Sacrifice Read Online Free Page B

time, she was there to participate. It was Sunday, and the leather-whipped crowd took over the club and acted like it was a Friday. They even staged a mini bondage demonstration on the upstairs level. The perfect spot for the man she needed to find, to begin her Calling.
    She had read the passages over and over again. The ancient book was very explicit, but also very convoluted, its diction archaic and at times confusing. She wanted to get it right. There were incantations to say, and rituals to perform. Done out of sequence and the Calling wouldn’t be heard.
    And so, after sitting at her kitchen table and reading the chapter on Calling a dozen times, Ariana had slipped out of her business clothes from another stale day at the bank, meticulously smoothing and hanging her blouse and skirt in the closet. And then, still clad in a black silk panty and bra set, she had reached into the back of her wardrobe, behind the camisoles and fluffy white blouses and conservative black and cream-colored jackets, and pulled out her tight black leather pants. They didn’t come out often, and she worried that she might no longer be able to squeeze her thighs into them. But she needn’t have worried. Ariana easily slipped one long calf into the long hole of a pant leg, and then stepped in with the other, shimmying the pants up high and tight around her pelvis, until she could barely breathe. Then she pulled a filmy black mesh shirt from the same hidden spot in the back of her closet, and pulled it over the curve of her black bra. The lace edging of the bra remained easily visible, but still somewhat obscured by the crisscross holes of the cotton top, and she nodded at the revealing, teasing effect in the mirror. Reaching into a drawer by her bed, she pulled out a silver-studded black leather collar, and matching wristbands.
    From her dresser, she retrieved and draped a silver cross on a black string over her head, and then poked in a pair of skull earrings. She stopped in the bathroom on the way downstairs, and pulled a razor blade from between the Tylenol and the decongestant bottles. Slipping it into the zipped pocket of her leather pants, Ariana slid into the backseat of the waiting cab.
    “Clubbing to night?” the cabbie observed, and she didn’t deign to answer.
    “Cat Club,” she said. “On Folsom.”
    He took the hint, and didn’t make further conversation, so she gave him a $3 tip when they got to the curb of the club.
    The black lights made the white of her skin look blue, and Ariana danced in the half-empty center of the club’s downstairs, waiting patiently for the space to fill with more freakily garbed frolickers before she made her way up the dark stairs, into the bondage half of the evening. A gay boy in tight leather, waist chain and a mesh top gyrated wildly in one of the cages suspended 10 feet above the black paint of the converted warehouse dance floor. Across the other side of the space, two blondes in raven leather minis and matching bras did the shimmy and dip with each other in the second cage. You could almost taste the cherry of their lipstick.
    Ariana stayed on the floor, quietly swirling and twisting to the gloomy sounds of The Cure and the industrial pound of Skinny Puppy. When the DJ announced the start of the fetish parade upstairs, Ariana blended into the crowd heading upwards, and then picked her spot at the side of the small stage. She watched as a brunette in a red mini and fishnet stockings bent over and exposed a wide, white ass to the crowd, while a dominatrix in knee-high black boots and a latex bodysuit twirled the strands of a spanking flail, and then proceeded to smack the brunette in smooth circular motions across her exposed behind. The woman grunted and called out at each slap, but when she turned her face towards the crowd, it was with a slack expression of ecstasy.
    Ariana stepped away to order a coke at the bar and returned to watch a buff boy in a ripped T-shirt bend over for a workout