Fiends With Benefits
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.