New kid on the job (1)
Note: Aye, this would be the first of my stories, and pretty much I expect a few (or not) comments about this before I move on to part two. I know, I know, it's bad. And short. Because I've done this overnight without sleep with only cups of tea for company. Well, maybe just a little. So, er, keep the comments coming. And enjoy. :)
The Withered Scale was blaring with lights like always, with the usual extended line at the entrance. It was, of course, owned by a fur known as Charlie, the only silver dragon in town. At first glance, it may perhaps look like one of the usual pubs people go at night. But on the second or third look, you might want to change the term as the "hook club" that features week long strip shows. Inside, was a wide variety of furs, dancing, drinking and merry making, partying and living up their lives like there's no tomorrow. A part of the place, almost half of it, had lights that were configured to look like a dancing arena. A smaller part, by the sides, was filled by tables and chairs, for couples of groups or pairs who want to make out in the premise. The rest of the room, probably the biggest, was for the drinking and entertainment section, where the strip ramp and the alcohol intake station were located. Furs, who usually go into this place, were either drunkards whose wives or husbands left them, furs who prefer the company of strangers, either same gendered or not, and others who came for the strip show and the merry dancers. But not Fenrir. No, definitely not Fenrir.
The tiger was currently employed by Charlie whom he knew as a friend years ago. His line of work was either as a bouncer, a job he never enjoyed much due to the dullness the same scenes of the pushing public or the pretentious minors who again and again tried access with fake ids and stupid disguises, or as a stripper, when entirely lacking in crew. He stood quite tall, at the height of six feet and four inches, unusual for his family line, which reached around six feet for the tallest. His hair, ebony of color, was due shoulder length but nevertheless neatly tied on his back. His eyes, were brownish, the color which he inherited from his mother. As he inherited that feature from his mother, he inherited being heavy boned from his father, whom he never knew at all. He was wearing the usual clothes he desired to wear for the job: a sleeveless shirt and his favorite tough Baleno jeans. The other bouncers were required to wear the official uniform, which were very uncomfortable and sticky to wear.
His nightly schedule was as follows: at six, he'd be out by the entrance waiting for the barkeep to open the place until six thirty, where he would be at the back entrance, checking whether the employees were on time or not, enforcing the strict "No overtime for tardiness" policy. Then, by seven, he'd be back at the front, lending a hand to the guards, straightening out the lines, checking IDs, kicking out minors. Then, by then, around nine, where the 'show' officially starts, he'd be in, patrolling for misbehaviors, giving out warnings and implementing some of the house rules and his power to throw them out. If needed be, he'd substitute as a bar tender or a stripper, given his knowledge and skills in both tasks. That task continues until around four thirty, where the populace had to be sent home. Fifteen minutes later, he could chat or drink with the employees inside he wished to talk to.
But this time, he wasn't around the entrance enforcing the gate. He wasn't at the back either. Nor was he inside, patrolling. He was upstairs, talking with Charlie, or having a loud conversation with him, who had sent for him immediately for a new project. If he only knew what project.
"WHAT!?"
"Fen, you have to understand," reasoned Charlie while watching the tiger with strained eyes. "You're the only fur who could teach this newcomer. At least, teach this one before you leave this place, okay?"
"So that's my farewell surprise, Charlie?" the tiger snorted. "You'll hand me this... this piece of rubbish just before I leave? You know I hate doing things like this." he looked irritated, claws unsheathed on the polished wood handles on his seat.
The dragon sighed, and snapped his fingers. There was disapproval in his face, but still, there was the essence of patience and understanding. Two furs came, one was a reddish brown semi muscular wolf, who remained by the wall near the door, and another was a badger carrying a rather small case. The smaller fur came closer, and handed the briefcase's content to the dragon. Fenrir shot a puzzled look at him, then at the wolf and back at Charlie.
"I am going to write a blank check for you, Fenrir, for your faithful service."
"I don't need that."
"I'll make it two. If you'll only teach this wolf..."
Scribbling.
"I told you. I'm not going take the job, Charlie. No matter how much you pay me."
There was silence. The tiger paused and blinked, wondering what had happened. He was feeling some sensation he hadn't felt for years. Someone was... massaging him? Soft hands did so, it seems. There was that sensation that his wife, Yvaine, was in the room, very much alive. He was melting under her touch, or whoever it was touching him. Surely it wasn't the badger. He left, hadn't he? And he hadn't smelled of a female's presence here. It was of course impossible to hide the scent. Unless...
He looked around, and found it was the wolf that came in earlier, the one dressed in a peculiar and yet roughly rugged manner. He wondered how such a masculine figure learned to have a feminine touch that could melt anyone. One by one his muscles began to give in, and slowly it began to release pressure. Charlie watched the show, intent of what the tiger's decision would be in the end. Fenrir began to moan as the wolf continued, pressing further on the new found weakness. He found it difficult to resist, his own muscle clad body giving in. He felt his eyes shut tight. After all, what was to be gained in resisting? Only pain, suffering, torture and anguish. But, pain was his strength. Pain was his power, his means of survival. After all these years, he endured the loss of his wife, and he was in torment. But he lived on. He never questioned anything, but strived on, living in sorrow, the passion of his life being alone. Pain was there to comfort him. The image of Yvaine burning in the car, it was a horrid sight to see your whole life being burned. If only she could've survived. If only she could've made it out alive. Their son, oh, their son...
A faint voice ran through his head. The voice of their newly born cub...
"Enough." he spoke in a commanding voice, able to resist the continued lure for pleasure. He had stopped his body from receiving more of this delight. For now, he is safe, as long as he thought of his son. "Alright, I take the job. In one condition."
"Name it." the dragon's eyes gleamed.
"I need seventy thousand for training alone, Charlie. The usual rate will never fall. And two blank checks would be good for my resignation pay instead for the agreed one."
"That's a lot of cash, sir." the wolf addressed Charlie, then looked over at Fenrir.
"No matter. It'd be all worth it." the dragon held out his paw, which the tiger took without question. "Consider it done."
The deal was made.
oOo
"From now on, you shall address me as master." the tiger growled as he ticked off the rules in which he intends on playing out well. "You, Gerard, will be intent on following my word, seeing to it that none will pass unfulfilled."
The wolf looked at him and gulped hard. He signed up for the job and was willing to undergo harsh training, didn't he? How willing was he? He did not know. All he knew was that he needed the job. No matter how dangerous it is. It was a pleasure to serve under the silver dragon. It was already an honor to see him. But what had he truly desired? It was to be fucked by him personally. The big man himself was his goal. He needed to gain personal favor to reach it. And he knew it wasn't too easy. The trick was to lure him, in a room, and start to talk to him, sweetly. Once he gets very much acquainted, he might perhaps want a massage. He'd do the very way of massaging that he learned from his mother. The one that makes one relive the best memories one ever had. Wait. Didn't the tiger just resist that one? It was impossible to do so, but for the first time, the illusion had been broken. He had better solve that one. Or perhaps it was luck. It was perhaps luck that made him snap back to reality.
Gerard Payne, as one would put it, was the wolf that wanted too much to apply for this job. He swore that he'd kill himself if he wasn't able to fulfill his goal. Smaller than Fenrir by a foot, at first thought he wouldn't fulfill the required height. But it was his charm that slithered him in position. His charm that baffled almost anyone he tried the massage on. He wore a thin coat and beneath it, a short sleeved V-neck. For bottoms, he wore hurriedly ironed khakis patterned solely for his moccasins. He, of course, was ambitious, never mentioning the word fail in his life.
The tiger looked at him, curiously at first and then with a look of hate. It never occurred to him that his new master, who was going to teach him the waves of the job, was going to be this tough. It did not go according to his plans, what he thought was going on. Where were they anyway? The two furs were somewhere downtown, inside a wine cellar where most of the rich men's alcohol was stored and brought out. For now, while the night is young, the two are to discuss about wines.
"Listen up, as I will not be repeating such information to anyone. Tonight, I shall be telling you the basics of wines and liquors, which would be quite useful in social gatherings." He said, noting the lack of interest of the fur. Was he really that boring in discussing such things? No matter. "The single most important factor that contributes to a wine's character is the grapes that are used. White wine, which is actually straw to golden-yellow in color, is produced from white grapes, and red wine is produced from red grapes. A blush or rosé wine is light pink in color and is produced from red grapes not fermented with the skins."
"Traditionally, different types of wines are served in glasses of different shapes to enhance their individual characteristics. For example, robust red wines may be served in a glass with a generous, wide bowl and a narrower mouth. The bowl enables the wine to be easily swirled in the glass without spilling to encourage evaporation of some of the volatile compounds. The smaller mouth of the glass concentrates the ensuing aroma--sometimes referred to as the bouquet--so that the nose can readily appreciate the wine's aroma. Sparkling wines are often served in tall, narrow glasses that clearly display the beautiful bubbles as they rise to the surface. Wine can be enjoyed in any glass, however, and ultimately, personal preference should determine the type of glass used."
"Now," the teacher smiled and snatched an upright bottle from a table nearby, though there was no evidence that it had been drunk from by anyone nor opened before. "You shall have a first try what bad wine tastes like." He got a small glass, filled it to the top and then gave it to his pupil. "Drink."
The wolf drinks so, and made an awful squelching noise.
"That, is because the wine had been spoiled by improper storage. Wines last best if bottled with little or no air space in the bottle. The traditional closure for a wine bottle is a stopper made from the bark of the cork oak tree, which when properly used prevents air from entering the wine. Optimally, wine bottles should be stored horizontally, enabling contact between the wine in the bottle and the cork. This prevents the cork from drying out and letting oxygen to seep into the bottle. As you can see, the cork bottle here is no longer in good condition." He waved the dried stopper impatiently and threw it aside. He turned to face the compartments, browsing through the different alcohol stored. He looked over at his pupil and raised a questioning look whether he should continue. "Should I continue, or both of us should retire to the quarters?"
"Please do, sir." it was the dutiful reply. The sound was raspy, as if discouraged by the first taste of the drink.
"We shall move on, then." There was a pause and the faint sound of small round flasks being brought down on the table before them, each containing different liquids. The wolf now, seemed to be more amazed by such things, having been caught his attention. "The distinctive aroma of brandy is due to the presence of traces of higher alcohols and volatile oils. The very high alcoholic content of the raw spirits is reduced somewhat by aging and is adjusted usually to 40 to 45 percent by dilution with water when the brandy is bottled for sale. Perhaps the most famous brandy is cognac, named after a town in the wine-producing department of Charente, France. The amber-hued cognac is made by distilling white wine, which is then aged in an oak cask. Other notable brandies are kirsch, produced in the Alsace area of France, in Switzerland, and in the Black Forest region of Germany, by distilling the fermented juice of the black morello cherry; and šljivovica, a dry, colorless plum brandy made in the Balkans."
"Gin, is distilled from grain, and deriving its flavor principally from an infusion of juniper berries. The two principal kinds of gin are the American or English variety, usually described as London gin or dry gin, and the Dutch type, called Geneva schnapps or Hollands. Dry gin is prepared from grain alcohol that has been purified by fractional distillation. The purified alcohol is then mixed with juniper berries and other flavoring agents, distilled once more, and diluted to approximately 80 or 90 proof."
The taller fur opened the last bottle, which was labeled rum and drunk a favorable amount of it, leaving nearly half of its contents drained in one gulp. "Rum, is produced by the distillation of various fermented cane sugar products. The most common mixtures used in making rum consist of molasses and water or sugar and water. Another type of rum is made by fermenting a mixture of the scum formed when the raw juice of the sugarcane is heated with molasses, water, and "dunder," the residue left after the refining of sugar." He wiped his mouth free of alcohol. "Take your time, and drink from each of the bottles. I want to see how well you do them."
The words sunk in slowly as the dazed wolf interpreted the words slowly. He was to drink from the bottles? What would happen if he couldn't make it? He wasn't ready yet. He hadn't drunk heavy alcohol in his life. Gerard, the wolf of a few talents, was sure he couldn't do it. He took a step backward, with a terrified face. His hands flew into panic. But his teacher was there, thoughtful of the future events that would eventually come its way. He had blocked his way, soothed him, stroked him softly and led him to the table where the liquid drinks waited. He stared at them, warily taking one bottle at first and then closing in to kiss the rim. He gulped and finished one, and then moved in to the others. Quickly now, filled with renewed heat forming in his stomach, he took the remaining alcohol into his mouth and drank it in mouthfuls, not caring whether if some spilled from his mouth. His mentor stood behind him, caressing his back as he gulped it down, the fiery liquids he was introduced to just now. It wasn't that bad. In fact, he was feeling warm, an improvement from the previous coolness he felt when they settled in the room. Perhaps that was the reason why people in the wine cellar drank from wines afterwards. Perhaps what he was feeling was good. Just a bit of drowsiness...
"Calm now, aren't we?" Fenrir whispered in his ear. A brief nod came afterwards. "Now, I should explain the effects of alcohol in large quantities. Drinks such as these, are stronger once they age, gaining favor and strength as time passes. Effects, when such are drunk in a number of shots are disastrous. They give headaches and induce vomiting. Drowsiness could also be another factor. Tonight, I shall demonstrate what you are most willing to learn from me, pup, now that you are very much calm in your state. As master, I will have total control of you. I, Fenrir Khan, your present master, will conduct things that you will find quite offensive. Nevertheless, you, my pet, will not object."
The wolf felt his master's paws creeping down to his hips where it established for quite a while. His legs trembled continuously, and in a minute he would fall. The feeling of being caressed was invigorating, especially when done by expert hands. The craft was trickier, and solely depended on the master's experience. A paw slowly undid his belt, which made him emit a low moan. He wanted this. In fact, his thought braced and pondered for a while, why was he looking for the dragon, where the tiger, who was making him learn things, things that were new to his world, was here. Despite the drowsiness, he felt his way through, and led his company to the table where the little drinking spree started. He felt ready for this. He felt willing to give himself to him.
oOo
Fenrir had brought with him the drunken student of his to his apartment, where he planned on spending the night. His student, of course, would not object in the morning. He had to make what he intends on doing faster than expected. Sessions like these aren't supposed to be made in a hurry, for the enjoyment would literally fade. Cradled in his arms was Gerard, his eyes closed. So far he hadn't vomited again; the last time was at the cellar. It wouldn't be a problem at all. Carefully, he heaved the male to the bed, intent of taking him before he blacks out completely. A soft kiss planted on his cheek before he did so, and a smile before the two bodies parted. He anticipated on giving the service worth of the money paid to him. The jacket the wolf wore found itself on the floor already, and so is his leather belt. A sigh of relief filled him.
He positioned himself straddled on top of the wolf as he continued to remove the articles. First, of course, the wolf's upper clothes were removed. By then he laid himself comfortably and began nuzzling the neck. He gave a small thrust forward, to reveal what was to be done ahead. The wolf, of course, hadn't been idle while his master had been busy attending him. His hands started to undress him and himself. Squeals of delight came as he felt the bare muscled body of the tiger on top of him, slightly sweaty now. He hadn't been this aroused before. And never in his entire life did he imagine that he would get down like this. It was his first time.
"Ready to get down for the tiger, kid?"
Aroused and groggy, the wolf nodded as he waited for him to remove the remaining clothes strapped on that marvelously toned mass. He couldn't wait any longer for that piece of meat penetrating his ass for the very first time. At one point, he remembered, that feline males had barbs, which were a special part of their design. He reminded himself of a comment made by a friend of his a few months ago, how painful it was especially for first timers to experience cats to undo you. It would hurt, of course, but it would be pleasurable too. Especially if done by this very one. By now, very few words registered, even slower than before. He couldn't help it but close his eyes and let sleep take him. Probably it was good. It would take away the pain. His head was filled with disturbing thoughts that needed to be turned away. He couldn't fight it now, not since he's drunk dead.
"Wake up."
No, he couldn't wake up. His eyes were being stubborn now. Even though he wanted so much to open them, he couldn't. Gerard tried opening his mouth, but instead, it relaxed even more and gave out a sigh of reprieve. He was drowning slowly into the dark shadow that was stalking him earlier. A few slaps across the face failed in their attempt. Perhaps, if he stopped resisting, if he'd rest now...
"Argh!" the wolf yelled as he woke up in a jolt. To his surprise, Fenrir had already succeeded in penetrating him. The pain was quite real, searing. It tore him from his dream, from the dream that was starting to consume him. They were right. It was painful. He wondered, how thick and long the cock had been. He wasn't around to see it. He wasn't conscious. But there was only one way to find out.
"I told you to wake up." the tiger thrusted again, ramming the full length inside now.
Tears began to swell upon the wolf's eyes now, tears filled with extreme pain. The barbs were catching up now, and were scraping the walls of his anus slowly, as it was crammed in with heavy thick meat. He felt it was about six or seven inches in length and almost two inches thick. And he knew too, that it was stretching him inside, giving both pleasure and hurting. He didn't know how long it would last, just that he knew it was just beginning.
"Hey Fenrir." the voice came from the door of the bedroom. Fenrir stopped to listen at it. "How come you didn't call us to help you with this one?"
"Yeah, we were just looking for some fun, after all." another fur beside the first one. There were cheers that followed the remark.
By the shadows that Gerard could make out, there were two more, just behind them. Four all in all. A bull, a lion, a wolf and a stallion. He was terrified, if what he was thinking was correct. That all of them were going to have a go with him.
"Yeah, hold your horses. I'll let you folk have a go. One at a time, just as I finish."