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A Pup Among Wolves

For Dreixes

By Draconicon

"...Thought it'd have more neon," Tobias muttered as he looked at the gentleman's club that stood just outside the university grounds. "Or...something."

Admittedly, the maned wolf didn't know if he was overestimating what a place should have in the first place. The whole idea of going to a sex club - which was what the other students had made Hawthwaites sound like - was still foreign to him. The closest that he had ever gotten to going to one was the time that one of his buddies had gotten him a fake ID and snuck him into a strip club further off, well before he came here. Not the most engaging time, he had to admit; the thudding music and the constant strobing lights and the screaming on the dance floor had made it hard to focus on the hot women.

Since then? Well, he'd expected university to be better than his life back home, but so far, it followed a simple routine: wake up, leave the dorms, attend 1-3 lectures depending on the day, go back to the dorms, study, sleep. Meals and the occasional social interactions with other students popped up from time to time, but it was nothing like how his father had described life after secondary school, that was for sure.

He shuffled from foot to foot as he stared at the line leading into the club. Mostly older men, really, and he hesitated to call it a 'line,' particularly when it was only three people at most at a given moment, and even then only when they all arrived together. It was almost entirely a shifting emptiness that occasionally was filled with people before they went inside, a far cry from what it was like before the holidays.

Tobias pulled his ID from his pocket, looking down at the picture of himself. A little out of date, but still looked like him; not quite as broad on the shoulders or as fluffy in the neck-ruff as he was these days, but then again, he was pretty sure that the bouncer would understand that he was still filling out. Twenty years old and all that.

He hesitated, wondering if he was really going to do this. Dressed like he was - barely more than a button-up shirt, no tie, and nothing like the formal slacks that the professors were wearing - he felt like he'd stand out for all the wrong reasons. Surely they'd just laugh him out of the building?

They let James in with just a t-shirt and jeans...

It was a club. They were clear about that, and...

God, you gotta do something. What are you going to do, spend your entire life just staring at a book?

Because that was most of what the university was training him to do at this point. All the adventures and friendships and fraternities that his father had sworn by had either gone up in smoke or they were no longer the major clubhouses that they used to be. The first thing that Tobias had done when he'd finally arrived was check in with them, and they were all closed up. No new members, no new guys hanging around. Not even one of them was accepting any new members, and...

Well, it was clear that the university authorities had been clamping down on the wild adventures that used to go on there. A few talks with some of the other professors, seeing if there was an outside way in, had confirmed that. None of the same parties, no more of the wild hazing nights. Nothing.

It was almost like the whole point of going to college, outside of studies, had just disappeared off the face of the earth. No wild parties that weren't clamped down on by the various student council members, nothing that the security officers allowed just because it was boys being boys, and none of those wild orgies that he heard about back in secondary school. Literally, nothing.

Just...this. Hawthwaites.

He looked at the building again. It was still strange to look at; everyone described it as some wooden husk that had come out of time, like it had been plopped here from some other era. While some of the descriptions - like wild statues of horny women or images of demons carved into the walls - were obviously not true, the gargoyles that others had described were, looming in wood relief from the top of the multi-story building.

It didn't look like some sex club, but every guy that he'd talked to that had come here had walked away with a smile on his face and a bit of a stain in the front of his pants. Obviously, something happened here, and he was the one missing out. The only one of his generation, apparently, to be missing out, considering that he was the last one to show up, and even then, only now that it was the holidays.

Just do it. Just do it.

Tobias forced himself to take a step forward, then another, until he was walking up to the Doberman bouncer. The dog turned to him, cocking his head to the side as he tried and failed to loom over the rather tall maned wolf. Tobias looked down at him, offering his ID with what he hoped was a decently mature air.

As the Doberman took the card, Tobias stomped down on the urge to explain himself, to crack jokes, to do anything that might have made him look younger than he was. He was twenty years old, already, and he had yet to actually do anything that intense. Not that he wanted to, mostly, but...

Well, there were experiences that someone should have had by now. And college should be more exciting than it was.

"You're here early," the Doberman said.

"...What?"

"I said, you're here early." The burly dog offered him the card back. "Most guys don't show up until at least eight, when the older guys go home."

"...Oh. Um, is that a problem?"

"Not if you don't mind sharing company with other guys. And, uh...just so you know?"

"Yeah?"

"You're screaming 'virgin.' None of my business whether you are or not, but just letting you know."

"...Thanks."

"No problem. Have a good night, man. And try not to get too carried away; Hawthwaites is something special, and let me tell you, I've seen too many men just walk out with their accounts drained with all the specials that they ordered."

He nodded, keeping his head down and trying not to blush. He felt like a kid getting addressed by a teacher or something. Nevertheless, he tried to commit that to memory; no need to be completely taken advantage of.

As he stepped inside, he felt...something. Almost like a weight getting taken off his shoulders in an odd way, like some of the worries and expectations of the rest of the world had slipped off him for a moment. For a split second, he felt...he felt like the low-key guilt that he'd been fighting about coming here in the first place had just disappeared. After all, why would it be a bad thing to come here to indulge? Why would it be anything less than natural to come to a gentleman's club, as a man, to indulge in the things that they offered?

The feeling lasted all of a second before he blushed, rubbing the back of his neck. Was he really thinking something like that? What reason did he have to think like that? What justification did he have to really think that he could do anything like that, considering that he hadn't even had his first time yet?

Nevertheless, some semblance of that remained, and it was a comfort. Maybe it was just going through with it, finally, that made him feel better. Regardless, he went with it, walking through the narrow entry hall towards the main room. A few coats hung on hooks to either side of him, and here and there, muddy shoes had been left behind to be claimed later. He debated leaving his own behind, but decided against it. If he decided to leave - he didn't want to, but admitted that it was a possibility - he wanted to be able to dart out as fast as his feet could carry him.

He reached the end of the entry hall and glanced at the lushly appointed, wood-paneled room. A well-lit bar waited at the far end of the room, in the corner and stretching along most of the rest of the far wall, and the professors and older clients that he'd noticed arriving had taken residence over there. Some of them glanced back his way, and he tried not to attract attention.

As he looked at the rest of the massive common room, from the raised quadrants of the room with empty tables and stages to the cloud of smoke rising from one corner off to his left, he realized that this place was almost like taking a step back in time, feeling like he was getting sucked back to a world where men were expected to come to places like this and relax when they were done with their daily toils.

It was...soothing, in its own way. Welcoming, like it was offering him a place to just put his outside life away and just be welcome as a man, a hard-working, well-intentioned man that needed to be spoiled for a little while. He started to smile -

"Haha! Girl, you're looking better than ever!"

Only to be caught off-guard with a familiar voice. He whipped his head toward the bar again, his eyes going wide as he realized that he recognized the elder, aging eagle that sat at the edge of the bar with one hand on a dove's tit and the other on a glass of some sort of alcohol. The older avian laughed again, dunking his beak in his drink before giving his full attention to the dove and all but groping her through her top, nearly making a pair of feathery breasts spill out in the open more than once.

That was his history professor, and sitting right beside him, to the maned wolf's utter shock, was the rhino that taught the Geography courses that he'd barely passed. They were both chuckling and drinking together, completely casual compared to the strict teaching styles that he'd seen in their classes, and his cheeks all but burned off his face at the idea of them seeing him here. The very thought of them knowing that he'd come here was enough to almost make him beat feet for the front door.

No, no, no.

He barely managed to stop himself, and maybe it was that feeling that he'd gotten from walking into the building, but it was almost...almost a sense of entitlement. As scared as he was about being caught out, he was also desperate to actually get something out of this. He deserved something. He deserved the feeling of being...of being...

Well, something. He didn't know what, but he'd had enough of being some loser that didn't get anything. No tail, no adventure, nothing of the university life that he was promised. He'd waited, he'd saved himself for this...and now...what? He was supposed to just ignore it, and hope that he could find something better later?

No. Not anymore.

Not for him.

Shaking his head, he tried to strut towards the tables on the raised sections of the club. At least up there, he'd be able to be alone, save for whatever girl came his way. He hoped that it'd be a good one. God, he hoped it'd be a good one.

Tobias sat down, taking a few deep breaths to calm himself down and try and think through what he was going to do next. He had barely taken that seat when he realized that he didn't know how the club worked. Not really, anyway.

Goddamn it...why couldn't they have been more explicit about the whole thing?

His friends - such as they were - had been very explicit about the sexy bits of the club. They'd said that the girls down at Hawthwaites were there to make you feel like a king, and that there wasn't a man that went there that didn't leave satisfied on some level. They made it sound like a brothel, but...but they'd never said how they were supposed to get the attention of the girls, or what it actually cost, or -

Well, anything other than the vague stories and the feeling of being the most special man in the world. He didn't know what he was supposed to do about that, though.

Glancing over his shoulders, he half-expected to see his professors with their hands full of tit, or worse. Instead, he saw them back to drinking, the doves that were tending to them teasingly stroking their arms and shoulders, massaging them, tending to them...but completely ignoring the -

He whipped his head back around before his staring could be noticed. No, no, no. He was not going to be caught staring at the eagle's package, that was something that could be taken entirely the wrong way, and he still had to sit in Professor Agelton's courses for another semester. He was not poking that bear.

At the same time, glancing back at their casual ease made him wonder if he was really cut out for this. He already felt more than a little stupid just being here, and particularly after the warning that he looked like a virgin, but knowing that there were confident professors just doing what they wanted, so casually getting some, made him wonder if it was 'too early' in a different sense. Maybe he should have waited another year.

And ended up getting nothing for the rest of the semester? Or longer?

Everyone else had already tried this place. Everyone else had already gone through the whole experience of going down to Hawthwaites and enjoying themselves. Some were regulars, some couldn't afford it, but all the other guys that he talked to did it at least once. He was the odd man out.

I need this. I need to be a man...to have this...experience.

He gripped the table a trifle harder than he should have, and his fingers ached as he pulled them back. As he rubbed his wrists and hands, he heard footsteps, and turned -

"Excusez-moi, monsieur, but this area is not open yet," a tabby cat in the most open-necked French-maid dress that he had ever seen said. She was leaning forward far enough that her breasts were on the verge of spilling past the lacy edge of her neckline, and he swore that he could almost see her nipples. "May I offer you a seat at the bar, and a drink?"

"Uh...I..."

"Monsieur? Are you well?"

Oh he was not. He was most definitely not well, but that didn't mean that he could admit that at the moment. He rubbed the back of his head as he tried to think of something to say, something to just excuse his inexperience. All he could think to do was puff out his chest a bit, almost like his father might have done, and try and be a little demanding and charming. He even went so far as to drop his voice a bit, making it gruffer than it really was.

"Ah, yes, well, I thought I might treat myself up here," he said, smiling as charmingly as he could and feeling like cringing inside. "I thought, perhaps, you might be willing to open it up a little early for a first-timer."

"Ah, but monsieur, it is not up to me. It is the rules of the house. If you wish to make a request, I must ask it of the madams and managers above me."

"Ah, yes, well..."

"In the meantime, shall I take you to the bar?" she asked, nodding. "Please, it would be a favor to me, and I would be ever so grateful, mon ami?"

"I - no. I want to stay here. And I would appreciate - I want to know -"

"Monsieur, please, don't be unreasonable about this. I know you want to be taken care of; let me do this for you, yes?"

It would have been so easy to say yes to that. He was already embarrassed, already wondering if he had made a mistake. Just settling in and letting someone else handle everything would have made it immensely less embarrassing...

But it would also have just completely destroyed what little confidence he still had. He sat up, more than a trifle angry, and he fixed her with a simple stare.

"No. Ask...ask your managers if you can open this area for now."

"...Oui, monsieur, I will ask."

The tabby cat bowed her head and hurried off, her ears slightly pulled back and her tail no longer dancing the way that it had been. He wondered if he had offended her, or if he had gotten too angry. Or too stupid.

Great. Now, she's probably going to get security, and then I'm going to be kicked out and blacklisted, and -

He had to force himself to keep from going down that road in the back of his head. He was pissed, and frustrated, and he had every right to be, but he didn't want to take it further than that just yet. If nothing else, college had taught him that he had a tendency to freak out just a little when he was already on edge, and that was an understatement for how he felt right at that moment. If he just gave it a little bit of time, he was probably going to be fine. He just had to let the world have that time to start sorting itself out.

So, he sat there. Instead of getting up and leaving, he kept taking deep breaths, holding onto that odd feeling that continued to hang around. It was like he was finally feeling at home, a sense of welcoming in, as if he'd already met the host and it was trying to figure out what he needed.

He didn't know why he thought of it that way, but there was that odd feeling in the background, like he was being watched and studied, all while something else had been already taken from him. Most hosts would have taken a coat or a hat or something like that, but this place, this feeling, felt like it had taken the responsibility of being restrained from him. A gentleman needn't remain restrained around those that were like him, or in this place; so long as they didn't overstep a certain line, they were welcome to be who they wanted to be.

The question was -

"I hear that you want this place to yourself, mon petit homme."

That was not the tabby voice. That was a much deeper, much stronger sort of voice, and it was the sound of someone that had a much greater command of the situation. Tobias turned slowly, and for the first time in a very long time, it was his turn to look up.

Looming over him was a giraffe, one that was dressed less like a maid, less like the maid's boss, and more like the House Mistress, she who was but a step beneath the house owner. Though black and lacy like the French dress that the tabby cat had worn, her attire was sleek, cut tight to her before flaring out wide at her heels, creating a stormy wave of black cloth that frothed with other cuts of lace. Patterns almost seemed to dance among it as she moved, only to disappear when she was still.

Her hands, likewise, were gilded with lace from her wrist upwards, flaring out in a cuff that made her look all the more regal, and as she held a hand-fan, flicking it back and forth before her face, she fixed him with a stare that all but glued him in place.

It didn't help that she loomed with that long neck and regal stature of hers. The way that it swept up and back almost reminded him of a snake looking down at him, though her eyes were decidedly warmer than those would have been, and the strength of her neck, long and slender but corded with power, continued through every exposed bit of flesh.

As she rolled her neck to the side, twisting her head with a delay at the end of it to look at him from another angle, he watched as a braid slipped out from behind her head, swinging along like a second tail, long and powerful, draping down her neck and over her shoulder before swinging most of the way down her back.

She chuckled, her voice surprisingly warm despite its authority, and she rested one hand on his shoulder.

"I asked you a question, mon jeune homme, though perhaps my English was not so refined as to make it clear. Were you wanting this place to yourself?"

"...Not anymore," he said, shaking his head. "Perhaps I should return to the bar."

"Ah? You feel challenged, and you must withdraw? Heh. Non. Non, you will not."

"I - what?"

"Stand for me, s'il vous plaît."

He did, slowly. No sooner had he gotten to his feet than she swept her fan closed, tapping it to his chin. Without thinking, he swatted it away, something in the air giving him the courage to do something he wouldn't do outside of the club. The giraffe nodded.

"Sufficient. Mirabelle!" She clapped. "Two cups and a carafe. Mr..."

"Tobias."

"Tobias and I will be having a chat, in the third room, I think."

"I -"

"Follow me, mon petit homme. I believe we should have a nice, long chat. Over coffee, of course."

It was the first time that anyone had asked him out in his life, and it was probably the most direct 'date' that he had ever received. Shaking his head in mild disbelief, he stood up from the table and followed the giraffe down from the raised quadrant and towards one of the far doors. The tabby cat from before was already at work, dashing about by the bar, and the professors had turned to see what the clapping was about.

Tobias kept his head down, not wanting to meet their eyes or expose himself. The other guys had always noticed each other, they had just...never known the girls.

They did not have to walk far. The third room was only two doors down, and he was only aware of the first door because it was open. It felt...odd, twisting and turning in this space, as if something had disappeared, but it was so strange that he chose not to think about it. He didn't want that on his mind; he didn't want to think about anything weirder than he'd already started thinking.

As they stepped inside, the giraffe guided him to a desk, putting him with his back to the wall, and her in the position of lesser authority. The tabby cat followed, placing a steel coffee carafe between the pair of them, and a pair of tea cups on either side on a saucer. As the younger woman moved to pour, the giraffe held up her hand.

"That will be all, oui. Merci."

"Yes, ma'am."

And with that, they were alone. He leaned back slightly, trying to get comfortable in his chair as the giraffe continued to loom over him. She fixed him with a curious stare, and he sat up a little bit taller in the chair, borrowing masculinity from every mental image and every memory that he could dredge up from the depths of his mind. He cleared his throat, reaching for the carafe -

"Ah, allow me, monsieur."

But she beat him to it, pouring for both of them before settling it back in place. He shook his head, half-expecting cream and sugar, but -

No, no, that would be the young man's game. He had to be better. He had to...he had to do something to show that he wasn't so...

He sipped the coffee without a word. It was bitter and too strong by half, but it wasn't so bad as he had thought it would be. He swallowed hard, regardless, forcing it down before it had the chance to rest on his tongue for more than a few seconds. The giraffe, on the other hand, sipped slowly, clearly savoring it.

Time passed slowly as she let the silence linger, but he refused to be the one to break it. Once more, there seemed to be some sort of impasse between them, something that lasted longer than it should. He held firm, and this time, she chuckled.

"I see you have some standards. Oui. Bon." The giraffe nodded. "I am Maelle, and that is what you will call me. And you, Tobias? What have you come here for?"

"...I'm starting to wonder if any of the stories about this place are true."

"Oh, they are all true, to an extent. What you will find, however, depends very much on who you are, and what you need." Maelle spread her hands over her lap. "For instance. A man that comes here seeking sex will find companionship, but it may not be the debauchery that he believes is his for the taking. Unless, of course, he comes here with the ability to make that claim real."

"..."

"You are not such a man. Not yet." She smiled, and despite what she said, it did not come across as patronizing. If anything, it came across as a simple statement, and appreciation of something else. "You came here...seeking answers, one might think. I am right, oui?"

"I came here for what everyone else came here for."

"Non." She shook her head, slowly getting to her feet. He had a moment to see her leaner curves - surprisingly so, for her size - as she got out of her seat, slowly circling around the table until she stood behind his chair. She rested her hands on his shoulders, and he tried not to tense up too much. "Non, you did not. Everybody comes here for something different. Some for nostalgia...some out of ennui, looking for something to fill the emptiness...some for a sense of adventure...some to be what the world says is no longer permitted..."

"...And...and the girls?" he asked.

"They have their own reasons to be here, heh. But, this is not about them, mon petit homme." She squeezed his shoulders gently. "This is about you, and what you want. Why did you come here, prie dis?"

"...I wanted to have an adventure. To see the things that everyone says that university is supposed to be about. Not the tame thing that it's become."

"Ah, you want to feel like a man...to earn your place with other men..." She chuckled. "Were it not for where you are, do you know how that would sound to them?"

"Yeah...I know..."

"But you are not...at least, not judging by your rising shaft, hmm?"

His cheeks burned as she pressed against his head from behind, her breasts grinding against his neck, spilling out either side as her hands ran down his body. He tried not to think about where they were going, but that was all but impossible, particularly considering how it felt to have them down there. Oh, he was already stiffening, alright, and getting stiffer by the second in his pants.

"I want -"

"May I offer some advice, mon petit homme?" she asked, whispering in his ear.

"...Yes."

"Ah, yes. Bon, bon. You listen."

Her head moved from side to side, sometimes whispering in one ear, sometimes in the other, and sometimes from above. That long neck meant that she could speak from any direction at any time, and her hands were a distraction all their own as they went further down, resting on his waistband and on the verge of unzipping and unbuttoning him.

"Adventures...are work. Stability is no less a sign of success than your experiences," she whispered in that waving, alternating way. "The more that you demand, the more effort that you must put out, and the more that you risk."

"...What...what am I risking here?"

"Tell me, petit homme. Do you believe that you are enough of a man to demand the girls of the house?"

That was the question, and he shivered as he felt her fingers finally undo the buttons to his pants. His cock was already hard, out of its sheath and throbbing in anticipation of someone else touching it. He groaned, huffing as her fingers slipped behind where the forming knot would be, and he growled deep in his throat.

"I could be...I'm holding back..."

"Ah, but of course. As all men do, no? But you? You know how hard that would be. To be so much more...to be something else to get what you want..."

"...Are you...are you saying..."

"Ah, the house could let it happen...you could become something more...but why? Why do that, when you can be you...and let someone like me just arrange things properly for your liking..."

It was a handjob. It was nothing but a handjob, but there was something to the way that Maelle spoke and the way that she handled his cock that made him feel like a king, regardless. She was here, so regal and more majestic than anyone that he had seen on campus, and yet, she was doing what he was asking. He was getting something from her, something so sensual and arousing, and he was still in charge.

He was the man.

She was the servant.

"Do you want to pay that price...for something so little, mon petit homme?"

"...Depends..."

"Oh? On what, mon ami?"

"How much I have to give...to get to finish in your mouth..." He groaned as he tilted his head back, looking her in the eye as her fingers tightened around his cock. Each stroke was slow, gentle, and yet, firm as he could have asked. The lace around her wrists tickled his shaft and his sac, but he kept talking through the pleasure. "You are...something else...but I want more than just...this..."

"You want?"

"...I need more than this...and I..."

Be more. Be more. He could be more manly, he was sure, more like the person that deserved to come here. He tried...

And he couldn't quite summon it. He sagged slightly into the chair, and the giraffe chuckled softly. The sting was taken out of it with a kiss to his cheek.

"You are young. And you are learning. Perhaps, one day, you will have more than this. But today, mon petit homme, this is better...and you are loving it."

That was the thing. He was, and he enjoyed the way that she made him feel. It was like she saw him and the 'not yet' was weighted more towards the 'yet' than the 'not.' She kept stroking, pulling, teasing around his cock, making him arch his back against the chair time and time again.

Eventually, she moved around, no longer standing behind him, but kneeling before him. Due to that long neck, she still looked him right in the eye, and she stroked harder, faster, using both hands and all but wringing his cum from his dick as he felt his pleasure rising higher and higher.

Up, down, up, down her gentle hands went, stroking from base, over the knot, and right up to the tip. He was oozing enough pre-cum that her thumbs teased right around the head, rubbing into the entrance to his urethra just enough to squish out a bit more before going back down the shaft. Up, down, up, down, always giving him that feather-light tickle over his knot before going back to the head.

He was a mess, panting, finding little things to say. No dirty talk of her being a slut, because that didn't seem appropriate, but not worship, either. Instead, he was left with little more than 'yes,' and 'more,' demands that were almost primal as she worked him over.

Up, down, up, down, and then -

"Mmm."

Maelle surprised him. A simple kiss. Not a suck, not a blowjob, just a kiss right under his cock. It set him off, hard, and his seed went flying. He arched his back, panting and spasming from the long, slow handjob and the inevitable release. The slow strokes that continued, milking out everything he had, only made the pleasure linger longer.

Finally, it came to an end, and he slumped back in the chair, wheezing and gasping afterward. He groaned under his breath, shaking his head as the giraffe stood up, shaking her head.

"Tsk, tsk. So much, so messy. Perhaps a girl should swallow it, if only to keep it from staining the room."

"Mmmph..."

"Ah, but you did well, oui. Very well." She smiled, reaching into the bosom of her dress and drawing out a handkerchief. "Take this, my petite flame, and remember that you may burn as bright as you like..."

He took it slowly, holding it to his face. He appreciated the warmth, but it was the comforting scent that lingered. Cinnamon, so different from anything that he expected. Maelle smiled, patting his cheek before turning on her heel, doubtlessly heading off to other things in the house that needed seeing to.

For him, he just sat there for a moment, recovering. The moment turned to a minute, and he remained there, looking down at the carafe after he was able to move at all. Slowly, he picked it up and poured himself another cup.

"How bright can I burn?" he muttered. "...Not that bright yet. Where can I find some cream?"

The End

Summary: A young man goes to the Hawthwaits club, and ends up getting a very interesting experience.

Tags: M/F, Femdom, Contesting, Playful, Reality Fuckery, Gentleman's Club, Tabby, Maned Wolf, Giraffe, Long Neck, Teasing, Handjob, Masturbation, Semi-Prostitution, College, First Time, Cum, Orgasm,