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Scarlet's Game

Copyright © 2018 by J.S. Wayne
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof
may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever
without the express written permission of the author
except for the use of brief quotations in a book review or as

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Printed in the United States of America

First Edition Copyright 2018

ISBN 9780463535066

Smashwords Edition

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Scarlet’s Game

On a rainy October night, Scarlet and her succubus concubine Deidre set out to undermine the preternatural power structure of Portland, the Bridge City on behalf of their shadowy Master. Their intended target: the Hunter, Derek, whose mysterious and powerful Order polices the supernatural community. If they can entrap him with Deidre’s sexual sorcery, he will become a potent puppet in their bid to ascend to the apex of power within the city. If they fail, they may provoke a war among the supernatural factions of Portland. A single roll of the dice can maintain the status quo or herald its downfall, and determine the ultimate winners or losers of Scarlet’s Game…

Scarlet’s Game is not intended for decent people, minors, household pets, livestock, household appliances or anything whose name contains any vowel sound. This book contains graphic depictions of BDSM, roleplay, kink and fetishes among and between consenting adults above the age of majority. Some readers may find this material triggering. Readers are cautioned to expect anal play, bondage, Dominance and submission, simulated nonconsent, religious roleplay, post-orgasm play and FF/MM encounters.

Content Warning

This story is a work of fiction. It contains graphic depictions of BDSM dynamics between consenting adults, including but not limited to simulated nonconsent, bondage, impact play, anal sex, lesbian, gay and heterosexual sex acts, religious, vampiric and demonic play.

Readers are strongly cautioned to use their own best judgment as to whether any of the content described above might offend or trigger them in any way. This story is intended for the enjoyment of legal adults over the age of majority in their own jurisdictions and should not be provided to, shared with or viewed by minors or any person under the age of majority at any time or for any reason.

BDSM IS A HIGH-RISK ACTIVITY! It should never be undertaken without rigorous negotiation, explicit and enthusiastic consent, willingness to accept personal responsibility for the results and consequences of such engagement and appropriate training on the part of all parties involved. In the interest of your own health and safety, please do not attempt to replicate anything you read in this story without proper training and safety protocols in place.


Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve


About the Author

Other Books

Chapter One

As Deidre scuttled ahead of her, holding up the hem of her violent purple cloak to avoid stumbling over it or dragging it on the ground, Scarlet reflected the succubus could have been wearing a garbage bag and her ass still would have looked like a masterpiece sculpted in flesh. Suppressing a flicker of jealousy, she steered Deidre to the bar.

The bartender, a young guy in faded jeans and a plain white tee, long, dark hair pulled back and up in a messy man-bun and sporting the de rigueur hipster neckbeard, squinted up at them from behind Buddy Holly glasses. His expression melted from hopeful to sullen as he took them in.

"What can I get you?" His tone suggested he'd rather they both dropped stone dead than actually make him go to the immense effort of taking their order, underlain by an even less subtle subtext which all but shouted, Freaks!

Suppressing the urge to rip the dudebro's face off, Scarlet produced her debit card. "I'd like a glass of the house red, and she—" She inclined her head to Deidre. "—would like Amaretto on the rocks."

"That be all?"

Scarlet nodded. "Please keep our tab open. We're expecting someone soon."

"Twenty percent gratuity on tabs," the guy said, his expression daring her to make an issue of it.

"Fine," she said with a dismissive air.

The bartender picked up the card as though it was made of depleted uranium rather than plastic and shuffled over to the other side of the bar. In the relative quiet, she could hear him muttering to himself.

"Damn weirdos come out earlier every year, I swear."

He continued to grouse to himself as he poured the drinks, Scarlet watching intently to make sure he didn't do anything untoward with their beverages. Then he slouched back over to them and set the drinks down unceremoniously. "Here you go."

Scarlet took her wine, sniffed at it, raised it in a small, ironic salute, smiled to show her fangs, and took a dainty sip. Next to her, Deidre followed her motions, her sullen expression mirroring the bartender's. "Thank you," Scarlet said.

"No problem," the bartender answered, the jagged current of irritation in his speech and posture suggesting precisely the opposite.

Deidre opened her pert little rosebud of a mouth, undoubtedly to give the jerk a dose of his own poison. Scarlet shot her a warning look and shook her head meaningfully. Deidre subsided, taking another drink of her almond liqueur, and fell in behind Scarlet as she made her way to a corner table in a currently deserted part of the broad, open room. The two women sat, shoulder to shoulder so they could watch the comings and goings at the entrance.

"What an ass," she murmured.

"Remember our rules, Deidre," Scarlet said warningly. "If a scene needs to be made, Master will see it gets made. We are sworn to take no action which might reflect poorly upon him or the House."

Deidre reached up to stroke the leather choker at her throat, almost but not quite a proper collar, supporting the cunningly made black glass rose emblem of the House. Scarlet wore one as well, the leather more worn but otherwise identical in all respects. "I know," she said petulantly. Her face and tone faded to neutrality. "It's sometimes hard to remember."

Scarlet gave her a light peck on the cheek, relishing the warm smoothness of Deidre’s skin. "I know, my sister. But we have to trust Master's judgment and ensure our conduct reflects well upon Him at all times. It's not just His honor we hold, but our own."

Deidre sighed, shook her head and smiled.

"I'm hungry. It's making me a little irritable."

The low, sensual hunger in her eyes made Scarlet smile as well. "I know, little one," she said, stroking two fingers lightly over Deidre's free hand on the table. "I am too. But you also know we will feed well in the Master's own good time." She shook her head, indicating now was not the time for that conversation. "Tell me. What do you think of my plan to grow the House?"

Deidre giggled, her abrupt sunny disposition such a swift departure from her sullenness of only a moment before that Scarlet did a double-take. "I can't believe Master is going along with it. You know how He likes to be in control of these things. If the dice had fallen the other way, this evening would probably go very differently. As it is, I’m curious to see how this will play out."

Scarlet responded with a full-throated laugh. A group of college kids in green-and-yellow shirts and hats proclaiming their alma mater huddled around a pool table in the opposite corner turned to look at them, their mouths suddenly hanging slack as they took in the view of the women. She noticed, gave a dismissive little shooing wiggle of her fingers and adjusted the broad crimson strap over her left breast, careful not to let the underlying nipple play peek-a-boo so the boys could see. One of the boys, a portly young man with a broad, good-natured face, made a theatrical gesture as if shot to the heart, accompanied by snickering chuckles and low conversation. Scarlet had no need to hear the words to guess the content.

"This ridiculous outfit," she muttered to Deidre. "Remind me why I thought this was a good idea?"

Deidre took another mouthful of her drink, swallowed thoughtfully, and started ticking off points.

"First, we hunt tonight. Attractive bait always looks better. Second, it pleased Master when you suggested it." She paused. "Aren't those reasons enough?"

Scarlet frowned. "They are. I still wish I'd thought this through a bit more." Her ensemble consisted of a broad V of crimson satin which slashed down across her torso, between her thighs and back up again. She wore black pantyhose beneath, so as to minimize the chances of giving anyone an unexpected show of her more intimate bits, fuck-me heels the precise shade of her "clothing," and a black woolen cloak. Other than the collar, she looked the next best thing to nude. While she was thankful for the heavy cloak and the protection it offered from the late autumn chill, she wished it warded prying eyes as effectively.

"You wear it well," Deidre said. "I almost wish I'd done the same."

"My outfit screams ‘vampire,'" Scarlet pointed out. "Yours allows a bit more mystery."

Deidre thought that over for a moment. "Secrecy is key, right?"

"Exactly," Scarlet said, reaching over with her wineglass and giving Deidre's highball a clink. "Besides, with your curves, I'm sure you'll be attracting plenty of stares of your own." She leaned in close and whispered in Deidre's delicate-looking ear, smoothing away a tumbled strand of blonde hair. "I'd like nothing more than to eat you right here and right now."

Deidre blushed. "Would Master mind?"

Scarlet giggled. "I very much doubt it, but the bartender might." She tilted her chin back to indicate the man in question, who was leaning against the bar, peering in their direction as if waiting for them to give him a good reason to usher them into the street, gently or otherwise.

Deidre pouted. "Killjoy."

Scarlet reached over and tipped Deidre’s chin up with one finger, turning her head to face her fully. She pecked Deidre on the lips and said, "Don't worry, little one. Before this night is over, I'm sure we'll both get our fill." Scarlet licked her lips. Deidre's cornflower eyes widened, and she shivered a bit in anticipation.

"Are you sure you're okay with this?" Scarlet asked, her imperious facade slipping a little with concern. She held up one hand, fingers crossed. "I can still call the whole thing off."

Deidre shook her head. "No. I want this. It will please you and Master. And...I really do want it, Scarlet. I trust and love you both."

Scarlet opened her mouth to reply, but a cool blast of air rushed into the tiny alcove as the outside door opened and shut again. Footsteps sounded, drawing closer with the steady, precise cadence of the inevitable.

Scarlet grinned, uncrossed her fingers and drained her glass, laying her free hand on Deidre's exposed forearm.

"I think our dinner just arrived."

Deidre’s eyes widened in panic. “Do I look okay?”

Scarlet leaned close enough to brush her lips against Deidre’s ear and whispered, “To die for.”

Chapter Two

Scarlet watched as a man, clad from head to toe in black, prowled into the room, his posture erect and his carriage wary but relaxed. He wore a heavy leather coat with a flared cape depending from the shoulders, a hoodie, cargo pants and boots polished to a mirror finish. A large, broad-brimmed hat, pulled low over his ears, largely concealed his head and face.

Every line of his body projected the idea that danger walked in human form tonight.

The man strode to the bar without hesitation and had a murmured conversation with the bartender, whose face reddened and then quickly paled. He pointed over the newcomer's shoulder directly at their table. The hat bobbed in a curt nod. In contrast to the way the bartender had acted toward the women, he hurried to pour the man a generous glass of amber liquid, into which he plopped two ice cubes. The men exchanged a few more words, and the man in black raised his glass and took a sip.

Nodding his approval, he turned.

His face was largely unremarkable: square, with just a hint of middle-aged softness about the jawline. His nose was straight, with a slight bump as if it might once have been broken. A neatly trimmed beard framed his mouth, lending his face an angular aspect it might not have had otherwise. One might almost have called his face unprepossessing, had it not been for his eyes.

Even across the twenty-five feet of open hardwood between him and them, his blue eyes sparkled with a dangerous intelligence. Scarlet felt those eyes rake over her, then Deidre, leaving delicious heat in their wake.

He took a long look around the room, punctuated by quick double-takes, giving the impression of cataloging the precise position of everything and everyone in the room through the lens of a sniper’s scope. It wasn't exactly a hostile look, but she nevertheless felt a shiver of warning skitter up her arms as that impersonal frosted-fire gaze swung back to her.

As he came, the panels of his coat fell open, revealing a hint of a belly. He wasn't particularly tall, or heavy, or anything which would make him stand out in a crowd if he had been wearing regular clothing. But his bearing made him appear several inches taller and a good deal broader than he actually was, and he moved across the floor an oncoming storm sweeping over plains, implacable and unstoppable as the icy hand of Eternity made flesh.

If I had only my own appetites to consider, I could feed on him all night and drain him with the dawn's first light. But with Deidre involved, he would have to be preternaturally fortunate to survive until three a.m., Scarlet thought.

He stopped two paces from the table and gave a low bow while still keeping his eyes on both of them.

"Mistress Scarlet," he said formally. "Who is your lovely companion?"

Scarlet smiled. "This is Deidre, the most recent addition to my House. Deidre, this is Derek, Portland's Huntsman in residence, who should really need no introduction."

Deidre raised an eyebrow, the movement exaggerated enough to be visible even from the corner of Scarlet's eye. "And what does he hunt?"

Scarlet laughed. "He hunts us, dear Deidre."

Deidre's face collapsed into a tightly closed mask. "He doesn't look all that formidable."

"Deidre," Scarlet chided. "No need to be rude." She nodded regally at Derek. "After all, this is a peace summit."

Deidre murmured a halfhearted apology. Derek pulled a free chair out with a neat, economical motion and sat. At the pool table, one of the boys groaned loudly enough to reach across the bar. Derek's head swiveled around, finding the gawking man and pinning him with a cold gaze. The boy blanched and turned back to his game, his hunched shoulders telegraphing the idea he wouldn't dare look toward that table again even if the entire building caught fire and passing the Hunter was his only way out. His friends followed suit, uninterested in testing whatever they saw in Derek's face, no matter how attractive his table companions might have been.

The bartender rushed over with two fresh drinks for the women, set them down and departed without a word. Derek watched until he was back behind the bar, then turned, took a thoughtful sip of his whiskey, and said, "You know why we're here, Scarlet."

She laid her hand palm up on the table. "I'm not sure I do, Hunter."

He scowled. "Don’t play the innocent with me. There are bodies turning up, Scarlet, a few too many of them in your own backyard. The authorities are asking awkward questions." He took another drink. "You know as well as I do that the peace treaty can only hold as long as everyone behaves themselves. You, or someone near to your House, hasn't been doing so."

"Proximity does not prove I have anything to do with it," Scarlet snapped. "I feed on my retainers in a rotation, spreading around the burden of my appetites so as not to risk leaving bodies, exactly as agreed. Whoever is doing this, they are sloppy and gauche." She drew in a breath, making sure his eyes fell to the cavernous cleavage her attire showed off. Men. So predictable. "I am neither." She took a sip of her wine. “Besides, dead retainers are of no use to me or mine. It’s far better policy to keep them breathing.”

Derek considered that long enough for classic Aerosmith to start playing over the club's sound system. "It's true. Sloppy isn’t your style," he conceded. His eyes flicked to Deidre. "But you just said you added someone new to the House. That's against the rules too."

"It would be, had I turned her," Scarlet purred. "You know perfectly well the letter of the treaty terms prohibits only turning others, not recruiting them."

With a tilt of his head, Derek studied Deidre silently, his lips flexing at one corner. Suddenly he sat rigidly upright in his chair.

"You're not a vampire."

Deidre shook her head. "No."

"And you're not human."

"Right again," she said, her mouth pursing into a moue of disgust as she shot Scarlet a glance. "Perceptive, isn't he?"

"Not a shifter.” Derek continued, musing aloud as if Deidre hadn’t spoken. “The aura and scent are all wrong. Too much ‘come hither,' not enough predator. And not a Fae. No offense intended, but you don't seem prancy or flighty enough for that. Clearly, you have a physical form, which means you're not a ghost or other kind of spirit." His mouth twisted as if he'd just bitten into a particularly tart wedge of lime. "Which means you must be a succubus."

Deidre shot a panicked look at Scarlet. "How did he know?"

Scarlet offered back a chilly little smile. "Hunters are known for their quick minds and discerning natures. In addition to white combat magick, he probably has some innate mental talent for detecting supernal creatures, honed by both training and—" She lifted an eyebrow and dragged one finger over his clenched hand on the Formica tabletop. "—denial."

Derek raised his head, giving Scarlet the full force of his laser gaze. "Remove your hand, vampire. Now. Or I will do it for you permanently."

"You will do no such thing," Scarlet purred, ignoring the storm cloud of menace gathering in the atmosphere around the Hunter. "Unless you wish to break the truce and start a brawl, which would leave all these unfortunate, breakable mortals standing at ground zero."

"Might be worth it," Derek retorted, keeping his eyes resolutely fixed on the bridge of Scarlet's nose. "After all, taking you and your House out of the equation would make my job a good deal easier. Not to mention quieter."

"Ah, yes, the sanctity of silence," Scarlet said. "But have you ever considered perhaps we were never meant to skulk in the shadows? I know it pleases those of your Order to do so, and it must be so fulfilling to know you have the power to impose your rules upon the rest of us at swordpoint. Still, some of us still remember when we ruled this world."

"That time is long past, Scarlet. And you know that. The world has moved on. Be satisfied with what is left to you."

Scarlet looked to her right, trying not to be obvious about it. Deidre had her left hand poised suspiciously near Derek's glass, but she was looking around the room, seemingly bored. A moment later, she relaxed her hand and took another sip of Amaretto.

"Perhaps you are right, Hunter. We can hardly afford a war in the streets, now, can we?"

"That would be up to you, Scarlet. That's why we're having this little chat."

She smiled. "Then I propose a toast, to a unified effort to seek out and apprehend our common foe." She released the Hunter's hand, picked up her glass and lifted it, raising her eyebrows in invitation. "You wouldn't keep a lady waiting, would you?"

Derek raised his own glass and clicked it against hers, then Deidre's, and drank two deep swallows.

"So, where shall we begin?" Scarlet said.

He frowned. "You say you didn't do it, and I believe you. You have enough retainers to not risk turning them. There would be no need, and the more vampire mouths you have to feed, the more likely it is to draw attention. Deidre could have done it, but the kills are all wrong for a succubus, and I suspect she's feeding off your retainers the same way you are, only on a staggered schedule and in rotation so as not to drain them out and leave them…useless." The subtle emphasis implied he'd meant to use a cruder term, such as "dead," but had thought better of it.

Scarlet nodded slowly. "Perceptive, as I said. Go on."

"Then that means you have a turncoat, someone who's making nice with you in the open while trying to make you the focal point of a hunt."

"Perhaps. There are many in Portland who chafe under the restrictions of your Order and would be quite pleased to see my House fall, so as to step in and claim the territory for themselves. You are aware we are the largest House on the West Coast?"

"I know. It's one of the reasons the Order sent me to speak with you first. You’re too entrenched in the power structure to have no connection at all to this. Logic dictates you're either involved yourself, or you know who is."

"Is that how you think it works?" She laughed mockingly. "My people are not always ruled by logic, nor do they always consult me before they act, Hunter. And if, as you say, I am being betrayed by my own, they would hardly dare reveal themselves before they reach endgame for fear of retribution from the House of the Black Rose, yes?"

"True. Anyone you've pissed off lately?" He drained his glass and held it over his head without turning around for a long count of five, then returned it to the table and folded his hands.

"I can think of no one," Scarlet said truthfully. "There are mutterings of a new House which has been seeking to enhance its influence in the area, up from San Francisco. But those are mere rumors, nothing of any substance, and no one has presented themselves to me as emissaries or potential enemies. If so, they are in breach of several of our laws, and it is our right to deal with them according to our ways."

Derek shook his head. "That won't work. You ca—" He stopped and groaned a little.

"Are you all right, Hunter?" Scarlet asked.

"I feel—strange," he said. His head came up again, and this time he looked Scarlet squarely in the eyes. "What did you do?"

"I have done nothing, Hunter. Your senses would have perceived any move I made," she said, allowing a slow, venomous smile to spread over her lips.

He caught the emphasis immediately. "Then what did she do?" he asked, jabbing a finger at Deidre.

"You're much too uptight and stuffy," the succubus said, grinning winsomely at him. "You need to relax. You need...leisure." Reaching over, she put a hand on his. "How long has it been since you've known the touch of a woman?"

"Irrelevant," he snarled, jerking his hand away. He narrowly missed elbowing the bartender, who was just coming up behind him with his fresh drink. The bartender set it down.

"Everything okay here?"

Scarlet raised an eyebrow. Deidre continued to smile. After a moment, Derek nodded.

"Yeah. Yeah, we're okay."

"May we have the check, please?" Scarlet asked.

"Sure," the bartender said, walking away quickly.

"Are you going somewhere?" Derek said, his tone slightly dazed but nevertheless steely.

"No," Scarlet said. "We are. Now be a good boy and drink up."

She watched him raise the glass to his lips and gulp down the contents in a few lusty swallows. The bartender came over with a tiny plastic tray bearing her card, a pen and two slips of paper. She filled in the tip on the top copy, signed it, retrieved her card and receipt and passed the remaining items back to him.

"Thank you," she said, leaning forward and giving him a wide smile. The calculated movement offered a prime view of the deep cleft between her breasts, and the bartender's reaction did not disappoint.

"Uh. No problem," he said, looking around the table frantically as a bulge formed in the front of his jeans. "You, uh, have a good night now."

As he scurried off, Scarlet turned to Deidre with a grin. "Come, love. Let's get him into the car."

Chapter Three

Scarlet drove through the glistening, rain-soaked streets. The hour had grown late enough for traffic to be fairly light, but early enough for navigating safely to require the majority of her attention. Deidre sat in the back with Derek, and Scarlet adjusted her rearview mirror just enough to ensure a good view of what was going on.

Derek slumped in his seat, eyes open but slightly unfocused. Given the brightness of his gaze earlier, the effect was a bit unnerving, but Scarlet knew it was just a side effect of the web Deidre had cast over his drink. Deidre stroked her hands over his thighs with a light, whispering whoosh which was all but lost in the sounds of the tires on the wet pavement and the gentle thumping of the wipers.

"How long will your web hold?" Scarlet asked.

Deidre scrunched up her face in thought. It was an awfully cute expression, which made her look childlike and slightly mischievous. Scarlet's pussy clenched a little, and she felt a bead of moisture drip from between her thighs. What I wouldn't give to have her on her knees in front of me right now!

"About twenty minutes," she said. "Plenty of time, if we use it wisely."

"Then I suggest you do," Scarlet said.

She stifled a gasp as Deidre lowered one hand to the fly of Derek's cargo pants. The succubus fumbled for a moment and then revealed his cock, half-erect but growing visibly harder under her touch. Deidre began to massage his flesh lazily, whispering into his ear just loudly enough for Scarlet to hear.

"Does that feel good, Hunter? Do you like my touch? I want to put my mouth on it, you know. I want to suck you until you cum deep in my mouth, and then get you hard all over again so you can fuck my pretty little cunt. Or maybe even my tight asshole. Would you like that?"

He groaned, and his cock swelled to full length and thickness. Scarlet's angle of vision allowed her to just make out a tiny teardrop of moisture atop the crown, illuminated by the various lights on the road. Deidre quickly scooped it up with her fingers, using his own juices to lubricate his flesh as she stroked him.

"Maybe you can even have both of us tonight, if you're a good boy. I know Mistress Scarlet is as hungry as I am. We might even let you live—but even if we didn't, you couldn't ask for a better exit from this life, could you?"

Derek moaned. "You're...not...going," he panted. "You...can't...afford come...down...on"

"Oh, the only thing which is coming down right now is my mouth on your cock," Deidre said. She undid her seatbelt and wriggled, arranging herself so she could bring her face to his groin.

"Move a bit to the right," Scarlet said. "I want to see." Gritting her teeth, she struggled to focus on the road and the Hunter's seduction simultaneously, the scent of her own arousal filling her nostrils. She would never have described herself as a voyeur, but the liquid heat between her thighs served as incontestable proof that the scene in the mirror entranced her. "We're about fifteen minutes away from our special place."

Deidre scooted a bit.

"No, the other way. Good. A bit more—perfect," Scarlet said.

Deidre leaned down and gave the side of his cock a long, slow lick, from the base all the way up to the crown. She swirled her tongue around the edge as if licking a lollipop, and Derek groaned again. His hands twitched as if he was trying to raise them to clutch at Deidre's hair, but they stopped a mere inch off the leather seat.

"Ah ah ah," Scarlet mocked. "You can't move until we say you can, you naughty, naughty boy. You can only sit back and enjoy, or endure, what she’s going to do to you." She thought for a moment. "Can he break the spell?"

Deidre lifted her head away from the Hunter's cock. "It depends," she grumped, miffed at being pulled away from her treat. "A formidable enough will could theoretically do so, but it would probably take more time than he has. As long as I stay in physical contact with his skin, it shouldn't be a problem."

Scarlet nodded. "Carry on, then."

Without hesitation, Deidre returned to her self-assigned task, licking his shaft and smoothing her fingers over his length with gusto, Scarlet drinking in the sight through the mirror. To her surprise, she felt the first clawing stirrings of jealousy mingling with her rising erotic hunger as Deidre worshiped Derek's cock, teasing and pleasing the Hunter.

She knew her response was irrational. This had been her idea, after all, and Deidre was only following instructions. Besides, the succubus knew how her magick worked, and how to sustain its effects, far better than Scarlet could. But a tiny, petulant voice in her mind wanted her to be the one on her knees, tasting and touching his cock and enslaving him to her will. Even though she understood the necessity and the fact she knew where they were going whereas Deidre didn't, she could not deny her anger as she watched Deidre take him deep into her mouth, then pull back, only to push forward again even more greedily.

Scarlet’s lips parted, the word which could end all this trembling on the tip of her tongue. With an effort of will, she bit it back and down, feeding it into the furnace deep in the pit of her stomach, using it as fuel. Still, knowing she had the option, the choice and most importantly the right to end this if it became unbearable helped ease the awful pressure and drain some of the sting from watching Deidre suck Derek’s cock, leaving only a slight frisson of pique in its wake.

Derek, for his part, was powerless to do anything except enjoy Deidre's talented lips and tongue on his sensitive flesh, although he stared into the mirror and Scarlet's eyes with a dangerous intensity. My body may be paralyzed for now, bitch, his look seemed to say, but my mind is still my own, and you're both going to pay dearly for this.

Deidre did something with her mouth Scarlet couldn't see, but it coaxed an audible moan of pleasure from Derek. For Deidre's part, she was making happy little coos as she swallowed and released him, over and over. Then she parted the wings of her cloak, revealing her perky, firm breasts. She hunched on the seat with her ass in the air and pressed her breasts together around his hardness, bouncing up and down as best the angle would permit. Derek shuddered and his eyes slid closed as she tit-fucked him, his hands forming helpless claws against the cloth upholstery.

Distracted by the show, Scarlet nearly missed the turn for the club. Swearing, she cut the wheel sharply to the left. A horn blared behind them, and she raised her middle finger without looking back. Deidre cried out as the car jostled, pitching her off Derek and sprawling her unceremoniously in a heap on the spacious floorboard, her breasts shining in the glow of the streetlights and her expression annoyed.

"What was that?"

"I—got distracted," Scarlet said. "But no matter." She pulled the car into a more graceful right-hand turn, found an empty spot and piloted it to a stop. "Cover up. We're here."

Chapter Four

Deidre rose to her knees. Giving Derek’s cock a firm squeeze just below the head, she applied pressure until his erection subsided and then tucked it carefully back into his pants. Then she pressed her cloak closed, keeping one hand twined around Derek's as she clambered to her feet and tugged him out of the car.

Without a sexual connection, she had to maintain skin-to-skin contact or the spell could fracture, freeing him to unleash retribution. She had seen enough of the Hunter to know he was not likely to be forgiving or deal gently with them if she lost control of him. The women would both be lucky to survive a skirmish, never mind actually coming out on top.

She watched Scarlet's swaying hips, enjoying the show immensely. The redhead moved with lean, lithe grace and an unconscious sensuality which made Deidre's mouth water. Although the black cape around her shoulders largely obscured the view from behind, Deidre knew the curves beneath almost as well as her own, having studied them closely and in great, loving detail over the past year. She knew the vampire's taste, her scent, her sound intimately, and her fingers itched to reach out and trace the lines of the other, older woman's hips and ass as she followed the vampire and the Hunter down the stairs to the recessed door leading into the club.

"Welcome to Private Affairs, sir, ladies," the woman at the door said. She was on the shady side of forty, maybe thirty pounds overweight and comfortable in her skin, wearing a burgundy corset, a flared black skirt and heels. "Do you have your membership card?"

Scarlet fumbled through her clutch and handed the plastic card to the greeter, who scanned it with the camera on her cell phone. After a few seconds, she handed it back with a smile. "Here you are. You're all set. That'll be forty dollars."

Once more, she passed over her debit card. Deidre moved forward to flank her, where she could see Scarlet’s face while maintaining her watch on the Hunter. The woman affixed a block of white plastic to her phone and swiped the card. "Receipt?"

"No, thank you. The bank will send me an email."

"Okay. You all know the house rules?"

Scarlet nodded. "We do." She gave the woman a bright grin, her dark chocolate eyes glinting with excitement. "We're regulars."

"Perfect!" The greeter smiled again and stepped aside, parting the velvet rope separating the interior from the door. "Have fun!"

"Thank you," Scarlet said, and led the way into the club, the Hunter falling in obediently if mechanically behind her. Deidre brought up the rear behind the Hunter, clutching his hand, so close she could smell the wet leather of his coat and the brisk, spicy scent of his body wash underlain with his own natural musk even over the sharp odor of chlorinated water, cleaning chemicals and human sweat. He wore no cologne, but Deidre hardly thought he needed it to smell delicious. She thought of sucking his cock in the car, remembered the feeling of the flared head of his cock pummeling the back of her throat, and a pulse of brilliant blue-white heat sizzled down her nerve endings from the impact point to her clit.

She was hungry to the point of madness, horny beyond endurance. She craved cock and cunt, to please and be pleased, to have her entire body plundered, licked, sucked, fucked and taken. It was pure, bestial need, exquisite in its power and urgency, and the brief taste of the Hunter she'd had earlier had whetted her appetite until every sensation, sight, smell and sound burned both on her skin and beneath it. Being a succubus was never easy, but right now, she felt she could fuck her way through the entire club and still crave more.

A song with a pounding bass and snarling, gravelly lead guitar line was playing, a baritone male voice rasping over the top of it. The song formed an auditory backdrop to the low buzz of conversation, punctuated with moans and cries of pleasure and pain, the clink of glassware, the burbling of water from the hot tub room and crisp reports of impact from hands and implements striking bare flesh in the dungeon.

Scarlet led them to an alcove in the back of the club. She surveyed a long line of narrow doors, painted a flat, matte black, with narrowed eyes. Then she smiled, raising her chin to indicate the far end of the room.

Deidre swallowed hard, drinking in the sight of the pale skin of Scarlet's slender throat above her choker. Forcing herself to look away, she followed the line of her chin to where two of the doors hung slightly open, their polished brass fittings throwing back the colored lights from above a packed dance floor in the next room, imparting a dull yellow sheen to the scintillating reds and greens and blues.

"Take him into the far room," Scarlet said. "I'll go into the one next to it."

Deidre tugged on Derek's hand. "Come on, Hunter."

She drew him to the indicated room, really more of a deep, narrow closet. One side featured a smooth, blank black wall covered with UV-reactive paint which threw off a confused melange of colors in the sullen purple glow of the naked blacklight bulb set in the ceiling, its only other feature a line of brass coat hooks set just high enough that average-height people wouldn’t be at risk of injuring themselves as they used the room. On the side opposite, the riotously-colored blankness of the wall was interrupted by a large hole, about eight inches in diameter, surrounded by a spongy black material. The floor in front of the hole featured a low, padded kneeler, about four feet long and a foot and a half wide. In the middle of the room, two black plastic chairs sprawled akimbo, with a small table between, coated in battered, scarred lacquer, whose only feature was a box of tissues. The back wall was utterly devoid of features or decorations, giving the odd appearance of a symmetrical five-by-seven-foot rip in space, the impression bolstered by the paint-spattered plywood ceiling overhead.

Deidre tugged the Hunter's hand, pulling him into the room. She had to press close to the wall, and even so, there was barely enough room for him to pass her, his chest brushing her breasts beneath her cloak and bringing her nipples to aching, erect life once more. Her hunger roared in wrathful need, and she lunged for him, crushing her lips to his.

He gasped in surprise, and she took full advantage of his momentary weakness, thrusting her tongue deep into his mouth. To her delight, he met her oral assault with equal ardor, his own tongue parrying and darting around hers, as he pushed back into her, shoving her violently against the wall.

She was suddenly very aware of her nudity beneath the cloak as his erection pressed into her thigh. Just three inches to the right, and one up, and he could be inside her. All she had to do was lift the hem of her cloak.

No! Scarlet is waiting. Still, I'm sure she won't mind waiting a moment more…

She reached down and undid the Hunter's belt, popping the button holding his pants closed and unzipping them. With a quick motion, she hooked her thumbs in the waistline of his briefs and shoved them and his pants down to his ankles, leaving him hobbled and helpless. He grunted as she palmed his cock, stroking the warm, soft flesh of his manhood.

"Bring him over here," Scarlet said through the hole in the wall, her voice heated with a complex mixture of emotions Deidre couldn’t quite decipher. Her pale, streamlined hand appeared through the opening, beckoning.

Deidre kissed him for a long moment more, and then steered him to the hole by his firmly erect cock. "Take him in hand, Scarlet. I will join you in a moment."

"Will the spell hold?"

"As long as you don't let go, yes. For a few minutes, anyway. But we have to hurry."

Scarlet gripped him firmly and pulled him closer to the hole, until his hips pressed flush against the wall. Deidre whipped the hat off his head, revealing close-cropped light brown hair, and hung it on a hook. Then she turned back to him and slithered her hands under the sides of his duster, drawing it off his arms, peering at his face. His dazed, poleaxed look of dumbfounded pleasure convinced her the spell still held him under its sway. She could afford the luxury of a few moments to get from one place to another.

She hurried out of the closet and twisted the handle to secure the door behind her. It wouldn't do for him to be molested before she and her vampire mistress had completed the stranglehold of the web. Afterward it wouldn't matter, but for now, she dared leave nothing to chance lest the Hunter shatter the shackles of the web and assert, with vigor, his displeasure over their flagrant violation of the treaty.

It felt strange and somehow both arousing and wrong to walk into the alcove next door and find Scarlet caressing an oddly disembodied male member. As she slipped through the thin plywood door, she saw the vampire fold gracefully to her knees on the low bench, swirling her tongue over Derek's cock while she rubbed him with one hand. Scarlet flicked her eyes to Deidre and motioned her over with her free hand.

She had been worried Scarlet would be jealous. As the newest of the House, it was rare she got to play with a man alone, and even rarer for Scarlet to allow her to take point. However, under the circumstances, the vampire had no choice. Scarlet could keep him enthralled for a few moments on her own, using his own sexual desire against him, but she lacked both the occult knowledge and raw seductive power to craft and empower the web.

Kneeling, Deidre mouthed, Are you okay? Do we need to stop?

Something dark flitted across Scarlet’s face, there and gone before Deidre could begin to make it out. The vampire shook her head, the light coppery curls bouncing. I’m okay, she mouthed back, stroking Derek’s length with her hand. I’m a little jealous, but I want this.

Deidre tilted her head. Do you need to safeword?

Scarlet waved the hand not currently occupied with seven inches of hard manmeat in a sharp negative gesture. No. I’m okay. She thought for a moment. Can I be rough with you?

Deidre smiled, a wave of hot desire rippling through her body. Do what you want to me. I love you.

Scarlet nodded. I love you too, little one. She bent her face to Derek’s cock once more, indicating Deidre should join her. The succubus didn't hesitate, mirroring Scarlet's posture and bracing with one hand against the wall. She leaned forward and began to minister to Derek's length, imitating the vampire's motions and looking squarely into her eyes.

To Deidre's surprised delight, Scarlet met her at the crown of Derek's cock, the vampire's tongue playing tentatively, then lasciviously, over both his hard flesh and Deidre's mouth. Scarlet leaned forward, sealing her lips to Deidre's, the teasing caresses melting into a sensual kiss, battering Derek's erection gently between them as a boat caught amid storm-tossed waves. Then Scarlet pulled back to slither back down Derek's length, sliding until her cheek was pressed flush to the wall and back up again. Deidre matched her movements as if they'd practiced this deliciously forbidden dance a thousand times. They met for another kiss, and Scarlet whispered, "Take him."

Deidre did, opening wide and surging forward until the head of his cock met the back of her throat, and then pulled back again, deep-throating his length for all she was worth, closing her eyes in blissful surrender to the delicious control she had over him in this moment.

She heard a soft rustle behind her, felt cool air on her butt as the hem of her cloak was lifted from behind, and then Scarlet’s warm, gentle hand brushed lightly over the swell of Deidre’s ass and downward until her fingertips grazed the clean-shaven lips of her cunt. The vampire sought and found her wetness, spreading it around the sensitive folds with languid, unhurried strokes. She gasped, drawing Derek even deeper into her mouth, as the pad of Scarlet's fingertip slid lightly over her clit and downward to tease at the entrance to her core.

Derek's cock spasmed between her lips as Scarlet pushed deeper into Deidre's body. She took the dual invasion eagerly, adoringly, hunching down slightly to better open herself to Scarlet's questing hand while not losing her intimate connection with the Hunter.

"Is he close?" Scarlet asked.

Despite the position, Deidre managed to nod.

Scarlet slipped another finger into her, stretching her as her body flexed to accommodate the additional intruder. Deidre whimpered as the other woman found a certain spot which shot luscious flames through her entire being. Somewhere deep in her mind, where the onslaught of merciless pleasure couldn't reach, she wondered at Scarlet's dexterity as the vampire moved to kneel beside her, insinuating her tongue delicately into the erotic interplay while maintaining her gentle assault on Deidre's senses. Another finger invaded her body, and Deidre moaned around the firm flesh in her mouth with pleasure dancing on the razor’s edge of pain as Scarlet began to pump her fingers into Deidre’s cunt hard and fast, forcing her closer to the precipice. Deidre hunched her hips down as best she could, offering herself as a willing sacrifice to Scarlet’s dark need to punish and please.

Derek groaned once more, and his voice came low and urgent.

"I'm going to cum..."

Deidre and Scarlet moved as one, urging Derek to his climax. The utter depravity, the glorious filthiness of sucking Derek off through a hole in the wall, coupled with Scarlet's skilled touch inside her body, sent Deidre spiraling into a shuddering orgasm, her howls of ecstasy muffled by the swollen flesh in her mouth and Scarlet's kisses.

From behind the wall, they heard Derek moan. He stiffened once more, and Deidre rejoiced at the hot, salty assault on her taste buds as Derek lost control, pumping wave after wave of cum into her eager mouth. She closed her eyes once more, reveling in the flavor of his release on her tongue and the feel of Scarlet's lips against her own, partaking of Derek's essence with her as if sharing a dark communion, helping her to pull the chains of the web tighter around his psyche even as they granted him the surcease from denial his Order refused him.

As his eruption subsided and his cock softened to slip from her lips, Scarlet drew her into a fierce, one-armed embrace, slipping yet another finger into Deidre. She no longer knew, or cared, how many digits the other woman had up her cunt. The exquisite pleasure made it impossible for her to think of anything but the rapture as Scarlet kissed her deeply, drinking from her mouth as if Deidre was no more or less than a priceless chalice. The image, coupled with Scarlet's fangs prodding against her lips and the confident slide of fingers between Deidre's thighs, made her tense and cum again, wailing her joy into Scarlet's mouth.

Finally, Scarlet pulled away with a gulp. Her eyes shone brightly in the dimness of the cubicle, her cheeks flushed to a distinctly nonvampiric rose hue.

"That was delicious," she said, and Deidre knew she wasn't only talking about the results of the Hunter's orgasm. "Will the web hold now?"

Deidre thought for a moment. "It will hold for a time, but for the best results, I should cast it again and then you should take him. That way, he will be bound to both of us, blood, breath and bone. Right now, he could theoretically still break the spell, if his willpower is sufficient."

Scarlet considered that, and Deidre didn’t need a telepathic link to guess the bent of her thoughts. Hunters' willpower was the stuff of legend. The tales of various creatures and entities who had underestimated the Hunters to their own doom were spoken in whispers throughout the preternatural realms, adding to the dread the Hunters and their commanding Order inspired. Neither woman had any desire to add the House of the Black Rose to the ranks of the Hunters' conquests.

What the Master would think of such a turn of events didn't bear thinking on.

"Very well," she said finally.

She stood, pulling away from Deidre, whose cunt clenched at the loss of her dainty, filling fingers. Then Scarlet embraced her again, pressing her wet fingers to Deidre's lips. She opened her mouth, accepting them, the taste of her own nectar mingling with the sharper but no less delicious lingering savor of Derek on her tongue. She suckled at Scarlet's fingers avidly, determined to get every drop off Scarlet's skin, until she could no longer taste herself, then pulled away just enough to let the other woman's hand fall.

Scarlet leaned in, crushing her breasts against Deidre, and kissed her once more with real feeling. Deidre's breath caught and the love and desire she felt for the vampire flooded through her. Suddenly she wished they were at home, curled up in each other's arms, watching some vapid sitcom and cuddling until their mutual need became unbearable, ushering in the dawn lost in each other's bodies.

When Scarlet drew away from her, she had to fight a sudden urge to cry at the pain of separation.

"Go get us drinks. I'll see to Derek and meet you back here."

Deidre bowed.

"Yes, Mistress."

Chapter Five

Deidre slithered her way through the crowd, around the corner and up the stairs to the bar, her eyes darting around to drink in the bacchanal surrounding her. People-watching in Portland was always an adventure, and Private Affairs was no exception, especially this close to Halloween.

In one corner, near the DJ booth, pitiless, rotating blades of colored light illuminated a burly, bearded, dark-skinned man. He wore a frilly pink tutu, red thong panties, a ludicrous blonde wig and nothing else, his back to the room as he gripped a St. Andrew's cross. A petite, dark-haired woman dressed like a member of Dracula's pep squad in a black and red slutty cheerleader outfit and stiletto heels wielded a matched pair of light floggers, swaying her hips in time to "Living Dead Girl" while she worked over his back with intricate loops and whirls of the multi-tailed whips.

Onlookers sprawled on low benches or stood in a loose semicircle around the couple, in outfits ranging from novel to normal to nonexistent, including one swarthy, heavyset man who was openly masturbating as he watched. He made eye contact with Deidre and gave her the sort of smile hungry sharks gave baby seals. She shivered, suddenly feeling very naked and exposed despite her cloak, and turned away, hurrying onward down the corridor.

Around the corner, the space opened out into a wide room dominated by a hot tub large enough to seat eight, if they were polite. Currently, the tub hosted somewhere north of a dozen people, all kissing, touching, or stroking various parts of one another.

One rebellious couple, in flagrant violation of the large NO INTERCOURSE IN TUB AREA sign posted directly above and behind them, was engaged in vigorous and vocal sexual congress, the woman on her hands and knees while her partner knelt behind her, pummeling her pussy with a ridiculously long, thick cock. She whimpered and howled in English and Spanish, encouraging her lover to go harder and deeper.

Deidre gulped. How can she take all that? It didn't seem physically possible given the disparity in their relative sizes, and yet she accepted even his most vicious thrusts with vociferous, bilingual glee.

A loose knot of people, in pairs and trios and a couple of loners, stood around, cradling drinks or paper plates of food from the club's buffet, chatting and watching or ignoring the action as it suited them. Most of them didn't give her a second glance, but a transgender woman who appeared to be not far into her transition met Deidre's eyes and gave her a shy smile. Deidre smiled back, hoping the other woman had or would find someone to love or at least be with here tonight, but hurried past into the darker hallway leading up to the stairs, making a mental note to try to chat with her a bit later in the evening if time and other factors allowed.

As she stepped from dimness into actual darkness, she barked her shin painfully on something just above floor level. "Ouch!"

"Hey!" A pale face swung toward her out of the gloom as her eyes began to adjust, contorted in anger. "Watch where you're going!"

"I'm sorry—" Deidre said, but the man had already turned back to what he was doing: sucking the short, fat cock of another, even paler man who reclined on a faux leather divan, his knees cradling the kneeling man's torso. A little piqued to be so abruptly dismissed, but deciding it was better not to press the issue, Deidre scurried up the steps, carefully scanning the area around her for any other obstacles.

"Assholes! They should be using the couples' rooms. That's what they're there for! Hide out in the dark and then get upset when someone trips over them…" Deidre growled under her breath.

For a moment, she was sorely tempted to go back and give them the sharp edge of her tongue, but she didn't dare. Not only would that reflect poorly on the House, and earn her a rather painful and prolonged discipline, but she couldn't afford to keep Scarlet and the Hunter waiting. Every minute she dallied was a minute she risked losing her tenuous control over the Hunter and destroying the détente which assured the supernatural denizens of Portland could go about their affairs more or less unmolested and unchallenged.

She made it to the bar, past people dressed for the street or Halloween or a dungeon or a bathhouse or bed. She fell into line behind a woman dressed as a sexy nun in a latex habit, wearing a collar to which was attached a leash held by a person of indeterminate gender in a brown monk's cassock with the hood pulled up. At the "monk's" waist rode a double loop of hemp rope into which had been thrust a riding crop, a pair of restraints, a set of nipple clamps on a chain cunningly worked to look like a rosary and a couple of items she couldn't readily identify. The "nun" turned toward the large, neon-limned, handwritten beverage menu against the wall, allowing Deidre to see that her outfit left her small breasts bared and her neatly trimmed, dark pubic bush exposed. She pointed at something on the menu and spoke to the monk, whose hood bobbed in what Deidre presumed to be a nod.

Deidre made a mental note to broach the subject of the "nun's" outfit with Scarlet and the Master. She wasn't entirely sure if they would be open to such roleplay, but if they were, she was quite sure she would enjoy any "penance" assigned to her.

The quasi-religious pair in front of her moved aside with drinks in hand, and the young woman behind the bar, about Deidre's age, gave her a grin. "What are you drinking?"

She recited the order quickly. The bartender swiftly assembled plastic barware and began pouring. "So, where's everyone else?"

"Downstairs," Deidre said. She smiled. "We're playing a game."

"A fun one, I hope!" The bartender offered her a grin in return.

"It sure is." She wriggled with excitement, feeling a bead of wetness drip down her thigh. "I’m being collared tomorrow, so tonight we’re celebrating."

"Sounds great!" the other woman said, placing the cups on the counter. "You got that okay?"

Deidre grinned. "I think I can manage," she replied, reaching under her cloak. She pulled a twenty and a ten from the small pouch around her thigh and laid them on the bar, waving to indicate no change was required. No matter where the members of the House went, Master insisted they always tip well, saying it made them more memorable and ensured better service on future excursions.

"Tell them I said hi."


As Deidre scooped up the drinks and arranged them against her chest so they wouldn't slosh or spill, she became abruptly, even painfully aware of her throbbing clit and open vagina. Scarlet's touch had opened the floodgates of her desire, and far from being satisfied, it roared to wakefulness once again, demanding more. More cock, more cunt, more delicious cum. She wanted to be reduced to a series of mindless, wet, aching holes fit only to be ravaged, filled, fucked and used like the gloriously depraved slut she was. She wanted to lose her mind, her sense of self, giving it all over, wrapped up like a gift in the self-forged chains of her submission, and in that blissful delirium of ecstasy find her wings.

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