Spike slammed his locker shut, somehow more furious than exhausted. Fucking asshole!
He thrust his arms through the straps of his worn backpack and marched out of the dingy locker room. Cocksucker!
He stomped into an empty elevator, jerked his wrist at the security scanner and commanded through clenched teeth. “Level one.” The doors slid shut and the elevator began to ascend.
His X-Pod vibrated; a personal multimedia terminal including Virtual Video Phone, holographic-imager, and Metaverse node all in one. He unclipped it from the belt of his black one-piece jumper and twisted it open: A text message. The sender field is blank. Must be an error. The subject field states the message can only be retrieved in a private g-way train car. Why would he have to jack-in to view a text message? Maybe the blank sender field isn’t an error.
The elevator doors slid open. He twisted his X-Pod closed and clipped it to his belt, while pushing the inscrutable message to the back of his mind. Fantasizing about the gruesome demise of his supervisor took precedence at the moment. He’d love to use his blade-slinger on him, but he’d never get away with it. There are security cameras everywhere.
Spike strode from the elevator across the foyer toward the building’s exit. Shoved a piece of Amp-Max chewing-gum into his mouth. It’s infused with mild stimulants. Then pulled his filtration mask from his pocket and stuck it to his face, before stepping through the exit.
With a thought command directed through a transmitter plugged into his neural interface on the back of his head, just below the occipital protuberance, he activated his DC Razors; sneakers with electrogravitational propulsion-pads capable of reaching twenty-five miles-per-hour. He glided across the vacant loading zone into an awaiting mag-rail train car on the blue line. The car was barren except for a few fellow employees.
Sliding his backpack off, he collapsed into an open seat distant from the other occupants and slipped into the safely-straps. An alarm would sound if he didn’t buckle up. The seating was positioned like a plane rather than a subway train. Twelve rows of four bucket-seats on the left and right side of each car.
A moment later the subterranean magnetic-propulsion monorail fired. It can travel up to four-thousand miles-per-hour. Spike was pressed into his seat, briefly revealing his dark-green eyes from under his straight black hair, which usually veiled his face. His grisly reveries of murder continued on uninterrupted.
Spike works as a day laborer excavator for Halliburton, ten hours a day, six days a week, in a waste dump in the middle of nowhere. Due to lack of petroleum, the buried plastics need to be recycled. Corn oil can only do so much.
Today was one year continuous employment. Never once was he late. Never once did he not show up. Yet, while everyone else under his supervisor had been trained and promoted to using industrial-exoskeletons within six months, he was still doing the shittiest most grueling work.
The only plus to the backbreaking manual labor was the ripped physique he had acquired over the past year. Though he greatly appreciated the female attention his muscular figure granted him, it did little to alleviate his aggravation over his supervisor’s continuous and gratuitous discrimination.
After a few minutes of his homicidal brooding, the mag-rail came to a halt. Spike exited the train car and weaved his way through the crowded loading zone to the closest McDonald’s for dinner. He felt he deserved to treat himself for his one year employment anniversary. He devoured a chicken sandwich and a gulped down a Pepsi Jolt, overloaded with caffeine and other mild stimulants. And then cruised speedily to the Sleepwell Capsule Hotel.
He moved into the germ scrubber, a three-by-three-foot cube decontamination foyer, and the door sheathed closed behind him. He shut his eyes and held his breath as he was flash sprayed with a white sanitizing misty from all directions for two seconds. His skin tingled. He was then scanned for Tuberculosis, A.I.D.S., and various airborne cancer viruses. The entire cube flashed green once and the door before him sheathed opened. He glided out while peeling off his filtration mask and tucking it into his pocket.
Vending machines lined the outer walls within, selling everything from hot noodles and military rations to one-piece garments and nano-bot inhalers. The machines supplied the bulk of his sustenance intake.
He took an elevator down five levels. It stunk of piss and poorly cleaned up vomit that edged the wall. The hotel has been in need of a new janitor-bot for quite some time. I need to remember to keep my damn filtration mask on until after the elevator ride.
Spike hovered passed row after row of capsules stacked four high, until he reached the capsule that he had called home for over a year. He tossed in his backpack containing everything that he owned, then climbed in and laid on his back with a sigh of relieve. The capsule was eight-feet-long, three-feet-wide, and three-feet-tall. Just barely big enough for two people to hump. He knew this from repeated experience.
With a voice command, the door sealed and locked. It became as silent as a sensory deprivation chamber. The capsule self cleaned once a day while unoccupied, so it always smelled of lemon and antiseptic. A luminous strip ran the border of the ceiling, designed for minimal power usage lighting. Warm air flowed in passed the synthetic cyanobacteria filtration system.
His body was heavy with fatigue, though due to the Amp-Max chewing-gum he chomped throughout the day and the Pepsi Jolt he had just drank, his mind surged with vitality.
Kicking off his sneakers, he pulled open his black one-piece and shimmied out of it, then slipped a disposable splooge-catcher over his manhood. Since tomorrow is his day off, he’d love to do a few hits of Hype; a psychostimulant-entheogenic hybrid drug. But it makes him horny as hell, so he refuses to take Hype without finding a partner willing to share the journey. His plan is to visit The Stars My Destination, an exclusive adult nightclub. If he can’t find someone willing to visit his capsule, he’ll settle for the readily available cybersex. Thus the need for the splooge-catcher.
Pulling out his DC Razors’ transmitter, he retrieved his camouflage-green Cyber-Goggles from his backpack, slid them over his eyes and plugged the data-cable into his neural interface. With a mental command he jacked-in to the Metaverse, slipping into an oneiric state of consciousness, similar to the lucid dreaming state. His mind disassociated from his body.
Spike adhered to the urban-ninja fashion style, for it was reasonably admired by the ladies. He wore matching black and nuclear-green leather vest, fingerless elbow-length gloves, tight fitting pants, and bulky knee-high boots. The outfit showed off his mean biceps and firm ass. Each boot also housed a cleverly hidden vibroblade-dagger. They are illegal and very expensive, but no one voyages into a guerrilla-network unarmed.
Spike stepped into a private train car of the Google Metaverse Railway. It is a digital bullet-train used to move from one network to another, and is the only legal means of Metaverse travel. It also provides customizable chat lounges, vast video and music archives, classified and personal ads, and various other social networking tools. Silent advertisements for various goods played continually across the windows.
He sat upon the patterned plush seating and there was a poof of violet smoke. A chirping black bat appeared from the haze and flapped around Spike’s head. He held out his hand to accept its attention, and it morphed into the anonymous text message:
Come to The Burning Skyline
The message included the server address to the club and an access link to the guerrilla-network where it is hosted. The train car began moving without him giving any type of command. The message must have an embedded command file.
Only a hacker could send him a message anonymously. But why would a hacker want anything to do with me?
The train car came to a stop and the doors slid open without his command.
The entire inside of the train car flashed red three times, and a female digital voice sounded. “Warning! You are entering an un-trusted domain. Warning!”
Ignoring the forewarning, Spike stepped out into a desolate landscape, resonate of an alien metropolis long forgotten. Colossal spires of twisting metal, rusted and jagged, reached for the starry night, which was poisoned a toxic green. The streets were constructed of neither asphalt nor concrete, but corroded grating, fallen through here and there. The abysmal darkness below was disturbed by haphazard flashes of crimson and the distant echoes of dysfunctional machinery, grinding and clanking malignantly.
Spike ran a finger over the underside of his left glove and it split open giving access to the watch-sized computer embedded in his wrist. He pressed his thumb to the circle touch-screen and it fanned outward, tripling in size to display a larger image.
“Network map,” was his voiced command, pinging the primary network server, and a three-dimensional map displayed. “Locate The Burning Skyline.” A spire several blocks away pulsed with a red hue. He memorized the most direct route and thumbed the translucent holo-screen. It fanned closed and his glove sealed over it.
Spike wearily walked the course, ignoring a spazzed-out pusher offering the latest cyber-drug upgrades, and declining a techno-pagan cyber-cultist that wished to convert him, until he reached The Burning Skyline.
He waved his wrist-embedded computer over the metal doorway to pay the cover charge; once inside, drink and dance are freely unlimited. The door became temporarily transparent so he may step through into the club.
It consists of a sequence of rooftops connected via light-bridges. Each rooftop overlooks different scenery that corresponds to the music.
The first roof quaked with the breakbeats of drum and bass jungle pop. And looked out over a post-humanity NYC. Spider monkeys climbed huge vines that wrapped around the high-rises. A pride of lions stalked a family of zebra in the crumbling streets far below. Bald eagles ruled the afternoon skies above. The roof was packed tight with half-nude amazonians and a few dark-elfpunks, all dancing a wild tribal jig.
Spike weaved through the throng and crossed over onto the next rooftop. The music shifted seamlessly as he walked the light-bridge, transforming to a post-trip-hop acid jazz hybrid sound. And the post-apocalyptic afternoon became a Neo-Tokyo night. Flying cars, taxies, buses, and trains zoomed around the lit up skyscrapers, leaving streaks of ruby in their wake. Lightning dragons of sapphire and jade clashed in the heavens. The rooftop was crowded with urban-samurai, ninja, and geisha. A few space pirates and steampunks were thrown in the mix. This was his scene.
He moved to the bar and ordered a heavy voltage martini from a bartender wearing the garb of an emperor. As he sipped his drink he watched the breakdancers surrounded by people dancing the techno-robot.
Just as he began to feel the surge of his martini, like arcs of electricity jetting through his muscles, he was spellbound by a goth chick winding through the crowd.
Her shoulder-length hair is jet black with crimson tips, which along with her cherry eye-shadow, emphasize her glittering scarlet eyes. Eyes as piercing as they are dazzling. Her long bangs are pinned back with skull-shaped barrettes, which to him says she’s innocent while pretending she’s hardcore. Her slim neck is adorned with a lacy black and violet choker, and her slender arms with matching corset-style long arm-warmers. Her pointed fingernails look like they’re carved from amethyst. Both beautiful and fearsome. Her black strapless short-dress with plum stitching, and lavender thigh-high stockings, leave about three inches of her tan thighs exposed.
I’d give anything to run my hands up her legs, lifting her dress for a peek at her panties. I wonder what type she wears.
Black and violet sneakers rounded off her sexy attire with a touch of playfulness. She looks about sixteen-years-old, eighteen at most. How the hell did she get in the club?
Spike closed his eyes to mentally access his Cyber-Goggles’ memory, and loaded a hacker-utility bot that he purchased from a hacker alliance known as Section 9. He used it to scan the girl’s Explorer registration.
Her first name is Keaira. She is five-foot-one, ninety-five pounds, twenty-one-years-old. Her ethnicity is a mix of Spanish and Italian.
Either she’s a hacker or she paid one to alter her registration, because there’s no way in hell she’s twenty-one.
Spike opened his eyes and his heart skipped a beat. Keaira was gazing through the crowd directly into his eyes. Did she notice my scan?
She gave him a seductive look and licked her plump pink lips.
Half the men and most of the women on the rooftop were staring her down like a starving fox gawking a strung up chicken. Yet she gives me that look?
Spike leapt from his stool with the speed and poise of a pouncing puma and stalked through the crowd toward her. He retained eye contact as fiercely as if to blink would cause her to vanish from this earthly realm.
Midway through the crowd, she turned away from him and walked toward the next rooftop. Spike followed with a hastened pace, determined to catch her.
He toddled right through the middle of a breakdance mock-battle, narrowly ducking a swinging boot to the face. I’ve got to talk to her. She may have sent the bat.
As he paced the light-bridge the music transitioned into gothic trance. And the futuristic Asian landscape became a daunting vista. Instead of a skyscraper, he stood upon the watchtower of a dark citadel, overlooking a demonic cathedral with a jointing cemetery, where the corpses had risen from their graves. Stone gargoyle sentries circled the fortress.
There were men spanking other men’s bare asses with leather whips. Women fucking other women with glowing strap-on dildos. And a massive orgy of men and women, at the center of the tower, in a huge whirlpool bathtub of blood. Each and every one of them were cybergoths. They glared at him like he was an angel intruding upon Hades.
Keaira seemed to be swallowed up by the swirling sea of neon and black cybergoths. And there is no way I’m going in after her. If she’s truly interested in me, she’ll come find me.
He backed away as though witnessing a crime, hurried back to Neo-Tokyo and returned to the bar for another drink.
Just before he lost Keaira, as she turned her head, he had noticed a small tattoo on her neck behind her right ear. He accessed his embedded wrist computer and opened Google. With a finger he traced the simple glyph he’d seen on Keaira’s neck.
It is the symbol of Perth, the rune of mystery. It’s associated with the phoenix.
After a wait of about an hour, he decided she was not going to return. She was probably just playing a prank, luring normal’s over to the gothic freak show. Guess I’ll be hitting The Stars My Destination after all.
Spike exited the club the same way he entered and began walking his way back to the g-way.
He stopped suddenly when he thought he heard someone pacing his footsteps. Maybe it was just an echo, though he didn’t remember hearing it on his way to the club.
After a vigilant moment of listening and gazing about, he tread forward again. This time no echo followed him. Fear slowly unfurled deep inside him.
About half way to the g-way, he swore he heard a muffled cry. The message was a trap! He broke into a full on run.
Three blocks later he came to a brutal stop as a figure appeared from around a corner. It was Keaira.
Spike huffed, “Who are you?”
She cocked an eloquent eyebrow. “You already scanned my registration.”
“Are you the one who sent me the anonymous invite?”
She looked bemused. “An invite?”
He gave her a suspicious look in reply. “Are you a hacker?”
Keaira stepped close to him. She smelled of crisp lavender twisted with sultry jasmine and vanilla musk. Her aroma had an arousing effect at once.
Wrapping one hand around the back of his neck, she used the other to cup and fondle his crotch. She took a sharp intake of breath and her eyes flared, apparently excited by the bulk of his package. She bit her bottom lip as she gave his groin a tender squeeze of admiration. Then licked the inside of his lips as though sampling an appetizer.
Keaira whispered, “Accompany me to my private server. It’s only a short distance from here.”
He was so thoroughly entranced by her, it was as if she had cast an enchantment upon him.
When he faltered to answer her immediately, she seized his hand and led him away without another word.
I guess I will get a look at her panties after all.
After walking a long zigzagging path through the bleak and equally strange city, they arrived at a mostly collapsed spire. Keaira scanned the area before directing him into the rubble.
When Spike opened his mouth to question the safety of this venture, Keaira pressed a quieting finger to his lips. She had done the same each time he attempted to speak during their winding stroll.
Keaira pushed aside a large chunk of metal, which looked too heavy for anyone to move, let alone someone weighting only ninety-five pounds. In doing so, she uncovered a hole in the grated flooring that looked no different than any other place the corroded grating had fallen into the abyss.
With a hand gesture Keaira directed him into the void.
Having absolutely no intention of leaping blindly into a dark bottomless chasm, Spike replied in a whisper. “Gothic ladies first.”
He found it strange that the response that flickered across her beautiful face was of false aversion masking an appreciation of his distrust, as though it had been a test of his intelligence or gullibility.
She crossed her arms over her chest and hopped into the void just as a burst of crimson lit up the darkness below. He didn’t see her plummet into the abyss. She simply vanished. It must be a veiled gateway.
His intuition screamed for him to run back to the g-way and never return to this network. But as it was his habit to ignore his instincts when they pleaded for reason over possible gratification, he jumped into the void without a moment of consideration.
He opened his eyes as he landed in a claustrophobic stone passageway lit by torch. Blood ran continuously up the walls into a crevice where the walls met the ceiling.
“Creepy place you got here. Quite spacious too. Is the rent cheap?”
“Follow me.” Keaira led him forward and the torches extinguished behind them.
Spike had the feeling she was momentarily deactivating security measures as they walked along the passage. His only question was it to keep someone out or to keep him in.
When they reached a circular chamber with five new paths to choose from, Spike realized they were traversing the complex barrier-maze of a counter-intrusion matrix. What is this girl hiding?
After passing through four more division chambers they finally reached the end of the maze. The passageway led up to a large bedroom of sorts, open to the night sky.
The stone passage sealed behind them leaving no trace of an exit.
Decaying stone walls, covered in blood-red ivy, stood eight-foot-tall. A murder of raven sat perched atop. Each of their heads turned to stare down at them with one beady eye. They were a menacing sight.
Spike realized upon closer inspection that human skulls were embedded in the walls. And even more ominous, an ethereal vapor bled from the eye sockets.
Beyond the crumbling walls laid a haunting forest entrenched in a bubbling bog. All the trees were dead. Their trunks twisted as though wrenched of life by the burping bayou. Every branch was adorned with viscous webs. A forewarning of the crawling creatures that lay hidden within the barren husks, awaiting prey. The luminosity of the full moon looming on the horizon mingled with the marsh gases to craft the ghostly aura of wandering spirits.
Spike could hear the crocking of toads, the chirping of bats, the howling of wolves, and distance gurgling groans. If he had to guess, he’d say it was the muttering of swamp trolls in debate.
The cool breeze did not stink of quagmire, it smelled instead of sweet night flowers.
A black marble fountain, spewing red wine, was located at the center of the room. The merlot splashed and sloshed over the brim of the great fountain, concealing the floor with a rippling burgundy mirror.
Keaira slipped off her sneakers and tread forward. Stepping stones covered in a red moss rose up to meet her every footstep. They sunk away the moment her feet left them behind. Spike took a tentative step and a mossy stone emerged just before his boot touched the red wine.
Black silk sheets clothed a large bed against the opposite wall from where they entered. Long chains hung around the border of the bed, suspended in midair. Thirteen little purple pixies, clothed in white dresses so tattered they might as well be nude, fluttered out from under the sheets and chased each other about, pinching and groping and kissing playfully.
Spike was drawn to the bed, rapt by their erotic aerial dance.
“Be careful, they bite.” Said Keaira from over his shoulder.
He spun around and she gave him a ruby encrusted goblet, apparently filled with merlot from the fountain.
He took a long sip. It was sweet with just the right amount of tart. He complemented her. “You’ve got great color and beautifully rosy cheeks for a goth chick.”
“Well I don’t worship the devil or desire death. I just find the darkness comfortable.”
“Oh yeah sure,” replied Spike glancing around with wide eyes, “your private space here does wonders for comfortability.”
“Trust me,” said Keaira, “this is cute and cuddly. I’ve spent nights with hardcore goth chicks in places that would leave Pinhead’s cenobite minions unnerved.”
Spike grinned. “I’m sorry. I didn’t hear anything after spent nights with hardcore goth chicks.”
“Oh, does that threaten you?”
“More like excite.”
Keaira rubbed her lips provocatively with a finger. “I hope to do a lot more than excite you.”
Spike closed his eyes for just an instant, mentally accessing his Cyber-Goggles’ memory. A shot of passion endurance mixed invisibly into his wine. He gulped down the full contains of his goblet at once, and was endowed with a boost of sexual stamina. He wanted to relish this young vixen for as long as possible.
Keaira finished her wine while staring over the rim at him. Then tossed the goblet over her shoulder and it vanished. “Now that I’ve drawn you into my lair, I have a confession to pronounce.”
Spike gave her a blunt glare. “You better not be a dude using an avatar.”
“No, this is all me. Well,” she drummed her pointed amethystine fingernails in the air, “except for these.”
“I can’t blame you for those. You’d have to be defective not to arm yourself in such a peaceful neighborhood.”
“This is why you have hidden vibroblade-daggers in your boots.”
“How did you…never mind. What is this confession?”
Keaira gave him a most wicked smile. “I am vampire. And you are my prey. But I am not without a soul. If you can make me climax three times before you do, I will turn you. If you cannot, I will drain you completely.”
Spike laughed. “Okay, I like to role-play too. But I’ve always played the dominating character.”
Keaira hissed, “Not this time.” And gothic metal, aggressive and dark, boomed from the heavens.
Before Spike knew what was happening, he’d dropped his empty goblet as Keaira attacked him.
She sprung at him with a startling momentum, strangling his waist with her legs and throttling his throat with her little hands. She kissed him in a frenzy, sucking his tongue as though she wished to absorb his soul. Her mouth tasted not of merlot, but of chocolate and raspberries.
Spike was overcome by her fanatical passionate might, unable to resist her, unable to process a single thought.
Keaira released her chocking hands from his throat and gripped his hair. She pulled his head back, exposing his neck. She kissed and sucked and licked and bit his neck.
She yanked off each of his gloves as she tongued his ear. Then clutched the collar of his vest with both hands and leapt off of him, tearing his vest in half, and let it disappear into the rippling merlot.
Keaira grabbed the waist of his pants with one hand, holding him steady where he stood, then tugged off one of his boots, switched hands and tugged off the other.
She unzipped his pants. Slipped both hands into the crotch. Grasped the leather. And growled as she tore his pants in two, leaving him nude.
Her strength is incredible. How is this possible?
Keaira gripped his balls with one hand and the base of his half-swollen member with the other. She looked up at him like a fiend about to feed for the first time in a millennium.
Spike was as full of apprehension as he was of anticipation. “Not too rough now.”
Seemingly without command, the booming gothic metal lowered in volume and transitioned into gothic rock, foreboding and mournful.
“I would never do anything to harm this big handsome cock.” And she gave it a deliberate hardy stroke. Then looked up at him threateningly. “Though I can’t say the same for you if you fail my trial of three.”
Due to her sheer intensity, Spike actually gulped an upsurge of anxiety.
Before he could gather a reply, the tip of Keaira’s moist tongue swirled and twittered over the head of his prick. He let out a groan of appreciative appraisal, forgetting his trepidation immediately. Keaira kissed the tip of his thickening manhood delicately, and massaged his scrotum with care. She ran her tongue up and down the underside of his shaft until he stood fully erect.
Keaira stared up at him with her glittering scarlet eyes, intense with fervent hunger. She enclosed one small hand around his stiff cock and began to milk it up and down slow and firm. She puckered her plump lips and slapped his cock against them. Then pressed her lips tight around his head and took him into her mouth, warm, wet, and wonderful, until his cock struck the back of her throat. Her eyes rolled back in bliss, her cherry painted eyelids fluttering in jubilation, as she sucked him up and down, up and down, with more and more vigor.
Closing his eyes, Spike released a long continuous moan. “Oh yeah baby.”
Keaira rubbed his throbbing cock over her lips and cheeks as though snuggling a warm teddy bear. She cooed, “Your cock tastes so fucking good.”
He took her face in his hands and pulled her up to meet his lips. He kissed her as though his life depended on it. As though he were drowning and her mouth were the only source of air he would ever breathe again. He then laced his fingers into her silken hair and pushed her down onto her knees.
She took his cock in two hands and jerked, while licking and sucking his balls. “Mmm, these taste good too.”
Spike replied, “You’re fucking nova.”
She stroked his shaft and massaged his balls in precise rhythm, as with her supple mouth she made adoring love to his cock. Spike cupped the back of her head with both hands. Her hair fell over her face as she rigorously bobbed up and down. Drool ran over his nuts. Spike and Keaira both moaned harmoniously in utter delight.
The entirety of all being withered and died as he vanished into the abysmal paradise of her oral pleasure. Alabaster angels wreathed in golden aura’s materialized in his mind’s eye as though budding from Keaira’s soul. They were naked and beautiful with black wings of liquid radiance and heavy bosoms that heaved as they encircled him and reached out as if to pull him through the veil of death. Their arms and wings embraced him, completely enclosing him. He was an embryo in an angelic egg. All was forgotten in joy and wonder and darkness.
After an immeasurable amount of time, he was thrust from this glorious heaven as Keaira stood up and slammed him onto the bed with a forceful palm to his chest.
She climbed up on the edge of the bed and looked down at him with a twisted smile.
Her black dress evaporated in a flash of emerald flames, revealing her tight petite body. Her muscles are perfectly defined. Her abs ribbed. Her breasts are small but spry with pink little nipples, already solid with arousal. Her panties are cotton, black with purple edging.
She twisted around and arched her back, pointing her rump at him. An extremely detailed alchemic circle is tattoo on the small of her back.
With thumb and forefinger, she pinched the band of her panties on each curvy hip, and slowly pealed them down just below her cheeks, exposing her firm bubble-butt. Her behind is the epitome of perfection. The embodiment of excellence. She has an ass that must rival the uppermost Goddess. She gripped her round cheeks and squeezed, giving him a peek of her pink star. His pupils dilated at the sight.
She turned around, holding her hands over her little mound. She blew him a kiss and opened her hands like an emerging butterfly. Above her exquisite tiny slit is a small patch of fur. A deep shade of violet and shaped into a five-pointed star.
Keaira slipped her panties off gracefully, leaving her naked but for her lacy black and violet choker, matching corset-style long arm-warmers, and lavender thigh-high stockings.
With one slender hand she parted her lips, exposing the pink of her vaginal fissure. With the other hand she tucked her panties into the depths of her vagina. She closed her eyes and bit her bottom lip as she rubbed her sensitive button with rhythmic twirls of a finger.
The pixies swooped in all about her and lifted their tattered dresses to expose their teeny purple pussies. Two of them bestrode Keaira’s protruding upper lip. Two others straddled Keaira’s erect nipples. Most of the remaining gripped Keaira’s vaginal lips. All of them humped madly.
Spike moved to sit up, wishing to join in their fun. Keaira shoved him back down with an unsympathetic foot upon his chest. She had not even opened her eyes, though the music had sped up for just a moment.
After a few minutes of self pleasure, Keaira’s eyes opened and she gradually, enjoying the sensation, pulled her panties from her pussy. They were soaked with her juices. She dropped on top of him and the pixies fluttered back into the air. She clutched his throat tight, and with a devilish smile, she shoved her sodden panties into his mouth.
They tasted like the nectar of honeysuckles. They caused him an extraordinary desire to drink of her sacred chalice directly.
Keaira released him and stood up, turned around, bent over, and clasped hold of two of the dangling chains. With the skill of an Olympic gymnast, she lifted her legs above her and wrapped them around the chains, so she hung upside down facing him. Her altar lay spread before him, at the perfect height for him to stand on the bed and devour her.
He pulled Keaira’s appetizing panties from his mouth, leaving them beside the pillow, leapt up and strolled to the end of the bed with the confidence of a squire about to be knighted. He gripped Keaira’s firm velvety cheeks as she grabbed his muscular buttocks with both her hands. She took his rigid manhood into her eager mouth just as he pressed his lips to her feminine flower and began to lap her delicious secretions.
Spike ran his pointer finger up the crack of her ass, and forced it two knuckles deep into her tight pink star. Her ass clenched involuntarily as he did so. And a thrilled pixie landed upon his squirming finger, riding it like a bucking bronco. He then crammed two fingers of his other hand into her insanely taut pussy and fondled her inner erogenous zone.
Keaira kneaded his ass she suckled his cock with her fleshy lips and unyielding tongue, working him deeper and deeper into her soft throat, until her lips were kissing the very base of his shaft.
Spike did not thrust as he desired so badly, for fear of asphyxiating her with his thick manhood.
Keaira must have sensed his self resistance. She pulled away and shouted up at him. “Don’t treat me like a fucking virgin! Fuck my mouth like you fucking mean it! I want you to choke me with your massive cock!”
Spike was not about to argue with her. And he was surprisingly aroused by her vulgar demanding. So when she had succeeded in working the entirety of his hulking cock into her throat again, he began to thrust. He was slow and cautious at first. But when she showed no sign of displeasure, he plunged deep into her supple throat with more and more force.
She began to gag and cough as he fucked her throat raw, but she did not attempt to pull away. She seemed to love it. To reveled in it. Her flower flowed with sweet nectar that he happily lapped up.
He continued to lick and lash her clit, finger her taut slit, wiggle his pointer in her tight pink star, all the while thrusting hard into her throat, slapping her face with his scrotum, until finally her every muscle contracted and she shivered in climax.
All the pixies squeaked and fell upon the bed as though they shared her satisfaction.
Had it not been for that shot of passion endurance, he didn’t think he’d been able to resist exploding into her gagging throat. He may have to sneak another shot if he’s going to make it passed two more orgasms.
Still hanging upside-down, Keaira snapped her fingers four times in quick succession, pointing at a suspended chain with each snap. The four long chains dropped onto the bed into a coil, two on either side of him. Each of them unfurled and slithered over the sheets. In unison they sprung, wrapping around his wrists and ankles. He fell onto his back and the chains reached under the bed and clasped the bed posts: He was pinned to the bed spread-eagle.
Keaira dropped forward onto the bed and twisted around to face him. She sauntered toward him with a sexy gait and purred, “I’m going to fill my cunt with your immense cock. But first I’m going to drink from you.”
Spike gulped. “Well I guess a vampire has got to do what a vampire has got to do. But do you think I could have another goblet of wine first?”
“What type of host would you think I am if I denied my guest a drink?” She stepped forward to stand over his chest. “Of course in your present situation a goblet will be of no use to you.” She held her palm aloft and winked. A goblet of merlot materialized between her spread fingers. “Now open up my pet.”
He opened his mouth and closed his eyes, spiking the wine with two shots of passion endurance. He wanted to be damn sure he passed her trial of three. There was no telling how long she would keep him imprisoned here if he didn’t satisfy her sexual demands. He should have known better than to follow a goth chick home.
Spike opened his eyes as Keaira placed her stocking shod toes upon his bottom lip. She slowly poured the goblet over her knee, letting the wine filter through her lavender thigh-high down her leg and into his mouth. He gulped hard again and again to swallow as much as possible. In spite of his effort, plenty ran down his chin.
Flinging the goblet aside, Keaira dropped onto his chest and kissed the merlot from around his lips with obsession, then licked his chin clean before following the wine down his neck. She snarled like a voracious wolf as she sucked his throat with fierce exertion, as though she scarcely restrained herself from tearing him apart.
Keaira jammed two fingers in his mouth and pinned his tongue. With her other hand she flailed a gleaming fingernail before his eyes, and then gashed his chest with it.
Spike heaved his shoulders instinctively and shouted a defunct bawl of pain.
Keaira licked and sucked his bleeding chest in fervent elation, moaning and growling and grinding her crotch against his thigh. She took her role-playing more seriously than he had ever.
Blood dripping from her lips and smeared across her cheeks, she clutched his throat and squeezed as though she meant to end him. He gagged and she kissed him in a rage of bloodlust. Only when he began to convulse and his eyes rolled back, did she finally release him.
Wide eyed, he gasped for air. And Keaira burst into a fit of haughty laughter. This bitch is fucking crazy!
When he had finally caught his breath she ceased her manic outburst. She pecked his lips with a kiss. “You’re so cute when you’re terrified.”
Spike replied with a sneer. “I’m glad you’re having so much fun.”
Smiling at his subdued anger, she sat up and licked the remaining blood from her lips. “Delicious.” Then wiped her face clean with her arm-warmers.
She glanced down at his half-swollen member and looked disappointedly at him.
He asked with a defiant tone, “What’re you gonna do about it?”
She held a palm to her heart and spoke with an air of arrogant surprise. “Me? What are you suggesting?”
“Oh, than you’re going to remove these chains?”
“No need.” She whistled and the prancing pixies swarmed over his cock and balls. They licked and humped in delirious ecstasy. It was a curious and pleasant sensation. He rose to full salute almost immediately.
With another whistle, Keaira banished them and they retreated to frolicking through the air all around the bed.
Keaira rose onto her knees, shimmied forward, and hovered over his erection. She took his dick and rubbed it gently back and forth between her feminine folds, teasing him. “Tell your mistress what you desire.”
His blunt response spewed forth without thinking. “I want you to sit on my dick.”
“Truly? I don’t believe you.” She squeezed his prick with an expression of warning. “Beg me.” It was a command.
“Please. Please sit your sweet perfect pussy on my cock. I want you so fucking bad. If it weren’t for these chains, I would take it by force without mercy.”
Keaira smiled with wicked satisfaction, and then eased herself down, her taut slit slowly engulfing his cock.
Spike closed his eyes and opened his mouth wide with a long moan. Her sheath was virgin tight.
Keaira constricted her vaginal fissure and screamed. “Oh fuck! Your cock feels so good! It feels so fucking good deep inside me!” And she slapped him hard across the face.
Spike’s eyes shot open. “What was that for?”
“If you don’t want to look me in the eyes while I fuck your cock, then you can stare at my backside.” Without waiting for a reply, she spun around in one fluid movement, and began to ride his dick in the reverse cowgirl position.
She wailed in pleasure as she worked her beautiful ass up and down, her luscious pussy traversing the full length of his rigid manhood, again and again. Gradually, she sped up her tempo, bouncing her perfect bubble-butt up and down, her firm cheeks slapping loudly.
Spike was mesmerized by her rebounding rump. He strained against his bounds. He wanted to squeeze and spank her ass so dire. He felt he may loss his mind to a primal insanity of covetousness. That he might burst into furious bellows at any moment.
Keaira looked back over her shoulder as she continued to spring her bottom up and down. “I was trying to punish you for your disrespect.” Her eyes rolled back as though reaching another climax. “Oh fuck, your dick is so huge.” She slowed her bouncing and opened her eyes. “But I think you like my backside more than my eyes.”
“You have no idea how right you are.” He tugged against the chains and shouted. “Free me now!”
“No.” Keaira twisted into a side-saddle cowgirl. “I’m not done with my torturous play just yet.” She moaned and closed her eyes as she rode his prick at a cautious rate. She was clearly holding back, prolonging his torment and cultivating a hunger within him that grew more ravenous with each stroke of his dick.
Attempting feebly to distance himself from his swelling madness, Spike took notice of the dark music, and wondered if Keaira bounced to the pace of the melody, or if the music harmonized to her rhythm.
Keaira twisted again, now facing him while leaning back on one hand. She used her free hand to spread her vaginal lips and massage her clit. He could not look away as she rode his cock, her legs flapping open and close like the wings of a butterfly in flight.
Pausing for a moment, she placed both hands behind her for support. Then crossed one leg over the other, before continuing to ride him, her succulent pussy tighter than ever.
Feeling he could handle no more, Spike relinquished to pleading. “Please my mistress, free my hands so I may pleasure you. I beg you. Please.”
“Since you beseeched me so nicely. I’ll give you one.” Keaira spread her legs into fluttering butterfly wings again. Then snapped a pointing finger at his right wrist. The chain released and bounded back into its previous midair suspended placement.
Immediately Spike thumbed her sensitive button with a steady and rigorous speed. His touch was too much for her. Keaira wailed and quaked in orgasm after only a few seconds.
And again, all the pixies squeaked and fell upon the bed, sharing in her pleasure.
After a few moments of heavy breathing, Keaira climbed off him. She snapped a pointing finger at the three remaining chains and they released him. Finally he was completely free.
Keaira pointed to the stone wall with a stern expression. “Put your back to the wall and remain still. Or I will bind you again.”
“Yes my mistress.” He obeyed, realizing he was not truly free yet.
She came to him and dropped to her knees. She took his cock into her mouth and suckled him until he was rock solid again. It only took a moment.
Keaira stood, kissed his lips softly, and then turned her back to him. She leaned forward, gripping her knees and arching her lower back. She pressed her ass to his groin and wiggled her cheeks, rubbing his dick between them.
Forgetting her command to remain still, Spike grabbed her hips. He pushed her forward, then jerked her backward with an accompanying thrust, driving his cock deep into her taut pussy.
Keaira turned around at once and smacked his dick before slapping him across the face. “You will obey!”
Stunned, Spike replied. “Yes mistress.”
She turned around and bent over. Reaching between her legs, she gripped his cock and backed up against him, shoving his dick into her slit with a long moan. She stood erect and reached over her shoulder with one hand, taking hold of the back of his head. She worked her hips, sliding his cock in and out, in and out, with a sluggish pace.
Spike balled his fists, resisting the urge to seize hold of her and fuck her with all of his might. His lustful lunacy intensified further.
Keaira continued her slow humping, moaning softly as she went. And again when Spike felt he could endure no more, he begged. “Please my beautiful mistress. Please give me free reign to pleasure you as you so rightly deserve. Please.”
She turned back to him and licked his cheek. “You may not thrust, my pet. But you may do with your hands whatever you wish.”
Free use of his hands was as good as permission to thrust.
He filled his palms with her breasts and gave them a squeeze. Then clutching her breasts tight, he yanked her backward, smacking her ass against his thighs, again and again. His rigid manhood plunged in and out of her tight pussy, over and over again.
Keaira craned her neck around, pulled his head close with one hand, and kissed his lips with astonishing zeal. She kissed him as though he were an oasis in hell. Finally she released his tongue from her sucking mouth and gazed into his eyes prayerfully.
He knew the look was the blessing he had been waiting for. So Spike slid his hands from her breasts to her hips, and thrust into her harder and harder and harder. Yet he had not even begun to tap the tremendous sexual tension that had been mounting within him.
Keaira cried. “Yes! Yes! Yes!” And she trembled in climax.
And once more, all the pixies squeaked and fell upon the bed.
Without waiting for Keaira to catch her breath, Spike ran the fingers of his right hand into her hair. “That’s three. Now I get mine.”
He clutched her hair in an unyielding fist, threatening to tear her scalp. She let out a yelp as he yanked her upright. With his left hand he seized her waist, as with his right he drew her head back as far as possible. He walked her to the bed and bowed her over hard, smacking her face into the sheets. Then released her hair and gripped her wrists tight.
Keaira looked back over her shoulder wearing a grin wild with angry passion. “It’s about time you stopped treating me like a fucking little girl.”
He pulled her arms behind her back so she could not escape him, nor call upon the chains to bind him again. “Daddy is going to give his bad girl a vicious spanking she won’t soon forget.” He pressed her legs together using his knees.
Keaira clenched her ass, realizing what he was preparing to do. She screamed, “Don’t you fucking dare!” But her heated expression could not hide the excitement in her scarlet eyes. She had obviously tormented him for so long, knowing he would ravish her once freed.
“Don’t worry. It’ll only ache until I’m finished.” With one hand he restrained her wrists. With the other hand he took his rigid member, sopping with feminine juices, and buried it between her ass cheeks. It was tighter than anything he had ever imagined or dreamed possible. It felt so unbelievably fantastic it almost hurt.
Keaira shrieked in a paradox of pain and pleasure. “Fuck!”
The purple pixies fluttering about, zipped through the air in a race to hide within the folds of the silk sheets. And the murder of menacing raven cawed loudly and ruffled their feathers in agitation.
Spike slowly drew back until only the head of his cock remained inside her. She looked back at him imploringly, her eyes already wet with tears, and pleaded. “Please stop!”
He drove into her with a solid smack. She screamed and threw her head back.
He pulled back and hit her again, and again, continuing at a steady pace. Keaira shrieked with each thrust. “No!”
Recognizing that he wasn’t going to stop, she fought against him, twisting and wiggling and attempting to tug her arms free of his severe grip.
Her struggling only served to thrill him more as he thrust deliberate and deep. All the while keeping her thighs pinned together with his knees, for maximum tautness. She was so extremely tight his whole body shuddered with each hammering stab of his throbbing manhood.
When Keaira’s resistance slackened and her shrieks lulled to crying moans, Spike steadily sped up the tempo of his drumming. Both Keaira’s screams and the gothic metal amplified in conjunction.
Keaira’s revived screams became muffled as she bit down on a mouthful of silk sheets. Her screams soon turned to agonizing groans as she ground the sheets between her teeth.
Still, Spike felt he couldn’t thrust as deep and as hard as he desired. Not with her ass clenched and his knees working to pin her legs. He wanted full unrestricted access. He knew, like a wild stallion, he had broken her. He only needed to pull the reins tighter.
Spike pulled out his solid prick and Keaira breathed a groaning sigh of relieve. She spit out the sheets, and with heaving breaths, she questioned. “I didn’t feel you cum?”
“That’s because I didn’t cum, not yet.” He climbed onto the bed, gripped her by the waist and pulled her forward easily due to her light weight. He sat on her backside as he gathered pillows. Then gripped her hair tight with his left fist and enclosed her throat with his right hand threateningly. “You do what Daddy tells you now. Or I’ll give you a real reason to cry.”
Tears glistening upon her cheeks, she spoke in a childish whimper. “Yes Daddy. I’ll do whatever you wish.”
Her cherubic response, both her address of him as Daddy and her submissive tone, meant she had succumbed fully to his dominance. He had no doubt this was what she had truly desired from the inception of their erotic encounter, if not knowingly, then subconsciously.
“That’s a good girl.” He released her tussled hair and her throat, rose up onto his knees, and stuffed the pillows under her so that her lower back was arched with her soap-bubble bottom propped up in the air. “Now cross your legs, grab your ass with both hands, and spread your cheeks for me.”
Keaira obeyed him without protest. Reaching back and gripping her cheeks, she stretched her ass wide as though presenting her swollen rosebud as a majestic gift to a royal knight.
Spike slid down, gripped her firm thighs, and kissed each of her reddened cheeks, sucking and licking and nibbling fervently. He then gently tongued her pink star. She cooed in her youngster voice. “Hmm yeah, Daddy. Ooh, you’re so naughty.”
He felt he could happily spend days with his face planted between her cheeks. Though after a few minutes of indulgence, he forced himself to move up onto his knees and position himself for reentry.
Cock in hand, he slowly drove the head of his dick between Keaira’s spread cheeks. And she let out a whine more pleasure than pain. Her previous clenching and resisting had only made it more painful for her. She might actually enjoy it this time.
He took a hold of her slim waist and paused. “Tell me what you want.”
Keaira spoke with her childlike voice again. “I want you to spank my hiney Daddy. Spank my hiney raw. Spank my hiney until you explode.”
He replied to her wish by gradually shoving the whole of his stiff manhood into her. He thrust ever so slowly so he may savor the immense delight of her crown jewel. Also so Keaira may enjoy it. And her quivering moan confirmed her satisfaction.
He pulled back slow until only the tip was submerged, then plunged unhurried again. He continued to drive in and out, in and out, at this leisurely stride as he held her waist. And Keaira continued to reply with quivering moans of approval and girlish cries of, “Ooh yeah Daddy.”
After several blissful minutes of piercing her vice-like ass, again and again, Keaira beseeched him in her juvenile tone. “Spank me harder Daddy, spank me so hard. Please, Daddy, Please.”
“Well since you’ve been such a good little girl, okay.” Spike lowered himself atop her, slipping both arms under her, one to grip her slender shoulder firm, the other to seize her hair tight and turn her head sideways. He licked and sucked and groaned into her little ear as he worked his hips, driving into her a little harder and a little harder, quickening the rate of his deep thrusts a little more with each plunge. And Keaira’s cries grew in volume accordingly, until she was screaming with the full capacity of her lungs.
Spike paused for two heartbeats to grab Keaira’s black cotton panties with purple edging, and shoved them into her mouth to stifle her insistent screams.
He proceeded to pound and pummel and pulverize her tight ass in a feral state of passion, roaring with exasperated jubilation as he thrashed her so unmercifully. He beat and hammered her taut bottom, unleashing all his pent-up sexual aggression, until finally Keaira spit out her panties and screamed. “Oh fuck Daddy! Oh fuck! Oh fuck! I’m going to cum!”
Her body convulsed below him in a seizure of ecstasy. And Spike howled in rapturous euphoria as he expelled his hot load with the violent force of a discharging plasma-cannon. He would not be shocked nor ashamed if he found she had died at the moment of their climax. For the intensity with which he erupted within her had surely drawn the attention of all the libidinous gods and devils.
He lay there atop her, breathing heavy, his heart pounding, with his cock still buried between her ass cheeks. His mind was pleasantly blank with the high of flooding endorphins.
After his breath had returned to him, his heart rate slowed, and his consciousness reemerged from the post-orgasm heavenly void, Spike opened his eyes lazily with euphoric exhaustion and rose from the bed. He was bemused to find the alchemic circle, tattooed upon Keaira’s back, smoldering like burning incense. It emitted swirling wisps of violet smoke and little burning cinders.
The purple pixies all gathered around again, groping and softly biting each other in excitement. What has simulated them so?
The blood-red ivy reached from the decaying stone and twisted around his arms, legs, and torso. He was wrenched backward and pinned to the wall.
Keaira rose from the bed, her back still toward him. Her muscles rippled and her smoldering alchemic tattoo spewed violet smoke that whirled around her in a cloak of haze. It withdrew tight to her body and formed into a black and violet corset dress. Her choker, matching arm-warmers, and her thigh-high stockings had all morphed into intricately detailed silver, embedded with luminous amethyst gemstones and bristled with jagged spikes.
Keaira spun around, her purple pointed fingernails ready to slash. Her breasts had swelled to twice their original size and were bursting from her dress. A shadowy halo, like a possessing demon, besieged her body. Her scarlet eyes flared bright. Her jet black hair with crimson tips danced as though charged with electricity. Her little ears stretched to bat-like points and two stubby black horns sprouted from atop her head. Her soft mouth opened in a hiss and her canines grew into sharp gleaming fangs.
Spike shouted in surprise. “You’re a fucking succubus!”
With a supernatural velocity, Keaira lunged upon him and buried her fangs in one of the major arteries aside his jugular. A burning sting ran up his neck and into his mind. He writhed in agony. It felt as though every cell of his grey matter was being dissolved in acid. The auto-disconnect function, which should have been triggered by his critical pain, had somehow been subjugated or countermanded. A cyber-death within the Metaverse causes an intracerebral-aneurysm: A fatal seizure.
Consciousness began to fade to a hazy gloom of blackout. Spike was faintly aware of being lifted…carried…set down upon the bed. His sight flickered so what he witnessed seemed to skip forward in jerky movements.
Keaira returned to her original appearance. She slashed her left nipple with an amethystine fingernail. Scarlet blood dribbled down her breast. She cradled him in her arms and pressed his mouth to her bleeding bosom.
“Drink. It’ll stop the pain.” Her voice had taken on a motherly quality. “It’s okay. I fed just before bringing you here. You must drink.”
Blood seeped into his mouth. It tasted surprisingly sweet. He sucked weakly and hot syrup streamed over his tongue and down his throat. His mind cleared and his strength returned. His cock began to engorge.
Keaira caressed his cheek with a soothing hand. “Drink more.”
He nursed from her slit nipple and life force flowed freely. A warmth bred in his abdomen and spread throughout his body. His muscles pumped with superabundant strength. He felt he could run, leap, and fight with inconceivable force. The sweet scent of night flowers on the breeze suddenly became richer, somehow more real. Keaira’s heart beats became booming thunderclaps. He opened his eyes as he continued to suckle her breast, and found his vision had enhanced many fold. He watched the dancing pixies and could see every minuscule crease of their flesh. An intoxicating vigor rose from his core and he experienced both an exceptional exuberance and an intensifying lust to feed on more…neurogenic-energy.
“Shit!” Spike leap with wide eyes. “I thought neuro-vamps were only a myth, like cyber-ghosts. How can this be possible?”
“The meta-virus reawakens and reprograms the dormant nano-machines that remain after the neural interface implantation.”
His mind raced with such potent dynamic. “But the nano-machines are organic. They’re broken down naturally after all your neural-pathways are united with the interface.”
“The government claims they’re organic and biologically produced.” Exclaimed Keaira. “But that’s a blatant lie.”
“How can you know this?”
“It took me a long time to discover the truth. And I had help from my older brother.”
“Why would you do this?”
“There is a reason neuro-vampires hunt in packs. And even a second-gen cannot survive alone. For we are also hunted.”
Spike didn’t want to think just yet about who or what hunted neuro-vamps. He asked, “Why did you choose me?”
“No family. No friends.” She scanned him up and down with a pleased look. “A nova body. But most importantly, an angry thirst for more.”
“Are you, or should I say, were you a hacker?”
“Only a neophyte, though as you have just seen, I know how to create an avatar. My guru, the Etheric-Monk, sacrificed himself for me. He was an Elite, but there was just too damn many of them. He commanded me to flee. But I didn’t want to leave him. I wavered in my escape, and I was bitten for it.
“The first-gens will feed on you until you are left in a permanent vegetative-state, due to extensive brain damage. So there are very few second-gens.
“I can feed without passing the virus, and without causing permanent harm, if I desire.”
Thinking of classic vampire lore, Spike asked, “As my maker are you also my master?”
Keaira smiled jovially. “No. I’m your mate. That’s why I tested your sexual stamina. And I have to admit, I’ve never had so much fun.”
If it weren’t for the amazing high he was riding, he knew he would be in a state of utter shock. But the fact of the matter was that he wasn’t dazed. He was excited.
“Well then, now that we have played, let us hunt.” A devious grin split his face and his eyes radiated with vengeful wrath. “And I know the most deserving asshole to be our first prey.”
Keaira smiled eager, and then kissed his blood soaked lips.
