All Souls’ Night: A Midnight Doms Boxset

by Renee Rose

  “That isn’t what you were saying the last time we saw each other. In fact, I remember how good your thick cock tasted in my—”

  “Enough!” How dare she? She might be a regular sweetblood here, but that is an honor that can be taken away. I make a mental note to talk to Lucius about her abhorrent behavior.

  “So, it’s true then?” Keri looks from Nina to me before spinning on her heel and rushing out of the room. She means to head to the exit, but her directional sense has never been a strong suit, and she instead heads to the area that leads down to the basement.

  Fuck.

  She can’t go down there alone.

  “I’ve got this,” Erik nods to Nina, “go.”

  I blur quickly to be by Keri’s side. Her thoughts are rushing through her head so quickly that it is hard for me to make sense of them. One thing is for sure, she is feeling betrayed. Reaching the bottom of the stairs beside her, I grab her by the upper arms and pull her against my chest, enveloping her.

  “Keri, stop. Calm down,” I order.

  “No. Let me go.”

  “Keri. I said, calm down. I won’t tell you again. If you don’t listen to me, I’m going to take you into a booth and put you over my knee until you listen to me.”

  “Listen to you what? Lie to me again? About more things?”

  That is it. I am going to get her attention, and then talk to her. Pulling her into the red hue, stopping briefly to admire the difference in the coloring and decor, I continue on. We go past the St. Andrew’s Cross and the spanking bench that are both currently in use by happy couples. Past Dimitri in the corner chair giving the girl in white a nice sensual spanking, and into an empty private booth. I gently push Keri ahead of me, follow her in, and shut the curtain. This isn’t sensual and fun, it doesn’t need to be witnessed. There is nothing perverse about a jealous lover’s quarrel.

  “What did she say to you?”

  “Nothing.” Keri’s chin goes up stubbornly.

  Snatching the riding crop off of the wall, I walk around her and bring it down harshly across her upper thighs. She moans loudly, feeling its bite even through the silk of her dress.

  “Try again, and this time, don’t lie to me.”

  “Why? Why don’t you just read my mind, if you want to know so damn bad?” She crosses her arms over her chest. I won’t have it: the disrespect, or the attitude.

  “Kneel.” The word is growled out with such fierceness, she all but falls to her knees. Unzipping the back of her dress, I work it down her arms. Her strapless red bra is holding up her perfectly sized mounds. I unsnap it, and drop it to the floor beside her.

  “Hands behind your back. Don’t you dare move them.”

  This time, I flick the crop against the fullness of her right breast. A square pink mark quickly appears in its wake on her milky white flesh. I follow it up by providing an identical mark to the left breast. Her arousal is strong in my nostrils; the beating of her heart, a bass drum in my ears. I can almost taste her familiar sweetness. My mouth waters, my cock swells. Down boy. Not now.

  I look from the crop in my hand to the hard, erect nipples standing at attention in front of me and bring it down over those very tips. I drum it down a dozen times—six of the best on each—before I drop it to the floor. Her cries of pain fill the room, but as a testament to her discipline and training, she doesn’t move out of position.

  “Let me ask you again. What did she say to you?”

  “She said you played with her last month. She said you’ve been cheating on me for a year. She said that I’m a whore who won’t hold your attention.”

  “Listen to me. She lied to you. I don’t know what she is about, but I have not played with her since the second time you and I played. I knew then that I didn’t want anyone else. I was in Arizona last month for business and I did come to the club, as you know, but I did not scene or play with anyone. I had a few drinks, and enjoyed watching some of the best play. I taught a young buck a thing or two about tying knots. I did not touch her. She tried, she tried hard, and I rejected her. I am sure that’s what this is about.”

  “You didn’t touch her?”

  “No. I wish you would have come to me instead of getting angry. I promised you I would be honest, remember?”

  “I’m sorry.” She looks down at her hands. She is fuming again, but this time, her anger is directed at Nina.

  “Do I have your attention now, Butterfly?”

  “You do, Sir.”

  “Do I need to do anything else to get you into the right mindset for tonight? Do you speak to your dom the way you did?”

  “No, Sir.”

  “Good. Because, the masquerade is supposed to be fun for us. I would hate to cut the night early and take you home. I have no problem properly punishing you here and then taking you home, tying you up, and bringing you to the brink of orgasm over and over until you fall asleep wanting and exhausted. No more naughtiness, do you understand me?”

  “I understand, Sir!” She is panting with need already.

  God. She must be drenched. Her pheromones are driving me insane. If we don’t get out of here soon, I am going to shred her dress and fuck her right here on the floor. I have plans for tonight, big plans. I need to control myself.

  “I don’t think you do. I think you need a little taste.” I bend and pick up her bra, carefully putting it back on her. I snap the back of it closed and readjust her dress. “Get up and go lie down on the table, pull your dress up to your hips.”

  I like what I see. Her perfectly shaved pussy is covered by only a small triangle of silky red fabric. It’s a sexy thong—chosen, I am sure, just for me. She knows my favorite color is red. She hasn’t put it together yet. Blood red.

  Just as I expected, her thong is drenched. I pull it down to just above her knees, exposing her delicious womanly delights to my gaze. I inhale the scent of her arousal, growing increasingly harder and more uncomfortable. This isn’t about me, nor is it about bringing her to pleasure. Control.

  I part her lips with my thumb and bend forward. I lick at her clit with my tongue, like a cat lapping up milk. Just enough to drive her nuts. With practiced precision, I lick at the tip of her bundle of nerves, enjoying her taste in my mouth. She moans beneath me, squirming in pleasure.

  “Oh God!”

  Blowing lightly over her clit, sending goosebumps over her entire body, I move a finger into her slick, waiting hole. Thrusting in and out, a motion my throbbing cock is dying to mimic, I listen to her body. She doesn’t get to orgasm, no, I will stop when she gets to the very edge, leave her nerves electric and standing at attention for me.

  Her hips are rising to meet each thrust. I add a second finger, stretching her. I move my tongue back to its place over her swollen clit. Licking and suckling, I feel her tensing beneath me. She’s panting in pleasure, her moans growing in desperation. Her back arches on the table, her thrusts become violent.

  “I’m so close, so so close. Please, please. Please, Sir!” Her begging is music to my ears. “Oh. My. God.” Her pussy clenches around my fingers. She is going to come. Time to stop. I pull out my fingers and stand.

  “Clean them.” I bring my fingers to her mouth. Her eyes glisten with need, arousal and frustration. She looks at me. I know she wants to talk back. She wants to beg and plead for an orgasm. But I’ve trained my submissive much better than that. She opens her mouth to clean her taste off of my fingers.

  Bastard.

  The one-word thought has me chuckling. I won’t punish her for her thoughts.

  “My parents were married, Butterfly,” I respond with a wink. “How about we go explore the club now, if you think you can behave yourself?”

  Every nerve in my body is demanding that I orgasm. I don’t know what blue balls feels like but blue ovaries are overwhelmingly frustrating. I adjust my mask. It is heavier than I would have guessed, but wearing real diamonds on your face means they are going to have some weight. Bentley has covered me in jewels. Diamonds and
gold drip from my earlobes, hang around my neck, my wrist, and even a beautiful dainty anklet. The weight of the jewelry, not the physical weight, but the emotional weight, knowing the cost, is almost like shackles of sorts. I am worried about breaking a clasp, losing a diamond. Bentley told me not to worry about it, he could replace any diamond easily, he owns them all. But how can I think like that? I have never seen anything this expensive in all my life. It is all so surreal to me.

  Here I am, in the hottest club in Arizona, surrounded by vampires and werewolves, wearing millions of dollars’ worth of jewels, every nerve in my body on fire. I need an orgasm. I need to relieve myself. Maybe I can sneak off to the bathroom and just rub my clit a bit. It wouldn’t take much—

  “You will do no such thing. If you touch your clit or relieve yourself at all before I give you permission, you will not orgasm for a week. You will be going to bed wanting every night of that week, feeling just like this. Understand me?”

  “Yes, Sir.” I groan. I really hate that he can read my mind. Actually, I think I hate that I am aware that he can read my mind. Before, at least I thought my thoughts were private. Now, I understand how he managed to know what trouble I was going to get into before I got into it, and how he would do just the right thing at the right time to prevent it.

  Nina catches my eye from across the room, and frowns. I snuggle closer to Bentley and narrow my eyes at the bitch. It is her fault my breasts are red and sore. It is her fault I am squirming with unmet desire.

  Bentley wraps his arm around my waist and pulls me close to him. Leaning in, he kisses the top of my head. “No reason to be jealous, sweetheart. You are the only woman here for me.”

  “I’m not jealous.”

  “Now Keri, what is my rule about lying?”

  “I’m not. I’m not jealous, I’m angry.”

  “You have every right to be upset with her. Remember who you are and who you represent, yes?” He tilts my face up to look at him.

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “Good girl. You keep being good, and I might just let you come before the night is over.”

  The sound of a whip swishing through the air catches my attention. I turn to see a beautiful man, naked, his wrist and ankles tied to the St. Andrew’s Cross. Another man, dressed impeccably in a fine-fitting black tux, holds a cat o’ nine tails. He is playing with his prey. The whip is flying through the air then, after barely caressing his back, the next lash will cut a little, leaving a fine line of blood in its path. Each time the whip falls, wielded with practiced skill, another sensation is brought to the bottom. The dominant is massaging with one lash, cutting with the next. The beautiful creature on the cross is moaning, squirming, and extremely aroused, if the erect rod jutting from him is any indicator of his state.

  “Do you like that, Butterfly? Does it make my pussy wet?” Bentley’s hot breath on my ear makes me shiver. His verbal ownership of my vagina does something to me emotionally that I can’t explain. His hand comes up and squeezes my breast. I bite back a yelp as he brushes against the tenderness left behind by the crop. He kneads the left one like a ball of dough, flicking his thumb over my nipple as he speaks, as if the room isn’t full of people. “Do you want me to strip you naked and tease you with the whip the way he is doing?”

  “N…nnn…ooo.” I stutter as I feel the gush of liquid fill my panties. The cat has always been a fascination of mine, but it is also a hard limit. I have seen it go very wrong once and since then, the fear overrides my curiosity.

  “You know I will always respect your limits, Butterfly. That is why we have a safeword. If you ever want to try it, at home, in private, we can. I will go slow and gentle. We will use the color system, and you can be in complete control of the situation. I will help you master any fear you have.”

  “Me? In complete control?”

  “Butterfly, you are always in complete control. Your safeword guarantees as much. Your submission to me is a gift, a gift you can take away at any time. I love you, dearly. Don’t you forget that everything I do is to bring you pleasure or to help you grow as a person. It is my job to challenge you, to guide you, and to care for you.”

  “I love you.” Maybe those words weren’t the right response. Maybe I should have said, Yes, Sir. But it just feels right. Looking into his eyes when I say it, seeing the relief written on his features, the joy… I am so glad I chose that as my response.

  Chapter 5

  Bentley takes me around the room and shows me all the different experiences the club has to offer, most of which I have experienced at my own club. The difference is, these are not human dominants, they are vampires. The first bite I witness has my body shaking, trembling so hard, I almost fall over.

  The vampire—also dressed entirely in black, I notice a theme amongst the men—has a beautiful redhead in his arms. The green dress brings out the color of her eyes, which appeared to be glowing in the red light of the room. The scene they’re playing out is electrifying—I can’t look away.

  He removes her dress with amazing precision; handling the fabric with care, he hands it off to another woman who is standing off to the side, nothing but a hand in the shadows at this moment. Underneath the dress, the redhead is completely naked. She is quite a vision: lean but muscular, a body well taken care of, soft in the right places, toned in the others.

  The vampire reaches up towards the ceiling and pulls down a chain with a short metal bar. Gently, he takes the redhead’s arms and stretches them above her head, securing them to the bar. The soft fur cuffs don’t look like they’d hold her, not if she really resisted, but I imagine that whatever he is about to do to her, is something she isn’t going to fight, if her hardened nipples and glazed eyes are any indication.

  He runs his nails down her body, sending visible goosebumps over her flesh. She licks her lips, and he says something only she could hear. He picks the flogger off of the small table beside her—it is only then that I realize the table is even sitting there. My eyes briefly go to the few other implements the vampire has laid out, but I can’t look away from the woman for long. The thudding of the flogger brings me right back to their scene.

  The dominant swings it with ease, his aim true with every strike. The weight of the flogger appears to massage her body rather than hurt it, as her moans of pleasure fill the air. Her perfect ass cheeks get the first volley of swats, followed by her back, then her thighs. Over and under hand, he swings it. It mesmerizes me. He pauses to ask her something and her response must not have been quick enough, for the next swat lands hard on her ass and she squeals, going up on her toes. A dark red mark appears in the place of the flogger’s tails of leather, a beautiful smudge on the blank canvas of her behind.

  I squirm with her, and Bentley tightens his hold on me. He too is a master at the flogger, and I love how he wields it—gently, as a whisper or a caress over my body, or harshly, as a punishment. I have been where she is, and I know how it feels…

  “Do you want to taste the flogger tonight?” Bentley asks quietly. Before I can answer, another sound catches my attention.

  The beautiful purple glow against the red light is entrancing. “He has these made specially, they aren’t your normal wands,” Bentley tells me. The wand is beautiful, the handle has a Celtic knot design woven into it, the bulb is a deep wine color. The vampire has removed his dress coat and rolled up his shirt sleeves, his bulky forearm muscles now prominently on display. He is quite the specimen.

  “Gymaholic,” I hear Bentley mutter under his breath, and have to wonder if there is a hint of jealousy in his tone.

  The redhead follows the vampire’s every move with her eyes. She tenses as he comes closer. Watching her, wearing nothing but her Venetian mask, her body on display for all of us, I feel like a real voyeur. It almost feels wrong watching the intimacy between the two of them—almost, but not enough to stop.

  “They’d be in a private room if they didn’t want an audience,” Bentley reassures me. The sound of the violet wand, a we
akened version of my electric fly swatter, has me hypnotized. This is one implement I have never played with. I’m morbidly curious. The dominant takes the wand and lightly places it near his submissive’s skin; bringing it downward, he touches her gently with it. The few other times I have seen a violet wand in action, the electricity was blue; this time, it is purple, the same color as the wand.

  The static electricity coming from it and dancing along her skin when the wand meets the flesh is beautiful. Watching them, I can tell they are fully in tune with each other, neither seeing anything but the other. She closes her eyes, her mouth opens just slightly, and she sways on the chain as the electric light dances up and down her skin. He moves it along the back of her arm, standing back from her, not too close. I wonder if the closer he gets to her with it, the more intense the shock would be?

  “Someday, you will be able to answer these questions from your own experience,” Bentley reassures me. I forgot how easily he reads my mind, and how we can hold a conversation without my ever saying a word out loud.

  The vampire walks back around his girl, dragging the wand over her buttocks. She hisses in pleasured pain, the masochist in her loving every second, the human in her wanting to pull away from the electricity.

  “I can smell her arousal,” Bentley says. “She loves this.”

  I watch the wand, almost as if it is alive itself, the static shock dancing from the bulb, moving across her fine butt. I watch as the dom steps closer, whispers something into her ear. She goes on her tiptoes, spreads her legs, and he dips the wand between them. I gasp in unison with her as the sparks fly from her most intimate parts. She screams: the most guttural, raw and amazingly awakening sound.

  The vampire chuckles as he walks back to the table. He picks up an orange glass dildo unlike any I’ve ever seen before. I realize then, it is another electric violet wand. He’s not! He won’t!