— У меня правильнописание хромает. Оно хорошее, но почему-то хромает...(с) Винни-Пух.
читать дальшеChapter 34- Under A Starry Sky by nicola71
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As always, very special thanks to Rekastormborn and Submissively Asher's for all of their help and support as my betas! They are truly gifted writers and I am lucky to have them! Also, thank you to all of my readers...you totally make my day!
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London and Penny emerged from the heavy steel door on the rooftop of the circus. The late spring night was beautiful, if a bit chilly. The thermometer read just over 57 degrees and there was a very light breeze.
London gave a nod to the security guard who was covering that section, and squeezed Penny’s hand slightly as he led her past. The guard was a trusted Rodere, but one who’s detail was guarding the perimeter of the circus rather than the inside. London knew only enough about him that his name was Calo, and that Claudia had deemed him a “stand up guy”, which was high praise from her.
Penelope breathed in deeply. She had not been outside since the opening night of Veritas, and so even the scents of the urbanized atmosphere of St. Louis was as a freshly mowed meadow to her senses. The circus was pleasant enough, but she had recently found herself thinking about her island home, in particular. The little metaphysical trip she had been on with Helene a few nights ago probably was to blame. She had awoken to find herself in the grassy meadows of her childhood, drenched in sunshine and smelling of the herbs and flowers that she and Julianna had picked there as girls. That sylvan serenity seemed hard to find here, with the exception of the cottage Asher had shared with her.
But tonight, London was giving her something she needed, and she loved him for it.
“It’s this way,” he led her through a jungle of metal and cables that seemed ready to devour the surroundings. They walked into the center of the rooftop where there was what looked like a small building.
“Are we going inside?” Penelope wondered if her brief sojourn in the open was over.
“It’s more than it appears,” London smiled and opened the door.
What was revealed was beyond her wildest expectations.
The room was indeed that, a room. But a room with no roof, completely open to the night sky while at once shielding the occupants from the majority of the noise of the outside world.
It was as if Scheherazade herself had sprung to life from the pages of the Arabian Nights and transformed what started life as a storage dump for broken HVAC equipment into a romantic Persian oasis.
Dozens of sheer swathes of gossamer chiffon fabric in golds, reds, greens, and ambers hung from wrought iron hooks that had been pounded into the cement of the walls. The floor had been covered in several antique Persian carpets with piles of cushions and pillows making it seem to be one giant luxurious couch. The open roof was swathed in delicate netting, embroidered with tiny crystals that turned the artificial urban sky into one full of sparkling stars.
In the center was a low table set with a golden place setting. An elaborately jeweled goblet finished the look, which was enhanced by two large oil lamps that provided soft light, and small pots of subtle, yet intoxicating fragrance.
Exotic flower petals were strewn around on the table, floor and cushions, and the soft sounds of Middle Eastern instruments filled the air. Penelope completely forgot that not 100 feet away were men with guns patrolling the rooftop. They may well have been 100 miles away for all she cared.
Penelope looked up at London, still clasping his hand.
“You did this all, for me?”
“Jason helped quite a bit, but I designed it. I wanted to show you a bit of the romance of what I lived...that it was not all violence and death. There was great beauty in that land where I became a man. Almost as much as is here before me at this moment.” He graced her cheek with his fingers until he held her chin and her gaze.
London realized that by modern standards he was being a little sappy, but both he and Penelope had not had nearly enough sappiness in their lives, and he thought they deserved it.
They looked at each other for a long moment before London led her once again, this time to the large cushions. He motioned for her to sit, which she did in her own very ladylike way reminiscent of Anderson’s mermaid, while he set the basket on the table and carefully unpacked it.
She saw her favorite Italian Chianti, as well as fresh pineapple, raspberries, pomegranates, and figs.
“You brought me dinner, too?”
“Of course,” he laughed, “all cold dishes, I hope you don’t mind. It was.... practical.” London turned and knelt in front of her, carefully untying her tennis shoes and setting them aside. He took a small container and opened the lid.
“Shrimp!” Penelope loved seafood, and it was not something Asher particular enjoyed.
London carefully dipped each piece in a spicy sauce and teased her lips before allowing her to take a bite.
“Mmmmm...” She licked her lips, and then so did London.
“Do you like?” He had Jason pick up different foods from all sorts of markets that afternoon after he delivered Penny to the gym.
London was eager to have his night with her begin and to have her naked and writhing underneath his touch, but he would not forget his vow to Asher. She was going to be well-fed and strong, just in case. It was not a coincidence that his dinner choices for her were all very high in protein.
“Oh yes! What a wonderful surprise!”
The shrimp was followed by some cold, rare fillet Mignon on toast, with a delicate horseradish sauce. The food seemed to be temporizing her sexual desire for the moment. She had learned from listening to Anita that sometimes one hunger could be replaced with another. The problem was that if Asher was drawing as much off of her as he was pouring into her, it would probably be moot, no matter how much food she consumed. But for now, at least, she was in control.
Sips of wine, for both of them, and soft kisses followed each course. London shared a rare story from his human life about the first time he and his brothers had got into their father’s stock of port, which was being saved for some important visiting baron.
“My eldest brother took the whipping for that escapade,” he mused, his eyes far away. “But he made certain that the rest of us paid in other ways!”
They both laughed as Penny ate, reclined on the comfy cushions. When she could eat no more, Penelope reached to set the empty goblet back on the table and looked down at her jeans, suddenly feeling a bit under-dressed for her rich surroundings.
“I feel I should have dressed the part of the harem girl,” she teased.
He didn’t answer right away, but instead leaned in and kissed her, softly at first, then with a growing fever as if he was also feeling the onslaught of sexual need that was pressing so hard against all of her control. He felt her magic start to seep into him. Cool and comforting, but tonight tinged with a strange heat he had not felt before. Although he was a little wary of the role that magic was playing in their relationship, it still felt very good and it was extremely hard for him when he pulled back and finally spoke.
“It didn’t matter what you wore. I wasn’t planning on you being in it for long.” He suddenly moved and pulled her t-shirts over her head, throwing them aside, then deftly removed her jeans, leaving her in her bra and panties.
“These are beautiful,” he said fingering the pale pink satin strap of her bra. He ran his finger underneath caressing her skin and making her shudder with excitement, “but not for tonight.”
When she was naked he commanded, “Lay back, against the pillows. I want to look at you.”
Penelope stretched her nude body out on the shimmering fabrics of the cushions beneath her. There was heat coming from somewhere because she was not in the least cold anymore, but whether that heat was emanating from somewhere in the room or from within her own body, was a mystery.
She leaned up on one elbow and with her free hand traced a line down the contours of her body, around the curve of her breast, across her hip finally resting in the nest of brown curls between her legs. Penelope had been highly aroused for the last hour or so anyway, so watching London’s eyes follow her hand was near to unbearable. Despite all of her careful control, she was shaking softly as if it were their first time all over again.
London, however, was very experienced in such situations. Besides, there was something he wanted to do before the sexual heat that was licking at their heels consumed them both.
“I have something for you.” His pale fingers disappeared into the right front pocket of his pants and emerged with a small black velvet bag.
Penelope leaned forward, “something for me?”
Despite her past, she had somehow retained a girlishness when it came to presents and pretty things. It pleased Asher to no end how accepting she was of his presents, and since he and London were cut from similar courtier’s cloth, the knight also smiled widely at her excitement.
“Ah,” he teased and hid the bag behind his back, “but do you deserve it?”
Penelope pouted playfully, “I think you should give it to me on credit...for future performance.”
They both laughed.
“I think you are spending too much time with our whimsical wolf, Penny, my love.” London opened his palm to reveal the bag once again. “Open it.”
Penelope took the bag and carefully undid the strings holding it shut. She reached inside and drew out a sparkling gold chain. But the chain was not the most spectacular part of the present. Suspended from it hung what, on closer inspection, was a family crest.
London closed his eyes and recited, “A scarlet shield, an armored helm, the ragged lion in gold. Numquam Obliviscar.”
“Never forget,” she whispered.
“It was, it is, my family’s motto, and crest. The irony is not lost on me that scarlet...your color, was always my color.”
A large ruby represented the scarlet shield of the crest; the helm at the top was solid gold, the Latin inscribed in gold in a semi circle surrounding the ragged lion, which was comprised of several small diamonds.
“It’s beautiful,” Penelope was struck by the craftsmanship, so delicate and yet it had a heft that she suddenly wanted to feel against her skin.
“May I?” London held out his hands.
“Yes!” Penelope handed him the necklace so he could put it on her.
“It can be worn as a pendant, or a broach, if you wish.”
He reached around her neck to fasten the clasp, brushing her cheek with his lips as he leaned back to admire her.
The crest nestled between her breasts and seemed to radiate against her creamy skin.
“Oh London, you’ve once again given me a piece of you and I am without words strong enough to convey what I’m feeling. Many years ago you first graced me with the gift of your intellect and insight. Then, after we met in the flesh, you gave me a song you wrote out of love just for me, the music of which still echoes in my memory as the most beautiful tune I have ever heard. When next you gifted me your heart and your body, I never expected or needed anything more. Now you’ve given me your past.” Penelope had studied enough medieval literature to know the significance of his gift.
“You are my lady and I want you to wear my colors.” He paused and looked down, “Of course, I don’t expect you to wear it always.” London was still very conscious of his place in Penelope’s life.
“I will wear it, proudly!” She threw herself into his arms and kissed him. She knew what he was thinking, and for now wanted it out of his mind. She hoped her body could bring him back to the moment.
London gently pushed her down until she was once again leaning against the cushions.
“Are you ready for desert?”
Penelope smiled and looked away coquettishly. She was ready, yes she was.
London, still fully clothed, picked up the bowl of fruit and knelt before her, sitting on his heels. He lifted a piece of pineapple to her lips, squeezing it gently so the juice of it ran down his fingers and her lips.
“Open.”
She opened her mouth and let him place the piece on her tongue. The pieces were small enough that she could suck on them while London’s fingers still held them. When he let go, she chewed and swallowed slowly, savoring the taste of each of the fleshy fruits as he gave them to her.
Between bites, London lapped up the juices that were on her lips and chin.
“Careful, my love,” Penelope cautioned. She knew he could manage small sips of wine and spirits, and the occasional liquids, but she didn’t want him to become sick.
“I know my limits, darling,” he smirked, “do you?”
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Everything was beautiful, in his opinion.
Asher surveyed his handiwork.
The five submissives, three of who were women, hung by leather cuffs from chains that were secured to the rafters. Each was attired differently, according to the directions Asher had relayed through Gerard. The host himself was at Asher’s feet, following him on hands and knees as he walked around checking everyone’s bindings.
He chose to invite more women than men simply because Narcissus preferred to play with men and because she fancied herself as the only “woman” for Asher, she would be ripped by jealousy at his attention to other women. Since he felt no need to placate her in any way tonight, each woman was more beautiful than the next, and nothing like the Oba. When she saw who they were, Asher was certain that the significance would not be lost.
Narcissus finally appeared, emerging from the double doors that led to the private playrooms, and her own personal quarters. She was dressed in her usual fare, stiletto heels, and black fishnet stockings with the garters peeking out of the hem of a black lace slip. She had elbow length black satin gloves on, and several strands of pearls of various lengths around her neck. Her dark hair was closely cropped, and her make-up expertly done. Her lips shiny and red seemed begging for a kiss. She had chosen her ensemble with as much care and purpose as Asher.
She had been informed that Asher was having a private party, and that she was the guest of honor, of course. The Oba was powerful, so if she was feeling any fear, she was shielding it very well. Many who knew her may perceive her as mad, but she was not stupid, except, it seemed, where Asher was concerned. And now she knew she had made a grave mistake in how she played her last hand.
Asher stood with the grace and silence of a vampire his age. He knew the effect his scars had on the Oba, which was the reason they were so visible tonight. He could smell her arousal from across the room, and although he was deft at hiding his true feelings, it sickened him. Any desire for this creature he had once secreted away in his inner sanctum was gone. All that remained was the desire to teach her to never again forget who her master was.
Narcissus had a few choices about to how to handle the scene that lay before her as she walked slowly towards the stage with her heels clicking rhythmically on the floor. Her two hyena guards stuck close behind her, but not even they would dare to defy Asher. As per vampire custom, the hyenas belonged to him as much as they belonged to her.
It was a custom that Jean-Claude, perhaps out of respect and love for Richard, had not often adhered to, but that was ever present in a master vampire and animal-to-call relationship. He did not make a habit of lording his mastery over the wolves. But that was Jean-Claude. Asher didn’t have the same modern sensibilities, nor the affection for the Oba that Jean-Claude held for the Ulfric. Narcissus had lived her life in fear, for the most part, so it was something she understood. Asher planned to use that fear, at least in the beginning, to strengthen his control. It would be only after her total submission that they could perhaps actually talk, and move forward. At least that was his grand hope.
As she moved towards the stage, the lights shut off behind her leaving her wake in darkness. Castor and Pollux were standing by the short stair that led to where Asher was standing with Ixion and Ares, while Faust and Meng Die stood on either side of the suspended subs. Gerard was still at Asher’s feet, but now with the added benefit of a leash attached to his leather collar. The vampire held it taught so that Gerard’s head was at a strained angle. The look of euphoria on his face was undeniable.
“It would seem,” Narcissus said casually as she approached the stage, “that you have taken over my club this evening. I certainly hope you have good reason for hindering our pack from making their living.”
Asher didn’t move, “Is it all about money for you, Narcissus? Whatever happened to love?” His voice was threatening and filled with hundreds of years of practiced sarcasm.
Narcissus stopped in her tracks, about ten feet from the stairs. The entire room was dark now, save the pinpoints of light that came down from the ceiling. The effect was supposed to mirror the night of the new moon, when one could see a million stars. The lone spotlight shone down on Asher, making him appear ethereal and terrifying at once.
“You dare to speak to me of love?” Her disturbingly hysterical laughter echoed throughout the club. “I don’t think that love has anything to do with this. If you loved me, you would never have taken that girl into your bed, or whatever it is you have that passes for a heart.” The rage that Narcissus had been holding on to exploded throughout the room, searing the hyenas.
Even Castor and Pollux felt the smack of her rage, but they had given their word to Asher that no matter what, they would not do anything they were not commanded by him to do. So they stood stoically, watching the scene. Whatever was going on beneath the surface with the brothers was completely hidden. They were entirely in control, something that Asher took note of and filed in his brain for later.
Asher spoke with the coldness that had protected him for almost three hundred years.
“I never loved you.”
The words did their damage, because at that moment, Narcissus’ face showed that she understood that those words were the truest she had ever heard.
“But I loved you,” she pouted, and either she was an accomplished actor, or she truly did believe her words because her face fell with the kind of disappointment only one who has been ravaged by unrequited love could understand.
“You are obsessed with me, that is not love. I know love once again, and although you will not believe me, I do hope that one day you will learn the difference.” He held out Gerard’s leash to Meng Die, who took it with a strong jerk that elicited a cry of intense pleasure from her captive, and then he held his hand out to the Oba.
“Will you accept the punishment I have deemed appropriate for you?”
Narcissus looked at the stage. The empty glass box’s door was open, and she knew the chair inside was meant for her. Whatever Asher had planned would end one of two ways, and although Narcissus was usually confident that the ultimate outcome of her and Asher’s relationship would be mutual pleasure, this time she wasn’t so sure this wouldn’t end in her total submission.
Without looking at anyone but her master, she ascended the stage, and took his hand.
Back to index
Chapter 35- Control by nicola71
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As always, special thanks to Rekastormborn and Subbie for their invaluable advice! A SMEX warning for this chapter!
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He explored her each time as if it were the first time, and tonight was no different as they lay touching and kissing in the soft golden glow of scented oils under the starry sky he had made for her.
London had Penelope cuddled against his still clothed body, nibbling softly at her lips as his hands clasped her possessively. He drew out their pleasure with each caress and he felt her earnest yearning for him through every feathery kiss. His own fiery desires danced throughout his body, pushing his excitement higher and higher because at this moment Penelope appeared to be utterly defenseless, deliciously naked, and entirely his.
When he pulled away from her mouth a small trickle of blood ran down her chin. He licked it carefully, savoring yet another part of her that for this window in time belonged solely to him.
“Your clothes are still on,” she panted in a whisper. Her body was on fire in a million different ways. It was at once both invigorating and infuriating.
“I know.”
He smiled with a lasciviousness that she was used to seeing from Asher, not her knight. The thrill of that look lanced her with such lust that she could barely speak. But her lust had not overrode her wit, as yet, and she tried her best to seem in control when in fact she was more out of control than she had ever felt.
“You are exhibiting an enormous amount of control tonight.” Her words came laboured, partly from unquenched thirst for him and partly because most of London’s weight was pressing her into the silk cushions.
“I know.”
He started kissing her again, moving from lips to cheeks to chin, then lower to her neck, shoulders and chest. All the while his hands kept a firm grip on her. She wasn’t moving anywhere his tender yet firm embrace wouldn’t allow.
Without words he flipped her over onto her stomach, pinning her down with his body. He gently moved her hair out of the way, and lavished the back of her neck and shoulders with small flicks of his tongue and kisses that devoured with increasing intensity. Her moans told him he had made the right decision.
Content that she would allow him to do as he wished, he raised himself off of her body and straddled her thighs. He was running his fingers lightly over her backside and along the lines of her torso when he felt her shudder and quake. Her body was so warm tonight, and the cool smoothness of his own skin drank in that warmth. London fought an internal battle with his baser needs. Part of him wanted to shed his clothes, spread her open and sink inside her warmth; surround himself in it, drown in it. Instead, he leaned over and kissed a line from the base of her neck, down her spine, to her plump rear.
Penelope only managed a whimper when his kisses moved from her ass down the backs of her thighs and legs. When she felt his body next, his shirt was gone and once again he pressed his full weight on top of her. She could feel the roughness of his scars against her back, and when he came to rest, her breaths were ragged and uncontrolled. The tears that threatened to fall from her eyes were from overwhelming desire and need, because the surging heat between her legs was near to painful. She needed release and hoped that he was not about to make her wait any longer.
Between the kisses, she felt her legs pushed apart as London rolled to her left side. He pulled her back to rest against him, coaxing her leg over his hip to allow him full access. His fingers found her wet and trembling, and within seconds had her squirming with delight.
Since her desire was riding her so close to the surface tonight, it didn’t take long for her to feel the heat that had settled deeply inside her womb explode throughout the rest of her body. Her cries were captured by London’s mouth when he pulled her face toward his and he drank her passion through their kiss. He held her shaking body against his chest and chuckled softly.
“What?” she gasped between recovering breaths, the tears she fought falling freely down her cheeks.
“Nothing, my love, nothing...it’s just that you are so easy to tease tonight. So...” he licked his fingers and then offered them to Penelope, who sucked them into her mouth slowly, “so deliciously pliant, so easily quickened,” he tasted the salt of her tears, “you are crying?”
London could feel every electric pulse that was whirring throughout her body, and knew the tears were from the intense feelings of sensual delight, not from true physical pain, although he was all too familiar with how closely intense pleasure and pain were related. He reached once again between her legs and stroked her quickly, eliciting another series of cries that rode that familiar edge of sweet agony.
“London!” Her body arched back and turned in his arms until he was once again holding her close, her leg solidly wrapped around his hip.
He looked into her eyes, knowing his own were now fully aglow, and wished for a moment that they could be together without magic always riding alongside of their passion. Her eyes were still only sparkling with love, not magic, which reassured him. Another of his fears somewhat if not totally allayed. Although magic would always be there hovering over them, his, hers, whoever’s, it was not what would keep them together. He kept telling himself that it was not what bound them to each other. He had to believe that in order to keep his happiness from turning to despair. After centuries of expecting despair, he was struggling with this new bliss, and he desperately wanted to keep that struggle to himself.
Penelope took a deep breath and moved until she was on top pushing him down beneath her.
“I love you,” she whispered against his lips, then moved her body down where she could easily undo his belt buckle, and relieve him of his pants.
“And I love you. Are you sure you’re ready?” London knew he had been a little aggressive with his fingers, and didn’t want her to pay the price in pain later, for what she thought she wanted now.
“Don’t worry about me. I’m more than ready,” she guided his hand to her swollen folds which were silky and wet.
“I guess you are!” London was pleasantly surprised, but also aware that her lust was Asher’s lust tonight, and Asher had an appetite that was rumored to be only rivaled by Belle’s. His inheritance from his maker.
She looked up at him from her position between his legs where his erection was bobbing. Penelope knew what she wanted, and kissed the inside of his muscular thighs.
It was his turn to gasp. While Penelope’s lips kissed and caressed their way upward, her hair tickled his skin. He sat up against the cushions so he could have a better view of her, and reached down to twist his fingers in the chocolaty richness of her tresses. London watched his cock disappear inside her mouth, and swallowed hard as she alternated flicking and licking with her tongue with sinking her mouth over his shaft. He wouldn’t last long enough to be inside of her if she continued to take him with her mouth. He was just too excited at the moment, and with her he never wanted to hold back. It just felt too good to let go.
“Come here,” he said, pulling her up until she laid on top of him with his cock pressed between their bodies.
He closed his eyes and kissed her.
“Open,” she said, “open your eyes, look at me.”
A moment of hesitation passed until his eyes opened to find sable fire speckled with gold gazing back at him.
Penelope sensed his sudden unease and knew right away, “Our magic is part of us, London,” she held his face, “I love when you allow your magic to consume me, don’t think it makes our love any less.”
She had guessed one of his secret fears, and it made him wonder if she would discover and put to rest all of them. He was old enough to know that relying on another to wash away your dread was never a good idea, but fear itself was diminished by the comfort of someone you loved. Penelope was that person for him, for all time, and it was more than he could hope for.
“Did you reach into my mind for that piece of me that I was trying so hard to hide from you?”
“I don’t need my magic to know you, love. I don’t need to invade your thoughts and memories to know your fears. We are a part of each other. Magic enhances what we have, it does not diminish us. But if all my magic failed me in this moment I would know the deepest parts of you not because of that magic, but because of your words on the page, your eyes when you allow yourself to really look at me, and the tenor of your voice when you say my name.”
“Penelope.”
London sat up and cradled Penelope in his lap. He lifted her gently and guided himself into her warmth, slowly settling her onto his body. They rocked themselves into an easy rhythm, tightening their embrace with every subtle motion, kissing, and watching each other as their magic joined together and they rode into oblivion.
They were lost so deeply inside one another that neither could feel the pull from above. Perched high on one of the communication towers, a lithe, raven haired vampire watched the sweethearts, feeding on their love and wondering how he could be so close to such beauty and not reach out and touch it.
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Narcissus paced in the glass box as the scenes erupted around her in 360 degrees of pleasure and pain.
Asher’s plan had been masterful. Meng Die and Faust played their parts beautifully, as well. He wondered, briefly, why Meng was being so cooperative with his designs until he realized that perhaps this was something she too enjoyed, but was reluctant to share with anyone around her. Before tonight she seemed content in letting everyone think she was simply a raving bitch. But Asher wondered what she might be like to work with if some of that “bitch” was channeled into something more productive.
Faust was pure magnificence to behold. His copper eyes sparkled with absolute glee, for Faust was one who truly embraced who he was and what made him happy. He was a regular at the club, and was a respected and popular Dom. Asher and he had enjoyed many conversations and shared many submissives over the last few years. Asher could not have been more proud of him if he’d been his own child, or if he’d trained Faust himself.
Each submissive had been moved to a station and was being attended to in turn. Asher was sitting on a red velvet bench, with a tall blonde bent across his lap. Her bottom was red and bore the marks of his palm. He was giving her a thorough spanking, and from the muffled cries from her gagged mouth, she was very much enjoying it. He had paused only for a moment to caress her throbbing bottom, all the while never looking at the Oba who had long since abandoned her chair and was practically licking the glass of her transparent prison.
Gerard was at his master’s feet, attentive and ready to do his bidding. Ixion and Ares had not moved from their posts, and Castor and Pollux were sitting in front of the stage, casually enjoying a beer and the show. Neither brother’s expression betrayed their thoughts, but Asher had caught Pollux grinning more than once. On which end of the flogger he wished to be, remained a mystery. A mystery that would save itself for some future date, but one that Asher felt would prove amusing to pluck out. Castor watched with the intent of a voyeur. His mouth did not betray his thoughts as his brother’s did, but his eyes were sparkling. Asher had taken a chance including them in this enterprise and had breathed a theoretical sigh of relief that they were not in the least uncomfortable. Penelope had let him know that Castor had a fear of the ardeur. In Asher’s opinion that made him wise, not prudish. Clearly they would fit in well.
Asher pulled the blonde up until she was sitting in his lap, legs opened wide. Her nipples were clamped with small steel clips making them large and hard and dark pink. He flicked her right one roughly causing her to screech through the silk. She was covered in a thin layer of sweat, the red marks of the flogger and nothing else, save the gag and a pair of black patent stiletto heels. She smelled vaguely of gardenia, not his favorite flower. Her initial flogging of the night had been because of this, and he made her swear that she would never again wear that scent in his presence. A promise she made willingly through well earned tears.
Her long white blonde hair was natural and silky and feminine as he liked it. He made a great deal of the female subs’ hair. A blonde, a brunette and a curly red-head. Narcissus kept her hair cropped because she could never quite achieve the long thick feminine locks she desired, and so she publicly decried the look on women. In truth she was jealous, and far too proud to admit it by resorting to wigs.
Asher motioned for Gerard to crawl over between his legs and ordered him to begin pleasuring the blonde. Asher held her as she started to squirm, fisted her long hair in his hand and pulled back hard on her head until the long line of her neck was completely exposed. He had, of course, received the subs’ permission to use his powers on them, and feed from them, before the session commenced, so when he looked into her pale blue eyes all he saw there was pleading submission.
Take me, please.
Asher had not played with this particular woman before, but she had long inquired about being on the menu. In fact, each and every one of the subs present had all been Narcissus’ at some point, but she had cleverly kept them clear of the club on nights when Asher was expected to be there. These five were special. These five Narci kept all to herself. She was so possessive of them that she had actually banned one of the men and the blonde in Asher’s lap, from coming to the club without her express invitation. She had no idea that Asher even knew of their existence. Obviously she had underestimated him in more ways than one.
Narcissus couldn’t look away, no matter how much she wanted to close her eyes and forget how badly she wanted to be the blonde.
Asher’s power spread through the blonde into Gerard, who was expertly using his tongue and only his tongue, as directed. His hands remained dutifully at his sides, which displayed his experienced obedience. Asher was very pleased.
Around them Faust and Meng were finishing up with their charges as sounds of release echoed throughout the room. Nothing was lost on Asher as he glanced from station to station, and finally settled his eyes on his guards, none of whom even twitched.
Such control! he thought. Wonderful!
The blonde’s orgasm was brimming when he pulled her hair back roughly and struck at her throat. Her swanmane blood was hot and tasty, but more than that, taking it had an even more desired effect.
As Asher drank, his eyes set finally on his Oba, who he had artfully ignored looking at for the past several hours. The look in her eyes was one of utter hopelessness and defeat. He enjoyed it so much he almost forgot about the woman spasming in his lap.
He pulled up and licked the blood away from her neck, loosened the gag, and kissed her gently on the forehead before lifting her and handing her off to Ares, who along with Ixion had arranged comfortable beds in the back rooms for the subs to sleep and recover. They would be well fed and rested and healed before Asher would need them again the following evening. However, from the look on Narcissus’ face, he didn’t think much more convincing was going to be required.
Gerard was still sitting at Asher’s feet, not having had the fringe benefit of Asher’s bite since his cock and balls were still tied up tight. Asher reached down and gently lifted Gerard’s face.
“You have been a most obedient and worthy assistant to me tonight, mon garçon doux*,” he stroked the hyena’s wavy hair. “Will you retire to my chamber with me? There is some darkness yet left to us.”
Gerard smiled, “yes, master, yes!”
Asher grabbed Gerard’s leash, jerked it tightly, and headed in the direction of the room he used when he stayed at the club. Before disappearing with his pet, he spoke to his people.
“When everyone is settled for the day there are accommodations for you as well as a detail of daytime guards I have arranged. Please get some rest, and when you wake make certain our guests are fed, bathed and ready for me when I arise. Faust, Meng, take your pleasures as you wish.”
Asher noted that each of the vampires had a sub who was practically licking their heels for some private attention. Whatever they did on their own time was their business. As for himself, he planned to indulge his own desires, and perhaps take the edge off of Penelope who had been doing a wonderful job of keeping him full of energy. Whatever London was feeding her, be it lust or food, he was doing a marvellous job.
I wonder how Jean-Claude has fared so far?
He wasn’t in the mood to check in, and as for Penny, he still wasn’t sure he wanted her feeling what he was feeling at the moment.
“Sir?” Ixion questioned.
“Oui?”
“What about our Oba?”
Asher continued on his way without looking back at Narcissus who was pressed against the glass looking longingly in his direction.
“Leave her.”
Asher disappeared with Gerard behind a black velvet curtain.
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*My sweet boy
Back to index
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As always, very special thanks to Rekastormborn and Submissively Asher's for all of their help and support as my betas! They are truly gifted writers and I am lucky to have them! Also, thank you to all of my readers...you totally make my day!
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London and Penny emerged from the heavy steel door on the rooftop of the circus. The late spring night was beautiful, if a bit chilly. The thermometer read just over 57 degrees and there was a very light breeze.
London gave a nod to the security guard who was covering that section, and squeezed Penny’s hand slightly as he led her past. The guard was a trusted Rodere, but one who’s detail was guarding the perimeter of the circus rather than the inside. London knew only enough about him that his name was Calo, and that Claudia had deemed him a “stand up guy”, which was high praise from her.
Penelope breathed in deeply. She had not been outside since the opening night of Veritas, and so even the scents of the urbanized atmosphere of St. Louis was as a freshly mowed meadow to her senses. The circus was pleasant enough, but she had recently found herself thinking about her island home, in particular. The little metaphysical trip she had been on with Helene a few nights ago probably was to blame. She had awoken to find herself in the grassy meadows of her childhood, drenched in sunshine and smelling of the herbs and flowers that she and Julianna had picked there as girls. That sylvan serenity seemed hard to find here, with the exception of the cottage Asher had shared with her.
But tonight, London was giving her something she needed, and she loved him for it.
“It’s this way,” he led her through a jungle of metal and cables that seemed ready to devour the surroundings. They walked into the center of the rooftop where there was what looked like a small building.
“Are we going inside?” Penelope wondered if her brief sojourn in the open was over.
“It’s more than it appears,” London smiled and opened the door.
What was revealed was beyond her wildest expectations.
The room was indeed that, a room. But a room with no roof, completely open to the night sky while at once shielding the occupants from the majority of the noise of the outside world.
It was as if Scheherazade herself had sprung to life from the pages of the Arabian Nights and transformed what started life as a storage dump for broken HVAC equipment into a romantic Persian oasis.
Dozens of sheer swathes of gossamer chiffon fabric in golds, reds, greens, and ambers hung from wrought iron hooks that had been pounded into the cement of the walls. The floor had been covered in several antique Persian carpets with piles of cushions and pillows making it seem to be one giant luxurious couch. The open roof was swathed in delicate netting, embroidered with tiny crystals that turned the artificial urban sky into one full of sparkling stars.
In the center was a low table set with a golden place setting. An elaborately jeweled goblet finished the look, which was enhanced by two large oil lamps that provided soft light, and small pots of subtle, yet intoxicating fragrance.
Exotic flower petals were strewn around on the table, floor and cushions, and the soft sounds of Middle Eastern instruments filled the air. Penelope completely forgot that not 100 feet away were men with guns patrolling the rooftop. They may well have been 100 miles away for all she cared.
Penelope looked up at London, still clasping his hand.
“You did this all, for me?”
“Jason helped quite a bit, but I designed it. I wanted to show you a bit of the romance of what I lived...that it was not all violence and death. There was great beauty in that land where I became a man. Almost as much as is here before me at this moment.” He graced her cheek with his fingers until he held her chin and her gaze.
London realized that by modern standards he was being a little sappy, but both he and Penelope had not had nearly enough sappiness in their lives, and he thought they deserved it.
They looked at each other for a long moment before London led her once again, this time to the large cushions. He motioned for her to sit, which she did in her own very ladylike way reminiscent of Anderson’s mermaid, while he set the basket on the table and carefully unpacked it.
She saw her favorite Italian Chianti, as well as fresh pineapple, raspberries, pomegranates, and figs.
“You brought me dinner, too?”
“Of course,” he laughed, “all cold dishes, I hope you don’t mind. It was.... practical.” London turned and knelt in front of her, carefully untying her tennis shoes and setting them aside. He took a small container and opened the lid.
“Shrimp!” Penelope loved seafood, and it was not something Asher particular enjoyed.
London carefully dipped each piece in a spicy sauce and teased her lips before allowing her to take a bite.
“Mmmmm...” She licked her lips, and then so did London.
“Do you like?” He had Jason pick up different foods from all sorts of markets that afternoon after he delivered Penny to the gym.
London was eager to have his night with her begin and to have her naked and writhing underneath his touch, but he would not forget his vow to Asher. She was going to be well-fed and strong, just in case. It was not a coincidence that his dinner choices for her were all very high in protein.
“Oh yes! What a wonderful surprise!”
The shrimp was followed by some cold, rare fillet Mignon on toast, with a delicate horseradish sauce. The food seemed to be temporizing her sexual desire for the moment. She had learned from listening to Anita that sometimes one hunger could be replaced with another. The problem was that if Asher was drawing as much off of her as he was pouring into her, it would probably be moot, no matter how much food she consumed. But for now, at least, she was in control.
Sips of wine, for both of them, and soft kisses followed each course. London shared a rare story from his human life about the first time he and his brothers had got into their father’s stock of port, which was being saved for some important visiting baron.
“My eldest brother took the whipping for that escapade,” he mused, his eyes far away. “But he made certain that the rest of us paid in other ways!”
They both laughed as Penny ate, reclined on the comfy cushions. When she could eat no more, Penelope reached to set the empty goblet back on the table and looked down at her jeans, suddenly feeling a bit under-dressed for her rich surroundings.
“I feel I should have dressed the part of the harem girl,” she teased.
He didn’t answer right away, but instead leaned in and kissed her, softly at first, then with a growing fever as if he was also feeling the onslaught of sexual need that was pressing so hard against all of her control. He felt her magic start to seep into him. Cool and comforting, but tonight tinged with a strange heat he had not felt before. Although he was a little wary of the role that magic was playing in their relationship, it still felt very good and it was extremely hard for him when he pulled back and finally spoke.
“It didn’t matter what you wore. I wasn’t planning on you being in it for long.” He suddenly moved and pulled her t-shirts over her head, throwing them aside, then deftly removed her jeans, leaving her in her bra and panties.
“These are beautiful,” he said fingering the pale pink satin strap of her bra. He ran his finger underneath caressing her skin and making her shudder with excitement, “but not for tonight.”
When she was naked he commanded, “Lay back, against the pillows. I want to look at you.”
Penelope stretched her nude body out on the shimmering fabrics of the cushions beneath her. There was heat coming from somewhere because she was not in the least cold anymore, but whether that heat was emanating from somewhere in the room or from within her own body, was a mystery.
She leaned up on one elbow and with her free hand traced a line down the contours of her body, around the curve of her breast, across her hip finally resting in the nest of brown curls between her legs. Penelope had been highly aroused for the last hour or so anyway, so watching London’s eyes follow her hand was near to unbearable. Despite all of her careful control, she was shaking softly as if it were their first time all over again.
London, however, was very experienced in such situations. Besides, there was something he wanted to do before the sexual heat that was licking at their heels consumed them both.
“I have something for you.” His pale fingers disappeared into the right front pocket of his pants and emerged with a small black velvet bag.
Penelope leaned forward, “something for me?”
Despite her past, she had somehow retained a girlishness when it came to presents and pretty things. It pleased Asher to no end how accepting she was of his presents, and since he and London were cut from similar courtier’s cloth, the knight also smiled widely at her excitement.
“Ah,” he teased and hid the bag behind his back, “but do you deserve it?”
Penelope pouted playfully, “I think you should give it to me on credit...for future performance.”
They both laughed.
“I think you are spending too much time with our whimsical wolf, Penny, my love.” London opened his palm to reveal the bag once again. “Open it.”
Penelope took the bag and carefully undid the strings holding it shut. She reached inside and drew out a sparkling gold chain. But the chain was not the most spectacular part of the present. Suspended from it hung what, on closer inspection, was a family crest.
London closed his eyes and recited, “A scarlet shield, an armored helm, the ragged lion in gold. Numquam Obliviscar.”
“Never forget,” she whispered.
“It was, it is, my family’s motto, and crest. The irony is not lost on me that scarlet...your color, was always my color.”
A large ruby represented the scarlet shield of the crest; the helm at the top was solid gold, the Latin inscribed in gold in a semi circle surrounding the ragged lion, which was comprised of several small diamonds.
“It’s beautiful,” Penelope was struck by the craftsmanship, so delicate and yet it had a heft that she suddenly wanted to feel against her skin.
“May I?” London held out his hands.
“Yes!” Penelope handed him the necklace so he could put it on her.
“It can be worn as a pendant, or a broach, if you wish.”
He reached around her neck to fasten the clasp, brushing her cheek with his lips as he leaned back to admire her.
The crest nestled between her breasts and seemed to radiate against her creamy skin.
“Oh London, you’ve once again given me a piece of you and I am without words strong enough to convey what I’m feeling. Many years ago you first graced me with the gift of your intellect and insight. Then, after we met in the flesh, you gave me a song you wrote out of love just for me, the music of which still echoes in my memory as the most beautiful tune I have ever heard. When next you gifted me your heart and your body, I never expected or needed anything more. Now you’ve given me your past.” Penelope had studied enough medieval literature to know the significance of his gift.
“You are my lady and I want you to wear my colors.” He paused and looked down, “Of course, I don’t expect you to wear it always.” London was still very conscious of his place in Penelope’s life.
“I will wear it, proudly!” She threw herself into his arms and kissed him. She knew what he was thinking, and for now wanted it out of his mind. She hoped her body could bring him back to the moment.
London gently pushed her down until she was once again leaning against the cushions.
“Are you ready for desert?”
Penelope smiled and looked away coquettishly. She was ready, yes she was.
London, still fully clothed, picked up the bowl of fruit and knelt before her, sitting on his heels. He lifted a piece of pineapple to her lips, squeezing it gently so the juice of it ran down his fingers and her lips.
“Open.”
She opened her mouth and let him place the piece on her tongue. The pieces were small enough that she could suck on them while London’s fingers still held them. When he let go, she chewed and swallowed slowly, savoring the taste of each of the fleshy fruits as he gave them to her.
Between bites, London lapped up the juices that were on her lips and chin.
“Careful, my love,” Penelope cautioned. She knew he could manage small sips of wine and spirits, and the occasional liquids, but she didn’t want him to become sick.
“I know my limits, darling,” he smirked, “do you?”
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Everything was beautiful, in his opinion.
Asher surveyed his handiwork.
The five submissives, three of who were women, hung by leather cuffs from chains that were secured to the rafters. Each was attired differently, according to the directions Asher had relayed through Gerard. The host himself was at Asher’s feet, following him on hands and knees as he walked around checking everyone’s bindings.
He chose to invite more women than men simply because Narcissus preferred to play with men and because she fancied herself as the only “woman” for Asher, she would be ripped by jealousy at his attention to other women. Since he felt no need to placate her in any way tonight, each woman was more beautiful than the next, and nothing like the Oba. When she saw who they were, Asher was certain that the significance would not be lost.
Narcissus finally appeared, emerging from the double doors that led to the private playrooms, and her own personal quarters. She was dressed in her usual fare, stiletto heels, and black fishnet stockings with the garters peeking out of the hem of a black lace slip. She had elbow length black satin gloves on, and several strands of pearls of various lengths around her neck. Her dark hair was closely cropped, and her make-up expertly done. Her lips shiny and red seemed begging for a kiss. She had chosen her ensemble with as much care and purpose as Asher.
She had been informed that Asher was having a private party, and that she was the guest of honor, of course. The Oba was powerful, so if she was feeling any fear, she was shielding it very well. Many who knew her may perceive her as mad, but she was not stupid, except, it seemed, where Asher was concerned. And now she knew she had made a grave mistake in how she played her last hand.
Asher stood with the grace and silence of a vampire his age. He knew the effect his scars had on the Oba, which was the reason they were so visible tonight. He could smell her arousal from across the room, and although he was deft at hiding his true feelings, it sickened him. Any desire for this creature he had once secreted away in his inner sanctum was gone. All that remained was the desire to teach her to never again forget who her master was.
Narcissus had a few choices about to how to handle the scene that lay before her as she walked slowly towards the stage with her heels clicking rhythmically on the floor. Her two hyena guards stuck close behind her, but not even they would dare to defy Asher. As per vampire custom, the hyenas belonged to him as much as they belonged to her.
It was a custom that Jean-Claude, perhaps out of respect and love for Richard, had not often adhered to, but that was ever present in a master vampire and animal-to-call relationship. He did not make a habit of lording his mastery over the wolves. But that was Jean-Claude. Asher didn’t have the same modern sensibilities, nor the affection for the Oba that Jean-Claude held for the Ulfric. Narcissus had lived her life in fear, for the most part, so it was something she understood. Asher planned to use that fear, at least in the beginning, to strengthen his control. It would be only after her total submission that they could perhaps actually talk, and move forward. At least that was his grand hope.
As she moved towards the stage, the lights shut off behind her leaving her wake in darkness. Castor and Pollux were standing by the short stair that led to where Asher was standing with Ixion and Ares, while Faust and Meng Die stood on either side of the suspended subs. Gerard was still at Asher’s feet, but now with the added benefit of a leash attached to his leather collar. The vampire held it taught so that Gerard’s head was at a strained angle. The look of euphoria on his face was undeniable.
“It would seem,” Narcissus said casually as she approached the stage, “that you have taken over my club this evening. I certainly hope you have good reason for hindering our pack from making their living.”
Asher didn’t move, “Is it all about money for you, Narcissus? Whatever happened to love?” His voice was threatening and filled with hundreds of years of practiced sarcasm.
Narcissus stopped in her tracks, about ten feet from the stairs. The entire room was dark now, save the pinpoints of light that came down from the ceiling. The effect was supposed to mirror the night of the new moon, when one could see a million stars. The lone spotlight shone down on Asher, making him appear ethereal and terrifying at once.
“You dare to speak to me of love?” Her disturbingly hysterical laughter echoed throughout the club. “I don’t think that love has anything to do with this. If you loved me, you would never have taken that girl into your bed, or whatever it is you have that passes for a heart.” The rage that Narcissus had been holding on to exploded throughout the room, searing the hyenas.
Even Castor and Pollux felt the smack of her rage, but they had given their word to Asher that no matter what, they would not do anything they were not commanded by him to do. So they stood stoically, watching the scene. Whatever was going on beneath the surface with the brothers was completely hidden. They were entirely in control, something that Asher took note of and filed in his brain for later.
Asher spoke with the coldness that had protected him for almost three hundred years.
“I never loved you.”
The words did their damage, because at that moment, Narcissus’ face showed that she understood that those words were the truest she had ever heard.
“But I loved you,” she pouted, and either she was an accomplished actor, or she truly did believe her words because her face fell with the kind of disappointment only one who has been ravaged by unrequited love could understand.
“You are obsessed with me, that is not love. I know love once again, and although you will not believe me, I do hope that one day you will learn the difference.” He held out Gerard’s leash to Meng Die, who took it with a strong jerk that elicited a cry of intense pleasure from her captive, and then he held his hand out to the Oba.
“Will you accept the punishment I have deemed appropriate for you?”
Narcissus looked at the stage. The empty glass box’s door was open, and she knew the chair inside was meant for her. Whatever Asher had planned would end one of two ways, and although Narcissus was usually confident that the ultimate outcome of her and Asher’s relationship would be mutual pleasure, this time she wasn’t so sure this wouldn’t end in her total submission.
Without looking at anyone but her master, she ascended the stage, and took his hand.
Back to index
Chapter 35- Control by nicola71
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As always, special thanks to Rekastormborn and Subbie for their invaluable advice! A SMEX warning for this chapter!
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He explored her each time as if it were the first time, and tonight was no different as they lay touching and kissing in the soft golden glow of scented oils under the starry sky he had made for her.
London had Penelope cuddled against his still clothed body, nibbling softly at her lips as his hands clasped her possessively. He drew out their pleasure with each caress and he felt her earnest yearning for him through every feathery kiss. His own fiery desires danced throughout his body, pushing his excitement higher and higher because at this moment Penelope appeared to be utterly defenseless, deliciously naked, and entirely his.
When he pulled away from her mouth a small trickle of blood ran down her chin. He licked it carefully, savoring yet another part of her that for this window in time belonged solely to him.
“Your clothes are still on,” she panted in a whisper. Her body was on fire in a million different ways. It was at once both invigorating and infuriating.
“I know.”
He smiled with a lasciviousness that she was used to seeing from Asher, not her knight. The thrill of that look lanced her with such lust that she could barely speak. But her lust had not overrode her wit, as yet, and she tried her best to seem in control when in fact she was more out of control than she had ever felt.
“You are exhibiting an enormous amount of control tonight.” Her words came laboured, partly from unquenched thirst for him and partly because most of London’s weight was pressing her into the silk cushions.
“I know.”
He started kissing her again, moving from lips to cheeks to chin, then lower to her neck, shoulders and chest. All the while his hands kept a firm grip on her. She wasn’t moving anywhere his tender yet firm embrace wouldn’t allow.
Without words he flipped her over onto her stomach, pinning her down with his body. He gently moved her hair out of the way, and lavished the back of her neck and shoulders with small flicks of his tongue and kisses that devoured with increasing intensity. Her moans told him he had made the right decision.
Content that she would allow him to do as he wished, he raised himself off of her body and straddled her thighs. He was running his fingers lightly over her backside and along the lines of her torso when he felt her shudder and quake. Her body was so warm tonight, and the cool smoothness of his own skin drank in that warmth. London fought an internal battle with his baser needs. Part of him wanted to shed his clothes, spread her open and sink inside her warmth; surround himself in it, drown in it. Instead, he leaned over and kissed a line from the base of her neck, down her spine, to her plump rear.
Penelope only managed a whimper when his kisses moved from her ass down the backs of her thighs and legs. When she felt his body next, his shirt was gone and once again he pressed his full weight on top of her. She could feel the roughness of his scars against her back, and when he came to rest, her breaths were ragged and uncontrolled. The tears that threatened to fall from her eyes were from overwhelming desire and need, because the surging heat between her legs was near to painful. She needed release and hoped that he was not about to make her wait any longer.
Between the kisses, she felt her legs pushed apart as London rolled to her left side. He pulled her back to rest against him, coaxing her leg over his hip to allow him full access. His fingers found her wet and trembling, and within seconds had her squirming with delight.
Since her desire was riding her so close to the surface tonight, it didn’t take long for her to feel the heat that had settled deeply inside her womb explode throughout the rest of her body. Her cries were captured by London’s mouth when he pulled her face toward his and he drank her passion through their kiss. He held her shaking body against his chest and chuckled softly.
“What?” she gasped between recovering breaths, the tears she fought falling freely down her cheeks.
“Nothing, my love, nothing...it’s just that you are so easy to tease tonight. So...” he licked his fingers and then offered them to Penelope, who sucked them into her mouth slowly, “so deliciously pliant, so easily quickened,” he tasted the salt of her tears, “you are crying?”
London could feel every electric pulse that was whirring throughout her body, and knew the tears were from the intense feelings of sensual delight, not from true physical pain, although he was all too familiar with how closely intense pleasure and pain were related. He reached once again between her legs and stroked her quickly, eliciting another series of cries that rode that familiar edge of sweet agony.
“London!” Her body arched back and turned in his arms until he was once again holding her close, her leg solidly wrapped around his hip.
He looked into her eyes, knowing his own were now fully aglow, and wished for a moment that they could be together without magic always riding alongside of their passion. Her eyes were still only sparkling with love, not magic, which reassured him. Another of his fears somewhat if not totally allayed. Although magic would always be there hovering over them, his, hers, whoever’s, it was not what would keep them together. He kept telling himself that it was not what bound them to each other. He had to believe that in order to keep his happiness from turning to despair. After centuries of expecting despair, he was struggling with this new bliss, and he desperately wanted to keep that struggle to himself.
Penelope took a deep breath and moved until she was on top pushing him down beneath her.
“I love you,” she whispered against his lips, then moved her body down where she could easily undo his belt buckle, and relieve him of his pants.
“And I love you. Are you sure you’re ready?” London knew he had been a little aggressive with his fingers, and didn’t want her to pay the price in pain later, for what she thought she wanted now.
“Don’t worry about me. I’m more than ready,” she guided his hand to her swollen folds which were silky and wet.
“I guess you are!” London was pleasantly surprised, but also aware that her lust was Asher’s lust tonight, and Asher had an appetite that was rumored to be only rivaled by Belle’s. His inheritance from his maker.
She looked up at him from her position between his legs where his erection was bobbing. Penelope knew what she wanted, and kissed the inside of his muscular thighs.
It was his turn to gasp. While Penelope’s lips kissed and caressed their way upward, her hair tickled his skin. He sat up against the cushions so he could have a better view of her, and reached down to twist his fingers in the chocolaty richness of her tresses. London watched his cock disappear inside her mouth, and swallowed hard as she alternated flicking and licking with her tongue with sinking her mouth over his shaft. He wouldn’t last long enough to be inside of her if she continued to take him with her mouth. He was just too excited at the moment, and with her he never wanted to hold back. It just felt too good to let go.
“Come here,” he said, pulling her up until she laid on top of him with his cock pressed between their bodies.
He closed his eyes and kissed her.
“Open,” she said, “open your eyes, look at me.”
A moment of hesitation passed until his eyes opened to find sable fire speckled with gold gazing back at him.
Penelope sensed his sudden unease and knew right away, “Our magic is part of us, London,” she held his face, “I love when you allow your magic to consume me, don’t think it makes our love any less.”
She had guessed one of his secret fears, and it made him wonder if she would discover and put to rest all of them. He was old enough to know that relying on another to wash away your dread was never a good idea, but fear itself was diminished by the comfort of someone you loved. Penelope was that person for him, for all time, and it was more than he could hope for.
“Did you reach into my mind for that piece of me that I was trying so hard to hide from you?”
“I don’t need my magic to know you, love. I don’t need to invade your thoughts and memories to know your fears. We are a part of each other. Magic enhances what we have, it does not diminish us. But if all my magic failed me in this moment I would know the deepest parts of you not because of that magic, but because of your words on the page, your eyes when you allow yourself to really look at me, and the tenor of your voice when you say my name.”
“Penelope.”
London sat up and cradled Penelope in his lap. He lifted her gently and guided himself into her warmth, slowly settling her onto his body. They rocked themselves into an easy rhythm, tightening their embrace with every subtle motion, kissing, and watching each other as their magic joined together and they rode into oblivion.
They were lost so deeply inside one another that neither could feel the pull from above. Perched high on one of the communication towers, a lithe, raven haired vampire watched the sweethearts, feeding on their love and wondering how he could be so close to such beauty and not reach out and touch it.
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Narcissus paced in the glass box as the scenes erupted around her in 360 degrees of pleasure and pain.
Asher’s plan had been masterful. Meng Die and Faust played their parts beautifully, as well. He wondered, briefly, why Meng was being so cooperative with his designs until he realized that perhaps this was something she too enjoyed, but was reluctant to share with anyone around her. Before tonight she seemed content in letting everyone think she was simply a raving bitch. But Asher wondered what she might be like to work with if some of that “bitch” was channeled into something more productive.
Faust was pure magnificence to behold. His copper eyes sparkled with absolute glee, for Faust was one who truly embraced who he was and what made him happy. He was a regular at the club, and was a respected and popular Dom. Asher and he had enjoyed many conversations and shared many submissives over the last few years. Asher could not have been more proud of him if he’d been his own child, or if he’d trained Faust himself.
Each submissive had been moved to a station and was being attended to in turn. Asher was sitting on a red velvet bench, with a tall blonde bent across his lap. Her bottom was red and bore the marks of his palm. He was giving her a thorough spanking, and from the muffled cries from her gagged mouth, she was very much enjoying it. He had paused only for a moment to caress her throbbing bottom, all the while never looking at the Oba who had long since abandoned her chair and was practically licking the glass of her transparent prison.
Gerard was at his master’s feet, attentive and ready to do his bidding. Ixion and Ares had not moved from their posts, and Castor and Pollux were sitting in front of the stage, casually enjoying a beer and the show. Neither brother’s expression betrayed their thoughts, but Asher had caught Pollux grinning more than once. On which end of the flogger he wished to be, remained a mystery. A mystery that would save itself for some future date, but one that Asher felt would prove amusing to pluck out. Castor watched with the intent of a voyeur. His mouth did not betray his thoughts as his brother’s did, but his eyes were sparkling. Asher had taken a chance including them in this enterprise and had breathed a theoretical sigh of relief that they were not in the least uncomfortable. Penelope had let him know that Castor had a fear of the ardeur. In Asher’s opinion that made him wise, not prudish. Clearly they would fit in well.
Asher pulled the blonde up until she was sitting in his lap, legs opened wide. Her nipples were clamped with small steel clips making them large and hard and dark pink. He flicked her right one roughly causing her to screech through the silk. She was covered in a thin layer of sweat, the red marks of the flogger and nothing else, save the gag and a pair of black patent stiletto heels. She smelled vaguely of gardenia, not his favorite flower. Her initial flogging of the night had been because of this, and he made her swear that she would never again wear that scent in his presence. A promise she made willingly through well earned tears.
Her long white blonde hair was natural and silky and feminine as he liked it. He made a great deal of the female subs’ hair. A blonde, a brunette and a curly red-head. Narcissus kept her hair cropped because she could never quite achieve the long thick feminine locks she desired, and so she publicly decried the look on women. In truth she was jealous, and far too proud to admit it by resorting to wigs.
Asher motioned for Gerard to crawl over between his legs and ordered him to begin pleasuring the blonde. Asher held her as she started to squirm, fisted her long hair in his hand and pulled back hard on her head until the long line of her neck was completely exposed. He had, of course, received the subs’ permission to use his powers on them, and feed from them, before the session commenced, so when he looked into her pale blue eyes all he saw there was pleading submission.
Take me, please.
Asher had not played with this particular woman before, but she had long inquired about being on the menu. In fact, each and every one of the subs present had all been Narcissus’ at some point, but she had cleverly kept them clear of the club on nights when Asher was expected to be there. These five were special. These five Narci kept all to herself. She was so possessive of them that she had actually banned one of the men and the blonde in Asher’s lap, from coming to the club without her express invitation. She had no idea that Asher even knew of their existence. Obviously she had underestimated him in more ways than one.
Narcissus couldn’t look away, no matter how much she wanted to close her eyes and forget how badly she wanted to be the blonde.
Asher’s power spread through the blonde into Gerard, who was expertly using his tongue and only his tongue, as directed. His hands remained dutifully at his sides, which displayed his experienced obedience. Asher was very pleased.
Around them Faust and Meng were finishing up with their charges as sounds of release echoed throughout the room. Nothing was lost on Asher as he glanced from station to station, and finally settled his eyes on his guards, none of whom even twitched.
Such control! he thought. Wonderful!
The blonde’s orgasm was brimming when he pulled her hair back roughly and struck at her throat. Her swanmane blood was hot and tasty, but more than that, taking it had an even more desired effect.
As Asher drank, his eyes set finally on his Oba, who he had artfully ignored looking at for the past several hours. The look in her eyes was one of utter hopelessness and defeat. He enjoyed it so much he almost forgot about the woman spasming in his lap.
He pulled up and licked the blood away from her neck, loosened the gag, and kissed her gently on the forehead before lifting her and handing her off to Ares, who along with Ixion had arranged comfortable beds in the back rooms for the subs to sleep and recover. They would be well fed and rested and healed before Asher would need them again the following evening. However, from the look on Narcissus’ face, he didn’t think much more convincing was going to be required.
Gerard was still sitting at Asher’s feet, not having had the fringe benefit of Asher’s bite since his cock and balls were still tied up tight. Asher reached down and gently lifted Gerard’s face.
“You have been a most obedient and worthy assistant to me tonight, mon garçon doux*,” he stroked the hyena’s wavy hair. “Will you retire to my chamber with me? There is some darkness yet left to us.”
Gerard smiled, “yes, master, yes!”
Asher grabbed Gerard’s leash, jerked it tightly, and headed in the direction of the room he used when he stayed at the club. Before disappearing with his pet, he spoke to his people.
“When everyone is settled for the day there are accommodations for you as well as a detail of daytime guards I have arranged. Please get some rest, and when you wake make certain our guests are fed, bathed and ready for me when I arise. Faust, Meng, take your pleasures as you wish.”
Asher noted that each of the vampires had a sub who was practically licking their heels for some private attention. Whatever they did on their own time was their business. As for himself, he planned to indulge his own desires, and perhaps take the edge off of Penelope who had been doing a wonderful job of keeping him full of energy. Whatever London was feeding her, be it lust or food, he was doing a marvellous job.
I wonder how Jean-Claude has fared so far?
He wasn’t in the mood to check in, and as for Penny, he still wasn’t sure he wanted her feeling what he was feeling at the moment.
“Sir?” Ixion questioned.
“Oui?”
“What about our Oba?”
Asher continued on his way without looking back at Narcissus who was pressed against the glass looking longingly in his direction.
“Leave her.”
Asher disappeared with Gerard behind a black velvet curtain.
************************************************************************
*My sweet boy
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