Sam raised a brow at the neon sign flickering at him above, looking back at the scrap of paper in his hand to make sure it was the right place. Even from out here the young man could hear the electronic rhythms pounding on the inside, no question it was a club but it was a question of it being THE club. With a name like The Scorched Earth, the man hadn't exactly known what he had been expecting. The place looked rundown even by the standards of this side of the city, half the sign was dark while the other half flickered and the brick and stone looked crumbled where it wasn't covered in faded graffiti.

The sign depicted a volcano next to the flickering letters, though there was no lava spewing out of that thing anytime soon. After the meeting last night Razor had given him the paper and recommended he go there to get his head cleared. At the time he had snorted and rolled his eyes but yet here he was standing outside of the club. Sam had been in and out of his share of clubs in his young life however this one certainly screamed, 'place to get mugged outside' more than most others he'd visited.

Sam pulled his coat up closer to him, the collar obscuring most of the lower half of his face from the sides. His concealed pistol was tucked neatly away within though he doubted this place was the type to stop him at the door for carrying. Sure enough, the rather intimidating looking troll on duty as bouncer was leaning against the wall next to the doors and not seeming to care over who went in. Perhaps that was why Razor had recommended the place, for that certain element of danger Sam craved so much.

The young man stepped inside and was assaulted by the loud electronic rhythms blasting throughout the club. Just glancing around he could see it was a popular stop for all types, gangers or wageslaves, poor or rich, hunters and hunted. Metahumans and humans alike convulsed to the beat of the music or sat at the bar or the booths at the sides. Sam himself settled for the bar, figuring it best to get a bit of drinking out of his system.

It was during his beeline to the bar that he noticed out of the corner of his eyes a couple of gangers beating the daylights out of some poor bastard for whatever reason. No one lifted a finger or turned an eye towards it. Sam felt his heart start pumping as his eyes glanced around in cautions. Everyone and anyone could be a threat in a place like this. Some drunk wageslaves looking to take their anger out, a couple of gangers feeling slighted, or some boyfriend who though he saw someone chatting up his girl. It was thrilling, providing just that extra bit of adrenaline to set his blood pumping.

Sam sat down on an open stool between a man practically sleeping in his drink and an elf woman. It took a moment to catch the bartender's attention, a mountain of meat that was human despite appearances. "What're ya drinking?"

"Whiskey, no ice." Sam said, forcing a calm exterior as Razor's lessons took over.

Keep calm, that was what everything the elf had told him boiled down to. Keep a level head and think before you act. It was never easy. Sam was not the type to remain calm, he liked action, he liked violence, he liked that rush that coursed through his veins like it was here. A tiny smile graced his lips as his drink was delivered to him. Razor knew all of that and that was why he was sent here. Sam had to give it to the elf once again; he knew how to manipulate people without most knowing they were being manipulated. He should have taken a corporate job rather than run around in the shadows.

Sam sat there and nursed his drink, turning around a bit and opted to people watch. He marked up the more dangerous elements and what areas to avoid, creating a mental map of the place. Curiously there was no one gang that ruled the place; rather it appeared to be a sort of mecca were a number of gangs met. It was an oddity. Sam imagined the place erupted into violence more often than not but right now it seemed as though there was some unspoken truce in the air. There were plenty of drunks of course. No end to addicts either, meeting dealers here to get their fix.

Sam licked his lips and took another drink, allowing the liquid fire to travel down his throat and warm his belly. It made him more alert, the burning, sharpening his senses nicely. He couldn't drink too much here tonight as having his senses dulled here might very well spell disaster. The man on his right clearly had opted on the side of not caring and would likely wake up a little lighter in his pockets. That wasn't the young man's problem of course.

"Nice place isn't it? Just that right bit of danger."

The voice was lyrical and smooth like honey, almost unnatural to Sam's ears. He turned to his left and noted the elf woman was also staring out away from the bar, viewing the sea of bodies beyond the island. She was, as most elves were, drop dead gorgeous. Her form was slim and filled out her blue dress nicely, smooth creamy skin utterly unblemished by scars or cyberware. Her nails were well manicured and painted blue, her blue heels looking rather cheap as did most of her clothing. Nothing a standard party girl couldn't afford. Her dark hair was as silky as Razor's if not more and was styled and cut just below the shoulder.

It was her blue eyes, however, that convinced Sam there was more to this woman than met the eye. They were cold, calculating, and dangerous. They sent his adrenaline flowing freely and his heart pumping loudly. He managed to keep his cool though he certainly did not drop his guard.

"Just found out about it tonight. Friend of mine knew I enjoyed a bit of danger." Sam said, turning his gaze back to the dance floor.

"Yet you are here rather than out on the dance floor. Isn't that where the real danger is?" The elf said, leaning back against the bar.

Sam smirked at that. "I like danger but seems to me I get plenty sitting on the fringes. Especially if more people like you are here."

The elf granted him a sideways glance, her lips turning upwards into a smirk of her own. "Dangerous? Me? What makes you think that?" She purred.

"My friend taught me a lot of things. One of which is that more often than not the more dangerous people often try to look non-threatening." Sam replied.

"Smart friend. Does he have a name?"

"Sure. I'd rather you ask me mine though." The shadowrunner said, enjoying this little exchange more than he had expected.

The elven woman chuckled, a beautiful sound that would send most men's hearts soaring with affection. Sam just felt a little bit more on edge, the amusement being most likely not the light hearted kind. Something about her sent his teeth on edge, a natural glamor about her that send shivers down his spine. It wasn't magic exactly though he would not have been surprised to find out she was a mage of some kind. It was a natural aura of presence that made one wonder why they had not noticed her sooner.

"Buy me a drink, then you can tell me your name." She said, the natural air of command around her almost oppressive.

"What are you drinking?"

"Whatever you are, human."

Sam considered terminating the conversation here and getting out of the club. The elf was giving off vibes that screamed danger to him, like a spider enticing its prey into a web. Every sense he'd honed on the streets was telling him to leave but his blood was pumping and his curiosity was piqued. At her behest he ordered her a whiskey and watched her carefully as she drank down the burning liquid. Not one grimace as the fire traveled down her slim throat, not one flinch.

"Samuel. Pleased to meet you, miss...?" The man said.

"Lyria. Whiskey... it has been a while since I last had it. It has a certain kick to it. I myself prefer wine." The elf stated.

"Tell me then, Lyria. What brings a woman like you here? Just the danger?" Sam asked.

Lyria stared at the brown liquid in her glass for a long moment, her smirk never leaving her lips. "Do you see all of junkies around this place? All of the alcoholics? What is one quality they seem to lack? Control. Power over their own destiny. They are subservient to the whims of their addiction, feeding it and feeding it until they are consumed by it. I look upon them, upon the gangers and scum, the wageslaves and the addicts and pick one. I talk, I interact, I get them to do things for me. Buy me a drink. Dance with me. Simple things. Then I get them to take me home and there I take over for the addiction or whatever controlled them once before. I show them how utterly weak they are, how powerless, I pick them apart and I make them beg for me to make them weaker still."

Sam swallowed hard before forcing his gaze from the elven woman. His heartbeat pounded like a wardrum and he could feel the rush deepen. A haze fell over his mind as he was drunk upon the adrenaline. The woman sitting next to him was a predator in the clothing of prey. Intelligent and a being that desired control. Domineering one might say. She gave others their rush and got a rush of her own in return. Sam understood what it was she wanted all too well, power and control just as he desired danger and excitement. He knew why she told him of course; the elf already had her hooks in him and was promising him exactly what he wanted.

"So. How would you pick me apart?" Sam inquired.

Lyria smiled at him. "Dance with me and find out."

_______________________________________________________________________

The events of the club were a whirl of events after that request and the next thing Sam was aware of was vaguely walking into his coffin apartment. The room was as tiny as they came, ten foot by ten foot with a locker shoved aside for his belongings and a bed stuffed into the corner. The space was dirty and in ill repair as was expected of a place like this. Sam hardly cared as it was a place to rest his head and that was all he needed. Now... it served a different purpose.

Lyria. Lyria was with him here, that was right. He had taken her back here upon her request. No. That wasn't right. It hadn't been a request but more of a command. Even now she looked around the apartment not in disgust but as a conqueror might their new domain. Sam felt his unease return though this time it was accompanied by arousal. This woman was certainly something else and somewhere in the back of his mind he made a note to thank Razor for the directions to the club.

"Take your things out of your locker then go sit on the bed." The elf commanded.

Another power play and one Sam entertained, removing the few items within and placing them on the floor next to it. Lyria then removed her coat and placed it inside, slowly removing her other clothes as well to join it. Sam watched her carefully, memorizing the dips and curves of the elf as he waited with baited breath. It was not simply the desire for sex that drove him to do as she said but more curiosity. What trick could she have up her sleeve that could push him further and further over the edge? He already felt a rush being near her but this... the suspense was killing him.

When she was finished putting away her clothes the naked elf approached the bed, her posture no less commanding or regal for her nudity. If anything it was increased. The woman placed her hands on his chest as she started to kneel down without a word, her expression neutral as her fingers snaked their way inside his coat. Sam closed his eyes briefly as he allowed himself to enjoy the sensation, before a new sensation replaced it.

Cool metal was placed under his chin and it took but a slight glimpse for Sam to realize it was his concealed pistol. The sound of a bullet being pushed into the chamber sent his heartrate thundering in his skull as fear spiked through his veins. Lyria smirked as she held the weapon to Sam, the ease in her posture almost frightening in itself. The shadowrunner swallowed hard as he realized intangible danger had left and real danger had taken its place.

"Mmm... here's the game tonight. Do everything I say, everything no matter how degrading or humiliating, and you live. Disobey and I'll kill you. Nod if you understand, Sammy." The elf purred.

Sam nodded, not daring to speak lest his voice betray his fear. A game such as this was certainly new to him, producing a rush unlike any other along with quite a bit of arousal. Even with all of this he held the thought in the back of his mind that he probably wouldn't be killed no matter what way the wind blew. However there was always a doubt and that doubt was where excitement was drawn from most.

"Get off the bed and kneel in front of me." Lyria commanded.

Sam did so with little hesitation as self-preservation instincts began to rear their head. His eyes trailed the elf's smooth and long legs, pausing slightly over the space between her legs and the little tuft of black hair there. From there he looked over her stomach and up at the swells of her breasts. The gun was held to his forehead now though he noted that her finger was on the outside of the trigger. Smart move to avoid a little accident.

"Bend down and kiss my toes. Don't stop until I say so." She instructed.

Sam swallowed slight, hesitating ever so before bending over towards her immaculate and slender feet. Her nails gleamed a sapphire blue when they caught the light and as he moved closer her could smell a fragrance of some scented shampoo. Fruity really though the exact kind escaped his definition. He had no doubt the gun was still trained upon him up above so without further hesitation he got to work.

His lips found the big toe of her right foot, peppering the digit with adoration and affection. Her toes wriggled slightly at the contact which caused him to smile ever so, even with all her control her body still betrayed itself in ways everyone felt. Sam showered her toes with kissed, almost swearing he could taste the fruity scent upon his lips. He felt his arousal straining against the fabric of his pants but he pushed it aside. He kissed and even briefly allowed his tongue to peak out from his mouth to lightly lap at her, his heart pounding as he worked.

"Enough. Sit up." The elf commanded, her tone not indicating pleasure or disapproval.

She suddenly slapped him with her free hand; the sting lingering long after her hand was gone. "Thank me." She said.

Sam looked up into those cold blue eyes and the gun poised over his forehead, the slap sharpening his senses with pain. "Thank you." He said, his own eyes betraying naked lust.

The elf held the gun in her hands up to Sam's lips, her own curling up into a smirk. "Kiss it."

The shadowrunner hesitated only a moment before pressing his lips to the cool metal of his gun, shivering slightly from the contact. He knew quite well that with but a movement of Lyria's fingers he could very easily be choking on his own blood, however that thought only pushed him on to kiss the weapon more passionately. Sam knew it was probably more than a bit fucked up but right now he was more aroused than he could ever recall being. His life rested in the hands on another, one wrong move and she might just snuff it out.

"Enough. Strip then lay out on the bed." Lyria commanded, standing and gesturing to the bed.

With but a quick glance Sam could see her drooling lower lips, her own arousal showing quite clearly. The young man quickly set about removing his clothes, resisting the urge to tear them off but only just. With that done he laid out upon the bed, staring at the elven goddess as she moved to mount him in a single graceful motion. His throbbing arousal pressed up against her own and he managed a slight groan when the pistol was placed under his chin once more, her cold eyes looming above him.

"You don't get release until I allow it. If you do I'll pull the trigger without a second thought." She promised and Sam knew without a doubt that would be the most difficult order to follow.

Lyria slowly lowered herself onto Sam, drawing a wave of warmth a pleasure that traveled up his nerves and set his senses on fire. The elf bit her lower lip as she accepted his girth, her face flushing red and her cold eyes fogging over slightly. The man growled as he was fully sheathed into her, twitching and writhing beneath this elf in ways he had never before. Certainly he had been with other women before but those had been quick and painless affairs, quick fuck and runs. This... it was something different. Never before had he felt so powerless in his life and aroused by it.

The elf started in a slow rhythm, her motions careful and measured even in the act of sex. Her breasts heaved above him, the swells of flesh bouncing ever so as she moved. His hands reached up and groped them, his fingers ghosting over her hardened nipples. Lyria did not protest even though it had not been ordered, indeed it seemed to spur her on. The more she worked the harder Sam had to fight against his own body, willing its reactions down. His body was soaring higher and higher upon this cloud of pleasure, one he had never felt before.

Lyria's moans filled the air of the apartment and intermixed were the quiet groans of Sam, the man attempting to hold in these sensations. The pressure continued to build more and more as the elf worked upon him, driving him closer to the brink of insanity as he held it in. His body was screaming for a release, crying out for a blissful climax but he knew well the rules of the game even now.

Finally Lyria spoke, her words breathless. "Now! Let go now!"

Sam's fingers sought the purchase of the mattress as Lyria's found the purchase of his chest, nails digging in painfully as he finally achieve his climax. Blinding white obliterated every coherent thought in his mind as his lips parted and his body was rocked by the powerful orgasm. No sound escaped his throat though he doubted any could properly communicate the pleasure he felt. Soon enough his body fell limp when he had spent himself and Lyria herself seemed to be rather drained for that exertion. The skin of his chest was sporting some nice gouges but that hardly mattered to him.

Lyria tossed the gun in her hand to the ground, moving to lie down beside Sam with a smirk upon her lips. "Well, I take it you got your dose of danger?"

The shadowrunner chuckled breathlessly as he stared up at the ceiling. "Probably for the next six lifetimes."