Page 6 of Cryptic Dreams
I look around and see much the same: various members of the Counsel, upper class vampires both feared and loved, title holders as well as old money fucking and feeding from the scum that makes up a majority of the city that is rightfully ours. Rightfullymine.
Moans and whimpers.
Grunts and groans.
All of which turn into shrill screams and panicked pleas as my kind give in to their baser instincts and begin to feed on thefanger bangersthat were all too easily swayed to come here tonight. Sheep lead to slaughter by a wolf in designer clothing.
My plan is unfolding beautifully.
Soon enough, those of my kind will drain their partners, suck them dry, leaving nothing but a shell behind; and when they’ve had their fill, that’s when they’ll feel the effects of the human drugs.
My coven will get so ripped out of their skulls that they will inevitably pass out, only to wake when the VSUST break down the doors to discover a body count that rivals most natural disasters, and the DNA all over the elite members of our society will seal their fate.
And yours truly will come out completely unscathed, all traces of my involvement like ashes in the wind. My personal guests will be found alive and well, and I will be resting peacefully at my private residence.
Hands clean.
Conscience, clear.
My end goal that much closer to becoming a reality.
Which reminds me…
I glance at the clock on the wall and decide my guests have waited long enough. It’s time to give myself the most perfect alibi by sneaking away before the real action begins, stealing myself in my room at the nest where I can be blissful in my lack of ignorance to the goings on.
I turn back to the ornate door, a sick smile touching my lips. It is a smile of smug satisfaction that almost has me giggling with glee.
I do notgiggle, however. I barely even chuckle or laugh. It’s not really something I do, and if I did, I imagine it would be so unsettling, so laced with evil it could hardly be considered joyous.
I am not truly evil, though. I’m merelymotivated by dark intent for the greater good.
I push into my room, lock the door behind me, and as I turn, my nostrils flare.
The citrusy scent of anxious anticipation hits first, followed closely by the almost floral scent of excitement, and the tangy fragrance of arousal. Two erratic heartbeats meet my ears, the rush of blood flowing inside two bodies primed for whatever comes next, and when my unfazed stare lands on the first very eager participant, approval—though slight—swells inside of me.
The female’s eyes are downcast, staring intently at the floor just as I instructed, but I can tell she is dying to look up, to see what I have in store for her next. The ball gag is secure, almost too tight in her thin-lipped mouth and it’s mussed the once perfect chignon she wore a mere few hours ago. Her chest rises and falls in quick spurts, breasts straining against the rope that binds them so tightly, the rope wrapped around each like a vice and scraping her light mocha skin.
She is shackled to the elevated whipping bench, her wrists cuffed to the legs in front that extend to the floor, ribs smashed to the armrest in a way that makes her breast-bindings more uncomfortable. Her body is bent at the waist and knees, her ankles also shackled to the bench and bound together so tight the bones touch. And despite how much her position pleases me, the sight that has my cock swelling behind the fly of my trousers are the multiple welts that bloom over her flesh. Those marks made by the whip and barbed cat-o-nine tails I was using prior to taking a break in our session are a thing of beauty all on their own.
I grin as I watch her try to prevent herself from moving, as she tries to keep at bay the desire to look, to watch—something I will be rewarding her with momentarily.
The second heart begins to thunder as the silence continues and my eyes flick to the other body, the male perched on all fours on top of my table, both parallel to the female. Still in position so they both can eagerly watch whatever it is I choose to do with their partner.
He sees nothing now though. Sees nothing, hears nothing. The mask I placed on his head before I went out to the balcony covers his eyes and ears completely, depriving him of his two most vital senses.
I step further into the room, my own arousal growing as I take in the strict body harness he’s wearing, the straps set as tight as they will go, each pulled firm enough to bite into his bronzed flesh. He is still fully erect, the cock ring portion of the harness squeezing his balls in a way that should nearly prevent his ability to becomethataroused.
Which proves I chose well tonight.
It is important to me that my submissives be entirely committed to our encounter, and he is confirming that tenfold.
My footsteps are slow, methodical, and intentional as I move toward him, the action something he is oblivious to, though his partner is not. And yet she still does not look up.
If I wasn’t about to blow this nest wide open with my heinous plan, I may have proposed a more permanent arrangement between myself and the recently engaged couple. Perfect little subs, so eager to please their master after only one meeting.
Too bad.
Perhaps I’ll keep the phone number the female gave me just in case.
