Six Degrees of Passion

by Savannah Chase

  “I see my woman has been very bad tonight, haven’t you princess?” Steffan fell into the routine.

  “No, sir.” Shawna lowered her head in reverence as the audience whistled.

  Steffan cupped her chin, lifting it gently as he rubbed his other hand down the length of her spine. “Yes, I know you were. I can tell. And tonight we need to continue your training.”

  Leaning his head down, he licked across the seam of her mouth as he growled, every action and every noise exaggerated for the audience.

  Shivering, she closed her eyes and for a few minutes they weren’t in front of a crowd of people at all, but alone in their fake apartment of the two ingénues they were pretending to be.

  She couldn’t help but think the very first time he’d seen her naked, just seconds before he took her over his knee, giving her the first spanking of her life. Her pussy aching, she could barely control her ragged breathing.

  Breaking the hold, Steffan took a step back and slipped the straps of her gown off her shoulders, his eyes never leaving hers. “Tonight you learn about the cross.” Just as choreographed, a bright blue light was showered across a steel “x” cross, centered in the middle of the stage.

  The audience gasped as the music kicked up, becoming a heady and very tribal vibe.

  Shawna moaned appropriately as her body shook and little did the customers know her body’s reaction was from her building desire for the lifestyle and for the man she truly considered her Master. “Yes, sir.”

  “Better. One day you will become the perfect submissive. One day.” Jerking off the rest of her costume, he inhaled deeply as he smiled, the look laced with a raging hunger.

  She’d never seen him look at her this way before and there was no doubt only partly was it due to his incredible acting abilities. Stealing a glanced down at his crotch, she knew he was as turned on as she was. While being completely naked in front of a group of people would normally incense her, tonight she was turned on as hell.

  Steffan growled and slipped his arm around her back, dragging her body down into a deep arc. “I will devour that sweet pussy of yours.” Engulfing her nipple, he made loud, sucking noises, thrilling the crowd.

  Every part of her on fire, she tossed her head back and moaned as he bit down on her tender flesh. Dear God, she could cum without being allowed, without being commanded. The gazed chants of the turned on crowd kept her from going into a moment of bliss but she wasn’t certain she could maintain the routine. Shawna wanted so much more.

  “Fuck her!”

  “Take her hard.”

  “That’s is, tell her who’s boss.”

  “Mmm…” Steffan tipped his head back and roared before repeating the savage move, nipping her other nipple until the bud became rock hard.

  She lay limp in his strong arms, willing the moment to continue but within seconds she was led to the cross. As her partner secured her wrists and ankles, she whimpered softly, the feel of the cold steel somehow sizzling against her heated skin. Inhaling deeply, she could see him carefully selecting a flogger and she wanted to beg him to whip her, drive her into nirvana.

  How many nights had they taken their personal relationship further and further yet this was more exciting that she had realized. This was exhilarating in a way she could barely understand.

  Crack!

  Slicing the long handled whip across the floor, he issued a series of howls for the audience as he paced back and forth, preparing the jazzed crowd for more than just a moment of entertainment.

  “Yes, my girl has been very bad and I will do everything in my power to make you the best girl you can me,” Steffan purred as he strutted back toward her, brushing the tip of the whip down her back and the inside of one leg. Moving back up the other, he exhaled slowly as he wiggled the leather strap between her ass cheeks. “Are you wet for me?”

  Struggling with her bindings for emphasis, she tossed her head back and clenched her fists. “Yes, sir!” Trickles of her juice were flowing down the inside of her legs and the teasing was doing nothing but making her horny and wet. “God, yes sir.”

  “Good.” Slipping his fingers deep into her pussy, Steffan allowed the audience to see exactly what he was doing, thrusting in and out savagely as he continued to wield the flogger with the other hand.

  Crack! Slap!

  Down against the cool wood of the stage he brought the whip, leaving every member in the crowd sitting on the edge of their seat.

  Her heart racing, the moment he took a step back she knew what was about to occur and she wanted the feel of his harsh discipline more than anything in her life. Bracing for the intense anguish, she controlled her breathing and clenched her eyes shut.

  Whoosh! Crack! Pop!

  “Aaaahhh!” Pain tore through her entire body, racking her with a series of electric jolts and from somewhere she heard the noise of the crowd but she was lost to a feeling of rapture.

  Slap! Crack!

  As Steffan continued, he grunted and did exactly as was required. “Yes, my princess.

  You are doing very well.”

  Shuddering, when she heard the sound of the whip being dropped, she opened her eyes, licking the bead of sweat rolling across her lip as she sensed him drawing near.

  Brushing his hand across her bruised ass, he sighed and then kissed the back of her neck.

  “One day you will belong to me you know.”

  Smiling, Shawna nodded as they locked eyes. “I know.” Out of the corner of her eye she could see her boss standing in the wings, the look on his face full of knowing. When he nodded, her blood curdled. Was their cover blown?

  The End

  Looks Can Be Deceiving

  By Benjamin T Russell and Savannah Chase

  Anyone watching the gorgeous woman sashaying down the street would have justifiably assumed she was heading to meet a lover. People often made that mistake, judging her by her looks and the provocative clothes that hugged her curvaceous body. They saw what she wanted them to see, a desirable and unattainable woman – out of their league.

  Charisma’s entire outfit dripped self-confidence and barely suppressed sexual energy.

  Her long auburn hair peeked just below the outer edge of the red and black parasol perched jauntily on her shoulder. She wore seamed hose and come-hither black pumps. On a cloudless summer day just before sunset, she was a sight-to-behold, coming and going. From the rear view - the provocative sway of her hips in an ultra short dress caused heads to swivel when she walked past. The sly smile on her face gave gawkers the impression she knew something they didn’t, and she did.

  Most people suspected she was a woman of the night, a courtesan to someone rich and powerful, in that regard, they wouldn’t have been too far off the mark. She hardly fit the conventional stereotype, but little did the casual observer know – she was a witch with supernatural powers beyond their mortal keen. Her lust for more power had borne fruit when her spell of reawakening had roused the Master from his centuries’ long sleep. Now she had become the blood-familiar to one of the Old ones and an aura of enchantment swirled around her. In her wake, she left a trail of wide-eyed, lust-addled admirers.

  She’d taken a risk to wake him. He could easily have killed her upon his arising that first night. Instead, he saw in her great potential and he spared her life – content to wallow between her legs until the sun rose the next morning. He was insatiable and he used her again and again.

  He drank her blood and licked all the honey from her wellspring of desire until she was a quivering lump of flesh. Only a witch with her strength and equally rampant desire could hope to match the Master’s raging lust. Excitement and wanton hunger rippled all over her body with each step that brought her closer to him. All of her witchy power coalesced and centered in the moist space between her legs.

  “Where do you think she’s going all dressed up like a French whore?” A male on-looker muttered under his breath when she strutted past his curb side bristo table.

  He was
sitting alone, so his off-hand comment was made to no one in particular. The sheer envy in his voice all too evident. The click-click of her heels tattoed the boardwalk in sync with his rapidly beating heart. Witchy pheromones wrapped mystic lips around his cock and much to his delight, he experiened his first erection in years.

  “Damn, if she fucks as good as she looks, I’d give her a week’s pay,” he said to himself in a voice louder than he intended.

  Charisma stopped just six feet past his table and she froze like a mannequin. She heard the man sputter as he almost choked on his coffee when he realized she must have heard what he’d said. For what seemed like an enternity to the hapless man, she stood there not moving.

  Despite his embarrasement, it was impossible for him not to stare in appreciation at her ripe ass and her womanly charms so tantilizingly on display.

  “Looks can be deceiving and sometimes reality is more dangerous than your wildest dreams – or nightmares,” a woman’s velvet voice whispered in his ear.

  The man dropped his cup and it shattered on the ground in a shower of shards. He jumped up and frantically looked around, searching for the source of the voice echoing in his mind.

  Nothing – no one was there. Goosebumps broke out all over his arms and the menace of her voice slithered through his mind with the death dealing threat of a poisonous viper.

  Her? When he looked turned around, Charisma was gone.

  Daylight trembled on the edge of the horizon and the encroaching night stretched wide it’s arms to embrace the city, in minutes total darkness would fall. As Charisma drew near the ancient crypt, something Old and wicked stired inside the cold, dank interior of death’s home.

  Encased in his tomb, he sensed her approach and his sluggish blood stirred in his veins.

  Soon he would feel her warmth and satiate his hunger once more. Before the sun rose again, he would take her multiple times and each time he wrung a climax from her loins, she would scream his name - Victor. Her pleasure made him stronger, he fed on her desire while he drank her blood. The full moon was less than two weeks away, then they would complete the last of the re-awakening ritual and he would roam the night again.

  The last dying rays of the sun faded and the night ruled - he was free to rise. He lifted the lid of his coffin and pushed it to the side. With the speed and grace of his immortal kind, he flowed out of his resting place to stand at the entrace. He called to Charisma with the power of his mind. Come to me my child, hurry, hurry. I hunger for your embrace, the sustenance of your blood and the nectar between your legs.

  Hearing her Master’s silken voice calling heated her flesh, made her blood rush right through her heart on waves of need. Excitement blanketed every part of her body and she picked up the pace. Her heels clicked faster and faster against the ground, each step in time with her racing heart. Only a few more steps till she’d be in his waiting arms. Until she’d offered herself to him.

  His urgent hunger to feed off her delicate body sent shivers down her skin, fanning the firey lust burried deep inside her. She’d given herself to him for the taking many nights before, but each time she returned to him it was never the same. His presence coiled itself around her, making her lose control, and crave for more.

  “Master, I’m coming,” she whispered into the night.

  My child, I’ve waited for you. My blood runs cold and only you can awaken it. Come to me. Let me take from you so you may bring me to life. I want to taste you.

  His impatient voice only spurred her own hunger. Her need. The anticipation of seeing him once more brought the never sated ache between her thighs roaring back to life. Each time she’d left him, an emptyness surrounded her. She longed to be by his side forever.

  Charisma’s eyes shot towards the stairs of the ancient crypt where a dark figure stood against the thick ajared iron gate. Raven black hair cascaded down his face as he watched her approach. His long dark leather jacket hugged his frame as he stepped out into the moonlight.

  This eternal grave held him prisoner on the grounds until she’d awakened him, returned all of his powers. For now she was his servant, his companion, his lover.

  Her breath hitched at the sight of him standing only a few steps away. His gaze held her, making her powerless against him. His magnetic hold on her was unbreakable.

  Running into his arms, her tiny figure was swallowed in his grasp. He wrapped his body around her and pulled her against his powerful frame. The Master’s cold fingers brushed her hair to the side and slid to the nape of her neck. Dark eyes seared into her soul before he hungerly captured her lips. When his tongue glided over hers, his sharp fangs nipped against her lip. The copper taste filled her mouth but didn’t last long as he lapped away at the blood that he’d brought to the surfice. Each taste intensifiying his hunger for her.

  Holding her in his arms, their bodies floated towards the safety and darkness of his resting place. Out of view of possible prying eyes. Many waited for a moment of weakness to destroy her Master before the re-awakening was complete. Many more hid in the night, ready to strike so they could take his place as the leader.

  When he tore himself away from their kiss, she slowly ran her tongue over her swollen lip. Savoring his taste on her skin.

  Her breath hurried, becoming impatient as the anticipation unraveled her, pushed her to submission in his arms.

  Master scrapped his fangs over the soft skin of her neck and inhaled deeply.

  You’re blood, so sweet, so delectable. I can hear your heart racing as you respond to my touch. I can’t wait to have my fill.

  His hands slid over her supple breasts, and heat flooded her body, like molten lava rising to the surface.Wetness pooled between her thighs and her inner walls clenched with anticipation.

  Master ran his tongue over her skin, tasting, licking, as his fangs continued to gently scrape her flesh, leaving sublte marks where blood had come to the surface.

  Charisma held back a moan when he’d tore open her satin white corset exposing her creamy breasts to the coldness of the crypt. His lips sucked in a hardened peak and he let his fangs pierce the skin ever so gently. She inhailed a deep breath as the subtle pain shot through her and intensified the need to have him. Her body craved for him to fill her, to drain her of everything and sate their hunger.

  When his mouth took in her other breast she trembled with impatient anticipation. How could she resist him? He’d trained her so well and soon he would be free from this place, to roam the night with her along side him.

  Skimming his hand down the curves of her body, he crept his fingers under the fimsy material of her layered dress. Victor’s hand impatiently tore off at her pantyhose and he cupped her sex.

  You’ve come prepared, just the way I like you.

  Charisma hissed as his cold hand brushed over her wetness teasing her, exciting her with his touch before he parted her delicate lips slipped a finger inside, and then another. Her hips bucked forward taking him deeper.

  Her body cried out to him -- to feel his touch, his undeniable power.

  Heeding her call, he slowly slid deeper inside, her wetness welcomed him as he began the slow tormenting dance of ecstasy.

  Charisma’s moans echoed around them as he pushed her body further towards the edge.

  She rocked her hips as he pumped faster and deeper with every second. She’d nearly came when he leaned in and his breath bathed her pussy before he ran his tongue over her sensitive heated clit. Baring his fangs he let them graze over her flesh as he lapped at her warm juices and his fingers continued to milk her body.

  “Master, please may I cum?”

  She’d barely been able to get the words out of her lips as every part of her slowly became wrapped in a blanket of bliss. He now held her entirely in his grasp.

  Master continued to taste her, tease her, letting the sting from his sharp fangs fuel the fire raging within her.

  Every lick, every feverish breath only heightened her pleasure.

  “Please,
I can’t take much more of this, Master.”

  Her panting echoed in the chilly darkness of the crypt as she threw her head back and her fingers grasped onto the cold concrete of the tomb behind her. She couldn’t bare the intensity.

  Charisma moaned louder and loder with each passing second. She would submit to him, to his hunger. “Victor.”

  His name rolled of her tongue as she closed her eyes and tried to hold on.

  My dear tell me, tell me what do you want.

  Even his voice caressed every part of her like an invisable hand, enveloping her in insatiable need.

  “I want to cum, Master.”

  Cum for me, my dear.