Be Careful Darling

DutchmansDomme © 2003. All rights reserved.

“Those eyes,” he breathed, finally speaking after several long moments of staring, “your pics didn’t prepare me for them.”

“Did you think they were a different color?” The eyes in question were very dark and shiny. Glittery. Like two chocolate marbles lit from within by an impossible fire. Their slanted shape emphasized the strange glow. Simultaneously hot and cold.

He shook his head slowly as though deeply puzzled. “No, it’s not the color. Or even the shape, I don’t think. It’s the way you use them.”

“Hmm,” she smiled, lifting her steaming tea mug to her lips and taking a casual sip. He swallowed hard, feeling his face suffuse with unaccustomed heat and color. He wasn’t used to feeling unsure of himself. This was going to be harder than he’d thought.

She was careful to modulate the light in her eyes as she gazed across the table at him. This was an old trick of hers. One she had mastered years ago to conceal her true feelings. To buy her a little extra time to better unravel her opponent’s secrets. But, she couldn’t resist worrying with her hair. Pulling the curly braids forward over her left shoulder. Running her hands through them as the spirals rolled away from her fingers like water. Then abruptly tossing the mass to let it tumble down her back.

If he had been more knowledgeable of psychology and social interaction, he would have had reason to feel reassured. Hmm, playing in her hair and swinging her foot. She liked him. A lot. But, since he couldn’t read the signs, her poker face did nothing to ease the uncomfortable tightness in his chest.

He was accustomed to silly girls whose faces were open books of giddy excitement. The kind who did not know the meaning of secrets, let alone how to keep one. He had made a prolonged habit of indulging himself with these vapid innocents. Now he had lost his ability to handle an unreadable woman like the one who sat before him. What an unlucky mistake.

An hour ago he had phoned her hotel room to let her know he had arrived. He had driven over in the middle of the night. Cloaked in darkness. From Germany to Holland. His excessive rate of travel was ridiculous. Even by European standards.

He had been trying in vain to get her to meet him for months. Offering to come to the States where she lived. All his usual tricks had failed him, until he had almost resigned himself to never seeing her face in person. But now, he had finally seized his opportunity while she was on holiday in Amsterdam. It was reckless and he was sacrificing the advantage he normally took for granted. But he felt he really had to see her and this was perhaps his only chance.

So here they sat. In a tiny after hours café. Surrounded by the noise of exhausted party goers who needed one last drop of entertainment before calling it a night. They were an odd couple. A black American woman. And a white Romanian man, by way of Germany. Seated together in a Middle Eastern diner in the center of Holland. Quite a cultural cocktail.

They were of a height. But she had him by 5lbs. And as far as he could tell, they were very well distributed along her voluptuous frame. She was curvy and firm and would look great in head to toe leather. But she had chosen instead to wear a simple pair of jeans with a fitted sweater and black, leather stiletto-heeled boots. He thought it probably didn’t matter what she wore. It was impossible to go wrong with such a perfect silhouette. He imagined her holding a whip. Then fantasized taking it from her and using it to bind her hands behind her back. Now that was more like it. Cocky restlessness surged within him, dulling his judgement. Yes, he would take control at the first opportunity.

When she stood up to dispose of the container that had held her french fries, he allowed his eyes to appraise her fully. Yes, she was quite a bit different from the girls he normally selected. He had made a habit of choosing his victims from amongst the women who frequented internet chat rooms. Those who were playing at BDSM, but were really just little girls acting out their fantasies online. Once he got them in person... alone... vulnerable... hoping for the best, they always broke and it was easy enough to take advantage of them.

This one, this Anais, might prove to be a special case. For months they had been playing games online. Domination...submission. She claimed to be a real live Domme. But so many on the net were fakers. He had no way of really being sure. On the phone she was remarkably personable. Her voice carried warmth and tenderness, but could change in an instant to the bitchiest of tones. He had never experienced anything like her. In short, she intrigued him.

She resisted all his usual ploys. His insistence that he only played “cam to cam” seemed to fall on deaf ears. Before he knew it, he was the one naked on his webcam performing unspeakable acts. And she offered not so much as a picture of herself as a sign of fairness. After that humiliating episode he had decided it was probably best to avoid her. But she beat him to the punch and blocked his Yahoo! ID. It soon became obvious that she could live the rest of her life without having further contact with him. And this ate away at his pride.

After a month or so, she unblocked his ID and he nearly went crazy to see her name popup on his buddy list. Despite his resolve to stay away from her, he found himself firing off a quick Hello. He was hooked after that. She set the pace and determined when they would speak and what about. Still he clung to the foolish notion that he could bend her to his will if he could just get her in person.

He preferred the Americans. These women didn’t seem to have the same healthy fear of a Romanian named Vladlu that their European sisters might harbor. They never made the connection to the Old Ones. Perhaps because they thought the Old Ones existed only in Anne Rice novels. Oh well, their oversight was his culinary delight. Besides, the American obsession with consuming sugary snacks meant their blood had a pleasantly sweet taste.

Vladlu had made almost a dozen trips to the U.S. to meet the women with whom he had played so deliciously online. Most were so gullible that he had easily gotten them to perform for him on their webcams. And though he assured them no one would see but himself, he often had a friend or two hiding in the shadows enjoying the show. He really didn’t respect these women any more than a hungry diner respects a succulent lambchop. He loved meeting them. Quickly taking charge of the situation. And then devouring yet another tender victim. Mmm. Looking at Anais’ ass he imagined that she might be the sweetest morsel of all.

Anais returned to their table and stood beside Vladlu instead of taking her seat. She stretched like a large cat before putting on her leather jacket and turning in question towards the exit. “Ready?” He got to his feet and followed her out the door.

They walked along the silent street looking out onto the dark, murky waters of one of the numerous canals. Her self assurance showed no signs of breaking. If anything she was silently feeding on every little hesitation he unwittingly exposed. He, who was so used to being the predator, did not take sufficient note of the danger signals that were flying off of her like sparks. What a pity.

Back at her hotel she did not take him upstairs immediately. Instead they sat in the lobby making small talk. He had expected to find a giggling girl at the end of those online chats and remarkable phone conversations. But instead she was proving to have claws sharper than even his own. She took him apart mentally. Making him question himself and his motives. He began to think that maybe he wouldn’t kill her after all. Maybe he would drink just enough to sate himself and allow him to return in the future for more of these enticing trysts. Runaway ego does not make a good consort in matters of grave importance. Unfortunately, dear Vladlu did not know this.

When Anais had tired of making public sport of him in the lobby, she finally allowed Vladlu to accompany her upstairs. He followed behind her with an unsteady gait. He still mistakenly thought he could regain his composure and save the evening. Even though he knew his resolve and control had slipped to dangerous depths. Whatever did this wonderful woman have planned for him? Would she make love to him? Offer him her beautiful body spread at his mercy? From the way she had been guiding the events, it didn’t really seem as likely as he wanted to pretend.

In the room she turned and looked at him, crinkling the corners of the glowing almonds that served as her eyes. “So, my sweet, you fancy yourself a sub, do you?” He was taken aback by her abruptness. In the lobby she had been more obtuse. Soft around the edges. Cajoling. Now here in a shroud of privacy she was piercingly direct. If he hadn’t known better he would have given way to the icy prickle of fear that had crawled down his back. But he chose to shake it off mesmerized by the sheer sexiness of her pose as she leaned against the locked door.

“Strip,” she ordered, gazing at him appraisingly. He hesitated for a moment. Trying to buy time with a joke that fell flat. The corner of her mouth turned up in a smirk as she arched her right brow. “Ha ha. Do IT.”

He swallowed hard as he began to remove the layers of his clothing. He peeled out of the fitted button-down and started pulling his long sleeved t-shirt over his head. He tried to control his breathing. He didn’t want her to know how she excited him. Disarmed him. Controlled him like a puppet. His traitorous hands shook as they continued to divest him of every scrap of protective covering. He pleaded with her to allow him to retain an article of clothing. He hoped for his briefs. She opted for his socks, chuckling that the room was a bit chilly.

Once she had him naked, she forced him to his knees before her as she sat on the edge of the bed watching him with that strange smile. It enticed and frightened him all at once. But his straining erection won out over his head as he forgot caution and willingly did her bidding. He felt overcome by complex emotions. The desire to maim, kill and devour seemed to have flown completely. Leaving him with an unusual docility. He felt naked in more ways than one. Raw and exposed. He wondered if these feelings had anything to do with love. He’d never experienced affection so he couldn’t be sure.

“Sweetie, do you know why I let you come here?” Anais reached out a silky hand and caressed his cheek causing a weird contraction in his chest. Was that his heart? He shook his head slightly and focused on her face again. Concentrating on the question.

“You wanted to play one of your games with me?” His offered answer seemed to amuse her a bit too much. Isn’t that why she thought they were here? He knew what his plan had been, but now he rather thought he could enjoy a kinky game or two and leave it at that.

Her smile widened as she now took his face in both of her hands. “Tasha was my friend, darling. Surely you remember her?” Tasha? Tasha.... Who the hell was Tas.... Oh. About six months ago he had made a trip to the States and had quite a delectable meal consisting of a sweet young thing named Tasha. Damn! Was that what this was all about? For the first time he let real fear wash over him. What was Anais planning?

Seeing the light of recognition in his eyes, Anais put her head back and laughed in a most wickedly delicious way. He almost thought that everything would still be OK. But when she brought her head back down he saw the light in her eyes shining at full force. Her beauty was terrible and vengeful and though he should have tried to escape he was as powerless as a flower seeking the sun. So he leaned into her more fully. Reaching for her hips as he buried his face in her lap. She stroked his back in a deceptively soothing manner.

“Get on the bed,” she commanded. As he climbed onto it, she walked over to the window and flung the curtains back. Outside it was the inky blackness that comes the instant before dawn. The bed faced the window fully and he was naked and exposed, helpless to save himself. He knew he should throw himself from the bed and try to regain the strength to leave before the sun rose. But her power! The power she had over him was absolute. Even knowing her intentions he felt pleasure in her dominance and control. So this is what it felt like to be a woman’s slave. Oh God! The delicious agony. The torturous pleasure!

Anais climbed on the bed behind Vladlu and began to run her hands caressingly down his side. “Touch yourself,” she whispered. Then smiled as she felt his arm shift so he could grasp his straining member. “Doesn’t that feel good, little one?”

“Yesss,” he moaned giving himself over to the erotic danger that consumed him. Each stroke of his hand threatened to send him over the edge. He could feel her fully-clothed body writhing against his back. The smooth leather of her boots caressing his legs as she arched against him. Simulating taking him just as he had taken his victims before biting into their delicate necks and draining their life force away.

“I’m going to give you what you gave my friend,” she promised him in a raspy voice. “Surrender to me, my love. We both know you like it.” With that she pulled his head back and exposed his neck. But instead of the slashing bite of a blood drinker, she merely licked, sucked and playfully nipped his flesh. Increasing his pleasure. Driving him insane with reckless ecstacy.

He felt his orgasm rising from the pit of his stomach. Racing over his limbs like a million fire ants as pleasure climbed his spine. “Oh, God!” His moan was piteous in it’s intensity.

“Why don’t you call on someone you know?” Her voice slashed the air just as the sun began to spill into the window. Vladlu felt a mixture of extreme pleasure and pain as his orgasm and life pumped out of his body simultaneous. The heat of passion increased unbearably as the sun caressed his flesh and consumed him. In just a moment he had vanished without a trace.

Anais hopped up off the bed and got her suitcase out of the closet. She placed his discarded clothes in a paper sack which she intended to toss in the dumpster outside. Hearing the jingle of keys in his pocket she retrieved them and looked down into her palm. A vampire who drove a Range Rover. Fancy that. She felt a giggle bubble up inside her. Well at least she wouldn’t have to call a taxi. She’d leave his car at the airport.