad to hear of the new miracle cure. How old are you, anyway?”
“Twenty-eight.”
“And how much of that life has been spent as a vampire?”
“A few months.”
“Wow.”
“You’re not looking for me to make you into one, are you?” Her gaze narrowed at him suspiciously. “Because if you are, you should know right now I don’t even know how, and I think you have to have been a vampire for quite a while, anyway, before your blood is strong enough to do the ritual. And if a vampire doesn’t want to be hunted by other vampires, they get permission before making another.”
“Permission from Pemberton?”
“Yes.”
“Good to know. No, I don’t want to become a vampire.” He realized as he looked at her he was going to grow old and die, and she presumably wasn’t. If he could keep her safe, anyway. Now why am I worrying about that? We’ve a contract for a week, not ‘til death do us part. “Anyway. If this feels pleasurable, would it still feel pleasurable if it was a bit more intense?” He pulled on her cheek, knowing it would make the skin stretch in other places.
“Y-yes.”
“And should I stop, or keep making it more intense?”
She hesitated. “I should tell you to stop.”
He smiled. “You shouldn’t tell me anything. But tell me what would be most pleasurable.”
“More intense, please.”
His pinky finger brushed against her anus as he kneaded with more force. He could have curled his hand around to reach her sex, but he was going to put off that pleasure for now. He wanted to explore her reactions step by step. There was no guarantee she’d feel the same as any other woman. Any human woman. But all women are different, anyway.
“Yesssssss,” she said. He smiled as she echoed the woman being spanked, although her voice had none of the breathy, hissy quality.
“But if I had started doing this without building it up gradually, you probably would have felt it as a kind of pinching sensation. Unpleasant, slightly painful. And even more so if it was done against your will. As it is, it is simply intense. And while I can’t hear your breath shorten the way it might, I can see it in your eyes. You want more. A more intimate, more intense touch.”
“Not in front of everyone.” It sounded like she was begging, although what she was begging for could be up for debate. He wasn’t even sure she knew herself.
“No one is looking.” It was mostly true. There were plenty of scenes that would provide a voyeur a more fascinating picture than the one going on between him and Doreen. But he was too focused on her to worry about who might be watching.
“She is.” Doreen nodded over towards a curvy redhead who wore a tight black vinyl dress nearly as short as Doreen’s.
Genna. Of course she was curious, after the strange request for blood. Genna had been withdrawn lately, after Kent and Angela hooked up; it seemed everyone but Kent had known she had a crush on him. She’d been forcing herself to play with people, trying to move on, and Genna’s version of withdrawn would seem extroverted for a lot of people. Should he introduce her? Or would he be endangering her? He regretted already dropping her name when he told Doreen where the blood had come from.
Fortunately, Doreen had moved on. “That man, too. He’s scanning the whole place, looking for something, or someone, but he’s watching us more. There’s something odd about him, too, but I can’t put my finger on it.”
Charles chuckled. “He’s the dungeon monitor, love. And a friend of mine, so he’s probably a little curious. He, Kent, and I take turns monitoring. He’s on duty to make sure the scenes people do don’t get out of hand, and no one gets hurt. If someone were to call out the club safe word, he’d be there to enforce it.”
“Safe word? You mentioned that phrase before.”
Charles shook his head and chuckled at himself. It was so hard to think of a vampire as an innocent. And a safe word would usually be the first thing he’d discuss with a sub, but he had been thrown off stride by the way the rational world he imagined had suddenly given way one with a place for the supernatural. But an appetite for blood and an aversion to sunlight didn’t automatically make one an expert on BDSM. “It’s a special word people set up when they do BDSM play, usually a word that would be unlikely to come up spontaneously. When either partner, but usually the submissive, says the safe word, play stops. It means the sub is suffering emotional or physical distress from what’s going on. Maybe her hands are going numb from bondage, or maybe some very unpleasant memories are surging forward because of what’s going on. Either way, ropes and chains come off until everything is okay again. The club safe word is albatross. If anyone yells that out, the monitor on duty comes running to intervene. That’s part of what brings a lot of people here, actually. Some people are exhibitionists, and they love playing in front of an audience, but the monitors make this a safe—or at least safer—place to play with someone you don’t know well enough to trust completely.”
“Is that why we’re playing here?”
He smiled. “Not really. Although maybe it’s a good idea. You might need the extra security.” He didn’t move his hand from where it was. He’d found a nice curve to press it against, and Doreen needed to talk some of this through without him turning up the distraction levels.
“Or you might.”
“Maybe. But I wouldn’t risk someone else intervening for me against you. Kent says you’re pretty strong, and I’ve seen how fast you are. I can take risks with you if I like, but I won’t get other people involved if I can help it. We’re here because Pemberton is sworn not to interfere with people in the club, and Kent seems to trust him on that. Also, moving you during the day seemed like a bad idea.”
Doreen nodded. “Those two are watching, too.”
She nodded over towards the far corner. There was a couple he hadn’t seen before. The man was big, dressed in leather from neck to toe; the woman was quite small, with straight platinum hair, her style more goth than BDSM, with a ripped fishnet shirt over a black bra, and spiked collar and wrist bands. They both looked away when he turned his head towards them.
Odd. There weren’t a lot of new people; the club drew quite well, and Kent was very careful about adding people the membership list. “Vampires?” he asked.
“No. They are breathing.”
He was surprised she could tell with such certainty from all the way across the room. But he remembered she had sensed Kent and Angela coming in the night before way before he had noticed, too. He turned back towards Brennan, and waited for his gaze to come back to him and Doreen. Then he nodded over towards the corner. Brennan nodded to let him know he understood. Charles smiled. Brennan would keep an eye on the new people, although if they weren’t vampires, he was probably being paranoid.
“Some people,” he said at last, “are here because they like to watch, too. It’s a good way to learn, too.”
Doreen smirked. “And what are you teaching?”
Charles laughed. Her face was adorable when she did that. On some people a smirk would be an expression of superiority, or a way to brush off any real connection, but he got the feeling this one
indicated she was becoming comfortable enough with him that she wasn’t trying to make an impression. “Class is not in session right now. I’m feeling you up because I like the way you feel.”
He wished he knew how she felt in another sense; he felt like he was only guessing. He’d learn to read a lot into the way someone breathed, and Doreen didn’t breathe at all. At least her cheeks turned a rosy red when she was embarrassed. Is it the challenge that attracts me? Maybe. But he didn’t think that was quite it. She was easy on the eyes, but he’d been with a lot of good-looking women, and this one was decidedly special.
She was watching him as though waiting for him to make the next move. There was a bondage frame available not too far away; later in the night there would be people queuing for it. As a Dom, he always wanted his partner to have a good time, but when that good time involved ropes and chains, he enjoyed it more. He could usually tell from watching a submissive take in the scenes in the club what turned her on, but Doreen’s body gave so few clues. She was turned on. He could see that from the way her nipples made bumps in the tight dress. But was it his hand that turned her on? Or was it the dress, the people watching, the spanking in front of them, or one of the couples playing on the St. Andrew’s Crosses? The only way to find out what she wants is to ask. But the one thing no submissive wants is to think they are calling the shots.
“Have you ever been tied up before, Doreen?”
“Yes.” She frowned.
“Kinky boyfriend?”
“Evil vampire.” She paused. “Well, actually, I mean, yes to the evil, but Mario was doing what was necessary. And it wasn’t ropes, it was chains. When he first made me—well, what I am—I was so hungry it was kind of like being crazy. I don’t really remember everything that happened, just the taste of blood, and wanting to attack anyone to get it.” She looked down, not able to meet his eyes, and she even squirmed away from his hand. He let her, taking hold of her hand instead.
Chilled to the Bone Page 3