Warlord Metal (28 page)

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Authors: D Jordan Redhawk

BOOK: Warlord Metal
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Eagerly relieved that her search appeared over, the woman nodded, a smile coming to her face. "Yes. It's in the parking lot." She, in turn, looked around their immediate vicinity. "Do we have to leave just yet?"

Time to play the game. Flinty eyes gazed on the woman at odds with the seductive grin playing across Jordan's face. "No. Not just yet." She pushed away from the bar. As the woman moved to join her, she pressed a hand against the white clad shoulder. "Stay."

The woman froze at the command, trembling.

The teenager stepped behind the woman, head tilted to one side as she regarded the long form. Very nice. Lucifer likes 'em tall. The palm slid from the shoulder, meandering down the back, across the swell of hip and further down the thigh and calf. Jordan, squatting beside the woman felt a familiar tingle at the sight of the shapely leg peeking from the opening of the cloth.

Startled, the woman jumped a bit as she felt the hand slide back up the inside of her leg, pausing to knead the firm thigh. Another jump when the teenager found her garters and snapped a strap before finishing its path and brushing the moist panties.

Jordan rose again, removing her hand from the damp cloth. Oh, yeah. She's a hot one. The smallest whisper was heard, Stop this! This isn't right! It was ignored. The ebony haired teenager rose and pressed her body against the woman's back, one arm wrapped around her waist, the other hand pulling dark brown hair aside. She had to tiptoe, but was able to breathe into the woman's ear. "What's your name, babe?"

The woman swallowed, her belly cramping with the familiar sensations of mingled dread and arousal. "Sylvia," she said hoarsely.

"Sylvia." The name rolled off Jordan's tongue. There was a pause, the beat of the music seeming to surround and invade the pair. "Lose the panties," the teenager ordered.

"B... but... I can't!" the woman gasped, grey eyes rolling to see behind her. The hand on her waist slid up and harshly tweaked her nipple and she gasped again.

"Let's not use that word. I want your underwear off," Jordan growled, knowing full well that the woman couldn't comply. Not without removing the stockings and garter belt first.

Sylvia swallowed, panic fluttering her heart. "The garter belt.... It's over my panties," she whispered, half afraid there would be reprisals at her refusal. And half hopeful.

Appearing to consider this, Jordan's hand gently caressed the breast it had just pinched. Time to up the stakes. "Get my jacket and come on," she said, dropping her hands from the woman's body and stepping away.

The woman retrieved the clothing and obediently followed.

The teenager led her prey into the bathroom, ignoring the couple making out in the corner by the door. She moved down the line of stalls, all without doors, and ushered the woman into the last one. Jordan took her jacket from nerveless fingers and draped it over the stall wall. Pushing the woman's back against the partition, she pressed against her and nibbled at her neck. "Grab the top of the wall," she murmured.

Sylvia did as she was told, stretching herself out and pushing her breasts forward into the teenager against her. There was a soft snick as the youth pulled away, and a stiletto was suddenly caressing her cheek.

"Don't move." The woman obeyed and Jordan idly traced a path across the smooth skin. A part of her mind wondered what kind of person could get a kick out of being the submissive. It was always a puzzle to her. I sure as hell don't like it. But that thought brought memories of Louis and his friends, flashes of pain and blood and screaming, and she shut them down. Not now!

The stiletto's long and torturous trail roamed over the woman's body. Her eyes were closed tight and she quaked, but her hands never left their position on the stall and she made no moves to pull away. Her breathing quickened as the tip scratched across the material of her shirt, circling her nipples and tickling her ribs.

Jordan concentrated on the task at hand. She had to admit that this was a turn on, this absolute control welded over another person. The effect it had on the woman before her was erotic and the teenager could feel her own heart rate speed up in response. But it's not for you, Horny Jordie. Back to the task at hand, she quietly asked, "You got friends here?"

"No," Sylvia gasped. The edge of the stiletto was moving down the thigh of her dress. The blade slid underneath the dress at about knee level and drew itself upwards. The woman shivered at the feel of her stockings catching on the tip before whisking away. And then it was past the material, pressing inexorably along her inner thigh, the woman's muscles shaking in tension.

Using her knee to widen the stance, Jordan slowly caressed the woman's panty clad center with the point of the sharp instrument. The resulting whispery moan brought a rush of arousal and she unconsciously licked her lips. Using her other hand, she guided the stiletto into the leg opening. "You did say no limits?" the teenager husked.

Sylvia swallowed, feeling warm steel against her nether parts, pressing gently against her erect clitoris. "No limits," she gasped in agreement, fighting the urge to rub herself against the sweet, dangerous pressure.

With a quick, precise movement, Jordan twisted the blade and tugged, severing the offensive material. The woman could feel cool air against her center, the severed cloth brushing against her pubic hair.

"Problem solved," the teenager murmured. Just as slowly, the stiletto retreated, spreading a humid warmth in its path. And then it was gone. "Open your eyes."

Peeling her lids back, Sylvia saw the stiletto glistening wetly before her.

"Clean it." Emerald bore into smoky grey. As the woman delicately began licking the blade, Jordan growled in appreciation. Take her now! a voice demanded. Another whined, No! Lucifer'll kill ya! She closed her eyes and wrestled with her desires. Louis' voice echoed in her head, Either bring home money or bring home a babe tonight, Horny Jordie.

Sylvia watched the play of lust cross the pretty face, watched the eyes close, wondered if this youth could give her what she so desperately needed. She finished her chore, enjoying the salty taste of her juices mingling with the metallic tang, enjoying the fear coursing through her veins.

At the stall entrance, there was a gasp followed by a giggled, "Sorry!"

The knife disappeared in split seconds and Jordan glared at the intruder. "Back off!" she snarled. "We're busy!"

The interloper rolled her eyes and grimaced. "Chill, sweetheart! I'm going!" She could be heard grumbling to a companion as she moved out of the doorway.

Jordan sighed deeply, her mood broken for the moment. Probably just as well. She pushed away from the woman's long form, dropping her knife back into her pocket. That was nice. Gonna have to try that again someday when I've got more time. She could hear the music outside of the bathroom, recognizing the opening strains of one of her favorite songs. "C'mon, Sylvia, let's go." The teenager scooped up her jacket and handed it to the woman, turning away.

Obediently, Sylvia followed.

The Type O Negative song was slow and seductive. I'm gonna meet them some day, she mused. No matter what Lucifer says! The mega bass voice of the lead singer could be heard through the beginning piano strains. Leading her prey out onto the dance floor, Jordan found a relatively quiet corner. She took her jacket back and tossed it to the ground, turning to face the woman with her arms crossed. "Dance for me."

Sylvia appeared surprised at the command. Her heart fluttered. With nervous anticipation, she glanced around the dance floor, watching other couples moving in time with the music, seeing the tables of spectators watching the floor, watching her. Jerkily, she began to move, her embarrassment at dancing alone causing her to lose the beat. And then there was sudden, sharp pain as Jordan stepped forward and twisted her arm behind her, turning her to face the tables.

"Look at them!" Jordan ordered.

The sharp pang in her shoulder warred with her increased excitement and she did as she was bade, grey eyes looking over the crowd. People in all manner of gothic dress and undress drank, laughed with each other, seriously conversed. Some were watching Sylvia and her tormentor with eyes of wariness, interest, avid curiosity and lust. She felt the teenager's breath in her ear.

"Ignore them. They aren't important. I am! Dance for me. Or this ends now." Jordan applied a smidge more pressure on the trapped arm to make her point, knowing that the submissive in her arms would do as she was told to continue the potential for pain. And then she released her prey and stepped back.

Sylvia turned back around, a slow pirouette. She licked her lips, a passion glowing from her eyes before she closed them. There was a moment of stillness as she prepared herself. And then she was moving, following the words of the song.

"In her place one hundred candles burning

As salty sweat drips from her breast.

Her hips move and I can feel what they're saying, swaying.

They say the beast inside of me's gonna get ya, get ya, yeah...."

Her mouth was cotton and Jordan licked her dry lips. Fuck, I wish I had money for Lucifer tonight! she mourned, watching the woman before her lose herself in the deep bass and metal guitar strains.

The slow beat was erotic. Sylvia moved to the sound, hips swaying as the song had said, her arms and hands moving in the air around her in alluring intent. Hands ran through her hair and she tossed her head back, revealing her collared throat as her hands moved further down to caress her breasts, holding them, pushing them upwards. An offering.

"Black lipstick stains her glass of red wine.

I am your servant, may I light your cigarette?

Those lips smooth, yeah, I can feel what you're saying, praying.

They say the beast inside of me is gonna get ya, get ya, yeah...."

Smoldering grey eyes opened and the woman eased forward, wondering if she could get away with touching her mistress. Sylvia circled to one side, draping an arm across the teenager's shoulder, dragging her hand across flesh and cloth and hair as she slipped behind the still form. The woman pressed herself up against the girl's back, sliding down, her hands moving on strong thighs.

Jordan forced herself to not react, though she was trembling inside at the rage of passion that welled up. And then the dark haired woman was continuing her circuit until she was standing in front of the teenager, arms draped over her shoulders.

"I beg to serve. Your wish is my law.

Now close those eyes and let me love you to death.

Shall I prove I mean what I'm saying, begging?

I say the beast inside of me is gonna get ya, get ya, yeah...."

Jordan's hands found the woman's hips. Sylvia undulated against her, head thrown back in invitation. The teenager's eyes raked hotly over the body offered to her, felt the pressure building in her loins as the woman ground against her thigh. With a feral snarl, she swiftly bent forward and took the smooth flesh above the collar bone into her teeth.

The woman gasped at the attack, startled. And then she pressed harder against the well muscled thigh between her legs, groaning out over the music, no thought to the eyes that were watching them, watching her. Her hands were buried in ebony tresses, painfully wrapped in the hair as her vampire, her mistress devoured her.

"Let me love you too.

Let me love you to death."

Things were beginning to get out of control. Not now! Not yet! Jordan pulled back as the song ended, forcing the woman's hips away from hers. The long hands in her hair tried to push her back into place, but the teenager wouldn't have it. There was a flash of anger in emerald eyes and she growled, "Back off, bitch!"

The tone and words splashed cold water onto Sylvia's desire, trepidation rushing to fill the void. Her arms dropped and she bowed her head in shame, hands fidgeting together before her, shaking from her thwarted desire.

Jordan resumed control, forcing her fiery need down. With a stern look on her face, she circled the woman on the dance floor. Another song started up. Dancers left and others arrived to take their places. And the women were left alone in their little corner. "Does your mother know you're a slut, Sylvia? That you come to a place like this and let people fuck you? Hurt you?" the teenager asked, brushing the woman's ear with her lips, simultaneously pinching her ample rear with sudden viciousness.

Sylvia's eyes were shut and she shuddered, blushing. There was another pinch, this one on her upper arm, and she forced herself not to jerk away from the flaming sensations. "No. No mother." The lips moved to her other ear, she could feel a tongue lick along the delicate organ and she sighed.

"What about Daddy? Does he know you like to be brutalized? In pain? Screaming?" Jordan reached inside the slit of the skirt and pinched the tender inner thigh of one leg, knowing she was leaving red marks on the skin.

The warm hand was still inside her skirt, moving in slow circles over the sensitized flesh. "No, I don't have a father," she murmured. That appeared to be the correct answer, because the fingers under her clothing reached up and caressed her opening, gathering moisture.

"You're so wet, Sylvia." Jordan caressed the hood of the woman's clitoris, feeling her lean back. I've gotta get us outta here. Lucifer's waiting.

Sylvia almost fell as the hand was removed and the body behind her stepped away. She teetered and regained her balance, opening her eyes once again. She blushed as she saw all the people that were avidly watching the drama on the dance floor, the warmth intensifying between her legs.

Jordan moved back around, licking her finger clean, trying to gain control of the voices whirling about her head, telling her what to do. She stepped away and picked up her jacket. "Let's go."

The woman swallowed in anticipation before following the teenager out of the bar.

Sylvia parked where she was told and shut down the engine. They were in a fairly well-to-do residential area of town. A place of BMW's in every garage and the requisite 'help' working in gardens and kitchens during the day. It was nearly midnight, however, and all was dark and quiet. Lights could be seen in a few windows, mostly on the upper levels and with drapes tightly drawn.

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