She felt good. Strong, in control, with the constant urge of her hunger to keep her on edge.
She looked good. Her costume, her body, her presence were the bait for the trap that she was. The trap had never failed. Soon it would spring again.
She searched for a man. A certain kind of man - a man who would fall beneath the spell of her imperious will, who would follow without question or hesitation to the ecstasy she promised. That the path would be dangerous would not stop such a man. The man she wanted would be captivated, rendered without will by the strength of her hunger. He waited for her appearance in the night, never suspecting what he was awaiting, only knowing it would come.
She had dressed with her usual care for the evening, her stockings hugging the long, sensuous legs with their full hips. Her garters were unadorned black, and she disdained other under- wear. Her blouse was black silk, endlessly caressing her imper- tinently erect nipples. The skirt and jacket, both short and tight, were of thin, supple, black leather. Her only concession to color was the blood-red scarf around her throat. She was a beast of prey, and the night was her hunting ground.
Her entrance into the bars and nightclubs of the city was always dramatic, though no one could say precisely why. She dominated any room she was in, but remained aloof from most who tried to speak with her. One man would be favored - for no apparent reason - and they would leave together. Soon, the evening's victim would be found.
Frank Jones was a loser. He hadn't started out that way, but life and his temper had brought him to this state. He had run away from the orphanage at thirteen, and survived on his wits until now. He liked to fight, he liked to drink, and he had been in and out of jail more times than he could remember. He had been living with a cocktail waitress until he had come home a little too drunk and knocked her through the bedroom wall for some unremembered reason. He was at his favorite bar, drinking his whiskey, unknowingly awaiting his date with destiny.
Frank suddenly realized that the bar had grown quiet. He looked up to see a timeless vision of sensuality gazing at him from the door. There was something dangerous about her, something that shouted in his alcohol-fogged brain, vainly trying to get his attention. He only knew that this was the most interesting woman he had ever seen, and his desire to know her increased even as his penis thickened in his pants. His drink forgotten on the bar, Frank Jones rose to meet his fate.
From the moment they left the bar, he never had a chance. The aphrodisiac of her scent (he thought it was perfume) kept his body and mind lustfully occupied. The small liberties she permitted as she drove them to her house were enough to keep him focussed on her, and not the route. As she pulled into a garage, he realized he had no idea where they were. The closing overhead door gave him no clues. His earlier apprehensions began to return, but before he could do more than get out of the car his last opportunity to escape was lost.
Out of the public eye, she no longer needed to maintain her masquerade of humanity. With the strength granted by her trans- formation, she twisted Frank's arms behind his back and propelled him toward the stairs at the side of the garage. She was already beginning to take her sustenance, feeding on his growing fear. He was a strong man, and would last a long time.
Frank's fear grew worse as he realized he was being taken into a specially prepared cellar, with massive soundproof walls, no windows, and many conveniently placed iron rings set into the floor, walls, and ceiling. He experienced a flare of hope when he was released, shoved rudely into the middle of the room. As he got to his feet, she closed and locked the door.
Raging against his treatment, Frank lashed out at her face. His fist was caught and held in her left hand only inches from her eye, while her right snaked out and ripped his shirt from collar to waist. He tried a kick to her stomach, only to lose his boot. She circled his flailing body, stripping his clothes from him until he panted, naked and glaring, in front of her. His anger and fear amused her, arousing her excitement as they fed her need. She licked her lips, considering how best to continue.
Fast as a striking snake, her hand lashed out and captured his balls. He screamed in agony as she increased the pressure, turning his knees to water and eliminating his will to resist. Holding him firmly, she led him to the center of the room and forced him to lock leather cuffs on his wrists and ankles. With an occasional squeeze to enforce her mastery, she instructed him to attach the conveniently placed ropes to the ankle cuffs. The short length of the ropes forced him to spread his legs widely, rendering him even more vulnerable to her whim. Pulling additional ropes down from the ceiling, she completed his capture and soon had him stretched, spread-eagle and helpless.
Her mood then turned playful. She had secured her meal, and there were hours of darkness left. She would amuse herself awhile before dining. Stepping close to her victim, she ran her fingertips lightly over his chest, pulling lightly at his hairi- ness. Taking a nipple between her thumb and forefinger, she squeezed and rolled it about with increasing pressure, noting its erection with pleasure. Frank moaned in his bonds, unable to do anything but react to her manipulations.
Stepping back, she began running her fingers up and down the opening of her jacket, gradually forcing it wider until it framed her breasts. Her nipples were violently erect, straining against the silken shroud of her blouse. Frank was hypnotically enthralled as she discarded the jacket with a twist and a shrug. Her hands continued to torment him as they followed each curve of her body, tracing her small waist and flat stomach, caressing the lower curves of her breasts, and finally covering the straining nipples with a near-savage squeeze. Under those long fingers, the buttons of her blouse yielded one by one until only the tucked-in tails held it together. The scent he had noticed earlier was back, with a stronger, muskier component. Without his awareness he had responded, until his erection threatened to burst through its own skin. He was massively aroused, more so than he had ever been before, his penis standing rigidly upright with his scrotum drawn tightly to its base. He was more than a little uncomfortable, unable to touch or otherwise relieve the growing pressure in his groin.
Laughing at his condition, she continued her tease. The blouse fluttered to the floor, followed by the skirt, leaving her clad in only her scarf, garter belt, stockings, and heels. removing the scarf from her neck, she swayed toward his helpless body, and again began to tease and tickle him. This time she relentlessly brushed her protruding nipples across his chest as her hands glided lightly over his chest, back, and ass. She allowed the scarf to waft lightly over his cock and balls, the whispering touch more maddening than pain. She then wrapped the scarf around the base of his penis, behind the scrotum, and tied it tightly. His cock lurched in its captivity, trying to expand even more as his blood found its return to his body cut off. He was nearly ready - soon she would feed.
She turned away from his helpless eagerness for a moment, moving to a small shelf on the wall. There she picked up the final implement of his doom and began to lubricate it. Although it looked like a large butt plug, it was designed to vibrate at a frequency that would mercilessly stimulate the prostrate and prolong ejaculation. She made no attempt to hide her activity from Frank, relishing his growing horror at the thought of receiving such a device. Taking the lubricant with her, she returned to her prisoner, lightly trailing her fingertips along his hip as she walked behind him. Tied as he was, his only defense was the hysterical tightening of his buttocks. Although she could have easily overcome his poor attempts, she decided it would be more amusing to force his cooperation.
Returning to the wall, she took up a thick leather strap and returned. Standing to the side and slightly to the rear of her target, she swung her first full-armed blow at his cheeks. She continued to slam the strap into his resilient ass until his leaps lost energy and his body hung loose in the ropes. She then found it a simple matter to generously lubricate his asshole and insert the plug. Its shape and the thin straps attached to the base were enough to insure it would not be expelled.
The tight scarf had kept Frank erect through his beating, so he was ready for her further attention as she came around in front of him. The sight of his readiness and the heady proximity of hot blood had aroused her to a fever pitch. Dropping to her knees, she took him deeply into her mouth, forcing his erection deep into her throat until his balls were bumping her chin. The thin, needle-like cilia that lined her throat pierced his rampant cock and began to extract the elixir of her life, even as the contractions of her throat and the vibrations of his anal intruder forced him toward his climax.
Her body spasmed and shuddered in what, in her previous life, would have been a glorious orgasm as she felt his body buck and heave. Whipping the scarf from around his organs, she pressed her fist into the bottom of his crotch, further stimulating his devastating release as she gorged on his fluids. His heart slammed frantically against his ribs as his excitement soared and his blood pressure dropped, until he finally hung limp in his bonds, his waxy body beginning to cool as she reluctantly released his diminished cock.
It had been very good, and she was tired. Later, she would dispose of the body and clean the room for its next "guest". She stretched gloriously as she moved languidly toward the door and her rest. When the sun faded again she would rouse, but for now...
She felt good.