this story contains EXPLICIT ADULT MATERIAL. if you don't like it or you are underage - don't even start reading!

Please note that English is not my native language.

So far I only read until about halfway through eclipse, the 3rd twilight novel. The plot of the novels is not important for my story though.

For those of you who are not familiar with Rosalie Hale yet: she is a character of the twilight series (I don't own the series or the characters etc) and simply the "most beautiful person on earth". She is also a vampire, lusting after human blood but refraining out of respect for humans.

Rosalie's night out

Chapter 1

Rosalie was speeding south down the highway; she had left the tiny city of Forks behind many hours ago. What she desired she would never find in Forks. Probably not in the whole state of Washington. She was up to something she would find only in a big city, only in the filthiest moloch. She smiled to herself in anticipation. She loved her fast red convertible BMW, but for the occasion she was driving Carlisle's black Mercedes. She had briefly considered asking Alice for her brand new yellow Porsche. But she had quickly dropped the thought. Although her own red sports car suited her best, the occasion required something a little bit more unobtrusive, being more respectable and mysterious than her attention seeking convertible. Besides, Carlisle never asked questions. In their almost seventy-year-long friendship he had always been most discreet. He must have his suspicions, but he never asked. She could not be sure that nobody knew, but she was doing her best. Edward's mind reading abilities were most disturbing at times. She had developed the habit of restraining her thoughts when around him, although she didn't want to know if she was successful or not. She didn't care much anyway. She considered no one's opinion but her own in that respect. The only person she had ever considered confiding in was Emmett, whom everybody believed to be her loving husband and soulmate. But she and Emmett had made an agreement long ago and she had decided that he didn't need to know after all. Don't ask, don't tell was part of that agreement. And they both had stayed to their part of the bargain and had never revealed to anybody that their marriage bed had stayed cold, had they the need to sleep in one at all.

The bright city lights appeared out of nowhere in the darkness. She felt her icy body temperature rising, or maybe her mind was just playing a trick on her. She sped through the suburbs and residential areas to the industrial zone by the docks. These days more and more artists were inhabiting the huge industrial areas, turned into apartments and the district had developed something of a nightlife, much to Rosalie's dismay. Sixty years ago, nobody had cared about these industrial buildings, nobody but the workers and factory owners. She had seen the potential of the warehouse; it had been exactly what she was looking for. She had asked Carlisle for money, back then she had had no idea how to come up with enough money to buy a warehouse and have it renovated. Carlisle had asked no questions and she was sure he forgot all about it in the decades to come. She parked her car and stepped out into the foggy unlit square in front of her warehouse. She took out her huge keychain, (she always felt like a janitor each time she used it). She unlocked the huge iron chain with care and found the electric power unit easily. Her eyes were adjusted to the darkness and she knew her house intimately. The huge elevator sprang to life and carried her up several stories to the top floor and heart of her warehouse: the loft.

She stepped out of the elevator and flicked the button. With a crack the lights went on. She inspected the loft, its high ceilings, the expensive yet understated furnishing. The kitchen in the one corner was just a prop, yet she stored a few groceries that stayed good for a long time. Cans and some drinks, just in case. The bathroom, the only part she had separated with walls, was almost entirely designed out of black shale and modern brushed silver fittings. Everything else was left as one big room, expansive, but not uncosy. She knew that was important for what she was up to. Almost in the centre of the room, dominating the scene stood a giant bed. Japanese style, just a black frame and a huge California king size mattress. She took a fresh set of anthracite sheets from the walk-in closet and spread it on the bed. The mandatory black leather couch opposite the kitchen corner had been one of her very first acquisitions. When she bought it in the late 40s she had imagined spending hours after hours on it. She chuckled to herself, neither the couch nor the lounge area had ever been used. In awe she let her eyes wander over the gadgetry along the backwalls. These had certainly been used over the decades. She noticed a fine layer of dust on top of everything, it had been a while since her last visit. She gave the whole apartment a cleaning, and thanks to her uebermensch movements the whole place was spotless again within minutes. Before she snapped the lights off and called for the elevator, she turned on the steam heating, she didn't want the loft to be cold when she returned.

Rosalie slowed down as she drove past the alley. The area had not changed much in 50 years. Still the same foggy appeal, most of the streetlights broken. A neighborhood with little residential quarters, deserted at nighttime; here the industrial part of the city met the shopping districts. She turned left and then she saw the silhouettes of the many figures in the darkness. She slowed the car further and scanned the area, driving in walking pace. Nothing in particular caught her eye. Faces flew by. Doubts vocalized in her mind. Maybe this was the wrong strategy for tonight. Maybe she should hit one of the numerous bars or a club? She would find was she was looking for, no doubt. But she was not up to all the talk. It had lost its appeal over the decades. The whole pre-prelude bored her endlessly. She would be patient. She would drive up the road until she found something that suited her. An obnoxious blonde stepped closer to the car and leaned forwards. Through the darkened glass of the Mercedes she would not be able to spot her immediately, Rosalie knew. The blonde leaned in and was about to form a kiss mouth when she caught a glimpse of Rosalie's blonde curls and her perfect perfect face, straight and symmetrical, her icy blue eyes and flawless mouth on the other side of the carglass. The blonde jerked back as if she had run into an electric cattle fence. Rosalie knew the reaction. Then the blonde's look turned angry, offended. She was assuming Rosalie to be an angry wife, or perhaps Rosalie an undercover police officer. Or worse yet – business competition. Rosalie knew that if she decided to get out of the car that nobody else on the sidewalk would stand only the slightest chance. But she was not here to sell. Rosalie came here strictly to buy.

The night with all its promises lay before her, still young. Numerous girls patrolled in front of her window now. Some had already heard the mutters, Rosalie could hear from inside the car. "It's a woman" and "No business, it's just a pussy". She searched the street with more than just her sense of vision, she was also scanning for alluring scents among the countless women walking the street.

After a patient hour of scanning something caught her attention. She traced a scentmark between all the others and it was most intriguing to Rosalie. Hidden in the shadows she only saw the vaguest flicker of straight black hair, a slim, mildly curved silhouette, not obnoxiously dressed in short synthetic material, but wrapped in an understated black coat, pale skin and high cheekbones flashing under the streetlight, almond eyes. She was exactly what Rosalie had been looking for. She soaked in her vision from the distance for a while and observed her as a limousine approached. She watched the woman walking over, reluctantly, almost bored. Then she leaned close to the passenger side window to talk to the driver. After a short negotiation the woman shook her head no and returned to her post in the shadows of the sidewalk. Rosalie liked what she saw and also what she had heard. The woman was unwilling to agree to the driver's demands to take her to his hotel suite. She had insisted that her services had to be be done on a nearby parking lot. Rosalie was beginning to truly enjoy this. She was not in a hurry. She watched the woman turn two other customers down from the distance, overhearing their conversations. The questions were always the same: what do you offer and for how much? The woman was only willing to deliver handjobs, no matter how much they offered her and only in the safe containment of the parking lot. She had her rules and Rosalie liked that. She slowly approached with the Mercedes. The woman didn't even bother gazing into the interiour, unlike her colleagues. The ever-same whispers again, "a woman", "ah, there's nothing to see here" and "go look for your own corner, lady!" Rosalie was used to that and it never ceased to amuse her. She drove up next to the woman, that was the sign for her to walk over to the car. She did, again, unimpressed by the apparent value of it. Rosalie liked that. The woman lowered herself towards the passenger's window. Rosalie let it slide down. Then she watched the other woman's face as the sudden recognition that she was not a male customer as expected became visible on her expression. "Good evening," Rosalie said politely. Then she did something she usually avoided, she got out of the car. She slid to the other side in a friction of a second and opened the codriver's door for the other woman, who eyed her suspiciously. They stood on almost equal footing, Rosalie only a few inches taller than the other. The asian woman searched for something in Rosalie's eyes. She was apparently unsure as to how to judge the situation. Then she relied on her instincts, or maybe her curiosity and got into her car, although that was a dangerous committment she would never have done with a man. Rosalie slid onto the black leather driver's seat. She waited for the woman to tell her her does and don't, but the black haired just looked at her out of the corner of her almond eyes. Rosalie liked that a lot. Some of the girls just rattled out a list of what they offered and how much they charged in less than a minute. But this one was different, with the patience of a spider she waited for Rosalie to come out, to name what she wanted and to get intagled into her net.

Rosalie had done this numerous times, at first she talked to the women and let them make an impression on her, some she kicked out again with a tip and a smile, but when the girl suited her she took her back to her loft. She was very choosy when it came to women. Nothing would turn her off like bad language or stupid giggles. Rosalie cleared her throat. She knew exactly what to ask for and was not ashamed of it. "I would like to take you to my apartment, is that possible?" The woman assessed her with her brown eyes. "That depends." she just let the words hover in the air. Rosalie was beginning to truly enjoy this. She seemed to have found a equal opponent, nothing was more boring than a weak prey, wiling to throw herself at her feet without a tiny bit of resistance. "On what?" The woman faced her now: "On your preferences". She wanted her more and more. "I am not interested in your pussy." She felt the other tightening in her seat, but only for the briefest moment, another human would not have noticed at all. "Mhm," she said matter of factly as if they were talking about cooking recipies. Rosalie could tell she was an expert negotiator and she felt on par with the human female. She wondered how the other would take her next request, considering that she had offered handjobs only to the men. "I am mostly interested in ass play." She swore she could see the tiniest tremble on the woman's lips before her buisness voice came through again. "That's possible. Anything else?" That woman knew how to play the game. "Do you do bdsm?" Another short pause, then the woman took a deep breath: "Active or passive?" Nice try, Rosalie thought to herself. Her answer didn't seem to surprise the woman in the least. "Passive". The woman's jaw was tensing briefly. She was probably considering the risk and her options.

Rosalie knew that she was discussing the pros and cons with herself right now. She might think about how she would not be in control of the situation as she was with her male clients. She would be in an unfamiliar surrounding, giving an unknown woman power over her. She would be considering the risk of a venture like that. Then she might consider that Rosalie had not asked about the price yet, usually a good sign that money was not an issue. Maybe she was in for the money. Maybe she had never had a female customer before. Rosalie was not kidding herself. She knew that she was definetely not the average customer. The little percentage of women seeking that kind of company at all would never search here of all places. The woman took a sharp intake of breath, "What did you have in mind?" From the sound of her voice Rosalie knew that some part of her counterpart was hooked, the discussion was almost turned in her favor. The other woman was curious and was seriously considering escorting her. Now she was valuing her level of involvement and probably tried to calculated a price. "Bondage, spanking, possibly flogging with a riding crop." "Do you want to use a cane? And what about marks?" The woman's voice sounded a little concerned now. "It's not a must. Not if you don't want to." She nodded. Rosalie continued: "I am not interested in watersports. No roleplay. Nothing extreme." the woman relaxed a bit into the seat. "What about bloodsports?" Something crept through Rosalie's eyes. She was well fed and not thirsty. It was the one thing she had to be extremely careful about. Human blood. She knew she would probably not be able to resist, once she saw a scarlet drop against the other's pale skin. The offer did seem a bit unconventional, she had never been willingly offered that. "I'd rather not." Rosalie stated, not without the tiniest bit of regret. "What about kissing?" the other asked. Rosalie took in the air sharply. Then considered for a moment. "No." She seemed almost disappointed. "There is one special request, though" The asian eyed her questioning. "I'd like to undress you. I know it's not customary. Would you mind?" Now the other smiled at her. "I don't mind that." Then, after a pause she added: "Fine then." "Excellent", Roslie countered. "How much would that be?" The woman hesitated. "It's four hundred dollars an hour" A very reasonable price. Rosalie had paid all kinds of prices in different currencies over the decades. The prices varied a lot. She had never negotiated, as she truly did not care about the money. "And for the whole night?" The woman cleared her throat. "One thousand five hundred" sounded like a bargain to Rosalie. She took out her wallet and had already taken out three neat stacks of hundred dollar bills when the woman surprised her. "You can pay me afterwards". Now, that was far more than uncommon. Rosalie would normally insist on payment in advance, the women were usually more relaxed then. She was definitely in for a very interesting night, she thought to herself.

They drove in silence and shortly Rosalie reached the warehouse. She didn't mind that the women knew where the loft was, she was not a permanent resident here and she met all the women exactely one time. No recurring visits, no emotional entanglement, no drama. The loft was nice and warm when she returned with her prey. She would feast on this woman and celebrate her body tonight.

"Can I offer you anything?"

"No. Just you" she purred and moved closer. Rosalie was not surprised by her straightforwardness. But she had other things in mind and kept her distance. "Please help yourself to the shower. I will watch you. Follow me!" she instructed.

If the woman was surprised, she did not show. Rosalie guided her to the bathroom. In front of the giant mirror, she started undressing her. The other still had her coat on. She revealed a light champagne colored dress underneath. Rosalie let it slip over her tiny shoulders and marvelled at her marble skin. No bra, just tiny white cotton panties. Rosalie had expected something more wicked, but she apprechiated the simple tastefulness. Then she spotted the tattoo stretching over her back. Tasteful as well. The other did not take her eyes of Rosalie through the mirror. She doesn't know what to make of the situation... Rosalie almost snickered to herself. She slid down the white panties and revealed a hairless smooth pussy. She tied the other's hair up in a knot and gestured to the shower. "Go ahead. And don't even think about putting on a show. I just want to watch you taking a shower" The asian nodded. Rosalie pulled a chair next to the open shower, she dropped her jacket on the floor and sat and watched. "The only thing I want to know beforehand is your name" she ordered. The girl chuckled, then turned on the water. She let a steady trail of hot water run down her back before she answered.

"Ayamé."

"Where did you have that work done?" Rosalie gestured towards the tattoo.

"I though you only wanted to know my name beforehand" Ayamé said mockingly. "That's the second question you've asked me now" she added with a smirk. Rosalie made a small clicking sound with her tongue. Then she smiled to herself. Ayamé knew the game. Maybe even as good as she herself did. She did not reply and leaned back, enjoying watching her in the shower, cleaning herself diligently. When she was done, Rosalie handed her a towel and led her back to the big room.

Her "gadgetry corner" included a saint andrew's cross, a strechingbench-rack with a nearby hoist mounted to the ceiling, and a small bench to kneel on. She ordered Ayamé to dry herself, then to get down on her knees and wait for her. She slipped away to change. Rosalie had never been a fan of the dominatrix unicode humans had adapted around her during the last twenty years. She preferred the high class variant: a black pencil dress and strappy high heels custom made by her favorite french manufactorer Loboutin. That was all she needed. No black leather armory, no overknee boots, just soft silk smoothing along her slender ivory skin. It did not miss the intended effect. As Rosalie approached the other looked at her in awe. Although Rosalie had not demanded roleplay, a short discipline drill was in order. But Ayamé was already on her knees, her dark nipples standing out and her black hair undulating over her shoulders and back. Without further instructions she bend over to kiss her mistress's shoes. It might even be honest pleasure Rosalie thought. She could not tell the difference anyway. "Do not forget the heels" Rosalie added just out of the sheer fun of maliciousness. Not that Ayamé had been negligent. Not at all.

She tightened the Louis Vuitton collar arround Ayamé's neck, then equipped her with padded leather wrist and ankle restraints. She felt her clit stiffening in anticipation. Ayamé looked at her rebelliously. Rosalie grabbed her by her long black hair and pulled her head back hard. She searched the others eyes for signs of reluctance. But there were none. "I will show you some respect, you bitch" Rosalie hissed and a moan escaped the other's lips. Rosalie let her hand gently caress the high cheekbones and soft skin of her lips. Then she started patting Ayamé's cheek lightly, then harder. She observed her features questioningly. Ayamé gave her the slightest nod. That was what Rosalie had been waiting for and with insistent force she slapped her cheek. Ayamé just made one short wheeze, before she composed herself again. Rosalie pulled Ayamé' close, who immediately nestled up against her. Rosalie face slapped her again, this time really hard. Only her tight grip around Ayamé's shoulder's kept her from falling. After the slap Ayamé nuzzled closer and pressed her head against Rosalie's shoulder. Rosalie held her close, taking in her scent, brushing her neck very slightly with her lips. "I've been wanting you to hold me since I first saw you" the other whispered into her ear.

Rosalie broke free and guided Ayamé to the bench. Wordlessly she instructed her to kneel on it and bent her body over it. She let her fingers explore the soft marble-like skin in front of her. She started spanking her gently, preparing the delicate flesh of her ass for more that was to come. She chose a leather belt for the warmup, wrapped the belt buckle around her hand and let the leather caress the skin. Until she took a big swing and let the leather crash down. Ayamé took in the air sharply, but did not make a sound. Rosalie liked it when the woman made an effort. It aroused her. She gave her twenty more light slaps with the belt, her bottom did not move or itch away. Her submission began to intoxicate Rosalie. For just a moment she let her instincts take control of her, as she flogged her hard and fast, four times. Designed to scare her bottom, but Ayamé did not flinch once. Her devotion aroused Rosalie tremendously and she had to step away from her and regain control. She watched the other's expression intentely. Ayamé did seem a bit concerned, but she hid it well. A tiny film of sweat wetted her was what Rosalie wanted to see and she surprised her by lowering her lips against her flesh and kissing her pain away with soft butterfly kisses. Ayamé thanked her with a soft moan.

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