Page 94 of Vampire's Choice
She blamed that on Merc. He had eroded her resistance. Which didn’t mean she didn’t want him right here, right now, so he could keep grinding it down.
They moved to a suspension scene. A flexible Asian Indian woman was tied so her back was bowed in a U-shape, her arms bound securely to her sides. The rope Dom had used green and black rope and attached a line of fringe beneath it. He’d turned her into a human caterpillar. Her hair was tied in two high ponytails, giving her antenna. A rope over her forehead kept her head raised to show the henna tattoo around her neck and sparkling studs along the shells of her ears. Her Master rotated her on a hook to display her to an appreciative audience.
A sharp clap pulled Ruth’s attention to another couple. The Dom was applying a paddle to the reddened bare ass of the female he had stretched over one of the balls the clowns used to roll across the ring for their acts.
The woman was one of those clowns, but she didn’t wear her colorful silks and bright blue wig tonight. Her face was painted, but differently. Her cheekbones were sharp slashes, her mouth a pursed bow. A track of golden stars followed one cheek bone, outlined her eye socket, then arched over her brow.
She wore only an upper body harness and collar, her pussy and breasts exposed. Her nipple clamps were threaded with a thin rope her top had taken through her collar and three D-links in the back of the harness. Because of that, she had to keep her upper body lifted and balanced on the ball, or the pull against the nipples would become painful.
As the paddle hit her buttocks, she jerked, a strangled shriek coming from her, but she stayed in the arched position. Which Ruth knew only spiked the arousal. The dampness in her own palms became slicker.
The Big Top was a dungeon tonight, populated by athletic, flexible people capable of turning every scene into an erotic art performance. Stills could be captured on film, put in a gallery and cherished by those who understood how to interpret them. Ruth would slip into such a gallery, past closing, and walk past each one. Alone but safe to gaze her fill, fantasize about feeling the way each of those submissives did. Serving their Masters and Mistresses.
She’d known what Merc meant about his unsated hunger, even as she understood the key differences. If he didn’t control his desires, he would kill. If she released hers, the only one that would die would be her—emotionally at first, and then physically, because she wouldn’t accept being treated as someone’s slave.
She inhaled the scent of the woman’s desire. Her body twitched every time the paddle hit, her sex contracting between her tightening thighs.
“Do you want to play?” asked an unfamiliar male voice.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Plenty of troupe members enjoyed just watching, like she and Clara did. But some were seeking a playmate.
The man who’d asked Ruth the question was one of the newer roustabout hires, so either he didn’t know she was a vampire, or that vampires were all dominants.
The muscular and tanned male had a handsome mix of Malaysian and English features. Dark, penetrating eyes, thick hair, and he was on the tall and broad-shouldered side, flattered by the jeans, boots, and long-sleeved snug shirt he wore. His calm assessment gave her that unsettling jolt that a Master’s regard always did.
Fortunately, he was human, so it melted away after the first flush.
“We can talk about your preferences.” His teeth flashed, his expression honest and straightforward. “I play anywhere from beginner to extreme. I just like having a beautiful woman responding to my hand.”
Ruth opened her mouth to answer, but was stopped by a feeling that wrapped around her, a binding so cold it burned the skin at first touch.
It was to keep her from interfering. The main blast of that energy had a target, and it wasn’t her.
The Dom took a step back as if pushed. His gaze darted around her. No matter how new he was, if he was part of the Circus, he was aware of how many of its members might express their displeasure using magical means.
She gave him credit. He didn’t cut and run. He held his ground long enough for a courteous nod. “My apologies. To you and your Master.” Then he moved away.
“I don’t believe it.”
The frozen rope feeling dissipated, but Ruth still felt its hold in her churning reaction. She did her best to focus on Clara’s comment, laced with quiet astonishment. The girl had stayed at the suspension scene while Ruth wandered over to the impact play, but had now rejoined her with the incredulous comment. She hadn’t noticed Ruth’s predicament, which was probably a good thing.
The fortune teller glanced meaningfully toward the far end of the Big Top. Merc was perched in the scaffolding. He had one fist pressed against a beam, his muscled arm taut as he crouched, balanced by fully outspread wings. The traces of white and gleaming ends flickered with the lightning flashes. Though his expression was shadowed, she could feel his gaze upon her. The echo of his message to the Dom was reverberating inside of her still.
Hands off.
It had caused ripples through the tent. Players and onlookers shifted uneasily and looked around for an imminent threat. Fortunately, after only a puzzled pause, that feeling melted away and they returned to their play.
For Ruth, there was no abatement. It had embedded itself in her pounding heart and trembling lower belly. Maybe because she was holding onto it with both hands.
“As you can tell from our conversation earlier, I’ve never noticed him here before. He doesn’t make his presence known. Apparently, he felt the need tonight.”
A slight smile touched Clara’s lips, a mix of companionable female humor and concern as her gaze slid over Ruth. “You want me to stay close or make myself scarce?”
“I doubt he’s going to leave his perch. But…”
Clara’s eyes shifted to her left, and that twinkle in her gaze increased. Ruth’s eyes briefly closed.