I was out one dark and dreary night, sent to a club called Blood Lust, working on my next project, Vampires. Though I did not personally believe in them, I was told to go do research and see what places like these consist of, what makes humans create an image of night stalkers and such. I was to determine whether Dracula was still among the living.
To fit in, I slipped into a black leather mini skirt, accenting my legs, followed by black knee-high boots, ones that any vampire slayer would wear. For a top, I slid into a red camisole, my full breasts ready to pop out at the first sight of man, and covered with a tight fitting black leather jacket ending at my waist. I finished the touched with a choker, black nail polish, and letting my hair down, just as a precaution for I did not want to tempt unforeseeable forces.
I was admitted through the doors immediately, red and black eyes following my body the second I entered the club. It was very dark, taking a minute for my eyes to adjust, as I slowly made my way to the bar. I took in the scene around me; both men and women tied to the walls as "vampires" drank deeply, leaving trails of blood on their food. Exotic women danced naked around poles, their fangs glinting in the light, men trying to catch them like bloodhounds scenting an easy lay. Some others were dancing seductively on the dance floor, dry fucking and eating, the smell of sex and blood floating through the air. The rest of the patrons were sitting at tables involved in orgies, the vamps eating sloppily as the dinner moaned in both pain and pleasure, no spot on their bodies untouched.
I sat nervously at the bar ordering a drink, of what I do not remember as I stared at a large statue placed along the far wall. It was of a man, a vampire from the looks of it, naked, and muscles strained within the stone, his strength over bearing though he was not real. I drank my shot in one big gulp, eyes trailing down the marbled body taking in every detail, from his commanding look to his arrogant features, last consuming the powerful penis raised like a sword, begging for attention, and promising pleasure like no other.
I dragged my gaze away, gulping down my second shot, trying to pull together courage that I normally have, flustered by the crowd who seemed to be pushing closer, crowding me as I sat there. One more drink, my hands trembling, as I stood not realizing what I was to do, I looked anxiously for the bartender, catching his eye. Pointing, I asked, "Who is that statue of?"
With out cracking a grin he replied, "The Master himself."
I frowned slightly at his admiration as he looked at the statue. Playing along I inquired, "Why is he the master? If he is so powerful, how is he trapped in stone?"
Giving me a dark look, the bartender said disdainfully, "He is waiting for his sacrifice, his human sacrifice, to set him free." Before I could venture on, he continued. "He is to be among us, his servants, when and only when the mistress of the light sets him free. She is said to be bold, adventurous, and exquisite, so pure of heart that he melts on the spot."
At that, I did roll my eyes the spell broken, for what was just said was ridiculous, something from an old romance novel. I let the bartender finish serving others as I waltzed to my prey fingers tracing the masculine jaw, high cheekbones that were most distinguished, and finally to his fangs. I failed to notice the hush in the room as I continued to study the stone canine, attempting to break one off. I only succeeded in cutting my index finger on the tip of his tooth.
Gasping, I jerked my hand away unconsciously lifting my cut to my own lips before my slim wrist was seized tightly by...a stone male hand. "What the hell!"
It is she! A deep penetrating voice growled throughout the room, the viewers stunned that their master was awake, speaking to them, the lowly who were there to serve. My chosen one has arrived! Prepare the alter!
