new orleans

Chelsea had spent the last four weeks getting settled into a routine with her vampire lover’s twin boys. She’d been hired as their nanny, and almost immediately realized her attraction to her employer, Germaine. He’d revealed himself to be a vampire during their first lovemaking session and since that fateful Halloween night they’d been getting to know one another on an even deeper level. They’d been able to keep up appearances for Germaine’s twin sons, Levi and Lincoln, and even Chelsea’s own family—her brother, his wife, and their son had been frequent visitors to Germaine’s palatial country estate.

“I’m tired of sneaking around, Chelsea.”

Chelsea tied the belt of her fluffy red robe and turned before she opened Germaine’s bedroom door. She rubbed her eyes and looked at the clock—4:27am—then crossed the room and crawled back into Germaine’s bed. She sighed heavily. “Me too.”

“So let’s just put it out there in the open,” Germaine said, pulling Chelsea against him and kissing her temple, “The boys won’t mind, Giselle’s probably already gotten it figured out—hell, even Chad and Sabrina must know something is going on between us. Max asked me when I was going to marry you the last time he was over.”

Chelsea laughed at that. It was just like her nephew to be that blunt. Max had been asking for a cousin since he could talk. He’d been thrilled when she’d invited him over to play with the twins. And she knew her brother wasn’t stupid. It was hard to hide the connection she and Germaine felt.

“You’re right, I know you are Germaine. I just, I don’t know…”

“What don’t you know, Chelsea?”

Chelsea sat up so she could look at Germaine. “I don’t know what we’d be putting out in the open? That we’re fucking? Oh, that’d be a nice addition to a Christmas card: ‘Happy Holidays from the DuBois/Willows. By the way, we’re just fucking, FYI!’”

Germaine rolled his eyes. “We’re not just fucking, Chels.”

“Well, so you want to announce that you’re my boyfriend?”

“Well,” Germaine said, laughing, “That’s a start, right?”

Chelsea hit him with a pillow. My vampire boyfriend, she thought to herself. I’m falling in love with my vampire boyfriend, and he’s making jokes.

When Germaine grabbed the pillow, he looked up at Chelsea, ready to retaliate, but saw her on the verge of tears. He pushed the pillow to the side and pulled her into his arms. “Baby, what’s wrong? Don’t cry.”

She wiped her eyes and pulled away. “I’m fine, I’m just nervous and confused.”

“Dammit, Chelsea, I don’t want there to be any confusion between you and me,” Germaine said, fiercely, grabbing her hand, then gently turning her chin so that they were almost nose to nose. Entranced by the look in his eyes, Chelsea couldn’t pull her own gaze away.

“Don’t you know how I feel about you? What you mean to me?” he began, his voice bold and unwavering, “This human concept of love. That’s what you’re waiting for, isn’t it? For me to declare my love for you?”

Chelsea wanted to say yes. She wanted to open up her heart to him and ask him to open his in return. The shrill ring of Germaine’s cell phone destroyed the moment. She rose from the bed, watched him cursing, searching for the wailing piece of technology. He answered, spoke briefly, then immediately headed toward the closet to get dressed.

Chelsea followed and stood in the doorway. “Emergency?”

“Yeah, a pile-up on the interstate. I’ve got to go in. We’re not finished with this conversation, though, Chelsea. I promise.”

He stopped what he was doing and walked toward her. He embraced her, stroking the back of her neck, kissing her cheek, then her mouth. Chelsea melted into him, clutching his still-naked back. Reluctantly, she pulled away. “You’ve got to hurry.”

“I know,” he said, pulling a shirt over his head and stepping into a pair of sneakers, “We’ll talk later.”

“‘Kay,” she said, sitting on the edge of the bed as he finished getting ready, grabbing a coat and shoving his wallet and keys into his pockets. “Shit, I forgot to ask you!” she said suddenly. Germaine stopped and turned, “What is it babe?”

“Do vampires celebrate Christmas?” she asked shyly.

Germaine laughed aloud then covered his mouth to keep from waking the twins.

“Of course,” he said, still grinning, “Although, I haven’t really kept up with the tradition. Why? What did you have in mind?”

“Um, a tree? Presents? Christmas dinner?” Chelsea said, still slightly embarrassed.

Germaine crossed the room again and gave Chelsea another kiss. “The boys will be thrilled. Their first real Christmas. Invite your family. And call Giselle. I’ve got to go baby.”

“‘Kay,” she said, watching him disappear into the dark hallway. As Chelsea made Germaine’s bed, she started making her to-do list in her head. It was the first of December. She had twenty-five days to plan the boys’ first Christmas.

Two weeks later, Chelsea and the boys were driving home in the snow. She’d had them out shopping all day. The house had been decorated with trees, garland, wreaths, holly, and mistletoe. She’d bought, wrapped, and hidden gifts for the twins in Germaine’s office a few days before. But she’d promised the twins she’d let them pick out gifts for Germaine, Giselle, and her family that day. She’d expected them to tire out early, but the vampire youngsters had more energy than she did.

“Daddy promised to have the lights on tonight, Miss Chel,” Lincoln exclaimed as they turned down the long driveway. Chelsea peered into the darkness and hoped they were right.

“Yep, and he said he’s taking us shopping tomorrow for your gift,” Levi added.

“Shush, Levi!” Lincoln scolded, “It’s s’posed to be a surprise.”

“It’s okay,” she soothed, “As long as you don’t tell me what it is, it’s still a surprise.”

Levi stuck his tongue out at Lincoln but they were quickly distracted by the sight that awaited them as they broke through the trees and approached the house.

“Oooh,” Levi said.

“It’s so pretty,” Lincoln added.

“When did your daddy have time to do all this?” Chelsea asked aloud. The twins didn’t answer. She parked the car and helped the boys from their car seats. Both boys clambered out, hindered by their heavy coats, mittens, and hats. Not that they needed them. But it’d be odd to be out on a snowy December day with two 4-year olds in shorts and t-shirts. The boys ran across the yard, laughing and screeching happily at the winter fairyland Germaine had created with lights.

Germaine stood on the wrap-around porch grinning broadly.

“What do you think?” he asked as they climbed the stairs.

The boys gushed over the lights—it seemed that Germaine had stuck a string of lights to everything. The house, porch and entire yard were lit by thousands of tiny twinkles. Chelsea stood in the middle, spinning slowly in the gently falling snow, feeling like a princess in a wonderland. She smiled and turned to face Germaine who was herding the boys inside.

“How in the world…? I mean, how could you have time….?” She stuttered, finally climbing the stairs to meet Germaine. They walked inside and helped the boys shed their winter gear.

“You know we’re extra fast, right Miss Chel?”

She turned to look at Levi. He and Lincoln grinned at Germaine and before she could even blink, the boys had ran to the closet, hung up their coats, and ran back to stand next to her.

“I did, Levi, but I didn’t realize just how fast you were,” she smiled at the boys. While it was overwhelming, she didn’t want them to know just how shocked she was. She knelt down and pulled them both into her arms.

“You are the fastest little boys I know!” she said, tickling them both. The three of them laughed, falling down onto the floor. The boys tried tickling her back and with their double-teaming efforts and their super-speed, the three of them were laughing hysterically in a heap.

Germaine stood watching Chelsea interact with his sons. They’d never had this—someone who got down on their level, played with them, mothered them. Loved them. The last nanny had been a good sport, but there was always a formality—a kind of disconnect. Germaine couldn’t really blame her—she’d been subtly (and justifiably) afraid of the twins. Chelsea radiated nothing remotely resembling fear. Just love. The same thing she was willing him to feel for her. The longer Germaine thought about it, the more he realized it was becoming true. He finally broke up their tickle party and the foursome made their way to the kitchen to have a cookie and hot chocolate before bath time and bedtime. Finally, Germaine thought as he read the boys a second bedtime story. Levi was already snoring softly and Lincoln’s eyelids had finally lost the battle. He closed the book and headed for his bedroom where he hoped Chelsea was waiting. They had yet to finish their discussion from the other night.

Chelsea woke in her bed feeling Germaine’s mouth on her sex. She moaned and clenched her thighs at the teasing sensation.

“You fell asleep on me, baby,” he said, kissing up her thighs, across her stomach, and up to her breasts. He settled his weight on her body and rested his chin between her breasts. His 5 o’clock shadow scraped the delicate flesh and he nipped and licked at the marks he knew he was leaving.

“I’m sorry,” she said, gazing at him sleepily, “the boys wore me out with shopping today.”

He chuckled, “I thought that was supposed to be the other way around.”

“Me too. Vampire boys are resilient, though.”

“Vampire men are more resilient. I was going to show you just how resilient, but I think I better let you get your beauty rest.” Germaine pushed himself up and gave her a little kiss before starting to roll away. Chelsea forced herself to rouse enough to wrap her arms and legs around Germaine’s body. She was no match for his physical strength, but then, he didn’t resist too much.

“Show me,” she said, bedroom eyes still hooded. Chelsea was in that place right smack dab between asleep and awake. The place where sleep walkers explore and sleep talkers orate. The place between dreamland and real life. Chelsea might not have realized this, but Germaine did, and he swore he’d take full advantage.

Germaine hadn’t been able to hypnotize Chelsea up to this point. Normally, humans succumbed to his will with one heated glance, but Chelsea just glared right back at him. He knew her mind was wide open at this moment.

“Don’t wake up. Don’t fall asleep.”

Chelsea nodded, eyes half shut, hands still roaming his body.

“Spread your legs. Stroke your clit.”

Chelsea relaxed her legs so that they fell open on either side of his body. She reached down between the two of them and her fingers trailed gently over her swollen clitoris.

“Don’t come until I tell you.”

She nodded again, still lightly touching herself.

Germaine scooted down so that his face was inches from Chelsea’s pussy. He watched her fingers trace her slit, bringing her slippery fluids up and across her clit. He maneuvered one of her pillows down and slid it beneath her hips so that they were tilted way up. He pushed her legs wider apart and bent her knees. She was wide open for him.

“Chelsea, I want you to keep stroking, but relax. Relax completely. If you start to tighten up, stop your orgasm and relax again.”

“Yessss,” she purred. Her hips were writhing just a bit.

“Open yourself up to me. Completely.”

She nodded and he refocused his attention on the buffet she presented.

He started stroking her thighs softly, moving further down to trace the crease where her buttocks met her thighs. She flexed and he repeated his command for her to relax. She did, immediately. He licked the same path his fingers had just taken, then he dipped his tongue into her pussy. Her outer lips were swollen and shiny. She had a fat pussy. She’d probably take that the wrong way if he ever said it out loud, but there was nothing better than burying his dick in her tight hole and feeling those fat pussy lips gripping him. But for tonight, he wanted her relaxed so he could bury his dick in a different tight hole.

He shifted so that his tongue left her pussy and trailed down toward her asshole. It was pink, ringed by a light dusting of those dark brown hairs that adorned her pussy.

“Relax,” he reminded her. When he brushed across it with his tongue, she didn’t tense. This was going to be good, he told himself.

Chelsea realized Germaine wanted to fuck her ass. He’d nonchalantly teased her there before, but she’d always shied away. But she was so relaxed that she wasn’t fighting him this time. He probably thinks I’m out of it, she thought, smiling inside. She felt his tongue brush up against her asshole and she kept her entire body limp. She wanted to make him feel good—and so far, it was making her feel good too. She didn’t want him to stop.

Germaine’s fangs had been out for a while but he hadn’t bitten Chelsea yet. He pressed his nose against her pussy, worked his tongue as deeply into her asshole as he could, and finally pierced the skin between her pussy and asshole with a painless bite. Seeing her stroking herself, smelling her pussy so intensely, tasting her blood as it dripped onto his tongue, which was spearing her asshole, and feeling her soft, round butt, pliable in his hands was almost sensory overload for Germaine. He removed his tongue and sucked on the bite wound he’d left on her taint for a minute. He could feel her breathing quicken and felt her forcing herself to relax. He pulled away from the bloody bite and watched the drops run down to her asshole before healing themselves. He used his index finger to smear the blood around her asshole before sliding his finger inside. It had never been this loose and relaxed before. His hypnosis was working. He had to take her ass soon.

“I’m going to fuck your ass now, Chelsea. Keep stroking your clit. I’ll be gentle. As soon as my dick is in your ass, you can come whenever you need to. Just stay as relaxed as you can.”

“Mmm-hmmm…” she moaned, eyes still closed.

Germaine slid a second finger in her ass, wiggling and stretching her hole. He plunged his dick in her pussy slowly, to ensure it was lubed. Her asshole was almost as wet as her pussy from the saliva and blood. He pumped a few times before pulling out of her pussy and lining his dick up to take her ass.

“Breathe, Chelsea. Take deep breaths.”

She nodded and he could see her chest expand to take a deep breath. As she exhaled, he worked the head in. He waited. She didn’t tighten up but he waited for her to inhale and exhale again before going deeper. By the fourth breath, he was balls deep in her ass and he could feel her starting to squirm and writhe.

“Relax. Don’t move. I’m going to move. Just keep playing with your clit slowly.”

She nodded, her mouth falling open.

Germaine pulled his entire dick out and slowly shoved it all back in. Chelsea could feel every inch of it filling her up. There was just a hint of pain. Like an afterthought. If it hurt at all, it hurt so good. He started going faster, pulling almost all the way out and then pushing in again. Her clit was so sensitive, just the tip of her finger grazing across it was almost enough to make her come. She focused on breathing, in and out, slowly. Keeping her asshole, her pussy, her entire body relaxed. Her eyes opened just a slit and she could see Germaine’s chiseled chocolate body hovering above hers. His hands rested on her thighs, pushing them out and up beside her torso. He had a strained look on his face, like maybe he was feeling the same kind of exquisite pleasure/pain she was feeling. She added a second finger to her clit, stroking with one and then the other. Her strokes were coming more quickly. The heat had built inside her, slowly being stoked. The faster Germaine moved, the bigger the flames became. Until she heard him grunting and the flames took over. His dick pounded in her ass. Her fingers flew across her clit. She moaned and moved her hips in circles. Germaine reached down and slid two fingers in her pussy, curving them up, hitting her G-spot perfectly. She could barely breathe and made no sound as she came uncontrollably. She squirted all around the fingers in her pussy forcefully. It sprayed all over his abdomen. She felt her eyes rolling back, her body shook, and her asshole clamped down on the rock-hard dick that was spewing hot semen inside her. Germaine, on the other hand, was shouting like he had caught the Holy Ghost. Indecipherable words punctuated each spurt of semen.

Germaine had never come so hard in his entire life, living or dead. If he weren’t already dead, he would’ve thought Chelsea had killed him. He babbled like a lunatic as he came and as soon as he collapsed on Chelsea’s body, he was afraid he’d broken the hypnosis. He pushed himself up, kissed her cheek, her neck, her lips softly. He pulled the soaking wet pillow from under her hips, got a warm wet cloth and cleaned her, then tucked her in. He contemplated making the long, lonely walk back to his bedroom, but decided he couldn’t bear it. He climbed into Chelsea’s bed and pulled the covers around them both.

Chelsea woke with a start. She felt like what she and Germaine had done last night had been a dream. She rolled over and saw the note he’d left on the pillow.

‘Gone shopping with the boys. Be back for early dinner. Work at 6pm. ~G’

She sighed. It was nearly noon. She still had quite a bit to do before Giselle and then her family arrived. She climbed out of bed and headed to the shower. She worried that she’d be sore, but during her shower, she couldn’t tell anything different about her asshole. If it hadn’t been for the wet pillow she’d seen in the garbage can when she took the trash out, she could’ve sworn she’d been dreaming. She finished wrapping presents, tidied up the guest rooms, and started dinner. She still wondered how vampires could eat, but her boys had voracious appetites. The boys got a glass of blood every morning from a supply Germaine kept stocked in his office, but she’d never seen him drink blood, other than the little taste he took from her every once in a while. Another intriguing aspect of vampirism that she’d have to ask Germaine about.

The boys got home about 4pm and they ate an early dinner. The three of them had disappeared into Germaine’s office with their shopping bags as soon as they’d gotten home, presumably to wrap her presents. She gave them their privacy, figuring the boys might let something slip once Germaine had gone to work, but they weren’t giving up any information. She’d have to be surprised.

The next few days passed uneventfully. Giselle would be arriving on the 20th and she and Chelsea would plan the food, do the shopping, and start cooking. Chelsea was grateful—she’d been worn out lately. It was no wonder—Germaine’s appetite for sex was insatiable. Not that she was complaining. She’d never felt so sated in her life. And it was almost like her body craved him, anticipated his touch, prepared itself in advance for him. In fact, she’d feel herself getting wet and turned on for Germaine and she’d been initiating the sex nearly every time they were alone. She’d given up on finishing their conversation until after the holidays. She figured Germaine had too.

Giselle arrived and the entire household was excited. They did some more Christmas shopping, some grocery shopping, and Giselle regaled Chelsea and the twins with stories about Germaine and Greg’s childhood. She also explained that she’d managed to talk Germaine’s brother, Greg and his wife Cynthia to join them. They’d be arriving on the 23rd. The twins hadn’t seen Uncle G in several months, so they were especially thrilled. Germaine had to work that day, but Greg entertained the boys while Chelsea, Giselle, and Cynthia relaxed and caught up on their lives.

“Cynthia,” Chelsea started, “I hope I’m not offending you by asking, but I honestly didn’t realize that Giselle was a vampire until Germaine told me. Are you also a vampire?”

Erik tensed as the chill wind cut through the forest, his senses were on fire. Corbin would attack from the right, he always did. They had been taught predictability was death, yet the pup never learned that lesson. Erik made it a point to drive it home tonight.

The rustle of leaves, a breaking twig, Corbin burst from the undergrowth to Erik’s right. His fangs aiming for his throat found nothing but air and with an unnatural grace Erik rolled to his back and buried his fangs into the pup’s belly.

Corbin growled as he struck the ground, his belly torn open he knew he had lost the night. Damien still lurked however, he was confident Erik would go down.

Where are you?

Erik took to higher ground. He didn’t want to be caught between the old wolf and Corbin. While wounded he could still prove a nuisance and any distraction would be disastrous with Damien involved.

The old wolf moved like a ghost. While Erik was confident in his heightened senses, considered far superior to the others of the pack save for the old wolf, he knew the threat here was real. Leaves danced along the forest floor as another gust of wind blew though towering Cypress and Erik felt it.

He was being watched.

Earth, Cypress, and Corbin’s blood, nothing else. The old wolf was a native to the parish. He had haunted these woods long before Erik had even been born. Too old to lead he had said, too old to care. Not too old to make sure Eric was worth his salt however.

Where are you old wolf?

Increasing his stride he broke into a near lope before suddenly breaking left. He had mastered his breathing and had stopped just short of running out of it. This time he caught the movement.

Earth, Cypress, and Damien, he had his scent and knew he had got out in front of him. He knew nothing of the old wolf’s hunting patterns or even his methods of attack. He was a true alpha. It was rare to find em’ these days, especially this far south.

Only two packs remained in Orleans parish and another in Plaquemines. Most just pups like Corbin who grew tired of being loners. When Shep died, the whole pack grew restless and with Damien refusing to take lead the future of the pack was uncertain.

Again, a flash of movement from the corner of his vision, he was close. Still no sound and there would likely be none. Scent, sight, and instinct were his only allies in this fight.


Erik howled as his opponent sunk is fangs into the nape of his neck, but instinct had him twisting under the old wolf with ease, loosening his bite and without any hesitation or fear he pounced at the grey wolf before he could set his footing.

Don’t go for the body, pups always go for the body. With a snarl Erik clamped down on Damien’s hock joint and with his the weight of his body behind him flipped to dislodge the joint completely. The old wolf howled in pain.

His transformation had started the moment he hit the ground signaling the hunt was over. Eric turned his muzzle to the sky. The cold air chilled his wet nose. It always started in the joints, expanding, contracting, the pain had become more bearable with age yet it took sheer will to remain silent.

For an alpha like Damien, there was no pain. The old man was already sitting cross-legged, setting his ankle joint and by the look on his face, even alpha’s felt that pain. Twisting and contorting, Erik writhed on the ground.

“Focus on sky pup,” the old man said. “The more you focus on the pain, the longer it takes.”

Shep had told him the same, hell it was the first thing they learned. Old fuck had no respect for him even after taking him down.

“How’s the ankle,” Eric asked as he rolled on to his back.

“It’ll be fine within the hour,” he replied. “Corbin back there,” he thumbed over his back, “may have bled out.”

“Nah,” Eric said. “I didn’t open him up that much. He’s probably already back at camp nursing his wounds.”

Damien was just as intimidating as a human as he was a wolf. Well over six feet tall with a square jaw buried under a maze of thick grey stubble. His eyes were set deep and as with most alphas his eyes shone with a golden hue. His hair was long and silvery like the moon and on a night like this it reflected the moon light brilliantly.

“So you really wanna lead do ya boy?” he asked as he stretched his wounded leg out in front him.

“No one else will,” he replied. Most pups who joined packs were natural followers, rare to find one with the desire and ability to lead.

“And why not join one of the other two packs?” Damien asked.

“We’re all Orleans born,” Eric started. “And join Gregory after what he did to Shep?”

“That was between them, not the packs.”

“Doesn’t much matter, I’m not running with that asshole.” Eric sat up and rested on his palms. The moonlit sky contrasted his naked form radiantly against the dark forest floor.

“And when I’m gone, some alpha comes round, what then?”

“We’ll deal,” he replied. “And anyway, how likely is that anyway?”

“We ain’t as rare as you think boy,” the old man said. “We just don’t make ourselves known. But you can bet if one comes round and decides to take the reins, you won’t be stopping him.”

“I stopped you tonight,” Eric replied. Maybe he had gone easy on him, but that didn’t seem like something Damien would do.

The old man let loose a sharp laugh. “Oh yeah in a straight fight you ain’t so bad, but alphas got tricks you pups don’t know about.”

“Yeah, why didn’t you use any tonight?”

“No challenge,” he replied. “I had to know if you were capable.”


“Oh, like I said you’re a natural fighter.” The old man flexed the toes of his wounded foot. “And given your background I know you don’t lack in guile. You seem to have given up most of those drugs too.”

Shep had told the old man more than he had thought. “So what’s left?”

“We’ll get to that, but first we run.”

Just the word had Erik on his feet. The instinct of the wolf lingered as human, so did the desire to run. Back when he had first turned, he had been about fifteen and had been arrested four times while running naked through the streets of the Vieux Carré.

After he’d been found by Shepard he was taken out to Lake Boeuf and he had never felt so free. Now he found himself out here with Damien. “Your ankle?”

“Oh it’s all good,” he replied before taking off. Erik fell in behind him. He had run behind Shep many times, something about following an alpha just felt right. Alphas moved with a grace that was near enchanting to watch and when you could follow close and match their movements, you felt like the fucking wind.

The old man howled and Eric matched him as they darted between the looming Cypress trees. Lake Boeuf loomed before them and Damien didn’t stop but ran full speed into its depths. The pull of the alpha led Erik in with him.

Damien came up with a boisterous laugh, “Did you feel that?”

“What was that?” Eric asked. It was as if he had lost control of his own body.

“Alphas lead boy, it’s not just some nifty title given with age or how pure our blood is, it’s something you earn by taking charge.”

“I never felt that with Shep,” Eric said as he pulled his wet hair out of his face.

“Shep never ran you into a lake,” he replied. “It can be subtle; it can take you by complete surprise.”

“It just happens over time?” He didn’t buy it, he had always heard you were either an alpha or you weren’t.

“Boy, it happens when you take charge, don’t make me repeat myself. Now look, there are shortcuts, but they’re dangerous.”

“What kind of shortcuts?”

“You go back to our camp and make Corbin your bitch.” Damien had a huge grin on his face, but it was clear he wasn’t joking.

“You’re fucking with me,” Eric said. The old man wasn’t known for his sense of humor.

“Look boy, when you dominate another wolf, you’ll feel it.”

Eric was skeptical. “I dominated him earlier when I nearly gutted him.”

“Nah, you just wounded him, that’s not domination. Pups need to be told what to do, they ache for that shit. They want to follow, they need it.”

“Did you?”

“Did I make someone my bitch?” The old man laughed, “Yeah but long after I was an alpha.”

“Why after?”

“Listen boy, this is important. Once you break a pup, they’re yours. Won’t sell ya out, won’t stab ya in the back, they’ll put down anything for ya. It’s always good to have one or two like that at your back.”

“Afterwards I’ll be an alpha?”

“Not exactly nah. You’ll be dominant over a pup and he’ll do what you say. Others will notice and follow, rest comes natural.

“You said dangerous?”

“Just when you try and break a pup that ain’t for being broken. Now, go do your thing, I’m goin’ huntin’.” Without another word the old man vanished beneath the surface of the lake.

Erik peddled in the water for a few moments before making his way to the bank. It wasn’t like Damien to lie, and frankly it all made a lot of sense. Shep’s first had died with him, had it been due to being broken by an alpha? Corbin would be easy enough given he was already sort of a pushover.

As he expected Corbin was back at camp and from his movements already healed up. “Where’s Damien?” he asked as Erik strode into the light of the fire.

“Went hunting,” he replied. “We need to have a little talk.”

“Yeah we do,” Corbin said as he stabbed at the fire with a long poker. “You almost spilled my guts asshole.”

“I let go too quick for that Corbin,” he explained. “And stop whining about it, that’s not what I wanted to talk about.” Erik walked to the fire opposite Corbin and warmed his hands. The light of the flames danced across his muscled frame leaving no shadows to hide his nudity.

“I’m not whining, but what’s going on?” Corbin’s eyes were attracted to Erik’s exposed body, the dancing light almost making it appear as though his muscles were writhing beneath his skin.

“Need to talk about your role in all this,” he said.

“My role? Last time I checked, you weren’t in charge yet.”

“True, but I don’t necessarily mean your role in the pack, I mean here, tonight.”

“I’m not followin’ ya.” Corbin stopped poking the fire.

“It’s important that you understand something, and this isn’t because of our fight earlier. But you should know that you belong to me now.”

Corbin smirked and turned his attention back to the fire. “I belong to you do I?”

“You do, it’s something I decided on my way back.” He was responding in the way he had expected, not taking any of it seriously. He would have to show him.

“Something you decided? Erik, you hit your head out there or something?”

“Come over here,” Erik said as his pointed to the ground in front of him. “Now.”

Corbin half moved to stand but resisted. “Why?” he asked. He didn’t know what to make of his change in tone, his cold eyes that almost seemed to see straight through him. He felt chilled somewhat.

“Do you need a reason? Crawl.”

Corbin nearly balked but thought better of it. The man before him could very well be his pack leader soon. Dutifully he crawled the short distance between where he had sat to where Erik now stood. “So?”

Without a word Erik reached and grabbed a handful of Corbin’s blonde hair and pulled him up to his knees. “You’re mine, you understand that?”

“I, yeah,” he replied. His voice was shaken and he had no idea why Erik was doing this.

“Go on,” he pulled Corbin forward several inches. Eric’s cock started to swell with blood as Corbin’s warm breath brushed his flesh.

“You want me..” Corbin tried to look up but Erik’s firm grip prevented it. He watched the cock only inches from his face stiffen to the point where it nearly touched his chin.

“Don’t make me tell you again,” Erik said.

Parting his lips he widened his jaw and took several inches of Erik into his mouth and with one last breath he closed his lips tightly around its shaft. Releasing his grip Erik widened his stance and watched as Corbin tenderly sucked at his hard cock.

His movements were slow and deliberate at first but once his saliva had adequately soaked his flesh Corbin’s lips worked his shaft with ease and soon even his tongue was swiping at the belly of his cock.

The hair on the back of Erik’s neck stood on end. His senses were heightened in a way that they had never been before as a human. Is this what Damien had meant?

Even the sensations of Corbin’s wet lips wrapped tightly around the girth of his throbbing cock felt electric. “Suck it harder you little bitch,” he commanded and as he expected the pup responded. He was feeling it too, what he had felt when he drove into that lake.

His hips started bucking into Corbin’s mouth, each thrust bringing him closer to his release. His could smell the earth, Cypress trees, the sweat beading on the back of the man nursing his cock, and even several different animals nearby.

The desire to howl was strong, he felt powerful and with his right foot he shoved Corbin to the ground and shot load after hot load of his seed over the naked body of his subordinate. “Let’s hunt,” he commanded as he started to contort. Corbin, without delay, twisted and writhed as hair erupted from his sweat soaked hide.

Within moments Eric was charging through the forest with his bitch in tow, following the scent of the deer. They moved in sync and with little effort they circled and took down the deer before it could react to their threat.

They feasted for the first time that night and with bellies full and muzzles coated in the blood of their kill they charged into the undergrowth of the forest. Erik moved with a speed he had never reached and he could feel the presence of his bitch at his back matching his movements. Each leap, each dodge, he maneuvered the forest with ease and as he neared the drop off into Lake Boeuf he had no doubt the pup would follow.

Approaching the very spot he had leapt from before he checked at his back for Corbin and confirming his pace he dove from the bank into the black water below. Rising from the depths he broke the surface to find Corbin at the bank. He hadn’t made the jump. He hadn’t broken the pup yet, that much was clear.

“Looks like you still have some work to do!” shouted Damien from the nearby shore. The old man had been reclining in the mud, covered in the blood of some recent kill.

Now in the shallows Erik began his transition, the pain of which seemed nearly nonexistent.

“Corbin! Shore! Now!” he called to the pup as he made his own way towards Damien.

“You can’t go easy on em’,” the old man said with a voice like gravel.

“I didn’t, I just got hungry.”

The old man laughed. “Senses kicked eh?”

“It like that all the time for you?” he asked.

“Over time, more of the wolf comes back with you. So you need to finish what you started,” he said. “You can’t half ass these things.”


“Ain’t nothin’ I ain’t seen before.”

They both turned to Corbin as he approached. The pup’s transition caused him considerably more pain and as he coughed up a bit of blood, his own or his previous dinner, rolled onto his back to face the sky.

Erik waited for him to catch his breath before dragging him to his feet. “Afraid our earlier work isn’t finished,” he said as he pulled him towards a tree.

“Wha..?” Corbin said as he took hold of the old Cypress he had been led to.

Spitting on his hand, Erik stroked his cock to get it nice and ready for the pup who watched him as he circled the tree. “Who do you belong to?”

“Y.. You,” he stammered. “Look, I got the point Erik.”

“Nah, not quite. Look, you’re hard just thinking about what I’m about to do to ya.”

Corbin’s cock had gone stiff the moment he knew Erik’s intentions, and he wanted it. He didn’t know why, but he had to have Erik inside him.

“Should I just go back to camp then? Is that what you want?” Erik teased. He may not have broken him completely, but progress had definitely been made.

“No, no don’t do that.” Corbin reached for his cock and started stroking, he couldn’t wait.

“Did I say you could do that?” Erik asked. He pulled back his arm and slapped Corbin’s ass, leaving a bright red mark. “Beg for it,” he commanded.

“Please,” he said as he exhaled, his body desperate for cock.

“Please what?” He stood behind the pup, waiting for the words he wanted to hear

“Fuck me!” he shouted back over his shoulder. “Please Eric,” he begged.

Taking Corbin by the hips Erik pressed the swollen tip of his cock against the puckered opening of his rectum. Spitting once more he pressed against his rear entry till its tight opening gave way and slipped over his glistening cock-head.

“Ah fuck,” Corbin breathed as he clung to the tree. Between Erik’s spit and pre-cum he had worked his way deep into Corbin and wasted no time before he started fucking. “Can I touch my cock?”

“No,” Erik replied as he pounded repeatedly into Corbin’s rectum. This wasn’t for the pup he reminded himself.

As Corbin involuntarily clenched his sensitive flesh around Erik’s turgid cock it took all his will to keep his hands away from his own. With each press at his prostate, pre-cum would drip from his cock to the sand at his feet. It throbbed for his touch, this was torture.

The sound of his hips slapping into Corbin’s ass cheeks rang through the forest and as he felt his balls tighten he noticed Damien had started stroking his own cock. He should send the pup over when he was done he thought.

“Fuck Erik, let me jack off, or you do it,” Corbin begged. His voice so desperate, he almost gave in but he knew he shouldn’t.

“Maybe Damien will let you pleasure yourself, but for now just shut the fuck up and take it.” With his oncoming climax he pounded into Corbin with much more force and the pup had to increase his hold on the tree to compensate.

Like before, his senses were heightened. It was better than any drug, and he had done most. He could even hear the wet sounds of Damien’s hand working at his hard cock. His sense of touch, the sensation of Corbin’s flesh wrapped around his cock, it nearly overwhelmed him. The pup was panting, his tongue hanging from his mouth, saliva dripping from its tip. Even Corbin had lost himself in the ecstasy of the moment and his cock was unattended. One touch would probably set him off.

No, it didn’t even take a touch. Corbin’s body twisted against the tree and he cried out as his cock twitched, his balls pulled up to his body and waves of his burning seed shot onto the bark of the tree. He had to hold the pup up by the hips to keep him from falling.

“You hit the ground, we’ll be doing this till your ass bleeds.”

“I.. I’m good,” he replied though the words were hard to make out through his heavy breathing.

His cock pulsated within Corbin’s tight grip and with a near unnatural force Erik shot his load within, filling him with gooey warmth. Erik nearly collapsed as his orgasm ravaged his body. His heartbeat filled his hears and every muscle in his body seemed to cry out in glory.

“Go take care of Damien,” he whispered to Corbin who did so without question.

He fell to the ground and leaned back into the tree. He felt Corbin’s warm seed at his back. He watched as Corbin fell to the ground in front of Damien and took the length of the old man’s cock into his mouth. He nodded his appreciation.

He knew his transition to being an alpha was far from complete, but with Corbin under his control it would only be a matter of time. He still had so many questions and he wondered if Damien would bother to answer them. Once back in the city the old man usually kept to himself.

Regardless, it had been a good trip. He hadn’t been out to Lake Boeuf in years and while his first visit had been amazing, this one topped it in every way.

“Why did I get engaged in the first place?” I asked myself on the morning of my bachelor party. Was it peer pressure, parental meddling, lust?

I clearly remember thinking “Hell, I’m too young, I just graduated from Ohio State and now I’m marrying a southern bell of a classmate in The Big Easy.” The wedding was two days away, my tuxedo had been rented, all the invited guests had made their travel plans, my fiancé Sybil was fluttering about dealing with last minute details, and here I was, virtually morose.

Though I didn’t feel much like it, my groomsmen and some fraternity brothers using the wedding as an excuse to get drunk in New Orleans, had insisted on a bachelor party. My best man had arranged a night at a unique New Orleans style event, in a mega party center where a number of activities would be going on at the same time, and we would be in a dance hall with a number of other fun seekers.

When we got to the mega party center, we found a wedding reception going on in one hall, a corporate event in another, and a truly wild gala with rotating bands and free flowing liquor in the “Shindig Hall” that we had reserved two tables in. There were events of all types going on simultaneously in the Shindig Hall including several graduation parties, a Tulane frat party, and a bachelorette party.

I really wish that I had been in the mood because I never had seen such a collection of people reveling so joyously. I pretended to have a good time, but my conflicted heart seriously wasn’t in it.

I also was making sure not to drink. While many people can temporarily put their cares behind them by getting drunk, I know from experience it just makes me depressed. The first few times I switched tea for the scotch and sodas my groomsmen delivered to me it was a little tricky. After they were well on their way to getting drunk themselves it was easy.

After about an hour of revelry I went to the washroom and on the way back stopped in at the wedding reception. The bride and groom looked like they were thoroughly enjoying each other’s company, constantly laughing, touching and hugging each other, and dancing up a storm. It made me wistful.

As I was leaving the wedding reception a woman about my age was leaving too and we bumped into each other at the door. I profusely apologized and when she looked up at me I saw that she was crying.

“Is something wrong?” I asked.

“No, I always cry at weddings.”

“Yeah, but that’s only a reception. Are you attending it?”

“No, I’m at a party in Shindig Hall.”

“Me too. I’m headed back there. You can’t go in with tears in your eyes you know.”

“Uh, yeah. I guess you’re right.”

“Here, take this,” I continued, handing her my handkerchief.

By then I was starting to notice what a beautiful woman I was interacting with. She had long brown hair with red highlights, big alluring green eyes, a perfect button nose, and a sleek tight figure with a bubble butt. She also had a mystical quality about her, something I don’t ever remember seeing before.

As she wiped away her tears we chatted some more, just small talk. Finally she had composed herself, flashed a coy smile and said “I’m sorry, I seem to have soaked your hanky,” as she handed it back to me. I squeezed her hand around it and said “Why don’t you keep it just in case you see another wedding,” smiling as broadly as I could. She laughed, said “Thanks,” and we walked back into Shindig Hall.

I would have liked to continue our conversation, but as soon as we got back into the party place two women ran up to her and pulled her away virtually screaming “There you are, come on, we’ve arranged a treat.”

I hadn’t gone another three steps when I got virtually the same treatment from two of my groomsmen. As I was being led away by my now officially drunk buddies, I knew this wasn’t good. I tried to run when the lead singer of the band on stage at the time said “We’ve got a special treat for y’all tonight. We’re gonna have us a wedding rehearsal. Beau and Ida Mae are getting married — though not to each other — in a few days and we wanna make sure they got their moves down.”

“Shit, this is going to be real bad!” I said to myself as my best man and all my groomsmen pushed me up near the stage where one of the frat boys was standing with some paper towels strung around his neck as a poor imitation of a preacher’s stole, and holding some papers in his hands. Was I ever right!

It seemed like the whole crowd parted on cue, forming an aisle, and as the band played some gibberish four half-wasted bridesmaids from the bachelorette part came dancing up the aisle one at a time, several flashing their undies and one flashing her tits as the crowd hooted and hollered. Then the band started playing an awful rendition of “Here Comes The Bride” as a totally embarrassed looking woman, obviously Ida Mae, holding two ugly plastic flowers, was being walked up the aisle by another frat boy with a ridiculous gray wig.

After a few steps I realized who Ida Mae was — the hanky girl! She did a double take when she saw I was the groom.

The “preacher” made some half-intelligible, mostly lewd, comments that were barely audible over the crowd’s whooping and hollering, my best man handed me a piece of aluminum foil formed as a ring which I was essentially forced to put on Ida Mae’s finger, and the “preacher” yelled “Now French Kiss The Bride” resulting in absolute pandemonium in the hall.

With Ida Mae’s bridesmaids pushing her toward me, and my groomsmen pushing me toward her, it was clear that we were not going to escape this. So as we were pushed together I whispered — actually it was probably a yell to be heard over the din — “There is no getting out of this. We might as well give them a show.”

A devilish smile came over her face as she whispered/yelled back “Okay — a real show it is!”

If it was pandemonium before, then I guess you’d call it “over the top” when we started kissing. We both put everything we had into it and stayed clinched for a good 30-45 seconds. When we finally broke we both smiled and waved to the crowd, and I picked her up and carried her down the aisle while the band played the worst rendition of “It Had To Be You” I’ve ever heard.

By the time we got out of Shindig Hall we both were laughing almost uncontrollably. After one last cheer from the crowd, we heard the band start playing “Shout,” and no one bothered to follow us out, as virtually everyone in the hall was gyrating and singing along. I plopped Ida Mae down on a couch in the general reception area for all of the party rooms. Even many years later I remember our initial conversation almost exactly:

“I see we both have truly demented friends Ida Mae.”

“My friends are wacky even when not drinking. You put a few ounces of booze in them and that is what you get.”

“Well I was as embarrassed as hell and not liking it — until the kiss that is. We really put on a show, didn’t we?”

“Hell yes we did. Course it helped that I’m a great kisser.”

“Hey! I’m supposed to be the one saying that, not you. ‘It helped that you’re a great kisser.’” [We both laughed again.]


“So listen Ida Mae, I don’t want to get personal, but since you’re wearing my priceless ring, I will. I now understand why you were crying at the wedding reception — it’s the same reason I was almost crying there.”

“You got it figured out, do you Beau?”

“Yeah. You’re afraid — just like I am — that you’re not making the right decision. You’re definitely not ready to get married at all, let alone to the guy you’re committed to marry because you don’t see yourself being as happy with him as the bride and groom at the reception obviously were with each other.”

After that exchange, while occasionally throwing good natured barbs at one another, we did have a frank discussion about our mutual apprehension. I never warmed up to anyone faster in my entire life, and I don’t ever remember baring my soul to anyone else the way I did to Ida Mae. And she was as shockingly candid with me as I was with her, at one point saying:

“My fiancé can’t fuck worth a damn; he can barely fit a condom on that limp dick. And he won’t ever eat me out — he thinks it’s dirty and he might get some disease or something.”

“You’re kidding! I love, absolutely love, to eat pussy. And in my case it’s the female who doesn’t like it. I tried to just lick Sybil a few times and she got upset and cold: ‘Na-ice Sothen Laddess donn do that.’”

“She’s crazy Beau. I’m a nice southern girl and I’d give anything to get a tongue up my slit.”

After a pregnant pause I got as bold as I ever have in my life.

“Listen — I know you’re going to slap me silly for this but I’m going to ask it anyway Ida Mae. How about we go somewhere and I eat you through three orgasms.”

I likely flinched after I said that. But I needn’t have because without even so much as a raised eyebrow, let alone hand, Ida Mae immediately shot back “So you think you can give me three oral orgasms huh, Hot Shit? You won’t, but let’s try.”

There was a hotel a few notches above a flop house just down the street. I was as excited as a kid trick-or-treating on his first Halloween as we literally skipped and giggled our way to our room, having paid cash in advance. We didn’t waste any time. We Frenched even more passionately than when we were putting on the show in Shindig Hall as we clawed each other’s clothes off.

Once we were both naked I lay Ida Mae down on the bed, and with one bedside light on to help show the way, went after her lunch box. Her kitty had sparse reddish-brown hair, a shade lighter than on her head. Her pussy was a long prominent slit with puffy well-defined lips, and a pronounced clitoris jutting out from near the top of the slit.

I was like a man dying of hunger as I dove into that glorious gash. I parted her lips like the Red Sea, then drove my tongue up her slit as far as it would go and flicked, wiggled, and twisted it with as much intensity as I could muster. It must have been enough, because virtually without even touching her clit I drove her to her first orgasm within two minutes flat!

As I gently massaged her pussy lips with my fingers, I allowed Ida Mae to come down from her high before I pounced on her clitoris. I sucked that engorged prominence into my mouth then released it, dozens of times while simultaneously finger fucking her with two fingers from one hand and massaging and lightly twisting a nipple with the other. Again her climax came quickly, more powerful than the first one, as she screamed, writhed, and bucked virtually uncontrollably.

The best was yet to come. After I again gave her time to recover as I sucked one tit, felt up the other, and kneaded her ass, I went all out in my assault. While flicking the tip of her now seemingly inch long clit with my tongue, I massaged its base with fingers of my left hand, and with the fingers of my right hand went in search of a G-spot. I was sure she had one when I encountered a rough patch about a finger’s length into her snatch and she let out a long pleasure moan when I started stroking it with two fingers.

I vigorously continued all three actions until she started begging me to stop as she squirmed and thrashed about the bed. That only spurred me on to greater activity and soon she had her third orgasm, so intense that I think every muscle in her body went rigid, including her pussy clamping on my fingers so tightly I thought she might crush them.

Ida Mae was almost incoherent for the ten minutes following her third massive climax. She kept repeating words to the effect of “Oh God what a feeling,” “I never want this to pass,” “Shit I never thought it could be this good,” etc.

Of course by this time my dick was rock hard and my balls aching. I never needed a fuck worse in my life. Once Ida Mae rallied from her sex-induced stupor she recognized this.

“Do you have a condom Beau?”

“Shit. No. Sybil is on the pill.”

“Beau, I’d like nothing better than to fuck you, but I’m not on birth control. I don’t think my limp-dicked husband-to-be could impregnate me, but just in case he’s always used a condom, and I’ve been fitted for an IUD. But it doesn’t get inserted until tomorrow.”

“A day before your wedding?”

“No my wedding is in five days, this was just the right night for my party.”

“Oh damn, I have the worst case of blue balls I’ve ever had. And you are so fucking hot. I want to fuck you more than anyone I’ve ever met, or even dreamt about.”

“Maybe a blow job will do the trick, Beau.”

With that she rolled me onto my back, straddled me with her pussy over my legs, and proceeded to suck and stroke me. While it felt really great, I was sincere in what I told her. I wanted to fuck her blind. So sexually charged I wasn’t clearly thinking of the consequences, I thought maybe I could accomplish that if I stimulated her more. So I grabbed her ass and started moving her pussy over my face, which she was more than willing to assist.

Once I had her pussy over me, I started teasing the shit out of it. I would insert my tongue or a finger part way in, then pull it out and just lick her for a while, before another insertion. It had the desired effect. After a short period of time she stopped sucking, was only perfunctorily stroking, and then suddenly turned around and literally skewered herself on my flagpole. I grabbed her tightly and held her chest against mine as I proceeded to pump with all I had as she pulsated her tight pussy on my reciprocating cock.

My pumping stopped only after we had essentially simultaneous banshee screams, I had deposited a humungous wad of cum in her gash, and she had gone completely limp, her only sounds of life being intermittent contented sighs.

I fucked Ida Mae again, doggy style, about an hour later, and in the missionary position in the middle of the night, even though cum was still leaking out of her from the previous two fucks. She ended up the night with six orgasms, and I ended up with the three best fucks of my life, before or since.

When I awoke the next morning, Ida Mae was gone. There was a note on top of my pile of clothes: “I guess we’re even. I soaked your hanky and you soaked my panties. With sex like that, I almost wish the Shindig Hall ceremony had been real! Have a great life, Ida Mae.”

I went through with the nuptials, but of course it didn’t last. I was divorced in less than three years. I married again — my second wife Karen was much better suited to me than Sybil– and moved to the Washington, D. C. area.

About fifteen years after my first marriage, Karen and I were at a party hosted by one of the guys she worked with. As my wife and I were talking to the host, the hostess came up to us with two other people and said “Beau and Karen, I’d like you to meet one of my co-workers Jerry, and his wife Ida Mae.”

I dropped my glass — fortunately it was empty — as I was met by a deer-in-the-headlights look by Ida Mae. The same Ida Mae! Except for a few lines in her face she was as gorgeous as she was when I fucked her fifteen years ago.

I remember little of the rest of the evening because all I could think about was that night in The Big Easy when I had the best sex of my life. About all I did get was that Jerry was her second husband — she wasn’t married the first time even as long as I was.

As my wife and I were getting ready to leave I went up to Ida Mae and asked for her phone number “to catch up since we really didn’t have a chance to tonight.”

“I’d like that,” she said as she handed me her business card. Then just before she turned and walked away into the kitchen she whispered “I’d like you to meet your teenage daughter too.”

August 2018
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