Werewulf Journals 3: Hungry Pleasures (5 page)

Werewulf Journals 3: Hungry Pleasures

21

Setting the Table

Three weeks later

“On behalf of Orloffberg Enterprises and as your acting Alpha, I’d like to welcome you all to Sated Pleasures. The first thing I want to impress upon you as training staff is the importance of maintaining an air of support and compassion. You will never use a derogatory term to describe our clients’ bodies and I’d better not ever hear any ‘fat’ jokes among the staff. Certainly, never in the hearing of our clients. Such infractions will be cause for instant discipline.”

The bevy of beautiful men nodded in unison. A few shuffled their feet and exchanged

sly glances, refusing to meet his gaze. Those he noted, memorizing their faces. He’d get their names and make a more comprehensive scrutiny of their dossiers. They might need a show of force to discourage them from bucking his authority.

“The pilot group is comprised completely of women. We’ll use the data from this first session as statistics for our brochures. Remember, they are coming to us for help. Most will be suffering low self-esteem garnered from a lifetime of insults and hurts dealt by an unfeeling world. If we perform our duties correctly, we will bolster their self-image even when we must subject them to the various punishment modalities.”

Pavel paced up and down the row of model-quality men, all finely muscled and

handsome specimens. He had to admit he’d doubted Rickard’s wild idea of using adolescent pack males at first. Now, he conceded it made sense because the young randy wulves rarely got a chance at female flesh due to the shortage of pack women.

Besides, his kind actually liked women with some flesh to them. In fact, they adored

them -- the more flesh the better. Old, young, black, white and everything in between, wulves measured their women’s beauty by their abundant curves and their ability to survive 22 Camille Anthony

hardship conditions. It was a proven fact a female with extra pounds was more equipped to survive the hard fucking a wulf in his prime fighting form preferred.

He knew the youngsters were also motivated by the obscene amount of money they

were being paid, the chance to get out from under their tradition-bound Alpha Primes, and by the opportunities to have copious sex and mete out punishment. There was a little sadistic Dom in every wulf.

“Just because these ladies have signed release papers and affidavits of voluntary

participation does not give us the freedom to brutalize or mistreat them. You must at all times remember these are humans, terribly fragile, weak, and vulnerable in comparison to us.

“That said, no punishment will take place without a witness present.” He paused and

scrutinized each man closely. “Gentlemen, I want strict records kept. From the day a client steps onto our property, I want a complete journal on each woman. You are to keep track of exactly how much they weigh; what their goal is; what our doctor’s recommendations for them are -- the whole works. Yes?” He acknowledged a raised hand.

“Sir, I understood we were to have only one client assigned to us. Now I am hearing we will be working with more than one. Why is that?”

“Good question.” Pavel nodded at the man. “Rogers, isn’t it?”

“Yes, sir, Brandon Rogers, from the Northwestern America pack.”

“Well, Brandon, this program involves an intensive, 24/7 program regime that requires constant supervision and interaction with the client. We wulves can endure long hours awake; however, even we must sleep at times. You are entitled to time off, as well. I have made a roster, dividing all of you into teams of three. You and each of your team members will be on the clock twelve hours a day for three days. A full day off, on call for emergencies only, will follow every third day of work once the rotating schedule begins. You will draw numbers or go according to pack standing to determine who takes which days off. After that, you may switch among yourselves at will as long as your clients are covered.”

The majority murmured their agreement with the plans, exchanging pleased glances

with each other as they realized they would be sharing their workloads.

“I also want to reiterate the importance of not revealing our uniqueness with our clients. I know your alphas have instructed you well and if your pack teachers are anything like mine were, secrecy was beaten into your hides along with the lessons.”

The men howled with laughter.

Pavel held up his hand for silence. “The humans must not know we are different. Be

aware of your conversations at all times. Not only about our not being Earthlings, but also about where this retreat is located. While none of the clients know the location of this spa, and therefore cannot compromise our position even inadvertently, you should be very

Werewulf Journals 3: Hungry Pleasures

23

careful not to share even so much as another client’s last name with anyone. All here will go by first name only, and that includes staff.”

Pavel met and held each man’s gaze before moving on to the next point. “I cannot

stress enough the importance of how you are to treat your charges. Our success depends on strict adherence to the program guidelines. Maintaining the client’s anonymity is tantamount to gaining their faith and trust. Some of these women are very highly placed in society. They need the confidence of knowing nothing taking place here will ever be revealed elsewhere.”

“Sir, what if we recognize someone?”

“Then you pretend you do not. You keep it to yourself, and that means not sharing the information even with other staff. If you have a problem with that, come see me. I’m willing to make shifts in the roster and reassign you to another client.”

Pavel picked up a thick stack of papers and began calling off the name of each

individual written across the top. He passed them the envelope, explaining, “This is your homework. Read the information carefully and memorize most of it. You’ll find an envelope stapled to the last page. Inside are four keys: the key to your room, the universal key to all non-restricted areas of the resort, the key to your personal client’s room, and the key to the elevator that will take you to the punishment rooms.

“The punishment suites are located on the lowest level of the compound, and the

elevator will not go to that floor unless the key is inserted and turned. This ensures that no client wanders down accidentally.” He paused and gave each staff a stern look. “I would be very unhappy if that should happen. It would mean a client not only had no supervision, but they somehow got possession of your key.”

“What happens if we lose our keys?”

“Hope you don’t. They are monstrously expensive and the replacement will come out

of your paycheck. There is only one duplicate key each, for your personal room and your client’s room. I have them securely locked away in my office complex. If necessary, I can replace them once. The master keys have no duplications -- you should be able to figure out why that was set up this way. You should never give the key to your client’s room to anyone except the person scheduled to relieve you while you are on break.”

Handing the last packet to a blond giant who looked a lot like a younger, more

handsome Fabio, he turned to face the room. Smiling, he waved toward the door that had just opened behind him, revealing servers dressed in the uniform of a famous catering service swarming around a huge center table loaded down with exotic foods, drinks, and platters overflowing with bloody rare meats.

“This evening, I’ve arranged a ‘get acquainted’ party for us. You all come from different packs, some of which haven’t interacted for centuries. Please, take this time to mingle and get to know one another. I foresee times in the future when you will need to call upon each other for assistance and it will be much easier if you have bonded in some way. Tonight there will be no humans among us and you are free to be as natural as you like. Some of you 24 Camille Anthony

are used to fucking those lower in rank. Remember that here at Sated Pleasures the only one holding pack rank is me. There are to be no forced matings. If a wulf says no, take him at his word.”

The males looked at each other, some smiling, others bristling at the heated looks

coming their way. Obviously, there’d been some rank posturing already. Glad he’d nipped that in the bud, Pavel picked up a haunch of bloody steak. His fangs sank into the meat, ripping a large segment off. Once he’d eaten, those lower in status to him could partake.

Finished with the piece, he drank a glass of water, wiped his mouth with a napkin and smiled at his staff. “One more thing…no shifting or feats of inhuman strength are to be witnessed by non-pack staff.” He didn’t need to explain how they’d know which staff to avoid. All wulves identified pack -- family -- with just a whiff. Humans, in contrast, smelled like…food.

“And sure as hell, there will be no nibbling on any of the humans. If you need

unrefined food, there’s plenty of wild game on the island. See me. I’ll schedule shifting times and places.”

There were a few snickers among the men. “I heard they taste like chicken.”

Pavel noted the heckler. It was one of the males who’d earlier evaded his eyes. “Joking about it is one thing…acting out the joke is another matter entirely. All who haven’t yet done so must come forward and take oath under me. If you have a problem with that, you’re welcome to leave. Your Alphas informed me they have made the situation clear and all of you are here voluntarily.”

A burst of nods acknowledged his words.

“Good. Then we should have no problems. But bear in mind, I will tolerate no deviance or rebellion. I am Prime Alpha of this sector and will respond with terminal force to all challenges. I will personally disembowel the wulf that goes against my orders. No second chances, no excuses.”

The murmuring ceased. He thought it would.

“Okay, lecture over. Let’s have a howling good time.”

After the cheers died down, Pavel stood near the door and shook the hand of each male trooping past, giving them personal attention and a few words of welcome. Those who

hadn’t done so before knelt and bared their throats, giving their word to accept his

dominance and commands.

Once everyone was seated, Pavel picked up his filled wine glass and lifted it high. “A toast -- to Sated Pleasures! May this project be a losing success!”

“To Sated Pleasures!”

“And to all of you -- your hard work will be the deciding factor in making this endeavor rewarding.”

“To us!”

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25

Several men laughed out loud. Pavel chuckled, but refrained from pointing out the

enthusiastic youngster’s error over toasting himself. “Orientation will continue tomorrow morning at nine a.m., sharp. Please be punctual. For tonight, enjoy yourselves, but also use this time to identify your teammates. The list is posted on the employee bulletin board one level down in the staff break rooms. Should any teams be unworkable, now is the time to tell me. After tonight, it’s set in stone, people.

“We have one week left before the ladies begin arriving. Gentlemen, they will come to us ducklings, but when we release them, they will be swans.”

26 Camille Anthony

Pound Cake and a Little Honey

Kaila groaned and rolled over on her side, trying to ease her aching belly. Like her

shame, the pain wouldn’t go away, no matter which way she tossed and turned.

Opening swollen eyes, she peeked from under her sodden pillow and gasped in horror

at the debris and trash scattered all over her bed and about the room. A fist squeezing her heart, she gazed about her sunny bedroom, dismayed at the culinary chaos all about her.

An empty Sara Lee Pound Cake box listed drunkenly in the middle of discarded candy

wrappers; its sodden state due to the leaking soda bottle propped on its lid. Burger King wasn’t the only fast food restaurant represented. Crumpled foil papers and dried out Chinese noodles, the empty baskets that once housed Wendy’s baked potatoes littered the carpet and side tables, testifying the pound cake wasn’t the only thing causing her upset stomach.

Glaring over at the empty box Kaila groaned aloud and closed her eyes, shutting out

the scene of gluttony. An entire pound cake! I can’t believe I ate the whole thing!

She hated her sick inability to control her gorging. At this rate, she’d never have a true love-interest, not if she continued down the path she was on. How could she ever hope to attract and keep a hot, sexy dude like that European guy she’d fallen on at the restaurant almost a month ago? What had his name been? Pavel! Yes, that was it. Like he or anyone else wanted to be saddled with a woman trying to eat herself to death -- a woman like her. Hell, I don’t want to be saddled with me and I am me!

Tears leaked from beneath her puffy lids as she huddled under the covers, momentarily giving way to deep dejection. This unconscious gorging was happening more and more often, despite the new experimental drugs the therapist had her trying.

She worried because these bouts of deep depression left her disconnected to the world around her, threatened to bury her -- made her contemplate self-mutilation on the good days and suicide on the worst ones.

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Most days, she got along fine, but her problem wasn’t most days, it was the lonely

nights.

Someone had told her depression was anger turned inward and she guessed that could

be true because some days she really hated herself. But what frightened her most were the times she couldn’t work up the energy to care. Lately, her chosen form of self-mutilation was binge eating.

There was no way to know what she’d consumed or done to herself during this last

bout of depression, but it was time for her to stop hiding and find out.

Throwing back the covers, she dragged herself from the bed, staggered to the

bathroom, and stripped out of her crumpled, smelly clothes. There wasn’t any blood under her nails, but that didn’t mean anything. While mired in one of these fugues, she often lost large chunks of time. She could have cleaned her hands and eradicated any evidence of self abuse.