Big Night Out

She couldn't believe her good luck. Her first night in a new city, and here she was, holding an invitation to a party so secret that she couldn't even tell anyone about it.

The man in front of her smiled and a part of her melted.

"You understand that this is a private affair, only for new tenants and those we deem worth our attention. You'll be attending as my-" he hesitated a little- "date. Don't engage in any of those troubling little behaviors, such as bringing along a friend. I am interested in you and you only. Come that way."

She caught herself before she giggled. He was so forward- she loved that in a man. (A tiny voice inside her cried out that no, she didn't, she'd been hurt before, why couldn't she say no to him?)

"What should I wear?" She meant it as an honest question, but it came as much as saying that nudity was an option. Her voice was betraying her, and something deep inside her screamed that she was betraying herself.

His smile broadened and the last of her resistance melted away. He could have her on the sidewalk if he wanted to.

"Wear a dress. But no panties, and I'll know if you lie."

She grinned and flicked her eyes down, bashful as a teenager. "Of course."

He stepped in close- too close. He smelled raggedly of cigarettes and a distant iron tang her mind wouldn't let her recognize-

"See you tonight," he whispered, his voice in her ear. He kissed her neck and drew in a deep breath of her fragile girlish scent, and was gone.

She collapsed down into her chair. Vancouver really was a fascinating city.

That night, she got ready. She'd be foolish not to carry mace, she thought, and condoms, and her knife. She grinned a little at her own impetuousness. Brave little girl in the big city, she thought, and slipped her bra into place.

Slipping into her black dress, her hair perfectly formed, red lipstick and dark eyeshadow. She caught her own eye in the mirror and smiled. Well, I'd sure fuck me, she thought to herself.

That same little voice tried to tell her to turn back, to not go, to at least put on the sheer black panties she had laid out on the bed. She left without them.

The address was in a good part of town, a black-glass highrise that loomed above the street like a smooth dark mountain. When she got to the door, a tall and somehow familiar man blocked her entry. "Excuse me," he said. "Invitation only."

Wordless she passed the man the thin paper sheet. He looked closely at it, and then, bizarrely, scanned it with an infrared penlight. A grin broke out on his face. "I see. Congratulations, it's a very big night up there tonight."

"What's the special occasion?"

He looked at her and his eyes sparked against hers like flint and steel. She wondered who was which.

"No special occasion. Let's just say they'll be happy to see you. Go on up."

Inside the lobby was empty. The walls were dark wood, the floor deep red carpeting with a black marble path leading straight through the middle to a single brazen elevator. She snorted to herself. Classy, she thought. Like this was some kind of european hotel.

Her high heels clicked eerily on the path. The high vaulted ceilings, wreathed in darkness, swallowed the sound of her steps.

She wasn't halfway across the lobby when the elevator pinged. A single green light clicked to life and the door opened. A man in a long dark coat stood inside, and that same almost-familiar look wrapped around him.

She felt a little concerned. A thin trill ran up her spine.

Nothing ventured, nothing gained, she thought.

She stepped inside. The man next to her shifted easily. She caught that same smell, cigarettes (cloves this time) and iron.

She pressed 7, and settled back for the ride. Her fellow passenger didn't say a word.

Her mind wrangled with an odd sense of discomfort. That smell-

He was looking at her.

She knew it, she didn't even have to look. He was looking at her from under his broad-brim hat, his eyes were ice blue just like the other man's, his teeth oddly keen-

She slowly turned her head. He was staring right at her. His full noble lips parted in a smile that promised horror. His eyes were blue. His teeth were oddly keen.

The door pinged and opened and the man she had met that morning strode in. He was already moving at full speed as it opened, and his long lean body crashed cleanly into the other man, shoulder-checking him up into dark metal of the elevator wall.

He snarled, a savage sound that terrified her and at the same time sent a curling electric shock down between her thighs.

The other man protested. "Please! I didn't know-"

"You've offended me. Go."

The second man skulked off onto floor two. She watched as the doors closed and he flashed her a smile. She could see that his canines were somehow wrong.

Her man stood next to her. He should be warm and at least breathing hard after an exertion like that, after running into an elevator and throwing a man against a wall, but a chill like a winter twilight flowed off him. In fact- she noted with shock- there was a little frost and ice in the cuffs of his jeans and around the soles of his boots. The frost was a little pink.

"I'm sorry about that." His voice cut through her observations. She snapped her eyes up to look at his face. His eyes were like cold fire, and the blood was pooled in his cheeks. He had just been somewhere very cold.

"Ivan is a friend, but not a good one, and he has... a very poor way with women."

"It's alright," she said, knowing she was fawning again, hating herself for it. "He didn't do anything wrong."

Her man laughed, a short bark of wry amusement. "Wrong. It's a funny concept."

She laughed along, wanting to share the moment, watching his face and eyes for any sign of- anything. His smile, she thought. His smile and his teeth...

He leaned into her and kissed her, gently, his lips a cool gentle pressure against hers. His tongue darted gently against hers, and she felt the cool of his body in his breath.

He leaned back and appraised her. Her cheeks flushed, her red-painted lips were curled into a smile, her face an open book of friendly interest and sexual attraction.

Perfect.

The elevator dinged, and he led her out into the abyss.

The whole seventh floor of this building had been hollowed out around the utility core, with a large block suite in each corner and large, floor-to-ceiling tinted glass windows. There were circles of low black furniture, obvious quality, and they were crowded with intense groups of men and women. There was a black light and soft red light over it, so she couldn't make out too many details, but it looked like it was quite a party.

The other major feature of the floor was a bar that circled the entire utility core, and several bartenders stood impeccably at attention, their hands folded behind their backs, racks of clean glasses on the shelves behind them.

The bar was pretty empty for a party. She shrugged inwardly. Maybe it was just early.

He caught her hand and led her forward. "Come on, let's find my friends. They all want to see you."

That was a little creepy, she thought, distracted. Well, somebody was drunk already- someone was clearly passed out on a nearby couch, and some lucky guy had two girls all over him, straddling his legs and leaning into him.

"Here," he said, pressing a drink into her hand. When she looked up, he grinned that odd flat grin. "Relax, I didn't put anything in it. Wouldn't want you to miss what's coming up."

She took a sip, and then two two things happened in unison. First, the voice that had been warning her earlier broke through with the force of an air-raid siren, and second, she recognized the smell. It was blood, fresh and hot, drying in air.

She gasped. He looked back, and saw that his spell was broken. His grin widened.

His canines were sideways.

She stared, shocked. That's what it was- some kind of crazy, subtle tooth deformity, something wrong with his mouth, almost unnoticeable except in the black light that flicked on and off behind them-

And it would just be odd, even endearing, except that other man had had the exact same canines.

Her mind, suddenly freed, raced back to the unconscious person and the dark stains on her clothes-

The man with two women, had he been caressing their backs or (she thought back to his jerking, spasmodic hands, so obvious now) struggling...

His grin was brilliant. "Figured something out, sweetheart?"

His grip had become iron strong. Suddenly he was against her, his cool blood-reeking body inside her space, his arms around her, his lips warm against hers, against her cheek, against her jaw, against her- here she began to struggle- throat-

She felt his back tighten and his head move suddenly. A spark of pain burst on her throat.

He moved away, and she felt a tiny trickle of blood trickling away from his kiss.

"You..." she whispered. Suddenly his eyes weren't cold at all anymore- they were furnace-bright and hungry, savage even.

His head darted in again. Another savage kiss, another opened wound. Two thin trickles of blood ran down her throat. Whatever else he was, he was more aroused than she had ever seen a man. His upper body was taught and trembling with readiness, his pants visibly strained in the front, his eyes- oh, his eyes-

He grabbed her again and kissed her, dragging her as he did towards a low circle of couches. "Come along," he whispered, breaking his kiss. "It's time to meet my friends."

Why couldn't she stop him? Why couldn't she stop herself? And why, despite the fear, the blood, and the knowing of what he was going to do to her, wouldn't her body stop its furious need? Her throat was slick with blood, but between her legs a more intimate wetness cried out for him.

She was trapped, and she knew it. The last part of her that resisted fell silent, like prey resigned to their predator's jaws, like a rabbit giving up to the snare.

He threw her down on the couch. Another man in a long dark coat and two women- a brunette and a redhead- were already there. The redhead had a little bag like a capri-sun in her hand. It took her a second to notice that it was full of medical blood.

The redhead sipped and smiled. Her teeth were bloody, and her canines were sideways.

Her host casually grabbed her hair and pulled her head back, exposing her bloodstained throat. "Friends, meet my new pet. She's dinner."

She could hear them shifting, feel two warm bodies at her sides- the man and the brunette. Each planted a soft kiss on her throat, right below the nicks her new owner had made, cleaning the blood off of her with patient, delicate tongues. She jumped a little as the brunette cupped one of her breasts to hold her still.

"Delicious," proclaimed the brunette. The man mumbled his agreement into the pale slit skin of her throat.

She tried to struggle free, but the first man grabbed her thighs and held her still. She could feel a rising panic in herself that was breaking away whatever spell he had over her- which only made it worse, because she knew it was too late now.

"Vampires," she cried, which seemed a little superfluous since two of them were already at her throat.

Something unexpected happened. Her owner reversed his grip on her legs, parting them easily with his unnatural strength, and knelt down between her thighs.

"You could call us vampires... if we stopped at taking your blood..." he grinned up at her, and then ran his hands up her thighs, pushing her little black dress up and up- she tried to struggle but the brunette tightened her hold on her breast, and the man grabbed hold of her other side, holding her still...

"Ahh," her owner said, facing her exposed cunt. "I see you obeyed orders."

"What a good girl," the brunette cooed in her ear, kissing her cheek-

She stared, caught up in the madness, as he kept eye contact lowering his head against her.

His tongue against her made her hips buck and a gasp of pleasure escaped her mouth.

The redhead leaned forward, drew a long sip from her IV bag. "Ooh... I love this part."

His skilled tongue working away between her thighs, her two dedicated predators kissing her neck, jaw, lips, ears- draining blood from her opened arteries- a third and different kind of predator bringing her to a pinnacle of pleasure with his skilled tongue-

Suddenly the brunette's mouth was against hers. She could taste her own blood in her mouth, a strange coppery tang.

The brunette's eyes were alight. "You could call us vampires..."

They used her all night.

She could remember it in flashes- her dress torn off, her breasts crushed against the black glass of the windows while her owner took her savagely from behind, forcing her to come over and over again-

Being bound, bent over the edge of a bed, the smooth wet pussy of the brunette spread with two delicate pale fingers, being locked between her iron thighs while she quickly tried to master the art of oral sex. The raw agony of the lash, while she could hear them laughing at her pain and humiliation, while she tried to scream around the gag in her mouth. Cruel metal biting into her nipples, her lower lips, her clit- they seemed to have an endless appetite for her. (And how literal- a simple bite on her inner thigh turned the redhead's generous cunnilingus into dinner and a show, and she could feel the blood trickling down her thighs now, so much brighter and more vital than monthly blood.) They owned her now, body and soul, pleasure and pain.

She hated herself for responding, hated herself for every moan, every gasp, every spasm of pleasure that made her mouth fall open with animal pleasure. She was being raped- being taken over and over again by a group of brutal, violent strangers, who saw her as nothing more than a plaything- and (she thought, numb with horror)- as a meal with benefits.

She was filthy, a weakling among immortals. They would take what they wanted and leave what was left- an empty husk. They were worse than vampires- they were drinking up her dignity, her self-respect, her self. This brutal pleasure they had indulged a thousand times before, and would a thousand times again.

As her lips closed around another stiff cock, as she tasted her own cunt there, the horror of the situation was lost. So she was meat. She'd always been meat, her whole life- they were just being honest, in the way they had taken her, fucked her, raped her, and were slowly, drop by drop, eating her.

Two delicate feminine fingers slipped slickly into her, and crooked in rapid rhythm against her g-spot. A narrow pointed tongue flicked the delicate bud of her clit.

There were worse ways to die.

Finally, she was tied kneeling, a lit candle balanced between her breasts spilling hot wax down her flanks and pale vulnerable belly every time she shook- which was often. She had lost a lot of blood- her predators weren't above taking the occasional nip while they used her- and utterly exhausted.

Her owner was gently tracing the red trails the wax had made with his cool fingers. "We've had a lot of fun with you, my pet, but it's over now."

She didn't answer, except from the tears that welled in her eyes.

"There's just one last step." He knelt behind her, putting one hand across her mouth, the other holding her ribs in place and cupping a breast. "This is death," he whispered in her ear. "The end. We pick our new companions carefully, and you haven't made the cut. You'll be found in the river, another victim of this brutal city, your rape and murder just another statistic."

He leaned close and ran his canine against her cheek. It was diamond-sharp, cutting a thin line under her eye that wept a few weak tears of blood.

"Goodnight, pet." His muscles tightened, and he moved.

She instinctively tried to scream through his hand, but all that came out was a muffled mew of protest as his teeth began to close into her throat.

This was it- all over now. A wet red flash, an agony that seemed to last forever and was bright as a star, and then the hellish feeling of your own body being emptied of what made it alive.

The burning candle dropped from its perch, burning her as it fell. She barely noticed. She jerked against him like a deer in a cougar's jaws, like a mouse in the talons of an eagle.

When she was empty he left her fall. She sank helplessly to the floor. The open wound in her throat didn't even drip.

***

She awoke in a freezer, suspended from the ceiling- not from a meathook, but from the proper kind used for human suspensions, sunk expertly into the flesh of her back and supporting her weight easily. She noticed the immense quantity of meat- chilled but not frozen- on a bench in front of her. Hunger that was like a second mouth opening in her stomach ripped through her, and with casual, inhuman strength, she lifted herself off the hooks and landed on the floor.

She ate for a long time- she couldn't stop herself- before she noticed the envelope. The cold meat was terribly unsatisfying, even though she knew was top sirloin and filet mignon, bloodily raw (just the way she liked it- now) but lacking that certain something- that certain-

aliveness.

She looked down. The pattern of her bite was odd- her canines were sideways.

The envelope was addressed "Pet."

She grinned. So it wasn't over.