tagNovels and NovellasReach Out For The Sunrise Ch. 07

Reach Out For The Sunrise Ch. 07



More apologies for the delay, again... I know, I know! We edit too slowly but we're both in full time employment and it's hard sometimes to find the space to just sit down and work on (in)decent smut.

There is a warning of consenting sexual violence with this chapter. If you don't like it, please don't read it and then complain. The BDSM arc within Sunrise concludes here but it will NOT be the final chapter of the story. I estimate another three chapters, roughly in line with Dark Paths. The end of Seven may come as a shock to some readers, so please fasten your seatbelts and make sure you are sitting comfortably before you begin.

Enjoy your flight (of fantasy).

xxx.Sadie & Bellora



After Xavier's performance and subsequent deal with Marco the party seemed to amp up, although Xav was even less inclined to stay and join in the fun. He sat quietly by Clay and PJ, drinking and watching the antics going on around them. There seemed to be a lot of showing off and Xavier couldn't help noticing several young men vying for Aldo's attention. Clay did not lack for admirers either and was soon engaged in conversation with a few boys.

Xavier was calculating how long he would have to stay before he could make polite excuses and retreat to his bedroom. At least he had Marco to thank for a ready-made excuse. He actually did have to get up early.

PJ leaned close to him. "Although you look lovely on my arm you don't have to sit here and keep an old man company, Xavier," he murmured softly.

"I like sitting with you," his young companion said determinedly, but PJ was not to be deterred.

"Why don't you go have some fun? Introduce yourself to some of these young studs Aldo has invited, hmm? You've got them all stirred up and now you're hiding behind me. People will start to talk," he said with a teasing smile.

Xav gave him a warm smile back. "Let them talk."

After a moment his smile faded a bit and he looked away, seeing the concern in PJ's eyes that the older man was trying not to show. Chavez came up behind him then and slid his arms around his neck, pushing his hands down his bared chest and leaning in to kiss the corner of his jaw.

"Come and dance with me?" he coaxed in a whisper just below Xav's ear.

Xavier stifled a sigh. He wasn't in the mood for this. Not at all. Nonetheless he let the other man pull him up from the chair, because for some reason he didn't want to disappoint Chavez. Besides, working up a sweat would keep him from sitting there and getting drunk, and it made PJ brighten up some.

Chavez started to bounce to the beat and Xavier moved with him. Maybe getting lost in the music would be a good thing. He could close his eyes and let it flow over him and pretend he didn't hurt for a while.

It didn't take long before they were joined by more sleek, tanned, muscular bodies moving to the beat. Xavier tried to ignore the people around him, he gave off a definite vibe of 'leave-me-alone' and yet he almost immediately was surrounded by a little cluster of young men, dancing and flirting and try to get his attention. If anything his standoffish attitude was even more of a lure.

One guy in particular was being more persistant than the rest and he introduced himself as Palo. He spoke English with a heavy Italian accent that Xavier had to listen to hard in order to understand, but he still managed to convey his admiration for Xav's dancing (among other things).

Xavier was polite, although he tried moving away a couple times, but Palo wasn't easily put off. He kept putting himself in Xavier's path and trying to talk to him. He must have sensed Xavier was getting annoyed because he finally got desprate enough to try a new tactic, although Xavier wasn't really all that pleased with this one either.

"Hey, you teach me some moves, eh?" Palo asked. "Show me how you dance like that? How you move is like, ah... sometimes a girl, sometimes a boy?"

Chavez, who was dancing right behind Xav at the time, snickered at this observation and Xav made a face and elbowed him in the ribs. Maybe it was that knowing snicker, but for whatever reason Xavier agreed to show Palo a few steps. It was actually pretty astute of Palo to pick up on the way Xav danced. He did combine a certain feminine quality while still retaining a masculine strength to his dancing. It was deliberate, part of the way he interpreted the music, and he liked playing with androgyny. It wasn't easy to make it look good either. Females could do choreography meant for male dancers and still make it look ultra feminine. Males doing the flip of that more often then not had a hard time pulling it off without looking totally sissified.

With a little shrug Xav agreed to an impromptu lesson. "You want to learn choreography or you just wanna look good in the club?"

"Sì." Palo responed.

Xavier chuckled at last. "Okay. First things first, you gotta learn the difference between boys and girls." This made Palo laugh and Xavier echoed it but pressed his point. "If you want to make something look masculine you have to end the movement sort of abruptly. Pop your hips rather than roll them. Like this."

He demonstrated the difference with a hard little kick of his pelvis.

"Also, keep your arm movement at or below the shoulder." He took a couple steps, popping his hips and keeping the movement of his arms crisp and sharp. It was a simple combination that was used in a lot of hip-hop choreography.

"Now, if you want a more feminine look you can do almost the same thing but smoother. Roll your hips and make your arms flow from one movement to the next." Xavier said, demonstrating the difference by doing the same combination only with a body roll that brought the arms up all the way over his head and looked more like something a middle eastern belly dancer would do.

Palo was smiling and nodding, although Xav wasn't sure how much of this he was absorbing and how much he was just enjoying the show.

"Either way you have to remember to isolate each movement. Don't let it get sloppy." Xavier moved again, seemlessly gliding with the beat of the music, showing how it looked when each part of his body stayed in perfect control, from the way his chest popped first before moving lower to roll his belly and continue the movement through the swivel of his hips. It was very professional looking and particularly erotic when slowed down.

Xavier happened to know the choreography for the song that was playing, and he taught Palo a few simple steps, or what he thought would be simple. The guy didn't have two left feet, but he had probably never really thought about remembering steps to a song before. He encouraged Palo to try a few times and then after watching for a moment or two stepped behind him and put his hands on his hips.

"You're thinking too much. Close your eyes." He waited a second. "Ok, now listen for the base notes in the song."

He gave a little push on Palo's hips and got him through the moves, this time perfectly. Palo was happy with his accomplishment and Xavier laughed good naturedly, clapping his hands for him and dancing along. He was actually starting to relax a little, having some fun and getting into the feel of the casual atmosphere.

Then, the song changed, and so did Xavier's entire countenance. Someone had scrolled through some of the playlists and probably very innocently picked one called 'Backroom Sets'. Dark Paths seeped out of the speakers, with all the seduction the Whipsnade track had originally held for Xavier. It wrapped around him like a strangling vine that had suddenly grown thorns and he abruptly stopped dancing. Pain and anger mixed inside him in equal measure as Rayne's voice began to sing the opening lines. Xavier stood there, ignoring Palo's questioning look. He didn't know what to do. He would feel stupid if he went over to the sound system and changed the track, and worse than stupid if he ran into the house to go bury his head under his pillows like he wanted to. Palo called his name and Xavier turned and quickly walked away.


By the time of his third visit to la Griffe, Rayne knew the routines of the club by rote. The owner was a werebear, a massive Finn named Henning Szarbo who tolerated vampire clients although he made it plain that he had no love for them. The girl on reception was his mate, though she was a wildcat not a bear, quite literally at certain times of the month! Her name was Carmine and she was just as fond of dealing out pain as the muscular boy who had been his initial scourge; which he discovered on his second trip to the club.

On the second night he had been loosely restrained in one of the male-rape cells. They stripped, blindfolded and collared him, fastening the collar with iron rings to a pair of iron loops in the concrete floor. His wrists were pulled between his legs and manacled with iron cuffs to opposing ankles so that he could not rise. The brace-gag was put in his mouth to keep his jaws open and his fangs away from vulnerable flesh whilst he was throat fucked by a German leather stud who went by the name of Carlsen. Rayne did not fight the restraints at any stage, giving himself up to the hot, mortal cock in his mouth. Carlsen was horse hung and wasted no energy on words as he bucked his sweaty crotch frantically in the vampire's face.

When his mouth was running with cum, Carmine was let loose on him. She had lost her mother and two brothers to a vampire attack in Heidelberg when she was just fourteen. This was explained to him, in breathless tones, as she flogged his naked back with a length of flexible steel cable. Her anger was only let loose between bouts of controlled violence. When she was not beating him she stalked about the cell in her high-heeled, blood-spattered, white, PVC boots and ranted at him about how much she loathed vampires. But whilst she was thrashing him, a steely, ice-cold control came over her as if she worked to a script, perfectly choreographed.

Afterwards the German male fucked him vigorously up the arse whilst she watched without visible emotion. The raking sensation of his ten inch prick drove his client into a steady sexual frenzy. Shamelessly, Rayne came like a fountain for him.

Tonight he checked in and let himself be led down to the private chambers, undressed and washed and buckled into the restraints on the rotating X-frame in the Punishment Room as his clothing was folded and put away carefully in one of the lockers. Since feeding from Adora a couple of nights ago he had not allowed himself to be tempted by mortals again. She had been sweet and beautiful in his bed, a balm to his frayed nerves, but the taste of her blood was a raw and bitter memory in the back of his throat now and he felt that old sense of nausea at the thought of consuming more.

When Henning Szarbo, who would be his scourge, entered the chamber wearing leather pants so fine and tight that they looked as if they had been sprayed onto his skin, Rayne was a little surprised, but interested nonetheless. He had been worked over professionally thus far but tonight he would experience the hand of a master, and a powerful Shape-shifter at that. Carmine fastened the cushioned straps around his wrists and ankles and locked the metal bracelets tightly around them. Rayne pulled against them half-heartedly as she put the head collar on him and bolted it in place, then crouched to manoeuvre his cock and balls through the ring in the centre of the X, positioned perfectly to hold him in place. He winced as she tightened the ring a little harder than necessary. She knew that as a vampire he could not be physically damaged but maybe she wanted to test the theory out for herself.

If she wanted tears, she would be disappointed. He gritted his teeth and managed not to moan out loud. It would be difficult to get fully hard with the ring locked tight but he was willing to give it a go.

When she reached for the jaw brace, Henning shook his head though. Rayne exhaled a little sigh of relief. He could tolerate having his mouth forced open but the plates stopped his fangs extending fully and that was painful once he became fiercely aroused.

"Monsieur Wylde is not foolish," Henning rumbled now, waving the young werecat, in her short, tight, black latex dress, back towards the door of the chamber. "He will not bite me if he knows what is good for him."

It was a warning, but it sounded almost like a threat. Rayne was prepared to heed it, he did not want to cross the Finn. Human sadists were one thing, but a man who was half-bear and trained in the application of pain was not someone to trifle with. Henning was barefoot tonight. He wore a pair of criss-crossed, studded belts loose on his hips. A black collar and gauntlets running from wrist to elbow matched the belts. Henning's muscular torso must have been oiled with the whole bottle to gleam the way it did. Even the pelt of fair hair on his chest and belly glinted with jewels of oil. His head hair was shaved to within a centimetre of his skull though, and his little pointed beard was trimmed immaculately. Blue eyes like chips of ice glinted knowingly in the craggy face that looked down at Rayne.

The vampire managed a weak, half-smile and let his head drop as far as the collar would allow it to go. Which was not far at all.

He heard the sound of Carlsen's booted feet stomping in from the hallway as Carmine clicked out curtly. The hirsute, burly German was wearing a short black biker jacket tonight and black denim cut-offs that barely reached mid-thigh. They showed off his dark, well-defined leg muscles and the sculpted perfection of his abs and pecs. His black, buckled boots were stack heeled and covered in ornate chrome-work. Under different circumstances Rayne would have been impressed.

Carlsen saw his look and flashed a humourless grin that was almost feral enough to belong to a non-human.

"Good to kick a man in the balls with!" he acknowledged coldly.

The vampire already knew that Carlsen had a passion for inflicting pain. And he was very, very good at it. What the muscular German could do with just his hands and dick surpassed the mindless violence of the street a thousand times. Last night he had only been raped by the man, but Carlsen knew just how to walk that line between ecstasy and agony. He knew how to make it hurt but still force a man to come hard for him. Rayne was not unhappy to see him walk into the cell this evening.

"What's the game tonight then?" Carlsen asked his boss now.

Henning's smile held no humour. He was staring contemplatively at their 'victim' as he selected the toys he would use on the vampire.

"Break him," he rumbled, and Rayne heard his knuckles crack as he flexed hands that were already sporting ursine talons.

"Toll!" Carlsen exclaimed delightedly. "Let's crack on then. Are you ready little blood-drinker? Are you ready to have your skin flayed and your ass busted open?"

"Bring it on," Rayne told him laconically, with a tilt of his head.

Henning gripped the X-frame, which pivoted on a central axle between a pair of rigid upright posts. Once Rayne was strapped into the fixed wrist and ankle restraints the frame could be turned through 360 degrees and locked in any position required. The huge blond were-bear spun the frame a couple of times to disorient his client, then locked it on the perpendicular, with Rayne's head upward, his slim body leaning forward into the frame, arms and legs braced apart.

"Tonight is about our pleasure," he growled softly, moving between the Englishman's slender thighs and laying his clawed hands on Rayne's bare arse. "You consented to be ours. Are you content that the rules remain the same as before?"

"Uh-huh," Rayne nodded, very conscious of the heat emanating from those big, powerful hands.

"You will not give us a safe word?" This was clearly troubling Henning, it had caused arguments from the first night. He told the vampire that he had never punished a client who did not make use of the safe word at some point in the proceedings.

"I don't need it," Rayne Wylde said atonally, as he had on the previous two nights that he had visited them.

His money was as good as any other man's, but still Rayne knew that Henning did not like the situation. He did not like what Rayne was and he did not like disruption of his well-ordered system. Most of the treatments on offer here had been tried out and tested thoroughly before they were used on paying customers. Even the more extreme tortures were road-trialed first. But what they were doing here was freestyling. The vampire was baiting them to see how far they would go and Henning was aware that he was doing it. And curious about his reasons though he would not ask for an explanation.

The were had vast reserves of self-control, but his human colleague did not. Rayne guessed that Henning was privately concerned he would wind Carlsen up to do something drastic. And he was right to be worried. Rayne felt a little twinge of guilt, Henning Szarbo was not a bad guy, for a were. If anything bad happened it would be his reputation on the line, but that was not Rayne Wylde's problem right now.

Getting the last twelve months out of his system was.

"You are hungry," Henning said, low, for his ears only. His fingers contracted on Rayne's arse cheeks and the long, pointed black claws pierced soft, white skin, sinking deeper. He let his lips brush the nape of the vampire's slim, white neck. "Your skin is cold and pale. Do you not wish to feed before we bleed you?"

"Is this place a restaurant now?" Rayne asked, a little bit breathlessly. He was wriggling his hips, but not too much because of the way that the fixed cock ring pulled on his genitals. The slow penetration of Henning's talons felt cold and clean like cutting himself did. He focussed on the way that the bear's hard, curved claws sank into his flesh and let it shut out everything else. It felt so good that he wanted to cry for the relief of it.

"As you wish," Henning Szarbo sighed, shaking his head. "But you will bleed for us tonight, vampire."

"I'm going to pierce your milky skin, little blood-drinker," Carlsen chuckled like a malevolent demon. His olive dark complexion was certainly devilish, and the tight, wet curls of his black hair danced around those swarthy features as he got to work in front of Rayne with a number of fine, steel skewers.

Rayne watched the muscular German intently as he used the sharp little rods to puncture the skin of his client's bared chest, threading the skewer through the soft flesh like a needle through silk. The bite of these little metal pins was a small pain compared to the tug of Henning's claws but it sent little shivers of need through his body and he felt his dick stiffen in spite of the metal ring around its root.

The were drew his talons out of Rayne's clenching buttocks and the young vampire strapped to the frame uttered a tiny, helpless whimper of disappointment. The emotion was not to last. Henning laid his hand on Rayne's shoulder and slowly drew his clawed fingers down his client's naked back.

"Yessss!" Rayne hissed, bucking against the ring that held his prick and balls as the heat poured through him from the slow lacerations in his skin. The small, round puncture wounds in his arse-cheeks were already healing but a trickle of watery blood ran from the five narrow rents in his back. He felt it tickle down his spine like hot sweat.

"You like that, Monsieur?" the tall, powerful were growled huskily into his ear. He stroked one slightly curved claw up and down the vampire's ass crack, caressing the smooth skin between his cheeks and teasing the tight, pink pucker of his anus with the tip of the pointed spur.

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