Blood and Bondage Page 8

  Oliver snarled, the sound akin to an angry, wild beast. With his hands and feet still restrained, he pushed off from the wall. He pounded into her, lunging back and forth until Anaïs’s sex clamped down on him with a tight grip.

  “It feels so damn good,” the vampire moaned as her hips continued to thrust.

  “Please. Tell me it’s okay to come,” Oliver ground out through pursed lips, his jaw clenched as if wired shut. “I can’t hold out any longer.”

  “Oh God! Yes.” Anaïs screamed as her pussy shot backwards with one last deep thrust. She felt his cock throb and pulse. Then the spray of his seed exploded inside her, painting her walls with white-hot heat.

  With sweat dripping from their torsos, Anaïs drooped down low and hugged her head between her knees. She gasped for air, unable to breathe. Behind her, Oliver’s arms and legs went limp, dangling as if he were a fish on a hook. After what seemed like an eternity, he regained his footing and pulled out of her. The absence of his body forced Anaïs to cry out. Suddenly, she felt empty and exposed. The glare of more than a dozen red vampire eyes bore into her once again. Not a soul in the room had missed a moment of their wanton display.

  “Let’s go find Bobby and the twins. I’m in need of a stiff drink,” Oliver said, while Anaïs put the remnants of her tattered clothing back into place. Then, she removed the chains that bound him to the wall, and readjusted the collar and leash around his neck.

  “Fine by me. Besides, you’ll need a babysitter while I go clean up in the ladies room,” Anaïs said, setting herself back on her wobbly feet as she led her lover across the dance floor to the bar.

  From the corner of her eye, she spied the threesome. Bobby sat on a stool at a table by the entrance of the club, one twin glued to each of his well-toned thighs. It was hard to tell the two girls apart, excerpt for the unique ensembles they chose to wear. Savannah wore a scoop neck purple jersey knit dress with matching sling-back heels, while Sienna preferred a backless black sequined mini and boots that rose passed her knees. Although their style of dress appeared completely different, one thing proved certain; neither of them could get enough of Bobby DuBois’ southern boy good looks and vampire charm. They whispered in his ears and pawed at his rock-hard physique almost incessantly.

  “Excuse me,” Anaïs said as she approached the group. She cleared her throat, aware of Oliver’s hard, masculine frame at her back as he came up behind her. “You two wouldn’t happen to know where I can find the ladies’ room, would you?”

  Anaïs needed to put some distance between the human lover on her heels. Even though she’d ridden his cock like a bucking bronco a few minutes before, her body still yearned for his touch. Already she could feel the heat of her desire radiate between her legs. By no means was their fuck session through.

  The twins ignored Anaïs’s question at first, but then Bobby lifted his head and met her gaze. He slapped his girlfriends on their asses, then pushed off from his seat. “Hand me your boy toy’s lead and I’ll keep an eye on him while you girls are in the can.”

  ****

  Pierre remained hidden in the dark shadows of the club. He’d been watching and waiting, entranced by each sultry move his long-time lover had made. The minute he spotted Anaïs step into the dimly lit room, he found he couldn’t look away. Mesmerized by her beauty and unsurpassed sexual prowess, he took in every nuance of her being: the wild, untamed curls that outlined her face. The long, billowy elegance of a dancer’s frame. Her small, firm breasts. In two seconds flat, the woman’s physical appearance had him horny and hard. No matter how long it’d been since he’d fucked her, his cock responded the same way it always had. But along with desire, rage brewed inside him too.

  Pierre noticed her as she pranced across the dance floor, flaunting the fresh piece of meat at the end of a short chain. It was the same pathetic human she’d been frolicking around with for the last couple of weeks. The sadistic demonstration they’d put on for the crowd helped fester Pierre’s strong urge to torture and maim. It wouldn’t be the first time Anaïs’s actions had caused him to lose his head. Three female vampire fledglings could attest to that, if they were alive to speak. Whenever his former flame was near, he had a habit of doing things he’d later regret.

  Tonight, Pierre felt like a voyeur once again. He gawked at the female vampire as she shackled her disobedient sub to the wall, then beat him with a whip, and stole his precious blood. It reminded him of years passed, when he and Anaïs would roam the streets of Paris in search of willing prey. Even then, he’d loved to watch her seduce helpless human victims. More than a century later, it was still the biggest turn on of his life.

  Yet at the same time, seeing Anaïs screw another man’s brains out made jealousy and rage bubble up inside of him. His blood boiled and his eyes narrowed as their color shifted from deep brown to crimson red. Pierre wanted to wrench Oliver Polinski by his chains, then sink his fangs into his pulsing jugular and end his miserable life. The man didn’t deserve to live, not after the insult he’d caused Pierre by toying with his mate. He intended to kill the bastard. But first, he needed to get Anaïs alone somewhere; if he didn’t tie her up and fuck her senseless, then another bloody, dismembered newborn would soon litter the New York streets.

  How can I possibly get Anaïs alone when Polinski won’t let her out of his sight?

  Suddenly, Pierre had an idea. Flagging down the waitress who nudged her way through through the crowd serving blood out of test tubes, he flashed the petite brunette a sexy half-grin. He was handsome and irresistible, he knew. With his dark eyes and obsidian locks tied back with a simple leather strap, the young female vampire doling out drinks couldn’t turn him down, no matter how hard she tried.

  “Can I get you anything, sweetie?” the woman asked, batting her eyelashes at him flirtatiously.

  Pierre’s grin widened, turning into a full-blown smile. His hand snaked out and wrapped around to squeeze her plump ass cheek. “I’ll take two of those,” he said as his eyebrows rose in expectation. He’d carefully chosen his words so that the waitress wasn’t sure if he referred to her derrière or the vials of blood she held. Then he set a hundred dollar bill on the tray she balanced in the center of her palm. “But I’ll need another favor first.”

  “Sure. I’m yours to command.” Her eyes widened in surprise as she focused on the generous tip he’d left her.

  “There’s a man near the bar dressed as a sub. He’s got a cell phone in the back pocket of his jeans.” Pierre pointed in Oliver’s direction. A few minutes earlier, he’d spied Anaïs and two other women headed toward the ladies’ room. It was either now or never. “I need that phone, but you’ll have to be discreet. He’s here with some fairly shrewd vamps.”

  “Watch this,” the waitress said with a wink. Moving through the mass of sweaty, sex soaked bodies, she gently bumped people out of her path. “Excuse me. Excuse me,” Pierre heard her say.

  From Pierre’s location in the rear right-hand corner of the club, he could see the entire exchange. The cocktail server smiled as she approached the two men hovered over the small round table enjoying a round of drinks; one of them held a glass filled with what appeared to be whiskey while the other downed a shot of plasma.

  With the skill of a master thief, the woman pawned the cell phone out of Oliver’s back pocket, apologizing profusely for knocking into him and spilling a drink onto his bare back. She slipped the phone into the apron tied to her waist, then grabbed a handful of napkins to wipe away the red streak dripping down his spine before continuing on her way.

  Well done. Well done indeed, Pierre thought to himself. The only thing left to do was prepare the room where he’d carry out Anaïs’s much anticipated torture.

  Chapter Thirteen

  The Cooling Off Period

  Anaïs followed the twins into the ladies room. While they both used the facilities, she, on the other hand, hugged the rim of the sink. Her breath quickened as sweat from her latex cat suit stuck to her flushed skin. Tu
rning on the faucet, she splashed cold water onto her face and tried to calm down. In the background, Savannah and Sienna’s soft giggles barely registered in her mind. If they’d been talking to her, she hadn’t heard a word the blonde bimbos had said.

  Her thoughts were preoccupied with Oliver and the performance they’d given for a room full of sick, sadistic vampires.

  Never in a million years would Anaïs have expected to find a man quite like Oliver Polinski. One minute, he’d shackled her to a bed and played her body like a fiddle. Then next, he let her serve as Dom to his uber-obedient sub. The whole fiasco with Pierre had only been a convenient excuse, she knew. She’d let Oliver weasel his way into her panties because that was exactly where she’d wanted him. Hell, they’d only had intercourse once. Yet those fifteen minutes plastered against the wall of the club had been the most intense she could have ever imagined.

  But it wasn’t only the mind-blowing sex they’d shared. The emotions Oliver brought out of her had been buried deep. With him, she felt safe, yet vulnerable. Powerful, but not quite strong enough to make him bend to her will. He made her feel things she hadn’t experienced in centuries, the consequences of which forced her to re-think the course of her life.

  On the outside, Anaïs’s outer shell was as hard as nails. Inside proved to be a whole different story. In fact, she was an emotional wreck. Preying on men, especially those who reminded her of her loathsome patriarch, had become a coping mechanism, a twisted method she’d employed to ensure that no one ever got too close. It was a character flaw, she knew, but one she couldn’t cut loose.

  Somehow, Oliver had begun to break down the barriers she’d built. He pushed the boundaries, threatening to breach her stone cold heart. Day after day, he demolished the walls that took lifetimes to construct. The ones that kept people out and that attacked those who dare tried to bridge them.

  Again, Anaïs’s instincts told her she should flee. Get away from Oliver before things got out of hand. With her departure, Pierre would disappear back into the shadows as well. At least, that’s what her head told her she should do. Her heart, on the other hand, nagged at her to stay, face her demons, and see how everything would turn out with Oliver.

  Run, you coward, Anaïs screamed to herself.

  The words reverberated in her head the moment Anaïs heard Bobby’s girlfriends exit the bathroom stalls. She stared into the mirror and smiled back at them, shattering the myth that vampires had no reflection. Then she grabbed a paper towel from the dispenser to dry the dripping water from her cheeks, and stepped out of the way to let them use the sink.

  “You okay? You look a little pale,” Savannah asked her, lifting the back of her hand to Anaïs’s forehead.

  “Sis, leave her be,” Sienna said as she swatted her sibling’s hand from the vampire’s face. “Can’t you tell she’s just trying to get her bearings? After the show the two of them put on out there, she needs a few minutes to settle back down.”

  “Sienna’s right. But thanks for the concern,” Anaïs said while she smoothed down the frazzled curls that sprang from her scalp. Then she undid the zipper above her right hip and took out the vial of lip gloss she’d kept hidden there. She applied a thin sheen to her lips, then shoved the tube back into her pocket.

  At the same time, Anaïs felt her cell phone vibrate. She pulled it out and glanced at the display. Oliver had sent her a text message.

  Ha! He can’t stand being away from me for long.

  “Speak of the devil,” Anaïs said with a shake of her head. “Oliver just sent me a text. He wants me to meet him in some room. Have either of you heard anything about the Tunnel of Torture?”

  “Oh, kinky. But I’m not surprised after what we witnessed before.” Savannah sported a wide, school girl grin.

  Sienna shot her sister an irritated scowl, the shoved her to the side with a slight push of the hand. It was clear, Savannah had a case of diarrhea of the mouth and it annoyed the hell out of her twin.

  “Let me apologize for my sister’s insensitivity. She’s a reporter. She’s used to cutting straight to the chase. The Tunnel of Torture is one of three private rooms tucked into the back of the club. We’ve never been inside. But if the rumors are true, some hard core masochistic shit goes down within those four walls.”

  “Really?” Again, Oliver was full of surprises. His ingenuity never ceased to amaze her. “Okay, well it appears I might be tied up for the next few hours. If I don’t see you gals later, it was nice meeting you both.”

  “Nice to meet you too, sweetie. I’m sure we’ll see each other again soon.” Both women approached her. They wrapped their arms hesitantly around her shoulders in an awkward sort of embrace. Anaïs’s body stiffened, not prepared for the unsolicited contact perpetuated by the hug. Nonetheless, she smiled and patted each woman on the head before they moved toward the door.

  Upon exiting the restroom, the twins turned right and disappeared back into the crowd. Anaïs went left into the dark recesses of the club. At the end of a long, windy hallway, three doors stood side by side. The one in the middle had the words Tunnel of Torture etched with gold leaf in the center. Above the door knob, there was a keypad. A series of digits needed to be entered in order to gain access to the room. Luckily, Oliver had included the secret code in his text.

  Anaïs punched in the numbers and heard the lock click. She shoved open the door, which expanded into a small waiting room. A table and chair had been set against the wall. Walking toward the table, she noticed a piece of stationery placed on the edge. She picked up the page and read the typed message.

  Welcome to the Tunnel of Love.

  Go inside. Then slip on the blindfold and chain yourself up.

  I’ll be there soon.

  On the far side of the room, there was another door. This one had been forged with solid, reinforced steel. If her theory proved true, it’d be sound proof too. Her hands pushed against the heavy metal, slowly forcing the door ajar until she could slide through the crevice she’d made.

  Once inside, Anaïs had to duck down and almost crawl through the low-lying rock that served as a makeshift ceiling. It was made of what appeared to be red desert rock, with shards of cone-shaped stalactites that hung from above. Soon the tunnel unfurled into a spacious, torch lit cavern. Whips and chains of all shapes and sizes dangled from hooks chiseled into the stone. A twelve foot by fifteen foot wire cage sat in its center, with what appeared to be an archaic guillotine perched inside it on the floor.

  Her pussy clenched at the thought of what Oliver would do to her, chained to the contraption with her thighs spread wide. Thinking about it made her loins burn with the anticipation of his greedy, demanding touch.

  Anaïs straightened her posture. Then she unpeeled the cat suit plastered to her skin and hurled it to the ground. She wore nothing at all underneath, and the cool temperature in the room caused her flesh to form goose bumps, including on the tips of her breasts.

  As Anaïs moved within arm’s distance of the cage, she saw a swath of red silk material fastened to its barbed wire entrance. She untied the soft cloth and carried it with her inside, spying the guillotine up close. It was made of deep, rich mahogany. Two curved pieces of wood had been set at eye level, crafted to cradle a human’s delicate head. Above that, a sharp blade was kept suspended in midair with the help of a heavy weight and pulley system.

  With this monstrous apparatus, Oliver could definitely wear me out.

  Anaïs stepped up to the guillotine and arranged her body between the two rigid planks. In that position, the naked flesh of her derrière was arched toward the ceiling as if it were being offered up as a sacrifice to the gods. She slipped one wrist into an iron shackle, then used the other to drape the blindfold over her eyes, and secure it at the back of her head. Finally, she slid her second wrist into place and took a deep breath.

  Minutes ticked by as she prepared herself for Oliver’s arrival. The wait turned out to be pure torture. Anaïs’s nipples inadvertently rubbed aga
inst the metal hardware that had been used to assemble the contraption. The twin mounds dangled in the air, chafing their taut peaks with each agonizing shift of her weight. The draft from the air conditioner whipped across them too, causing a reaction to detonate inside her womb. Her clitoris throbbed as the cooling system rattled and hummed. She wished she could reach down and relieve the ache between her legs.

  Damn it! That bastard better get here soon.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Tunnel of Torture

  “I’m gonna step outside and take this call,” Bobby said, staring at the screen on his cell phone. “It’s Andreas. Keep an eye out for the twins, if you would.”

  “Sure. Not a problem,” Oliver replied as he stuck his hand behind him, cupping the back pocket of the jeans he wore in search of his own phone.

  Shit! The blasted thing was gone. He must’ve dropped it while Anaïs had him distracted. Without a doubt, their sexual escapade had rocked him to the core. But now wasn’t the time to reminisce. Pushing the memory of the interlude to the back of his mind, he made a b-line through a throng of bloodsuckers. Eventually, he found the spot where his lover had left him tied up. He scanned the floor and felt around in the darkness, but came up empty handed. He’d lost it; it was nowhere in sight. But who could blame him for misplacing his cell phone? God knows, he’d been otherwise preoccupied.

  Resigned to the fact that’d it be difficult to locate the device in the dreary interior of the club, Oliver strode back toward the table. In mid-stride, he inadvertently bumped into Savannah and Sienna.

  “Hello ladies,” he yelled over the sharp beats of the music. He put his hand to his ear, gesturing that the vampire had left to talk on the phone. “Bobby’s out front chatting to Andreas. Where’s Anaïs?”