1. The Wolves of Berlin


    Date: 9/17/2015, Categories: Dark Fantasy, Coercion, Consensual Sex, Cruelty, Death, Exhibitionism, First Time, Horror, Lesbian, Monster, Murder, Oral Sex, Reluctance, Teen, Author: BlackRonin, Rating: 0, Source: sexstories.com

    real name is Jean Fontenoy." Bethanie started. "The fascist journalist?" "Ah: a fan." She laughed. Fontenoy looked alarmed. Before long she was bent over, holding her stomach. "I'm sorry," she said (which she wasn‘t). "I just never expected...what are you doing working in a place like that? As a doorman? You're supposed to be at the front." "And you're supposed to be dead. If it wasn't for me you really would be." "My gratitude is very limited. Where are we going?" "Somewhere we can talk without extra ears around." "I have nothing to talk to you about." "Not even the werewolf?" That shut Bethanie up. Fontenoy offered no more answers until they came to his apartment. The place was dingy with a smell she faintly recognized as opium. He went to the kitchen and poured something in a glass. She refused one of the same. She waited for Fontenoy to say something but all he did was sink into a chair and sip his drink. She tapped her foot on the carpet and finally broke the silence herself: "So you know my real name, and you know the family legend." "Yes." "And why do you buy into such a preposterous story? No one these days believes in werewolves." “I do.” “Why?” "Because I'm a werewolf." Bethanie cocked her head. "You're making fun of me." He shook his head. "You're serious?" He nodded. "Let's see then," Bethanie said. And she stabbed him in the heart. The knife she'd lifted from the dinner table was short, and not designed for killing, but she was strong and standing very close, ...
    and she punctured his chest five or six times in ten seconds. Red spots blossomed on his shirt and his body jerked, eyes widening in shock, but she didn’t stop. When she stuck the knife in for the last time she twisted it and stood back, panting. Her hands were all red. Fontenoy sat there. Then, very slowly, he got up, went to the kitchen, and fixed a new drink. Then he came back and sat in the same chair, all the while leaking like a sieve. The knife still protruded from his chest. He took a sip. "Convinced?" he said. Bethanie reminded herself to breathe. A sense of morbid fascination compelled her to look very closely at the place where his flesh parted around the blade. “Does it hurt?” "Yes. But everything hurts when you're one of us." "But you're not the werewolf who chased me last night. You can't be. So who is?" "My wife, Madeline." Bethanie gave him another incredulous look. "That's why I came to find you the other day. I wanted your help. Madeline has lived with the curse for her entire life, but things changed a few years ago. She went mad, for lack of a better word. Started to lose what made her human. I've seen it happen before. Awful." He looked dreamily into his glass, swirling the ice, as he talked. "It happened while I was away, in Shanghai, in '37. You've read my work about Shanghai? Seeing the Jap occupation, what they did to people...that's when I realized there was no winning against people like that. The Allies don't have the spine for it. When a thing like ...
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