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Fiends With Benefits

By Johnny Peregrine


My name is Ben Watts. My life was filled with farming, girls and hunting until my idiot neighbor bit me one full moon and turned me into a werewolf. Sure, farming was easier when you can throw a small car, but my days of parties and party girls had to come to an end. The pack soon became my family and I learned to exist with my secret carefully hidden. Life was good until my pack leader made a deal to save the pack. He gave up his strongest fighter, me, to the vampire Mistress of the City to be her slave. Now I find myself as her blood donor, love slave and guardian. Sounds great until you realize that her rivals want her and her new guard wolf dead!



I opened one eye and tried to control my breathing. She stood in front of me and I could see her right boot tapping softly, a habit she had when she was getting impatient.

"I know you're awake, Cub. I can hear your heart. Get up."

Her voice had that cold edge that got me moving. If I didn't, she would make me move. Those boots had broken my ribs, nose, jaw and other bones. I knew that when she had them on, she meant business. In those boots was a pair of pale, long, muscular legs. Out of habit I followed them up to see what she wore today. Good, she had on a very short black dress that clung to her like a second skin. She loved that dress and would hate to get blood, my blood, on it. As usual, she was braless. She had small firm breasts, which I liked. My youth had been spent in the "bigger is better" thought process, but now, I simply wanted hers. Her name was Valda and she owned me.

I sat up and raised my eyes to look at her face through my messy hair. If Valhalla sent down a Valkyrie to see over me and break me, this was she. Her face was long, beautiful without a touch of makeup and flawless skin. Her eyes were a blue that reminded me of the sky in January, dark and cold. They were slightly elongated by the tight ponytail she wore; her hair was almost white it was so blonde, flowing down to her lower back. She wasn't exactly scowling, but she sure as Hell wasn't holding a plate of cookies in her hand either. Thank God, an S and M version of June Cleaver is not what anyone needs.

"How are you tonight, Mistress?" The slight emphasis I put on "Mistress" was a far cry from the days I would use the "ss" to make it a hiss passing through my teeth, a curse. She even let me get away with it these days, usually.

"I am well, Cub. Now get up, I have a lesson for you."

She held out her hand for me and I paused. She never helped me off my bed, a small mattress at the foot of her bed. She also said she had a lesson for me. In the past she always told me, "You must be taught a lesson." The curriculum was almost always some sort of abuse, physical usually, sometimes it was worse.

I took her hand and felt how cool it was, a vampire only was warm after feeding, and stood to face her. I was a little taller than her even when she wore those boots but I made sure to keep my eyes lowered. I didn't fear her enthralling me, as a werewolf I was immune. I feared her wrath if she thought I was being defiant. After her tantrum last night at the play, I wasn't going to take any chances.

I pulled the hair back from my neck and shoulders and turned my head so she could feed. I was her favorite she said, she lived for centuries but I tasted best. I bet that's what she told all the boys, yet I hoped it was true. The sting of her bite didn't come, instead her cool hand pulled on my chin so I was looking her square in the eyes.

"I will feed later, Benjamin. Right now I want to show you something." Her voice was calm, almost gentle.

She turned and started to walk away but stopped when she saw I hesitated. I couldn't remember her calling me Benjamin, ever. She held out her hand and beckoned again.