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Dinner and a Pet (LustfulSins&Mutt)

LustfulSins

LustfulSins

Sin City Citizen
Joined
Mar 7, 2020
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Vampires have successfully taken over the world. Through a mix of increasing numbers beyond the abilities of hunters to contain, and enslaving earth's other numerous species, both human and supernatural, vampires have fully reached the top of the food chain. Small groups of still free species live in hiding, fearful to be caught. Most who are become the property and food supply to the vampires. Most vampires keep their own pets to feed from whenever they please. Some simply go to 'feeding stations', shelters of sorts where various rapidly healing species are kept on rotation between being food supply and rest.

Sinclair Montorelle is one vampire known to keep his own food supply. Having a preference to werewolf blood and its almost spicy taste, Sinclair has kept werewolves for the last hundred years, since vampires became the Supreme species. Unfortunately, a member of the coven he had left, or rather abandoned as they out it, burned down his home when he was away for the day. The six werewolves he kept had died in the flames, as he often kept them locked in separate rooms.

Today, Sinclair is searching for a new werewolf. He's been to three 'pet' stores, and found none that strike his fancy. All were either two scrawny or too timid. Si Clair likes a wolf he can be rough with, one he can put in its place; on its knees. While gender doesn't particularly matter, if Sinclair happens to find a male that fits his tastes, all the better.
 
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Duncan's entire world turned upside down the moment the vampires rose up to launch their attack on all of humanity. No one was expecting it, no one saw it coming, and any hope of fight was quashed very quickly. There were no chances for a rebellion, human cities being broken up and destroyed, sending groups to various vampire-controlled areas to be handed out to those who had fought in the war as prizes. Known packs of werewolves were targeted for either immediate extermination or captured to be served as pets for the elites. Those that resisted their fates were often slaughtered unless the warden decided they were a more worthy specimen. Wolves were not trusted to fight in the armies, at least not yet. Their training was not a priority to the vampires, the complaints falling on deaf ears. Those that managed to escape capture or death lived in the shadows, fearing they may be noticed at any moment. It was hardly a life worth living, but those who were free still hoped that a proper rebellion could be established a fightback could occur.

The lone red and brown wolf had waited patiently until the sun went down, and then some. Normally sunlight was their time to do what they needed, the vampires severely weakened with the sun's rays. But that time had long since passed as science developed and new technologies came about. No longer were they hindered by the daylight, they were free to roam whenever and however they chose. But most nights the vampires were partying in their clubs or tending to their slaves. The werewolf felt happy to traverse during the dead of the night, picking up scraps from discarded slave owners and hunting down stray vermin. He was awful skinny and some of his fur had lost its sheen, becoming a more dull color. His will and perseverance still intact, however, and that was what kept him going. What remained of his pack depended on him to bring back news and what little food he could scavenge. He was the only capable one that could venture out into the cities, despite losing a bit of muscle, he was agile and a decent fighter.

Heading down one of the alleys, the giant wolf tried his best to quietly root through the trash, letting his nose sniff out anything that may be of use, his ears constantly twitching and on alert.
 
At their peak at night, vampires see as well in the dark as they do in the light. It's been night for a little over two hours now, and Sinclair has just left the overnight feeding station he'd been forced to attend. He loathes the idea of feeding from a public creature, but even vampires have laws. To allow one's bloodlust and hunger to run out of control creates the opening for dangerous loss of self-awareness. A raging vampire means a trail of death and wasted food supply.

Sinclair turns down the street, tucking his hands into his pockets with a sigh. If only there were more lively werewolves, perhaps he would have found one to suit his tastes. Ah well, perhaps-

Sinclair's thoughts cut off as he passes an alley. He halts immediately, taking a step back and turning his head. From the corner of his eye, he'd seen a large shadow. Now looking directly down the alley, the white haired vampire can clearly see a rather large, albeit skinny, red and brown wolf. It looks to be in rough shape, which means it's a Wanderer, a title given by vampires to lesser species not in captivity. Sinclair smirks, turning and walking down the alley. "Well, well. What have we here? A wanderer not quite cautious enough. And a big one too." Sinclair's voice is not necessarily deep, but it's not high either, a pleasantly rich middle tone
 
Duncan didn't realize he had let his guard down so much when the vampire appeared before him, standing in front of the alleyway, cutting off his means of escape. The werewolf had found a half-eaten chicken and that had stolen all of his attention, his grumbling stomach not leaving room to focus on anything else. He could feel a little of his strength returning to his muscles, but he was still in no condition to fight a fully fed vampire. He wasn't aware of any other escape routes, and that made him curse himself for being so careless. He'd have to take the vampire by surprise, maybe if he rushed the vampire he wouldn't suspect it. The idea was half-baked at most and had a very little success rate but Duncan was unsure of what else his options were. He'd have to play meek at first, display a weakness that would cause him to drop his guard, if only for a moment.

The wolf backed himself farther away, trying to hide better in the shadows. A fight growl came out of his muzzle, making a half-hearted attempt to bare his teeth in defiance. He crouched low, preparing to spring forward to rush past the vampire, but he hoped this gesture showed more submissive than aggressive.
 
Unfortunately for the wolf, Sinclair is well versed in the tricky nature of wolves. He approaches slowly, taking his hands out of his pockets. There's a silver band ring on his left middle finger. Palms toward the wolf, Sinclair gets closer. "Easy now, no sudden moves, and you'll be fine."

Sinclair stops five feet from the cornered wolf. He tilts his head, smiling lightly. The expression doesn't quite meet his silver eyes. "Why don't you come home with me. I'll give you a real meal."
 
If Duncan could laugh in this form he'd damn near fall over from how hard he'd burst. He'd be fine? He'd be given a real meal? Fuck, he'd be the real meal! They were all lies on top of lies, and he wasn't going to end up as some vampires' slave, not after all the work he put into trying to stay alive by himself.

The jig was clearly up, the vampire before him was not stupid and wouldn't fall for any stupid antics. Duncan dropped all pretense then his ears going flat against his head, lips peeled up to show off very sharp and dangerous teeth. He snarled then, muscles bunching as he lept forward, aiming for the shoulder to knock him over to dash around his downed body.
 
The wolf might be fast, but Sinclair is faster. He angles his body to the side, likely making the wolf think he has a chance at escape. Except just as quickly, Sinclair's left hand comes down on the back of the wolf's neck, gripping his scruff. The vampire shoves the wolf down, using his scruff to shake him like a scolded pup.

"That wasn't very nice. Turning down my generous offer." Sinclair sets his left foot on the wolf's back, applying only light pressure. His right hand taps the wolf's muzzle. "Take human form, pup."
 
Boy was he fast! He wasn't exactly sure what to expect, he knew his movement was slow and clunky from malnutrition. He didn't stand a chance but at least he could die in the solace that he went down fighting and didn't surrender to the lure of a lying deal. What he hated more was his ego being bruised, it was very unfortunate how he managed to put himself in this kind of situation. Letting his guard down had been such a mistake.

Duncan thought briefly of resisting, but he determined it wasn't worth the effort. He needed to conserve his strength for the battle ahead. With a huff, the giant wolf began to shrink, a skinny man taking its place on the ground. There were hints of muscle on his form, though it was no longer toned. His skin was pale and his brown hair messy and dirty. "If you could remove your dirty boot from my back, I'd be forever grateful," He spat out, sarcasm dripping.
 
Sinclair inwardly winces at just how skinny the werewolf is in human form. He's well aware of the hardships of living as a wanderer, has seen such before, but it's still shocking to see every time. Clearly though, this man's spirit is not broken despite his condition. Sinclair leans a bit more weight onto his back. "Don't be rude. I'm not adding anything that wasn't already there."

Sinclair pulls a chain leash from within his jacket pocket, then pulls the werewolf's arms behind his back. He doesn't have a collar on his, as he was expecting to find a pet to purchase, and they're already fitted with collars. However, the chain is long enough to loop around the man's neck, then run down his back to twist around his wrists. It's secured, and Sinclair pulls the man to his feet. "Tell me your name, pup."
 
The vampire seemed to be in a decent mood, perhaps Duncan could reason with him to let him go. He couldn't offer him much if anything at all, but maybe he could make the prospect of "taming" and "training" him not be worth the effort. Honestly, he'd rather die than be some compliant slave.

He struggled briefly when he felt chains circle his writs and wrap around his neck, but ultimately gave up any fight and let the vampire do as he will. He allowed himself to be stood up and he flexed his shoulders to test the strength of the chain. He ignored the vampires' question and instead asked, "How about you just let me go, we forget about this incident and we both go home happy. You really don't want to waste your time with me."
 
Sinclair is not pleased with the man's attitude, though he is secretly happy the werewolf isn't just a pushover. His hand grips the chain behind the man's back, pulling down on it. The result is the chain tightening uncomfortably around the man's neck.

"You are in no position to make demands, pup. Now tell me your name. Or will I need to force it out of you?" Sinclair pulls a bit more, causing the chain to dig into the man's skin. The white haired vampire raises an eyebrow, waiting.
 
The chain around his neck felt suffocating and not just physically. A pained hiss escaped his lips as he tried to adjust his neck to find a more comfortable position, but ended up finding none. He despised chains and all they represented, and he couldn't wait to be rid of them.

"You'll never know my name. I'll die with it." He growled.
 
Sinclair sighs, tilting his head. He eases up on the chain, but gives the man a push to start walking. His car isn't far, so he'll deal with the werewolf there. "Even wolves give in when they're lightheaded. You'll give me your name eventually, pup."

Sinclair keeps a hand on the chain as he walks the man down the street. Passersby don't even blink at the fact that the man is naked; the chain alone is enough to explain he's a wild pet. Arriving at his navy blue car, Sinclair opens the door and pushes the man into the back seat. The car is spacious enough that sitting back here is comfortable, even when Sinclair follows the man into the car.

The vampire takes a short chain hanging from the car's ceiling handle above the door they came in and clips it to the chain around the man's throat. It's long enough to hang loose as long as the man doesn't move too far away. But it pulls tight if he tries to pull away. With the man's hands chained behind his back, and now trapped between him and the seat, Sinclair straddles his lap. One hand tangles in the man's hair, the other resting on his chest. "Let's see how good you taste, hm?" It doesn't matter that Sinclair had already fed for the night; it hadn't been much. So he leans in, pulls the werewoof's head back by his hair, and bites down on the side of his neck, sharp fangs piercing skin.
 
The words "if you say so" were on the very tip of his tongue, but he decided to remain silent. He wasn't quite sure of this vampires' personality and the last thing he wanted to do was trigger some sort of competitive response. He needed to survive in order to get away unless he'd just be quickly disposed of, but he didn't think death was quite on the menu just yet.

Duncan allowed himself to be dragged from the alley, not wanting to be standing there much longer himself. He raised his chin in a strange sense of pride as they passed by others, though none so much as spared him a second glance. He felt disgusted that this sort of sight had become such a commonplace and he wondered if things would ever go back to some kind of semblance of normal. Perhaps he could take the time to learn what he could before escaping to bring back to his pack and others, maybe-

His thoughts were interrupted as he was shoved into a car. He cursed himself silently for not focusing on where he was going. There wasn't much time for him to reorient himself before the vampire was upon him, maneuvering the chains to an unseen hook. He grunted when the vampire straddled him, his chained hands almost uncomfortably pushing back into the seat. "Don't you dare!" He shouted as he felt his head being tilted back. He was about to start putting up a real fight when the sting of fangs pierced his skin, rending him silent but a pained groaned.
 
The moment the werewolf's blood hits his tongue, Sinclair moans at the taste. Hot, sweet, yet somehow also spicy. The vampire's favorite taste. Sinclair adjusts his mouth to remove his fangs, but seals his lips around the punctures to suck at the werewolf neck. The anti-coagulant produced in a vampire's glands, delivered into the punctures by the fangs, keeps the blood flowing. It's not a fast flow, which is why the vampire sucks at the skin. But it's enough to start making the werewolf lightheaded after five minutes.

Sinclair drags his tongue across the punctures. His saliva holds the opposite to his fang glands; a coagulant to halt the bleeding. Then he lifts his head, licking his lips. "Mm, very satisfying. You look much more relaxed. Now then, tell me your name."
 
Duncan remained super still, afraid if he fought even a little he'd cause his jugular to be ripped open by fangs. It seemed to go on for hours and he briefly wondered if the vampire would lose his control and simply drain him dry. His thoughts became muddled shortly after the thought, his head feeling like he was above the clouds. He couldn't focus on anything, his vision blurry and his thoughts broken and scattered.

My name? My name is "Duncan." He couldn't tell if he finished his sentence allowed of if he finished the thought in his head. He wanted to close his eyes and go to sleep.
 
Sinclair smirks, running his fingers through Duncan's hair. He grimaced shortly after; the man needs a good shower. Normally he wouldn't drink so much from his pets at once, but he doesn't want to just be calling the man pup. He needed his name. And now he has it. "Duncan. A good name. Why don't you take a nap, Duncan? We'll be home soon."

Sinclair tilts Duncan's head back against the seat, then waits for him to close his eyes before climbing out of the car. He goes around to the driver's door, getting behind the wheel and pulling the car away from the curb. It a short drive home, to a decently sized two floor home. Not huge like one would expect of all vampires, but not tiny either. Sinclair only ever kept two or three pets at a time, so even his previous home had only been a two bedroom. This one is technically also a two bedroom, but he has converted the second bedroom into an office den.

Turning off the car in the driveway, Sinclair gets out and goes around to Duncan's door. Seeing as the man's eyes are still closed, asleep or not, Sinclair unclips him from the car chain and lifts him up, cradled to his chest. Up the front deck steps and into the house, Sinclair makes his way upstairs to the master bedroom.
 
Duncan didn't want to close his eyes around the vampire but the pull into unconsciousness was stronger than his will to remain awake. With his head tilted gently back on the seat he let his eyes shut, drifting off into a light sleep.

He was jostled slightly when he felt the car stop and turn off, but he was unwilling to open his eyes or give any sort of cooperation, so he kept his eyes closed to feign sleep and to give whatever hard time he could. He could feel the vampire move about his form, unlocking the chain from the car hook and being picked up, uncomfortably close to his chest. When he senses the vampire stop, he let out a growl, pushing himself away, hoping to be dropped onto the ground.
 
In a far more healthy condition than the skinny werewolf, Sinclair doesn't budge as Duncan pushes at him suddenly. Nor does his grip. The vampire stares down at Duncan, a low rolling growl vibrating in his chest. The sound is a warning, one Duncan would do well to heed.

Sinclair doesn't set Duncan on his feet until the man stops struggling. However, his left hand grips the chain running down the man's back from his neck to his hands,still secured behind Duncan. "Now now, no need to be rude. You were sleeping. I was going to put you to bed, but now that you're awake, we are going to shower instead."
 
His eyes open with the charade was up his pupils' mere slits from anger. His head was still woozy from blood loss, he couldn't reliably move his limbs, so he ended up wiggling around in the vampires' arms like a chained worm. He ended up nothing more than a sweaty, panting mess dizzy from the exertion. He was grateful for the chain just this one time as he wouldn't be able to hold himself up without a little bit of help.

Duncans' nostrils flared, his need to shapeshift was great but he couldn't flex his body enough while being constricted. With a sneer, he looked at Sinclair, "If you want to call anyone rude you should look at yourself!"
 
Sinclair sighs, tugging Duncan with him as he moves to the bedside table. He pulls what looks like a brown leather collar from the drawer, but there's a small silver plate on it, next to the silver buckle. "I can already see I won't be able to trust you, so it seems you'll need to be trained."

Sinclair tugs Duncan along to the ensuite bathroom next. It designed different from the average bathroom, the entire room done with heated earth brown tiles. The lines between the tiles are accented in gold. There's a tub large enough for three people, and the shower in the corner is open concept design. No curtain or glass wall, simply a slightly angled floor to a drain and a rainfall shower head above. The tiles start to heat to a comfortable level, activated by motion sensor as they walk in.

Sinclair sets the collar on the counter by the sink, which is backed by a large mirror. Then he takes Duncan to the shower. It seems he's accustomed to having the occasional ill-behaved, or simply bratty, pet, as there's a two feet chain attached to the wall. Sinclair clips this chain to the one at Duncan's back. Then he moves back to the counter and begins stripping down.
 
Duncan's nostrils flared in barely contained anger as he allowed himself to be dragged about the room and ultimately to the bathroom. He wasn't a particularly angry person, but the fact that he's been basically kidnapped would make one pretty angry. He was unsure of what to do about this situation, he wondered if he brought up his pack if the vampire would have even a shred of mercy in him to let him go. Probably not. His familys' death would be dangled above his head without him surrendering their location. It was a risk he was unsure if he wanted to take.

He took a moment to observe the beauty of the bathroom, able to appreciate good craftsmanship when it was presented to him. He pointedly ignored the collar that sat there on the sink counter, taunting him with his freedom. He sat down on the tiled shower floor, averting his eyes from the stripping vampire. He huffed, annoyed, hating to remain in human skin for this long. He much more preferred his pelt. "So how long do you intend on keeping me here?" He asked after a moment. Might as well test the waters.
 
The shower chain is just barely long enough to allow Duncan to sit without it pulling his chain tight around his throat. There's only the smallest bit of slack in the chain between him and the wall. Once Sinclair is undressed, he steps over and turns on the large rainfall showerhead. It's got enough pressure to feel good, but still like rain.

Sinclair stands directly next to Duncan, and if the man were to turn his head, he would get a full view of Sinclair's groin. The vampire has no modesty, of course. Sinclair picks up the bottle of shampoo, lathering his hands before pulling Duncan's hair to tip his head back. Then his fingers start to work the shampoo through his hair, firmly scrubbing the man's scalp. He answers Duncan's question with one of his own. "How long do you intend on misbehaving?"
 
Duncan allowed himself to be washed, he couldn't lie it felt really good to get the crusted dirt and sweat out of his hair. He would never admit it, but the water falling onto him was the best feeling he'd felt in a very long time. He remained silent for a bit, trying his best to ignore the make vampire in front of him, instead of focusing on how the chain pulled awfully taut and how he couldn't get a more comfortable position.

"You can't expect me to stay compliant forever while you keep me captive. I don't want to be your pet," He said quietly, his eyes locked on the tiles.
 
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