e.Vampire.com
By
Scarlet Black
This novel is for mature audiences only and is not intended for young readers.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locations, organizations, or person, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Copyright© by Scarlet Black 2013
ISBN: 139781482046793
First Edition: February, 2013
http://www.Scarletblack.webs.com
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in articles and reviews.
Cover Artist: Lindsay Anne Kendall Graphics
Editors: Lawrence & Debra Savignano
Author’s notes and acknowledgements
As a writer I strive to continuously push my limits and go beyond my comfort zone. I definitely did that with this book. The research was quite intense and I learned a lot.
Although, I have a degree in Psychology and attended an entire semester on “Sexual Deviance-Behaviors and Perspectives,” I felt I needed to see an actual dungeon and speak to those who engage in BDSM to bring the novel to life.
With that in mind, I wish to thank the following people for helping to accurately portray some of the scenes in the novel.
T.D. - While I can’t disclose the name of the person who showed me the inside of a real ‘public dungeon,’ a room in an exclusive, member’s only BDSM sex club in Miami, Florida, where the novel takes place, I thank you for the experience.
I was apprehensive (okay terrified) about visiting such a place, but the gracious owner put me at ease, willingly answered all my questions and explained what the various items in the dungeon were and what they were used for. They also showed me the rules they use to ensure safety during BDSM sessions.
I recorded everything I saw and felt while in the club and strived to incorporate it into the scenes at e.Vampire.com’s club and some of the other erotic scenes as well.
L.E. Savignano- An avid skydiver. Thank you for providing the procedures and terminology as well as describing in great detail what it feels like to jump out of a perfectly good plane. I accompanied the skydiver’s and pilot on the plane with a parachute on my back for safety reasons and watched the jump.
Prologue
Mission Statement for e.Vampire.com
To fulfill our member’s fantasies and give them the most exciting sexual experience they’ll ever have!
Rules and Code of Conduct pertaining to all vampires.
# 1: A Release of Liability form must be signed by mortals before engaging in any sexual activity in the dungeons. It’s the responsibility of the vampire to obtain these signatures.
# 2: Agreed upon limits between Dominant and Submissive must be in writing. If a BDSM session goes beyond what is acceptable by e.Vampire.com, a dungeon monitor reserves the right to intervene and order the participants to cease all activities and leave the room.
# 3: Never cause serious injury or death to any mortal on e.Vampire.com’s premises.
# 4: Never let a mortal know your true nature.
Exception to Rule #4: Applies to vampire’s assistants only. Each must sign a Non-disclosure form. Failure to comply is an offense punishable by death.
# 5: Do not create any new vampires.
# 6: Never kill a mortal who has ties to family and/or friends.
# 7: It’s forbidden to fall in love with a mortal.
Signed:
Dorian Taylor
Dorian Taylor
CEO, Taylor & Van Ness, Inc.
Chapter 1
Jennifer Reese stumbled up the stairs on her uncomfortable high heels to the law office where she worked. “Shit, late again,” she mumbled to herself, rushing to her desk, hoping no one would notice her. Although, she’d be hard not to notice, she looked like hell. She had no make-up on and her normally severely pulled back blonde hair was done up in a messy bun.
After yet another disastrous Saturday night date, she thought, No more on-line dating for this girl. Maybe no more dating period. I’m totally done with men. They’re all selfish, creepy and even downright perverted bastards!
She wanted to meet a man who took her breath away when she first laid eyes on him and every time thereafter, to be swept off her feet like a heroine in a romance novel. Did that kind of love even exist or was she longing for something that wasn’t real? She honestly didn’t know. What she did know was she didn’t want to have meaningless sex with some guy while bound in chains. She’d found Jack Hawkins handsome, but he wasn’t the man for her.
The other paralegals she worked with watched silently as she opened her desk drawer quietly and put her handbag away.
She knew it was only a matter of time before they wheeled their chairs over and huddled around her desk. Of course, they’d have to wait until their boss; the meanest lawyer who ever walked the earth went out on an appointment.
And she knew what they were waiting to hear. They wanted to hear about her latest date with a man from an online dating service.
Good God! She thought, Wait until I tell them about this guy.
Ah, speak of the Devil. There was her boss now, Mr. Jacob Marshall, Esquire. The guy thought he was all that and a bag of chips. He was the worst boss she’d ever had. And he was headed toward her desk.
She smelled his cologne, noted his button down Armani suit, bright red silk tie and highly polished black shoes. He dressed nicely and was well groomed. Other than that, he wasn’t much to look at. He was about six feet tall and very pale, with ruddy red cheeks and neatly cropped red hair. His beady blue eyes made her skin crawl. She wondered for the billionth time how the hell someone who lived in Miami, Florida could be as white as a freaking sheet.
“Reese,” he bellowed, sauntering toward her.
He flung a file at her desk, not bothering to pay attention to where it landed. Unfortunately, it fell at her feet and she had to pick up the scattered papers and put them back in the folder. She knew full well she was somewhat of a klutz and had a hard time putting the papers back. Not to mention, Mr. Marshall made her as nervous as a cornered mouse.
He looked around the dead silent room where the other paralegals had their backs turned to her, all clicking away at their computer keyboards. No one dared say a word. They were scared shitless of the guy. He had one mood— foul. However, he did pay very well. That was probably the only reason he still had a staff.
Jennifer looked up and caught him scrutinizing her, a lecherous gleam in his eyes. He was obviously undressing her with his eyes. Because she was in a seated position, her eyes automatically landed on his crotch. The bulge in his pants left nothing to the imagination.
My God, he has an erection! Apparently, he enjoyed seeing her squirm.
She diverted her eyes away from the ghastly sight. A malignant smirk played on his lips. He’d never attempted to touch her. Not yet anyway. If the man was as cruel a lover as he was a boss, heaven help any woman he slept with.
“Yes Sir,” she answered.
“You did this intake, so you can speak with this person.”
Looking down at the paperwork, she saw the prospect’s name and cringed inside. She’d written her up as a possible client because she’d felt sorry for her. Unfortunately, the woman was a nut-job to say the least.
As if he’d read her mind Mr. Marshall said, “This lady is a fucking fruit-cake. You know that right, Reese? Who the hell writes up a client like this? It’s ridiculous and now I have to waste my time dealing with her? No way. My time’s more valuable. You deal with it.
Call her and decline the case. I don’t care how you do it. Just do it!” He stalked off and slammed his office door behind him.
She groaned, remembering that particular lady quite well. Her co-workers recalled it too. They’d chided her for being too nice and advised against writing it up. Still, Jennifer had taken her information: Rachel Marie Stover vs. McDonalds. Now, she felt like a moron for doing so.
Ms. Stover had gone to the local McDonalds which was a few short blocks from the law office and bought a cup of coffee.
“Look at this coffee!” Ms. Stover had shouted, holding the small cup out to Jennifer. She took it in her hands, having no idea what she was supposed to see there.
“Well? Do you see that?” Ms. Stover said, as if it were plain as day.
“Um . . . no Ma’am, what am I looking for?”
“There’s blood in my coffee! You can see the red on the side of the cup!”
The other paralegals joined Jennifer and they stared down into the cup. They looked at each other in amazement. There was red on the side of the cup alright. It was the bright colored imprint of Ronald McDonald’s hair!
Miami, which she’d first thought exciting, was full of crazies, a city where the crime rate was damn near shocking and the solve rate downright dismal.
There was South Beach, with its string of outside café style restaurants and the boutiques where the cost of a tank top was off the charts expensive. The entire place was pricey as hell. Still, that was the area she’d visited and fell in love with, the one that made her decide to move here.
Now, she lived in a small one bedroom apartment in a relatively decent part of town. The building was painted a lime-green color, had a pool that never seemed to be cleaned and the tenants and traffic outside fought with one another to see which could be the loudest. She kept her door locked, dead-bolted and chained at all times.
How she wished she could’ve brought her dog, Spaz with her. She’d feel much safer with the Rottweiler in the house. No pets were allowed in any of the places she’d looked. She’d left him with a friend of her cousin Tina’s knowing full well he’d be well cared for there.
Tina had tried to talk her out of the move, arguing that she was acting out of grief and that did not make for good decisions. As if there was one. People do what they do, period.
Jennifer was from a small town in rural Maine where no-one even locked their doors. If and when a crime was committed, it was big news because it happened so infrequently, unlike Miami where crime, like the afternoon thunderstorms, was an everyday occurrence.
She’d left Cliff’s End after her father died. He’d had a massive heart attack while riding his trusty old John Deere tractor. Not only did he fall off, but the damn thing kept running right over him as he lay prone on the ground.
Although, the cause of death was ruled a heart attack, Jen couldn’t help wonder if he’d still been alive when the huge wheels of the vehicle had come in contact with his body.
Jennifer thought about it often, couldn’t help it really.
After his death, she was excruciatingly lonely on the small farm. Her mother had died a few years back of pancreatic cancer after suffering for months on end. When they’d buried her she’d weighed no more than eighty pounds. Jennifer was petrified of ever becoming that ill. The heartache of losing them; and feeling as if she spent more time visiting graves than living people, coupled with the sympathetic looks in her neighbors’ eyes was too much. Being an only child, she was totally alone. She’d packed up and left, hoping to start a new life in Miami.
Again, Mr. Marshall’s office door opened. He whisked by them, talking on his cell phone and without so much as a goodbye left the office. You could almost hear the tension in the room dissipate like the air in a balloon deflating.
“So? We’re waiting to hear about your date, Jen,” Mary Lou said.
Jennifer really didn’t want to talk about it, but there they were waiting in front of her desk with bated breath. These three women, Mary Lou, Suzanne and Julie had befriended her right away and she thanked God for them. They were they only people in Miami she really knew and liked.
Jennifer sighed and began her story. “Well, I was waiting for him at one of the outside café’s down on South Beach, thinking how sweet it was that he’d meet me there because it’s the one with the Cuban sandwiches I love. There I was with my hair done up neatly, my make-up perfect. At least it was until those damn gigantic fans kept blasting out that mist and my hair turned to shit, my mascara ran and that’s when he shows up.”
“I hate those fans,” Mary Lou said. “They do nothing to cool people off unless you’re drunk enough to need a blast of water in the face.”
“Who cares about the stupid fans? What was he like? Was he hot, like his picture on-line?” Suzanne’s eyes grew large. She was a heavy set young woman of 22, the same age as her, but she was already married with two children at home.
Jen knew Suzanne couldn’t wait to be amused by her atrocious experiences with on-line dating. Julie and Mary-Lou waited quietly for her to continue the tale.
Jennifer would surely never forget it as long as she lived. The hope she’d felt when the tall handsome young man, who was approximately six feet tall, with short blonde hair, blue eyes and a strong jaw line sat across the table from her. He was neatly dressed and appeared somewhat shy. He’d even brought her a bouquet of flowers.
“Jack Rawlings was without a doubt the best looking man I’ve ever met from any dating site. And the fact that he brought me flowers was so thoughtful.”
“Wow, sounds good to me,” Julie said.
Jen thought Julie was truly beautiful. She had hair the color of corn-husks, baby-blue eyes and a killer body. Although, not everything on Julie was God given, she’d had her breasts enlarged and her lips as well and God only knew what else. Still, Jennifer had to admit, she wished she had those lips; lips like a blow-fish, large and sensuous.
Jen gave her a sideways glance and grimaced. She wondered why her boss didn’t hit on Julie instead of her. Maybe, she thought, because I’m from no-where Maine and he thinks I’m naïve, which I kind of am, or maybe he needed to feel dominant over a woman to get it up.
After this last date, Jen knew a little more than she cared to about men who liked to play games, the kind that involved sex toys and devices she’d only seen in the movies. Sometimes ignorance truly was bliss.
She told the story anyway. Why not? She knew afterwards, she’d have to call that dreadful lady with the non-existent blood in her coffee.
She glanced at the door just to be sure their boss wasn’t lurking somewhere.
“It’s cool, Jen. I just checked his lotus calendar. He should be gone for a couple of hours,” Julie said.
They sat in a semi-circle around Jen’s desk, all ears.
“Anyway, we made small talk over Margaritas. He asked if I’d like the Maine lobster and I thought how sweet it was that he remembered where I was from. But, then again, I don’t know how much of my profile he read. Under allergies, it said I was allergic to it.”
And she was allergic to it. Of all things, mind you, to be from Maine and unable to eat lobster.
“We had Cubans. Then he shyly asked me if I’d like to go back to his place for a drink. He seemed nice enough and safe. He was a Miami cop after all.”
“So, what happened? He sounds dreamy,” Suzanne said breathlessly.
“Yeah, doesn’t he though?” Jennifer remarked sarcastically. “We went to his condo. It was right on the ocean. We stood at the railing watching the waves and checking out the stars. He put his arm loosely around my waist. He leaned in and kissed me, a sweet kiss. I’ll admit that light kiss mixed with too many margaritas made me a little . . .”
“Horny?” Julie interrupted.
“Christ, Julie.” Jennifer blushed.
“So? Did you fuck him?” Julie asked bluntly.
Jen and the others stared at her. Maybe she should be the one telling stories about her love life, thought
Jen.
Julie looked defensive. “What are you looking at? I’ve had sex with guys on a first date. There’s nothing wrong with it if it’s what you both want.”
“Are you going to let me tell this story?” Jen asked.
“You may proceed,” Julie said with a smile.
Jennifer continued. “The condo was spotless and tastefully decorated for a single guy. I sat down on the softest leather couch I’ve ever been on. He brought me a glass of white wine, but didn’t sit beside me. He took off his shirt. I was so freaking nervous and was relieved when he asked if I minded if he took a shower. I said I didn’t.
When I heard the water running, I got up to look around. I felt awkward now. I was fearful of what might come next. I wasn’t sure I wanted to . . . you know . . . do that. I walked past the closed bathroom door and peeked into his bedroom. It was neat and clean. A king sized platform type bed was in the middle, a crucifix was on the wall directly above it. But then, I turned and there it was; another door. And that one was slightly open.” She paused, feeling a chill run up her spine, remembering her first view of that room and her initial reaction which had been, “What the hell?”
“So, what was in there?” Suzanne asked.
“Handcuffs hung on a peg in the wall, but then again he’s a cop, so I didn’t think much of those. Then . . . I saw this metal bar running across the ceiling. There were two chains hanging from it. My eyes followed those chains down. I gasped and put a hand to my mouth to stifle a scream. At the end of each of them were leather wrist cuffs.
And there was this weird swing bolted to the ceiling too, it had these fuzzy pink ropes for your hands to hold onto. Two strips of leather hung down from it with stirrups at the bottom. I remembered this lady back home had a swing in her living room, but it wasn’t anything like that. This one was kind of creepy and . . . oh my God! What if he’s a pedophile? I should report him.”
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