Netherworld II: Blood Potion No. 9

by Tracy St. John

  Chapter 3

  Day arrived and I was back at the King George, though in a much more private setting than the Para Central ballroom/office. Tristan and I sat on a big, ornate queen-size bed with down pillows and a comforter.

  This was somewhere on the fourth floor, one of the grander suites of the hotel. It doesn’t exist in the real world, as only the ground floor survived the fire more or less intact. But the King George, so well loved by so many back in its time, has a ghostly presence of its own.

  In its memory, I can enjoy the handcarved opulence of its suites’ furnishings, the always fresh-laundered scent of the finest linens of its 1920’s heyday, and even gourmet meals and champagne, served up via the recollections of a five-star chef and sommelier. I can enjoy all the amenities once the sole province of Rockefellers, Vanderbilts, and other hoighty-toighties. Now if they’d just add a modern spa…

  I was happily wallowing naked on the satin comforter, its diamond pattern done in rich burgundy and gold. Not so naked in his navy slacks and white button-down shirt was Tristan, done with being a vampire for the day. At least his shoes and tie were off. Now he was a ghost like me, warm and sexy and not scary. Without the hunger for blood lurking beneath his every thought, the chiseled planes of his face seemed not so sharp, his almost black eyes no longer cold. This was the man who made my heart pound with joy and not fear.

  He was gorgeousness personified, my cultured sweetie. The perfect foil to Dan’s rough, almost craggy appearance, Tristan was all gentlemanly with impeccable manners. Well, to a point. Once you dumped sex in the mix, the softer aspects went bye-bye. Tristan was the controlling Dom to my sub tendencies. The man was all power and demand, just the thing to make me melt into a warm, gooey puddle of Brandilynn.

  Unfortunately, sex was a long way from his mind right now. Even my nude cavorting all over the bed, rumpling the cover as I indulged in a sensuous feast of touch, couldn’t make him stray from important business. The revelation that one of the Beasts was a secret agent had gotten his attention fast.

  “The feds think the Beasts have something to do with the tainted blood supplies,” he mused. I could practically see the hamster in his head, making that wheel go around in a blur.

  “That’s what I got. And Bane or Levi or whatever his name is thinks either the pouches themselves or the dragon blood tainting them could be coming in through our port.”

  “Dragon’s blood.” Tristan shuddered. “Terrible stuff. It burns us alive from the inside.”

  I echoed his shudder. “For once, I’m glad you only drink from the source.”

  Tristan is important enough as Fulton Falls’ only para county commissioner to score blood groupies, young women who get off on vampires biting them and sucking their blood. And when I say ‘get off’ I mean literally. Apparently, sex with a vampire who’s drinking from a vein is mindblowing stuff. I wouldn’t know. When I was alive, I avoided vampires like the plague. There are too many people lying in their graves because a vampire lost control and drained them.

  I managed to suffer that fate myself despite my bigotry. Ironic, huh?

  The fact that Tristan has sex with his groupies is not something I like to think about much. Blood from a live donor arouses vampires to where they simply must have intimacies. Maybe because it’s still warm and there’s a pulse attached to it. Those who rely on the pouched and bottled stuff don’t go sex crazed when they drink it.

  I didn’t want to think about vampires and their feeding habits. It was definitely cooling me off to the point I’d stopped writhing all over the decadently comfortable bed. I got back to the business at hand.

  “Dragons live only in Europe and Asia,” I thought out loud.

  Tristan nodded. He rubbed my thigh with an absentminded calloused hand. The touch made me think of other places that hand would be welcome to rub. But Mr. Politician was still in professional mode. “It must be coming from Europe if it’s coming in through the eastern seaboard. I’ll make some calls tonight and get the clutches over there to start searching for the manufacturing plant the tainted blood might be coming from.”

  I slid across the bed to snuggle against him. “So it’s out of your hands. That’s going to drive my control-happy county commissioner crazy.”

  I kissed him to show how willing I was to comfort him. He rolled over on his side so our fronts met up close and personal. I was all liquid warmth down below to feel his strong, solid body against mine.

  Tristan grinned at me when the smooch ended, making my heart leap. The man was too devastatingly handsome for color TV. “Thanks, Brandilynn. You know how to make it all better.”

  “Yeah? I have a few other ideas to take your mind off your troubles.”

  “Speaking of ideas, I thought maybe you’d keep hanging around the Beasts a bit longer. Maybe you can help pinpoint the source of where that tainted blood is coming in.”

  Jeez, he was still working that angle. I must be losing my touch. But I saw how I might be able to get him to my point of view.

  I drew away and pretended to consider. “Hmm. I might need some convincing. I don’t particularly care for that bunch.”

  Tristan rolled over so that he was half lying on me. His clothes disappeared, and a nice, long, hard heat against my thigh let me know he’d come around to my way of thinking.

  His voice a seductive purr, he said, “I can make it worth your while.”

  Now we were talking. To make sure I got his point, he kissed me very thoroughly, his hands roaming all over. Tristan fondled me like he owned me, and I slipped entirely into a sub state of mind, my body leaving my possession and becoming his to do with as he pleased. In contrast to him caressing me like it was his divine right, my hands skated over his chest and arms tentatively, asking permission to worship his perfection.

  Tristan’s tongue probed my mouth, claiming all he tasted as his. The blatant exploration left me breathless and wet. His hands squeezed my breasts as if testing for ripeness, slid firmly down my ribcage to cup my hips. One hand roamed to my mound, his long fingers checking for wetness in the crevice. He found a deluge there, and he took a moment to spread the moisture over my clit. I jerked in response as a spark lit from his fingers to enflame my pussy. Then his hands moved back up my body to pinch my nipples hard, sending another lightning zing through my nether regions.

  He broke from the kiss and swallowed my gaze with his. My voice very breathy, I said, “Good argument, Sir. I’m definitely coming around to your point of view.”

  Tristan’s face lit with delight. “Then let me make a few more points while I have your attention.”

  Oh boy. This was so my kind of debate.

  Tristan’s tie was suddenly around his neck again. I couldn’t help but giggle to see him wearing nothing but the splash of silk red. He grinned like the devil himself and pulled the tie off. He held his hand out to me. “Wrists.”

  Oh goodie, goodie. Bondage always suits me just fine, thanks. I wasted no time putting my wrists in that outstretched hand.

  Tristan bound them at one end of the tie. The other end he secured at the headboard, giving me no slack to play with. With my arms stretched over my head, my breasts lifted like twin offerings. Tristan smacked my inner thighs lightly. “Spread ‘em.”

  I did so, bending my knees to tilt my pelvis up and open me wide for his pleasure. He looked me up and down, his expression stern but pleased. “Good girl,” he praised. “Stay absolutely still in that position. No coming without permission.”

  “Yes, Sir.” Tristan loved having complete control, and I loved giving it to him, even though he’d torment me mercilessly.

  He started with my breasts. He cupped them both gently, testing their weight in his long-fingered hands. Then he stroked slowly all around, raising gooseflesh on my skin with his light touch. Caressing me so sweetly, like an art aficionado appreciating a Michelangelo sculpture.

  His hands closed over the twin orbs, and he squeezed just hard enough to approach pain without quite causin
g it. Electric pleasure flashed from my breasts to my clit. I fought not to squirm in reaction. My lips parted as my remembered breath came fast.

  Tristan kept his gaze on my chest. He traced the edges of my areolas with manicured fingernails. I bit back a moan to feel how they scraped. Then his forefingers and thumbs seized the pebbled tips of my nipples. He pinched down slowly, applying more and more pressure. Heat grew to burning there, and then slivers of pain came. I hissed but offered no complaint. My breasts were his to play with, to torture if he so desired, as was all my body. He pinched harder, and I shuddered as the pain and arousal doubled.

  The pressure eased, and Tristan rubbed the swelling red nubs with gentle thumbs. He lifted his gaze to mine for just an instant to smile his approval at me. I’d done well. Then he went back to eyeing my breasts, his eyes dark, his expression hungry.

  He lowered his face to the left one, his tongue flicking out to swirl around and around like soft velvet. The gentle caress eased the still lingering ache, and I sighed with contentment. Tristan at his kindest was a tender lover. At his worst, he’s incredibly cruel. I like him both ways, especially when he mixes it up. He was about to make me a very happy girl.

  His mouth latched onto my breast, sucking it deep into his mouth, rubbing that glorious tongue all over. A moment later, he bit down, his teeth digging into the soft flesh until stabs of pain mixed headily with soft delight. My pussy gushed a warm flood. I arched a little, forgetting myself for about half a second before I remembered I was to be still. I made myself go limp with acceptance once more.

  Tristan licked and sucked and nipped the one breast while caressing and squeezing and pinching the other with his hand. Pain alternated with bliss until I didn’t know one from the other, and they combined into one incredible sensation. I felt as if I floated on the bed, acquiescing equally to torture and reward as if they were no different from each other. For me, they weren’t.

  Tristan sucked hard on the nipple he’d been mouthing so delightfully, making the tip a scarlet red point. “Clamp it,” he ordered.

  Like the clothing I affected, I conjured a tweezer clip to appear on the distended nub, the kind Tristan likes best on me. He tightened it until I whimpered, the bright pain too much to keep silent about. Then his mouth went to work on my other breast until it too was inflamed from his attentions. At his command, I provided a clamp for that one as well, which he adjusted until I squirmed.

  Red-hot and engorged, my nipples throbbed with my returned pulse. Tristan spent a long time playing with those sensitive tips, making me shudder and enjoying his mastery. His pinches and nips finally forced the words, “Please, Sir!” from my lips.

  Another tie appeared at his neck, and he used it to gag me. With my vulnerability increased to the nth degree, I was already desperate for climax. And he had only played with my breasts.

  I also couldn’t use my safeword now, the one word that would tell Tristan I couldn’t take anymore. But we’d built up such a level of trust that I didn’t fret over it. Tristan was the best Dom I’d ever known, and he’d keep an eye on me to see if I was in real distress. Trust me; nothing, and I mean nothing, gets past him.

  In fact, he was checking to make sure the gag wasn’t too tight. His finger ran between it and my jaw. “Okay?” he whispered.

  I nodded. Much more than okay. Fabulous. I so loved being helpless at his hands.

  With a cruel grin that made my stomach curl in on itself in anxious anticipation, Tristan went back to my breasts, rubbing the tender buds of my nipples with rough thumbs. My fists clenched at the warring sensations of pain and delight. The comforter beneath me was damp with my juices. I sobbed in helpless ecstasy. Talk about hurting so good.

  My wonderful brute of a master finally moved in a southerly direction. My throbbing breasts would get a break now, but I knew Tristan would be just as ruthless, if not more, with my nether parts. He sat back, kneeling between my splayed thighs to look at my smooth, hairless sex. He gazed at me for a long time, letting fearful anticipation build.

  He is not only the king of mouth, butt, and pussy screwing. No one can match Tristan for a good mind-eff either.

  “You look good and wet,” he commented, as if he discussed nothing more interesting than the weather. “Someone’s enjoying herself a lot this morning.”

  Oh yes I was. Thank you, Sir.

  “I love this pussy,” he continued. “I love shoving my tongue and cock in it.”

  What a coincidence. I love that too.

  “I love that it’s open and ready for me. I love that I can do whatever I want with it.”

  Oh, you most certainly can, Sir. So how about getting to it? I’m dying here.

  “I love playing with your clit and not letting you come.”

  Oh crap.

  Tristan went to work on me then. His thumb circled around and around that sensitive spot, swirling my juices all about the soon distended nub. He smiled a little as he did it, relaxed and enjoying me twitching as he took his sweet time driving me crazy. Once in awhile he’d rub directly on the straining tip, making me jerk in response. That bit of disobedience to his order to remain still earned me a sharp slap on the buttock he lifted from the bed. Pretty soon my butt felt like it was on fire. All I could do was lay there and take it, my arousal growing with every second.

  After enjoying my helplessness for awhile, Tristan shoved a finger into me, his other hand still engaged in clit torture. He pushed in and out hard and fast, searching for the nest of nerves inside my sleeve to torment me even worse. I sobbed a little, knowing

  when he found it, I’d really be in a world of hurt. Unfortunately for me it didn’t take him long, and then the battle was on.

  Sweet, ticklish pleasure lit within me, trying to suffuse my entire pussy with liquid fire. Tristan rubbed hard on that interior spot, making my insides balloon with pleasure. At the same time, his thumb pressed over my clit, taking me close to explosion. I fought with all I had not to come right then and there. I couldn’t disobey him. I had to be a good sub for my master.

  This is Tristan’s favorite way to assert dominance over me. He’ll take me to where I’m almost inside out with desperation to orgasm and deny me. If I cave and allow myself to realize climax, he becomes very displeased and I’m punished for it. His disappointment in my inability to serve his wishes is much worse than the discipline.

  And he makes it exceedingly difficult to obey.

  A second, then third finger joined the delicious assault on my pussy. He pounded them into me, his expression strangely cold and distant as he worked me over. I knew I was making too much noise for his liking, but it felt so good and I wanted to come so much! His gaze was on my face, watching me lose ground as pleasure swelled. His demands warred with my body’s. I fought desperately for him to win, but the steady smack-smack of his palm meeting my pussy, those fingers crooked to massage the sensitive inside spot with a strength that made my toes curl, and that heavy thumb stroking around and around my clit, sliding over it sometimes to make me arch desperately, all this was driving my eager body towards the finish line.

  “Be quiet, Brandilynn,” Tristan ordered as I groaned my desperation. His hand lifted from my clit, and he delivered a slap to the distended nub.

  The sting, hot and demanding, took me to the very edge of orgasm, and I thought I’d lose it right there. Ecstasy dove at me, tried to swallow me whole, and I almost let it. I was so fraught with the need to come. My insides gave a warning spasm, and I thought no, no, no, no.

  It was heaven and hell, all rolled into one.

  Tristan’s thumb went back to that roundabout swirl, which was nearly enough to finish the job. I hung poised on the brink for several seconds before hungry-eyed orgasm retreated a half step. It waited there, only needing the slightest moment of weakness to make me a bad sub.

  I saw the amusement in Tristan’s eyes. Oh no. He knew how close I’d come that time. He was going to push harder than ever now.

  How can I describe the
next half hour of immeasurable elation and unmitigated agony? Having to lay quiet and still and open while the man you love uses every weapon at his disposal to make you come while demanding you don’t? In between the light teasing and occasional tweaks, Tristan now spanked my clit from time to time. In addition, his fingers continued to thrust hard and fast into my pussy. I was in such anguished arousal that tears poured from my eyes. I can’t count how many times I nearly gave in and let that tidal wave of rapture take me into the ocean of bliss. Only my determination to please Tristan, to let him know how I treasured his authority over me, kept me hanging on by an ever unraveling thread.

  At last his own need, curled tight and flushed against his belly, ended that round of torment. Tristan’s fingers pulled free of my sheath. His thumb continued to draw lazy circles around my clit as he sucked the honey he’d gathered from his thick digits. He sighed with pleasure.