(excerpt from a Vampyre Novel)
In agreeing to help, the thanatophobic Baron had one demand: To have the Countess's new companion be part of his obsession with death, beauty, Victoriana, and all things equine. On this special theme night in his club 'The Lair', Jessica was his lead horse at a macabre, fetish, Victorian wake. She had spent a bizarre afternoon with the Baron being fitted for her costume. Revelling in selecting her funereal wardrobe, he chose a chokingly tight laced latex basque; a rigid rubber discipline neck collar; horse bridle; check reins, an anal plug pony tail, seamed nylons, and a long ostrich feather nodding plume; all in deathly black.
Apprehensive and light-headed, Jessica stood isolated from the party in a circular mirrored room below a transparent sphere. Dressed in the gothic livery of a Victorian funeral mare, her role was to enact the part of a frisky, thoroughbred Lippizaner, groomed and proffered for siring. Demona had explained the importance of acquiescing to the Baron's lurid demands, but now, standing alone, with music pumping loudly, she felt scared.
Her laboured breathing came in rapid, shallow bursts. The gamma hydroxybutyrate (GHB) was kicking in. Her head swam, colours intensified and a dozen tall, and slender women encased in burnished latex, and shimmering nylon's - a fetishist's wet dream - floated toward her from the mirrored walls. She swayed to the syncopated beat resonating deep inside her head, and swaying with her, the twelve voluptuous doppelgangers. She giggled. Her drug, induced imagination ran riot. They were simple reflections, but each was alive, smiling, and carousing with her - she would gladly have fucked any of them, but then her earpiece buzzed.
"Take the walk." A voice commanded. She stood on the first step, careful to set the toe of her calf boot down safely. The rigid collar stopped her looking down, so gingerly she felt her way up the stairs. With each step, she moaned and bit hard on the bridle in her mouth. The plug of the ponytail rubbed against the Chinese steel balls inside her sex, sending electrifying spasms across her pubis. Trembling she looked up. Designed by the Baron, the Perspex sphere had steps, bars, ropes, and ledges for every conceivable sexual act. Running along the inner top, a circular tube fed with scented oils sprayed a fine mist into the sphere's centre. Along the bottom, small holes drained away the oil. On other night's they drained blood.
"Come to me my lovely, I have a surprise for you!" Over the PA, and relayed into her earpiece came the low, unmistakable cackle of the Baron's voice cutting through the heavy beat of the music. As he spoke, a spotlight opened on Jessica.
Bathed in red light, she ascended. Her high, spiky heels raised her forward, curving her spine, toning, and lifting her derriere. Between her cheeks, swinging erotically each time she moved, arced a long rubber pony-tail.
With Jessica in sight, the audience roared excitedly, and 'Kiss the Chrome' by Revenge accompanied her ascent into the sphere. The pneumatic trap door hissed, and closed shut. Her head pounded, and her blood coursed hot through her veins - she was on fire. The Baron had administered the GHB with uncanny timing, ensuring the drugs full effect hit her on entering the sphere. She soughed softly, breathing a rich scented aroma that calmed her pounding head. Within seconds, the aromatic oil had sheathed and permeated every inch of her trussed body making her latex and hose glisten under the hot lights. Closing her eyes, and lost in the soft, cooling basting of scented balsam she swam among a myriad of vibrant colours flowing inside her head. The mizzling oil soothed her steaming breasts, but her rouged nipples flamed and throbbed. Barely cupping the syrupy 32D's in her small hands, she rolled each engorged teat between her fingers, trying forlornly to quell the raging heat, but the more she squeezed, the more they burned, and the more the audience cheered.
The door hissed. She looked around. Covered from sternum to pubis with translucent purple latex, straps and silver buckles stood the Ukrainian identical twins; Yeva and Yana - two febrile, predatory stallions with a cornered mare to mount. Wearing glass strap-ons, ostrich plumes, bridles, tails and reins, they looked the part. They licked their lips and grinned mischievously. More spotlights opened, flooding the sphere with hot, white light. Jessica took a deep breath, turned, and with her hands on hips glared at the ruttish twins. If she were to be mounted, it would be on her terms. She bared her teeth and growled.
"We have come for you." Yana's shrill voice rang inside her head, amplified through her earpiece. Holding the glass phallus she rolled her hips in a mock thrust, and pawed the ground with the toe of her thigh boot, cracking her riding crop against the glossy patent leather. Yeva joined in, swinging her dildo in one hand, and in mock masturbation, smeared KY jelly along its eight-inch length with the other.
