Infernal Seduction

The club was filled nearly to the brim, as it often – maybe always – was on such rare evenings. The event had been advertised in the usual manner: private invitations sent discreetly to the residences of those club members for whom the event would hold a particular interest, and more general advertisements placed for weeks prior in the entrance way as well as in appropriate niche publications. On most nights, Infernal was only a typical dance/night club catering to those whose tastes fell in line with the gothic, the industrial, or simply the more alternative. Music would pump from the wall-and-ceiling embedded speakers; the floor would throb with the beat of subwoofers; and the crowd would become a writhing mass of dancing bodies.

On such special nights, the music was kept lower and the dance floor filled with seating for a crowd instructed to be quiet. Silence was hardly expected; respect for the event and its organizers, however, was demanded. A dress code was even put in place on such nights, requiring every patron to be appropriately attired in something more formal – again, in order to better respect the event's organizers, and more specifically its performers. After all, why else would the dance floor be made into seating and why else would a stage be erected save for a performance?

Though the club's lighting remained dim and atmospheric, the stage was at all times visible and well-lit. This night, it had been prepared a centerpiece which was at once tantalizing with its potential uses and nonetheless simple in design: a frame, forming an X and padded with polished leather, set upon a platform which would allow it to rotate between upright and horizontal. Even an hour before the show was to begin, the crowd already murmured with questions as to the frame's use, and both predictions and suspicions as to the answers to those questions. Who would be placed upon it? Who would do the placing? Would this night be made particularly special by Her appearance?

Ten minutes prior to the performance, some answers were provided. A girl familiar to those for whom Infernal was a regular haunt made her way to the stage and faced the crowd, many of whom could only just restrain themselves from gawking – as had been expected. Even in Infernal, after all, it was not every night the crowd would be presented with the familiar gothling – a title she had given herself – clad not in satin or silk, but in latex. The outfit was both a mockery of innocence and a paean to sin, with the shining black of the latex poured over the gothling's frame and left clinging with the jealous possessiveness of a particularly demanding lover. It all began with six inch heels and inch high platforms; fishnet stockings; and a skirt which from the front was a smooth panel ending at mid-thigh (and from behind, was nearly nonexistent save for the straps holding in place at the backs of her thighs, leaving her heart-shaped ass bare). Above that, the mockery was more apparent in its summation of a Catholic schoolgirl's uniform made slutty. Her makeup and hair served only to further the mockery, with the pink-bubblegum of shining lips and dark shadowing as well as her black hair held in pigtails.

It was not until the din of questions and suspicions died down entirely that the girl spoke, and though her voice was girlish and her speech prone to somehow mix London and the ever-questioning lilt of a valley girl, she commanded attention readily. "You have like, ten minutes. Tonight's performers will be out soon or whatever, but you're all probably wondering who they are." The bubblegum-pink of her mouth took a bemused smirk as the crowd nodded and murmured in the affirmative. "Well, you're probably in for a treat or something."

Of course, she knew who the performers were. She knew the answers to all those questions still running through the crowd. Still, she held the answers at bay for a long moment, until the crowd began again to grow restless for answers. Longer still, until at last one of the patrons nearest the stage played his part and made a demand, exasperation filling his voice: "Oh, just tell us, Susi."

Her name given, Susi – the gothling, the schoolgirl, the slut – grinned.

"Lilith. And a guest."

At the first name, the crowd went silent. Even those not yet familiar with the woman who whom the name belonged had heard rumors or had her described by other patrons – and never did any such description ever seem to be true. Infernal's patrons familiar with the woman seemed etranced when they discussed her, so that their almost florid descriptions of her could not help but seem unreal and exaggerated. Yet to ask those providing the descriptions would find that they never felt their words were enough.

With the names – or at least, one name – thus provided, Susi stepped away from the stage and left the crowd to its newly raised din of excitement. Minutes passed slowly after, as men and women alike spoke among themselves and grew ever more curious. Fantasies began to take shape the moment Lilith's name was provided, and in those minutes after those fantasies began to take shape and to anchor themselves in the minds of those for whom such dreams held greatest sway. Yet these remained mere fantasies; and the reality remained moments – then seconds – away; and then, fantasies were vanquished altogether by the first firm strike of a heel against hard wood, and then the second, and the third.

Lilith made her way to the stage from one side, so that the crowd could follow her with their eyes. Like Susi before, she was clad in latex; unlike the schoolgirl-slut-gothling who had set the crowd into a small furor simply by providing a name, there was no mockery of the innocent in her outfit, nor modesty. Her body was hugged by a catsuit, polished to such a shine that the crowd could be certain they would see their own reflection, if only they were fortunate enough to be nearer to her. A zipper at the catsuit's front had been left only partly done up, so that even from afar her cleavage could not help but invite and tantalize, especially given their size.

And yet, exquisite though her body was especially in motion with the roll of hips and ass, it was always Lilith's face which held the most attention. To say Lilith was gorgeous would be to say the Sistine Chapel was pretty; it would be so impossible an understatement as to become almost an insult. No matter the differences in taste and no matter preferences, one thing remained true no matter who spoke of Lilith: she was always, impossibly, the single most beautiful woman they had ever laid eyes upon. There was something sharp in her beauty; something too perfect to be real; and it was this even more than her breasts which led to rampant rumors of a surgeon's art being to blame.

Lilith's lips were full and cherry-red, impossible not to imagine kissing or wrapped around some fortunate man. Her cheekbones were high, her chin somehow both delicate and not, her eyebrows made into perfect crimson arches over eyes which were – surely courtesy of theatrical contacts – sanguine in hue. Her hair matched, falling in loose waves to the middle of her back like a silken waterfall dipped in blood. She was, in short, a gothic and fetishist wet dream – and that she held in one hand the fine chain of a leash made the dream only wetter.

At the other end of the leash, following every slow and beating step of impossibly high heels, came a man on hands and knees. Slender and surely tall were he to stand upright, the man was naked save for a pair of leather shorts, his olive skin shining either with sweat or oil. Though he could not match his Mistress for attention, in most other contexts there could be little doubt that he would as readily hold attention – not because he was handsome, but because he was beautiful. Though entirely masculine and in no way feminine – save perhaps the way he crawled, and the roll of his shoulders and his hips alike with every surge forward – no other word would suffice for the man, whose hair had been shaved at the sides so that he wore a long mohawk which flopped to one side and provided an elegant veil for his face.

Once they had ascended the stage, Lilith drew the leash tighter and tighter, until the man was no longer on his hands and knees but merely kneeling at her side, with his cheek pressed to the curve of her hip. If before Susi had commanded attention with her voice, Lilith made it a compulsion to attend to her voice, a necessity not to be denied. Hers was a low purr, sultry and thick, filled with an arrogance which could have been off-putting but which was, upon Infernal's stage, perfection itself.

"You are all familiar enough with me." She began slowly, shaping every syllable with languid delight. "But not, perhaps, him."

The man perked at that, straightening just enough in his kneeling position to preen at the attention falling upon him.

"Let us call him Toy, for he is nothing else this night. Whatever he may call himself outside my presence is unimportant; whatever he is away from my side, equally so. He is Toy – not my Toy, not your Toy; merely Toy."

No matter that he was made almost an unperson, Toy – a name which will as readily work here as in the minds of the audience that night – could only preen all the more, and even smile.

That smile faded, however, when Lilith abruptly turned on a heel and tugged at the leash, propelling Toy again to hands and knees so that he crawled to the frame toward which he was led. Only at the frame did Lilith allow him to rise, slowly, to his feet; and only then to turn to again face the audience and spread first his arms above him so that she could strap each of his wrists to the frame, circling behind him. Then with the urging of her foot kicking lightly at his ankles, Toy spread his legs, and was duly strapped to the frame at his ankles. Only once he was secure did Lilith circle again and come to stand before him, facing the crowd while she leaned slowly back against the bound Toy.

Slowly, Lilith's hips worked against Toy behind her, rolling and grinding almost imperceptibly while she lifted a hand to cup his cheek.

"You were told only that I would be performing this evening. Shall I tell you precisely what I will be doing to – and with – Toy?"

Lilith waited only a moment for the crowd to nod or murmur or otherwise make known their desire to know, while her lips curved slowly in an indulgent smile.

"I am going to make him hard for you. I am going to make him ache for you. He will, before I am done, beg with his body if not his voice to be used by whomever I choose from among you. He may, before the evening is finished, find satisfaction; he may not. That, lovely people, will be your choice to make on his behalf."

So began the evening's entertainment.