Free Vampire Mistress by Joey W. Hill

beneath a thin, stretched fabric. He realized she’d changed shirts, a fabric that didn’t seem to have any trouble sliding over the slick surface of his skin. But he wanted the intimacy of her flesh.
    “If it was only sex you wanted, you’d jerk off in whatever dive you burrow during the daylight hours. From your clothes, your body, I can tell you don’t give yourself much. But for some reason, you’ve given yourself this. Which means it’s a very, very powerful need. You hate that, believe that it’s weakness that brought you here, searching for something you don’t understand.”
    Her fingers dropped, closed around his cock, and he made that strangled, involuntary sound again, even as he grew more solid in her hand, every nerve ending straining toward the touch of slim, firm fingers. “You sought the darker levels of my club, like you seek the darker levels of yourself. Down here, sex is merely the gateway to what the soul wants.”
    She didn’t need implements of torture. Her tongue was sufficient, and with his pressed down by that ball gag, he was helpless to stop her. Letting him go, she moved around to his front. Her fingers glided wherever they wished, in no pattern he could anticipate, another torture. Up, caressing his throat beneath the collar. Down to a nipple, skirting it to explore his rib cage. Then a serpentine, lazy path across his abdomen. Her thigh brushed his again, the hard rubber of the dildo a vague threat. His cock leaked more fluid, and a drop splashed against his foot.
    A soft, moist tongue licked it away, making him start as it teased the sensitive crevice between two of his toes.
    “Janet is still here,” his Mistress said in a conversational tone. “I could tell you particularly liked her. Men may look at supermodels, but that’s not what they want beneath them. When it comes to fucking, males want the full, big tits, the soft belly and generous, ripe ass.”
    Gideon sucked in a breath as Janet’s mouth closed over his cock with a blissfully flexible tongue. She teased the base ring, sucked on the length of his shaft, a slow, easy rhythm that made him groan with the friction of the metal against straining flesh.
    Was she going to watch him totally lose control, be blown off?
    His Mistress laid her head on his shoulder now, her arm sliding under his to stroke his back in broad, drifting sweeps. From the shift of her body he thought she might have passed an affectionate hand over Janet’s hair as well. The strap-on was pressed to his belly, where his own cock would be, hard and tall, if it weren’t chained down.
    “You’re looking for more than that generous ass, though.” She moved again, another circle of touches, the occasional treasure of her mouth, sipping here and there on his neck, his shoulder, the tender skin between his shoulders. Which tensed as his Mistress leaned in behind him again. Meanwhile, Janet sucked away at his cock, so that his legs were trembling. She was too damned good. He was going to explode, and he didn’t want to do that. Couldn’t do this.
    His tormentor rubbed her face between his shoulder blades, wound her arms around his chest. It was a gesture of comfort, reassurance, that lasted one breath before she scraped across his nipple with that razor blade.
    He arched up with a hiss, the fiery pain wrapping itself up with the thrust into Janet’s mouth. When he felt that dildo again, pressed against his buttock, he tensed immediately, but his Mistress remained leaning against his body, holding him in a light clasp of her arms. Idly, she played with his nipples, then followed the line of hair that arrowed down his abdomen toward the busy Janet. The submissive was making hungry little humming noises in the back of her throat, such that he couldn’t help but imagine her before him on her knees, head moving and gorgeous ass quivering and tits wobbling as she worked him. If he was free, he’d be tempted to pull back her head and spill his seed over them,