Maerchentic Retribution
#9 of Maerchentic
"Maerchentic Retribution"
by K.M. Hirosaki ([email protected])
AUTHOR'S NOTES: This story and all characters within are copyright (c) 2004 K.M. Hirosaki.
This is the ninth installment of 'Maerchentic.' It might be readable on its own, but it probably makes a lot more sense if you're familiar with the rest of the series. I recommend that you read at least some of the other installments first.
WARNING: This story contains material that could very possibly be offensive, disturbing, or otherwise upsetting to many people. Bear that in mind when reading, and please conduct yourself accordingly.
Feedback may be directed to
[email protected]-=-=-
Oakcrest Children's Home was mostly typical, as far as orphanages went. The children were well cared for and often sent to live in good homes with loving families, but as the less foolishly optimistic members of society might expect, life in an orphanage wasn't the kindest of experiences for a good deal many of those who passed through it.
People would have done well to remember that, Orphanage Director Jerald Memphis thought. Nowadays, calling a place like Oakcrest an "orphanage" was frowned upon, and the wolf was wryly amused that this social stipulation didn't apply to his own title. He didn't much care what other people called the place; if it was full of orphans, it was an orphanage, no matter what safe and sterile label was slapped upon it.
Memphis had been at Oakcrest for nearly three decades. He was beginning to push fifty, but he had some life left within him yet. It was a principle of his to keep in shape. After all, if his livelihood revolved around the well-being of a rambunctious caboodle of kids, he had damn well be able to keep up with them! As director, his duties had to focus mainly on administration, but he tried to have a hands-on role in the children's daily lives, too, when it was possible. Sometimes, his hands got quite on indeed, but he tried to keep his guilty pleasures to a minimum.
Today, however, brought a different sort of guilty pleasure to Jerald Memphis' table. Not a day earlier, he had gotten a phone call -- directly, not through his secretary. Memphis had been offered a proposition. The details were scarce, but were promised to be forthcoming, along with "sizeable reimbursement for the time alone." It was sketchy, yes, but the wolf felt stupid to refuse it.
The appointment was set to begin within the next five minutes. Tapping a foot nervously at the floor, the wolf went about rearranging his desk and tidying up some clutter. Every little bit helped when it came to impressing people, and when those people had lots of money that they were willing to give away, help was worth every shred of effort, even down to something like a nicely arranged coffee mug full of pens.
It was still a touch early when Jerald's intercom sounded. "Mr. Memphis, I've got a gentleman here, a Mr. Harrington, who claims to be here for your two o'clock, but I'm not showing anything like that." His secretary sounded befuddled. She was a meticulously punctual vixen, and Jerald knew that even needing to check her calendar for a possible mistake had probably felt like an insult.
Jerald pressed the button down on his end. "Send him in, Lilah," he said, and then sat back into his chair. Force of habit made him look around for any appropriate paperwork that he might be forgetting at the last second, even though he knew that, in this case, there was none... yet. With one final (slightly nervous) deep breath, the wolf fixed his eyes on the door as the knob turned and clicked.
The office door opened, and Memphis straightened his back and shoulders. His hunches about needing to ensure an air of professionalism had been correct. The man who had come to see him was a linsang, looking just under thirty or so. He was dressed in a very sharp and handsome blue business suit that brought out the creamy and silvery tones of his fur. The wolf filed a quick mental note get in touch with his own tailor again, as soon as he had the time.
"Welcome," Jerald said, motioning to the chair. "Is there anything I can get you before we begin? Lilah could put on some coffee, or...?"
The linsang took his seat and set his thin attaché case in his lap. "No, thank you. I'd rather get straight to business, if you don't mind." He was soft-spoken, polite, but guarded. His eyes revealed little, other than a seriousness that couldn't be overlooked if one tried.
Jerald folded his hands together. "Of course," he replied. "If you'll pardon my asking... I didn't get your name on the phone yesterday evening, but my Lilah said you're Mr. Harrington, yes?"
"Yes," the linsang said, without nodding. "I apologize if I startled her, but I think you already know why I'd rather this meeting not be documented."
"Mm," Jerald hummed, trying to better assess just what this gentleman was thinking. "May I ask whom you represent, Mr. Harrington?"
The linsang's eyes narrowed with a touch of regard. "Only myself, Mr. Memphis." The politeness in his speech felt genuine, not like it was an air to keep things overformal. "My interests, and the interests of a young boy."
"Ah. Were you interested in adopting one of our charges, then, Mr. Harrington?" Memphis asked.
Harrington shook his head. "No." The word was as short and sudden as the click of the locks on the linsang's attaché. He reached into it, and pulled out a short stack of bills. Jerald looked at it as it was tossed onto the desk, and his eyes widened when he saw the denomination.
"Mr. Memphis," the linsang said, fixing eye contract, "the conversation I'm about to have with you is very illegal -- its contents, even more so." The young man didn't sound like Jerald's image of a criminal, nor was his demeanor quite right. "Should you not be interested, say so now, and I will leave without another word. That," he said, nodding to the money on the desk, "will be yours to keep, regardless."
Jerald leaned his chair back some more, and hid the deep breath he needed to take. "And if I hear you out, I take it that there will be more?"
"Much more," Harrington replied, again without nodding. His resolve was astounding, Memphis thought. It made matters all that much more confusing, though, as to why the linsang was here at Oakcrest, of all places, to speak to him, of all people.
The wolf rapped the tip of his shoe against the inside of his desk. "Very well. I'm listening," he responded, jumping on the opportunity before his conscience decided to get in the way. Besides, if the proposal turned out to be something truly ridiculous, he could always turn it down. Probably.
Once more, Harrington reached into the case in his lap, this time withdrawing a plain manila folder. He slid it onto the desk with much more care than he had tossed the stack of bills, and turned it so that it was facing Jerald properly. "This is my son," the linsang said, showing a hint of emotion in his voice for the first time since he'd entered the office.
Jerald's eyebrows went up, but he simply nodded, and opened the folder. Harrington continued as the wolf perused its contents. "Much of the hard work has been done for you, already, I should think. He's got all of his identifying paperwork -- falsified, of course -- as well as full medical records, which I assure you are accurate, edited only to remove any connection of his relationship to me."
On the top of the file was a photograph of the child in question. According to the records, he was eleven years old, so Memphis judged that the picture must have been very recent. His resemblance to Mr. Harrington was striking; a person would probably need falsified records in order to believe that the two weren't father and son!
Memphis didn't waste too much time reading the rest of the details on the top sheet, especially since Harrington had already told him that they were bogus. The wolf allowed himself a few moments to be distracted by the young boy's picture. He was quite 'pretty' for a boy his age. In his line of work, Memphis had seen a lot of children develop into young adults. Probably, Harrington's son was at the cusp of puberty, and from the looks of it, he'd grow into his body quite nicely.
Just then, Harrington cleared his throat. When the wolf looked up, the linsang was giving him a peculiar look. It wasn't quite scrutinizing, but it was something close. "His name is Shane," Harrington said. "That part is real, at least."
The files were meticulous. They contained everything that they needed to, but not a shred more. What Jerald had been given was enough to prove that the boy existed, but nothing much more beyond that. "Things... seem to be in order, here, Mr. Harrington," the wolf said, looking up once more. "I suppose now comes the obvious question, then: what would you like me to do?"
Harrington leaned forward shallowly. "You're going to take this boy in," he said. "You're going to take good care of him, and you're going to ensure that he goes to the best home you can find. You're going to be given whatever funds are necessary to fabricate a believable lineage for him, and funds to properly investigate any family that wishes to take him in. And, might I add, your reward for doing this for me will be quite handsome. Am I making myself quite clear, Mr. Memphis?"
Something looked to be alive behind Harrington's eyes. His determination had a scary finality to it. Jerald was curious as to what the linsang was doing, and why he was willing to throw so much money at it. "Mr. Harrington," he asked, adjusting the collar of his shirt, "do you mind if I ask why you're doing this?"
"I do mind, actually," Harrington replied curtly. "All that you need to know is this: after you get this boy, and after I am satisfied that you're going to abide by my request, nobody -- not you, not the boy, nobody -- is going to be seeing or hearing from me again. Your job, Mr. Memphis, is to ensure that if anybody, at any time -- my son, or someone else -- tries to look for information on his family, that not only does it not lead to me, but that it also leads to something believable. I trust that you can make this happen?"
Harrington was almost scary, now, and it wasn't because of what he was saying or the way he was saying it. It was the fact that his words implied a deadly seriousness that Jerald couldn't put a finger on. The wolf swallowed a tiny lump in his throat, and nodded. "Most probably, yes," he replied. "I'm confused about one thing, though."
"Yes?" Harrington asked. Nothing about his behavior was threatening, and that made Jerald feel threatened. "You're obviously allowed to ask some questions. Otherwise you won't be able to do your job."
That made Jerald feel better. "Your boy is eleven years old, if I'm doing the math here right, yes?" The linsang nodded, and Jerald continued. "Even without checking records, I'm certain that he at least knows who his father is, yes?"
Harrington shook his head. "No. I've watched him grow up, and I've played an integral -- if secret -- role in his life, but he doesn't know who I am. But he's still my son, and I love him, and so I've got a very keen interest in making sure that he's taken care of from here on out."
"I see," Memphis responded. Come to mention it, this Harrington fellow must have fathered his son at a young age if Shane was already eleven years old. "But then, what of the boy's current living situation? Does he live with his mother? A foster fam -- "
"I said that you could ask some questions, Mr. Memphis," the linsang said, putting a sharp point on his words. He reached into his briefcase, and added a second wad of money to the first. "Make this happen, sir, and what you've got here shall be but the tip of the iceberg."
Harrington's deal was almost too good to be true. Still, the man was offering an awful lot of money -- in cash, no less! -- which Memphis would have been a fool to turn away without giving it due thought. "You said that my payment for this will be separate from the money I'll need to pull the strings that you want, yes?" the wolf asked.
"That's correct," Harrington replied, clipping the two locks on the attaché case closed. Jerald received the unspoken message in that quite clearly: the advance payments were at an end. "Now, would you like some time to think things over and decide?"
"No," Memphis said, shaking his head. "Just a few moments, first, that's all." He turned his chair sideways, and looked at the plaques and certificates that adorned the wall, adulations and awards that had accumulated over his decades at Oakcrest. If Memphis were caught doing this, everything he'd built up -- his career, this home for children, and whatever legacy those things would have -- would be gone.
If he were caught, that was.
"Might I meet the boy, first?" the wolf asked.
Without any sort of impatience, Harrington shook his head. "I'm afraid not. He doesn't know that this is going to happen. Surely you can see the impossibility of your request."
Again, the wolf nodded, seeing the man's point. "If you'll be kind enough to give me just a few more minutes to look things over," he said, picking up the folder file. He flipped through the sheets with his right hand, while his left hand kept Shane's picture held against the inside cover. That was holding his attention more than any of the fake information provided in the file itself.
The boy really was quite lovely. He had a beautiful face, with wonderful eyes that held a shine of youthful spryness and intelligence. Everything about the way he just looked said that he had potential to grow up to a fine young man. His medical report, if it could be believed, claimed that he was a sturdy and healthy boy, too. Jerald would be more than happy to see that such a child got his fair chance at life.
In the meantime, Jerald could secretively drag his feet in finding a home for the boy. Harrington obviously had very strict standards; Oakcrest could quite conceivably take years in finding a family that met the high criteria that were plainly quite necessary for such a fine example of a young man as Shane Harrington.
During those years, Jerald Memphis could take it upon himself to be a pivotal part of his life, getting close to him and seeing to it that his journey into manhood was one without incident. Young men could often benefit from having a close adult figure and role model in their lives, and a boy like Shane was just at that age where he'd be forming the outlooks and attitudes that would shape the person he'd grow up to be. He'd likely be scared and confused in a new situation like life in Oakcrest. A strong personal bond and a guiding hand or two was just the thing that Jerald would gladly provide for him.
Yes. With a young lad as prematurely handsome as Shane around, the next few years at Oakcrest could be quite pleasant indeed.
"Excuse me." Harrington's voice cut the silence so jarringly that Memphis found himself jerking upright in his seat. The linsang leaned forward some more. "Mr. Memphis, could you look at me for a moment?"
The wolf's skin and fur prickled all over his body. There was something new in Harrington's tone of voice, and it wasn't a good thing. He said nothing in response, but merely looked back into the linsang's eyes, willing his heart to stop beating so damned fast.
A crease furrowed its way across the linsang's brow, and his eyes got narrow. "You're planning on doing sexual things with my son," he said, with as much disbelief as anger.
"I am not!" Jerald barked back. There was almost no force behind his lie, and it sounded transparent even to him. How could he not, though? The boy had such a lovely face, and staring back into his father's at that very moment brought so many images to mind that --
"You sick fuck!" Harrington spat. He lurched forward and slammed his hands down on the top of Memphis' desk, attaché case spilling to the floor. "I can see it in your eyes. Do you abuse all of your children here, Mr. Memphis?" His tail was lashing about, looking like some imposing serpent wanting to strike.
Panic exploded in Jerald's chest and soaked straight up into his brain. "N-no!" he stammered in denial. "I don't... I don't ab... I would never hurt a child! I run this place because -- "
"Because you get to pick and choose? Is that it?" The linsang swept one full half of Memphis' desk clear as he pulled himself on top of it. He crawled closer, and his dark brown eyes shone with murderous rage. "How does work, for a man in your position? Do you get to make nice, looking for the cute and gullible ones?"
"That's not what I do!" the wolf cried, feeling the fear in his unsteady voice. "I wouldn't... wouldn't ever force one of my children here to... to do anything that... that they wouldn't want to do."
Jerald knew as soon as he'd said it that it had been the wrong answer. The look in Harrington's eyes told him that much. "Very convenient for you, then, that you have confused young boys and girls -- or is it just the boys, Mr. Memphis? -- at an age where they don't know what 'what they want' means, hm?" He had come over the desk, now, and he was sitting on the edge, close enough to Jerald that the wolf could almost feel the breath of his words. "Let me wager a little guess. Little Shane would be here for, what, perhaps week or two before you'd be teaching about how special boys who learn to use their muzzles to service adult authority figures get special treatment?"
The mental image that came to mind from that description was made all that much more vivid by the fact that Jerald had already seen a picture of the young boy's pretty, smiling face, and try as he might to will that thought from his brain, he couldn't. Harrington's lip peeled up in a snarl, face twisting in disgust as if he could see the projection on Memphis' mind's eye and was repulsed by what he saw. The wolf whimpered, and when he did, Harrington smiled.
It was a sick sort of smile, though, that went on to bare teeth. "You're right to be afraid of me, you fucking slime. I wonder if you've ever considered how afraid some of your children probably are of you."
Memphis stared back into the linsang's rage-filled eyes, paralyzed with fright. Those eyes softened a bit, and the wolf felt a split-second's worth of relief that quickly died when he realized that he was seeing things wrong. The linsang's eyes weren't softening; they were changing color, switching from brown to blue, and then continuing to get even lighter.
"Do you know what the mind of a frightened child is like, Memphis?" For the first time, Harrington had addressed him without a title, and for some weird reason, the wolf caught onto it, despite the dozens of other reasons to be afraid right now. "I think that perhaps you should."
The room shook, or at least it felt like it did. For the span of a fleeting thought, Jerald felt that nagging sensation of something on the tip of his tongue, but then it was gone, replaced with nothing. There was nothing but Harrington's glowing blue eyes and oppressive fear.
"Now, you be good and hold still for me, okay?" the linsang said, leaning down and forward. Jerald's initial instinct was to move away, but he couldn't. This office was just so big and scary and imposing, full of strange things, and this Mr. Harrington was being so mean to him.
Harrington's fingers went for Jerald's belt, and they gracefully undid the buckle. The wolf knew exactly what was happening, and he wanted Harrington to stop so, so bad, but he just couldn't say anything. It didn't stop, either. The linsang's fingers went next to his slacks' button, and then to his zipper, peeling the front of the pants open to show a triangle-shaped patch of underwear.
"Shhh," the linsang whispered, putting a finger to Jerald's lips just when the wolf was about to finally issue a protest. "It'll be okay, Jerry. I know what I'm doing." Those slender fingers peeled the front of the wolf's underpants down, and slipped inside. Harrington began to stroke the sides of his furred sheath, which was already partially swollen. Jerald vaguely remembered that something had excited him into that state -- something about a photograph of something? -- but he couldn't recall clearly.
Memphis' eyes closed. He knew just what was happening, and it felt very, very good, but he still wished more than anything that Harrington would just stop and leave him alone. This was all just too weird, and he didn't understand why he was even feeling this way or thinking this way. Thinking only kept getting harder, too, as other things got harder, like wedging a cog into something that was already discombobulated.
A hand began to stroke across Jerald's cheek and muzzle, and the wolf opened his eyes again. The linsang was looking back into his face with adoration and reassurance, and it looked like his attention was all there. At the same time, though, the dexterous manner in which the hand down between his legs moved told him otherwise. Why did it have to feel good?
When that question stung through his mind, Jerald whimpered. He felt so close to knowing the answer to that, like it was something so obvious that he shouldn't have ever forgotten it. But he had. And the confusion only grew as Harrington kept on using his soft, fuzzy fingers to excite him physically.
"Something wrong?" the linsang asked, cocking his head to one side. He cradled one of Jerald's cheeks warmly in his other hand, and leaned in to give him a kiss on the nose. It felt disgusting and wrong, and he wanted to smack this bad person's arm away to keep him from touching his face like that.
Instead, Jerald had to keep the full truth out of his own response in order to make himself feel better. "This doesn't feel right," he said. His adult voice sounded too old and too strange. Why did he sound so gruff?
Again, the linsang shushed him soothingly. "What's the matter? Doesn't it feel good?" he asked, continuing to caress the wolf's cheek. The fingers around Jerald's erection closed down tighter, making the wolf clench his eyes closed again. Why wouldn't Harrington just stop that? Couldn't he tell that it was weird?
"It... it feels good, yeah," Jerald answered. He wanted to lie and say that it felt bad, but he didn't. He also couldn't say that he hated it. After all, Harrington hadn't asked if he'd liked it; he'd asked if it felt good, and that was the truth.
"You said it didn't feel right, though," Harrington said. "How come? Does it make you feel funny?"
There! That was something! He could use that! "Yeah. It's really weird. I don't know if I like it."
Harrington nodded a little, and gave him a knowing little smile. "You're scared, aren't you?" The wolf nodded silently. "It's okay. I know what will make you feel less nervous, Jerry." As he was saying that, he took both of his hands away (to Memphis' relief) and brought them to his own pants (to Memphis' renewed dismay). Try as he might to look away, the wolf was compelled. He stared forward and watched the linsang slowly and deliberately take out his own erection. It looked different from Jerald's. It was thinner and it was a stranger pink color.
"Let me see your hand, hon," Harrington said to Jerald, reaching for one. The wolf managed to at least keep his arm still for a second or two, but when the linsang started to pull on his hand, he didn't fight it. One by one, the linsang pulled Jerald's fingers apart, and then closed them back down around the length of that hard and warm flesh poking out.
Instinct fired in Memphis' brain. This was familiar. He'd done this before, and he almost knew what to do, but he was bewildered when he actually tried to visualize it. The harder he tried to think, the worse it made his head feel, and so he stopped, because he was afraid that he'd be sick, and it would be a shame to throw up and mess up such a nice office that was undoubtedly very hard to keep in order.
The linsang put his hand over Jerald's, and he smiled at him. "Now, just like this, okay?" he said, starting to move the wolf's hand back and forth. There was something so frustrating about what he was doing. As Jerald moved his hand, though, he found himself getting into an easy and simple rhythm that was sort of fun. Harrington was smiling, too, and that smile only got wider as his eyes got narrower. "That's it. Just like that, okay?" He let go of the wolf's hand.
A spasm went through Jerald's arm and his neck, like his muscles were contracting too hard. Again, something picked at the back of his brain, but he did nothing except continue to stroke and look into Harrington's face. The handsome linsang looked so pleased and happy. A low, soft purr trilled from his throat, and he leaned back onto his hands on the desk. "Oh, there you go, Jerry. Just keep rubbing it real slow like that. It feels really good," he said, opening one of his creepy blue eyes. Jerald swallowed a hard lump in his throat, and nodded as he kept on doing as he was told.
Mr. Harrington looked like he was enjoying things quite a bit. His smile never left his face for a moment, although, from time to time, it would become a frightening smile. "See, there, guy? There's nothing to be afraid of. It feels nice. I like it." Reassurance stemmed up someplace inside of Jerald's consciousness, but even as he felt it, he knew that it was wrong. Somehow, it was perverted and bad, and he shouldn't have been taken in by it. But he smiled back at the linsang regardless, to show him that he understood.
For a moment, Jerald looked down into his own lap. He was still hard, and every heartbeat carried a strange sensation with it. The way that he pulsed and twitched was compelling him to keep looking at himself, but the compulsion to tend to Mr. Harrington was stronger. He was beginning to actually like the way that the linsang's hard cock felt, getting warmer and slipperier the more he played with it. Once he realized that he thought that, though, he was overwhelmed with sudden self-revulsion.
"Hey, it's all right," Harrington said, like he knew what the wolf was thinking. "I'm not going to hurt you. Here." He reached out and scratched underneath Jerald's chin, and the wolf tilted his head back. The linsang's claws felt nice, making his skin bristle as he took a relaxing breath.
After that, Harrington reached up to play with one of Jerald's pricked-up ears, rubbing his thumb at the short, grayed-out fur on the inside. "Smile for me, okay?" he said to the wolf, and the wolf did. The linsang grinned back, and brushed his hand down the side of Memphis' face, neck, and shoulder. "Give me a kiss," he said with a blank face.
Memphis tilted his head back further still. The idea of kissing another guy was a funny one. Part of him thought that he remembered having done it before, but that was silly! What would have ever made him do something like that? Still, Mr. Harrington was a handsome enough fellow, and so he guessed that it was okay. He started to rise to his feet, but Harrington put both of his paws on Jerald's shoulders, and pushed him back down into the desk chair.
"No, no, no," the linsang said, clucking his tongue teasingly. "Down here." He used one hand to pull the wheeled chair closer, and then used his other to pull the wolf's head down between his legs. Jerald's keen lupine nose was overwhelmed by the scent of Mr. Harrington's arousal, and the smell was as alluring as it was imposing.
"How... how come?" the wolf asked with a timid tremble to his voice. His eyes were straining to look into Harrington's face. Mostly, he could just make out the gleam of the linsang's teeth and the glow of his eyes.
Those eyes flashed, and a series of still images snapped their way through Memphis' consciousness. He could see memories of himself, looking down, seeing various orphans from past and present in positions awfully similar to the one that he himself was in now. Those images were torn away as soon as he saw them, and then, they were just like ghostly specters in the back of his head without substance. All that remained was a sense of fear that was made stronger by the fact that he didn't know what was causing it.
"Just one little kiss. It'll be fine." Harrington rubbed his fingers through the fur on the back of Jerald's head, but he didn't push. The wolf was afraid that he might, though, so he did as he was told for his own good. His lips touched the flared head of the linsang's cock, and the warm, slippery liquid that coated it soaked into them.
It tasted sweet, and it the flavor carried with it the shadows of still more memories. He couldn't put any substance behind them, though. He couldn't stop this recurring nagging effect, and it made him want to cry that it kept happening to him. Nothing made sense, not a single bit, and it made his heart slam harder and harder with every beat. The feel of the warm drizzle on his lips was nice, though, and scooped with the very tip of his tongue before pulling away from the kiss that Harrington had wanted.
For his part, Harrington looked quite happy indeed, but there was no satisfaction behind his smile. "Oh, that was very nice, cutie!" he said, petting him condescendingly on the side of the muzzle. "I think maybe it'd be nice if I could have another. You're a nice wolf, aren't you, Jerry?"
Mr. Harrington might have been scaring him, but he was trying really hard to seem nice. Maybe things would get better. Or maybe this was all some kind of test to see how well that he listened to his elders. In any event, Jerald didn't need to be that worried; he could give one more kiss without much trouble. He touched his trembling lips back down and looked up into the linsang's face, seeking approval.
Approval was the one emotion on Harrington's face that Jerald could actually read. Anything beyond that was too comfortable. "Make it a nice, deep kiss this time, Jerry," the linsang coaxed. The wolf felt newly nervous again. Why did the rules keep changing on him? He just wanted to make Mr. Harrington happy so that he'd leave him alone, finally. But every time he did what he was told, there were just two new things that he'd be asked for, and --
The thought never finished, because Jerald's brain was shoved into full panic as his head was shoved forward. His lips were spread apart by the poking end of Harrington's shaft, which then slid all the way along the wolf's tongue. It was so smooth, was the first thing that Jerald thought, but then instinct kicked back in. He tried to snap his head backward, by Harrington's hand kept him held in place. As soon as Jerald felt resistance, he gave up, and begged with his eyes as he looked up.
"Now, there, just be calm," the linsang said, with an evenness to his voice that Jerald knew he shouldn't be hearing. "I know what I'm doing. Everything's going to be all right. Just suck on it a little bit, all right?" Jerald hesitated. Why was Harrington asking him all this? How had he even gotten into this situation to begin with?
Memphis' moment's worth of hesitation was met by a tightening of fingers at the back of his head and neck. It didn't hurt -- yet -- but the wolf knew that it could so long as Harrington chose to let it. "Jerry, be nice, and I promise I'll be nice back to you, okay?" Pleading? Was the linsang pleading with him? Maybe he felt bad about something, and Jerald was the only person who could make it feel better. It was a big stretch of logic -- he knew it was a long shot when he thought it -- but it was enough to make him hold on.
The wolf started to suck. He felt like his muzzle was somehow too big, and it was disconcerting. He kept it up, though, treating the task like it wasn't out of the ordinary, because he wanted the linsang to be happy and hopefully finally be satisfied. In the meantime, it was brutally embarrassing, but at least it didn't hurt. It was pretty simple, too. All that he had to do was suck, right?
"Mmm... a bit lighter," the linsang suddenly said, making Jerald flinch as his one bit of confidence was broken as soon as he'd found it. He did as instructed, easing up on the suction, and being nice and gentle with the hard bit of flesh in his mouth. His breath cycled through his nostrils as he concentrated so hard that he lost any sense of time.
His fur suddenly felt like it was smoldering, as if he'd been lit on fire for a split second and then doused with water. Again, he tried to pull back in a panic, but Harrington caught onto the back of his head, and shoved it back down. "Will you stop doing that?" the linsang snapped, letting the harshness show in his voice, finally. "I'm not asking you to do a lot. I just want you to...actually, you know what? Never mind. Just hold still and shut up."
Tears began to pool at the bottoms of Jerald's eyes. The linsang was so mad at him, because he couldn't even sit still and follow simple instructions. He hadn't asked for any of this! Shouldn't Harrington have realized that he didn't have any idea what he was doing?
When the linsang started to move Jerald's head back and forth, though, he suspected that he should know what he was doing. There was muscle memory helping in his movements, and it felt like something he was used to, even if he didn't understand how. Again and again, Harrington's shaft slid between the wolf's lips, getting faster each time. Jerald's ears could hear the linsang's breathing, and there was a hint of laughter underneath it. It sickened him all the worse.
There was no will to resist. There was a drive to resist, and desire to, but no will. The more that Memphis fought Harrington, the worse he felt. He'd just bear it, and eventually, it would be over. After it was over, he could forget all about it, and the same would go away. He closed his eyes tight, and tried to lull himself into a stupor.
It worked, but only for a few moments. His concentration was broken when he felt something warm and sticky spill across the back of his tongue. More of it kept coming, and its taste and smell permeated his muzzle. His first reaction was to try to swallow, to prevent from choking or gagging. Another painful slideshow of memories flashed by, like it was projecting on the backs of Jerald's eyelids. It made him feel so awful that he cried out.
When he did that, his jaw dropped down and he yanked his head back, and he had enough strength in his neck and shoulders to tear free of the smaller linsang's hold. More of the sticky fluid kept on spraying out, splattering once at the wolf's muzzle before the rest of it emptied out onto his shirt, tie, and slacks. It felt very warm, but it began to cool off quickly, leaving his soaked fur and clothing feeling oddly clammy.
Harrington bore a vicious snarl. "Oh, now look at what you did!" he snapped, lunging forward and grabbing onto Memphis' shoulders. The wolf tried to yelp, but one of the linsang's hands grabbed his throat. "Just look at yourself! You've gotten your nice clothes all dirty and messy, and somebody's going to have to get them clean. Did you even think about that, you idiot?"
The words stung Jerald's brain more than the grip at his throat did. He wanted to cry some more, but whatever bravery he still had left was strong enough to keep him together. He stared back into the linsang's eyes, frozen, unable to tear away from the blue hypnotic gaze that made his world feel so fuzzy.
Fuzziness broke away and was replaced by the peculiar sensation of the linsang's other hand wrapped around his erection. He didn't want to feel good, though. The pleasant feeling it gave him was such a terrible contrast to his fear and shame that it only made things worse. And, just to add injury to insult, Harrington looked awfully upset with him. "Do you want to know what it feels like to have someone else make a mess of your things, Jerry?" he asked, blood forming at the corner of his lip as he bit it back with his teeth. His hand closed down more firmly and stroked faster. "Do you want to know what it feels like to have all of your trouble go unappreciated?"
Close your eyes, Jerald thought, but he didn't. Close your eyes and stop looking at him, and it can stop. His thoughts refused to turn into words or actions. He remained helplessly pinned to the chair as the linsang jerked him off, making him squirm with pleasure even as his brain tried to keep him petrified with fear. His mouth opened to make a sound, and it actually surprised him when it came out as one of pain instead of something else.
The sound in his throat died abruptly, as Harrington's claws pinched into the sides of the sensitive flesh of the wolf's neck. The primal urge to preserve his own life took over, and he went quiet. "What's the matter, kiddo?" the linsang growled, breaking skin with the sharp tips of his claws. "You said this felt good, didn't you? You told your Uncle Auri that you'd be nice and quiet and that you'd trust me. So just fucking stay quiet, okay?"
Jerald found his hips jerking and straining upward against Harrington's hand. He tried so hard to stop, and tried so hard to just be numb and not feel anything, but the stimulation just got worse and worse. Deep inside of him, a surreal sensation was building up, like a sense of impending doom that he knew he couldn't stop, knew that he wouldn't want to stop, but that he was far too horrified to see through to its natural conclusion.
He just didn't have a hope of understanding what was going on, and nothing would let his mind slow down for long enough to think of a way to help himself.
The linsang's claws drew more blood from the side of Jerald's neck as they tensed inward some more, brought on by the wolf's heavy shuddering as he came all over himself. He kept spurting so hard and wildly, adding to the wet, gooey mess that had already been made. The full-body sensation reached his brain, and the pleasure that associated itself with the terror that he felt was crippling.
Harrington jumped out of Memphis' lap and stood to his feet. He snapped his fingers, and with that sharp, clear sound, the wolf's brain returned to normal. His full faculties were in place once more, and he remained paralyzed with fear as he looked back into the linsang's face, in stark disbelief and doubt as to just who--what--he actually was.
The linsang pulled his hand back and slapped Jerald hard across the face. Even so, the wolf was a spineless sack of jelly, now, soaking in the meaning of true dread as those evil eyes glared down at him. The blue glow got brighter, then dimmed again, but didn't go away, and the linsang took a series of deep, heavy breaths as a momentary look of bliss crossed his face. That, too, disappeared, replaced again by the cruel grimace and anger from before.
"You so much touch a single fucking hair on the heads of any of your kids ever again, and I'll find you. You know I'll fucking find you, don't you?" Jerald knew enough to know that the linsang wanted to see him nod, and so he did. "Good. Keep your money. I'm taking my deal elsewhere."
Memphis watched, dumbstruck, as Harrington zipped up and began to walk away. The linsang got three steps, stopped, and then turned around. "On second thought... no. Fuck you." He snatched the stacks of bills from Memphis' desk, grabbed his tiny briefcase from the floor, and then stormed out of the office.
The wolf was left alone in his chair, soaked and messy and humiliated. His pulse refused to slow down for several minutes. He was afraid to even think anything coherent beyond just reciting a little mantra to himself in the form of a promise to do exactly as the linsang had said. Hopefully, by the time Lilah found him in here, he'd have gotten enough willpower to get out of his chair, go in back, and change his clothes. For the time being, though, he wasn't going to hope for anything much.