Big Bad

by Lillian Jacobs

  __________

  “Red, do you remember that day at your grandmother’s house?”

  “How could I forget? Though, now it’s all kind of a blur.”

  Eric walked over to her and sat down. His hair was long and blonde, his face chiseled.

  “If you don’t want to talk about it, we don’t have to.”

  “No, its okay,” she said, holding back the long repressed images in her head.

  He gently unwrapped her fingers, which had been held tightly in a fist, and caressed them.

  “You were sitting in a puddle of blood. It was all over you. It covered your face, your arms, everything. You were completely naked, save your cape and hood, and so shocked you could not even cry. You were completely helpless.”

  Eric slowly stroked her hair and ran his chin stubble against her smooth cheek.

  “And now before me, I see someone completely reborn. You are so strong now. I don’t even recognize the girl that I found in the cottage that day.”

  He brought his lips to hers and they felt the velvety softness of each other.

  “Red, your training will begin in a month. It is perhaps unnecessary. You seem fine to me. Are you sure that you want to keep going down this path? It’s not that I don’t think you can handle it. I just don’t want you to be hurt. Keeping you from harm is all that matters to me.”

  Red kissed him once more to soothe his mind.

  “I have to do this. I don’t have a choice, Eric.”

  “You do have a choice. You can’t even comprehend what this kind of life will do to you. I don’t want to see that happen just because you want to play a man’s game. I won’t allow it,” he said angrily.

  She slapped him in the face and stood up, turned her back to him, and looked out at the white snow as it fell quietly across the dark forest. He approached her from behind and wrapped his arms around her body.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that. I’m just worried about you.”

  She wiped the tears from her eyes.

  “You don’t know what it’s like,” she said. “To be so helpless. To not be able to save the people that you love.”

  “I know,” he said, kissing the top of her head.

  “I’ll never forget that moment. It’s a part of me. You said I seem like I’ve been reborn as of right now. But that’s not true. I was reborn in that cabin, so long ago. I have never been the same. You saw a girl that was helpless and scared. But what I was feeling was overwhelming rage. And that rage inside me will never subside. And anyone who doubts me will know it best.”

  “And you feel that by learning how to hunt these creatures – you will be satisfied?”

  “I guess I’ll find out, won’t I?”

  Red turned around and moved her hands across his bare chest before using her hand to grab onto his wrist. He turned his hand to escape from her grasp but she spun agilely around and wrapped her other arm around him.

  “I see I’ve taught you well.”

  “That is not all that I have learned,” she said, licking the back of his neck and grabbing onto his growing bulge.

  “And yet I am still the teacher,” Eric said, lifting and throwing her onto the bed before diving on top of her.

  He passionately kissed her and slowly guided his gravelly face between her luscious breasts, before moving lower and lower and burying himself between her legs. Red moaned as he greedily feasted and her troubles seemed to fade.

  “You ease the weight on my shoulders with your tongue,” she said.

  “If I could erase the weight for eternity, I would.”

  She pulled him up to her and ran her hand along his erect manhood.

  “Let us attempt to reach such a lofty goal, and imagine it is not so out of reach.”

  Eric grabbed and held her hands behind her head as he glided himself into her waiting opening. She moaned as he began to rock his hips back and forth.

  “Do you feel safe, now?” he asked, as he engulfed her entire being.

  “Yes,” she whispered. But it was a lie. She had forgotten what it was like to feel safe, and knew that she would never feel such a sensation again for the rest of her life - unless she was granted revenge.

  Chapter 3

  Werewolf Hunter

  Red approached the large building where she would spend the next couple of years. From the outside, it appeared a regular training guild. There was no clue given to its real purpose: werewolf hunting school. I do not imagine I will be the same person when I am done. But I need to go through with this. I do not want to spend my remaining years feeling helpless.

  Red, wearing her hood and cape, walked up the steps and entered. The building was furnished tastefully and a bearded man, who appeared to be the secretary, asked her many questions to confirm her identity before she was allowed entry into an office. Eric had used his connections to arrange for her enrollment, as the guild was highly exclusive and secretive.

  “Please review and sign this contract,” he said, showing her a stack of papers. “This states that you grant us permission to train you properly, and that you accept the training consensually. This list states what will occur during the training and what will not occur.”

  Red scanned the document, her eyes and mouth opening wider and wider the more she read.

  “Flogging? Whipping? Butt plugs? What kind of school is this?”

  “I assure you, it is necessary for the training. Would you like some tea?”

  Red closed her eyes and remembered why she had come there in the first place.

  “No thanks. I am ready. Whatever you choose to do with me, if it allows me to kill werewolves, then I consent.”

  Red signed the document and smiled.

  “Please, have some tea,” he said, handing her a cup.

  “Thanks,” she said, sipping and looking around. She noticed no other students or teachers. Is this the right place? I thought this was supposed to be a school – yet there is no one here.

  “Are you enjoying your tea?” the man asked, stroking his beard.

  “Yes. It is okay, I suppose. Where are all the other students?”

  The man smiled.

  “Students? Why would there be students here?”

  “Because it’s a school,” Red said, confused.

  “This is not a school. A school teaches using positive reinforcement. Good grades. Gold stars. We teach through punishment. Think of this place as a prison. And your sentence begins right now.”

  Red was listening, but his words began to blend into each other and his face began to distort and fade. She glanced into the tea cup, using her finger to swirl the liquid around.

  “I’m glad you enjoyed the tea – it has a special ingredient. Of course, you know about this already, as the ingredient is listed on page 37 of the binding contract and you of course have consented to its intake.”

  “I’ve changed my mind – this tea sucks,” Red said, closing her eyes and fading into black.

  __________

  Red awoke to darkness. She was completely naked and lying on a cold and hard concrete floor. Her mind raced, as the shock of the situation was overwhelming. Where am I? What happened? How can I escape?

  Bright and blinding lights came on, illuminating a large and rectangular room that resembled a dungeon, as the walls featured restraints and chains. Red noticed how sparse it was, as there was only a single bed and washroom. The head and foot boards of the bed had shackles and chains. This is another fine mess you’ve gotten yourself into, Red.

  The door opened and the bearded man walked in. Red crawled to the corner of the room and covered her body with her arms.

  “What’s going on?” she asked.

  “This is your training,” he said, stroking his beard. “You have been stripped of your possessions, as they only contribute to your sense of attachment. Attachment requires you and what you possess – two separate things. Without attachment – there is no separation - only unity.”

  “What does this
have to do with killing werewolves?”

  “Werewolves are dualistic beasts. They are torn between their humanity and their primal nature. To defeat them you must become everything they are not. You must become what they hate, what destroys them, to your very core.”

  “I will do whatever it takes, even if it requires me to give up my red hood.”

  “Good,” he said, glancing at her smooth body. “A werewolf is consumed by a desire to control – because that is the one thing that they do not have. They cannot control their own transformations – and once they have transformed – they cannot control their actions. When you free yourself from the world – from your possessions – you free yourself from trying to grasp and control the world. You free yourself from letting a loss of control destroy you.”

  “So I guess you aren’t the secretary then?” Red said, smirking.

  “No,” he said sternly. “I am a member of the Luparii. The Luparii is a werewolf hunting guild. It was originally founded in Middle Age France - 813 to be exact - by Charlemagne to control the wolf population, as wolf plagues were common back then. Funded by the crown, each slain wolf granted payment to the slayer. The organization continues to this day, although its purpose has evolved. As a member of the Luparii, I am qualified to personally train you in our ways. You will be trained mentally as well as physically. You will learn weaponry, tracking, hunting, and discipline. But you must follow my every word and you must call me Master.”

  Red did not care for this training so far. I’m an adult. I don’t have to take this. He is worse than my mother.

  “Do you understand?”

  But she did not reply and just stared at the wall.

  “You signed the contract yesterday granting us permission to train you our way. If you can’t handle it, you can quit at any time. You have permission to refuse or leave at any time. You will not be harmed. But if you leave, you will never become a member of the Luparii, and you will never get revenge for what happened.”

  “How do you know what happened to me?”

  “All werewolf attacks are documented by us. Eric told me some of what occurred, but I learned more from our scouts. Werewolf hunters are hard to find; they must have a deep seated hatred for the species and a bad experience such as yours is a typical tale. From what I hear – this was more of an attack on the heart, than anything else.”

  Red stood up quickly, no longer afraid of showing her private treasures, and ran up to him.

  “You have no right to say such things! Now get out of my way! I’m leaving!”

  The bearded man stepped aside, allowing her to leave.

  “Leave, if that is what you desire. Not everyone can handle this. I wouldn’t imagine someone who has seen the red haze to have the self-control and discipline required.”

  Red froze – How did he know that I have seen red?

  “Those that have mated with werewolves sometimes receive something in return. The lifelong bond of a werewolf lends itself to an exchange of some of their gifts.”

  Red turned and stared into his eyes, which appeared kinder than she at first thought. They were not angry – he was not angry. He was completely neutral. Her outburst had no effect on him whatsoever.

  “I see things,” Red said. “A red mist appears – in times of anger – or in times of chaos or – I don’t know.”

  “I can teach you how to control your gift. But you must do as I say.”

  Red looked down and shut her eyes tightly before looking up once more.

  “Do you understand?” he said.

  “Yes, Master,” Red replied.

  __________

  Red spent the next few days being introduced to various types of weapons and techniques that would supposedly aid her in hunting werewolves. It was grueling, as she was taken into the training yard and forced to learn certain stances and motions while the Master watched and yelled.

  “You are not learning fast enough,” he said, grabbing her hips and pulling her into the correction position.

  Red fired her arrow, but missed the target completely. The Master shook his head disappointedly.

  “Come with me,” he said and led her into her room. “Lie face down.”

  Red did as he commanded and he tied her wrists and ankles to restraints on the bed.

  “Killing a werewolf or a lycanthrope is not easy. Silver works. So does mercury. Our arrowheads use both in an alloy combination.”

  Red shrieked as she felt a sharp sting as he slapped her buttocks with one of the arrows.

  “But if you cannot hit them, then the arrow is useless,” he said, slapping her once more.

  He reached between her legs and felt her juices running.

  “I can see why you are unable to concentrate. You have other things on your mind.”

  “I’m sorry, Master,” she said.

  He slapped her across the buttocks again and again. She wondered if she would be able to walk again after this was over. Tears welled up in her eyes.

  SLAP!

  She yelped and shut her eyes tightly. He reached his finger between her legs once more and she moaned.

  “Your body is ruled by pleasure and pain. But pleasure and pain cause suffering. They are like two arrows. The first arrow strikes when the pain hits,” he said as he slapped her with the arrow.

  “Then you feel pleasure,” he said as he ran his fingers along her so gently that she could barely feel them. He massaged her swollen lips, rubbing her clitoris between his fingers. She felt a whisper between her legs and he placed his mouth between her cheeks, licking and sucking softly as she moaned. His tongue gently flicked her most sensitive areas.

  “Then when the pleasure ends – you feel the second arrow hit you.”

  With that, he struck her once more with the arrow, leaving a red mark on her buttocks as she shrieked. He smiled roguishly.

  “You see, you do not end your suffering with pleasure, because you know that the pleasure will soon end. Pleasure and pain are not separate – they are one entity – acting like a single wave with ebb and flow.”

  The Master mounted her buttocks and began to rub his hard member against her opening. Red whimpered, hoping that he would enter her and end the torment. He slowly placed the tip within her, and she sighed in relief. Then he slapped her across her buttocks once again, harder than before.

  “You must realize that there is no difference between pleasure and pain.”

  He went deeper and deeper and began to rock back and forth, pumping in and out of her, while continuing to whip her with the arrow.

  “Therefore you must not resist the pain, you must accept it.”

  Red was incredibly turned on, and felt her juices flowing down her thighs – she wanted to climax to release the stress she had been feeling the past few days. He spanked her bright red cheeks and she whimpered helplessly. She jut her buttocks up and he pounded into her. Just as she was about to climax, though, he removed himself from her. She panted and whimpered, as she was so close.

  “And because pain is something we accept. There is no need to escape pain with pleasure.”

  Red couldn’t believe what he was saying, as she struggled to catch her breath.

  “You must learn to control your primal urges. If you cannot, then the werewolves will use these urges against you. That is what they know best, as they live by these uncontrollable urges. Werewolves have the most sadistic of desires. To conquer the werewolf, you must conquer your own desires.”

  The Master untied her and she sat up, rubbing her wrists, and staring at the floor.

  “As part of your training, you are forbidden to orgasm. You are forbidden from touching yourself”

  “That’s insane!” Red yelled.

  “The werewolves sense the arousal of others – it gets them excited and causes them to transform.”

  “How can I control such a thing?”

  “You must learn to control your mind as well as your body. Just as you control pain sensations, you must control pleas
ure sensations. You have a problem with control: The red haze. You cannot control your own urges. You see red, which is the anger and passion in others – and it draws you in as well. You must learn to control it, or you will be an easy target.”

  Red couldn’t believe what she was hearing, but she remained silent.

  “Now, get back to target practice.”

  Red sat up and followed him outside. She hit the target with her first attempt.

  __________

  The days were exhausting and demanding. The Master taught her how to track the wolves, how to spar, and how to hunt. After a few months, Red began to catch on, as she desperately wanted to avoid being paddled whenever she made a mistake. She felt she was ready, although the Master thought otherwise.

  Once thing that she could not understand, was avoiding the pleasures of touch. It was incredibly difficult to resist touching herself; however, she was doing well and had avoided it, though she did not know how much longer she could keep it up. In the Master’s quarters, She lay on his bed, naked, while he droned on an on.

  “I remember facing up against this real brute - this particular wolf was a descendant of the Courtaud pack, as they were often reddish in color and I recognized his ancestry immediately. Courtaud was a legendary French wolf who led a pack of wolves in Paris and killed more than forty people in 1450.”