Insatiable Ch. 02

"How's Devin doing?"

"He's recovering" she said before taking a long sip of her bubbly. "He can take a few days off and think about what I said."

"Do you think he'll harbor a grudge?"

"If I detect even a hint of defiance, I'll strap him down and fuck him until the condom breaks. Leave him a mundane mess for his trouble. He can go back to being a pleasure slave."

"Are you sure he wouldn't enjoy that?"

Sadie chuckled, but ultimately ignored the question. Her gaze fixed on Tristan as he continued to watch the young woman in her cell. The matriarch's expression grew annoyed. "Tristan, I went to all this trouble and you haven't even looked my way."

The gimp-suited slave snapped out of his musings. He turned to see his gorgeous Goddess downing the last of her wine. Her ample curves were outlined in lustrous, shiny red. Sadie's dark hair was pulled back into an elegant bun behind her head. She wasn't wearing stilettos or heels of any kind. Her matching red rubber boots were flat bottomed. Tristan smiled. He knew exactly what that meant.

"You look amazing, my love. A peerless beauty beyond measure."

Sadie smiled back and the curve of her lips betrayed romantic sentiment. She was a Domme to the core, but she still loved compliments. Flattery would get you everywhere with her.

She turned, set her glass on the bar and stalked back toward her submissive. She stopped after a few paces and put her hands on her wide hips. "I'm feeling primal today. I want you to resist me. As much as you're able."

Tristan took a few steps forward, his smile widening into a grin. The thick, black latex stretched around his broad, medium-build frame. His sparkling blue eyes peered through the holes in his bondage hood. He stood at attention, tucking his arms behind his back and clasping his hands together.

Studying the stunning Domina up and down, he noticed her arousal growing quickly. Her nipples were jutting dents in the latex of her costume. She wasn't even close to fully erect, but the bulge at her crotch was clearly visible. Her shaft stretched down into the pocket of her rubber-clad thigh.

"It will be my pleasure, Mistress."

She stalked forward eagerly and embraced the statuesque gimp. They entered a deep tongue kiss and Sadie assaulted his mouth with diving tongue and nibbling teeth. She groped him all over; caressing his still-strong arms and ample ass. She pressed her rubber breasts and wide hips on him firmly.

Tristan enjoyed the kiss and her aggressive attentions for long moments before giving his Goddess what she wanted. He unclasped his hands, reached forward and shoved her away harshly. Their sudden separation raked her teeth over his tongue and lips, drawing a thin trail of blood. Every time they did this, her reaction was the same. Even though she knew it was coming, she looked shocked, annoyed and at the same time, giddy with lust.

She leapt forward and grabbed his arms with both hands, pressing her lips to his once more. She savored the taste of blood as she dove back into his mouth, holding his arms firmly at his sides. Tristan let her enjoy the sensation for a few moments before summoning all his strength and pushing her away again. The rubber-clad vixen fell back a few steps. Her eyes were locked on his, burning with obsession.

This time she darted forward with incredible speed and took hold of the leather harness around his torso. She heaved him forward, guiding her stumbling bitch boy until she rammed him into one of the chairs at the side of the bar. Sadie increased the pressure, pushing him harder until he was forced, face-first, into the counter. With one arm she turned him over and held him down, locking one of his arms against the surface.

*SMACK SMACK*

Her free hand flashed out and struck him across the face twice in quick succession. Tristan's latex hood did little to soften the brutal sting. Her blows were followed up by a wet splatter as Sadie spit a wad of phlegm into his eyes and nose.

"Fucking slut! Be a good boy and submit!!!"

Tristan pushed on her midsection with his free hand. He flexed his legs and tried to free himself from between her powerful thighs, but it was useless. Her well sculpted legs were like columns of marble.

As he struggled, Sadie reached down and pressed her index finger into his mouth. She began pumping it in and out of his lips, gliding it over his tongue and enjoying the warm, wet sensation. A devious grin spread across her face as she manhandled him with one arm and finger fucked his mouth with the other.

"Just going to let me finger you like a bitch in heat, hmmm? Are you even trying?"

Once again, Tristan knew what she wanted and happily gave it to her. He bit down viciously on her finger, drawing blood and causing her to rip it from his gritting teeth. She grunted in annoyance, shook her wrist, and looked down at him with renewed passion.

Sadie grabbed his harness a second time, pulled him from the bar and threw him across the room. Tristan stumbled and fell, tumbling to the floor and landing in a heap. By the time he got to his feet, she was already on top of him. Even in the prime of his youth and gifted with the strength of the Chosen, he wouldn't have been able to match her. The fearsome abilities of a Chosen matriarch were too much for any male to contest.

He lifted his arms as if to grapple with her, but he needn't have bothered. With unnatural speed, she slid around his side and took his back. Sadie grabbed his right arm and wrenched it up behind him painfully. Tristan's body screamed in ache and she used her new leverage to shove him in the direction she wanted.

Maintaining a strong grip on his arm, Sadie forced him against a mahogany console table. She kneed him in the groin before reaching down and clearing the surface with a sweep of her arm. The series of metal platters, elegant cutlery and a collection of wine glasses were thrown aside, clattering to the floor in a series of clangs and shatters.

She slammed him down on the surface and reached into a drawer directly below the table. A pair of handcuffs was brought to bear and she snapped the first half around his captive wrist. Tristan pushed back with his other hand and kicked with his feet, but not for long. With one arm secure, Sadie grabbed the other, pulling it behind his back tightly and fastening the other cuff with a series of metallic clinks.

Sadie kicked his legs apart and grabbed the top of his hood roughly. She pulled his head back and bathed in the euphoric glow of absolute control.

"YOU PATHETIC LITTLE SHIT!!! Is that the best you could do?!? I know you're getting old, but come now! That was sad, even for a sissy bitch mundane!"

Tristan's back door zipper was hastily ripped down as Sadie's breathing grew ragged. She panted with need as she guided her own zipper downward, careful not to catch her steel-hard length of jutting cock. It sprang from its rubber prison, pulsing with heat and lust as it tasted cool air.

Sadie brought her glans directly to Tristan's soft, waiting pucker. She took a firm grip of his sides and thrust forward with every bit of force her hips could muster. The gimp slut yelped as she buried her entire length in his well trained ass in one powerful stroke.

Tristan saw stars as his head hung off the end of the table and his arms contested with circular steel behind him. Their aggressive play had gotten him sweaty inside the thick rubber suit. He was used to her strength, size and ferocity, but that never made her entry feel any less rough. The ring of his pucker burned as she sank to the hilt in one smooth motion and brought her heavy scrotum to rest against his.

The Mistress of the manor wasted no time entering a steady fucking rhythm. She dove in and out of his warm, fleshy walls with lustful glee. Her every nerve ending lit up with immaculate pleasure as she began a long, hard anal pounding. The slap of flesh on flesh clapped out as the wood and metal of the table rattled with each thrust. Their latex suits stretched and creaked around their bodies as she fucked him raw. Tristan lay in a daze, helpless as Mistress Sadie took his ass in her absolute favorite way.

It wasn't rape, but it sure felt like it. Somewhere in the back of her mind, Sadie knew that Tristan had enjoyed every minute of this and would like it even more the harder she went. But that awareness was so far away, it might as well have been on another continent. Sadie was deep in the lizard part of her brain. Her only desires were fucking and conquest. In her mind's eye, it was the first time they'd ever met. She'd caught him in an alley, bent him over a garbage can and was viciously spearing his unwilling, virgin man cunt.

Even the taste of blood on her lips and the red nectar dripping from her bitten finger couldn't distract her from the throes of rutting ecstasy. Her heavy balls, churning with viscous batter, slapped into Tristan's smaller, trapped privates as she filled him with thick cock over and over again. Her need for domination reached its peak and she released one hip to lean forward and grab the back of Tristan's neck. She tightened her fingers around the sides of his throat as she fucked him into oblivion.

"Take it you slut!!! TAKE MY COCK YOU CUM DUMP BITCH!!!"

"Yes, Mistress!"

Annoyed at the interruption of her fantasy, Sadie squeezed his neck harder. She flared her nostrils and snarled as she railed his tight, silky hole; determined to stretch it out and make it gape even wider.

"SHUT UP, slave! Or I will gag your fucking mouth!!!"

Grunts and pleasurable moans filled the room, adding to the soundtrack of body slaps and jolting furniture. Tristan's eyelids lulled and his mouth hung open as his prostate was set ablaze and pure pleasure overtook him. With Sadie's considerable stamina, it could be a half hour or more before she flooded his depths with sticky semen and pulled free from his packed ass. Even then, his primal Goddess was rarely satisfied with one climax. He could look forward to cleaning her soiled, sticky schlong on bent knees.

* * * * *

Reynauld leaned against the payphone. He waited impatiently as the ringing continued to drone in his ear. He'd already hung up the receiver once and dialed again. Either his timing was unlucky or Father Enjami was being overly suspicious.

"C'mon Father, pick up."

The buzzing continued for several more rings until the call was finally answered.

"Hello?"

"Hey Father" the hunter spoke in utter exhaustion.

"Reynauld? I'm sorry, I didn't recognize the number."

"Yeah, I'm at a bar. Didn't want to chance it with my own phone."

"Have you been drinking? What's going on?" The concern in the old man's voice was evident.

"Oh yeah, I've had a few, but I'm not drunk if that's what you're asking. We have a situation."

"A situation? There's a nest in Tumwater?"

"A big one by the looks of it. And they got Rosa."

"What?!? How???"

"They got a beat on us. Grabbed her when we were separated."

"If you weren't there, how do you know?"

"They slipped a note under my door earlier today. Says if I don't show up tonight, unarmed, we'll never see her again."

"Show up where? You know where they're holding her?"

"It's called the Scarlet Sanctum. We staked it out the other day."

"Reynauld, listen to me. I want you to wait until I call in backup. You'll go in together to sweep and clean."

"Backup? What backup? We both know there's no fucking backup! There aren't enough people to cover the current assignments. Besides, Rosa doesn't have that much time!"

"Whatever they're going to do to her, they've already done. And if the nest is as big as you're saying, you can't go in alone. There's no point! It's too risky."

"You don't know that and the risk is mine to take. I'm gonna get her back."

"Reynauld, this is foolish! Do you think that's what your daughter would want? For you to throw your life away?!?"

"Don't do that, Father. Don't talk about the dead in hypotheticals. It's a shitty thing to do."

Father Enjami let out a heavy sigh. Reynauld listened to the background chatter of bar patrons and televisions as he waited for the priest to accept his decision and grant his blessing. After several long seconds of silence, he was done waiting.

"I couldn't save Ophelia, but I might be able to save Rosa. I'm going in. If you don't hear from me in forty eight hours, you know what to do."

"Wait! REYNAULD!"

*CLICK*

* * * * *

The candles were lit. The altar was set. All that remained was the offering.

Cassandra sat in the dark before the collection of engraved stones, burning incense, flickering candlelight and a large, empty bowl. It had been months since she last attempted the sacred rite of Blood Communion. It was best not to trouble the ancestors too often. If you did, they might stop answering. Or worse.

Now was the perfect time. Kayden had gone home to pack some things and inform his friends and family of his plans; or at least some version of them. The fact that he would soon be a full time resident was why Cassie now sat, cross legged, in her basement dungeon. She wasn't sure when she'd get another chance to do this. At least not at home. Not until Kayden understood and accepted what she truly was.

Cassandra took deep breaths through her nose, exhaling each slowly through her mouth. She entered a state of meditation, clearing her mind of all distractions. The dark haired beauty reached down with purpose and took up the knife. She raised her left arm and extended it forward, her palm outstretched over the empty bowl.

Her right hand joined it and the knife bit deeply into her flesh. She uttered only a slight pained murmur as the edge flowed through her hand and her crimson fluids began to leak. First a long trickle from the deep wound, pooling in a dark red puddle. After the initial gush, blood continued to dribble down into the bowl, turning slowly to drips as it collected in the bottom. Her heartbeat ticked up as Cassie set down the knife. The essence of life wept from her hand as she closed her eyes and recited the invocation in her mind.

'Honored ancestors of the night. Proud and long lived Chosen! I offer you my very own blood. In return, I ask only that you listen and offer your counsel should you choose.'

*drip drip drip drip drip drip drip drip drip drip*

As her blood gathered in the offering well, Cassie's eyes remained shut and she waited for the first whispers to arrive. They came quickly, creeping into the recesses of her mind and echoing through the emptiness of her zen state. The light of the candles danced on her placid face as a thousand hungry voices gathered in her mind.

Soon, she would ask the first of her three questions. Never more than three. Everything she'd read about the rite was explicitly clear on that point.

'Ancestors... Has the time come for me to leave Sadie and the Crimson Tide?'

'No...'

'Not yet, child.'

'Patience!'

'Noooo...'

Consensus. Always a good sign. Cassie waited a spell before posing her second query.

'Ancestors... Can I form a new clan without making Sadie my enemy?'

'Hahahahaha!'

'Unlikely.'

'Perhaps?'

'Good luck, half blood!'

*cackle*

Unhelpful. She would try asking the question a different way next time. Some of them loved to mock how she wasn't like Sadie. Wasn't pure blood. The Chosen had always been hung up on bloodlines and purity, for obvious reasons. Cassandra waited before asking the final question, but not long. Too much blood loss and she would start to grow faint.

'Ancestors... The young man I've just met, Kayden. Shall I bind him to me and make him one of the Chosen?'

'Yes.'

'No!'

'Dangerous.'

'Do it!'

'Hard to say.'

'Risky...'

Division. It was sadly common. The ancestors were diverse and often had different views. This wasn't turning out to be one of the more insightful communions, but it was always worth the effort to seek the elders wisdom.

Just as Cassie was about to bring the ceremony to a close, a steely voice pierced the veil of her mind. A deep, vicious, authoritative growl that ripped through the chorus of whispers like a rampaging beast.

'YES!!! BIND HIM. DRINK OF HIM!'

The gruff voice echoed loudly through her mind, silencing all other whispers. It was a very old voice. The voice of a patriarch and leader of their kind from long ago. A voice that would never be challenged.

Cassandra was astonished. In her many uses of the blood rite, she'd never felt such a forceful presence in her mind, nor such an insistent answer. It almost scared her, but she maintained her composure until the echoing of the voice ceased. She breathed deeply and brought the ritual to an end.

'Thank you, honored ancestors! May this offering sate your thirst until next we meet.'

A few dozen whispers lingered in her mind, moaning and sighing as they drank their fill. Before long, they faded into the darkness and Casandra was alone with her thoughts once again. She opened her eyes and reached over to the waiting med kit. She licked her bleeding palm before wrapping it with gauze, a measure that would only be needed for thirty minutes. After that, there would be no wound.

Cassie returned her gaze to the altar. She watched as candlelight flickered across the bowl. Aside from a few dried up splatter marks, the vessel was empty.

* * * * *

"Easy boys! No need to get rough" Reynauld said as he was led into the main hall by two of the Chosen. It wasn't just their strong grips that gave them away. Their slightly pale skin and the faint smell of blood were tell tale signs. Normally they'd mask it with cologne, but they didn't need to here. Their three piece suits and fancy jewelry were another giveaway. Were they all obsessed with fashion?

Reynauld's trench coat had been stripped away and discarded when they searched him before clearing him through security. All that was left were his tall leather boots, black cargo pants and the white, form fitting t-shirt that outlined his muscular frame. He'd thought about going in guns blazing, but he lacked the firepower and the numbers were against him. A frontal assault would have failed.

The footsteps of the three echoed through the cavernous hall as they made their way into a grand foyer of pure opulence. The building was dripping in wealth. Massive mural paintings. Drapes of the finest red velvet. Intricate detail on the woodwork lining the stairs, walls and furnishings.

At the base of the stairs, two more guards were waiting. At the top stood a woman in red latex looking pleased as punch. She held a riding crop in one hand and a two way radio in the other. The haughty hostess chuckled as the trio made their way in. She studied the hunter carefully from afar.

They brought Reynauld to a stop in the middle of the entrance-way; their hands still clinging to his biceps. Sadie began her casual descent down the stairs, her hips strutting as her curves flexed in red rubber. Her eyes remained locked on the interloper.

"Greetings, Mr. Blanchet! Welcome to my home! May I call you Rey?"

"Only my best friends get to call me that."

"Ah. Well, perhaps we'll be good friends soon."