by C. R. Moss
The end of the hall brightened. A strong bass beat blared and faded.
“Welcome to tonight’s party at Hexenringe,” a man’s falsetto voice crooned over a loud speaker. A popular alternative song, dark and foreboding in its lyrics and music, proceeded his announcement.
Following the lights and voice, Jack strolled down the hall, rounded the corner and stopped at the mouth of the corridor.
A grand area loomed in front of him, taking up what he figured to be the front half of the warehouse. Metal girders and walkways hung from the ceiling and from them lights and lasers suspended. Sections with bistro tables and chairs flanked three sides of an empty dance floor in the center of the room. The beams from the laser and strobe lights swirled on the wood dance square. On the fourth side velvet maroon curtains with gold brocade trimming and tassels hung over a stage. To the left and right of the raised platform, bartenders worked behind bars decorated with elaborate wood carvings and brass fixtures—reminiscent of a long gone gilded era—and served the patrons. In the shadows along the borders of the club, men and women lounged on chaises, couches and pillows of various sizes and colors, talking and drinking. Some couples and threesomes were a tangled mess of arms and legs in different states of undress and public displays of affection.
The club appeared to be a haven for beautiful people with their tailored clothes, perfect hair, faces and bodies. He shook his head. How could so many people in one place appear to have no flaws?
Strolling along the wall, Jack kept in the deep shadows and stopped a couple feet away from the first set of couches. The couple on the nearest settee, engaged in a heavy make out session, didn’t flinch at his approach, gave no quick acknowledging looks or twitches. When they broke apart to take a breath, he caught no sign of fangs, real or fake.
Humans. That answers that question.
The bass-laden song ended, drenching the area in a weird silence with only the chatter of the patrons filling the void. The heavy stage curtains swished open. A tall, lanky man in a pair of tight electric blue sequined shorts, matching knee-high platform boots and a hot pink boa took center stage. “Ladies and Gents and all my Gay-dies out there, listen up,” the falsetto voice cried over the speakers. “It’s time for Hexenringe’s Beefcake Review.”
Club goers at the tables and in the shadows cheered and clapped, their bright white teeth glowing abnormally behind their smiles. The glint of fangs in a few nearby drew Jack’s attention. Ah, good to know. He marked them in his memory for future reference—just in case—and moved along a dark walkway farther into the club, searching for some sign of who invited him.
Boa-draped-man raised his arms and the crowd hushed. “Now what you all need to do is strip down to your skivvies and come up here and strut your stuff for us. If you want to come up here dressed and put on a little striptease show, that’s fine, too.” In exaggerated showmanship, he flounced the boa’s feathers against his bald head, then waved the ends in the air. “The man with the best package signaled by the loudest cheers will win V I P seating for him and two others.” The man pointed up to a spot above everyone’s heads.
Jack stepped away from the hall and looked up. Men and women stood at a railing in a loft area above what he assumed was the hall and rooms he’d just exited. A few patrons who were leaning over the banister waved.
“Also,” the event host crooned. “Nudity is not necessary to win, but we won’t discourage it either.” He tittered, jutted out a bony hip and winked. “Let the games begin!” The man clapped the ends of the boa together, spun, kicked up a heel and sashayed off stage.
Techno music filled the air. People jumped up from their seats, shucked their clothes, women included, and swarmed the dance floor in excited frenzy. Beautiful bodies clothed in all types of underwear from white cotton and colorful silk briefs to lingerie pieces and lacey bras and panties gyrated to the music.
A spotlight lit the host who stood stage left. “All right Gents and Gay-dies, step on up. Don’t be shy.”
Several men, who were subtle variations of the same theme—physically toned, well taken care of, some with bigger cocks than others, if the bulges in their underwear were any indication—took the stage all at once in a dancing orgy. Occasionally, a scantily clad woman or two would strut alongside a man, and though Jack was intrigued, he wasn’t there to watch some unisex striptease, underwear contest.
That was until a gorgeous man on stage seized his attention along with everyone else’s. The ebony-haired man, shirtless but dressed in white drawstring pants, sauntered around the stage. Jack had heard of women relating men to the God Adonis, but he never understood the correlation until now.
The dancer’s chiseled, tan chest, a sight to behold in itself, tapered to a trim waist. Flipping his full head of shoulder length hair, he held his arms out to the sides and turned in slow model fashion, then, when he faced the crowd, he unfastened the ties around his waist.
Fascinated with his strange interest in the man, Jack strolled through the bistro area, toward the side of the stage, keeping his focus on the dark haired gent, not wanting to take his gaze off him. He’d never been attracted to another man before with such a strong force. There’d been times when he’d been questioning life and some choices he’d made and he'd checked out a few guys, thought about what it’d be like to be with them, but no opportunities ever arose to satisfy the smidgen of curiosity he’d had.
The ties on the dancer’s pants slipped loose. Fingers hooked the waistband. The man pushed the flimsy material to the floor, revealing an aqua-colored thong with an anatomical pouch cradling a large package. Turning, he presented two smooth, tanned butt cheeks and slapped them. He snapped the small triangle of fabric at the top center of his ass. He twirled back toward the audience, popping out his dick, then replacing it in its cradle.
The view of the man’s hard-on had been quick, but it had been enough. Jack’s cock pulsed, grew, pressed against his jeans again, reminding him of its presence, and that he should find Kristina.
The crowd’s roar was a good indication the man was amongst the favored. Hell, the dancer had his vote.
The handsome guy grabbed his pants, hurried off the stage and down the side steps.
Well, it’s either find my girl or appease any inquisitiveness toward being with a member of the same sex. Like maybe with Mr. Sexy who’s coming toward me.
Jack stopped several inches short of running into the dancer, who happened to be the same height as his six-foot frame. The man smiled. His dazzling gray eyes twinkled. The dancer reminded Jack of someone, but he couldn’t place who. The guy dropped his pants, grabbed the back of Jack’s head and planted his lips on his. The kiss was harsh, demanding, but the man didn’t seem to care, so neither did Jack. His free hand traveled down and cupped the bulge hiding in Jack’s jeans. Tingles raced through his body, and Jack wondered what the feel of the dancer’s hand on his naked cock would be like.
For the merest of moments, the man swept his tongue into Jack’s mouth. He tasted of a nutty, roasted flavor with a sweet tinge. Caramel perhaps? Jack made a note to find the beer the dancer drank beforehand and read the ingredients.
Loving the play of his tongue against his, Jack was about to reciprocate in the intensity of the kiss, but the dancer broke it off.
“I’m glad you approved,” the man’s tenor voice purred in a hint above a whisper.
Jack wasn’t sure if he meant how Jack didn’t mind the stranger planting one on him, touching him or the thought he had about what he’d been drinking, or all of it, so he just nodded.
“Come.” The man presented his long fingered hand with a charming smile.
Surprised how it didn’t faze him to accept it, he grinned, and where they touched, Jack’s skin sizzled. His knees seemed to weaken, and the only thought running through his lust-addled brain was that he’d follow the dancer anywhere, do anything the man wanted him to do.
The dancer winked, making him feel like his mind was an open book to him, and
guided him to a door between the bar and stage. After stepping through the doorway, the man shut the door, encasing them in darkness. His hand tugged Jack’s. In silence, the dancer led him through the dark. How? He didn’t know. But in a weird way, Jack trusted him not to lead him astray.
Several feet in, the man stopped. “I am pleased you made the right decision to come here tonight.” His hot breath fanned Jack’s cheek.
Jack wished he could see the man and how close he actually was to him. If he moved his head, would he be able to kiss the guy in the thong? He cleared his throat. “Well, first off I came to find my woman. Secondly, your invitation seemed to be one I couldn’t ignore, and…” Jack paused. And what? Now that he was here, he found himself aroused and craving the man’s attention. Could he admit that aloud?
“And?” The man licked the edge of his ear.
Desire within Jack spiked, and heat fanned out from his ear and encompassed his neck. He gulped. “And now I think I want you.”
“That so? You want me? Good. What if I want to tie or chain you up? Have my way with you in all sorts of kinky ways?”
All sense left Jack, leaving in its departure a raging libido. Relief, he realized, was just an agreement away. “Sure. I’m up for anything you want to do.”
The dancer grabbed and braced Jack against the wall. Usually, if a guy tried to subdue him, Jack would have fought back and exerted his own dominance. But with the man who was pressing his naked—but for a thong—body against his, he didn’t want to. All his years of training to be in control and on top of things and learning how to listen to his gut fell to the wayside. The guy had him mesmerized, had him yearning for another person’s touch like never before. He pressed his crotch up against the dancer’s, rubbed their bulges against each other.
Good. Do not fight me.
The man’s voice stated the command in Jack’s mind, and a cold snap of fear shocked him out of the horny stupor he’d been in. Before Jack could do anything to resist him, there was a sharp prick in his arm. A hot, thin trail snaked up beneath his skin from whatever drug he’d been injected with.
Son of a bitch. Where in the hell had the guy hidden a needle? He wasn’t wearing anything.
A soft impish chuckle filled the black void they stood in. Sidero. That answers that question. Dizziness consumed Jack. His knees buckled for real.
As he started to sink to the floor, the man tried to hold him up by sticking his arms under Jack’s armpits.
“What the hell did you do that for, Sidero?” the dancer inquired.
Wooziness overcame Jack. He shut his eyes, and the last thing he heard was the woman’s terse reply, “Cause, Kol, I thought you needed some help.”
Chapter Five
The first sight to greet Jack when he woke was the man who’d invited him to the party, Kol Ainmire, sitting in an oversized blood-red wing back chair. Dressed in his pants again, he had one leg draped over an arm of the piece of furniture and lounged in it as if he hadn’t a care in the world. Kol’s shoulder length hair, slicked back by either water or gel, gleamed with a nice shine in the subdued golden glow of the room.
Jack tried to move, to talk, but he was immobile. His arms stretched up and out as if he were the Y in YMCA. Attempting to bring his hands together, he encountered a bar between them. Chains rattled. His legs were spread apart, too, in the same manner. Some kind of device plugged his mouth. A hole in the middle of it allowed him to breathe but not speak.
An audible click sounded above him, followed by a cool brush of air. Air conditioning. As it graced his skin, his cock twitched in response. Completely bare, save for the restraints around his wrists and ankles, Jack stared at the man with wide-open eyes.
“Yes, you are naked, Jack, and Kristina was right. You are in fine form.”
What did Kol mean by that?
All in due time, Kol stated in his mind. The dancer, all lean muscle, rose and strode over to Jack, cat-like in his approach. He stopped a few inches in front of Jack’s body. Heat radiated between them.
Jack couldn’t look anywhere except into Kol’s enticing gaze.
“Do not be afraid. Look into your soul, and you will find that you already know me.”
Primal senses and knowledge kicked in. Jack somehow understood what Kol wanted him to do. Yet his logic and investigative side took over. He wanted answers. “Excuse me?” Jack attempted the inquiry, but the gag prohibited the words from sounding anywhere near their original form.
“I see you’re fighting what you already know to be true. All right then. Perhaps this will help.” He meandered to an electronics panel in the beige wall near a door, pressed a button and a keyboard slid out of a hidden compartment.
Jack took the opportunity to assess the space he was in the best he could with his limited mobility. Seemed he was detained in some kind of grand-sized office. To one side of the entry, was a large cherry wood desk. A chair sat in front of it—a match to the one Kol had vacated. On the other side was a library of sorts. Bookcases stretched up to the high ceiling. Leather couches and chairs, the likes of which he’d only seen in high-end homes, were arranged around a sturdy cherry wood coffee table. No windows. But little red lights against black objects in the upper corners of the room let him know that he was being watched.
The place seemed way too established to be located at a temporary location. He feared he was no longer in the nightclub, which meant he was further from finding Kristina than he liked.
“You would be correct. You’re no longer at the club,” Kol supplied, keying in a few more commands. The typing pad disappeared back into the wall.
The contraption Jack hung on rotated him away from his view of the door and Kol. Rich, elaborate tapestries floated on invisible wires from the ceiling. Pedestals with glass boxes on top showcased various items one usually could only see at museums.
When the machine stopped, Jack’s gaze fell upon Kristina. She sat in a human sized bronze birdcage. Metal rods that fed through the bars poked into her porcelain skin. Her red hair swept up into a bun gave her a mock facelift. Around her head was a black harness, and a bit rested between her teeth. Kristina’s arms were pulled above her head, and her wrists were clamped within cuffs molded to the top of the cage. Thin chains and leather straps wrapped around her torso. The silver and black only rested above and below her breasts, leaving her chest exposed.
Anger boiled through him seeing her imprisoned in such a way. He wanted to break free from his own bonds and pummel Kol’s head in.
Kristina lifted her face and her gaze caught Jack’s. She winked. Any fears he had in regard to her predicament and comfort, and his ire over her situation, deflated. He studied her again, and this time his cock reacted to the erotic picture she portrayed.
I gather you’re okay? He stretched his thoughts out toward her. Sometimes they were able to communicate telepathically with each other. He hoped this was one of those times, then tried not to snort his disdain. Telepathic thoughts. She was an elf. When he’d first met her, they’d shared a couple of magical, other worldly interactions. And yet, he still didn’t believe in the paranormal. What is wrong with me?
Kristina tittered. Nothing’s wrong with you, darling, and I’m fine now that you’re here. I see you’ve become acquainted with the beast.
Her gaze flickered with caution or perhaps worry. Beast? Jack breathed hard through the hole in the gag. Something about all this didn’t seem right. Why’d she call such a handsome fellow a horrible name like that?
Footsteps fell behind him on the wooden floor. Seconds later Kol’s breath warmed his neck. The dancer’s finger stroked the cleft of his ass, teased the puckered hole. Jack jerked away from his touch and received a stinging slap on his ass.
Hey!
Kol came around him, keeping his hand on Jack’s waist as he did so. The stroking of Kol’s palm on his skin sent a flood of desire through him. Jack did his best to will away the arousal this time.
After trailing a hand down Jack’s th
igh, Kol then cupped his balls. “Why are you trying to repress your natural urges?” His fingers toyed with his sac then slid up and rimmed his tight sphincter once more. “Didn’t I tell you to look within? Realize what is true?”
Natural? True? Jack closed his eyes, pondering the dancer’s words. Had his past curiosities been more than what he’d thought them to be?
“And as for the beast comment, this is why.”
Opening his eyes, Jack gazed upon an ugly creature. Beast didn’t come close to describing him. Words like hideous ogre and pure evil was more like it. Kol’s greenish white skin reminded him of the stuff that came out of him when he was sick. The creature’s flat face rippled with deep wrinkles and folds of skin. Two tear drop shaped holes sat where a nose should be. Narrow, pointy ears stuck out on the side of his head. The rest of his tall humanoid body followed suit with the same wrinkly colored skin of his face. Claws, like the black of night, tipped the ends of his long, bony fingers.
Bile rose in Jack’s throat. He hoped the hot acidic juices would stop before they reached his mouth since the gag prevented any exit for a retching reflex.
Despair clouded Kol’s eyes and features. “I wish I could have been confident that the two of you would have willingly come here for me. It hurts that I had to use trickery to gain your attentions and company. But no matter. You’re here now.”
What Jack would guess to be a smile lit the creature’s face. All those teeth and the fangs… His stomach churned again.
“Now, say goodbye to each other, Jack and Kristina. I can’t have the two of you having your tête-à-têtes, especially if I’m not in the room.”
No! She and Jack screamed in unison.
Kol waved a claw tipped hand and Kristina’s retorts snapped off. After months of communicating and being around her in a certain way, to hear complete and utter silence, be disconnected, was odd and unsettling.
