Tethered, Chapter 4 Teaser

Elle moved swiftly down the long hallway, her heart pounding as she drew closer to the room where Sarge was currently training. She hadn’t even taken the time to clean herself off before hastening out of Ash’s room. She could tell from the tone of his voice that he was extremely displeased with her, and she knew from personal experience that it wasn’t wise to keep him waiting.

She shivered as the images of what may be waiting for her when she answered his summons flashed through her mind.  Reaching his door, she slowed her pace, and tried to regulate her breathing so she would appear calm as she walked into the room. Her eyes settled on him, and her face blanched as she felt the fury emanating from him in waves.

His displeasure flowed across her heated skin like ice, and successfully erased the passion that had built during her episode with Ash. Dejection settled on her naked shoulders like a shroud as she recognized the disappointment lacing his strong features, evident in the stiffness of his movements. Elle dropped to her knees in the corner of the room, her heart pounding as she waited for her Sir’s attention.

Sarge had his back to the door, and resisted the urge to turn around as it opened. He didn’t hear Elle walk into the room, but he could feel her presence as she entered behind him. The sheer force of the possessive rage that flooded him as he remembered the image of his beautiful submissive being bathed with another man’s cum rocked him to his core.

His knuckles whitened as he gripped the edge of the table before him. Memories flashed unbidden through his mind; each image of Elle’s obvious hunger for and enjoyment of the other man felt like a dagger of betrayal in his heart. She had deliberately disobeyed him. She had made the conscious choice to break the trust of the man she had pledged her heart, her body, and her passion to serve.

Taut muscles trembled as he wrestled with his inner dilemma. His hand, however, was stable by the time that he reached for the intercom; his voice was steady when he issued instructions to the faceless receptionist that answered. He slowly turned when he heard the door open again, his face emotionless as he watched his team sedate Zhanna and transport her to the holding room for cleansing and rest.

Sarge glanced through the glass partition only long enough to assure himself that his directions for Ash were also being followed, and then turned away. He knew that it was a necessity to see to the physical and hygienic needs of his “guests,” but he simply didn’t trust himself to look at the other man under the present circumstances. He had an irrational and instinctive need to do the man harm, and that was a lack of control in himself that he intended to remedy.

He didn’t match glances with any of his staff as they carried out his commands. The nonchalance of his large frame as he leaned against the wall was in stark contrast to the piercing intensity of his gaze as it finally came to rest upon the source of his internal conflict. Anger flushed through him again as his eyes travelled over the sticky evidence of her disobedience.

His fists clenched as he sought to dampen his feelings; he’d never once touched her, much less been tempted to discipline her for a transgression, while he was upset.  Even though she’d violated his trust, he’d never violated the promises he’d made to her, and he definitely wasn’t going to break those vows now.

Sarge stood there in the silence as seconds stretched into uncomfortable moments. His deep blue eyes lingered on her bowed head, tracing her exquisite features before they roamed further down her body. The corner of his lips twitched in begrudging approval of her submissive pose; the anger receded as he felt his iron mask of self control slip back into place, once more allowing him to cage his negative emotions.

The minx knew that his eyes would be drawn to the sight of her heavy breasts, the taut tips peeking from behind a curtain of ebony hair, he thought to himself. She knew how he loved the contrast of it laying against her alabaster skin, how it taunted his fingers with its long waves. His gaze traveled to her hands resting quietly on her spread thighs, the faint tremble of her fingertips the only outward sign of her anxiety.

Her slender hips rested on her heels, her knees spaced far apart to give him full access to the most secret part of her. He realized, as he scrutinized her positioning, that she had instinctively bowed to his dominance. She was apologizing for her behavior in the only way she knew how. He pushed himself away from the wall and slowly stalked toward her. His acute stare watched her trembling increase as he closed the distance between them.

His steps, slow and measured though they were, came to an abrupt halt as the beautiful woman on her knees shrank away from his presence.

Elle—his magnificent, passionate, rebellious Elle—feared him.

Fast upon the heels of that stunning realization, an overwhelming sense of guilt slammed into him. Images of love and adoration shining brightly from her eyes flashed through his mind, refusing to reconcile with the dejected woman in front of him. Memories of her body begging for his touch, his passion, his punishment warred with the image of her distrust.

He wracked his mind, thinking of all the times they’d enacted this same scene in the past. Not once had she ever broken her word to him. Not one single time had she ever reacted to another man without his approval, without his express instruction. Elle had given herself over to his control…her body, her pleasure, her pain were his to command. Why, then, had she betrayed him?

Sarge tried to remember their last “play date” and suddenly, all of the anger he’d felt toward her for her disobedience evaporated. How long had it been since he’d ignored everything and everyone but the exquisite creature poised so delicately before him? She was a sexually insatiable woman, filled with a hunger only he’d been able to satisfy. How long since the last time he’d devoted himself to giving her what she craved?

In that moment of brutal clarity, the memories of watching her performance with Ash took on a whole new meaning. A serene mask of calm enveloped Sarge as the realization slowly dawned on him.

He had failed her.

He had gotten so caught up in the intricacies of their daily routine at the “office” that he’d neglected her needs. His eyes narrowed as he studied her diminutive form; his fingers slipped into his pocket and softly stroked the strip of leather he always kept there. Sensual heat replaced the previous anger in his eyes as he withdrew the small studded collar.

Her wayward actions could not go unpunished; regardless of the reasoning, she had chosen to disobey. A wicked smile played across his chiseled features and he felt desire stir to life within him as the thought of her pleas for release played through his mind. Perhaps it was time to remind her why she belonged to him…and him alone. 

To be continued...

I'm sorry for the delay, friends, but I've been distracted by several larger editing projects recently. Without further ado, here is the teaser for the next installment of Love, Be-Were!

Love, Be-Were! Ch. 3 Teaser

Silence crept over the darkened glade, soothing the chaotic motions and sounds of all encased within its depths. Birds and beasts alike felt its serene shroud settling upon their brows, lulling their frantic movements with a deep calm. Even the merry chirping of crickets and other nocturnal bug life stilled as an expectant hush fell across the surrounding forest.

One by one, small lights began clicking to life. The soft glow from the fixtures spread with a slow and methodical rhythm, illuminating a low stone wall that ran in an arc along the center of the clearing. The luminaries spread from the only break in that border, a majestically hand-hewn arch with a wrought iron gate, and drifted along the paving stones of a long pathway.

The soft glow raced along the stones, casting shadows over the exquisite landscaping that bordered its path.  Beautiful blooms, their colors made indeterminate by the looming darkness, seemed to nod in greeting as the light spread. Reaching the end of the stones, the lights split in opposite directions, and morphed into larger fixtures in a semi-circle that paralleled the low stone border.

Large spot lights hummed as light poured from them, the glow spreading across vast amounts of layered stone. The procession finally came to a halt as the last few fixtures clicked on, casting illumination along the entire base of the enormous three-story structure that stood in sharp relief against the darkness. The tall rock walls flowed seamlessly from the cliff behind them, each stone appearing as if it had been molded from the mountain face instead of being hewn by the hands of men.  

Over the space of two hundred years, Werehaven Manor had remained a beacon of hope and prosperity for the neighboring towns. Although it had undergone numerous renovations during that time, the aura of serenity it exuded had never wavered. With its lofty parapets, tall columns, and beautifully manicured grounds, the manor house presented an impressive façade. It was, however, more than it seemed; the building’s founder, Rhochlan Werehaven, had designed it for a dual purpose.

Many human patrons had frequented its halls and given wonderful reviews of the Werehaven Manor Bed and Breakfast Inn as a secluded retreat. The B&B boasted a fully staffed kitchen that made it possible to offer three home-cooked meals a day; it wasn’t unusual for the dining room to be packed at each of them, by both customers and people just walking in off the street. It even offered a gift store that sold hand-made crafts, and a harvest season farmer’s market that encouraged young farmers and children to sell their home-grown produce.

Beyond the hustle of the business front, and out of the path of any curious humans, deep hallways pushed back through the mountain itself. The stones in those tunnels were much older, much heavier. They housed a multitude of rooms designed specifically to be used as homes for Weres: shifters, individuals that were as much beast as human. After having lost his mother in childbirth along with his younger sister, and his father murdered by a rival Were species, Rhochlan built the Inn to preface a half-way house for orphaned Were children.

As Alpha of the Werehaven rabbit colony, Rhochlan recognized the need to provide a future for abandoned kittens—Were-rabbit children—because their genealogy was a bit different from other shifter species. A kit was born in human form to both parents, but unlike wolves or cats, the beast didn’t manifest upon puberty; instead, it was locked from birth inside a cage in the babe’s mind. Upon the child’s fifth birthday, a visit would be scheduled with the Alpha to unlock the beast, allowing the two halves of the kit’s psyche to merge and become whole.  

If, for some reason, the cage remained unopened…the consequences to the child were often terrible to behold. In the beast’s desperation to be free, the kit’s mind would be ravaged; all too often, damaged beyond repair. Usually, this was as a result of a family tragedy or extenuating circumstances that removed the kitten from an Alpha’s influence and ability to perform the rites necessary. Running a licensed shelter for troubled youth provided Rhochlan with a unique opportunity to seek out those children who may benefit the most from an Alpha’s presence.

There were times when he succeeded, happy moments when he drew the children away from the madness and back into the light. He’d bring them back to the Manor, and the love of his sister and the other Weres at the compound would help them come to peace with their life. When they were ready, they’d make the transition to the rabbit colony, granted the ability to grow and prosper as a part of the community.

Occasionally, however, there were times when success was no longer an option.  Exhaustion would force him to leave the minds of those children who were too plagued with pain, terror, and agony to save.  There was always the threat of his own mind being lost when he tarried too long in those dark places, drowning in the horror that came to life when a child’s Were had been caged for too long. He fought for them, wrestled with their demons, until he risked his very sanity in his bid for their freedom. 

Hard decisions had to be made then; decisions for the safety and security of those around the child as well as the need to preserve the secrecy of their heritage that made Rhochlan sick to his very soul. Only when the child’s mind held no hope of recovery would he relent and make the little one’s passing as painless as possible. He’d always chosen to ignore the fact that eventually he was destined to fail…refused to accept that there would come a day when a mind he tried to save would bring an end to his own life.

He was the Werehaven Alpha, and the failure to try was not an option.

*****

After the last light switch clicked into place, Riocha closed the fuse cabinet door. Her eyes swept over the marble kitchen counters as she opened cabinet and refrigerator doors, mentally checking off inventory items that she’d need to restock. She wandered throughout the manor as she checked the locks on doors and windows. Finally satisfied that all security measures were in place, she scanned the yard through one of the front foyer windows and then headed toward her personal chambers.

The unusual silence within the Inn’s walls pressed against her senses, heavy and oppressive. She sighed, exasperated with herself; after all the times that the noise of the children drove her to the point of madness, she couldn’t enjoy their absence either. As acting Alpha Doe, she was used to handling a constant barrage from the little ones, and felt a bit out of sorts as she wandered through the empty rooms. The stone walls felt hollow and bare without their laughter ringing through the halls.

Riocha felt contentment envelope her as she entered the door of her personal burrow. Soft light filtered from recessed sconces on the walls, casting gentle shadows throughout the three rooms. She softly tread towards the kitchen, pausing when she reached the fully stocked wine cabinet installed there. Her fingers trailed along the corked bottles as she selected her favorite vintage and pulled it from the shelf. As she often did, she offered a silent prayer of gratitude that the Colony maintained its own personal vineyard, with recipes for fine wines that had been passed down for generations.

Her wine goblet in hand, she meandered toward the large porcelain tub in the bathroom. Her brother had spared no expense when she’d decorated her burrow, as he knew she’d be making a permanent home at the Inn instead of the Colony. She balanced on the edge as she turned the knobs, the steady thrum of the water in the basin soothing her frazzled nerves. Setting her goblet down, she added a light touch of mint oil to her bath. Disrobing quickly and turning the water off, she stepped into the tub, and sank her lithe form into the steaming water with a sigh.

Retrieving her wine from the nearby counter, she took a sip. She closed her eyes in appreciation as the deep fruit and earthen tones swirled around her tongue. Taking another sip, she sank further into the bath and felt her stressed muscles begin to relax. The fresh, effervescent mint essence rejuvenated her tired body, soothing her aching feet and back. Her mind drifted to the male Betas that assisted her at the Inn, and wished for a fleeting moment that they’d already returned after dropping the children off for their monthly fieldtrip to the Colony. Another sip and they, too, were forgotten as she felt her mind enter a meditative state.

Her eyelids fluttered open as she realized her water had cooled. Surprised that she’d relaxed enough to nap in the tub, she washed quickly before she stepped out of the water. Chill bumps raced along her skin as she dried herself off, not bothering to dress as she headed toward her bed, her nest. The greatest of all her comforts, it brought her the most pleasure and was truly worthy of an Alpha.

A small smile graced her lips as she looked at it; oversized and round, the mattress was recessed into the frame. Soft, downy quilts and comforters piled on top, with fluffy pillows galore; it was sized to easily accommodate her beast and the several young kits that inevitably snuck into her room in the middle of the night. When in human form, her diminutive size was dwarfed as she snuggled in for some much needed rest.

Several hours later, she began to rouse as she felt her beast stir within. Her inner rabbit had been disturbed from slumber; keeping her eyes closed, she allowed it to extend her senses to figure out why. New scents teased her nostrils, but her suddenly tense muscles relaxed as she realized they were familiar to her. Warm chocolate with a hint of strawberries made her think of Raycer. Mocha with a splash of coconut brought Raevin’s face to mind. Caramel and banana instantly sprang forth an image of Ridge. Her lips curled into a sleepy smile; the triplets were home.

Riocha allowed her rabbit to enhance her hearing even further. She could just barely make out their quiet steps as the three males approached her bed, and smiled to herself as she sensed their hesitation. She peeped through one eye to find them watching her, letting them know she was aware of their presence and wouldn’t allow her beast to lash out at them. She heard at least one sharp intake of breath as she languidly stretched and turned over on her back, allowing the quilt she was under to slip to her waist. The cool breeze from the door felt delightful over her flushed skin as one of the brothers closed it, the other two making their way over to where she lay.

To Be Continued...

"Love, Be-Were!" Ch. 02 Teaser

~~~ Greetings all! I can't thank you enough for the outpouring of support you've given me on the first chapter of this new series. Please remember that your feedback is always taken seriously and shapes the future of each storyline. There was such a flood of interest and inquiry about the young child, Rye, that my Muse decided his story needed to be shared. Will he be the center of the bond that draws our two main characters together? Will Nyrra's love and Rhochlan's sense of duty allow them to unite? ~~~

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For hours, without ceasing or slowing down, the noise continued. The sound of metal clashing against metal—wires squealing in protest and steel bars slamming against each other—was relentless; it echoed across the empty vastness surrounding its source. 

<Chink>

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The wrenching notes never wavered in their rhythm. Although sometimes louder, sometimes softer, the cadence remained uninterrupted.  In the darkened gloom, surrounded on all sides by an empty waste land, was a small steel cage; the sound appeared to be coming from the box, issuing forth every time the structure shuddered from the actions of its solitary occupant.

The metal bars, although unfazed and untouched on the outside surface, looked a bit different on the interior. Long deep gouges had been furrowed down their length, dried blood in the grooves attesting to the number of times the creature had dug its claws into them. Sharp niches marked the spaces where it had desperately chewed against the metal wires between the bars until its gums, too, were raw.

The noise began to slow, becoming weaker, until it finally came to a complete stop. The weary creature came to rest in the middle of the cage, its sides heaving as it drew desperate breaths into lungs too tired to function properly. Its head drooping low in front of its shoulders as it hunched miserably in the middle of the floor, the beast shuddered as its mind reached out to a human child; it reached out to the only other living being with whom it shared a connection. It scoured his young psyche, searching for the strength to continue.

Water leaked from the creature’s eyes as it sensed the pain the boy tried so hard to ignore. Its heart ached more deeply than a broken body ever could as it shared in the boy’s despair, wishing it could burst forth from the unbreakable cage and offer the child sanctuary as no other could do. For two long years, it had fought with a fierce determination to escape the restraints; guilt over the mental anguish the boy endured as it did so forced the beast to stop, to rest, so the boy didn’t go insane.

A couple of months ago, it had all but given up hope. The boy didn’t think about the creature anymore; time, new faces, and new places had allowed the child to bury all memories of the day his life changed. He’d slowly begun to forget his parents, his heritage, and all the dark, evil thoughts that were tied to them. He stopped thinking about the creature in the box, and it curled up and dozed in fitful despair. It didn’t like causing the boy pain, so it had made the decision to hibernate, and leave him be.

The creature raised its head, staring at the stark interior of the cage. Through the bars, it could just make out the shape of the large lock on the door.  Concentrating hard, the beast forced the long ears that drooped to the ground to once again stand tall and proud.  Testing the tenuous bond it held with the boy, and feeling his fear and his pain again, the beast felt a new infusion of determination strengthen its weary limbs.

Flexing its paws, feeling the dewclaws that had finally regenerated after being ripped out by the wire mesh, the creature stood. Tucking its long, powerful hind legs underneath it and wiggling its fluffy tail, the beast’s heart rate steadied as it remembered its purpose. Calming its mind, bringing itself under control, it remembered what had awoken it from the deep slumber.

The Keeper of the Key had finally come.

The creature didn’t know how, or why, or by what stroke of fate; all it knew was that the Keeper had finally come to set it free. It could feel the truth in the serenity that had flooded the boy’s mind, the temporary peace that had invaded the darkness with a soft, white glow. The beast had stirred back to life then, its coma disturbed by the sheer power radiating from the being the boy had come in contact with.

Pure instinct guided the young creature’s movements as it stretched lethargic limbs and clambered to its feet. It felt the need to renew its struggle to break free; it needed to make sure the Keeper was aware of its existence and the freedom that it craved. The beast knew that in order for the Keeper to use the key to unlock the cage, the child had to be ready.

To be ready, the boy was going to have to be reminded of what, and who, he was supposed to be. The beast’s soft, golden fur shone softly as it paused to look in the reflection it could just barely see on the dull metal bars. Its pale blue eyes narrowed in determination as it realized it was not just a mindless creature, a feral beast. Taking a deep breath, the young rabbit gazed deeply into its own eyes as it felt strength flowing back through its veins.

As before, it lunged at the wall of steel, hurling the full weight of its body against the bars. The metal sound echoed again in the darkness, and the rabbit winced as it felt the child flinch, his agony racing back to the creature through their bond. Back and forth it went; first one side of the cage then the other. The force from the rabbit’s body caused the boy’s mind to lash out, caused the dark memories to awaken, and begin to chase each other in the gloom once again.

It was time for the boy, his boy, to remember.

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Lulled by the silence that had draped over the children’s home as the last child finally drifted off to sleep, the psychiatrist assigned to the facility sank into his office chair. To say it had been a rough day would be a bit of an understatement; one of his charges had been especially difficult, and that had only gotten worse as the evening progressed. Dr. Stanley Rosch shook his head in exasperation. The boy, Rye, was normally so soft spoken, respectful, considerate…he just couldn’t understand what caused the child to lash out with such hostility, and with so little warning.

Clicking the keys on his laptop, he called up the boy’s file. There was very little information available on the circumstances leading up to his admission to the orphanage. Even after working with Rye on a daily basis for the last six months, Stanley had made very little progress on evaluating the small child. Although he exhibited a friendly disposition when engaged, the boy remained introverted and refused to revisit (even in therapy) the night of his parent’s death.

The only person that the doctor had witnessed Rye interacting with on a regular basis was the worker assigned to his case, Ryanyrra Ambresh. Although she worked with several of the children in the center, she seemed almost drawn to the little waif; when he had his manic episodes, she appeared to be the only one that could bring him back from them. Rye called her Nyrra, being unable to pronounce her full name when she first came there, and the name had stuck.

Stanley fished a pen out of his desk drawer and a sticky note pad. He jotted down a few sentences so that he’d remember to give Nyrra a call first thing in the morning and fill her in on the difficulties of the day. He finished the note and laying the pen down beside his computer, closed his tired eyes and placed his head in his hands. His reprieve was cut short the moment a blood-curdling scream echoed down the corridor near his office.

His head jerked upright and his eyes opened as he instantly pushed his chair away from his desk and stood. Moving without conscious thought, he closed the distance to his office door in time to see a nurse running down the hallway. He matched the woman’s swift pace as he followed her to the room she had just entered, and a frown creased his brow as he identified the terrified youth tossing on the bed.

Stanley watched the young woman press her hands against Rye’s forehead, checking for a temperature. She looked up at him and shook her head, her expression clearly puzzled. Although his small frame was broken out in a cold sweat, the doctor presumed it was from whatever mental trauma the boy was fighting and not a result of any type of fever. He moved closer to the bed, reaching out with his own hands to smooth the hair from the child’s face as he shook him gently, trying to ease him awake.

He pulled his hand back, thankful for his quick reflexes, when the boy’s body arched in sudden pain. Rye’s eyes jerked open, but it was obvious to the doctor and the nurse both that whatever he was seeing wasn’t visible to them. His feet and arms began churning as he violently pushed himself backwards with his feet, scrambling to get to the corner and put his back against it. Sobs wracked his young frame, broken by a harsh cry as he threw his arms up over his head, as though shielding himself.

Observing his behavior for a brief moment, it didn’t take the doctor long to realize that all his murmured attempts to soothe the child were having no affect. It was obvious that the boy was convinced he was being attacked by something, and Stanley was afraid he was going to go into shock if they couldn’t do something to get him calmed down. He did the first thing that came to mind; he pulled his cell phone from his pocket, and hit the speed-dial for Nyrra’s home phone.

He shared a look of dismay with the nurse as the child jerked again; pulling his arms and legs in tightly as he huddled in the corner. Every time the caretaker would reach for him, he’d cry out like he’d been hurt. Stanley was getting frustrated, the incessant ringing of the phone in his hand not offering him the solution he’d been hoping for. Finally, on the fifth or sixth ring, a young woman’s drowsy voice came on the line as she answered his call.

“I’m sorry to disturb you at this hour, Ms. Ambresh. You requested that we contact you if there were any developments with Rye that required your immediate attention. I’m afraid if that has ever been true, it is now.”

Struggling out of the sleep induced stupor in which she’d answered the phone, Ryanyrra scrambled to match the voice with a face from her memory. An image of friendly green eyes framed by thin, wire-rimmed glasses and an easy smile sprang to mind. She tried to focus on his words for the few seconds it took her addled brain to catch up to speed.

“Dr. Rosch? What’s wrong? Has something happened?”

It only took a moment of his urgent explanation before she was throwing the quilt off of her, and swinging her legs off of the bed. She moved swiftly to her closet, the phone close to her ear as she grabbed the closest shirt and pair of pants she could find. Dressing with haste and grabbing her keys off of the kitchen table, she hung up with the doctor just to call him back immediately on her cell phone.

She cringed as she heard Rye’s terrified voice in the background. Forcing herself to find her purse, her heart pounded as she tried listening to the doctor’s words, but all she could focus on was the sound of the boy’s distress. In less than ten minutes from the time the phone rang, she was in her car and pulling out of the driveway.

To Be Continued...

Easter Teaser!

Ok guys...I started writing this one as an entry for our Easter Contest. Instead, it ended up being a full blown chapter that I've decided to post on Literotica. Read the teaser, and then let me know what you think I should  use as a title! Enjoy!

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Tendrils of mist curled lazily between the trees towering overhead, undisturbed as was the quiet morning air. A shadow passed through the underbrush; a well-muscled harbinger of destruction moved swiftly on four padded feet, his hackles rising as he caught another faint whiff of his prey’s scent. Hunger gnawed at him, ripping at his insides as he forced his feet to tread lightly. He dropped into a slow stalk, every inch of his body taut as a spring as he closed the distance between himself and his next meal. Disappointment washed over him as he peered through the last bit of foliage and realized exactly what it was that he’d been tracking so diligently.

Piercing yellow eyes studied him with an intense stare as he brought himself up short, abruptly dropping back on his haunches as a small whine escaped his throat. His prey was, indeed, a rabbit as he’d thought…but it wasn’t just a rabbit. Unfortunately, the keen human intelligence in that gaze identified this particular fuzzy treat as a Were: a shifter, a hybrid between the animal realm and the human world. Although the massive creature would feed him for a long time, he knew without hesitation that attacking it would mean the end of his own life. As hungry as he was, that wasn’t a price he was willing to pay.

Rhochlan watched the wolf’s motions carefully. He wasn’t worried for his personal safety, but he was concerned about the beast’s state of mind. He could sense the aura of desperation radiating from his stalker. Despite being heavily muscled, the wolf appeared malnourished and the way it was licking its muzzle while watching him indicated that hunger may force it into action. He was relieved to see the decision to stand down finally reflect in the animal’s eyes; he wouldn’t have to euthanize it to protect the other members of his colony.

Struck by inspiration, he hopped slowly toward the wolf where it was reclining with its chin on its paws. The large animal raised its head as he approached and watched him with a wary alertness, body tense and ready to flee. Rhochlan dipped his nose to the ground, nodding his head at the wolf as he turned and hopped away. He paused and inclined his head again, hoping the canine would get the message. He waited patiently as the animal finally realized he wanted to be followed, and slowly padded over behind him. The Were lead the wolf deeper into the woods, pausing every so often to make sure he was still trailing behind.

Finally making it to the copse of laurel he was looking for, he hopped to the side of the entrance and motioned for the wolf to precede him. If he could have smiled while in his animal form, he would have done so at the incredulous look he received from the other animal. While on his rounds in the early dawn, he’d run across the freshly killed carcass of a small deer that had most likely run afoul of another wolf. The dew had been heavy, making identification of the hunter difficult at best.

He’d been contemplating ideas on corpse disposal to keep the younger members from running across it. He figured that delivering it as a meal to another hunter, one who was capable of showing common sense and intelligence even in the midst of its hunger, would be a prime solution to his dilemma. The wolf bowed its head to him in silent gratitude as it walked toward the corpse, settling in for the best meal it had eaten in weeks. Satisfied that the mess would be taken care of, Rhochlan turned his back on the grisly scene and hopped back through the forest to pick up his rounds where he’d left off.

After an uneventful hour, the large Were slowed as he crept toward the most dangerous area of his route. One edge of the colony’s territory fringed a local state park, and it was the one area where accidental contact with humans typically occurred. While contact with humans wasn’t forbidden (after all, the Weres led human lives as well outside of the warren), such contact generally led to dire consequences so close to home. As Alpha Buck of his colony, it was his responsibility to be both judge and jury when such infringements came to light.

Rhochlan froze. A strange scent floated across the breeze, and his entire body went perfectly still except for his whiskers. Suddenly thankful for the light cloud cover that kept the sun from gleaming off of his bright white-tipped fur, he crouched low to the ground as he tried to decipher what had alarmed him. He could hear the voices of a group of children in the far distance, but he knew that wasn’t what had triggered his fight or flight response. No, there was something disturbing his sense of natural balance…and that something was very close.

When a visual search didn’t alleviate his tension, he closed his eyes and concentrated on his other senses. The scent was familiar, yet not; almost as if it was similar to something he’d smelled before, but just different enough to make it unique. His long, tapered ears moved independently of each other as they twisted and turned, listening for the slightest nuance of sound. His sharp hearing picked up a muffled whimper off to his side, and he held his breath as he opened his eyes to trace the sound to its source.

After gathering as much information as he could without moving, he slowly eased his rigid posture and crept towards the sound. He paused after every step, his ears constantly swiveling to vector in on the sound’s location. After several such steps, a bright flash of color caught his eye, and he instinctively dropped back to the ground. Soft sounds of misery made his ears perk; as his eyes adjusted to the darkened area he’d crept into, he realized he was looking at the bowed head and hunched shoulders of a small child.

Quickly scanning the rest of the area, he was certain that they were alone. He crept closer, taking care to remain silent as he approached. He could sense the fear rolling off of the little one in waves, his small frame shaking with barely repressed sobs. One hand appeared to be clutching a plastic bag filled with plastic Easter eggs, while the other showed evidence of melted chocolate. Rhochlan paused to observe the child, taking in his disheveled appearance.

The boy was covered in mud, evidence of his tears visible in the small clean stripes cutting through the dirt on his face. The bottom of his red shirt was ripped, and there were scratches all over his tiny arms that were probably made from branches as he ran through the woods. His hair was longer than normal, brushing the collar of his shirt and feathered back from his face. Rhochlan’s eyes narrowed as he noticed that his hair was dark at the roots, graduating out to light blonde at the tips…very unusual coloring for a human.

He took one step further, his whiskers twitching as he tried to catch the child’s scent again. As fate would have it, his paw fell on a brittle twig and the resulting sharp crack caused the child to cry out in alarm as he darted a few steps away. As the child hesitated and looked back over his shoulder, his eyes fell on the large rabbit for the first time. He turned slowly, a tentative look of wonder creeping across his delicate features. Rhochlan was amazed at how quickly the boy moved, and as his scent washed over him, his amazement continued to grow.

The child—lost, alone, and staring down a “wild animal” that outweighed him by at least three hundred pounds—was a Were.

“Are you the Easter Bunny?” The child’s tremulous voice was so quiet, he had to strain to hear it. “I snuck some chocolate away from the party while Nyrra wasn’t looking…and I got lost. Can you help me find my way back? She’ll be so worried.” Light blue eyes watched him expectantly as the little one began to inch toward him. Rhochlan stared at him pensively for a moment, wondering at what twist of fate had crossed their paths. His thoughts were brought up short as he remembered the starving wolf he’d run across earlier; he shuddered at what may have happened had it been the canine, and not himself, who’d stumbled upon the youth.

He moved slowly, taking a few short hops toward the boy while watching his eyes carefully for indications he was about to bolt. He stared intently into the child’s eyes, and chuckled softly to himself. All of the fear scent was gone. Only a child, he mused, could be alone in the woods and feel safer with a five foot long rabbit. Only a child would see his appearance on Easter weekend as a natural occurrence, and trust him. He decided, in that instant, that he would return that trust and deliver the child safely back to his home.

“Riocha?”

He sent a mental message to his sister, the acting Alpha Doe of his colony. He would need to inform her of his plan to leave the surrounding territory, knowing she’d be tearing the countryside apart looking for him if he didn’t.

“Rhochlan! I was worried when you didn’t check in…everything alright?”

His sister’s instant reply had him rolling his eyes. It didn’t matter that he’d been Alpha for many years, he supposed, he would always be just her little brother as far as she was concerned. He loved his sister with all his heart, and couldn’t imagine her any differently.

“Everything is fine. I took care of the mess I contacted you about earlier; found an honorable wolf that needed a good meal. I’ve found another issue that needs my attention, and have to leave the territory for a couple of hours. Have the triplets come to the south border, near the park, and take over the border patrol while I’m away.”

He paused, wondering for a second if he should tell her about the boy. He could feel her curiosity through their bond, and decided to indulge her.

“I found a child while I was on my rounds; it looks like he ran away from an Easter party in the park. He thinks I’m the Easter Bunny, and asked me to take him home. I have a need to see that he makes it there safely. Rio…he’s a kitten, and I don’t think he has any idea of it. I need to know his story, and why a Were-rabbit child has been abandoned in the woods.”

He felt her sharply drawn breath, and her gentle acceptance of his refusal to leave a baby rabbit, a kit, in the woods unsupervised. He felt a shaft of love beaming down his Alpha bond, and was reassured when he felt his sister support his decision. Turning back to the expectant gaze boring into him, he finished closing the distance between himself and the child.

Extending his head, he brought his nose up and touched the boy’s nose in a customary rabbit greeting. The child giggled and ducked his head as Rhochlan’s whiskers tickled against his face and neck. The large Were snuffed at him, blowing air straight at his face and sending his feathered hair straight up to the sky. Satisfied that the little one was feeling safer, he stilled his movements and sent a thought into the kit’s mind.

“What is your name, little one?”

The boy started in surprise at hearing the voice in his head, before looking at the giant rabbit in wonder once more. He put a trembling hand on the side of Rhochlan’s neck, stroking the soft fur as it covered his fingertips. A shy smile spread across his lips as he mentally whispered a response for the very first time.

“My name is Rye.”

Rhochlan tilted his head to the side as he wracked his memory for any potential kidnappings in the surrounding colonies. He looked at the boy intently as he tried to match his coloring to any of the Weres he knew. His scent was familiar, so familiar in fact that it was making his protective instincts go haywire, but the reasoning for it eluded him for the moment. Pointing his ears straight ahead, he began to hop toward the park.

“Come along, child. Let’s see if we can find our way back to your party.”

As he hopped slowly in the direction of the voices he’d heard earlier, he found the child to be a very good travel companion. They lapsed into an easy camaraderie during which he gently questioned Rye on his upbringing. He was certain that the little one wouldn’t have been so forthcoming to a stranger if that stranger had been a human.

He learned that the boy was an orphan; though Rye said that he didn’t remember much about how his parents died, Rhochlan caught glimpses of images in his thoughts that belied the fact. The raw pain and misery he felt emanating from the small body beside him caused his own throat to constrict, and he worked to steer the conversation to happier thoughts. He asked him about the woman, Nyrra, that the child had mentioned earlier.

Rye’s face transformed with the radiant smile that crossed his small features. It was obvious that he cared for the woman a great deal, although she was just a social worker that had been assigned to him two years ago. Relieved to leave the other subject behind, he launched into describing the “angel” that he thought had been sent to protect him.

As Rhochlan listened, he was amazed at the love pouring from the child at his side. Obviously, this Nyrra person was very special; she’d taken a personal interest in the children that she worked with, trying to help ease them through a hard transition in their lives. It was unusual to find social workers that looked at children as anything other than numbers on a roster, and it appeared she was determined to help these children find some sort of normalcy in their lives. It took strength and resiliency to fight the degradation of the system, and he found himself respecting her without having met her.

Although the short legs of his companion made their trip a little time consuming, they only had to cover a short distance. Without realizing it, they’d made it to the edge of the park and could see Rye’s party group through the light brush at the forest’s edge. Rhochlan came to a stop, and looked pointedly at the child.

“Wait here, little one. I’ll send someone to take you the rest of the way; someone that will be able to explain your disappearance so you won’t get into too much trouble.”

Rye’s disappointment washed over him as he soothed the child’s objections. While he understood that seeing a huge rabbit would be a wonder for the other children, he had to ensure the safety of his colony first.

“You’ll know who I’ve sent when he appears. His eyes and his hair will remind you of me. Listen and do as he says, and he’ll get you delivered safely.” Seeking to erase the tears he saw forming in the child’s eyes, he butted his nose against the small chin and tickled the tiny face with his whiskers. Satisfied with the sheepish grin peeking from behind the sad gaze, he turned and began to hop away. “Don’t despair, Rye. We’ll meet each other again; we have more things to speak of, you and I.”

Rhochlan moved swiftly away from the boy, pausing only long enough to make sure he’d stay where he was told. He hurried through the underbrush around the edge of the park until he reached a secret stashing point known only to himself and the other members of the border patrol. He shifted to his human form, activating the hidden door to access the supplies hidden within. Grabbing a pair of khaki cargo pants, a tee-shirt, socks and boots, he dressed himself quickly.

Moving with much less noise in his human form, he returned to the spot where he’d left the child. Seeing Rye’s shoulders hunched in defeat almost made him regret his decision, but he was an Alpha first. He couldn’t chance exposure of the Were community until the kit was old enough to need the information he was willing to provide. Squaring his shoulders, he cleared his throat softly, trying not to scare the boy anymore than he had already been that afternoon.

Despite his effort to be less frightening, the boy cowered as he noticed the giant of a man that had entered the clearing behind him. Crouching down to make himself seem as small as possible, Rhochlan waited patiently as he gave the child time to inspect him. He knew that at 6’4” his height was intimidating to most adults, and doubtless more so for the small being located in front of him. Making sure to keep his voice low, he spoke to the lad in a soothing tone.

“Hey there, Rye. I believe you’re expecting me.”

The boy stood and inched toward him, his hesitation evident as he paused every few steps. He squinted his eyes, focusing hard as he tried to compare the man in front of him to the rabbit he’d followed through the woods. He stared deeply into the yellow eyes watching his progress, feeling a sense of relief wash over him as he reached up to touch the man’s unusual hair. Longer in the front as it swept over his shoulders, it was black at the roots, lightening to silver and then an astonishing white at the very tips. It was the exact same color as the rabbit’s fur.

“Did the Easter Bunny send you, sir?”

Rhochlan’s heart ached at the hope and trust in the small boy’s tremulous voice. He closed his eyes for a moment before opening them once more and smiling with reassurance down at Rye’s questioning face. He sent a silent prayer of thanks to whatever forces had decided to place him in the child’s path, instead of one of the thousands of monsters that would have preyed upon his innocence. Holding out his hand, he stood slowly as he continued smiling.

“I’m not sure whether or not he’s the bunny you have in mind, but a large fuzzy friend of mine said you needed some help. I was happy that I could lend a hand. What do you say? Let’s get you back to your party, I’m sure you have friends that are worried about you.”

Keeping his stride short so that he wouldn’t outpace the boy by his side, Rhochlan picked his way carefully through the light underbrush. Heading toward the other children, he cast his eyes around the playground looking for the closest adult. Finding a portly looking young woman he assumed was Nyrra, he called out to keep from startling her. The last thing he wanted was for someone to think he’d kidnapped the child and taken off into the woods with him.

“Excuse me, miss?”

Glancing up from the drinks she was pouring, the young intern’s eyes automatically fell first on the child standing near the table. Quickly setting the bottle of fruit juice on its surface, she exclaimed in joy as she recognized his face. Rushing around the table, she scooped him up with her arms in a gentle embrace as she set him on a nearby bench. As she carefully scanned him for injuries, she withdrew a hand-held radio from the big pocket on her scrub top.

“Nyrra, can you hear me?”

Rhochlan had been looking around, surveying the surroundings and watching the children play. He was surprised to realize that the woman before him wasn’t the one that Rye had been talking about. He supposed that could be responsible for the little boy’s rapidly increasing pulse and breathing. Was he upset that she wasn’t there waiting on him? When he heard the voice that came back over the radio, his attention focused on the sound.

“I’m here Isabelle, has anyone else checked in with news?”

The voice was so pure and distinct that he could hear it echoing in his mind. The melody of her voice sang along his nerves like the sweetest song of Spring, waking up his heart and causing it to beat a hard cadence in his chest. He shook his head as if to rid himself of the thoughts that suddenly sprang to life in his mind.

TO BE CONTINUED...You'll have to read the rest on Literotica when it posts! Can't submit it until I decide on a title though, so put those thinking caps on, my lovelies!

Easter Contest Entry # 1

"Easter with the Hawthornes" by Don Livingston

At just over six foot tall, Jack Robinson towered over the small mahogany desk where he looked over the latest numbers from the market.  For the past eight years, his talent at making predictions as to what stock would go up and down made Hawthorne and Hawthorne filthy rich.  When he glanced at his thick watch, he noticed it was past the time to put the week behind him and enjoy a quiet few days alone in his tiny apartment.

His two hundred and thirty pound frame moved with easy, as he stood and began shuffling reports into his briefcase for some light reading over the weekend.  The sudden opening of the door startled him as he flinched at the intrusion.  What made him even more stressed was that it was none other than Charles Hawthorne himself.

When it came to running a company, there was no one more demanding than Charles Hawthorne.  His medium build and aristocratic demeanor took a commanding presence whenever he stepped into a room.  As his deep brown eyes bore into Jack’s, he displayed a large smile as if trying to calm the employee that showed his startled reaction.

“Sorry for the sudden intrusion Jack, but I thought I’d just pop in for a look see at where you’re making us so much money,” Hawthorne said as he scanned the small room, adorned with various charts and graphs.

Jack shook his head clear as he watched his employer move towards one of the flow charts on Hawthorne and Hawthorne’s competition.  “I see you’re keeping tabs on the Drakes for us.  That’s a wise move Jack; always know what your enemy is doing so you can shove it down his throat later on down the road.”

“Um – yes Sir, I was thinking the same thing,” Jack lied.  His main purpose for the chart was to decide if he should stay in his present position or look for more benefits elsewhere.

Hawthorne turned and moved with confidence towards Jack’s desk, which made Jack even more nervous at the sudden movement.  “So Jack, there I was sitting in my office and it came to me that you have devoted a lot of hours making this company successful.”

“I’m just trying to be part of the team Sir.  I guess I get lucky…”

“Now that’s what I like from you Jack!  Teamwork is the greatest thing someone like me looks for from his employees’ and by God you have it!”  Hawthorne beamed as he slapped the desk hard.

“Yes Sir, I think teamwork plays a big part in…”

“I try to repay some of my more worthy employees’ with a small token of gratitude.  I think you’re one of them Jack, and I want to do something for you.”

Jack Robinson smiled as the wealthy executive reached inside his tailored coat pocket and produced an envelope.  He knew the wait was over and was at last getting the pay and promotion he worked so hard for these past years.  As he reached over and took the envelope, his hands quivered and his mind raced at the thoughts of more money, a bigger office, maybe even his own secretary.

When he had the small white packet open, he pulled out what looked like an invitation.  His thoughts of moving up in the company flew into a dark abyss, as he stared at the gold lettering on the thick cream-colored card.

“I hope you didn’t have plans for this Easter weekend Jack.  The party starts at eight sharp so I expect you to be on time.  Since this is your first time at the mansion, I had my secretary take the liberty of putting the rules on the back.”

Jack tried to remain calm and not throw the invitation back in his face.  “Um – wow, I don’t know what to say Sir.”

“You don’t have to thank me poor boy, just show up at eight, and enjoy your reward.  Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m running late for drinks at the country club,” Hawthorne said with a large smile and then left the office just as he entered it, with superiority.

Jack slumped back down into the old wooden chair and tossed the invitation on the desk.  His hands went to his face, trying to rub the tension from his body at just being snubbed for advancement.  His only reward being a guest at some high society party.

“I bet the Drakes pay their employees’ what their worth, and not just with dinner invitations either,” he thought as he sat up and continued shoving the paperwork into his briefcase with undo force.

He looked down at the fanciful card and shoved it in with even more force.  “I guess the least you can do old 

man is to feed me well, just before I tell you to shove this job up your ass.”

Jack wrenched the leather case up and strode out the door, his glaring expression showed his true feelings as he moved towards the elevator.  His mind wondered towards the various comments from his coworkers.  

They all had a vision on what went on at some of Charles Hawthorne’s parties.  They ranged from the boring high society snobs looking down on the little people, to sadistic human sacrifices of the hired help at the mansion, although none of the people that commented about the party ever attended.

He was about to push the button for the lobby, when a small hand grabbed the door stopped it from closing.  Jack reached out his more muscular hand and held the steel door back, as Cheryl Newsom moved inside.  When her hazel eyes locked with his, she slid to the corner of the small box and lowered her face in a submissive gesture.  She always had a quiet demeanor and very seldom ever spoke to anyone around her.

Jack noticed the large flower print bag she held in front of her waiflike body in a guarded grasp.  To imply she was shy would be an underestimation of the truth; she was more a recluse than anything else.  Very few, if any, knew anything about her except she performed her job without question or complaint, although legal assistants’ had very little to time to complain about anything.

“Calling it a week are you Cheryl?” Jack asked as the doors met and the elevator began its slow decent.

She clutched the bag tighter as her eyes remained looking at the plain black flats she wore.  “Yes,” she muttered.

“Jesus Lady, it’s not like I’m going to rape you here in the elevator,” he thought.  “Any big plans for Easter, or are you just going to rip open the colorful basket Peter Cottontail brings you?”  Cheryl muttered something under her breath, as Jack leaned closer towards her.  This small move caused her to glance up for a fleeting moment before moving farther back into the corner.

“Sorry, I didn’t catch that last part Cheryl.”

“I said no,” she replied in a tone just above a whisper.

The way she quivered made Jack think she was praying, if not begging, for the doors to open so she could escape the confines of the make shift trap she found herself in at the moment.  The jolt of the elevator and the chiming of the bell indicated the uncomfortable journey was at an end.  As the doors began to slide open, Cheryl bolted through them before they were fully open.

Jack shook his head in amazement, as he watched they small woman hurry through the other fleeing employees’ in an attempt to leave without further confrontation.  As the beefy man stepped out, someone wrapped their arm around his and pulled him close.  Jack looked over and saw Samantha Fitzgerald smiling back him with a hungered look in her green eyes.

“Hey stud muffin, such great timing on the escape coffins.  I’m headed to the bar just around the corner and I could use an escort.  I wouldn’t want to get molested on my way there; on second thought, maybe I would,” she said as she gazed at him like a starving predator.

Samantha Fitzgerald was well known in the company.  Her sexual exploits were something of company lore as she tried, and succeeded in most cases, to bed anything with a cock, although that wasn’t always the case.  Once she found someone she wanted, he or she seldom lasted long without giving into her demands for unconstrained sex.

He remembered one of his friends telling him about the night he spent with her.  He said in no uncertain terms, that her small waist and palm sized breasts were an added attraction to the tightness of her sex starved openings.  To bed her was like bedding a porn star on speed; she couldn’t get enough.

“As tempting as that sounds Sam, my parents are due at the airport in an hour and I told them I’d pick them up,” he lied as he tried to pull his arm free.

“Then I’ll go with you and keep you company.  I can make it an hour you’ll never forget,” she replied as she ran her wet tongue across her ruby red lips.

“I bet you could Sam, but Mom and Dad have a lot of bags and I wouldn’t to meet them while having a heart attack.”

Sam pulled his arm hard and turned him towards her.  She pulled his crotch against her body and gazed up at him.  “Fine, but just so you understand something.  One of these nights, I AM going to fuck you senseless, in every way possible, and then leave you drained until you can’t shoot any more hot cum into my body.”

Jack smiled back and pushed her away.  “Now that is something I can think about all weekend.  I’ll see you on Monday and we can discuss it further after my mom and dad leave.”

With great effort, Jack made it out of the building without any more trouble from the company slut.  After hailing a cab, he climbed in and tossed his briefcase down on the floor.  It turned out to be a long week, and the stress became extended, as he pictured a group of violinists’ playing boring music while every snob in the city sipped tea with their pinky extended.

**********

There was a light sprinkling of snow coming down, as Jack maneuvered his white intrepid up the long drive.  Noticing the types of cars and limousines’ lining the drive, he began to wonder if he even had to tell Hawthorne his was quitting; the party might save him the trouble and bore him to death.

As he reached the end of the drive, he saw a young man step out into the middle and hold his hand up.  Jack put the car in park and rolled down his window, as the man approached the driver’s door.

“Good evening Sir.  May I please see your invitation?” the young man asked.

Jack reached over and retrieved the elegant card and handed it to the valet, then turned his head and studied the front of the massive building.  You couldn’t call it a house due to its sheer size, but yet a five star hotel was only slightly bigger.  Jack laughed to himself at the possibility of getting lost in the Hawthorne mansion.

His thoughts faded away as the voice of the valet snapped him back to reality.  “Thank you very much Mr. Robinson.  I see from your invitation that this is your first time at the mansion.”

“Um – yes it is.  I’m sorry I seem a bit confused at what to do,” Jack replied with a quick look around.  

“Where do you want me to park?”

“Leave it to me Sir; I’ll take good care of it for you.  When you’re ready to leave, just let the valet inside know and I’ll have it waiting for you.  Enjoy your evening and please show your invitation to the door man.”

Jack stepped out into the cold air, as the small flakes drifted down on his black overcoat.  As his car pulled away, he made his way toward the massive front door.  He looked up and judged it was at least twelve feet high and each door had to be seven feet wide.

Then he spotted a husky middle-aged man step out from behind a small wall.  Even though Jack was a well sized man, the guard made him look trivial in comparison.  When the guard smiled, it seemed as if it was strained, like it was difficult to accomplish the small task.

“Good evening Sir.  May I help you?”

“Um – sure, I was told to give you this.  I’m not sure what to do next, so if you could…”

“This is your first time Mr. Robinson; do you remember reading the rules Sir?” he said a little too gruff.

Jack’s mind flashed to the back of the invitation.  The rules were simple enough to understand.  An Easter mask of any size and shape, casual attire, and an open mind, then he remembered the last rule in rather bolder writing.  Under no circumstances will any information be made public outside of the mansion.  Failure to abide by the last rule after the evening will be met with swift recourse.

“Yeah, I got it.  Sort of a, what goes on inside, stays inside kind of party.  You wouldn’t mind giving a guy a preview of what I can expect tonight would you?”

“I’m sorry Mr. Robinson; I have no idea what you’re talking about.  Please enjoy your evening, and I would advise you to put on your mask before entering,” the burly guard said as he approached the large door.

Jack slipped the white fuzzy rabbit mask on, and he laughed a bit on how ridiculous he must look.  As the door opened, Jack thanked the guard and entered a large foyer.  The door shut behind him with boom that seemed to echo throughout the well decorated room.  He looked up at the huge chandelier that hung from the cathedral ceiling.  “Must be nice to have money,” he whispered.

The sound of a string guitar snapped him out of his daze and he thought it was impossible for Charles Hawthorne to be playing ZZ Top at Easter party, or any party for that matter.  Jack went left towards the music, and almost crashed into an attractive young woman carrying a try of champagne flutes.  With practiced ease, she controlled the sterling silver tray, and held it out towards him.

“My apologies Sir, would you care for something to drink?”  Her young voice seemed to dance through his ears, as her bright blue eyes sparkled in the light.

“Yes, thank you,” he replied as he picked up one of the flutes.  “I’m Jack Robinson.  This is my first time here, so if you could direct me to Mr. Hawthorne I’d appreciate it.”

“Yes Sir, he’s in the other room just behind you.  I’m Mindy and if there’s anything you require, just look for me.”  The smile and the tone of her voice told him all he wanted to know about young Mindy.

Jack walked into what looked like a living room, but was the size of a convention hall.  With everyone wearing masks, it was hard to make out who was who among the guests.  He wondered through the mix of men and women, his eyes searching the room for a man the fit the build of Charles Hawthorne.

As he spotted a man he thought was his boss, he felt a delicate touch of a female hand on his groin.  Jack’s head snapped to the side and noticed a mature woman in her fifties smiling back at him.  Her silver hair accented parts of her tan face that wasn’t covered with the small bunny mask.

“By the way you keep searching the room you handsome man, you must be Jack Robinson; I’m Charlotte Hawthorne.  I’ve heard so much about you from Charles, and the fact that you’re attending one of our parties, means that you’re very capable.”  The last statement made him nervous as she gazed down at her hand still on his filling member.

“Um – I mean no disrespect Mrs. Hawthorne, but do you think it’s wise to fondle me while your husband is in the room?” Jack replied as he moved her hand.

“Oh you’re in for a wonderful evening Jack.  I think you and Charles should talk before the party really gets going.”  Charlotte waved her hand and got her husband’s attention.  He excused himself away from a petite blond with waist length hair, and made his way over.

“Jack, Jack, Jack, welcome to the house dear boy.  I take it you’ve met my adorable wife?”

“Yes Sir, we were just talking about…” Jack started to say but Charlotte cut him off.

“He thinks you’ll get mad if I grab his cock here in front of everyone.  You should show him around and inform him of the parties,” she said, then kissed his cheek and wondered off into the small crowd.

Charles Hawthorne grabbed Jack’s arm with a light touch and led him out of the room and down a hall.  He pointed out the various rooms and one of the libraries that made up the down stairs of the mansion.  When they reached the kitchen, Jack looked on in awe.  Not because of its sheer size that looked more than capable of feeding a small army, but the man dressed up as a yellow marshmallow peep.

The strange costume seemed appropriate for an Easter party.  The fact he was seated on top of a long wooden counter top with the front of his costume open as the young server Mindy went down on him was startling.

Charles’s happy voice broke his trance, as he watched Mindy speed up her erotic actions.  “Bart, how’s it going?  Enjoying the party so far?” Charles asked as he stepped forward and picked up a full champagne flute.

“Hell yes Chuck, I wouldn’t miss a party for all the money on Wall Street,” he replied as he placed his hand on the back of Mindy’s head and held her down.

Hawthorne turned to look at Jack’s reaction.  He released a short laugh and grabbed the new comer’s arm again, leading him out and towards another room.  When Jack followed his boss into the den, Hawthorne pointed to a large leather chair and then sat behind his desk.

Jack sipped at the champagne as he tried to wrap his mind around what he just witnessed in the kitchen.  He was unsure of what to say as he thought about putting his drink down and running out of the strange home of his employer.

“I could have told you about the parties Jack, but through the years I’ve found it saves time by just showing the new comers.  When I first gave you the invitation, you thought it was a pay increase didn’t you?” Hawthorne asked.

“Um – well to be upfront with you – yes.  I believe my work speaks for itself and I thought I was being compensated for that.”

“Is that what you wanted, more money?  Hell Jack, I could double your salary and it still wouldn’t be fair to you.  What I can do is give you nights you will never forget.  Young Mindy in the kitchen is just a small sample at what goes on at my parties.  If you decide to stay, the women in this house will pretty much do anything you might be into, and then some.”

“So all this time you’ve just been having sex parties?” Jack asked, still confused.

“Ah yes, the rumors of what goes on here.  Is the most popular one still the human sacrifice of the staff?”

“Um – I guess so Sir.”

“When we’re out of the office it’s either Charles, Chuck or Charlie.”

“Okay, Chuck, mind if I ask what all the secrecy is for?” Jack asked as he downed his drink.

“Most of the people here are from one of the offices, others are dear friends of ours.  They all have some sort of fetish when it comes to sex and if that ever got out, it could jeopardize what they’ve worked for.”

“So if I said thanks but no thanks, you wouldn’t be offended?”

“Hell no Jack, but give it an hour before you run away.  If you do leave, I would hate to see what would happen if any information found its way out of the mansion.  You’re a very bright individual, so I think you understand what I’m saying.”

“I get your point.  I’ll stick around for an hour, but if I decide to leave I’ll let you know first.  Fair enough?” Jack said as he stood up.

Charles stood up and went over to the man who helped make his company successful.  “Deal, but my wife may rape you before that hour’s up,” he said with a laugh and shook his hand.

**********

The party was going strong and Jack just finished his fifth glass of champagne.  He had now been there for over an hour and he lost count of how many times a female with a bunny mask groped him.  They ranged for their early twenties to much older women.  One in particular, wore a playboy bunny costume who appeared to be someone’s grandmother looking for a much younger boy toy for the evening.

He was starting to feel the effects of the expensive champagne, so he went in search of some food.  As he entered a smaller room, he saw a long buffet table packed with every conceivable type of food.  Salad, fish, steak, bread, all spread out in a type of fend for yourself layout.  Mixed in between the large dishes; jellybeans, eggs of all colors, all topped off with a four foot chocolate Easter Bunny in the center.

He walked up and stood beside the longhaired blond he’d seen early with Hawthorne.  As she placed some oysters and shrimp on her plate, she turned her head and locked eyes with Jack.  She wore a black felt mask that wrapped around her cheeks, the long floppy ears dangled along the sides of what appeared to be a beautiful face.  The thing that took him by surprise was the bright emerald green eyes that seemed to bore into his soul.

He lowered his stare and took in the black skintight jumpsuit she wore, which left little to the imagination on what lay underneath.  Her large nipples seemed to be straining the fabric in an attempt to break free.  Then it dawned on him; green eyes, killer body, slutty demeanor; it could only be one person, Samantha Fitzgerald with a wig.  After all the drinks and groping, his hard member was now doing the thinking.

“Enjoying the party so far?” she asked in a sultry voice.

“Seems fun enough I guess, I mean who doesn’t like a party where sex is used as a condiment,” Jack replied as he put some cut vegetables on his plate.

“Nice to see you finally got invited Jack?”

The fact that she knew who he was solidified the hunch that it was the company slut, Sam.  Even though he rebuked her advances before, Jack realized that no mention of tapping into her charms would ever leave the mansion.

“Um – yeah, I guess you could say I’m the virgin in the room.”

She moved a step closer as her eyes moved over his body.  “Hmmmm.  I like the way you say virgin; it makes me want to drag you into a room and pop that cherry for you.”

Knowing she was always this forward, made the remark seem pointless in an attempt to sound seductive.  

“I’ve been drinking champagne all night, and I should get something to eat first before I start…”

Sam grabbed his arm hard, as she tossed her plate back down on the table.  “Screw the fucking food Jack, eat me instead,” she said in a forceful tone.

She threw open a nearby door and slung him inside as the vegetables went flying to the side.  When she turned the lights on, Jack saw he was in a small office.  There were some aprons and work schedules hanging on the paneled walls and he knew this must be the staff office.

The temptress walked towards him while peeling the zipper down.  “You have no idea how long I’ve waited to fuck your brains out.”

“Yeah well, I’m getting tired of turning you down,” he replied as he began pulling his pants down.

Jack leaned against the desk as she knelt down and took him deep into her mouth.  He tossed his head back as the warmth engulfed him.  His friend Bill told him how talented she was, and he wasn’t exaggerating on her ability.  She bobbed up and down while making small choking noises, which sent minor vibrations through the sensitive tip of his pulsing manhood.

“Jesus, you sure know how to give head you little…”  Jack stopped himself as his body fought for control.

The young woman stood up and stroked the now slick member.  “Go ahead, say it, tell me what kind of woman I am.  You sure appear man enough,” she said as pulled on the eight inches on hard muscle.

Jack grabbed her shoulders hard and glared at her.  “I know what kind of woman you are.  You’re a fucking slut that will screw anything with two legs.  I’ll even bet you don’t care if it’s male or female.”

Her face took on an evil glare as she grabbed his arm and shoved him towards a small couch.  Due to his pants being around his ankles, he tripped and fell down heavy on the leather cushion.

Jack could only look on as he watched her sway back and forth like the possessed woman was stalking her prey.  “I see you have a very hard cock there Jack.  I guess the champagne is working.”

“Yeah, the problem is after you’re done no one else will get any use out of it; consider yourself lucky.”

She waived a finger at him as she straddled his waist.  “I wouldn’t let that worry you stud, the old man spikes the drinks with Viagra.  Now about that cherry of yours.”

With one hand holding his stiff member and the other on his muscular shoulder, the devil incarnate slammed herself down and took him deep within her body.  They tossed their heads back as the heat from the mating overtook them.  She allowed herself just a brief moment to get accustomed to the girth, then rocked her hips as she lowered her blazing green eyes to his.

“I knew it feel this good; I just didn’t think it was that fucking big.”

“God, you’re so damn…”

She thrust her lips forward and silenced Jack, as her snake like tongue commanded battle from his.  The woman was demanding as she grabbed his hair, trying to force his mouth closer as her hips pumped back faster.  When she felt his pulsing cock grow bigger, she knew her prize was near.  She moved her free hand down to his nipple.  When she felt the hard bud, she flicked it for a moment, then rolled it painfully between her slender fingers.  Jack couldn’t take the splendid torture anymore, and exploded rope after rope of hot scalding cream deep into her tightness.  The falling liquid from her shaven womanhood soon joined the vibrations against his lips from her scream.

Monday morning, a little after 8:00 am.

Jack Robinson entered the lobby at Hawthorne and Hawthorne.  His body still sore and abused from the all-night party at the mansion.  Most of the evening after the episode with Sam in the office was a blur.  He groaned aloud as the image of the older woman in the playboy costume kneeling between his legs at the end of the night entered his mind.

As he stepped into the elevator, a few other people that had the same tired expression on their faces joined him, although he knew it wasn’t from the same type of weekend as his.  One of them reached out and held the door as Cheryl Newsom scurried inside.  With it being full, she seemed to squeeze her large bag tighter against her as she dreaded being inside the small box with others.

Jack leaned over, attempting to calm her down before she fainted.  “How was your weekend Cheryl?  Did the Easter Bunny bring you anything good?”

She mumbled something he couldn’t make out and Jack just leaned back, leaving her to fret in piece.  The small ding announced their arrival on the eighth floor and the doors began to slide open.  When there was just enough room to exit, Cheryl bolted for the hallway.  What she wasn’t planning on doing was smashing into an intern carrying a large stack of papers.

The others walked around the mess, as Jack knelt down to take pity on the panic ridden girl.  As he picked up some of the papers for the intern, he gasped in shock.  There on the floor next to a small clear case with green contact lenses, lay a black felt bunny mask.  The long floppy ears were unmistakable as he picked it up and stared with amazement at the blushing Cheryl Newsom.

She smiled at him, and then placed her delicate finger against her lips.  “Remember the rules, Mr. Robinson.  I also wouldn’t make any plans for Memorial Day weekend,” she said with a wink and then placed the mask inside her bag.