invisiblecompany

In the moments before it was enshrouded by the artificial light that kept the city in perpetual daytime, the orange hues from the setting sun coalesced with the random flickering of individual neon lights. In those moments, the world seemed livable, barely.

Willow made her way to the deck of the boat after paying her fare, wrapped her scarf round tight and turned up the collar of her coat. Oxford being one of the cities that decided not to implement climate control, its residents were able to enjoy (or be subject to, whatever way one wished to think about it) the extremes in weather. She wondered what it would feel like not to be constantly cold.

Perhaps when you stop meting out punishments for yourself?

Once inside the club she retreated to the corner of the balcony with her drink, watching the floor below her with quiet indifference. Once upon a time, watching humans in twos or threes (occasionally more) naked and writhing and thrusting and sucking each other would have been titillating, but it no longer affected her. Still she watched and listened and hoped that she could find some spark within herself.

"If your taste go beyond humans, we have some other varieties in our invitation-only area," an oily voice sounded at her left ear. "Not to mention activities that are much more, ah, exciting."

"And how does one secure one of these presumably exclusive invitations?" she asked of the well-dressed man, though obviously nothing more than a minion, having sensed his presence before he spoke.

"Diplomats, high rollers, celebrities, and," he swallowed, "the master of Los Angeles who have been a valued visitor but whom the Owner has been totally derelict in his duty not to extend a personal invitation until now — he wishes to express his regret and apologies personally. We don't want trouble, master."

"I'm here as a casual visitor. My choice to be incognito."

"Our hospitality remains the same. Please, allow me to invite you inside."

She really had very little interest of getting involved in the type of politics the owner of a club like this engaged in, but they played their hand when they approached her, and the ball was in her court now. Plus this place was intriguing enough for return visits so she signed inwardly and put on her coldest, most arrogant sneer.

"I'll allow it. Lead on."

*****

She was very buzzed when she stumbled her way home. The Owner, an elegant Chinese man (one thing's sure in life, if there's profit to be made, there's bound to be an Asian face behind it) in a very well cut smoking jacket, had most certainly spiked her drinks, yet she downed them all with a gusto that suggested that she did not have a care in the world.

Who's ever heard of a vampire dying of a drug overdose?

"You be needing help opening your own door?" two giggly voices stage-whispered behind her.

"I'll get it opened faster if you jokers would stop yabbing," a very uncharacteristic Willow comeback. A more sober Willow would have scared the women away with her demon visage, or at least given them a cold, hard stare.

But these two young, nubile, barely-dressed nymphlets were courtesy of Mr Xia. She could not help but remember how fascinated she was at his delicate, feminine hands that held a cigarette just like they did in the black and white films. She sat there all night watching in a haze as he blew out the smoke in a silvery plume around him, like a misty aura.

Aura!

It had been so long, she did not even read him. It used to be so natural, bordering on the erotic, now it was like an abandoned hobby, a rusty set of skills, that she never brought out. How quickly she forgot. How much longer before the memories faded into nothing until only the demon was left?

"Really like to be getting inside now," Nympho One whined.

Willow's attention snapped back in a second, although not without taking a detour through an immense amount of annoyance. She finally unlocked the door, only for two chiffon shapes to rush past her. "Need the little girls' room so bad."

Of course the little girls had no idea where the little girls' room was, so they were opening all the doors and just as quickly closing them as they discovered it was not what they were looking for. Until they came to the Quiet Room.

The girls stood frozen as their eyes became accustomed to the darkness and the array of instruments and devices meticulously arranged in the room. Despite their demeanor, they were both professionals, specially chosen by Mr Xia to service the mysterious young woman who he kept referring to as Master. They knew what the room was for.

"I call it the Quiet Room because no matter how loud the screams are inside, no one outside can hear a thing," the voice behind them had dropped an octave and ten decibels as it became quietly (heh, no pun intended) menacing.

"Please, we'd just like to go to the bathroom." Trying to move away, out of sight of the scary chains and the wheels and — was that real blood on the walls?

"You will move when I say so. In fact starting right now you will not do anything unless I have given you explicit instructions to do so, am I clear?" There was no questioning the authority, the darkness, in the tone. Or the fact that they were so tightly controlled by magic they could not help but obey.

She stripped them, noticing from the foul stench that perhaps they had needed the bathroom afterall, their soiled clothing she put in a neat pile inside the control center to be cleaned. Gagged and chained and spread-eagled with their swollen pussies so readily available, she stepped back to observe her handiwork at the same time as reaching for the long thin pieces of metal neatly arranged in a glass topped drawer.

As she worked the girls she tried to banish the image of vertical frown lines between a pair of beautiful eyebrows, and a soft voice that spoke so much using so few words.

Please baby. I need this. I won't kill them, I promise, I won't even feed on them. I'm fresh outta ideas, I need to feel something, anything, right now. I'm so lost.