As I've said before ...this is NOT Phantom. This is the World of Darkness. The main character, Meuric, is inhuman. You'll be hard pressed to find any redeeming human qualities. He isn't cruel for the sake of being cruel, or for pleasure. It's all for psychology, and psychoanalysis, in which he has a cold, cynical and detached interest.
This is one of six; also, please observe the rating. Thanks! Again athanks to my beta; SunandShadows.
"So. When will I get to see you?"
Tauntingly the cursor blinked upon the screen. My fingers were frozen. That question again. While I wanted to answer, I was afraid. How long had I known this man? This charming person upon the other end of the computer? Sometimes it seemed the other side of the world. Perhaps it was time for this meeting to come true. For the past six months I have known him over the Internet. Pictures swapped, numbers called. Many a night we've spent talking until near dawn, then his words "I have to sleep" leaving a sinking feeling in my stomach. How I hated those four words. It was time.
"How about this week?" I typed, and waited with bated breath for his next line. I was rewarded with the tubular chime of the instant message screen as the words popped up:
"How about we meet somewhere? A surprise meeting. You know of The Devils Rim?"
Did I ever! I blinked slightly. Had he been to my city before, without my knowing about it? Was he here now? I had to wipe my hands upon the cloth of my nightclothes to dry them again before my nails tapped over the keys.
"In the North End? Boston? I know where that is. I used to go there every other weekend."
A pause. A chime. "Excellent! How about July 3rd, then? Not too long after sunset. Lets say… eight-ish."
I had to laugh. What a perfect day. "My birthday? How sweet." Truly it didn't faze me any that it was Independence Day weekend. I lost the urge to see Black Cats and Snakes when I was ten years old. "We'll meet then. I'm curious as to how my new lover will be in person." I couldn't help but grin. I recalled often coming to a dizzying climax to the growled tone of his voice urging me on. It almost made me shudder to think I was going to hear it in person. My online and phone lover knew how to talk dirty and I loved it.
"LOL Lover, hm? We'll see, darlin'. We'll see. Maybe I'll steal you away for the full weekend and we'll make some of our own fireworks."
"Tease."
"Mm... And then some. Until tomorrow, babe. Rest well."
It was interesting how we met. I had always said I would never fall into an online relationship. That the men over the Internet were all fat and balding with hair sprouting in places that was not genetically possible. Something about him, though… Something drew me to him. Perhaps because he was a different nationality. Romanian. Or his strange, yet interesting name: Meuric. I could not figure out why for the life of me, but I knew I wanted him. Not only as a lover; as I got to know him, he became much more: a friend, a confidant.
It took only a moment to search for the picture of him that I had stored away. Double clicking upon it his image was brought up, half filling my screen. I smiled. He was a handsome man. More so than anyone I have ever seen before. He had what my mother would call 'kissable lips'. His build was that of a swimmer: broad shoulders, tapered waist, not too muscular, yet not skinny. And his hands… Dear Lord, I had always wondered how they would feel upon my body. This next day or so was going to be murder. Idly I wondered if I had enough D cells to spare.
The Devils Rim is a club for those who have specific tastes. Specifically, the desire to dominate, or be dominated, and occasionally both. It is well done, not seedy like some of the clubs in other places across the world, but classy. The best of "the life" are drawn to it, to taste its textures slowly, night after night. I was among them that last eve… roaming the catacomb hallways, watching the freaks, the beasts, and the beauties in their indulgence of self. It is a basic need they each fulfill, if in a way known only to themselves, and if they are lucky, their partners.
This was where we were to meet. Thankfully, the week had passed quickly, uneventfully. There was only one night to go, and I was so anxious that I had to go out. I traveled the throng that night, the night I believed I would remember forever. My gaze searching, always roaming, looking for that familiar face.
I passed a strikingly handsome man dressed in an expensive, tailored suit. At the moment I stepped past him he was hung in suspension by silk ropes, crying like a babe, begging to be touched by a rather plain-looking woman wearing a leather brassiere. A dramatic looking blonde with oversized tits stood in a corner, and a beautiful raven-headed woman knelt before her, licking beneath the edges of her skirt, it appeared, her inky curls wound in slender fingers, delicate, harsh. The mingled tan and cream of their skin seemed starkly impressive. I smiled. Turning a corner, I skirted around a few men who wore black suits of some quality, vicious looking whips coiled into their manicured hands. One of them reached out for me without a second thought, and though I smiled, I evaded his touch, and he did not pursue it.
Each of the main rooms had a theme of sorts, round and without the need of corners to hide in. Draped in velvet or black silk, white cotton, or stone masonry along the walls. Every scent you can imagine, and some of those which you cannot unless you have been to the Rim, with its careful ambiance. It is the only carefully done thing within the club. I am willing to bet that everything else operates on pure instinct. I have taken friends of mine to this club of clubs, and watched the tame release before a hundred eyes, and never look back. Wild women in tight leather succumb and in the next scene they wear pink satin thongs and carry drinks on their knees. Nothing is more or less real than when the Devil has you. The devil had me this night, and I was looking for his son. That was how I saw Meuric sometimes. A fallen angel saying the right things to get a Godly creature to descend with him. How happily I would accompany him to that hell.
Settling on one of the long, thick couches that seemed everywhere, I lifted my heels and turned about to lie out on its softness. That's one great thing about the Rim; no one cares if your posture is anything more than enticing. I could feel the eyes. The stares of passion or lust, curiosity or tentative submission, roaming over my length, lean, dark hair fanning out over pale skin. The black silk shift not truly telling the tale. Was I a Domme, looking for a puppy boy? A sub, seeking a night of chains in the dungeons beneath the main rooms? Everyone has a story. Some of us have two.
With an air of indifference, though I was innately interested, I watched the myriad of scenes being played out around me. I almost laughed outright as the man I had glimpsed earlier in the hallway came by on his knees, led by his tie, which was all he had left on of that exquisite suit; his length half-swollen and hanging between his thighs uselessly as he whimpered. He was most likely a powerful man in his life beyond the arched doorway of the Rim. Here he was slave. So should he be. Here, people were what gave them the most. Not necessarily pleasure. It is not strictly about pleasure, you know. But there are voids within us all that ache to be filled. The people of the Devil's Rim fill those aches nightly, and create new ones in their wake. All in all, it is enticing and erotic, addictive if you are not careful. Better than any designer drug because of the endless variation.
Rather lost in my thoughts, I stretched suddenly, lifting my arms and letting the taut muscles come to a softer hue, and much to my surprise, I found my hands caught, beyond the periphery of my view, above my head as I lie there on the couch. I let the grip tighten about my wrists and did not move beyond the slow rise and fall of even breath.
"Aren't you going to struggle?" His voice was neither deep nor light, common, but with a timbre that seemed smooth, as if he might have been a singer at one point in his life.
"No," I said. "What point is there in struggling? You obviously have me right where you want me."
"True," came his reply, "but there is nothing more exquisite than a woman when she struggles, when she fights against her nature in my hands."
His fingertips slipped along my jaw. I still could not see him, but his touch was sensuous, probing beneath the shelf of my chin and against the pulse at my throat, and then without a single, uttered warning, squeezing, cutting off my air. I struggled then, anger rising up within me, welling up from the very pit of my being, and I fought that touch, his laughter brought me to stillness.
"Good. Very good… See…? You are exquisite. I knew it the moment I saw you lying here."
Breath! I could breathe once more, his fingers once more softly rubbing over my flesh, gentle circles played along the column of my throat and neck, I could feel the warmth of his breath, quicken against my hair. I started to sit up, indignant, and found he still hand my hands most effectively pinned above me. I tried to turn my head, to see this assailant, and saw nothing.
"Ah-ah-ah." I froze in place. "I did not tell you that you could look at me, little Dominya." My heart leapt into my throat and I coughed. Dominya was my online name. It was him. It could be no other. I believe my lashes fell.
"Bastard."
"And then some." An affirmation that he had just begun, I knew it well. His fingers wove their way into the thickness of my hair, stroking it so lightly it made me shiver, and then lifted me, by the very roots themselves. The hard tug sending the shudder to my toes, he drug me from the couch, still on my back, my heels hit the floor, and I struggled to my feet.
I could feel myself against the denim pants he wore, the back of my head drawn to their fly, both of his hands now holding me bent so far backwards that I continuously lost my balance and slipped, the high-heeled shoes I wore scraping against the stone floor. Finally I understood and stilled, letting him catch me against his feet, and hanging from his fingertips, he pulled me up so gently to my own, setting me back against his chest, before him. I was beginning to wonder if he was ugly and that was why he hid behind me, afraid of being rejected, but in truth I didn't think so. No. It couldn't be that at all. He had seen my picture before and commented that I was a gorgeous woman. Perhaps he didn't look like the picture he sent me.
I stood there and waited, listening to the rhythmic beating of her heart, tainted with excitement, fear... lust. Mortal emotions are often driven by the most interesting of things. Driven either to a long future or a most untimely demise. When it is I that steps into the picture, it is more often the latter. I wore my 'male facade' tonight, the same skin that I wore when I sent the woman my picture. These features seemed to be most desirable. Meuric was the name I had chosen, similar to my name of birth. Brazenly she moved, lowering her hand to slide against the crux of my thighs, caressing a deadened groin. A soft sound came to her throat, of surprise. Meuric was also well endowed.
"Must we stay here?" Her voice was husky, low. It reminded me of Mother's before I ripped her vocal cords from her body. She did not need them, after all.
"The crowd disturbs you? It excites me. To think... Mm..." The correct subtle hints were dropped, having her think that I could and would possibly do what I wished to her right on the couch in the middle of the crowd. After all, this place was drawing by the walking hard-ons of society. I set a growled tone to my voice as her fingers caressed a slow stroking glide along my crotch. It did nothing, really; but the act would not be properly set if I had no reaction.
"No... no. But I..." she was grasping for straws, trying to figure out some way to make me agree with her to take her elsewhere. It was no matter. I had already decided. "..I can barely hear you in here." Ah, the most common of things. I was beginning to get disappointed. Perhaps this hunt would turn out to be not quite as I wished. I would not give up so soon, though. Maybe the lovely would prove to be a most pleasing specimen after all. I lowered my head to the side of her neck, laying a warmed kiss upon the curve of her throat, the press of my tongue feeling the rapidly beating pulse. Vitae tasted much more pleasing when it was tainted with arousal or terror. The amount of adrenaline within gave it such a sweet taste, as well as an indescribable tang.
"You wish to go now?" The words were broken by the faintest trails of tongue's tip along her flesh, bathing a warmth of evenly paced breaths.
My heart was in my throat by time he spoke those words. His every touch, that voice! It sent tingles from head to toe, back again, and then laid to rest in all the most delicious spots. I squeezed my hand against his groin, and the sound he gave caused my toes to curl. I wanted him, badly. Even if I believed it would hurt. He was no small man to say the least. And I'm not a grand canyon. I could hardly contain the shake in my voice. "Y-yes. We can take my car, if you wish."
"Perfect," he said. I could feel his smile along the side of my neck. I tried to turn, but his hand held me fast, fisted within my hair. It was driving me mad! Held thus, he proceeded to lead me in the direction of the door, casually weaving around flog-bearing dominants, and leash-in-the-teeth toting submissives. Normally I had precise control of myself, but I couldn't help feeling like one of those men or women, carrying a bit of leather between my jaws. A few had cast glances in our direction, but since there was no nudity or a beating commencing, they looked away, returning to their respective victims for the night. Even when we had gotten outside he didn't let go of my hair, and purposely turned my head in a direction where his profile couldn't be seen.
"Where's your car?" I couldn't speak, and so I only lifted my hand, pointing to the tan suburban that was parked across the lot. Using the hand within my hair he guided me along in the direction of the vehicle, pressing me toward the driver's side. I almost staggered in my step when I felt the warmth of his mouth against the lobe of my ear. The groan that was pulled from my mouth was hardly shielded. I began to wonder what he was thinking. Would he wonder if I was someone who did this often, meeting people offline for what would seem was only sex? That wasn't the only thing I wanted from him. Oh, don't get me wrong - I do, I also wanted to know him, the real him. Not just someone I met time after time online.
"Don't move," he said, but a whisper against my ear. Lifting my hands I placed one against the Suburban while the other dug blindly down into my clutch. Pressing the button that would unlock the doors I heard a tapping upon the side door, and pressed one more button. The slider opened, and he climbed within. Sneaky prick. He wasn't going to let me see him at all. I had to admit that was arousing in itself. Climbing within the large vehicle I settled back, refraining from looking in the rear view mirror. With the engine started and both doors closed I began to drive. Where? I wasn't too sure. The only thing I was sure of was the fact that I was going to need a change of clothes for these ones were just about soaked through.
I tried to look back into the mirror, but it seemed he knew exactly what I was doing, and chastised me each time. I was beginning to become irritated, but couldn't help but be drawn into the intrigue. We drove for a while, going from the coast to a more forested area. We soon came to a gravel road and what looked to be a ranch. "Drive up to the gate," he said. "It will open by itself." I nodded, lost in the sights that surrounded me, the darkness, the looming house off at the end of the gravel road. I thought I saw a dog or two wandering the lot, but I wasn't really sure.
Truthfully... all of this was making me just a bit nervous.
