I don't know how this series slipped past being sent out to Literotica when first written, but it did. And so under the philosophy better late than never, I offer it up to my readers now. Abraham Jennings is one of my favorite characters and perhaps I let him go to soon. Well, I'll let you be the judge of that. There are 5 chapters in all. Enjoy ... PW
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Abraham Jennings held the chair in the face of the Bengal tiger, forcing it to retreat to its corner stool. The big cat had not misbehaved; a foolish handler had inadvertently stepped into its territory leading the cat to think he was encroaching on its meal of the day. It had reacted by attacking the handler and mauling him, although not all that badly, for Jennings had seen it coming and intervened before serious damage was done.
Other handlers dragged the injured attendant from the tiger's cage, and Jennings spoke softly to the big cat, calming it down by stepping to one side and opening a clear path from the food source to the cat itself.
Seeing this opening apparently mollified the Tiger as it hopped up on the stool and waved a paw lazily at Jennings as if to say, "It was nothing really. But he did seem to want my food."
Jennings looked around him, saw no other threat and gracefully exited the cage, locking it after him. "Leave the cat alone for at least twenty minutes," he said to the handlers not assisting the injured man. "Has anyone called 911?"
"Yes," replied a gray-haired man in his late fifties. "They should be here within five minutes."
"Is he bleeding badly?"
"Not so I can tell, Mr. Jennings. He seems more embarrassed than anything else."
"Don't listen to him," Jennings shot back, "Check him out. The cat might have gotten an artery when it clawed him."
The gray-haired man and a younger woman leaned over the injured man and began performing a cursory inspection as the siren of an approaching ambulance was heard approaching.
The moment the paramedics rushed into the building, Jennings left it, and went to his RV in the parking lot, tore off his clothing and took a shower.
He would be late for the interview that was certain. But it wouldn't matter in the end. He was needed, and that made things easier all around.
The interview was a mere formality. It involved Jennings providing his expertise in handling tigers to the movie industry. A bunch of wannabe movie producers were thinking about a remake of the Rudyard Kipling book, The Jungle Book, which made great use of wild animals and snakes, but in particular, Bengal tigers. Jennings had already arrived at a figure for his services and would not budge from it.
The meeting lasted twenty-three minutes. They caved on his monetary demands within fifteen; the remaining time was spent on when they would meet again. Jennings sat there while the others frantically used their phones to reschedule non-existing meetings in order to make them all appear to be very busy people. Jennings knew better. They're like putty compared to handling my tigers, he thought as they clamored, one trying to out-shout the others as they punched buttons while playing out the charade of who was more important than the next.
He allowed them to leave, opened his laptop and scanned his e-mail messages. There were only two. The first he deleted without reading. The second was from a young woman with aspirations that coincided with Jennings's other proclivities: In a nutshell, Abraham Jennings trained people as well as wild animals.
The woman had included a picture of herself smiling at the camera, on her knees, in bra and panties, strings of cum across her forehead and cheeks. A second picture followed: In it she was still on all fours, but her rear was to the camera and it was red with welts that Jennings knew had been caused by a heavy leather belt.
She was attractive enough, but this was Los Angeles, home of the stars, where almost everyone was exceptionally good-looking. Abraham Jennings was attractive in his own right; blonde haired, well-built, without the aid of heavy lifting, but of long hours training and playing with the wild cats.
It was the precise way she had worded the e-mail that caught his attention. The words themselves mattered little. It was the conclusion he drew from them that settled matters in his mind as he responded to her message, telling her to meet him in an hour and fifteen minutes and where and how she should present herself to him.
Jennings arrived at the park ten minutes early, found a bench, sat down and waited patiently. The girl appeared exactly on time wearing a pale yellow sundress that barely covered her ass. She wore no bra and her dark hair was parted in the middle and tied off into two pigtails.
The young woman, no older than twenty-one, or two, walked right up to him and said: "Mr. Jennings?"
"What do you want?" He said indifferently.
"What do you think I want, Mr. Jennings?"
"A fast fuck and beating for starters," he said as his eyes closed to snake-like slits.
"You're a mind-reader, aren't you, Mr. Tiger man," she said moving closer and pressing her chest against his then stood up on her toes and gave him a peck on the cheek. "Wanna start in the restrooms?"
"You're a real slut aren't you?"
"That's me, but I think you can help me become something else. Something better. Can you?"
"That remains to be seen."
"Don't you wanna know my name?"
"I could care less. I probably won't see you again anyway."
"But if there is another... session, my name is Aggie. Aggie DeMarco."
"Get your sorry ass into the restroom without causing a commotion.
Aggie impressed him by being very careful in her approach to the restroom. She circled it, looking for possible police decoys, and other potential problems. Finding none, she entered the men's restroom, looked in each and every booth before peeking out and giving Jennings the OK sign.
He was even more apprehensive in his approach than Aggie had been. It took him a full five minutes to circle the restroom and reconnoiter the area much the same way in which he had while on patrols while in the military some years earlier.
Once inside, he took her by the arm and steered her into the farthest booth from the entrance. She fell to her knees in front of the commode, turned to look back at him.
"Like my ass?' she said sticking it out invitingly.
Jennings responded by smacking her rump as hard as he could, getting a delighted shriek from Aggie. He flipped the yellow sundress up and saw she was wearing a yellow thong that matched the sundress.
"Mmmm," she murmured into the toilet, "Good start."
He noticed she was rubbing her pussy, while using the other hand to support herself on the toilet. He had his belt off by then, and waving his arm, brought the thick leather down across her back. THWACK!
Aggie had not expected it and screamed from the unexpected pain.
"What, you thought I'd stick with your ass? Not on your life. I do the unexpected, cunt. That's how I made my reputation."
She was quietly sobbing when he hit her with the belt again. THWACK! This time it was across the middle of her ass, raising an immediate red welt on both asscheeks. Aggie lost her balance and her face dropped into the commode, her chin actually dipped into the fetid water.
"Arghh!"
"Fuck you, cunt! You're lucky I don't make you drink it."
"Nobody's flushed this thing in ages," Aggie squawked.
"Sure they have. I don't see any shit floating in there."
THWACK! THWACK! THWACK!
He struck at her ass again, hitting each cheek a second time with the belt. The third strike hit her poorly covered pussy. The sudden overpowering rush of pain caused Aggie to react by bringing her knees up toward her chin and consequently and into the porcelain base of the toilet, badly bruising each knee.
She was sobbing silently when he pulled her to her feet and roughly shoved her toward the restroom's only exit. Aggie managed to keep her feet under her and didn't fall as she stumbled into the fresh air.
"Ready for your first session, Aggie my cunt?"
"Yes, sir, Mr. Jennings," she replied meekly.
"My truck is to your left. Get in it."
"Yes, Mr. Jennings... um, my car?"
