Chapter 1

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 in 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?"

"It's locked isn't it?"

"Yes."

"It might still be there when you walk back for it."

"Oh," she said, trying to stifle another sob.

Once Aggie was in the truck, Abraham drove aimlessly for several miles then asked, "How's your twat, cunt?"

"It's sore, but you know that."

"What one smack and you can't take anymore?"

"It was a hell of a smack."

"Maybe," he said conceding the fact that he hadn't thought about it beforehand.

"Where do you live?"

"About six miles in the opposite direction," Aggie replied, secretly pleased that he wanted to know where she lived.

Her jaw dropped when he made a quick U-turn and headed in the other direction.

"Have many boyfriends?"

"Four or five, I guess."

"Which is it?"

"Four. I haven't seen one for a time. I might have frightened him off with my kinkiness."

He laughed at her. "You think you're kinky?"

"I am kinky. I just proved it, didn't I?"

"You proved you're stupid enough to meet a guy you don't know dick about. Go to a deserted men's room with him and drink the fucking water while he beats you with a leather belt."

She protested, "It ... it wasn't like that ... I..."

"That's exactly what you did, you stupid cow."

"Yes, but..."

"No buts, cunt. You did what I told you too without thinking about what else I might have had in store for you. Even now, you're going God knows where with me, to do God knows what."

"Why did you turn around after I told you I lived this way?"

"I'm going to fuck you in your place. You might be too sore to travel after we're done."

"But you didn't ask if anyone else might be there," Aggie protested.

"Does it look like I care?"

"Oh..."

"I want a quick answer to the next question or I'll dump you at the next intersection."

"What?"

"How many guys have you fucked?"

"I think ... fourteen, maybe fifteen," she responded quickly enough to satisfy him.

"How many were good?"

"Um ... maybe two or three."

"How many did you call after for another fuck?"

"One ... but he had moved on."

"So let me recap for you. You fucked fifteen guys. One was sufficient enough to warrant a call back, but he'd moved on. Moved on to what ... another cunt?"

"No ... he transferred to a college in Georgia," she tried but failed to keep the petulance out of her voice.

"Poor baby," he cooed then asked, "Directions?"

"Huh?" Aggie replied confused by the rapid change in topic.

.

"We're going to your place to fuck, you stupid cunt. Now tell me how to get there!"

Aggie managed to stutter the directions without sobbing, and he gave her thigh a strong squeeze that delighted her although she knew it would leave a dark bruise for several weeks.

Abraham noticed her apprehensiveness as they walked into her home.

Her home my ass, he thought, the cunt lives with her parents.

"Anybody else home?"

"Shouldn't be. My mother works until six almost every day."

"Almost?"

"I didn't see her car parked anywhere when we got here," Aggie tossed out as if that was proof positive of her mother's absence.

Thinking she was a dumb cunt, and that her mother might just be in another part of the house, Abraham considered walking away. But the girl had potential and he didn't want to have to call Sheila just yet. He was letting her stew for another day or so.

Sheila was an actress he'd been banging every so often; very good in bed and talented in her sexual proclivities, very talented in that category, so that she was in demand for more than bit parts in the occasional movie.

Abraham made use of Aggies's bathroom to both urinate and to add a sex toy from his formidable sex arsenal.

He returned to find her waiting for him. "Get naked and on your knees, ' he said sternly.

"Um, yes, of course," she replied whipping the yellow sundress over her head and quickly peeling the matching thong out of her ass crack, and tossed it to one side. That left her standing before him in her heels and nothing else.

"Are the shoes... ?"

"They're fine," he said, and then measuring the distance, he smacked Aggie right on the welt he'd left on her right buttock.

She bit her lip. She would have yelped had she not seen it coming.

"Take my cock out."

Her fingers flew as she unbuttoned his jeans, pulled the zipper down, and when his prodigious member popped out a delighted look lit up her face.

"You ... you must be ten inches!" Aggie chirped gleefully as she pulled his jeans down and he stepped out of them as his prick jutted toward the ceiling.

Once he was fully exposed, Aggie gasped, "You're wearing a cockring around that fat cock!"

He didn't reply.

"Is it true about them ... cockrings, I mean?"

"Is what true?"

"That you can fuck ... like forever?"

"True enough." He saw no reason to tell her there was a time limit that had to be adhered to or risk severe damage to his favorite body part.

"I've never seen one," Aggie said, obviously awed by this surprise. "May I examine it?"

He allowed her to lift his erection and marvel at the 14K gold cockring that he had slipped over both his penis and testicles to assure a long-lasting erection, for he fully intended to fuck Aggie senseless before leaving her.

"Put it in your mouth," he commanded.

Aggie lifted the pulsing member to her mouth. Her tongue darted out and licked at the head until she had covered its entirety. Then she bestowed a kiss on the hole from which his precum had begun to seep.

"Mmmm..."

He noted that she was thoroughly enjoying the blowjob, taking him back into her mouth, rolling her tongue all around his cockhead, sampling the different textures it offered. After covering it with her saliva she released him and cupped his ballsack, gently fondling each testicle in turn then taking them in her mouth and bathing them with her talented tongue. She didn't neglect his pulsing prick either, stroking it gingerly, not wanting to hurry his climax.

On hearing what she took as his first sign of pleasure from her ministrations to his love-stick, Aggie let his balls fall from her mouth to her hand, and then still fondling them, she swooped his meat back into her mouth and attempted to deep throat him, bobbing up and down relentlessly, but failing to take more than six thick inches deep before relinquishing him to gasp for breath after ten or twelve seconds had elapsed.