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by Jonathan Amsbary
Description: David is a computer geek and spends most of his time on-line in Dominance and Submissive (D/s) chat rooms. David is submissive and looking for a Mistress to dominate him. What David finds instead is a vampire.
eBook Publisher: ebooksonthe.net/ebooksonthe.net, 2000 ebook
eBookwise Release Date: February 2007
7 Reader Ratings:
Available eBook Formats: OEBFF Format (IMP) [307 KB]
Reading time: 195-273 min.
David plopped into his computer station because he knew it would be hours before he could sleep. Alcohol usually kept him awake and the cold and pain was adding to the effect. He'd get online and chat for a while, that would calm him down, and maybe he could get some sleep tonight.
He sat quietly with his eyes closed as the machine hummed to life. He waited for the operating system to boot and then moused his way into his Internet connection and then the chat server. He typed the login and password commands and then waited for the Java script to run. All in all the whole process took about three minutes--it felt like three days. While he was waiting he wondered to himself who would be on tonight. He was pretty good at guessing.
The scroll was flying by fast and furious and it hurt his eyes for a second.
David stared at his computer screen waiting for the next instant message to arrive on the chat screen.
--Mistress of Darkwinds--Looks down at her little footstool and gently caresses his back with her heel.
--Sub-Thrall--Imperceptibly coos with pleasure a slight smile stealing across his lips--Mistress of Darkwinds--: Digs her heel into her footstool. "Now behave little boy, you don't want Mistress to punish you? Do you?"
A smile played across David's face as he entered the last command. He was finally getting somewhere with Darkwinds. He had played her for weeks and she was good. He had almost all the other Domme in the Chateau eating out of his hands. She was one of the last holdouts. They had chatted cordially since he'd come online a year ago, but he never really felt that she liked him very much. Somehow she didn't seem to approve of him. Of course, that made her the prize of prizes.
--Mistress of Darkwinds--: Reaches down with her crop and lightly caresses her tender boy behind his ear. "Of course you don't."
"Bitch." David hissed under his breath as he considered his next post. His skin was on fire and, as always he truly felt the kiss of the crop. He had felt more pain from others. He was often reduced to tears by his virtual punishments but the release was transcendental. He had often tried to explain it all to his everyday friends but they never got it.
"Oh well, to hell with them." he thought before he could type in his next command.
--Mistress of Darkwinds--Kicks her little subbie. "What's the matter boy? Cat got your tongue? I have a cat, and it bites. But you know that, don't you? Would you like to meet my cat little boy?"
"Yes." he hissed aloud.
He considered his next play. It often didn't pay to seem eager, but if he seemed indifferent she might leave him. God, how he wanted her. As David considered his next move an insistent pounding on the door interrupted his thoughts.
"Open up Motherfucker!"
The baritone voice belonged to his best friend Patrick Dane. David knew Pat wouldn't give up--Sub-Thrall--"Need to go Ma'am." He typed frantically.
"Just a minute Asshole!" David screamed, his voice cracking in excitement and anger. "Why now, dear God. Why now?"
--Mistress of Darkwinds--: "Whatever." ~yawning with boredom~
"Shit!" he yelled at the monitor. "Now she's pissed!"
Running to the door he yanked it open and saw Pat's grinning face.
"Weekend bro! Time for some beer, and when that runs out some more beer!"
"Goddamn it! Pat, did you ever think of calling before coming over?" * * * *
"Did, but your phone's busy, like always. Now go tell your make-believe fiends goodbye and come get shit-faced with your best friend. You know something? Sometimes I don't know why I bother with you."
"Because you don't have any friends except me."
"Not true mon amie, I have lots of friends. Joanne, Samantha, Wayne, a whole bunch."
"Those are my friends stupid. Now sit down on the couch and give me a minute."
He rushed back to the computer as he heard Pat click the TV to the Cartoon Channel.
God how typical! David thought. I hope his mom has a comfortable basement, for when this dweeb graduates. Who am I kidding, he's not graduating. Stop arguing with yourself idiot and get back to Darkwinds. This is going to take some finesse.
David sat in front of the computer and scanned the chatter's list. He was crestfallen when he saw that Darkwinds had left the room. He tried a private message but the system reported that no Mistress-of-Darkwinds was currently online. Damn! he thought, "She logged off! Oh well, everyone has a real life, how mad can she be? How mad can she be? Very,very mad!'
--Sub thrall--Bows to all Domme and bids his friends good night.
A string of "Be wells" and "hugs and kisses" scrolled down the screen as he prepared to log off. Thrall was very popular and everyone liked him, well almost everyone. He smiled at the string of well wishes. He really loved these people. He closed his browser and started moving his cursor to the Start button to shut off the computer.
"Oh hell. Fuck Bill Gates," he muttered to himself and shut off the power with a snap of the power button without powering the operating system down.
He stretched long and looked back into the living room and saw Pat laughing at the cartoons. He started to rise and his knee buckled.
"Damn!" He hadn't used the cane when he ran to let Pat in. Tears of frustration, anger and pain rolled down his cheeks. He had known this pain all his life.
"Stupid fool! Stupid fool! How could I be so stupid? I have to live my life with a bad leg and now I'm brain damaged to boot!"
He knew that his leg was going to throb for days now. He hobbled on his cane into the living room.
Pat's grin suddenly melted as he saw his best friend's pain and he started to rise to help him.
David waved him off. "You know Pat, when you're right, you're right. We need beer, beer and more beer after that."
With that, the two friends shambled out into the waiting night. David's apartment was centrally located. He hated driving and he couldn't walk very far at a stretch. The night was wet and cool--what he called a soft night--very common in Southern Indiana in early winter. A few degrees cooler and his knee would be stiff as a board, but for some reason, this was an ideal condition for him and his pace quickened as they worked their way to Nick's.
There were a couple of sacred cows in Bloomington Indiana. One was the Little Five-Hundred Bicycle Race and another was Nick's.
It was a rather ordinary bar, but the quintessential hang out for student's who were old enough to drink. Bloomington was a tough town. If you were underaged, you could get a drink, but you weren't likely to get it in a bar. Like any college town, there were dance bars, gay bars, frat bars, townie bars, pool halls and pick-up bars. Nick's was none of these.
Nick's was the bar. Everyone paid homage to Nick's at one point or another. The front room had the small bar and grill, tightly packed booths where the service was surly and most of the law students drank. David said they were so abused by their professors all day they didn't realize how mean the waitresses at Nick's were. Pat said the law kids were in training to suck up to their future bosses.
The cool people headed for the small loft upstairs. Cool was not a word that normal people would use to describe these patrons, but in Bloomington they were very cool. They were mostly professional students and ageless dropouts who were caught in the web of the small college town and never left. One of them even ran for mayor on a bet and won. He ran his administration from Nick's loft.
Nick's back room was composed of chaotically arranged tables and shabby booths. Grad students and most of the fun patrons hung out in the back, mainly because the video games and pinball machines were there. It was Friday and the joint was packed.
Pat and David made their way to the back and found the gang, namely Wayne, the musician; Steve, the dropout; Samantha, the nurturer; and Julie, the encyclopedia. Cyber-Dave was the computer wiz. Pat was the geek, which was saying something in this crowd.
Actually they were all geeks. Each possessed of extraordinary intelligence but physically or socially flawed in ways that caused more narcissistic youths to shun them. One might suspect that they would one day become popular, because adults value intelligence while physical beauty and wit are the currency of young.
Wayne was sitting in David's chair. He got up without a word. David always sat in the corner, where he could hang his leg out without fear of tripping the waitress or one of the drunken grad students. He settled in and hung his cane on the back of his chair. He often wondered about the moment of fate that had twisted his life so much. A second earlier or later and that accident would have happened to someone else, or not at all. But not to his entire family.
He was the only survivor of the tragic accident. He was raised from a young age by his father's sister and her family. He was cared for. He never wanted for any physical need. He only missed love. His leg kept him out of physical education classes, Boy Scouts, summer camp, and life in general. His trust and insurance settlement set him up for life, but he always wondered what that life was worth anymore. But then, he had his friends, both physical and in cyber. He knew he was lucky in his friendships because they loved him for who he was, not what he looked like or couldn't do.
On this night he was finding it hard to concentrate. Darkwinds had really thrown him off his game. It would take weeks, a virtual eternity in chat, to get back to where he was. How would he play it? Cool and polite, or submissive and groveling? It was hard to tell with her. She was so chaotic about who she would choose, sometimes picking the correct well-trained submissives, but often choosing the aggressive bad boys who needed punishing. It would take some thought.
"David! Are you paying attention?"
Julie of the harsh, angular face was shouting. "I asked you a question!"
"Sorry, I have things on my mind."
"Damn make-believe friends on your mind more likely." Pat griped.
"When are you going to give that shit up and start paying attention to your real friends?" Julie pressed. * * * *
"Look, they are real people. They 're just as much flesh and blood as any of you. We share an interest. That's all. I don't expect any of you to understand. But I thought you guys would at least be happy that I'm happy."
He almost said "getting laid regularly," but they would never understand that. When he finally confessed his submissive sexual nature to all of them, they didn't understood that either. They didn't understand where he acted these fantasies out. Damn, didn't they know if he could find a real-life Mistress he would go with her and screw the Internet. That one of the things he was looking for in chat ... to meet a real Domme woman. It was risky doing that. Most relationships that began in chat failed. But he was smart and he watched his friends, learned from their failures and successes. He thought he could make a real-life connection work if he ever had one.
There was an awkward pause which Julie finally filled. "David, we are happy for you, and yes we should respect what you do. But it just feels like we have to fight for your time now. If you had a real-life girl friend we could meet her and still be with you. David, we miss you."
She was close to tears and Samantha silently reached over and patted her knee, which caused her to smile wanly.
Samantha and Julie were a couple. They were an odd couple, to say the least. Julie was tall and rail-thin while Samantha was short and fat. They had met David in a 'Sociology of Sex' class two years before. They thought he was tres cute, and adopted him immediately. He was smart and open, which they both loved, and he had a need to be mothered, which they both responded to, although neither would admit to it. He could bring either of them to helpless laughter or tears in seconds.
In fact, it was David who really brought the gang together. He had brought each of the members into the group and it was a little frightening to them all that he was now withdrawing.
"Sally bring another pitcher please!" Wayne yelled across the room. "David's paying for it." Wayne hated conflict and overly emotional scenes. He basically didn't understand feelings and used humor to deflect people. David had heard him play, the flute of all things, and could not understand how Wayne could make such beautiful music without having a clue about human feelings.
"Yeah, I got it." David said quietly. He shook off the mood and leaned over and kissed Julie on her cheek. "I'm sorry Love, I've been a shit, I promise to do better."
Julie turned her smile to him and searched his eyes, hoping upon hope that he was telling the truth to her and to himself.
David and Pat struggled home. It had gotten a lot colder, and David's leg was hurting like hell. Pat was very drunk and was having a hard time walking. David, while not as drunk, was barely able to move himself along because of his knee. The two made quite a pair, and David muttered something about the "blind leading the blind" at one point. The cold air and his growing anger kept him moving quickly. The same could not be said for Pat. * * * *
When they finally stumbled into the apartment, David's mood went from bad to worse to hideous. David was notorious for his bad moods, and this one was a dilly. Pat, if he were able, would have given it a name, he was up to "M" and said the next one would be called "Bad Mood Mabel." David smiled in spite of himself. This is why he loved Pat so much. Pat was immune to his anger. Pat's humor had often rescued him from the pits of despair, and even the thought of what Pat would say was even now working it's magic.
Pat smiled when the warm air of the apartment struck him and then collapsed on the couch.
"Don't throw up asshole." David said to his comatose friend, and hobbled into the kitchen. His knee was throbbing and he considered taking a pain pill, but he'd had too much to drink. Even if he felt sober, he knew he wasn't, and that the pills could hurt him badly. He had his stomach pumped before, and he planned never to suffer that indignity again. He settled for a glass of milk instead. * * * *
He plopped into his computer station. It would be hours before he could sleep. Alcohol usually kept him awake and the cold and pain were adding to the effect. He'd get online and chat for a while. That would calm him down, and maybe he could get some sleep later.
He sat quietly with his eyes closed as the machine hummed to life. He waited for the operating system to boot and then moused his way into his Internet connection and then the chat server. He typed the login and password commands and then waited for the Java script to run. All in all the whole process took about three minutes--it felt like three days. While he was waiting he wondered to himself who would be online tonight. He was pretty good at guessing. The chat rooms had a rhythm. Some people were only on in the morning or afternoon, daytimers, whose moods reflected the time of day; bright and chipper. Some came on only in the evening. They gave the feeling of being in a club or bar. Then there were the nighttimers. Between midnight and about six or seven--depending on the time zone--the chat rooms were dominated by hard core chatters and insomniacs. The mood was dark and tempers flared easily. * * * *
The chat rooms were not used exclusively by Americans, but they dominated. They were followed closely by Canadians, then Brits, then Aussies, then the non-English speakers (who often had better English spelling and grammar than the natives.) But the rooms followed the sun as Americans saw it. David often wondered if his Aussie friends thought everyone in America was depressed and mean because that was who was up and chatting when they were online.
He checked the friends list, and was happy to see his friend Mistress-Dove was on. He liked her a lot, and she liked him back. They often chatted about non-bdsm stuff. And he thought she was sexy as hell. She had told him the same, and she usually was up for a good cyber romp. He typed "/goto Mistress-Dove" and was instantly transported to the "Bondage Chateau"
The scroll was flying by fast and furious and it hurt his eyes for a second.
--Sub-Thrall--Bows to all who are Worthy and waves to his friends.
The standard greeting would get everyone's attention and announce him as a submissive to the room. A string of welcomes, greetings and good evenings rolled down the screen. His buddy, Sub-Flame was online, and he thought he might entice her into some vanilla action if neither of them could get anything going with a Domme.
--Sub-Thrall--Makes his way to the subbie couch and huggles his delicious friend Flame, groping where he can.
--Sub-Flame--Giggles and gropes Thrall--wooo hoooo!
--Mistress-Dove--smiles as she sees the handsome Thrall enter the room and play with his subblings.
Good, she noticed him, and was not with anyone right now. "Mr. Scott, I need warp speed and I need it now." He muttered to himself.
--Sub-Thrall--Greets Mistress Dove and bows before her once more.
Though he had technically bowed to her when he entered, the extra was a nice touch that let her know he was interested.
--Mistress-Dove--Smiles to Thrall and thanks him. "I am well little one. It is nice of you to care. And you are well little Thrall?"
--Sub-Thrall--"Could not be better, especially seeing you tonight."
--Mistress-Dove--"I couldn't sleep tonight. Felt a pull to get me online. Now I know why ~smiles~ Please come sit at my feet little one."
--Sub-Flame--Woo-hoos for Thrall--Sub-Thrall--Sticks his tongue out at Flame then runs and kneels at Mistress-Dove's feet, back straight and head held high, eyes downcast.
--Mistress Dove--Smiles at her little one and pulls him into her warm lap--Sub-Thrall--cozies down into her lap and smiles with great pleasure.
The conversation scrolled on, Dove had been in some discussion with a Domme friend of hers and went back to it. Though she tossed in many tickles Thrall, cuddles Thrall or lightly kisses Thrall lines to let him know she was really thinking of him.
He responded in kind, occasionally waving to an entering friend, laughing at some antic of another sub or sending a more risque message to Dove in private.