Night of Rain and Lycans

Greetings to all.

I have finally made my way back to Lit after a pretty extensive abscence.

I am now looking for a CoWriter for this story.

I seek a Writer who is into Dominance and submission, Lycans and Vampires, who enjoys darkness and visceral encounters. Who enjoys worlds beyond the norm, whether in modern times, times past, or times yet to be. Or even, times only imagined.

Where this story goes is as much up to my CoWriter as it is myself. I am thinking along the lines of capturing the Lycan, imprisoning Him, trying to gain information from Him using any methods devised as we write, eventually His escape, His kidnapping of my character, and her imprisonment at His mercy.

Please PM me with ideas, characters, and let me read a sample of your writing (a current story or thread is fine).

I post mostly during the day, and would not mind a Writer who posts during the same time. It does not have to be power posting or anything like that. Once or twice during a given day (or every other day even) is perfectly fine with me.

Once I have chosen a CoWriter, this story will be CLOSED

Edited to add: This story is now CLOSED for ThePhoenixMan and myself !!!

Thanks

Rain



"no, no Master, please" the plaintive cry easily heard above the erotic, strangely seductive, music that slithered about the darkness of the Club's interior. Silk turned to the cry, to see the girl, held fast against the wall close to where she herself stood, her own back to that same wall. A smile curled the Man's lips, He offering no answer to His begging captive. Wrapping His thick fingers within her long blonde mane, He pulled her from the wall, casting her to His feet, one word then came to His grinning lips...

"crawl"

The girl brushed her trembling lips to the boots of the Man, then did as commanded, slowly crawling, careful not to brush against another Master or a Mistress, or anyone else for that matter, her barely clad body slinking along that dirty floor. Silk watched, fascinated, as the girl moved, undulated, her eyes fixed forward, the Master was not following, instead He leaned against that very same wall and watched, His hand now stroking His own chin, as if wondering if His slave indeed would go thru with whatever task she had been given.... His grin widened.

Silk's attention went back to the crawling blonde, as she slowly, and Silk could see how scared she was, came to the feet of the Man at the opposite end of the bar, Silk's golden, almost feline eyes being drawn upwards, having not seen the Man, no, wait, He was more of a Beast, A living darkness, or, yes, a Predator in the midnight, in the shadows before this. It seemed the darkness and He were one, and He was the darker. He was large, easily more than 6 feet tall... imposing, intimidating, and staring right at her, that is until the trembling one at His feet took His attention...

Between, now commanding the floor, another slave girl, this one clad in shimmering red satin, clinging to her skin like the touch of liquid fire. The music played, and the girl danced, the Men, and the Women, turning to watch. She was quite the sight, the music seeming to take control of her motions, she and the music entwining.

But the Man in the darkness paid no attention, His attentions still fixated on the girl before His feet. Silk's attention drawn back, beyond the slave dance, to the interaction of that Man, that Shadow, that Beast, across the way.

Her golden tinged eyes watching with rapt attention.

She wanted to implant His face in her mind.

Absently, she let her fingers reach down, gently touching the deep ebon colored skirt that draped seductively over her legs. A slight shift, the skirt rising ever so slightly, fingers caressing the hilt of the blade that lay hidden within her leather boot. It was a comfort to her. She did not want to end up as the creature whimpering at the feet of the Man, who now, turning, was beginning her crawl back to her Master, who watched as well, eyes narrowing.

He, had slipped back into the shadows that He seemingly commanded, the faint crimson glow of His eyes all that betrayed His presence, if one knew where to look, as she now did.

Silk gave a sad glance to the girl crawling back to her Master. She did not care to hear the exchange, it mattered not to her. The girl was crying, begging to not be sold to the Man in the dark. If Silk had listened, that is what she would have heard. But that did not matter. What, or rather, Who mattered to her was the Man, and the Beast she knew He was.

He was Lycan, she was sure of it.

It was rare for Lycans to venture into any type of city. Perhaps a village, a smaller town, yes. But a larger city, it was extremely rare. Lycans were hunted, they were to be eradicated, just like the Vampires. Silk was on the Lycan "team". Sometimes she was used as bait, and she was quite effective, other times as a scout, as she was this time. The Hunters were waiting just outside. She would identify the Beast, He would be captured.

They wanted to know where there were others. Every so often a Lycan (or Vampire, depending on the hunting team you were working with), was captured and instead of outright killed. Information was crucial, the King wanted them all dead, He wanted His lands, His cities and towns and villages, free of the vermin, as He called them. Silk, being His daughter, wanted to see her Father's wishes carried out.

Stepping outside, the rain was just beginning, or had it been raining and was now waning? Nevertheless, it was going to be a cold night. Drawing the cloak over her shoulders, she headed into the alley next to the now bustling Club, informing the Commander of their target.


Character information:

Name: Silk - Daughter of King Algerion, Ruler of the land of Carne, from Mount Karellion, to the Azure Sea. Currently she is in the large city of Torne, hunting a large, lethal Lycan that had been spotted there. It was hoped that this particular Lycan could provide more detailed information on numbers and whereabouts than the previous captive had.

Age: 19

Description: Silk is petite, yet strong. Lithe and supple, her stride resembles a stalking panther. Eyes the color of golden amber, feline, intelligent, passionate. She has a long mane of midnight black, that she usually wears in a long braid that falls down to her mid back.



(I will try and find a picture that depicts how I see Silk looking and post it)

It was a cold dreary night, the rain falling amidst the blackest of skies. Having stalked a prey into a nearby alley, he opened chase. When she had turned and seen the ominous, over-sized wolf-like creature racing towards her, all she could do was turn and run in terror. Her voice seemingly stolen from her throat. Down into the darkest of alleys, where no one dared venture on such a night, He cornered her. She turned to face Him once again, the terror mingled with the pleading in her eyes.

Her eyes met His, which were narrow, and slitted. His face was contorted, a long snout, rain dripping from the flaring black nose. His face, along with his body, a mass of matted fur, the darkest of grays imaginable with streaks of blackness throughout. The muscles, bulged from every part of His body from the neck all the way down his legs. But, it was the white that shone from Him that scared the young woman the most. The long sharpened claws that curved from His paws, glimmered in the lone streetlight that flickered i the distance. Even moreso, when the creature sneered at His soon to be victim, it was the saliva dripping from His bared teeth, that buckled the woman's knees, begging for salvation.

It was only a flash of a moment, a split second, but the mighty creature had pounced and was atop the woman, pinning her helplessly beneath Him. His claws had shredded her covering, leaving her naked to the rain. The mighty muscle grew from between his legs as he began to mount her.

Realizing what was about to happen, she tried in vain to resist, the mere size of that monstrous organ, surely enough to tear her in two. He entered her nonetheless and rutted her completely and savagely. It was only after he was done, some long time later, that he finally put the nearly lifeless doll out of her misery. His long teeth pierced her neck and drew the very life from her, the same life that fed Him, and gave Him power.

Vanceur, known as the Terrorbeast, scaled the brick wall of the building in the alley way and ran among the rooftops of the city. This was His land, not like the others of His kind. They roamed and possessed the small villages, exhausting their supply and moving on once the Hunters moved in. They could rather easily be spotted among the commoners, easier targets for their enemies. Yet, Vanceur was among the eldest, the strongest, the most powerful, and the most wisest. He found his sanctity of the city more beneficial. There were much more prey for His taking, more of the commoners to whom He could blend in with, and more places to run and hide if necessary from the Hunters, even though He had dispensed easily with many of them.

Having satiated His need, Vanceur transformed back into the tall shadowy figure He was known for. A dark cloak enveloped Him, the hood pulled up, a protection from the rain. He descended to the streets, and to the pub, which He owned. Those who frequented the bar knew of the crowd that gathered there. The men, all powerful and demanding, the women, obedient loyal servants to those they came with. Vanceur knew them all, for they had to meet his approval.

So at the end, leaning against the wooden beam, He stood eying the crowd that had gathered. Yet there was one! One too many! An odd number among those who had come tonight. There was one who came, without a partner. Quickly pairing them off, it was easy for Vanceur to spot the young woman against the far wall who stood alone. It was His gaze in that direction which was misunderstood by the man next to her side. The patron thought that Vanceur had taken interest in his missive, to whence he commanded her to crawl to Him. Vanceur was amused, yet concentrated on the other.

What brought her here? What was her purpose? Why was she here alone? He was probing her mind, yet found traces of a shield, a barrier preventing Him from full disclosure. She was a strong-willed one, that was for sure. Her beauty was enchanting, but Vanceur considered her will to be even more tempting than her alabaster flesh.

The blonde at His feet had distracted Him, much as the crooning slave in delectable red had garnered the attention of most the crowd. Vanceur considered taking the plaything offered to Him, yet dismissed her, obviously much to her delight as she scurried back to her Master. Vanceur slipped back into the shadowy recess and watched the girl, studied her until she opted to leave the scene.

Vanceur paid her no more mind, watching the stage performance at hand.

Shimmering red silk painted the girl's naked frame as the dance continued. There was no need to strip anything off, this was not the place for that. Truth be told, the girl was so much more alluring because of the red that dripped over her curves, bathing her in the heat of her dance. About her throat, a thin steel collar, baring the initials of her Owner. Or, more accurately, one Initial, the single letter V.

To look within her eyes, pools of deep emerald green, but one would have to know that, for she did not raise her eyes to look any within their gaze, one would have seen a deep void, vacant, as if dead. Her horror had begun many months ago, what was left of her shredded mind was enough to keep her alive, if one wanted to call this a life. He had taken her several months ago, He had ripped her mind apart mere weeks later. She was a mere shell of a person, but a very attractive, and obediant shell she was. She would never give away what her Master was, what kind of Beast He was.

Her dance tonight would attract several of the visiting guests, both men and women, who would then pay the price for some "private time" with her.

His Club was quite successful.

Outside, in the once more pouring rain, the Hunters got into place. Silk had given the most accurate description, she having indeed implanted that face, even with the shadows, into the depths of her mind. The Commander had thought to send her back in. They had been hunting this particular Lycan for some time. His reputation was well known. Tales of the TerrorBeast abounded both in this city and back with her Father. He had been reluctant to send his daughter on this hunt, but Silk had insisted. The Hunters knew, as the only female on the hunting team, using her as bait, or scout, had been the only way they had captured and killed so many already. This one would be no different, at least in their eyes.

She would be sent back in as the bait. They wanted Him before the Club closed for the night and the patrons flowed out into the streets. That would be too confusing, too many faces, too many bodies, too many chances for things to go wrong. No, Silk would be sent back in, attract His attention, lead Him outside where they awaited. Crossbows, bolts tipped in purest silver, laced with sleeping poison. The combination would not be lethal, but would knock Him out for a good amount of time. Enough time to get Him to the Dungeons.

"Be careful" were the only instructions she needed. She was good at what she did.

Casting the rain off her long cloak as she stepped back into the Club, Silk took a moment to survey the scene once more. The girl in the red satin had completed her dance, and was no where to be seen. Silk wondered for a moment who she belonged to, and felt quite sorry for her. But that was not her concern this night. She had to once more locate Him, among the shadows that danced along the walls.

Slowly, Silk stalked along the perimeter of the Club. The Master and the blonde slave from before were still there, same place, near the bar. The girl was on her knees before the Man, His hand entangled in her flaxon mane. It took Silk a moment to realize that she had her lips wrapped around His cock, her head moving, she swallowing His long member. Her low murmerings could not be heard over the music that pulsed thruout, and neither could His groans of pleasure. His eyes were closed, which was better for Silk. The last thing she needed was to attract the wrong Man's attention. Tearing her eyes from the scene, as she slowly crept along the wall, her golden eyes scanned for a shadow darker than those around it, for the crimson, and telltale, hue of the Lycan's eyes. She was as silent as a Predator herself, dipping within those same shadows.

His focus had ben drawn back to his singing slave. Everyone there knew who she belonged to, for she exemplified and personified the epitome of what a perfect slave is and how they should conduct themselves. Her performance was not just for the patrons, but for Him also. Her performance was also to show, to teach others like her, how they were to be with their Masters. Those few, whom He had granted her services in private knew of her talents and were forever indebtted to Him.

Upon her completion, amidst the applause and cheers from the crowd, she passed the patrons, never once raising her head, nor her wondrous eyes. She made her way to the shadows and knelt, her red silk disappearing into the darkness. There, she lowered her head and pressed her lips to His boots and kissed them reverently. He was pleased and He showed His appreciation, patting her on the head. He then attached a leash to the decorative collar she wore.

Vanceur led the one, known only as "slave," further into the darkness and up a flight of stairs to His private loft. From above, He could watch all the activity below and enjoy the sights of all the Masters and their own slaves. From above, He could also use her, His own slave, in whatever manner He desired. In the sanctity of the loft, Vanceur positioned her on her knees, back straight. Her back was to the wall which overlooked the dancefloor, filled with the throng of patrons grinding to the deafening sounds. He stepped to her, straddled her knees and leaned on the rail. His figure was just a shadow, not even discernible above the lights which swirled and blinded those below who dared to look up.

Without instruction, without provocation, she reached out and freed His mighty shaft. She wrapped her nimble fingers about the girth, her thumb failing to reach her fingers. Her hand slipped to his base, her second hand gripped in like manner further along his shaft. Still there remained a bit of length beyond that which her hands held, and her tongue bathed that flesh. Her mouth strained yet slipped over the purple helmet as she knew He liked. She tended to Him as He leaned over her, and continued in her best efforts to please Him and draw from Him the sign of appreciation.

Vanceur would normally give slave her reward in due time. Tonight however, His attention was again drawn away from slave by the woman who came in solitude. He followed her, watching as she glanced towards the blonde giving head to her Master. His curiosity grew more piqued wondering what brought such a lovely creature all alone to His establishment? Following her eyes, He saw her seeking the shadows He once occupied!

She was there for Him! Vanceur was sure of it! Not even one would venture to His club alone, yet here she was there looking for Him! That excited Him and made his swollen cock twitch within slave's mouth. The view from above gave Vanceur a delicious view of her ample assets contained within her tight fitting dress. The notion of claiming her, flooded His mind and triggered the release slave had been working hard for.

Slave had swallowed all that He had offered! Daintily, she cleaned Him thoroughly and tucked the object of her devotion away. She placed her hands in her lap and looked down, never expecting any indication of His pleasure, taking satisfaction, only in the fact He had released, and she had taken it.

After a few minutes had passed, Vanceur brought slave to her feet and turned her toward the crowd below. He pressed tightly to her, His member finding home between her rounded cheeks, pushing her tightly to the rail. A hand on either side of her, Vanceur whispered in her ear, His voice dark and smooth as the shadows of the wind. He pointed to the girl below.

"Greet her!"

The command was simple, yet slave knew it to mean much more. Slave nodded and when given the chance, slid off in the direction of the steps. Vanceur watched from above as the unknown one continued to scan the shadows, finally settling upon the emerging form of slave. Vanceur watched with great intent as slave moved towards her, preparing to be her 'gift'!

Slave knelt before the girl and began by kissing her feet ...

Silk was cautious. One had to be cautious when dealing with a Predator, whether that Predator was Lycan or Vampire. She crept along the shadows, each step calculated, each motion thought of in advance. Her eyes, pools of nearly pure golden fire, peered into the darkness, seeking something darker, deadlier, lethal, lurking, watching. Yet she saw nothing, nothing other than the grinding bodies of the Club patrons, Silk thought of them more as victims. He was Lycan, she was sure of it. This certainly had to be His own personal hunting ground, the willing, waiting to be taken, to be slaughtered.

The thought made her tremble.

Slave, had seen what her Master could do. Her shredded mind could barely handle the thought of what He was. Loyal only to Him, devoted only to Him, terrified of Him, she quickly descended the stairs to do His bidding, she still licking her lips of His seed, still tasting Him.

Slave knelt before the girl and began by kissing her feet ...

Silk had seen the flash of red, the shimmer of silk and satin, as her golden eyes found the approaching body of the slave. The slave that had earlier been dancing. As the girl knelt before her, Silk caught a glimpse of the collar about her throat, and the scriptive V engraved within.

The brush of lips to her own leather boots surprised Silk, altho she did not let that surprise translate to her features. Lifting the toe of her boot ever so slightly, she, in turn, lifted the chin of the slave girl. For the moment, despite the thrum of the music, the grinding of the bodies, the begging of other slaves, it was only the 2 of them.

"up" came the quiet command from Silk. Slave quickly lifted to her feet, yet her eyes remained lowered, focused on the black suede leather boots of the girl before her, the boots she had only just kissed.

"who sent you?" Silk knew the girl had been commanded, just as that blonde earlier had been commanded and sent to the feet of the Man in the Shadows.

The girl answered, her voice quiet, but Silk could not quite hear what had been said, with her head and eyes down. Reaching out, wrapping her fingers into the girl's long mane of hair, the dark tendrils curling about those slender lengths. Pulling her head up, and meeting the slave's eyes. Even then, slave struggled to keep her eyes lowered. Slave shivered, feeling her Master's eyes boring into her.

"Master sent me"

Slave was well trained enough to know, it was never "my Master" a mistake the blonde had made at the feet of the Man in the shadows. Slaves owned nothing, and certainly did not own their Master. My, was not a word in her vocabulary, she had learned that. Silk, well versed in the world of slaves and Masters, heck her own Father had slaves, took note of how the girl answered.

Silk released her hair, but her fingers lingered along the girl's collar, tracing the steel lightly until she came to the V.

She was about to dismiss her. Silk had work to do, and did not need to be distracted by a overly amorous or horny or whatever, Master, until her eyes rested upon the girl's bared right shoulder.

Wolf claws.

Silk stepped back. It took only a moment, the proverbial blink of an eye, for her to realize that those scars were wolf claws, torn into the girl's shoulder.

"And who may that be" she calmly asked the slave girl.

Vanceur watched below as slave tended to her task. His keen hearing allowed him to eavesdrop into the whispered conversations between the two females. Even the din of patrons with the cacophony of the music was not enough to bar Vanceur from listening to the questioning manner of the unknown one.

He was proud of slave, for she did what He had asked to the best of her ability, yet the strong-willed woman would not allow herself the charms and talents of slave. 'Poor lass', Vanceur thought, for she should not know such pleasures slave could provide. He took note though, the way the woman took special interest in the decorative collar that slave bore. Vanceur wondered if she desired such a collar also?

Even though slave tried her best, He noted how she was about to be sent away, just as he had dismissed the blonde, earlier in the evening. Yet it was the mark she bore on her shoulder, the mark she bore with pride, that most intrigued the inquisitive one. Vanceur listened as the slave responded to the question.

"It is His mark, the Mark of my Master, for I belong to Him, and Him alone. It is there for all to see, for all to know who I belong to, to know who I serve. He goes by no other name, other than Master, yet some are permitted to call Him, 'Sir'!"

Vanceur's chest filled with pride for slave had answered the question as honestly and fully as she could. No matter how the inquisitive one badgered, slave would never utter the name of her Master, for she knew to do such would result in the most severest of punishments. To be without His attention, to be without His care for her, she might as well be dead. He would surely dispose of her as His. Bearing His mark, and out of His favor, no other would accept her, and the fate of one all alone was worse than death itself. If she were to ever fail Him in such a manner, she would beg mercifully for Him to end her life, for she could not face such misery.

Slave, having answered the girl's questions, grasping both of her hands, once again fell to her knees. Slave pressed her lowered head to the young woman's thighs, just above her knees.

"Please," slave begged desperately. "Allow me to greet you properly. I beg of you." Desperation and fear filled slave's voice as her plea continued. "He has sent me to you, to welcome you and please you." Tears were now welling in slave's eyes as she sensed she might fail her Master's command. "Let me not bear the wrath of his displeasure ... Please I beg of you!"

Slave's head immediately turned and pressed tightly to the woman's crotch. Slave kissed her fervently on her sex, atop the black sheath of skirting that covered her there. Slave's hands were already caressing the boots she had kissed, gently gliding over the ankles towards her calves. Silk hoped the unknown woman would grant her access under her skirt, so she could do her Master's bidding.

Vanceur stared down onto the scene, which had drawn the attention of a few patrons. Anyone of them would consider slave's presence before them an honor, something bestowed upon very few. It was unheard of, to them, to refuse slave, for that meant you refused Him! They watched the two women with rapt interest, a small hum of hushed whispers encircling them.

Swallowing, Silk quickly assessed what was happening. It was not that she was in over her head, for she was quite smart and could think on her feet when need be, and in doing what she did, being the bait for the Hunters, she was quite adept at adjusting to most situations.

But the slave girl had caught her somewhat offguard. Looking down upon the begging creature, Silk's golden eyes once more came to rest upon the mark torn into the girl's shoulder. She felt the girl nuzzling her.

"Allow me to greet you properly. I beg of you." Desperation and fear filled slave's voice as her plea continued. "He has sent me to you, to welcome you and please you." Tears were now welling in slave's eyes as she sensed she might fail her Master's command. "Let me not bear the wrath of his displeasure ... Please I beg of you!"

Slave's hands were already caressing the boots she had kissed, gently gliding over the ankles towards her calves.

Toward her calves................ toward the blade that she kept deftly hidden in her right boot.

"No" came the command as Silk pushed the girl back and away. It took her a moment to realize what the girl had been speaking about, and truth be told, her own face was flush with the thought, the girl's touch had been soft, her breath warm. But this was not the time, nor would this ever be the place that Silk would engage in such behaviour. She had kept herself chaste for a reason. No one would touch her until her wedding night. She was the daughter of the King, and even tho she was not the heir, her older Brother was, she was still to remain virginal until the night of her vows. Even from the touch of another female.

Slave quickly lowered back down, head resting to the boots of the girl who had just refused her. There was the slightest hush in the crowd that had been watching. All knew who slave belonged to.

Silk realized, too late, that her refusal had drawn undo attention. But she could not allow the girl to discover the blade, that would draw undo attention as well, it would mark her as a Hunter, or at least a threat.

But, Silk had chosen her course of action, she would have to see it thru. She was sure the Lycan she sought was the girl's Master. But, she was equally certain that the girl would not reveal that to her, perhaps to one of the Hunters she would, and the thought did cross her mind to lure the slave herself outside, but the slave was not the target, and Silk knew that if she did lure her outside, her fate would be no better than if left to the punishment of her Master.

Her golden eyes took in the eyes of the one's surrounding them. She had to gain control of this situation quickly.

"Your Master is quite presumptous to think that all wish to be greeted as such" she stated, suddenly wondering if He could hear what was going on, she was quite sure He was watching. Again, she lifted her boot, lifting the head of the slave from the floor. Looking at the others as she did so. "There is no show here, go on about your business." she waving them away dismissively.

Silk handled the slaves her Father owned often, and she put on a good front, but she was not entirely comfortable being placed in this position.

"Perhaps it would be better that He greet me Himself"

Slave was trembling. Having failed what He had desired. She dared not move. He had not given the signal for her to return, and she would not even dream of bringing the Mistress, and that was how slave saw Silk, to His private loft. Just having that vague thought scared her near to death. Slave was convinced Master could read her mind.

Silk, on the other hand, her mind was racing. She had to get the Lycan down to where she was once more. She knew He must be in a private room closeby, and she also knew she would NOT be venturing into that private room, alone or otherwise. That would be suicide on her part, and she knew it. He was interested in her, He sending His slave told her that.

She just had to get Him outside, where the trap lay, waiting to be sprung.

Vanceur watched as slave did everything in her powers to seduce the young maiden who had ventured into His club alone. Yet, as the newcomer refused slave's efforts, He grew enraged that one should slap Him in the face as such. She obviously knew not the ways of the club, the rules of behavior and conduct expected of those in attendance. The audacity of one so young and willfull to enter His abode and act in such disregard caused a fire to burn within.

Vanceur could feel the Beast within, begin to emerge. The deep breath He took and held indefinitely caused His sinews to strain, His muscles to bulge, and His anger to rise. Surely, she'd be His next victim, and He'd leave her so that none could identify her when He was through with her. However, much to his chagrin, Vanceur watched, his eyes slitted, a fierce glow within, as several Masters came to slave's rescue.

"Have you no respect?" One of the men stood between slave and the girl, barking his outrage. Another joined his side, and started toward the woman as others gathered around. "Whom do you belong to?" The second man growled determined to oust the outsider. A third man joined the duo as he added, "You don't belong here!"

Vanceur watched as the three men backed the girl in black towards the door. The other patrons were parting the way to make her exit much easier. They meant her no harm. They merely wanted her out of the club. Had they known who she truly was, and what her purpose there was for, her exit may not have been so well granted.

Vanceur's anger had calmed, His muscles relaxed, His pupils dilated, as he spied the scene from above. The exit of the woman from the club caused a stir among the guests as the noise slowly rose to previous levels. However, many eyes, including His, returned to slave who remained on her knees, trembling quite heavily as tears rained down her face and pooled on the floor beneath her.

The three who had forced the woman from the club came to slave and tried to calm her with no success. "I've failed, I've failed Him," she continually sobbed. Almost in unison, the three men looked to the lights overhead, knowing a loft lay hidden up there somewhere. Vanceur stared, the red glow from his eyes came through the darkness as if it were a laser from the lights themselves.

The three Masters helped slave to her feet and escorted her to the darkness. The crowd resumed their party as the men escorted slave up the stairs. Vanceur had left His spot and retreated to His chair, His throne of sorts. He sat there waiting their arrival, which was most pronounced by slave rushing into the room, stumbling over her feet in a hurried haste to reach His feet. She bathed His feet with her tears, begging forgiveness for her failures, and begging for some form of discipline so that she may perform better if given the chance again.

Vanceur acknowledged her like a pet, patting her head to calm her nerves. "I think it best," His voice a warm wind across her trembling form, "if you grace yourself to those who came to your side." The three men stood at the far end of the room near the rail, their backs to the crowds below. "Grant them what the woman refused."

Without hesitation, slave turned on her knees, tears still raining in her eyes, slave crawled the distance and proceeded to give each Master her gratitude in oral satisfaction. One by one each one accepted slave's greeting and rewarded her efforts, honored to be so rewarded by He for what they had done. Vanceur watched with as much distance, as there was physical distance between them. His mind was to the woman, trying to understand her, and her purpose there. She had intrigued him. Slave was but a mere object at this point. Vanceur felt the need to know more about the one who dared challenge Him in His own club.

It quickly became obvious that the capture of this particular Lycan was not going to be easy, and more than likely, was not going to happen this night as well.

As she was backed toward the door, she had to wonder, did these people have any idea of the Beast in their midst, the Monster that even now, she was sure, watched these events unfold from His safe observation point in the darkness.

"Have you no respect?"
"Whom do you belong to?"
"You don't belong here!"

Silk stared down the 3 men, more than determined to prove that she was not an owned animal as they obviously thought women, females, should be. She did not deign to answer them tho. This situation was spiraling out of control, she had to get out of there now to regroup, and to tell the Hunters of this turn of events.

Once outside, sans her cloak, which was still inside the Club, Silk, the rain soaking her to the skin rather quickly, made her way into the alley, seeking, and finding the Commander.

He did not look happy.

This night was not turning out as planned, and no one was too happy about it.

"Explain!" He ordered, backing Silk to the wall. Her hands came to his chest. "Do not think to intimidate me Commander! Remember, You work for my Father!" Silk hated pulling rank like that, but she was not about to let the brute of a Commander take his anger at not capturing the prize tonight, out on her. This was not her fault!!

After explaining the strange turn of events, the Commander nodded. The mission would be put on hold for the night. They needed to discuss their next course of action. This would not be as easy as the others, it was obvious. "Perhaps capture is not the best course for this Beast" the Commander commented. Perhaps He was right. It was crystal clear that this Lycan was different. That made Him all the more dangerous. "All the more valuable when it comes to information!" Silk argued. "Perhaps capture is the ONLY course of action for this particular Wolf. Such intelligence can only garner us needed information on numbers, reproduction rates, and other WereWolf locations!"

The Commander was still not happy, but did acknowledge Silk's thinking and the fact that what had happened in the Club surely was not her fault. Altho, truth be told, she felt that it was. She should have been able to handle the situation better. She should have been able to draw Him out. And she should have been able to handle that slave better.

That slave.

That slave, at this moment, had finished her ministrations to the 3 Men who had "come to her rescue" so to speak, and was now curled up on the floor at the feet of the Wolf. Her lips and tongue tasted of the seed she had swallowed. Altho, it was His seed she desired, slave knew, just from His silence and the tense hold of His body, that He was deep in thought. Was He thinking about her? Her being the stranger? The girl?

Slave did not ponder on the Stranger. She lay her head to His boot, the softness of her dark mane spilling around the leather.

Silk, on the other hand, did ponder the slave, and her Master. She had failed, and felt, deep inside, that this indeed had been her fault.

After a lengthy discussion, it was decided that the mission for the night would not be attainable, and the Hunters were dismissed, except for a contingent of 2, left behind to keep an eye on the Club, and on the Lycan, should He decide to leave and hunt on His own. Both were left with pure silver bolts for their crossbows. Both were told to kill the Lycan if He emerged. The Commander would not risk a capture at this point, not until he discussed the situation with his men, and the King. And he certainly would not risk a capture with just the 2 Hunters left behind. Silk stayed behind as well, as she was the only one who knew what the Target looked like. As the hours passed, out there in the rain, she thought of her own next move.

An opportunity presented itself when one of the Club's baretenders, a leggy blonde wearing barely anything, emerged into the alley way, using a door that the Hunters had not previously charted. It was well hidden, very well hidden.

Silk had watched as many of the Club goers had filed out into the dark rainy night. Perhaps this would be a good time to slip in once more, at least to just observe Him a little more. The more information she got on Him, the easier He would be to capture.

Without telling the other Hunters, and without permission of the Commander, Silk slipped quietly down int the alley, and into that same door, as the Bartender and a Guest, had their fun in the alley outside. "The Owner will kill me, if He finds me out here" she giggled to her guy friend, while he ran a hand up under the tiny skirt she wore. She was supposed to be working, not getting alittle on the side, but the Club had slowed down some, and she didn't think she would be missed, and she certainly did not think that someone else would be sneaking in that secret door. "Eh, what He don't know won't hurt Him" the drunk guy drooled. It was his first time in a Club like this. The sexual energy had gotten to him. He was hoping to score and it looked like he would. "I'm so glad Vince brought me here" Vince, of course, knew better, this guy did not, and apparently neither did the bartender girl. The heavy door thudded shut as Silk slipped in, effectively locking them out. They didn't care, not at the time. They were too busy getting busy to care. The Drunk already had his pants down around his ankles, and was trying to shove his semi-hard cock, it was cold outside and he was really drunk, into the willing bartending girl.

The music was still playing as Silk carefully worked her way along the dark hallway, staying pressed to the wall, letting the shadows effectively hide her from sight, she hoped. Ahead, she could see the lights flickering and dancing, the music seeming to roll thru the long hall in waves. She moved ever so slowly. Her mind was telling her this was very dangerous. This time, she had no real backup. But she was determined to just find a place and observe, to listen, to learn, and not interact. When she came upon the stairway, there in the dark, across from her, a stairway leading up, she got her first lesson, following the stairs upwards, surely that was where He had been during her whole scene with the slave. Watching. Perhaps even listening. Silk stood there, golden eyes staring upwards. Should she go up, see where exactly the stairway went?? Should she? And risk coming face to face with the Lycan?

Vanceur remained in his seat, deep in thought, even as slave lay her head at his feet. He surely could have gone to her and confronted the woman Himself. But that would surely show the others a weakness, a weakness He did not have! He was grateful for the intervention of the others, else the TerrorBeast would indeed have emerged and done away with the woman.

Vanceur could not fathom why a woman like her would come to His club without the accompaniment of a Master, nor in search of a Master. She did not even possess the traits of a Mistress, for surely none would dismiss slave! He needed to know more about the strange woman with no name, the woman who kept her mind sheltered from his prying.

The matter was fading as time was passing, Vanceur becoming more aware of slave, still whimpering at His feet. "What is it my slave? Why do you still whimper?"

Slave started crying openly once more, tears of shame renewed despite doing her Master's bidding. Through her tears and sobs, she managed to speak. "Your slave has failed. Your slave has failed you. Your slave has begged for discipline, yet you don't administer it. Are you to release me?" She had barely got out the last question, nearly choking on her sobs, deathly afraid of His response.

Vanceur suddenly became aware of His misgivings, not giving slave the attention she truly deserved. She was *HIS* slave, and He was obligated to give her the attention she deserved. Once more he patted her like the pet she was and sent her to the wall. "Fetch that which fears you most!"

Vanceur watched as slave crawled with renewed faith and energy to the near wall. Yhere upon the wall was an impressive array of varied instruments of pain. Slave regarded the wall carefully and then raised her head and clasped the black leather handle of a large, diamond studded paddle within her teeth. She plucked it from the hook, brought it to His feet and laid it before Him.

Vanceur was pleased with her choice, for indeed it would cause pain, the sweetness of the diamonds cutting through her flesh, surely to pierce the welts, causing tiny rivers which he would in turn suckle from. Without further instruction, slave positioned herself on all fours in front of her Master and rolled up the form fitting second skin of her red dress. Brighter than the full moon, as pale as a newborn's flesh, her ass was exposed and thrust high, awaiting her Master's attention.

Vanceur handled the paddle and proceeded to lay kisses of the leather to her bared bottom. Each smack was measured, placed precisely where He wanted them to go. Each time the leather filled the air with the distinctive sound of contact, slave lurched forward, restraining as best she could to not utter a sound. Vanceur watched as the lovely skin reacted to his contact, painted hues of red quickly replacing blanched areas of white. Deeper dots of crimson red pinpointed the location of the diamond studs.

Vanceur was relentless. Over and over, He'd kept raining blows upon slave's ass till the welts were quite visibly raised, the dotted marks covering her entire backside and thighs. Despite the tears that flowed from slave's eyes, she was much happier than could be imagined. She knew that He was doing this so she could do better, which only meant that she was still in His favor. Otherwise, He'd merely have tossed her into the cold rain outside, which could be heard falling upon the roof overhead.

How much time had passed, Vanceur had not known, and slave could not care. They were together, and that was all that mattered. The blows continued until He looked down and saw the dark, almost black speckled teardrops decorating slave's ass. Vanceur was quite pleased with the blood He had drawn from slave, her little offering to Him. She knew deep down that if she could give Him anything, her blood would most please Him. She was ever grateful that He drew it from her as she felt it trickle down her bottom.

Vanceur pressed His hand to her back and pushed. Slave quickly and obediently pressed her head to the cold floor. He knelt behind her, between her parted legs and kissed the bruised flesh. Her blood on His lips was like sugar to a baby. He licked and laved her wounds with His broad tongue and she whimpered in delight, tears now silent, eyes full of joy. And as Vanceur cleaned her wounds, He showed appreciation, taking the handle of the paddle with which He brutally assaulted her, and brought it between the smooth, shaved lips of her sex, already wet and waiting. He pushed the handle to the hilt and ravaged her. Again and again, he pumped into her as she took it, His tongue still running along her cuts. Slave endured the sweet torture, hanging on the brink of release, the sweet delicious sensation almost too good to endure. Surely she could easily dive into the black oblivion of orgasmic bliss, but He had not commanded it. So now slave merely listened for that command, that He may, or may not give.

She continued to endure, continued to wait, continued to take. Slave didn't care anymore if she'd cum or not. She was with Him and that's all that mattered!

Slave

http://s211.photobucket.com/albums/bb160/RainingHeat/?action=view&current=slaveavatar.jpg

Her eyes rolling back, she lost herself to the pain that tore thru her, the only real sensation she could ever feel, that and the passion and lust He awakened her when He took her. Those were the only sensations, the only feelings, that slave knew anymore.

Her entire body shook, as He drove the hilt of the paddle deep into her soaking wet, willing, begging cunt. His tongue lacing along her flesh only heightened her pleasure, the mingling with the pain from the beating, sent slave spiraling, until she no longer could stay silent, she began moaning, crying, keening, begging, for Him, and Him alone. Along the floor, were deep claw marks, not only His, but her own, she again digging her nails within, lingering on the abyss of her climax, daring not to plunge over until permission were given from His lips. It took all the strength slave had to hold back, her entire form shuddering beneath Him.

"MMMMMASTERRRRR!!!!!" came her desperate cry, from the very depths of her soul.

Her soul. Once, she owned her own soul, once she had been free. Slave had a name then. A name, a family, a life. They were not rich, by any means. Her Father nothing more than a lowly Guard, her mother a teacher of the local children. She had hoped to be a teacher as well. That had been her dream. Children were such a joy to her. Often, when she was young, she would lay in the grass in the field behind where she lived, feeling the warmth of the sun, and daydream about the kids, and having her own.

Her name then had been Serene.

It was a name she no longer knew, no longer cared about.

Not since the night she encountered Him.

He had stalked her, He had hunted her, He attacked her. The rape had been brutal, but worse, instead of ending her pain, He enslaved her. It was not long before her mind gave way at what she witnessed, as beautiful as she was, her mind had been easy to dominate, to shred.

She lived only for Him now.

She was no longer Serene, only slave.

Her devastated family never knew what happened to her.

Slave felt tears stinging her cheeks as He continued to ravage her, feeding His own lust, His own hunger, as she begged for release. Her keening moans continuous now, if not for the music below, any patrons left in the Club this late would have heard her pitiful cries. Then again many had, she had been forced on more than one occassion to please a special Patron before Him and others. But always, always, she withheld her climax until He granted permission. A word from Him, and she would explode, even when not aroused. Slave's body obeyed His every command. One would think if He commanded her heart to cease beating, perhaps it would.

*******************************

Silk:

She had crept silently up the darkened stairs. At first there was silence, except for the never ending music of the Club. But, as the music lulled for a moment, her ears picked up another sound. Begging. Crying.

Creeping toward the closed door, Silk paused outside, listening intently.

It was Him.

Him and the slave.

The sounds she heard next made her blood go cold. The hard smack of a paddle perhaps, some kind of intrument, against the body of another. She was concentrating so intently on what was happening on the other side of that door, Silk ignored the music that began again down in the Club. She heard several low grunts, and a muffled moan, as if someone were desperately trying to keep quiet.

What was He doing to her?

The sound seemed to go on forever, until the low thudding of the paddle ceased. What she heard then, made Silk step back. She thought, from what she was hearing, that He was now fucking His slave. Wasn't that obvious??

If she could have seen what He was really doing, it would have horrified her.

The sounds she heard, the begging, the moaning, the hard smack of the paddle to flesh, then the wet sounds of fucking, body to body, skin to skin, mounting her, riding her, knowing that the slave, more than likely was bent over, naked, accepting what He was doing to her, even begging for more!! The chill in her blood deepened, making her outwardly shiver. How could one give up such control?

Silk had always wondered that about her Father's slaves.

Shaking her head, she turned her attention back to the Lycan and His slave on the other side of that door.

Capturing Him was going to be alot more complicated, and a lot harder, than any of the others had been. Silk realized, as she stood there in the dark, listening to what was happening on the other side of that door, that to entrap Him, even to get close enough to kill Him, if that were the case, she would have to know His every move, and maybe even His very thoughts, if possible.

The Hunters themselves would never venture into the Club, especially not unarmed, which was the rule of the Club. She had been lucky to sneak in her blade hidden in her boot.

It would be up to her. She would have to observe Him, watch Him, learn Him. She would have to "know" Him!

The thought terrified her. He was a Lycan. Silk knew, if she were indeed discovered, He could easily kill her. Was it worth it? Would it be?

That was a decision, a thought, a plan, that would need to be extensively discussed with the Commander and the other Hunters. Even her Father.

With those thoughts weighing heavily on her mind, she slipped back into the darkness. The sounds she had heard still haunting her mind, so much so that Silk could feel herself trembling.

Silk slipped out of the Club, the same way she had snuck in. The two in the alley way were done with their little tryst and were no where to be seen. That was fine by Silk, she just wanted, no, needed to get out of there. Get out of there and think. Think and talk to the Commander.

She herself called off the 2 left to guard the Club. Silk made the decision that this Lycan was too important, too valuable, to just slaughter like the others. She was sure that He had to know of the where abouts of others. For all she knew, He was the Pack Leader, the Alpha Male. If not, she was sure that He knew of the others, He did not come across as one who would not keep tabs on rivals. Rivals for food, blood, or anything else for that matter.

It was late when she returned to her suite of rooms at the local Inn. Tired, soaking wet, and well, a bit agitated, she stripped off her dripping clothes, and called for a hot bath be drawn. She was still the daughter of the King, she was afforded some of the luxeries, even if she didn't tend to take advantage of them all. Two servants got the bath ready for her. She dismissed both with a nod of thanks before dropping her robe and sinking into the embrace of the warm, heated water. Gods it felt good, relaxing.

Finally, the chill she had felt deep inside since hearing Him and the slave, began to dissapate slowly.

Silk soaked in the bath for a good hour, before finally emerging and drying off. She was in bed and asleep a few minutes later.

Her slumber started out quiet enough. Silk often dreamed, but usually all her dreams tended to be were harmless memories of her childhood, or innocent fantasies about a local guard, or even stableboy, she thought attractive. Often she dreamed of a large wedding, a handsome groom.

This night, her dreams took a decidedly darker turn.

She was back in the Club, standing in the doorway of that same room she had been listening at. Only this time she could see everything that went on. The begging slave, the hard paddle, striking flesh, the slave, on hands and knees, groaning in pain, He grinning, evil, the gleam in His eyes nothing short of vicious. Again and again the paddle struck, again and again, the girl cried out, begging Him.................

Begging Him ......................

Begging Him to................... to.................

Stop?

No, begging Him to mount her, to take her, to fuck her. Begging her Master to fuck her.

Silk woke up with a start, shaking her head wildly to vanquish the images that were flashing thru her mind's eye.

The sun had come up. It was morning.

Time to have that chat with the Commander. She would start her observations that very night!!!

Vanceur continued his relentless abuse of slave's pussy, thrusting the makeshift dildo in and out of her ravaged sexual opening. The very instrument that had brought about such pain, was now the very same thing that was bringing her intense pleasure. The blurred line between pain and pleasure was erased as each became one. Slave writhed as she availed herself to Him, her entire being a pure extension of Him. He still had not given the command she so desperately sought.

In the midst of her violation, just as slave thought she could bear no more, He stopped. He withdrew the paddle handle, her slick honeyed juices glistening upon the thick shaft. His tongue had licked her wounds, but slave was on fire. He brought the paddle around to her mouth and fed her the handle as she cleaned it of her juices. Once it was cleaned, and only after it had been thoroughly, He gave slave the command to use it again. She did, with eager delight. He was pleased and He gave her the command, the release she had so willingly, and so obediently held back.

Slave was so thankful, a thousand rivers, from numerous orgasms denied, suddenly rushed with violent force. She erupted, her release a glorious, thunderous explosion of energy and passion. He watched as she soared through the black abyss, and slowly flitted back to the reality of where she was. Immediately upon gaining her composure, slave crawled once more to His feet and kissed the leather boots passionately, thanking Him abundantly for not the release, but for the experience. When slave felt the comforting hand of her Master, and His words that her discipline was complete, she returned the leather paddle to its proper location, returned to His feet, and curled up in a little ball, purring like a kitten.

+++ +++ +++

Some time had passed as Vanceur's thoughts returned to the strange patron. He could not erase her image, nor the events from His mind. His slave, lay content and asleep at His feet as the wee hours of the morn drew near. The buzz of the crowd drew slowly silent leaving the staff behind.

Vanceur let slave sleep and made the nightly rounds as per His usual routine. He came out of the shadows of the steps, and immediately noticed that something was amiss, out of the ordinary. There were two things, actually, that He noted.

The first, was a hooded cloak that hung on a rack by the door, a garment that none had claimed on their way out, a rarity on such a night. The rain still continued to fall with a force parallel to the force of the paddle He had applied to slave earlier. Vanceur plucked the garment from the hook and studied it carefully. It belonged to a female, and He immediately recalled how the troublesome had been urged from the premises in haste, without any cover. Vanceur covered His face with the cloak and inhaled.

There she was, the first He would know of her. Her scent, each one unique, each different in their own subtle way. Her scent He now had of her. He could of course track her, hunt her down by her scent, but the rain would make it difficult to do with precision. But He had her scent, a scent committed to memory, one which He could track when the time was right. He took the cloak as His own!

Vanceur then tended to His staff as a manager would, closing and settling the tills. Everything down to the last penny was accounted for, but something was still amiss. He dismissed the staff, and they exited as a group, all except one, one He ordered to stay behind.

Coryana, a lovely statuesque blonde, was not sure what to make of the request that He had asked, for her to remain behind. She bid her coworkers farewell, with nervous anticipation, for He had made His request seem as if He had an interest in her. It was an interest, that the blonde haired bartender, hoped would bring her in the favor of Him, just as slave was in His favor. Coryana could feel her nipples tighten with sexual anticipation, and a definite moisture filling her already wet sex.

When Vanceur had asked her to strip, she was eager and quick to comply, ever the more confident she had garnered His sexual desire. However, once she was naked before Him, His demeanor had changed. The look on His face was one of discord and disappointment.

"Coryana, please explain to me, how it is that your hair is in disarray? Why is it matted and filled with the scent of rain?"

As He asked this of her, he fetched lengths of rope and bound each wrist to an overhead bar lingering above the dancefloor. Unable to respond to His question with honesty, Coryana suddenly feared her fate. He did know! He did know of her indiscretion, and now she was to pay dearly for it! She could not bear the shame to admit her wrongdoings, merely resulting to a pitiful cry for forgiveness, much different than slave.

Coryana's ankles were fastened to rings in the floor and she stood spread eagled before His eyes. Vanceur roughly shoved three fingers into her wanton, honey curl covered sex. In disgust, He pulled out, the remnants of her earlier exploits evidenced on His fingers. He smeared the sluice on her face, lowered in pure humiliation.

Out of the shadows, as pure as she had appeared when the club was full, slave appeared, her red dress clinging to her smooth curves in pure perfection. In her hand, she carried a bull whip, which she handed to Him with a smile and a kiss to His lips. ... ... ... ... ...

Slave

Curled at His feet, her body as well as her mind, exhausted, satiated, slave fell into a contented sleep. She felt the deep ache of her pussy where He took her with the paddle handle, the taste of herself still lingering on her lips where she licked it clean at His command, the sweetness so very intoxicating, the pain of where that same paddle had struck her flesh, over and over again. It would hurt for days. A pain she relished, for it was given by Him, for His pleasure.

Slave trusted Him.

Slave loved Him.

Where others saw a Monster, a Beast, slave only saw her Master, no matter His form.

She had been aware when He left the loft. Silently, she had gotten to her feet, stretching as she blinked herself awake. A slight shake of her head sent her long dark hair falling about her shoulders in wild abandoned. No matter how she tried to tame it, her hair always had that wildly sexed up look.

Slave stepped to the window that overlooked the Club, focusing on Him. It wasn't that she was nosey, it wasn't that she was spying on Him. Slave had no such thoughts. Two simple reasons drew her to that window, when awake, her eyes always desired to be gazing upon Him, altho never into His own eyes. Always lowered to His boots. The other reason, and even slave could not answer why, but she had an uncanny knack of knowing when He would desire something from the loft. And this, was one of those times.

Slave had not seen the bartender's transgression. She had no knowledge of it. Yet, drawn to that window, it took only a momentary glance from Him in her direction, as He bound the blonde girl, for her to know what it was He desired.

The bull whip.

Truely a terrifying instrument in the hands of One who knew how to use it. Slave feared the bull whip, almost as much as the diamond encrusted paddle. It was the sound that frightened her. The snap the whip often made before biting into flesh. Just that sound alone would bring her to her knees. In fact, the only reason slave feared the diamond paddle more was simple. To wield the diamond paddle, Master had to be standing close to her. To wield the bull whip, He was much further away. Slave did not neccessarily fear the paddle she had chose for her punishment, than the fact that He were so close to her while admistering the punishment. It was Him that she feared, ultimately, His displeasure, His disappointment in her, His anger with her. It was Him, and the thought He would "free" her that terrified slave.

Free, in this case, meant kill. But to slave, to be free'd or killed meant the same thing. She would no longer be at His feet.

In fact, to take His collar from her would be the ultimate punishment, the ultimate torture for slave, and the thought, in those brief moments, made her shiver.

Shaking her head slightly, she turned and fetched the large, intimidating whip from it's place amongst His "toys". She knew not to appear naked after her own punishment, if He wished others to see her transgressions, He would rip her garment from her Himself. Slipping into her shimmering red dress, this one cascading down a bit, over her lovely thighs, undulating along the length of her legs as she walked, caressing her with the color of gleaming, blood red, bull whip in hand, she descended the stairs, silently gliding over the dance floor of the Club, and appearing out of the shadows just as He turned, hand extended.

Slave placed the whip within His grasp, a smile curling her lips as she glanced at the blonde, yet still not even meeting the bound woman's gaze, then the whisper of a kiss to His lips, her breath trembling and warm.

Slave then retreated, slipping back into the shadows. She stayed close tho, lowering to her knees.

Coryana, was absolutely terrified. Terrified and ashamed. His words made her wince, and she looked away, but she did not miss the fact this His pet brought Him a whip........... A WHIP?????

Her pale blue eyes flew wide open, staring at the evil leather whip in His hands.

"No, No, please, DON'T" she managed to beg. Surely He wouldn't use that on her???


***********************************************
Silk

Silk got herself a cup of steaming hot tea. The sun just barely having risen over the horizon.

The dream she had, well, suffice it to say it had unnerved her just a bit. She could not seem to shake the images from her mind. Nor could she shake the sounds she had heard coming from His office, if that's what it was, the night before.

"Something wrong?" the Commander asked as he sat down next to her in the Inn's small kitchen.

"No, no, just did not sleep well" she lied.

He gave her one of those looks, as if he knew she were holding something back. But hell, he didn't always understand women.

Silk spent the better part of the next couple of hours, discussing her ideas with the Commander.

He wasn't all that happy with the idea. He was an action man. He wanted the enemy dead, so they could move on to the next.

"But there may be no next if we don't get some information from Him!! You know that!! Look at the vampire team, they have not located nor killed a vampire now in the last several weeks. I told them, I told them they needed to interrogate at least one of the vampires they were hunting and killing, but did they?? No!!! It's time Commander. We need to get an idea of just what we are up against. How many. Where. The last thing my Father needs is a full out war with these creatures. Do you understand??!!!!"

She was right, and he knew it.

"As long as you take the blade in your boot, and if you even think, suspect, that He knows what you are doing, you are to get the hell out of there. And, never venture in there without the cover of the Hunters waiting outside.!!!"

He paused.

"I think this may actually work. The more you know about your enemy, the easier it is to defeat that enemy."

"I'll start tonight. I think I will be able to get in and observe without being seen." Silk proceeded to tell the Commander about the secret door. She did NOT tell him she had already snuck inside. He would not have been happy about that.

"I will send 2 guards to watch the Club during the day"

It was not expected that much would happen during the day, but the Commander did not want to leave the Target totally unobserved.

Silk spent the majority of the day thinking, planning. And she got a little more sleep, this time without the benefit of dreams, thank goodness.

Once the sun slowly set, her mission began.

Dressed all in black, the dress she chose was simple, clinging to her every curve. No swirling gypsy skirt like last time. Silk wanted simple, comfortable, and dark colored. And, if she happened to be seen by anyone, one of the patrons perhaps, her simple attire at least fit in. Most of the Club goers wore black and none were of the flashy variety. Her long midnight black hair again pulled back, this time in a long pony tail that danced down her spine.

Black suede leather boots adorned her feet, affording her silence when she walked. Lastly, her blade, slid comfortably into her right boot.

Vanceur never, not even once, would tolerate insubordination or deceit of any kind. Once a liar, always a liar. Once a cheat, always a cheat! Coryana had cheated Him, cheated Him of time on the clock, cheated Him of devotion to her job! He was brutal, severe, and most unforgiving. It was the TerrorBeast, within that Coryana had unleashed, and not in the wolf form either. Vanceur's rage was unleashed on the blonde bartender. Her pale blue eyes after the torture whipping lost their shine and grew vacant. The kiss of the whip upon her flesh cutting distinct marks upon her figure. Lines across her back, her breasts, her ass, her sex, her thighs, her arms, her calves, her feet! Only her face was spared such indellible painful marks. Her pleas, turned screams, eventually faded leaving her a limp form hanging with barely any life.

Vanceur released the rag doll from her binds and watched as she fell lifeless to the floor. He reached down and entangled His fingers in her hair, twisting it around His fist until He had a firm grip. Dragging her by the hair, Coryana, still unconscious, was pulled across the dance floor, across the stone floor, and then down a series of stone steps, her knees, elbows and hips incurring further marks and bruises from the journey until they reached the cold, murky, dark bottom.

Slave remained in the shadows on the main floor. She dared not go down to the dungeons with Him, for that was sacred territory, and when one went down there, there was no pleasure, not even for Him! Rather, slave, the obedient, devoted one she was, fetched the whip from where He lay it. She gathered it up and curled it into a perfect spiral between her knees, and awaited His return.

There in the dark dungeon like basement, Vanceur pushed Coryana into a cage. The cage, no bigger than what a small dog would fit, was slammed shut on the bartender. A rusty padlock clamped close, locking her in a position where her knees were pressed to her chest, her head to her knees, and her arms folded as a pillow for her head. She'd not be able to move one bit when she regained consciousness. She'd be there, till He came for her again, and only He knew the answer to that.

Vanceur returned to slave, ordered her to return the whip to its location, and waited for her to rejoin His side. She did so with efficiency, quite surprised for the little bit of time He spent in the dungeons. He gathered her up, cloaked her in her garment and the two left in the midst of the rain and darkness to His lair. Vanceur had the distinct feel that someone was "watching" them, yet, even His keen sight spotted no beings.

She prepared His bed, waited for Him to sleep, then took her place at the foot of His bed. She curled up, content and satisfied, and slept well.

************************

The sun rose and crept well across the sky before Vanceur rose from His sleep. He had no purpose for the day, not any day. His time came when the sun traveled the underworld. The sun didn't bother Vanceur, for He had learned how to harness power even from the sun. His years and strength allowed Him that unique ability that many of His others did not. Yet, still, on many an occasion, He simply preferred to remain in the natural habitat of His darkness. His lair, dark, the light only from oil lamps flickering on the walls.

Slave had long awaken before Him, and tended to her chores and duties, preparing a wonderful meal for His benefit. He ate while in bed, and lounged with slave by His side, her body naked except for the collar, as he prescribed it always should be when in His lair.

They passed the entire time away, lounging, and talking about the previous night. It was the first He had spoken of it, but it was only in the terms of her discipline that He spoke. He told her she had done quite well, and was very impressed with her. He was acutely aware of the radiant glow upon her pale face.

When the night came, and it was time to leave for the Club once more, He picked out her outfit for the evening, as was the norm. Tonight, slave was dressed in shimmering green. Unlike yesterday's outfit, this onepiece showed a generous expanse of slave's pale flesh. The strapless sequined dress clung like it was painted on also, a common trait of slave's clothing. An abundant amount of cleavage was displayed, and the hem was barely below her naked crotch. If slave were to remain dignified tonight, she'd have to manage a precarius balance between tugging the form fitting dress down, and pulling the low-cut top, up!

Unlike the previous night, Vanceur and slave arrived early, where He informed the staff that Coryana would no longer work the bar. He spoke no more of her, and told His staff, nor should they! In her place, he introduced a new hire, an equally voluptuous, and enticing flaming red-haired vixen. The new girl was introduced as Cynnamon, and she was welcomed. Just prior to opening, He informed the staff to promote a 'special event' at midnight!

Vanceur retreated to His loft, while slave relegated herself to the performers' lounge, where she would prepare for her stage show.

Coryana

It was dark. Dark, damp, and so cold. It was the shivering that awakened her. The shivering and the pain. Pain she felt everywhere! Coryana slitted her eyes open. Mattered not, she could not see anything in the darkness anyways. She tried to move, her muscles cramping, begging, needing to be moved, stretched. But even the smallest movement was met with blinding pain, never mind the small fact that she could not move.

It took her several minutes for her numb mind to comprehend that she could not move, at all, not even to lift her head. It took several minutes more for her to comprehend that she was caged. It took mere seconds from that moment for her screaming to begin.

Screaming that could not be heard.

Screaming that lasted until her voice went hoarse, then finally, silent. All that was left was her shaking.

******************************************************
Slave

One may have thought that Slave, having been witnessed to what He did to Coryana the night prior, Slave did not know her name actually, one would have thought that Slave would be concerned, even worried, about the girl. Maybe even check on her.

No such thoughts crossed her mind. She knew, call it survival instint, that to think about venturing into the Dungeon, and than actually "doing" it, were tandamount to her death. It was that simple.

It was not a thought that crossed her conscious mind.

As she sat in the dancer's lounge, relaxing on the softness of the overstuffed sofa, the only thought that echoed in Slave's mind were, her performance to come that night. After the events of the night prior, Slave wanted to please, both the Customers, and her Master. She silently prayed that she would not be faced with One like that Female she had encountered.

The other thought that did creep into Slave's mind was the mention of a special event at midnight. She had no idea what that meant, or what that could be. A chill slid slowly down her spine, wondering if this special event involved her. But that chill disappated quickly. If it did, so be it. She was slave, and she would not question, nor think about, what He meant. Altho she could not deny that the thought did continue to nag at her.

******************************************************
Silk

The Guards made note of the Target leaving the Club, female in tow. One was sent to follow Him, at a safe distance of course, while the other remained at the Club. It was not fun work. In fact, most of the time it was downright miserable, except for the rewards afforded them upon the successful completion of another mission. The King's rewards were quite generous, involving use of several of his more beautiful slaves.

When Silk and the Commander arrived that night, after the Club had opened, they were informed of the movements of the Target.

"Both are back inside the Club"


"Listen, Commander, this survelleince is too important for us to take the chance of being discovered. No more guards. Instead, send a messenger home to my Father, inform Him of what is going on. Let the Guards have a couple of nights of reward. Meet back here, 4 nights from tonight. I will observe each night and should be able to give you a report on what I have seen by then. We can then take a night to make our plans, and spring the trap. I can, and will, make note of where His home lair is."

The Commander did not like the idea, but agree'd. The Hunters could use a break, and it would make them all the more motivated and effective to capture this particularly ellusive Target.

Silk agree'd to that.

The backdoor she had previously used was shut and locked tight, and after waiting for nearly 2 hours, Silk got the distinct impression that this was not a coincidence. She had to wonder if He had found out about the female bartender slipping out there for a little "nookie".

There was no way she could march in the front door again.

After alot of thought and observation, Silk managed to slip in amidst a large group that was entering. One thing she did do, having noticed that the majority of females that entered this Club were enslaved, and realizing that what made her perhaps stand out before was the fact that she herself was NOT wearing any collar, Silk had obtained from the Commander, a slender steel collar. It had no designation of ownership on it, that made it suspisious, but Silk had no intention of allowing anyone close enough to her to notice.

Once inside, she found the shadows once again. She would wait until the Club was in full swing, which it almost was, before looking around. From her current vantage point, she could not see Him.

"Maybe He is up in His lair" she whispered to herself, meaning His vantage point, wherever that may have been. She did not want Him to see her, so she dared not venture out into the Club itself.

One thing she did manage to do, unnoticed, was find that same hallway, and those same stairs. The music itself was too loud for her to hope to hear anything, so she did not approach the upstairs door at this point, not yet anyways. Instead, she found the secret door she had snuck in the night before. Using a slim peice of metal she had hidden in her other boot, she opened the door ever so slightly, and slipped the metal between the door strike/lock and the door frame, effectively keeping it from locking, even tho it shut. As long as this went undiscovered, she could sneak in later, and on other nights as well. Maybe even during the day, and get a look at that office she had heard Him in. That idea made her smile.

She then found a very quiet, very dark, corner, and waited.

On stage was that slave again, dancing. This time she was adorned in shimmering emerald. Silk watched intently, the girl certainly did know how to move, as she undulated across the lit stage.

*********************************************
Slave's Dance

Slave was lost in the music once again. Her dance this time was decidedly different than the one last night. Her mind filled with the images of her punishment, and the punishment of the blonde bartender, her dance told a story. Of course, not many in the room would understand.

But He would.

The music this night, for her dance, was strangely seductive, painting the air with low tones, heavy drums and throbbing base.

Slave actually smiles as she prowls to across the stage, beginning her dance, a dance telling of the kiss of the whip, the pain of the lash, the sting of leather as the whip touches, tastes, of her body, and her soul. She hums to herself, pausing, head bowed, arms down, standing poised with one foot slightly in front of the other. A picture of grace.

Lifting her head as the music softly begins to wind around her. Slave sways fluidly to the music, letting it entrance her with its seductive sound. She slides fingers along her lithe, inviting body, mimicking perhaps, the stoke of the whip, a sensuous caress from a weapon of pain and pleasure, knowing her Master often would show how gentle the whip could be, before striking with it. Moaning low, she draws the imagined whip up from her thighs to her lush breasts, the motion visibly ripening her nipples. As it reaches her parted lips, Slave kisses the whip, the one in her mind, and often the one in His hand when He choses to use it upon her.

Slave then brings her arms up in a graceful motion, body taunt and tall, curves outlined in the light, turning upon her toes, the emerald shift she wears whirls about her body, capturing her in its shimmering embrace.

Slave drops to her knees, the music still flowing around her. Every set of eyes in the Club are captivated, watching, witnessing. Slave falls forward, her body undulating, still moving to the music. A loud drumbeat, slave writhes, as if being struck by the whip, another deep pounding, she squirms again, and again, and again, the imagined whip tasting her, feeding from her.

Lifting to her feet once more, arms again up, fingers entwined. Arching, again, the whip strikes, tormenting her, caressing her, possessing her, as her body quivers, sways, held only by the chains of His eyes, as He watches.

She then dances across the stage, swirling, all seeing the marks she even now bares across her ass, marks of her punishment. She moves, swirls, twists, dances, until she falls to her knees, crawling, crawling across the floor, to Him, and only Him, offering her back, offering her ass, offering her body to His whip. Offering her soul.



Silk, could only stare as she watched from the darkness.

Vanceur tended to business in His loft, occasionally stopping to overlook the growing action going on beneath. His only distractions were thoughts of the night prior. That mysterious woman still plagued his mind. He would have really liked to watch slave service her in a manner that He was sure would have delighted Him, and His guests at the club. How anyone could refuse such an offer from Him, nevermind such an unselfish giving from slave, still seemed to haunt and boggle His mind.

Then there was slave! Ah, such a beautiful and obedient one was she. He truly had not expected her reaction from being refused. Her act alone, did not warrant any punishment, yet her pleading, and desiring, reminded Him of the devotion she had to not only Him, but to pleasing Him. She had pleased Him! Her begging was exactly as it should have been. Her tolerance and submission to Him during the ordeal was perfect. Slave had endured the beatings of the paddle, begged for more, and even when He had drawn the droplets of blood from her flesh, she cried glorious tears.

Vanceur licked His lips, recalling the taste of slave's blood as He licked it from her cuts. Slave had been such the perfect one for Him, He dreaded the day He might set her free. His hunger was too great, and He knew there might come a time, when the Beast within, would claim her, ravage her, and free her from her earthly, mortal bonds. He had done it before, many times over, only to catch and claim another devoted slave who would tend to Him, just as slave did.

Vanceur's thoughts slipped to the blonde haired, former employee, that lay crouched, cramped, and caged, deep below. He had spared her life last night, not something He was accustomed to doing. But Vanceur knew He needed her. He needed her so that He could use her. He needed her, to make a point to his other employees, and the patrons, that no one ... absolutely no one ... dared cross Him in any way.

The stranger had managed to cast doubt, last night! Many would have expected Vanceur, Himself, to come to slave's aid, and dispose of the female Himself. The aid of the other's was welcomed, but Vanceur was convinced, it cast doubt in others. Whether it was true, or not, He believed it to be true. That's all that mattered.

He was sure Coryana would be hoarse, cold to the bone, and nearly frozen in a comatose state when found. She would be unable to offer any resistance to the ordeal He had in store for her on this wonderful night. She would be the main event attraction for tonight. She would be put on display, for all to know her shame, punished publicly for her deeds. After that, He was sure, no one would doubt His power, nor His generosity.

His thoughts were interrupted by the faintest breeze of cool crisp night air, that seemed to blow across His flesh. He turned sharply towards the door, as if someone had opened it, yet no one was there. He wondered what had brought about that sudden chill, which was quickly replaced by the heat of the club once more? He was about to check out the source of the cool breeze when the distinctive roar of the crowd erupted.

The music that had ensued told Him that slave was doing her routine. He quickly gave up the nonsense investigation, in favor of looking down upon her dance from above. Slave had begun her dance routine and quickly captured the attention of every patron in the club. The sensual dance reminded Him of her actions from the night before, and He quickly grew enamored, knowing full well that the dance was devoted to Him. It was her way of, yet again, thanking Him for the attention He rained down upon Her the night before. Each undulatin mimicked her body's reaction to every kiss of his paddle. Vanceur could easily picture Himself on that stage, One with her, His paddle in hand, the kiss of leather to her flesh, punctuated by each distinctinve thud of the bass beat pounding through the speakers.

Her performance was so detailed that the patrons also knew of its meaning, many of the Masters, whispering into the ears of their slaves. They'd point and make sure that their slaves understood the meaning of the dance. He was sure that slave's dance would encourage many, if not all of the patrons to go home and recreate that scenario.

He was tempted to go down and hide among the shadows to watch her dance a little more closely. However, the view from above was much clearer than he'd be offered down below. Slave had commanded such a crowd that many were clamoring for a better view. It was only the mere thought of Coryana, that broke His attention from slave's dance for the briefest of moments. He scanned the bar and ensured all of the workers were accounted for before gazing back upon the mesmerizing dance.

Once the dance was finished, the crowd erupted into a loud roar, that deafened the music. Slave's face was blushed deliciously as she exited the area and back to her waiting room. It was only a few minutes that had passed since slave finished her dance. The dance floor was once again packed with patrons, and the liquor flowed generously. Vanceur was wearing a proud smile, confident that it was His one, who was truly the inspiring one.

A faint knocking came upon the door to His loft. Anyone else may not have even heard it over the deafening pounding of the music below, but He did. He glided effortlessly to the door and opened it. His eyes glowed as he looked down to the tiny emerald jewel that knelt, head bowed, awaiting His permission to enter.

He stepped to the side and allowed her to crawl to His feet where she worshipped Him. He closed the door behind her and let her continue lathing her tongue over his black leather boots till they shone. When she had pleased Him, He bent over, gently kissed her atop the head and then lifted her head. Without words, without comment, He pressed His crotch to her face.

As was expected of her, slave tended to Him, without the use of her hands. It had taken practice, and many errors, but slave had since become proficient in freeing Him with just the use of her teeth and lips. She maneuvered in haste, hurried to gain access to what she desired most. She wanted Him, to have Him, to take Him, and to most importantly please Him. So it was, right there at the door, she allowed Him to slide in and out of her mouth, relaxing as He pushed as deep as He wanted, granting Him access to her throat. She swallowed, her muscles milking His shaft.

Vanceur enjoyed the wonderful velvety softness of slave's mouth, using it at His will to bring Him to the point of explosion. Yet as the time drew near, He stopped! He pulled out, His long hard shaft, shining with her saliva. He raised slave to her feet and hurriedly lifted her tight dress to her waist, her sex, exposed, inflamed, and awaiting His further attention. He lifted her light frame and pressed her to the door as her legs wrapped around His waist. He entered her and took her with wild abandon and unbridled passion.

The knocking upon the door, their bodies slapping in rhythm to the music blaring below. There was not a care in the world as He thrust up and down, roughly pounding her against the heavy door. Lost in His lust and passion, He released and filled her without regards to her release. He had not granted her that privelege, but He had rewarded her with His seed.

Silk had watched the dance from her vantage point with the same rapt attention the other patrons had. The girl was good, there was not denying that. She had to wonder just how this girl came into contact with, and became the property of, the Lycan that Silk now hunted. The thought intrigued her. But it was not something she could dwell on. If she let herself become distracted, she would make a costly mistake, and that, she could not do.

Yet she could not get the image of the slave girl, and the dance, out of her mind. It was as if she were being whipped, punished, by her Master, yet He was no where in site. The way her body moved, as if she begged for the kiss of the whip, pleading with her Master.

The floor filling once more with writing bodies, and very loud music, Silk shook her head to chase away the thoughts that kept slipping within. She crept closer to that hallway, the one with the dark stairs that lead upwards. Her instincts telling her that the slave girl would be going up those very stairs, very shortly.

Her instincts paid off, and Silk watched as slave slowly ascended those stairs, lightly knocking upon the door at the top. Once it opened and closed again, she decided to take the chance and sneak up those same stairs. Was it her curiosity that got the best of her? She had no real "need" to listen to what was going on, she already knew, or thought she knew, what would be going on in that room. But Silk could not stop herself, and she ever so slowly crept up each one, until she was at the top, before that very door.

At first, she heard nothing, nothing over the deep thrum of the music below. There was no way she would ever hear anything thru that thick door, she told herself, and was about the slink back down the stairs, when she thought she heard a pounding. Heard? Or felt? Turning back to the door, Silk lay her hand on the surface, and could feel what was happening on the other side. The rhythmic pulses, the thudding almost in time to the music below, in and out, she could literally feel the slave's body being taken on the other side of the door, feel Him mating her, fucking her, possessing her. Silk could not pull herself away, feeling her own heart wildly beating in time to the thrusting against that door.


Slave's body, pinned against the hard surface of the door, pounding, thudding, as her Master pushed upwards and into her, rocking against that door. The music below waned for a moment, and all slave could hear was her own keening cries, and her Master's low grunts, mingling in unision, accented by the wet slapping of bodies, and the erotic sounds of His large cock thrusting in and out of her soaking, slick, heated, pussy.

No matter the music that now began again, Silk could now clearly hear what was going on. The music was nothing more than a nuisance in the distance. She could hear the girl's moaning cries, the Lycan's deeper groans, growls, and the pounding, the slamming against the door.

And that was exactly what He was doing, slamming into her. Slave throwing her head back and screaming, her nails ripping into the expensive silk shirt He was wearing, tearing as she clung to Him. When He exploded deep inside her, she felt the walls of her sex, spasming around Him, milking Him, drinking from Him, her body teetering on the abyss of her own climax, yet she managed to keep balance and not spiral down into that climax, if she did, He would be displeased. Very displeased.

Slave had done that once before. Shortly after He claimed her as His. She had released, orgasmed, climaxed, without His permission.

She did not want to relive that punishment again. Slave honestly did not think she would survive.

But, she had learned. She could hold her climax, and release on demand, even if standing in the middle of the club, alone, no stimulation, no touching, just a word from Him, and she would be writhing on the floor in the midst of a glorious orgasm.

She could hold back the flood of her orgasm, even as He spilled His own inside of her. It was a balance she could keep, barely.

Silk clearly heard the girl's begging cries of "Please.... MASTERRRRRRR ... PPPleaseeeeeeeee.. Ohhhhhhhhhhhh Godsssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss Master......... PPPPLEASEEEEEE!!!"

She was begging to cum, it dawned on Silk. Begging for the pleasure of climaxing. This made Silk step back. Just what kind of hold did He have over the slave girl?

Silk did not hear the answer. She quickly, nearly running, down the stairs and hiding again in the darkness. She was shaking, trembling, and....................... she was wet.

Soaking wet.

Satisfied and satiated, Vanceur disengaged from slave, happy that she hadn't fallen off the edge and climaxed. That would be something special He'd treat her with when the time was right! That was her reward. However, as He disengaged, His long hard cock, drooling with her wetness and His seed, was quickly engulfed and cleaned by slave, but not before some had dribbled to the hardwood floor between His feet. She dutifully cleaned every bit of His shaft and head, suckling every last droplet from Him, ensuring He was as clean as could be. It was only after he was cleaned and tucked back into his trousers, that slave lowered her head to the floor and cleaned it in the same manner. Her tongue lapped against the hard surface and licked up every bit of the precious seed, cleaning up the dirt that was also tracked onto the floor. It was a minor punishment for allowing His seed to make it to the floor.

What pleased Vanceur the most, was that He didn't have to say anything, or do anything to remind slave of her duties, obligations, or what He expected of her. Like lifelong lovers, she was able to read His thoughts and know of His needs. Repetition, training, discipline, and punishment had made her such the perfect companion. If He had wanted, He could punish slave for letting His seed touch the floor, and slave would gladly accept it, for she would know she held His attention. Yet, she had done well, and Vanceur had other plans for slave.

When slave was completed He brought her to her feet and led her to the wall that contained his varied assortment of tools. Slave knelt obediently, most assuredly expecting He'd use them on her. Her eyes only showed eagerness to please as she awaited His choice of instruments.

Vanceur looked over the instruments of torture and first picked out a riding crop, the wide black leather swath folded in half at the tip of the long thin switch. The handle was thick molded rubber grip, much like the size of His swollen cock. He swished the crop through the air, listening to it cut and snap against nothing, but right before slave's eyes, reminding her of the pain it can inflict. He lay the crop at her knees, her eyes focused on the black. He then chose something which frightened slave. He lay a silver spiked choking collar and a long leather leash with the riding crop.

Slave shivered at the sight; not necessarily because the choker was the kind that would puncture the skin if pulled tightly, but more so because if He placed it around her neck, as He had in the past, during her training, He'd have to take her most treasured item from her. Her collar! That one gift from Him that she most honored, the gift that told everyone, to whom she proudly belonged, the collar that held His diamond encrusted initial. She could not bear the pain that that image brought upon her. Tears were already welling in her eyes.

Vanceur then opened a special drawer and withdrew a most wicked looking vibrator, that slave had been introduced to on several occasions. There were two cocks attached to the base along with what looked like a long tongue. He had used this on slave before to train her on how NOT to climax. He lay this too on the floor with everything else He had picked out.

He was sure that slave thought these were to be used on her, but the midnight hour was soon approaching. It was time to prepare for the special event promoted by the staff.

"Gather them up and follow me!"

Vanceur never looked for slave's reaction, nor did he ensure that she was following. He knew the answers to that. He opened the heavy door and stepped out into the darkened hallway and stairwell.

He stopped dead in His tracks, His nose twitching uncontrollably. He smelled something; something different; something unique; something that didn't belong. He inhaled deeply and recalled the scent!

It was her! His eyes narrowed and he peered into the darkness! Her scent was thick, as if she had been right there, standing at His doorway. He followed the scent, down the stone stairs, very slowly. He followed it all the way to the main floor where He stopped and scanned the room! She was here! He knew the girl who had left her cloak behind was in the crowded room somewhere, but He could not pick her out among the crowd. The same girl who had made a mockery of His gift to her, dared to come back. Added to her scent was the distinct odor of arousal. Wherever she lay in hiding, He knew she was aroused, for His nose told Him so!

It was the DJ's announcement that the special midnight event was shortly at hand, that broke Vanceur of His search for the mysterious woman. He needed to prepare for the event. He traversed further down the steps and into the dungeons with slave close behind.

In the cold, damp, dark room, He pointed out the blonde bartender to slave. "She will be our entertainment tonite. I will help prepare her. Tonite, you, slave, shall be her master. You will lead her to the stage and offer her for every one of our guests' enjoyment. She will service Masters and slaves alike. It is up to you to ensure she performs well. It is also up to you to ensure she absolutely does NOT enjoy the pleasure of a climax."

Vanceur opened the cage and roughly pulled Coryana from its confines. Before she even had the chance to stretch her cramped limbs, He had placed the collar around her neck and snapped the leash to it. He handed the leash and the crop to slave, who stood there, somewhat confused. This was a new experience, a new test to her abilities. Vanceur then took the evil looking vibrator, and without the aid of any lubrication, worked both cocks into her holes. One went into Coryana's ass, the other into her pussy. He pushed them in as far as they would go until the rubbery tongue-like appendage was nestled against her clit.

Coryana, still in a daze, the sudden sense of freedom, people, and movement made her realize she was indeed alive, though she'd soon wish she wasn't. She was so cold and so rigid, that she could barely move despite the intrusion. However, when Vanceur turned on the device, Coryana immediately came to life, as if He had switched her body itself on!

He turned back to slave and kissed her passionately on the lips. "Remember! She is not to climax, and she is to properly service EVERYONE! If you do well you will be rewarded. Fail, and you will be punished severely! Now let's go, the crowd awaits!"

Coryana could not wrap her mind around what was happening. She had thought she were dead, lying in the cold darkness, trapped, captured, imprisoned in that cage. She had screamed, cried, begged, no one heard. No one came to help her.

This was hell, she thought, sobbing.

When the door slammed open, the blonde barely moved. She was whimpering, but other than that, one would think she were dead.

Slave, on the other hand, knew exactly what was going on, her Master had just explained it to her.


"She will be our entertainment tonite. I will help prepare her. Tonite, you, slave, shall be her master. You will lead her to the stage and offer her for every one of our guests' enjoyment. She will service Masters and slaves alike. It is up to you to ensure she performs well. It is also up to you to ensure she absolutely does NOT enjoy the pleasure of a climax."

If Slave had been allowed, she would have stared at her Master in disbelief.

It was not the fact that He was giving her dominion over the girl, Slave thought she could handle that. It was not that she had issues offering the girl for all to use. Slave knew she could handle that. But, what frightened Slave was the fact that she would be responsible for preventing the girl from climaxing. Her mind reeling, how could she possibly do that? Wildly, Slave thought back to how He had trained her. It had involved pain, punishment, fear, and ultimately, reward, for climaxing ONLY on command and at no other time, no matter what He were doing to her. How could, or would she, prevent the Blonde girl from orgasming when being stimulated, when being licked, fingered, fucked?

She could not question His command. That much Slave knew for a fact.

Her thoughts, wildly twisting in her mind, were interrupted by His kiss, passionate, possessive, His tongue thrusting deeply, met by her own, a low moan rippling past her own, and His, lips.

"Remember! She is not to climax, and she is to properly service EVERYONE! If you do well you will be rewarded. Fail, and you will be punished severely! Now let's go, the crowd awaits!"

Slave was not the only one moaning. Coryana had awakened, her body shuddering, as the vibrator within her whirred to life. She was shivering cold, but it took only a few minutes, despite her confusion and fear, for her body to begin to warm, the sensation slowly snaking thru her, the heat like a lava flow that began to consume her. It was slow, a very slow process, at least at the moment, considering the shape she was in when yanked from the cage.

They emerged on stage, Slave and the leashed Coryana. The lights were bright, and Coryana tried to turn away, she struggling and squirming in her chains. It took her many minutes to realize she was standing on stage, naked, the vibrator still inside her, a leash leading to another girl, one her numbed mind tried to comprehend, tried to remember.

Slave, was also naked, but she cared not that she was. She had long ago stopped thinking about that small fact. Another product of His brutal training.

The music had stopped. The crowd gathered around in anticipation. Already, many of the Men were oooooing and ahhhing over the naked blonde, having recognized her as being the newer blonde Bartender. The majority of the crowd were regulars after all.

Back in the shadows, Silk watched, her eyes wide. What was happening? It took her a moment to realize that was the blonde she had seen fucking some random guy in the alley. What was going on? Was this some kind of show? Silk could already tell that the blonde was NOT participating willingly, at all.

Where was He?

Scanning the crowd, she tried to search Him out, but her attention was drawn back to the stage when Slave began speaking.

"Masters" she began.

"This slave is being offered for Your enjoyment, enjoyment of both Master and slave, if You so desire. She may be used anally, You may take her pussy, You may enjoy her mouth, nipples, breasts. She can be used one at a time, or several, if You so desire. Hands, fingers, mouths, tongues, toys, cocks, may all be used. Rest assured she will be cleaned after each use. Master would never allow Others to use a filthy slave" There already was a bucket of warm water on stage.

"Currently" Slave yanked on the leash, bringing a mournful sound from the girl, Slave turning her around, showing her bared ass to the crowd. Yanking downwards, she forcing the girl to bend over, showing all that currently, she was filled with a vibrator, whirring away. "You can see she is being stimulated with a vibrator. Master has chosen that this vibrator can be used on her."

Slave did not mention that the girl was not to orgasm. She knew that was soully her responsibility, and if she had said anything, He would have punished her just as if the girl had cum. Slave knew the riding crop was for her to prevent Coryana from climaxing. She was to use pain and humiliation, to prevent the girl from cumming.

She pulled Coryana close, hissing in her ear. "Listen to me, you slut. You will service ANY who desire to use you. You will not complain, You will not refuse, You will NOT climax. Do you understand"


She did not wait for an answer, for already several Masters, a couple with their slaves, were ascending the stage steps.

It was going to be a long night for Coryana, and an even longer one for Slave.

Early on, it was fairly easy. Coryana was too horrified at what was happening to even come close to orgasming. And, the Men using her, the ones who had come forth first, were the more, uncouth shall we say, of the bunch. They were interested in fucking, and getting off. Nothing more.

Silk watched it all, enthralled, yet sickened by what she was seeing. But she could not tear her eyes away.

As the time began to pass, Coryana's body was beginning to respond. At this very moment, she was on her back on the stage, a slave girl between her legs, feverishly licking at the Coryana's pussy, while she herself is being fucked from behind by her Master. Coryana was moaning, the slave girl's soft tongue was the first thing she had felt since this ordeal began, that was soft, soothing, warm, and arousing. It was the first time she had been subjected to being licked. The others before had only wanted to fuck. Remember, uncouth!!

Slave was standing back, raptly watching, still holding the leash. She herself was soaking wet, feeling the thick droplets sliding down her inner thighs as she stood there. She had always loved it when her Master feasted on her this way.

The girl was moaning, licking, her tongue lapping within the deeply pink folds, dipping within, then caressing the clit. Coryana was crying out, eyes closing, her hips rocking from the floor to the slave girl's mouth. Slave's eyes widened as she realized Coryana was unable to control herself. She would cum any moment if she did not stop her. A vicious yank of the leash, and Coryana screamed out in pain, her body tensing, shuddering, yet the girl did not stop licking and the Master did not stop fucking. But Slave knew she had stopped the inevitable at least this time. Coryana's tensed body told her that.

This scenario happened several times. And each time, Slave was able to prevent her from climaxing. Altho, truth be told, Slave was exhausted, and Coryana was almost beyond exhausted, begging not to be used again, begging for mercy. But there were more, it was not over, and the crowd was loving it.

Silk was shivering herself, wrapping her arms about her body. That poor girl, she thought to herself as yet another Master mounted her, Coryana having been washed clean yet again, and began fucking her. He had her on her hands and knees, as He fucked her, first using her pussy, but then moving to her ass. That was quite alot tighter than the girl's well used pussy was. Coryana screamed yet again as she was raped in the ass. Slave watched as the large Master, a real brute of a guy at least in size, drove His length, slicked with her pussy fluids, deep into the tightness of her ass. He grunting in approval. Reaching around her as He pounded into her, His thick fingers found her slit, and began massaging her, finding her so tender clit once more.

Slave had managed to halt the girl from cumming every other time, using the leash and the spiked collar, and the riding crop, altho she was not nearly as proficient at it as her Master was. But she had kept the girl from cumming, without impedeing the pleasures of those using her.

Til now.......................

Coryana screamed, her body went taut, shuddering suddenly as the climax gripped her, shaking her to her very core. She flooded the Master's fingers with her spilling juices, He laughing triumphantly. The crowd applauding and cheering. They had no idea that Slave was supposed to prevent that. They had no idea at all.

Slave's eyes went wide, she going completely white.

Silk saw the slave girl go pale. She could see the terror that colored her eyes, altho she did not know the reason for it either.

As soon as Coryana had cum, Slave fell to her knees, dropping her head to the floor, baring her back, awaiting Him.

She was trembling.

The others, honestly, did not take that much notice, too wrapped up in the spetacle of raping the offered Coryana. Slave still had an iron grip on the leash tho.

Vanceur watched from the shadows with rapt interest as slave led Coryana to the stage. The look upon the patrons' faces was priceless. He took even greater joy noting how the staff looked on with wide eyes, seeing the bartender they were told would no longer be working there, being led naked onto the stage. They pointed and whispered to each other, all of them knowing their fate if they dared cross Him in any manner. He spared no one!

As slave announced the entertainment, He expected the initial wave of horny goats to bully their way to the front of the line, in effort to get first cracks at the piece of captured meat. Vanceur took great pleasure in witnessing the look of horror and disgust on Coryana's face as she struggled through the first several attackers. Then the inevitable transformation began to take place. Coryana's body began to betray her mind. Her body was responding favorably to the mass rape, especially when the lovely brunette slave began licking and lapping at her pussy. Coryana was awakening to pleasure despite the humiliation, and that's when the pain was introduced. The simple tug on the leash was enough to cause the pointed prongs to poke against her tender flesh, choking and threatening to puncture, Coryana's waves of pleasure quickly ebbed, only to build for a future crash. Time and time again, each wave was abated by either the poking, choking collar, or the smart crack of the riding crop to her flesh. Coryana's cries of pain were often muffled by the gag of a long thick cock.

But, much like a tsunami, Coryana was not about to be denied. The earthquake that had erupted from deep within, had caused a tiny ripple in the ocean. The ripple magnified as it grew outwards from its core until its waves were stronger than anything she'd ever known before. Despite the choker, despite the snapping painful swats from the riding crop, Coryana exploded in the most mind-numbing, body explosion climaxes of her lifetime. Her fluids spurted and flowed freely upon the triumphant Master who had induced it.

Vanceur knew deep inside that slave would probably fail her task, just as she had failed during her first trial with pleasure and pain. No one had ever succeeded restraining from release on their first experience. The body just didn't know that pain and pleasure could be mixed, and the overload of sensations coursing through the body were too much for one to endure on their first trial. Slave should have known there was no way she'd succeed! He thought she knew it too!

So, when it did happen, He was thrilled to see her reaction! She knelt, just as Coryana was, awaiting her own punishment, the punishment that only He could deliver. She knew it'd be severe, because he had warned her it would be. It was time for Him to now deliver on His promise.

He glided, much like the wind, directly to the stage area, seemingly out of nowhere, because all eyes were on the stage. His dark cloak was pulled over his head, his face hidden, only his red eyes barely visible. Though many were unconcerned with slave's actions and more focused on Coryana, when He came to the stage, all went immediately quiet! Even the music came to an abrupt end.

Strong hands appeared from beneath the cloak and raised up till they reached the hood. Pulling the hood back, a rugged face appeared. His beard and mustache were trimmed to perfection, and the long mane of black hair flowed down. He had garnered everyone's attention.

"My dear guests!" His voice bellowed in the room without the aid of any speakers. His voice louder than the music had ever been. "Continue as you will with Coryana, each and every one of you, I command it. As you have seen, slave has failed in keeping Coryana true. So, from this point forward, every time our horny bartender slut cums, slave will be punished. We have also run out of bathing water, so slave will clean Coryana with her tongue! Now let the party resume!"

Vanceur retrieved the crop and started swatting freely upon slaves ass. He christened the white flesh and moved to her thighs, never stopping until Coryana came again, and required her first cleaning from slave. Since He was raining all the swats down upon slave, Coryana was freed to release at will without restraint, which she clearly did, earning slave more brutal beatings upon her flesh. When slave moved to clean Coryana's pussy and ass of the semen deposited there, Coryana came yet again and again from the gentle lapping and suckling slave used to clean her. It was a nonending vicious cycle that continued through the night and well past when the club should have closed.

Little by little, Masters were dragging their slaves out the door, weak-kneed and wobbling, too tired, and unable to enjoy the entertainment any further. Slave was covered from neck to toe in red splotches from where the crop had landed, tears staining her face, yet she endured. Coryana, on the other hand, had given slave some reprieve, only because she was so tired, she could no longer find pleasure, her sex, now so raw, tender, and inflamed, that any contact was pure pain. Yet she had no option but to endure. Vanceur was making sure that every patron was taking their turn with Coryana. Yet as the crowd thinned out, there was one he had not yet seen on the stage with her. He knew she was here. He had smelled her scent! He should be able to spot her shortly, for there were less faces to hide among. As he was punishing slave, he scanned the room, looking for her.

He was prepared to share Coryana with the bartenders and the rest of the staff once all the patrons had left. It would be the ultimate end to her embarrassing torture.

Slave had endured little worse than what He had rained down upon her this night. She had failed Him, she deserved what she got. But the pain, and humiliation were getting to her, she was sobbing, crying, trying to stay steady, yet her entire body felt as if on fire, the pain unrelenting, burning, biting, tearing into her.

By the time the night waned, both girls were on stage, sobbing nearly uncontrollably.

Coryana could no longer scream, her voice long since gone hoarse, then ultimately silent. Each time she were again raped, whether it was in the pussy or ass, her mouth opened in those silent, chilling screams. Silk, still watching as the Club slowly began to empty out, thought it surely was one of the most haunting scenes she had ever witnessed. She had seen her Father punish slaves before. She had know her Father to rape a female prisoner before, usually as punishment, before enslaving said prisoner.

But Silk had never seen anything quite like what she was still watching on that stage. She was shaking, shivering so deeply, that even wrapping her arms about herself did not still that trembling.

Silk began to think that she may be in over her head. That she could not handle this particular mission. That if she were caught in there, caught by Him, the Beast that she could clearly see on that stage, even tho the others still only saw a Man, she would be slaughtered. But not before He............

He did.....................

He did what?

Enslave her???????????

Rape her?????????

She fell back against the wall at that thought, her golden eyes going very wide.

She had not thought of that. At one point she had contemplated being *sold* to Him, so she could get closer to Him, to facilitate His capture, and she was suddenly very very glad that she had not carried out that particular plan. She had no idea, until now, just what she was dealing with.

Silk began to wonder if capturing this particular Lycan was even feasable. He was dangerous. No, He was lethal. Deadly. But she could not change the plan now. Her Father had been informed, He would be expecting her to carry out the capture and lead the interrogation. Or at least oversee it.

"I can do this" she whispered to herself as Coryana again, on the stage, tensed, writhed, shook, with yet another orgasm, the Master having initiated it smiling. It had been an interesting coupling this particular time, the Master, a huge man, a blacksmith by trade, having lifted the slight blonde captive upside down, draping her legs over His shoulders so He could feast on her pussy, her mouth being filled with the vibrator that had begun the whole event, that being thrust in and out of her mouth by Slave, as the Lycan Beast beat her with the riding crop.

"I can do this" Silk repeated, watching both girls collapse into crying heaps once again.

The Club was nearly empty. The last few patrons waiting to take their turn, Coryana already sucking off the next in line, while Slave cleaned her once more, licking and crying at the same time.

"I gotta get out of here" Silk said to herself, beginning to slowly glide along the wall, careful to stay in the darkness, the shadows, careful to not attract any attention.

She would have to use the main door. The Club itself had emptied out too much for her to effectively try and sneak out her chosen way, that back secret door. Surely someone would see her sneaking in there. She would have to use the main door and hope no one questions her, or better yet, that no one notices her.

Truth be told, even the Masters leaving, were too enthralled with what was happening still on the stage to look away, or notice a quiet, unassuming girl such as Silk, slipping out the door.

"Almost" she whispered to herself, getting closer. She would have to be more careful next time, and sneak out before the Club got this *quiet*.

"Almost" Silk would have to step out of the shadows for the last several feet to get to the door. She would be easily visible from the stage, if He were looking that is. She peering up what was happening, He, at the moment, was not looking, instead focusing on Slave, who had lain at His feet, begging His mercy.

"ppplease Master...mercy"

Silk took that step, into the dim illumination of light, dim as it was, it was still not the shadows.

She froze, mid step, feeling His eyes lock on her. Slowly, she turned, meeting His gaze, her golden eyes finding His fire-licked stare. For that moment, the entire room felt empty, cold. She saw no one but Him. Felt no one but Him.

Then she was gone, finally finding her feet and dashing from the Club. She had to run. He had seen her.

Vanceur had kept involved in the punishment of slave during the performance. Her behavior was extraordinary, her tears were real, the shame and embarrassment were heavy upon her. His beatings were harsh, but precise. Her crimson flesh was aflame, tiny welts of raised bumps adorned her body. She cried and begged. Begged! She had begged so much it was no longer clear what she was begging for.

One by one, and two by two, the patrons were leaving, satisfied, satiated, and sexually stimulated. It was hard to pull ones eyes from the scene. It was truly a special event that the club would rarely hold again. Rumors had abounded about the sexual hijinks, but only on very rare occasions had they been availed to everyone. Usually only the VIP's and the elite were privvy to such occasions.

It was as the crowd was quite thin, when slave was grovelling at His feet. His eyes were drawn down, when suddenly he felt a strong presence in the room, something that hadn't been felt before. A breeze blowing his way brought that unique scent once more to his nostrils. Even through the thick smell of sex and perspiration, He could still distinguish that unique scent that had plagued Him. He raised his eyes, and there she was!

His eyes flared wide, then immediately narrowed. The red glow formed around the perimeter as the flickering flame danced in his pupils. The one who had created a stir the night before, was there once again. Their eyes locked, no movement by either. He reached for her mind, her soul, within the dark mysterious pools. She was strong, but He had gained entry.

"Come to me," He had told her without moving His mouth, nor uttering a sound. He could feel her teetering, fighting the urge to fall forward and stumble towards Him. And then she moved!

But she had run the other way! She stumbled awkwardly toward the door and ran out of the club. Vanceur drew in a deep breath, once more the rage within slowly building, growing further out of control. Not only had she dared to show again, but she had disgraced Him again. She had not participated in the ordeal as He had commanded everyone to do. If others had not been present, waiting their turn, He'd surely chase after her and get to the root of her issues.

As the others took their turn with Coryana, Vanceur simmered, taking His rage out on slave, whipping her buttocks and thighs harder than he had all night long. He didn't mean to, but He did, and she took it, every single swat upon her bruised flesh. Right up until the last patron had left, His mind was consumed with thoughts of the other girl. Why was she there? Why had she come back? Why had she not participated? Why was her will so strong that He could not capture her mind? Why was He becoming obsessed with her?

Coryana was now servicing the staff of the club. The bouncers took great delight in raping the nearly unconscious bartender, who previously thought she was too good for their brutish likes. They took her two, and then three at a time, making it doubly hard on slave, who paid for the orgasms, and was forced to clean the wet rag doll. The bartenders took their turns, one by one, enjoying taunting the one who had abandoned her post, the night before. As each of the staff finished their chores, they were then permitted to use and enjoy Coryana to their benefit. Then they left.

This continued until the last employee remained. It was Cynnamon, the red haired beauty that had taken Coryana's place, the newest of them all. Vanceur was pleased to see her approach the stage, but what seemed to please Him more, was the manner in which she approached, her walk very confident, her stride, purposeful and proud. She fisted Coryana's hair and twisted it painfully till her face was contorted from the pain. With the other hand she removed her wrap around skirt, revealing her shaved, baby smooth sex, already glistening with anticipation. Cynnamon pulled Coryana's face to her sex and pressed her mouth and nose tightly against her waiting pussy. Cynnamon pulled up, dragging Coryana's nose through her folds, parting her lips till they were opened fully, her flower in full bloom. Up and down Cynnamon dragged Coryana's nose until her tongue slipped out to start tending to her sex. Cynnamon cooed in delight while suffocating her partner.

Vanceur watched with rapt interest as the red haired vixen took control of the slut, using her for her own pleasure, not concerned with giving her any pleasure. Slave benefitted for she was no longer receiving whippings from Him for Coryana's orgasms. Both watched as Cynnamon offered Coryana only brief opportunities to gasp for air before clutching her tightly, once again to her sex. And once Cynnamon forced Coryana into a pleasureable rhythm, she looked up, catching the eyes of Him. She neither blinked, nor looked away, her green eyes, thinning as her pupils dilated. Their eyes fixed upon each other, she welcomed Vanceur into her soul.

Instantly, Vanceur knew her, of her, and her fate. Yet He did not pursue her, for His mission was not complete. He remained still and watched as Cynnamon reached her free hand inside her tight fitting top and freed her bountiful assets, lifting them alternately so that her long red tongue could tease its tips into hardness. Her eyes, only breaking contact with His to roll back in her head, as the tiny tremors of an orgasm rippled through her body, would then refocus, giving Him insight to her body's, and mind's pleasure.

Cynnamon's actions had ebbed His anger and rage over the mysterious woman, though that fire also burned deeply. And it wasn't until Cynnamon exploded in a glorious climax, and left the three of them alone in the club that the anger resumed. His anger multiplied, for there were three women that had failed him! Coryana lay exhausted, heaving for air. Her body was matted, stained, bruised, and covered in sweat! Slave still knelt with her head pressed to the floor, a puddle of tears surrounding her welted, bruised, crimson flesh. She too was exhausted and gasping for air, even though He had not even touched her during Cynnamon's turn at Coryana. The stranger, whom he knew nothing about, angered him the most!

As the rage within built, the TerrorBeast began to come out. Alone, without the presence of outsiders, Vanceur allowed the transformation to take place, His anger beyond control. As the muscles began to ripple, His clothes grew tight and soon split, shredding into tattered cloths. His face contorted into the strange shape as the thick grey fur covered His flesh. His teeth grew long and sharp as His hands and feet morphed into mighty paws, his nails into razor sharp claws. There for both women to witness, the TerrorBeast was with them. He let out a mighty howl that deafened them within the confines of the club.

Slave had seen Him before. It was He who had claimed her, transformed her, His mark upon her, making her who she is today. Even so, she still cowered in fear of what the Beast was capable of doing. She knew not if the time had come for her release? She fretted as the tears began anew, flooding her eyes, blurring her vision. Surely He could kill her if He wished, and she hoped it would be quick and without pain, if she were to die for her failures. She had failed Him, and she prepared herself for His wrath.

Yet He did not move towards her. Rather, the leash to Coryana, caught within his paws was tugged and snapped sharply. Coryana was pulled up to her hands and knees, the choker biting sharply into her throat. The sharp toothed prongs of the collar had successfully broken the skin and dug into the meat of her being. The blood began to pool around each puncture point trying to seep out beyond the juncture of flesh to steel. The Beast's sexual organ had appeared from it's furry sheath, long, hard and very thick. He mounted the helpless slut, His cock slipping into her abused hole, instantly filling it, stretching it more than it had been all night long. The scream from her lungs was cut off by the choker, and it only made the blood seep out in greater volume, now evidenced by the tiny rivulets trailing from each puncture wound. He rutted the poor girl ruthlessly, rapidly driving his entire length into her with great force, literally ripping her insides apart. His hips thrust hard in such a blur, a bump forming at the base of His shaft. The knot grew and grew, trapped within Coryana's pussy, larger than a fist, stretching her insides incredibly so, until His howl deafened her once again. The searing burning hot insides filled her tiny frame, yet He continued, the knot so large, trapped within. Over and over He kept flooding her.

He had been flooding her pussy for nearly an hour. Each release resulting in the knot shrinking a bit until finally He was rutting her flooded pussy sloshing his long cock through the mess frothing out from her insides, mixed with the blood from within. The grip of the choker on her throat, had tightened and loosened with each release of His seed, its teeth buried nearly a half inch into her throat. Blood pooled upon the floor beneath her. When He had finally finished with her, she fell in a heap amongst her blood and his seed.

She was still alive ... for now ... barely. If she survived, she'd be nothing but a shell, a soulless shell of a being. If she died, He did not care, for she had betrayed Him.

The Beast had not shown signs of easing though. His teeth bared, saliva dripping and drooling from his exposed fangs. His eyes focused on slave and he growled. He lunged towards her ...

Surprisingly though, he leaped over her and bounded towards the door, busting it open, ripping the locks through the frame. He was out in the streets, out in the darkness of the night. His nose immediately caught her scent. Staying in the darkness, but moving with great speed, He followed the scent of the stranger through the winding city streets. In no time, He had tracked her to the small inn!

Even though He was still in the form of the Beast, He had enough sense to evaluate the situation. Rather than barging into the inn and possibly exposing the Beast to many in search of one, he scaled the brick walls of a nearby building. In the sanctity of the rooftop across the street, His eyes focused on the rooms till they settled upon the partly open windows of one room, the curtains billowing in the light breeze that flowed. Her peered from the ledge of the rooftop, trying to make mental contact with the sleeping patron of the inn.

Coryana was unconscious. It was a wonder the girl was still alive, for that matter, but in truth, that would not be for much longer. Her use that night, after a beating by Him the night prior, had taken what life, and what mind, she had, and simply used it up. As she lay on that stage floor, barely breathing, her mind was hanging by the slimmest of threads, it was all that kept her alive at this point.

Slave had seen His anger, His rage, His disappointment, before, altho this particular example had been especially hard to watch, and participate in. Her own body shook, she herself near collapse from the punishment she had endured. Slave had no more tears at this point, the pain from her punishment still burning thru her, to move only brought yet another wave of that same pain. She could only pant for air, her body tensed, wondering if He were finished, or would more follow. Silently, Slave prayed that His anger, and His disappointment in her had been satiated. Blood laced down her skin, staining the floor beneath where she knelt.

Exhausted as she was tho, Slave knew the instant His transformation began. Whimpering, Slave managed to get herself into the corner, against the wall, curling up. She stayed stilled, knowing there was no escape from the Beast once He had emerged. Would He seek her? Would He tear her apart? Would this be her ultimate punishment for disobeying His orders, for allowing Coryana to climax???

But it would not be her this night to suffer the ultimate punishment.

It would be Coryana.

Slave had seen the TerrorBeast, had survived His rape of her, survived His marking of her, Survived His mating of her. But she could not watch His brutal attack on Coryana. She closed her eyes, turning her head away, weeping almost silently as He mounted and took the girl.

It would be Coryana's scream, as He pounded into her, over and over again, her screaming only escalating, that would haunt Slave well into that night.

Slave could smell the fresh blood, even tho she was nothing more than human, and between that and the screams, mingled with the growls of her Master, Slave wondered if she were in hell. Each cry making Slave quake violently, each deep throated howl making her pray for mercy for herself, that He would not seek to attack her next.

Slave heard Coryana's last gurgling cry, and turned to look. He had finished with her, and she was convulsing violently on the floor at His feet. That thin shred holding Coryana to this life had severed, it would only be moments before her life ended.

And Slave thought the same thing, staring at her Master, His crimson, blood red eyes focusing in her for that moment, He growling and lunging toward her. Slave managed to keep the scream silent that almost ripped past her lips, her eyes wide, begging for His mercy without benefit of words.

And, mercy was granted, for He leapt over her, and a moment later, the door slamming shut behind Him, He was gone.

Hunting, Slave thought to herself as she finally let herself fall to the floor, still shaking. She allowed herself only a few moments to compose herself, before sitting up and looking at the now silent, stilled body of Coryana. Slave knew she had to work to clean the place up, and to dispose of the body.

She had done it before. She could do it again.

*****************

Silk, did not stop running until well away from the Club. In fact, not until she reached the Inn.

His eyes boring into her, she had felt something, felt Him, going beyond just her gaze, seeking to go deeper. And, she had heard Him. His voice as crystal clear as if He had been standing next to her, whispering in her ear. "Come to Me"! Had He heard her forceful answer within her mind? "NO!" She had yelled out that answer, to herself, using it to drive Him back, using it as a weapon. "NO!"

She burst through the Inn's door, attracting the attention of the InnKeeper and several of the attached Tavern's patrons. Taking a deep breath, she managed to calm herself down and offer a brief smile. She offered no explanation tho. After asking that some soup and bread be brought up to her room, she disappeared up the stairs, still feeling the quizical looks of the patrons at her back.

Once in her room, Silk stripped down, washed herself clean, for some reason she felt quite dirty from what she had witnessed, and wrapped her soft robe about her body. The light rap on the door announced the arrival of her soup and bread.

She ate some, but very little. Her mind kept going back to that moment, that moment of eye contact. That moment of feeling Him, inside her mind. It had spooked her, scared her, badly.

"I need some sleep" she murmured to herself, pushing the remaining soup and bread aside. The bed felt good, welcoming and soft as she curled up under the blankets. She wondered if she would be able to sleep. Or would thoughts, chilling, haunting thoughts, keep her awake. That question was answered several minutes later when she indeed did fall asleep.

She had left the window open to allow in the cool night breeze. Little did she know it would let in something far more sinister.

Silk quickly entered the world of dreams. It was a world she knew well. She dreamed often. But tonight's dream was decidedly different. She shivered under the blankets of the bed, shivering to a chill she felt only in the dream.

She awoke, at least in the dream she did, in reality, she was still quite asleep, peering around the room. It was not the Inn room she had been living in the past fortnight or more. No, this was her room, her suite of rooms at home, in her Father's Keep. Sitting up, Silk blinked, trying to understand how she had gotten back here? Why was she here? She was still hunting Lycans.............

Still hunting Lycans.

A moment later, and she was in the middle of her room, how had she gotten there? She didn't even remember getting out of bed. And, she was naked, nipples aching and darkening from the cool breeze that filled the room, she feeling that same breeze licking between her legs, her sex exposed, bared, for any to see. Any? Who would see? This was her room. But still, Silk stepped back, arms coming up, as if the hide herself from the gaze of another.

Stepping back.... her back coming to rest against the steel bars of a cage. Her breath caught. Who had caged her? In her own room? Silk thought to shiver, but realized those bars were not cold, despite the cold breeze that dominated her room. Those bars were warm, almost a heated, comforting warm. Confused, Silk looked wildly around. What was going on? The warmth from steel bars, that now surrounded her, radiated over her. Warm and soft, almost protective.

But she could not get out of the cage.

Not did she want to, once she saw HIM outside the cage, circling, growling, the TerrorBeast, in full Lycan form. He was growling, seeking entrance, seeking to get to her. He would reach in, talon tipped claws tearing into the air, trying to get to her. When that did not work, He tried whispering to her, standing near the cage, deep, dark voice, "Come to Me, Silk, surrender to Me, submit to Me"


Silk shaking her head. "NO" the warmth would push out toward Him, trying to push Him away, but not succeeding. And instead, as the heat tried to push out, the bars would widen, would it allow Him in??????

Silk thrashed in the bed, shaking her head No, but the word would not escape her lips, not until she awakened, covered in sweat. Getting to her feet, she stood, walking to the open window, seeking some fresh air. "Nightmare" she said to herself as she stood there, the pale white shift she had put on to sleep in clinging to her every curve, wet from her sweating, twisted from her thrashing, her breasts highlighted in that pale ivory, dark nipples beneath clearly visable, her slender frame trembling ever so slightly.

After staring out into the darkness for a while, Silk splashed some cool water on her face, and got back into bed.

She immediately went back into a dream, again surrounded by the warmth, but this time no cage. This time she was laying on her bed, her own bed once again, the warmth parting, as if letting Someone in. A darkness looming over her, "I will claim you this night" came that voice again, His voice. He appearing over her, pinning her, "Let me in".

She tried to scream the word NO, tried to, but was silenced by His kiss.

Silk woke up gasping, shaking.

She was unable to sleep the rest of the night.