To Protect and Serve Ch. 01

"Camping with my folks when I was eight," Shamira said, finally dropping the napkin and facing her gleeful dinner companions. I stumbled into a set of webs the size of Montana, and I wound up with a dozen of those evil little buggers all over me. I couldn't think of a way to get rid of them, so I went charging into the creek, which was fuh-REE-zing."

Clara started laughing so hard that she fell out of her chair.

"Some decorum, young woman," Shane said, staring at the ground where his shaman was rolling around, thinking of a soaked, shivering, and arachnid-addled little version of Shamira.

"I'm scared to death of heights," Raul admitted, that sexy Latin accent making even the admission of fear sound intriguing.

"Water," Henry said. "Or at least any body of water big enough to contain a shark."

"I love the water!" Renata said. "You know you're more likely to be struck by lightning than attacked by a shark."

Lillian seemed to be listening to nothing, which probably meant that the resident poltergeist Jeremiah was talking to her. "Jeremiah says he was afraid of closed spaces." She looked perplexed. "I'm not even going to try and explain that to them."

"Heights --"

"Not a damn thing --"

The midnight dinner was one thing that Shamira looked forward to everyday. Everyone was just who they were. No roles, no jobs, no hierarchy, and no rules. But towards the end of dinner, she saw people start to make eye contact. Lillian was probably going to go domme for the night and claim her longtime lover and girlfriend. Shamira had wondered how you "shared" your significant other, but they seemed to think it was perfectly natural. They took the top spot in each other's personal hierarchy, but there were many branches in those hierarchies. Clara and Henry were going into town to hook up with regular donors.

Apparently everyone, including the subs, were not only allowed but encouraged to find willing blood donors and sexual partners outside of the house, seeing as vampires could only feed off each other for so long before their blood went stale. They could do blood pouches, but the thrill of a living donor was apparently too much to pass up. Shamira had yet to consume blood except via IV when she was injured.

Renata was going hunting up in the North Georgia woods for a few hours and Reaper was going with her. Banshee was going to "entertain" Bjorne for the evening. Being the last member of the in-house security staff, Raul was going to be on the job, meaning he wasn't allowed to participate in the games.

People began to scatter, leaving Shamira to wander aimlessly through the house. She went to the lounge and tried to play some video games, but it failed to catch her attention. Work out? Why bother! She could turn on the lights and play another nine holes of golf. She decided against it. After playing with Banshee and Shane, she didn't want to play by herself anymore. She didn't want to do anything else alone anymore. That was when it hit her. She wasn't alone.

She'd saved these guys, and they'd saved her. She ate with them, shopped with them, laughed with them, and shared stories with them. She'd been there for less than two weeks, and this place was more comfortable to her than anywhere else she'd ever lived. She wanted to be Shane's enforcer and . . . and she wanted to tell him that. Yeah, that's why she decided to go looking for him.

She found him in his office, staring blankly at a computer screen.

"Evening, Miss Carswell," he said, looking up. "Or morning rather."

"Hey boss," she said, emotion caught in her throat. Not fear . . . not this time. Anticipation. Hope even.

He raised an eyebrow. "Boss?"

She nodded. "I'm sorry I've been so freaked out recently. I promise, I'll get better. No more running off. I may not like or even understand why you do things the way you do, but how much right do I have to bitch if I just walk away and do nothing? You keep the peace. And these guys don't follow you out of fear. They respect you and they like you. I've had worse bosses in my life."

The research that he'd been working on now seemed like the most trivial stuff in the world. He'd been hoping she'd come around, and so she had. She was standing in his office, on her own two feet and without any coercion on his part. He got out of his chair and offered her his hand, which she shook. "You'll stay on then?"

"Yes Sir. Just point me to the books on all this magical hoo-hah that you guys get mixed up with and I'll study it."

He grinned. "I hope you're a fast learner."

She glanced downward, forcing the next words out. "I learn quickly, given the right teacher." She met his eyes again. "I'm your girl, Sir."

His smile warmed, but his eyes twinkled diabolically. "Are you now?"

"I don't do things half way. If I'm in," she said, very aware of what she was saying, "then I'm in all the way. If you'll have me." She lowered her face again. She could handle just about anything except rejection at that point. She'd prefer being shot again to that.

He placed his hand under her chin and lifted that proud face and raised it. "I would be honored to have you," he told her, "and I mean that in every sense of the phrase. You do know that if you do this, it begins now. I'll expect you to obey all my rules."

"Yes Sir."

"And I promise you as I've told you before," he said softly, "that you will not regret it. I and those who dwell within this house will meet those needs so long neglected by a world that never understood you." He grabbed the back of her head and kissed her.

'OhsweetMaryMotherofJesusthismanishot!' she thought, her mind a jumbled mess of heat and longing. He picked her up and pushed her against the wall of his office, keeping her arms pinned to her sides while his tongue danced a luscious tango in her mouth. No one had ever kissed her like they actually meant it. She hoped that this would be just one of many firsts she experienced before sunrise.

Finally he released her, though with a certain degree of regret. "Stay here," he ordered. He noted with pride that she didn't move. She was disciplined, and that would make his job easier and her night so much more pleasant. He went over to an armoire and opened the top drawer. From it he drew an iron collar, which he quickly put around Shamira's neck.

"By accepting this, you are now the property of myself and this house," he said, standing behind her and kissing her on the neck. He felt her skin shudder. The poor woman was so starved for the touch of someone who actually appreciated her that it wasn't going to take much. "You will do as I command. If I am not commanding you, then any other dom or domme may use you as they see fit. If none of them is using you, then the switches can. You belong to us and no one else."

"No one outside of this house may take your reins without our permission, though you may still find donors as per the rules of the house. If you ever feel true fear or don't feel that you can go on, say 'Desist.' This word will work with anyone here. You will be released and no one may touch you again until you have spoken to me. We take care of our belongings here," he promised her.

He sat behind his desk, keeping an eye on her face. She was nervous, obviously, but not afraid. There was a difference. She probably just wasn't sure she'd do this right. 'Silly girl,' he thought. 'You couldn't possibly do this wrong.' "Sundays will be your days of reflection. You cannot act as a submissive on that day. You can choose an additional night each week if you choose."

With a less domineering voice, he explained, "It is a mentally as well as physically taxing life sometimes, and you will need the rest. Any other days 'off' need to be arrange with me in advance, or with whoever is in charge should I be absent. You will dress according to your station. Tonight, Monique will fit you and provide you with uniforms. You will wear these uniforms at all times that you are on the property." He smiled. "Even if we're out golfing. However, you also have a job to do as my enforcer. If you are on a job, then the job is your primary focus. You will refrain from your submissive role until such time as the job is over or if you are in a lull and I say so." He looked at her from head to toe. Reaching out with his hands, he ripped the clothing from her body.

"No more of these garments, even when you are off the property. You have the body of a goddess, and I want you to show it off. You belong to me, and this --" he started, running his fingers over her breasts and down her tight stomach, "will bring this house great accolades." It seemed that everywhere his fingers went, goosebumps shot up.

He went over to his desk and hit a button. "Raul, I'm going to be in my personal work room. Hold all my calls unless it's urgent." He looked at the amazon standing nude and anxious in his desk. He hit the button again. "Damn urgent. You," he said, pointing at Shamira, "follow me."

She did as she was told, and her hands were shaking a bit. 'Ican'tbelieveI'mgoingtodothis Ican'tbelievethatI'mgoingtodothis!' she thought frantically. She followed him through a door hidden behind his bookshelf. She thought that was supercool, but didn't think that this would be a good time to point it out. She wondered how many other little secrets this not-so-little house.

He took her into a room that was more than a little intimidating. There was a set of metal shelves against one wall, and there were lamps in each corner providing gentle illumination. That was where the gentleness ended. The floor and walls were covered in tiles that were about one-foot by one-foot. In the center of each was a hinged ring, which were all currently folded down into circular recesses in the tiles. Hanging from the rings in the ceiling were pulleys, chains, and what looked like a power winch. She gulped. Shane grabbed her by the braid of her hair and yanked her head back.

"Lie down on the floor," he said, his breath washing against her ear and down her neck. "And close your eyes. Do not open them until I tell you." As she started to lay down, he grabbed her by the hair again. "Do it properly. Back up. Now, lower yourself slowly to both knees at an even speed. Next, shift over to your hip while bracing yourself with your arm. Now, stick your legs directly out in front of you. With those abs, you should be able to curl down to the floor in a slow and controlled movement."

This was the most complicated "lying down" that Shamira could imagine. He was right though. Curling down to the ground was easy. Years of pilates finally paying off. Then she closed her eyes. It wasn't long until she felt her feet being pushed apart, and each ankle was secured with some kind of leather cuff or strap. All she knew for sure was that they had to be attached to something, because she couldn't move either of her legs more than an inch, leaving her trapped with her lower body in a v-shape. Then her wrists were cuffed, but they were linked close together.

The sound of chains being drawn echoed through the small room, and then the hum of a motor took over. She felt her legs being lifted up, and was now convinced that there was some kind of bar between them that the cuffs were attached to. The bar kept being lifted up and up to the air, with the rest of her body following suit. Finally she was completely off the ground and she felt her arms being pulled towards the ground. They were anchored somehow to the floor. She was hanging naked upside down with her legs spread, and all she wanted was to be able to --

"Open your eyes," he told her. Sure enough, her view was inverted, but not bad. Shane had taken off his shirt, and his smooth and toned chest made her mouth water just a little bit. In his left hand was a long paddled made of some very dark wood and lined with rubber. He leaned in and showed it to her.

"I will teach you things here today," he whispered, sliding the tip of his toy along her chin. "I will show you how proper discipline is meted out. A true master will break no skin and no bones. The only thing that will break is your sweat." He stood up, pulled the paddle back as if her were back-handing a tennis racket, then lay a solid *smack* against her exposed backside.

Shamira gasped. The paddle was heavier than she'd imagined, and it had lit a fire under her skin that tingled uncontrollably. It was pain, but . . . but it was a sweet pain. It was like déjà vu; she recognized that slight burning thought she had never experienced it before except possibly in her dreams.

Shane was more pleased than he could say. Her compliance, her magnificent body so eager for his touch, but mostly for her eyes. Her eyes had lit up like fireworks when he had laid wood to that perfect ass. "Here," he told her, "words like 'whore' and 'deviant' and 'submissive' have no negative connotations." He slapped her hard again on the ass, then rested his hand between her spread legs and dipped a single finger into her already moist sex. Oh, she was excited all right.

"Every sensation you tried to forget due to the fools you knew before, every dark desire you abandoned because you were afraid to embrace it, all of these will be revisited. By me, by the other doms," he continued, swatting her again. He heard her whimper, but not complain. "We will remind you," he almost crooned, squeezing her clit gently and plunging a finger into her depth while wiggling it, "one stroke at a time." *Smack* She had a large clit, so he flicked it again. "You will ask for permission before orgasm. Nay, you will beg for permission." He thrust two finger into her pussy, stroking her insides gently. He pulled those fingers out and shoved them into her mouth. "Taste yourself," her ordered.

Shamira's head was spinning, but she did as she was asked. Vampires didn't have a problem hanging upside down; she was just really aroused. She sucked on his fingers, trying to be seductive but mostly just thirsty. He removed his finger and flicked her clit again, racking her with a brief sharp pain and a deep seated ecstasy.

*Smack* went the paddle again. The taut skin of her ass was alight with sensation. Again, he fingered her ravenous sex, and she could feel her body trying to grip at him. He withdrew again, this time grabbing her inner labia and pulling on them one at a time until she gasped. Then he held them at that point for just a moment or two before letting them snap back.

"Your body truly is a wonder," he said. "Almost as if you were waiting for this moment." He slapped the side of one breast, rubber causing her tit to sting wildly. He heard her gasp louder this time. "What was that?" he asked properly, giving the other breast a matching stripe. He used his free hand to grip her nipple, eliciting more pleasurable moaning sounds. "So ripe," he said, slapping both breasts several times in succession. He could see her pussy lips swollen and so very, very ready, but he had much to do before he satisfied that particular craving.

He walked around her, slapping her flesh with hand and board. He was so incredibly hard in his trousers that he felt he was almost ready to achieve some personal release, but he had things to show her first.

Shamira's entire skin, that magnificent sensory organ, was tingling in a searing, confusing, and incredibly arousing pain. She couldn't see him for the time being, as he was standing behind her. She felt his fingers exploring her pussy again, then she felt one creep into her asshole. She had never had anything up there before, and it scared her a little.

"Relax," he ordered, bringing the paddle down sharply on the meat of her upper thigh. "What? I didn't hear you."

"Yes --" She paused. Was the right word "master"?

She felt a sting on her other thigh. "Yes 'Sir'," he corrected her. She definitely heard the capital "S" on that one. "Yes Sir." The proving of her asshole began again, and she tried to relax. It took several more harsh slaps before he was satisfied. He put the paddle down on the ground where she could see it, then vanished again.

"I think I'd like some mood lighting," he said off-handedly.

Suddenly, she felt something being inserted into her pussy. It was slim and felt . . . odd. Her vagina wasn't exactly meant for find discrimination. Neither was her asshole, which also found itself violated by one of the strange object. She heard a *flick* *flick* and then --

'Oh my God,' she thought. 'Candles. I've got candles in my . . . oh God!' Her whole body twitched when, after several moments, the first bit of hot wax dripped down onto her already tortured skin. It burned and it stung and it was incredible! She was distracted by the feeling by the reappearance of Shane in front of her. He slowly unzipped his fly and worked his rigid seven inches out the opening. It was then when she realized that her face was just below his hip level.

"Now, you need to learn the difference between having your face fucked and performing fellatio. First face-fucking, if you'll pardon the alliteration. You do nothing except open your mouth, and I will take care of the rest." He slapped her lightly on the cheek. He never hit hard in the face. Even he drew the line somewhere. "Open."

She did as commanded, and he promptly thrust his cock into her mouth. He had to bend at the knees just a bit to do it, but soon her tonsils were getting pummeled by that gorgeous piece of manhood. She hadn't ever been able to deep throat, and honestly had little experience with oral sex in general. But not being able to breathe had its advantages. Shane forced his way past her gag reflex and pleasured himself with her mouth and throat. He was being none too gentle, and she was swaying as much as her chains allowed while he had his way with her.

"Now," he said, pulling out, you will practice your standard blow-job. "Use your lips and your tongue to help achieve release."

It was hard as hell for her to concentrate, considering she was upside down with hot wax dripping on some very sensitive areas while trying to do something well that shed never been good at. But she wanted to learn so badly. He pushed his cock into her mouth more slowly, and she closed her lips and let her tongue drag along his length as he slid in and out of her mouth. He grabbed her by the back of the head and upped his tempo, making her work harder. She gagged, but she didn't give up, taking as much of him as she could every time. Several times, she felt his neatly trimmed pubes brushing up against her nose.

Shane pulled out, stroked his dick a couple of times, and shot an enormous load onto Shamira's face and mouth. Without even thinking about it, she licked some of his seed from her lips while the rest dripped down over her eyes and forehead. It didn't taste like much, but it was warm and slightly . . . salty? Whatever it tasted like, she wanted more.

"Little whore," he said approvingly. "I saw that. You liked that, didn't you? As well you should. Normally I hate to see sperm go to waste, so get used to the idea of swallowing." He knew he could recuperate soon, but he wanted to find some things out first. He pulled up a chair. "Let's talk about those nasty fantasies I know you have. I got a sense of them when I brought you over, but I want to hear you say them out loud. I want it so that you hear your own depravity in your own words."

"Sir --"

He smacked her on the breast, making her gasp in (pleasure)pain. "You will do as I tell you. Wait just a moment." He got up, went to the wall, and hit a button that slowly lowered her down until she was able to rest with her back on the ground. She thought maybe she was getting a timeout or something. She thought wrong. He unhooked her wrists from the floor and attached them to the same bar that her ankles were secured to, effectively bending her in half. Then he hit the up-button until she was hanging about three feet off the ground.