by Darque Star

Get ready to embark on an extraordinary voyage infused with romance, adventure, and captivating narratives. We are delighted to present to you a compilation of stories that will transport you to enchanting destinations, immersing you in the realm of love and travel.

Within this series, you will discover the crème de la crème, the finest works from the Love Lust or Bust Dating and Travel short story contest.

These remarkable tales have been meticulously chosen from a pool of gifted writers who poured their passion and creativity into crafting narratives that whisk you away to far-flung corners of the globe.

As you delve into this collection, you will encounter vibrant characters, diverse cultures, and awe-inspiring landscapes that form the backdrop for unforgettable love stories. Each narrative possesses its own distinctive allure, providing profound insights into the intricacies of dating in unfamiliar territories, the exhilaration of spontaneous encounters, and the transformative magic of travel.

Join us in celebrating the literary brilliance of the top 20 winners of the contest. Allow their words to sweep you off your feet and transport you to a realm where love and adventure intertwine in the most exquisite and profound ways. Prepare yourself for a literary expedition that will linger in your heart and mind, and hopefully will inspire you to be open and courageous to go on your own journey.

Today, we are thrilled to bring you this intriguing story below. Enjoy, and please leave your thoughts in the comment section below.

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by D’sar Darkstar

Traveling.

 It’s something we do for change and to escape the doldrums of regular everyday life. We seek relaxation, a change of scenery, a different room and bed to dwell in… and sometimes we seek adventure.

Not always is adventure what others think. Some will go camping in the wild or go hit white water rapids or go mountain climbing. Why? Because it’s there. Maybe they seek a cruise be it classy or campy like those big ones with the huge water slides like amusement parks on water. 

Some of us want intrigue, romance, or both. We want excitement. We want to live an epic life. That’s not always what the travel agent can guarantee you, but they’ll try and sell you on it. Then it eventually comes down to where you go and whom you visit. 

Travelers live to chronicle their trips, where they’ve been, what they saw, and hopefully whom they’ve met in their travels. Especially in the digital age where we think we’re all news reporters. 

Me? I personally love to be the one you want to meet. I want to be the attraction. I want to be the living roller coaster of action and adventure. I want to be the one experience we all want when we travel. The one that’s not a destination, however, but more of one of the highlights of the trip. 

To be more than just a mere travel guide, even more than the life of the party, I see myself as more your… Memnoch, the Devil. Your trail down the dark seedy pathways. Your Cheshire cat to your Alice falling down the rabbit hole of the underworld. Your Lucifer Morningstar seductively compelling you to tell me, “What it is you desire?” 

My self-proclaimed “job “, so to speak, is to make sure you find your way to decadence and debauchery and with that sentiment, you’ll find me in the lower parts of the city, clad and shrouded, adorned in black leather, chains and long draped cloaks like a modern-day vampire.

My vict…uh, I mean traveler? I remember her well. She came in from the North but so many states away. Rhodes Island I think. She came on a whim of escapism, sick of her former life as a school-teaching housewife. We had connected on Love at AOL which eventually was a merger with match.com. Chatting online in the early days of social media was far more intriguing than the mere swipe left or swipe right of the online meat market hookups we know today in online dating. Nay, this was just a few years post the death of video dating. It was new and Avant-garde.

The first time we’d met seemed of chance. I didn’t know she’d be arriving at my usual den of iniquity, especially that night. It wasn’t planned as I recall it, and yet although the first contact was pleasant, I could see I had already overwhelmed her even in a communion I personally found quite pedestrian. Though our first actual contact was unexpected I intended our second outing to be far more intriguing… this time with a plan. 

Let me explain how I work. Everything I do is calculated quickly in my mind. I never let anyone see me sweat or panic. I told this suburban school marm that for this excursion when in doubt, wear black. All she had was some form of black evening gown and high-heeled sandals as I recall. It was simple to wear but not as difficult as the nervous sheepish grin she wore on her face, embracing the darkness she was about to dive headfirst into. 

I was draped in my signature long black duster, billowing black shirt, tight black pants, tall boots, and bondage belts, along with a large bat pendant about my neck as a symbol of my esthetic to be a creature of the night. On my neck was a collar made of chain mail and matching fingerless gauntlets on my hands.

 I whisked her into my black Nissan Z sports car and rocketed us into Manhattan with every devilish attempt to bring forth debauchery, blasting the heart-pounding bass of the gothic music song, “This Corrosion”  by the Sisters of Mercy as my speeding theme on the CD player. I watched her right hand tighten on the inner door handle, while her eyes closed as she tilted back her head allowing her hair to blow in the rushing wind of the open T-Top roof as we darted in and out of traffic with each high-velocity shift of the gears, all the while she was surrendering to her experience and I lavished it. 

 We stopped to walk the streets of Gotham for a bit after parking as we were coming closer to our sinful destination.  I bought her a large silver-colored metal ankh from a local shop to wear about her neck to give her somewhat of a vampiric gothic aesthetic to help her feel like she was fitting into the atmosphere. It was a symbol of her new romp into the underbelly of eternal life. 

When we walked to our destination it was a far more upscale BDSM party than the seedy one we met at the night before. This one was a fantasy dungeon by day and tonight it was a nightclub of dark sin and skin. I’m a believer in moments and this night was to be full of them. 

Upon arriving upstairs the elevator doors opened and we walked into a labyrinth reminiscent of a haunted house only with clean walls and floors of a freshly opened den of iniquity. I watched her eyes take in everything with the wonder of a child. 

As we walked the dark fabric-draped halls, she witnessed chained female slave girls dancing in hanging cages, men on their knees lavishly and lovingly licking the shiny spiked heeled stiletto boots of beautifully black-clad Dominas that looked like vampires themselves, slaves in stocks being flogged with cat o’ nine tails and loving every second of each endorphin inducing blow. 

I found a dominatrix friend there and after introductions, I asked if she could keep my new friend company while I excused myself to the men’s room. It was there my shock and awe would continue with every intent to overwhelm and push boundaries. I returned with my cloak on yet my shirt and trousers were missing. Only my over-the-knee boots and a leather G-string remained. These were the days I was still bouncing between being dominant and submissive and I was in the mood to just be a naughty vampiric slut. 

When I returned I stopped and laid my nearly nude body at the feet of my leather-clad lady friend and my shocked guest as if to offer myself a fleshy footrest. We hung out like this, talking casually as I pushed the shock factor up to 11. She barely understood what was going on and that was my intention. It aroused me as my leather thong could barely keep me contained so dangerously close to her sharp nervous shaking high heeled foot.

After enough mental torture and teasing…I decided to walk her around for more of the guided tour before a slave auction was to begin. 

We stopped to greet a friend of mine named Big Bruce who was nearly 7 feet tall and a known bouncer. He had a woman with her head in a stockade and we took turns giving her the pleasure of pain in the most creative way with a fun new game similar to pin the tail on the donkey only in this instance it was large 5 inches by 1-inch rubber bands that we would pull back, snap and shoot at her exposed naked rump. Honestly, it was hilarious and we all laughed… even his willing captive. 

We continued watching slaves in cages, people being auctioned off as meat servants, stopped to eat pastries and fruits of a naked female human buffet table, watched as Wartenberg wheels (think hand-held handled sharpened spiked spurs) and hot candle wax were used on haphazard submissives all the while listening to their moans, cries, screams, and squeals of delight and delicious endorphin rushes.

As the night was getting on it was time to not only redress me but to get her back to where she was staying. We talked about what she had seen and experienced. Did I expect revulsion? Possibly… but no. I saw her reactions during the evening with every button and envelope I intentionally pushed and I could tell this country mouse was indoctrinated into the underworld and would be forever changed in this travel trip. She had succumbed to my darkness and was one of us now. A newly fledged Gothamite. 

That’s my idea of a fun first “date” for a wayward traveler. 

To read more about the contest, click here.

To read the other stories, click here.

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