To Protect And Serve Ch 02

Proofread by FernieLyn

This story is a bit wordy and fairly long, so if you are looking for immediate gratification, you might want to look elsewhere.

The following story is a work of fiction. Any resemblance between these characters and events and any real person or events is strictly coincidental . . . and pretty darn impressive seeing as it is a science fiction story. Do not reproduce or copy this story without the consent of the author.

This story is based in an alternative universe, where history took a different course than the one we are used to. In this world, the creatures which we now believe to be legends have walked alongside man for the duration of our existence. Vampires, werewolves, wizards, witches, sorcerers, and a host of other beings share our world.

The following story contains, in one chapter or another, lesbian, homosexual, heterosexual, anal, group, sci-fi/fantasy, non-human, and BDSM sexual activity. There may be some erotic horror in there somewhere as well, but I haven't made up my mind.

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'Okay,' Shamira thought as she prepared to face a brave new day, 'I need to get some cotton sheets. This silk stuff really isn't that comfortable.' Earlier that night (or morning), she had done things that she never would have imagined herself doing. She had been chained up, physically manhandled, had hot wax tripped all over her, and had been violated in every orifice that she could think of.

The man who had made Shamira a vampire, one Shane Stapleton, had introduced her to a world that had only existed in her fantasies before. He had told her to call herself a whore, and she had. She had enjoyed it. She had enjoyed all of it. Now, she was wondering what the hell she'd done.

After a set of mind-blowing orgasms and wild sensations, Shane had unchained her and brought her back to her bedroom. Shane always slept, and in reality slept, alone as a security precaution. He was an important vamp and the head of this house, so she understood the precautions. But waking up alone made her think. Was she really ready for this? Yet every time she thought about those moments where she had become an item of sexual pleasure, it made her feel warm inside. So much so that she wanted to touch herself in --

"Buyer's remorse?" came a soft voice next to her.

Shamira's eyes shot open and she sat up rapidly in bed. Clara Yellowtail was lying in bed right next to her. "What the heck --"

"I don't think so," came a sexy Latin voice behind her. "She smells horny."

"Gaugh!" Shamira jumped out of bed completely nude. Raul was lying on the other side of the bed, looking very nice. "What are you two doing in here?"

Clara gave her a wicked grin. "Word's already out about what happened with Shane last night, and you've got the collar on."

Shamira had forgotten about the collar. For something made of iron, it seemed surprisingly non-intrusive. "I . . . uhm . . . yeah." 'Crap,' she thought. 'Clara is a domme.' "I'm sorry . . . Mistress --"

Clara laughed. "We're going to have to work on your reflexes," she said, clambering out of bed. She was just as nude as Shamira was, and Shamira found herself checking out that lithe, soft, beautiful form. Clara continued. "But Shane said that everyone is to give you breathing room today until after midnight meal. First, he wants you to start researching magical creatures, bring yourself up to speed on the sorts of things you'll be dealing with. Renata will give you the codes so you can access the server and Mysti-pedia."

"Mysti-pedia?" Shamira asked. "You're kidding, right?"

"Nope. It's had other names of course, but when the magical community met the web and started translating the old documents and texts into digital formats, they changed the name. Anyway, it'll have all the data you need. Also, Shane wanted to give you an evening to relax and make sure you didn't have any regrets. You don't, do you?"

Shamira looked at her feet. "I . . . no." Straightening her shoulders, she reiterated, "No. I guess, it was just a big step. I can't really believe I actually did it." She cocked her head. "Why exactly are you in my bed? And him? Not that I'm not pleased to see you, Raul."

"No sweat. Damn," he said, looking her over, "I can see why everyone's been so gung-ho to claim some time with you."

"No they . . . they're not really . . . they have?"

Clara grinned. "Oh yes," she said. "In answer to your question," she purred, tracing a finger across Shamira's collarbone, "I'm a dominant. I can wake up with any sub that isn't already claimed." She tried to pout, albeit unsuccessfully. "But today, I just thought you might like to have a friendly face when you woke up. Big changes shouldn't happen alone, and I know Shane's policy about sleeping alone. He let me know what happened after putting you to bed. I was teaching this young wolf here," she said, pointing at Raul, "some new tricks, so we finished up and I brought him with me. So here we are," she said, her fingers drifting down to Shamira's suddenly erect nipple, "naked and with some time to kill --"

"Except," Shamira started, her body betraying any attempts to control it, "that Shane wants me to . . . uhm . . . research?" she said.

"Yessssss." Clara was only half-listening as her fingers made their way down that rock-hard abdomen.

"Mistress Clara," Raul said, trying not to smirk, "Shane's instructions --"

"I'm well aware of Shane's instructions," she replied, then grinned at Shamira. "I'll deal with my insolent pup in a moment," she cooed. "Maybe even in YOUR bed," she said to the other woman. "But first --" She went over to the intercom and summoned Monique, who showed up in record time with a measuring tape. She examined every inch of Shamira, including some "places" that seemed irrelevant. "For your uniforms," Clara explained. By the time Monique was done and vacated the room, Clara had retrieved a bag from the hallway. "Presents for you!"

Shamira took the bag and looked inside. A brand new Alienware laptop!

"Reaper said that if you're a gamer then that's the kind you'd want."

"Sweet! A wallet?" she said, pulling out a svelte little black leather wallet. It came complete with three credit cards, a gun license, and a new driver's license. "Shamira Stapleton?" she asked.

"Yeah, it makes it easier on the paperwork. You know we get medical and dental, right?" Clara's face remained stoic for a few minutes, then she broke out laughing when Shamira looked perplexed. "Just kidding. But you do have a new history, including a college degree, work history, etc. Just in case you get questioned by authorities."

"Crap!" Shamira said. "What if it's someone I know?"

"One, I doubt any of those guys would recognize the new, more confident, highly sexual babe that is you. Two, people will laugh it off as déjà vu." She patted Shamira on the ass. "Now get dressed, according to Shane's instructions. No more sweats." She bit her bottom lip. "Something with a thong. Unless you want to wander around naked."

Shamira grumbled as she pulled on some black boy short panties, blue jeans too tight and too low-riding to be decent, and a black tube top. Then she noticed three boxes in her closet that hadn't been there yesterday. "My boots!" Shane had apparently ordered her two pairs past the ones she had asked for. Custom-made leather boots that felt like a dream. Rugged, stylish, and far too comfortable.

"Oh, I got you one more thing," Clara said, almost sounding a little nervous. She pulled another box out from the top of the closet. "I knew you said you used to have a lucky hat," she continued. "Maybe this one will be lucky too."

It was gorgeous in Shamira's eyes. It was a black leather cowboy hat with a laced leather band with concho accents and tails, and a gold center concho with some writing on the front. It read, "Justice without force is powerless; force without justice is tyrannical."

"Shane thought you'd like the inscription."

Shamira put the hat on, and it fit as well as everything else. Clara put a hand on her comrade's shoulder and turned her to face a mirror. Shamira had never seen that woman before. The clothes showed off the body, and the body looked good. The boots and the hat . . . 'Damn, I look good!' she thought, actually turning a bit to get a better look at her ass. 'Damn good!' The hungry look on Clara's face showed that the girl was in complete agreement.

"You're off the sexual clock until midnight," the smaller woman said, "so let's go out this evening. Grab dinner out. What do you think?"

"I think I know just the place," Shamira replied. She smiled at her friend. "See you at nine or so?" Then she went off to the lounge with her new laptop, ready to do some research while Clara played with Raul in Shamira's bed.

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That night . . .

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"So what is this place?" Clara asked as they walked into a bar just a block off of Marietta Square. It had an Irish folk band playing in one corner, and there were a bunch of tables lined up next to each other.

"McCarens," Shamira replied, looking around. "They've got good fries, and speed dating on Saturday night."

Clara, Henry, and Raul all stopped and looked at her. "Speed dating?"

"Hey, I was here a year ago and . . . and I left without any numbers," she said with a growl. "I want to see if this vampire mojo actually works."

Henry raised his hand as if he was going to say something, but Clara waved him off. They'd let Shamira do this her way.

They sat down and waited for things to start. "So, you do this sort of thing a lot?"

She shrugged. "I did, but I realized it didn't seem to work for me."

"So what'd you do with your free time?" Raul asked.

"I dunno. Did a lot of hiking and backpacking. North Georgia is great for that sort of thing."

"Have you been up near Ellijay? It's gorgeous up there this time of year. Water ban has sucked though. No campfires," Clara said.

"You . . . camp?"

Clara looked vexed. "Why does this surprise you?"

"You just don't really look like a camper. Too damn pretty and --"

"You'd best quit while you're ahead," Henry chuckled. Clara was clenching her silverware so tightly that she'd bent her knife.

"Making judgments about my abilities? Based on my appearance?"

"No!" Shamira replied. Then she paused. Clara was dressed in a fashionable and far-too-short skirt and a gorgeous silk blouse tied off in a knot just below her bustline. While definitely athletic, her skin was smooth and not defined and . . . "Yeah. I guess I was. Forgive me?" Shamira tried the pout thing with her lip and failed miserably. But she did get a reaction.

"Forgiven," Clara said. Then she grabbed Shamira's collar, pulled her close, and laid a kiss on her that Shamira would probably never forget. Shane's kiss the morning before had been about power, but Clara's was much more about finesse. Her tongue was so soft and so nimble and it felt like it was going to crawl all the way into Shamira's being and buy property. Her lips were so damn soft and warm and damn inviting, and then they were gone.

"Wuh . . . what was that for?" Shamira muttered. That had been a real kiss, with a woman, and Shamira realized she'd been kissing right back.

"Admitting you're not perfect," Clara said smoothly. "I was beginning to wonder."

"Trust me, I'm far from perfect."

Clara looked at her companion through hazy, lusty, half-closed eyes and said, "We'll see later tonight."

Shamira gulped. "We will?"

"Oh yes." Clara leaned back and just smiled.

"What's going on?" she asked to Henry who was grinning like a Cheshire cat.

"Shane gave ya until after midnight lunch as a freebie. Who do you think already has you claimed before the second lunch is over?" he explained.

Shamira's eyes slowly moved back over to Clara, whose face had gone from soft to sinister in a heartbeat. "Oh yes," she said, leaning forward and placing her head next to Shamira's. "Tonight, I'm busting your sapphic cherry wide open," she murmured, then nibbled on the other woman's ear. Then she kissed Shamira's neck.

"I've been so very, very patient, and I made all the other girls promise not to touch you until I've had an opportunity, and I'm going to make the most of that opportunity for hours," she kissed Shamira's neck, "and hours," followed by another kiss on the lips that didn't last nearly long enough, "and hours."

Shamira had lost the ability to speak, or to even think reasonably coherently. Her mouth remembered the small taste she had just gotten, and it craved more, needed more.

Then "dominant" Clara went away again and "normal" Clara came back. "We need to go hiking sometime," she said. "Hey, once the house is stronger, we'll take a summer off and hike the Appalachian Trail. How's that sound?"

Shamira's lips started to move, but words or even sound were strangely absent.

"You broke her," Raul said.

"Not yet," Clara said slyly. Then more seriously, "Shamira, you've stepped one foot into our world, but we don't live there all the time. We have lives outside the house, and you will too. Maybe not anytime soon, at least not until we get our numbers up --"

"Okay ladies and gentlemen," started a gangly man who appeared to be in charge, "let's get in our places. Men on that side and women on this side. You'll have five minutes with each participant --"

"Listen, you guys don't have to stick around," Shamira said.

"Oh yes we do," Henry said, eyeing some of the women present.

"It'll be fun!" Clara added.

At five minutes per person, the interviews were surprisingly drab for Shamira. The last time she'd tried this, she had tried so hard to sympathize with every guy she spoke to and tried to coax their life stories out of them. But now they seemed so . . . boring. She noticed that her comrades were having a great time though. Apparently flirting was a magical skill. She sighed. She probably wouldn't get any numbers tonight after all. 'I'm just not . . . likable. What am I even doing here?'

Everyone finally got to visit with everyone else and then filled out their cards. Did you like this person or not? Shamira tried to be kind, but only thought two or three guys would even be interesting enough to have coffee with, if she ever actually wanted to. The host would contact them later with any offers.

It was obvious that several ladies wanted to "talk" to Raul and Henry, and an equal number of men were trying to catch Clara's eye. Shamira had been sitting closest to the door, so she just stepped outside. Getting fresh air, or at least that's what she told herself. She walked out towards the center of the square, moving her mind back to Shane's business. At least that she might be good at.

She had spent all afternoon checking out Mysti-pedia and other files that Shane had acquired over the years. The fairies, weres, and vampires were her first line of inquiry, then the drug known as morning star. She knew she was supposed to be simply expanding her knowledge base, but Shamira's mind always had to have a direction. After seeing those videos of what happened in a morning star bleeding house, she had made it her first mission as Shane's new vampire enforcer to hunt these guys down.

"There you are," Clara said, walking down a path from the bar to the center of the square. She looked so good, it just wasn't fair. "Why'd you take off? This was your idea."

Shamira shrugged. She knew how Clara would respond to her sitting around feeling sorry for herself. "Just thought it would be different this time."

Clara sat down next to her. "Different how?"

"That the whole vampire mojo might actually make people notice me. I guess I'm just as attractive as I ever was." She closed her eyes.

"You are," Clara said, watching Shamira's eyes open again. "What? Expect me to feel sorry for you? First, you don't get the ability to turn on the pheromones like you've seen in movies until you're a full vamp, which means for you it'll be another two centuries. Two, I looked at the host's score card, and every guy you talked to say 'yes' to you."

"What? No one said anything --"

"Because you left!" Clara said, throwing up her hands in exasperation. "You're so bound and determined to believe that no one is going to accept you that you walk away before anyone can. Hell, Shane had to chase you down to convince you to come back to us. We HAVE accepted you Shamira." She gripped the muscular woman's hand. "I'm looking forward to having you around," she said warmly.

Then without warning, she kissed Shamira again, just as hot and heavy as she had in the bar. Suddenly Shamira was wondering if she needed to add getting laid in Marietta Square as a fantasy to the list that Shane had begun to compile. "That's not all I'm looking forward to," Clara said when she finally, reluctantly, released Shamira's mouth.

"How do you do that?" Shamira whispered. "It's just one minute you're just a beautiful girl acting like my friend, then you turn on that --" She waved her hands, unable to come up with a word or phrase that fit.

"I'm not 'acting' like a friend," Clara said, partly offended. "I AM your friend. Everyone in the house likes and/or respects each other, otherwise it wouldn't work. Shane's careful about keeping people around him that he can trust. And as I told you, it's no mojo. I just enjoy what . . . and who . . . I do. Problem with getting brought over as a teenager is that you're pretty much perpetually horny."

Shamira snickered. "Wait, a teenager?!"

Clara grinned. "Shane brought me over when I was eighteen. That was sixty-two years ago. My ID always says that I'm twenty-one. We tried going older than that once, but no one bought it."

"I can see why," Shamira said, looking somewhat hungrily over that nubile young-looking body so close to her own.

"I'm eighty years old and it's a pain in the ass for me to rent a car for crying out loud!" Clara looked so miffed that it took all of Shamira's control to avoid laughing. "I mean, try going to a Falcons game and ordering a beer when you look like this. Every time, it's a friggin' hassle!"

"You like football?"

"Who doesn't?"

Shamira smiled. "Okay, now I KNOW you're too good to be true."

Clara planted another kiss, lighter and more friendly, but still really damn hot. "I know. Wait until sunrise, and you'll have found out how good I can be."

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At dinner . . .

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Shamira was a little alarmed at what she was seeing. She had been getting ready to enjoy a nice medium-rare NY strip steak when Shane's dinner had arrived. And by dinner, he meant the wife of a district appeals court judge. She was a woman who was still quite comely in her mid forties, with the body of someone who had worked long and hard to keep from losing her youthful figure. It had worked.

She seemed to know everyone at the table except Shamira, whom she greeted warmly. Then she had straddled Shane's lap and he had bitten into her neck. The rest of the table just grinned and went back to eating. Mrs. Tabitha Grunholdt, the lady in question, was grinding against Shane's lap as he drank from her neck.

"She's something, isn't she?" Renata asked. The werejaguar leaned in and whispered, "She and her husband have an open relationship. Not surprising since he's a closet homosexual AND a Republican. She was able to get her kicks however she wanted as long as it didn't go public. Shamira wondered if he would say the same if he actually knew how she got off.

"So is she --"

"A sub? Oh yeah. Shane will take her back and keep her entertained for the rest of the evening. If you find a good donor, it helps to keep them happy. Or so I hear."

"Right. You're a were, so no need for donors." Shamira was almost in awe. The woman with her hair up in a conservative bun and her nicely proportional figure contained in a thousand-dollar dress suit was riding Shane like a bicycle as he consumed her blood, and she didn't seem at all embarrassed by it.