Vampire Trinity by Joey W Hill, now you can read online.
Prologue
“INSATIABLE,”one of her favorite songs, was weaving its magic through I the shadows and flashing lights of Club Atlantis. Bodies moved in sinuous silhouette on the dance floor to that sensual underbeat, somewhere between slow and fast. Her attuned senses detected a variety of things. Perfumes and colognes, the musk of arousal and perspiration. Provocative laughter, the rush of a hundred different conversations and stories. Club Atlantis was a cauldron of life tonight, the sexual heat rising by the moment.
The sharp snap of a whip. A cry of pain, mixed with lust. She cocked her head. Someone was using a single tail in the public play area. Someone closer, probably along Pleasure Alley, was caning their slave, that sharp, brief slice through the air that most wouldn"t hear, lost in the dance music or other crowd noise.
But she heard it. This was a dream, and in dreams the senses detected whatever the dream demanded. However, even if she really stood in Atlantis right now, she would hear, smell and see everything as acutely. The aromas, the variations of light and shadow, even the currents of air, stirred by the movement of bodies dancing, writhing, fucking or kneeling, would swirl along her skin and leave invisible imprints like intricate tattoos.
In dream or reality, she could experience all those things now, because she was a vampire.
In this dream, however, she was still her human self. It was one of her favorite dreams, and it had been coming more frequently of late. It was five years ago, the night she met Daegan Rei. Did a moth know that the flame was going to change her life forever, or did she simply fly toward that heated embrace, knowing it would offer her something she couldn"t give herself?
In the end, the answer didn"t really matter. The moth had never wanted the choice.
Making her rounds through Club Atlantis on a busy night gave her a deep, abiding pleasure.
Feeling the energy spun by all the people here, come to satisfy their craving to Dominate or be Dominated, knowing that she"d contributed to almost every detail of the setting and atmosphere for that experience—there was nothing like it. As she moved through the club, she watched faces, emotions, body language. She"d zero in on anything that wasn"t quite right, someone who wasn"t getting the experience they desired. She worked the floor, providing guidance where needed, a warm word, a subtle suggestion, a light touch to direct attention in the right place.
A Mistress herself, she was aware of the gazes of unattached submissives following her, hoping she might choose one of them for a session, as she sometimes did. She also felt the speculative glances of Masters and Mistresses who"d like the chance to share a sub together, learn from each other"s techniques.
The desire to maximize a customer"s experience wasn"t about money, though Club Atlantis"s success spoke for itself. She understood what each unique soul sought here, and whether she could provide it. It was a skill she loved having. Her heart beat inside Atlantis, because it was who she was, what she wanted.
At times, in her bed at the end of an evening, she"d feel that heartbeat slow, and a yearning would settle into her, to find what others found within her walls. She knew her needs were more complex than most Mistresses. She wanted someone to belong to her, to be her slave exclusively, his heart, soul and mind willingly surrendered. However, there was an additional, vital component to her need as well, one that seemed beyond her power to describe. When it at last stood before her, in whatever manifestation met her deepest desires, she knew she would understand it.
That night, her intuition and her yearning clasped hands and gave her that miracle. A gift and curse at once, as Fate often was.
She drifted along the eastern wing of the club, with its wide platform view of the bar, the dance area and one of the public play areas that was crafted like a metal undersea world. Cages were designed as a coral reef, submissives bound there with restraints like seaweed. The St.
Andrew"s crosses were weathered driftwood and embedded in the side of a partial shipwreck.