FireFox

Chapter 1

Written by Nathan Cowen

Copyright © 2005 by Nathan Cowen, all rights reserved. Reproduction and distribution of this work by any means without the expressed written permission of the author, or hotlinking from another website without the expressed written permission of the author and BondoFox, is expressly forbidden. Similarity to any person, living or dead, is coincidental.

Firefox woke slowly, reluctant to return to reality.

She was curled into a furry ball, legs up against her breasts, tail folded to touch the tip of her nose. Her hands were under the side of her head, and as always, the first thing she did was yawn and stretch, tongue curling and eyes closed. She could only open her mouth partway, until she took up the slack of the loose muzzle.

As she did every morning, she panicked when she felt the restriction, trashing momentarily and awkwardly on the floor. The bands on her wrists were connected with a bit of chain a few inches long, as were the bands on her ankles; that added to the flash of terror, which stopped only when she remembered where she was, and knew they were watching her through the monitors, and laughing at her. The chains were the first problem. She could get up to a respectable speed by jumping, but she didn't think she could outrun a guard.

She sat up on the bare floor, lowering her hands to cover her nipples, still surprised momentarily by the plastic studs in the piercings they had forced on her. Her nostrils flared once as she scented the air. Her fur fluffed, and stirred softly in the slight breeze. The pressure on her fur told her the air came in through a vent on one corner of the ceiling, and exited through a narrow gap under the door. The air-in vent was barely eight centimeters tall; no way to use them. From the way the air moved, the room was about two meters by two meters, and two and a half high. The air coming in was micro-filtered and very clean; the only thing she could scent was herself, and traces of semen in her fur.

She was conscious of the air and the smells it bore before she was conscious of what she could see. Before she shifted into a squat (her buttocks ached from being paddled), her pupils were slowly contracting sideways, into vertical slits. Even when she slept the room was brightly lit from a band that ran around the ceiling, interrupted only by the air-in ventilation grille.

The walls and floor were coated with a stiff, but yielding, plastic. On one wall was a door, and across from it a plastic dildo projected, erect, from the wall, at about waist height. Loops of Kevlar were on each wall, attachment points for chains.

The door was the second problem. It opened only from outside, had four bolts, and even if her hands were free, she doubted she could smash it open.

She couldn't tell what the walls themselves were made of, but since she didn't feel a magnetic field, they were not likely metal. Probably concrete. She looked at the door for a moment; that was steel clad in the same plastic. On the ceiling was a video camera rig, held in an opaque dome. Each time the servos shifted to track her, she could sense the electricity flowing into the motors. And the camera was always following her. It was either manned continuously, or automated. She didn't like to think about what they did with the video they captured.

The camera was the third problem. She could not sabotage it, and she had no way to guess how often they monitored her, which meant that escape plans which required time and privacy were out of the question. If she lay down in front of the door they would bombard the room with shrill ultrasonics until she moved away: they were probably worried she was covering an escape attempt with her own body.

The heat was so closely regulated and controlled she was barely able to feel the temperature gradient between her feet and head when she stood in the cell. The infrared pit sensor at the end of her snout could detect piping in the walls, running cold or hot for thermal regulation. In fact, since she had been taken here, she had never felt particularly cold or hot, even though she wore nothing but straps, chain, and her fur.

Her long red ears, black at the tips, twitched as they hunted for sound. There were steps outside, two men in sneakers. They probably imagined she couldn't hear them. She had never heard another cell open, even though she knew there had to be at least another three prisoners. The steps went away. From where, to where? Her mental map of the facility was fragmented; from here, she only had a clear notion of where the bathroom was.

Before coming here -- she was already starting to think of it as a different life -- Doctor Clayton had been slightly upset with her when she had her left ear pierced; he had been afraid it would impact her hearing. At the same time, he had been proud: it had been the first time one of the Foxforce Four had shown initiative in her personal life, the first bit of evidence the four enhanced chimeras had desires and thoughts instead of programmed behaviors. Here, they had also pierced her nipples and clitoris. She hated that; it was for them and not for her.

All those senses, taken from the DNA of dogs, cats, sharks, and pit vipers; and not once had she seen or scented or heard one of the other three; not the two who were as close to her as sisters nor the third who was sometimes a lover.

She did, however, feel thirsty. And she hated what she had to do next. She wished there were a toilet in the cell. Drinking from it would be more dignified.

She rolled over to the fake penis that stuck out of the wall, took a deep breath, sighed, and knelt in front of it. She hated the submissive posture almost as much as she hated taking the tip into her mouth. She tried to think of it as a tube, like a hamster's water bottle, but it never worked. She closed her eyes, and took its length into her mouth, until her nose touched the switch on the wall. The dildo started moving in and out, thrusting into her mouth. She was sure it pushed a little deeper every time she used it; but if she pulled her head back, her nose would leave the switch and she'd have to start over again.

Even that wasn't humiliating enough for the people who held her prisoner. She didn't know how they did it, but they could tell, with perfect accuracy, when she had an orgasm. She could neither conceal a climax nor fake one; perhaps they used her neural computer connection. Technofox had probably figured out the details. The most worrying part was that meant they had hacked her implant transmitter; that, in turn, meant they could track her by its signal possibly for several kilometers.

Firefox moved her chained hands off her breasts and down between her legs, opening her knees wider for better access. No, it wasn't enough to force her to fellate a plastic cock until it ejaculated water into her mouth; they made her masturbate while doing it.

It would be easier if she could fondle her breasts with one hand while working between her legs with the other, but the chain between her wrists made that impossible. She ran a set of fantasies through her mind before settling on one where she was pleasuring Jeff while sitting on Silverfox's face. It let her make what her body was feeling part of the fantasy, let her imagine Silverfox lapping eagerly at her pubes while Jeff stroked her head and told her how beautiful she was, and how he loved her. It had never happened, but she needed to think of Jeff's tenderness and Silverfox's laughing, unashamed sensuality. She could hear herself exaggerating the sucking noises, and making soft moans as she pushed her hard nipples against the wall and imagined Jeff standing over her, felt the studs in them turn and twist in her flesh. Jeff, not anyone here.

Last night, as she was strapped face down, one of the guards had dropped his pants and rubbed his erection on her fur. She had been convinced she was going to be raped, but instead he not actually entered her, had just let her know that he could if he chose to. He hadn't actually come on her, but he had spilled a few drops. Now she was suddenly aware of that fragrance in her hair, and thinking of Jeff, it excited her. She tossed her hair so it covered her nose, lifted her hands to her breasts, squeezed them gently and ran a claw over each nipple. She came, unexpectedly and sharply, the first time she had ever orgasmed from touching her breasts. An instant later the dildo rewarded her with a strong flow of water. For a moment, nothing mattered but gulping the fluid down inside of her. She moved her hands up to clamp her mouth around the dildo, so nothing would escape her throat.

When the flow stopped, she moved away and took a deep breath. She thought of the camera that was doubtless focused on her, and tried not to think of her humiliation. She knew they'd be rewatching that video. It was strange; semen had never been one of her kinks, but the scent that guard had left on her had excited her beyond all reason, and she was more than slightly ashamed that one of the guards had been able to provoke that in her.

Her ears swiveled around and she heard them walk to the door before multiple bolts slid open. There were two doors that led to the corridor outside, forming a sort of airlock. The outer one opened, (steps) closed, then the bolts on the inner door opened. Even if she somehow took out two guards in her cell, she'd still be trapped by the outer door. Firefox rolled to her feet, covered her breasts, and prepared to meet them defiantly, standing. She was never sure if she should cover her breasts or her crotch or simply stand, casually naked.

There were two, in loose khaki uniforms and canvas shoes, one blond and one black-haired. They wore gloves, thick with silver palms. She hadn't seen the same guard twice yet. Her nostrils flared as she memorized their scents and their faces; someday, she knew she would see them through a gunsight.

"Show respect. Kneel, doggie," the blond said.

"Fuck you," she said immediately.

They both laughed. "Here, that's an invitation," black hair said.

"She's ready for both of us," the blond said. "Ever see a girl that wet?"

"Shame we can't take her up on that."

"Shame you can't get real girlfriends," Firefox said.

"Let's shut her up," the blond said. "No breakfast for her."

"Sure. Cock or ball gag?"

"Cock," the blond said, smiling at her. "She needs more time with a dick in her mouth." He reached out to touch the side of her face. "Look at that snout. It's like they designed it for going down on a man--"

Before his fingers touched her, she ducked to the side, bounced off the wall, and tried to drive her head into his gut. It was a stupid thing to do, and she knew it, but had to make the attempt. She was faster than any human and stronger than most, but there was too much against her. She had trained to kick in close combat, and there was no way she could. They each grappled her, the blond grabbing her wrists, the other getting behind her and holding her shoulder and hip. Even so, she was about to twist her arms free when --

"Shock," she heard them say, sharply.

Their gloves sparked and Firefox choked back a scream of pain. Tiny blue arcs of electricity drilled into her fur, blackening small patches, making the room stink with the smell of burning. Her hands and arms to the elbow went numb; the shoulder relaxed and one leg buckled under her. The black haired guard shifted his grip, using his gloves to paralyze her other arm and leg. She dropped to the floor, desperately trying to retain bladder control. She knew that if she pissed herself, they wouldn't clean the cell for days.

Dazed, she didn't resist as they attached a short leash to her collar. One jerked the collar, pulling her to her knees, and then pushed her snout against the other's shoes. She couldn't tell for sure which it was.

"Lick, bitch!" the command was hissed into her ear. "Show respect!"

She gritted her teeth.

"LICK!" he roared, before yanking her head back with the collar and then shoving it, hard, onto the floor.

The impact stunned her as he pulled her into a headlock, and used his other hand to force her mouth open. The other, the blond, dropped to one knee and smiled at her as he pushed the gag into her mouth, the tip pressing against the back of her throat, then tightened her muzzle so her teeth gripped the dildo, locking it in place. There was a hole bored the length of it; she could still breathe through her mouth.

"Ready to shift her arms?"

"Sure. I've got her left."

Her arms were still numb and useless as they unbuckled the chain and reattached it, wrists behind her. They put a longer chain between her ankles, and the dark haired guard was about to release the shorter chain when the blond shook his head. "Hold on."

"She can't walk with the short chain," he said.

She was on her back, wrists behind her, crossed beneath the small of her back. This arched her spine, thrusting her breasts towards them. The blond stroked his chin for a moment, thoughtfully, and then smiled in a way that made her shudder.

"Ever see a sweeter rack on a fox before?" he asked. "I'm thinking the milk bar's open."

The dark haired man shrugged. "Too big. I like the black one. Hers are shaped better, and they're firmer." He poked one of her breasts casually with his foot, making it bounce. "Doggie here has balloon tits."

The rage in Firefox exploded. Bad enough they were doing this to her, but the thought these human monkeys were subjecting her friends to the same treatment was intolerable. Firefox glared at him, squirmed, and struggled, unsuccessfully, to curse him. The gag choked her words, turned them into mewling.

"You hear her say something?" the dark haired man asked.

"Yeah," the blond agreed. "She said, 'Please jerk off between my tits.'"

The black haired guard chucked. "Man, I can't get it up, not after the train that other fox pulled. Can you?"

She stared at him. She was in a cell with men who had gang-raped one of her friends, and she couldn't do anything about it. She didn't even know which one they had violated.

"I'm gonna try. Hell, she's a guest and all."

"You're a true gentleman. Let's hook her feet to the wall."

Firefox tried to struggle, but her legs didn't move. They were limp as a rag doll's as they tugged her over to a wall (her sore ass protested, helplessly; her tail bent wrong and she flinched), threaded the short chain through a loop, and snapped it shut. The blond lay down next to her, and his hand went to her breast.

The silver of his shock glove glittered in the light. She could sense the capacitor charging. She squirmed, afraid.

He was about to touch it when he looked at her. "You want me to take the glove off?" he asked. "Just nod if you want me to take the glove off."

Damn him. Damn him for asking her. How she wished he had simply taken off his glove and groped her without demanding permission she would never, never give. Her ears flattened and her eyes narrowed. She knew what was coming. He straddled her, sitting on her rib cage, staring at her breasts. She saw her nipples darken and stiffen, from tension and fear.

"Voltage low. Shock." The potential changed in his gloves, and she could sense it, just as she could have seen the tip of a branding iron glow red. He lowered his gloved hands to her breasts.

Even with the voltage low, the pain was excruciating as he groped her breasts, pushing them together, and apart, squeezing them, rubbing them together, playing with them. She couldn't suppress a series of low moans, squirming under him, knowing that it looked like she was in ecstasy. It felt strangely impersonal. She might as well be meat to him. He no more cared if she felt pleasure than he cared if a toilet was thirsty.

When his finger flicked over her nipples, she screamed outright, even with the gag choking her voice. He laughed, and he did it again and again, until she was grateful for the gag, knowing it was all that kept her from begging him to stop, from offering to fuck him empty if he would just stop shocking her.

When it finally stopped, she felt genuine relief, and even gratitude as he powered down his gloves.

He took the gloves off, and played with her breasts some more. There was some pain when he touched a sore spot, but it was still pleasurable compared to what had just ended. She breathed deeply, and even sighed as his fingers pinched her sore nipples, played with her studs. Her breasts had always been very sensitive.

"Look at her nips. Hard as rubber erasers. You really get off on this, don't you?" He reached back. She couldn't cross her legs, but she pressed her thighs together, uselessly; he forced his hand between her legs, and felt all around her mons, the thin fur there still wet and matted from when she had touched herself, ran a finger across her clitoris, twisted the stud slightly, sending a shiver that convulsed her whole body. "What a little slut you are. Can't wait till you're tamed properly."

He slid down abruptly, and for a moment she thought he was about to whip it out and try to rape her. Instead, he lowered his mouth to her nipples, sucking and licking at one while toying with the other. She moaned when his teeth clamped on them, from pleasure as much as from pain.

"Enough, already," he said, voice suddenly hoarse. "My turn."

He got to his feet and slowly undid his belt, and she genuinely wished he would play with her breasts longer. Anything to put this off.

He stepped out of his pants, undoing snaps at the cuffs so he didn't need to remove his shoes. He wore a jockstrap, which he pushed down. His cock swung out, big and stiff as the one she drank from.

"Like it, doggie? You want me to put this where it'll do you some good?"

She closed her eyes and looked away as he laughed at her and sat on her ribs again. She felt it between her breasts, felt him push them together, knew how good the soft fur and softer breasts were on his penis. She lifted her head, and involuntarily sniffed. She could smell Technofox on him. Technofox was straight as an arrow, like Shadowfox; Firefox had never made love with the shy, nervous, energetic little engineer. But these men, and how many others, had stood in line and raped her as she was chained to a bed. Firefox felt her eyes fill with tears. She would gladly take ten men in a row, any way they ordered, and lick them clean afterwards to keep one from raping Technofox.

"You want it so bad you're crying for it, aren't you?" he cooed, and pinched her nipple. She glared at him, and she had never hated so strongly before.

He started to thrust his hips. She struggled, helpless to even turn over, as he pumped at her, faster and faster, each thrust knocking the wind out of her. She realized, suddenly, he was timing himself to land just as she tried to breathe in; even here, even while masturbating, maximizing her discomfort, demonstrating her helplessness, proving it was for him each time his ass forced her air back out. Incredibly, she found herself watching his cock, fascinated, as it vanished between her breasts and reappeared, a pink snake thrusting between pillow-white furred breasts. Come on me, she found herself wishing, in time to his thrusts. Come. Come. She wished she could extend her tongue, to catch his ejaculation. She imagined it dripping on her tongue and shivered with pleasure. Come. Come.

Her breasts and butt were sore, she was having trouble breathing, and she was sure it was her pain and discomfort that goaded him on, that he was thinking of how he was making her suffer when he finally, finally came on her.

It wasn't a copious ejaculation, it was at least his second of the day. He squirted between her breasts, and she felt some land as far up as her collarbone. He exhaled, deeply, shaking with pleasure. He smiled down at her and patted the side of her face. She was silent, shocked at her excitement. She wasn't into this!

Was she?

"Good girl," he said. He reached into a pocket, took out a small chocolate wrapped in foil, pulled the wrapping off. The smell hit her like a hammer; her mouth filled with drool and her eyes locked onto the candy. He tossed it into a corner. "You get that tonight."

Something to look forward to. Again, she felt gratitude, followed by anger and shame. She wanted the chocolate desperately, but she knew that eating it would drop her to the level of the cheapest whore imaginable, sex for candy.

They put a belt on her, red leather, matching her collar and the bands around her ankles and wrists. They undid her feet from the wall, disconnected the short chain between her ankles, leaving them attached by the foot-long chain.

"Fair warning," the black-haired one said. "Your leash shocks when it's pulled. Stand up."

She could sense the electric potential in the handle of the leash; she didn't need to be told. She wondered if that meant they didn't know she could sense magnetic fields.

"Hold on," the blond interrupted. "Give her a minute. Let her bask in the afterglow."

As though there were an afterglow from having someone ejaculate on you. Actually, she was shaken from being slammed around, and now her ribs hurt where he had ridden her. She honestly wasn't sure she could stand. Slowly, she got to her feet. The black haired guard looked away to open the inner door. She usually watched attentively, to see if she could figure out the trick to that.

It got worse.

She noticed the smell of the semen that was soaking into the fur between her breasts. Even over the chocolate. And she craved it. She imagined herself licking it off, swallowing it, fingering it and slipping it between her legs; and it seemed so right she should do that, that every drop was a precious and delicious nectar she had to take into herself. Again, she was glad for the gag. Without it, she knew she would lick herself clean, even as the blond man watched and laughed at her. The door to the cell opened, sliding into the wall. Without warning, he stepped forward, and she had to scramble to keep up. They would be perfectly willing to drag her by the leash, kicking and shocking her with every step. They had once.

They were probably taking her to the bathroom and then back to her cell. She had mixed feelings about that. If they took her somewhere else, then she could add more of the facility to her mental map. But if they took her somewhere else, it would be to work her over some more.

She walked between them, the black haired man in front with the leash, and the blond behind her. When the door to the cell closed, they waited in the small enclosure. The blond had put his gloves back on, and he took the opportunity to stroke her buttocks, and run a finger over and around her vagina from behind. She knew how it would feel if he turned the shock on, so she ignored him.

The second door, the door to the corridor, was made of bars and swung out into the corridor. There was a sign and number by the barred door: Solitary 103. Was that 1 a level number, or were there over one hundred solitary cells in this ... facility, base, whatever it was? She listened intently, took a deep breath, and screamed as loudly as she could.

There were four other cells in the corridor, and a good chance another of the Four was in one or the other; she had to let them know she was there, even if there was nothing they could do about it. They promptly tripped her, throwing her to the floor. Before she could get her balance, the black haired man slapped her across the face, hard, five times. She bit hard on the gag to keep from crying out in pain, expecting them to jerk the leash and let the current flow.

"Hope you're as loud when you're a locomotive," the black haired man said calmly, steering her to the bathroom. Again, she felt absurd relief: they could have shocked her, but didn't.

The black haired man pushed her through the door. "Shit and shower, eight minutes. Not fifteen, not today. We have to make up for you falling on your ass every other step." Usually, they let her hands free in there.

They stood on either side of her as she used the toilet. She wasn't sure if they were enjoying that particular kink, or if they were just looking at a naked, bound woman. The toilet was a relief, but with her hands still locked behind her back she couldn't wipe herself. She stood and took a step towards the shower. She couldn't even operate it. One of them tripped her.

They made no attempt to catch her or soften her fall, and the tile floor was hard. "You forgot to wipe," the blond said amiably. The black haired man pushed her head down with her foot. "Let me," said the blond, taking sheets of paper, and sitting on her back so hard she grunted.

He wrapped paper around two fingers, and pushed them into her anus. She squirmed and struggled, clenched her sphincter to keep him out, but he pushed them into her regardless as she batted him uselessly with her tail. He slipped them in and out, in and out, and then finally out. He tossed the paper into the toilet.

"Now lift your ass a little so I can clean your pussy. Do it, or I'll turn the shock on and do it anyway. I changed the paper so you have nothing to complain about."

Firefox gritted her teeth. The floor was cold against her breasts, and her sore nipples. And, for the first time in the weeks she had been there, she obeyed.

He hummed softly, as he stroked all around her pubes -- and then slipped fingers inside of her.

"Good girl," he said as she bucked. "It's funny," he reflected. "You chimera have fur all over your body, thick, except right where humans have hair." She jumped as he dipped a finger into her wet vagina, and slicked the lube over her clitoris. "The fur's thin over your nipples, too -- but we have to keep that trimmed so you show them off to anyone who looks at you. Not over your pubes. There's something exciting about that, the pink lips showing in your white fur."

As he spoke, he was masturbating her, casually. Mount me, she thought. Put it into me. Come into me. The thought made her tremble. What was wrong with her?

"God, I can't wait to feel you from the inside. If you're half as sweet as your friends, you're a better fuck than most of the human type slaves we keep here. That little bitch, the one with glasses, what's her name? Tighter than a drum, so eager to please she was pulling me deeper in even though she was sore and crying."

Firefox could imagine it, Technofox so frightened into co-operation that she'd fake excitement. The warm pleasure that had started gathering in her groin stopped abruptly, and she hissed and dropped her hips down, gritted her teeth and waited for the pain.

Because, suddenly, she realized it didn't matter what she did or didn't do. She wasn't there for sex, they had her there to suffer. If they weren't beating her for failing to crawl and lick, they'd beat her for failing to open her legs on command; if she opened her legs on command, they'd beat her for not trying hard enough.

"Time's up," the black haired guard said, looking at his watch.

Firefox closed her eyes and sighed with relief. Someone kicked her on the rump.

"You've got nothing to be happy about, doggie. In an hour, you'll wish I had all day with you," said the blond.

They didn't trip her for the rest of the walk. They were going somewhere new. Despite her fear, Firefox memorized the corridors and doors. There were automatic gates every few meters, opening and closing behind them automatically. If power were cut, would they lock shut or open? They passed rooms with labels. Bedroom 114. VR 108. Studio 116. The "1" had to be a level number.

"We have house rules here," the blond said amiably. "They're kind of informal, but they work for us. You don't beat a girl when someone's cock's in her, or if she's licking one of the women. So, that means you had better hope he doesn't get off before he sees you. It'll take him time to get it up, and he's gonna use that time profitably." They stopped in front of a room. Torment 102. It flew open.

Suddenly, things started happening very fast.

Crack. The sound of a whip on flesh followed by a choked, muffled shriek. The black haired guard turned and grabbed Firefox under her armpits. The blond lifted her by the ankles. They carried her a few meters, lowered her gently to the tile floor.

Crack. The whip, followed by a short, feral yelp and a canid whine. Firefox's ears perked. Another chimera? One of her friends? They quickly pushed her ankles up to the small of her back, and got to work, attaching, reattaching.

Crack. A soft, canid howl and a whimper. Firefox sniffed. It was Silverfox. Unmistakably. She lifted her head to look around; a kick slammed it against the floor and dazed her. They were working on her wrists, now.

Crack. Another cry, like a whipped dog. And Firefox realized her left leg and arms were free.

Crack. Howl. Firefox rolled. The blond was thrown off. The black haired guard was running to the wall. Her arms weren't free. A cable was attached to each.

Crack. Yip. There was a whirring sound, fast, and Firefox was hauled up. She looked at the ceiling; the cables on her wrists were being retracted upwards. She got her left foot under her, gritted her teeth, and prepared to be lifted off the floor. It didn't happen. She was left with enough slack to stand, arms almost straight up, right ankle up against her butt.

Crack. She was up high enough to see, now. Silverfox was facing her, half standing, half leaning on a waist-high framework, a set of stocks made for someone already wearing a collar and wrist bands. Silverfox's beautiful face was grimacing in pain, her long white hair over each shoulder, baring her back to the whip. Her coat was a rich, thick and beautiful silvery gray. Her breasts bounced, naked, as she breathed in sharp gasps. Oddly, that was the most jarring part. Silverfox's breasts were just the size for a handful, longer than they were wide. Firefox had seen them bounce with joy many times; now they seemed agonized.

Silverfox wore a short skirt, and the inevitable bands on wrists, ankles, neck. Her eyes were unfocused, looking beyond Firefox, as though she didn't register. There was a fan blowing air from Silverfox to Firefox. That might explain it. Silverfox didn't perceive the world the same way as humans. It took an effort to look and see; unless she caught Firefox's scent, she might not be aware her friend was there. And she was being flogged.

Crack. Firefox flinched. She had slept with Silverfox many times, generally between boyfriends and the occasional girlfriend. She associated Silverfox's nude body with pleasure, warmth, affection, and seeing it suffer this way was horrible. The blow slammed Silverfox against the stocks, chrome metal bar striking her sweet breasts, face contorted with agony, gritting teeth in an unsuccessful attempt to keep from howling. She shifted herself back up, braced for another blow, lifted her hand and wiped her nose before returning it to the stocks.

Silverfox wasn't bound to the stocks.

Firefox looked at her ankles. They were free as well. No leash.

Silverfox wasn't bound at all!

Firefox's hackles rose, in fear.

The man, a human, behind Silverfox was big, with long red hair, nearly reaching his shoulders. He was stripped to the waist, wearing the same loose pants as the guards, but no shoes. He was big, solid, muscular; there was a slight sheen of sweat on his arms and shoulders, sweat from the exertion of whipping Firefox's lover and friend.

Firefox actually forgot she was bound when she jumped for him. She jumped twice, each time, swinging back helplessly by her wrists, too angry to feel pain, screaming in rage. Helplessly, she dangled from the ceiling, chewing angrily on the fake penis in her mouth, pretending it was his.

"That's all," he said, and patted Silverfox on the head, as though he was comforting a dog. "Good girl."

Silverfox slipped to the floor, exhausted. She wasn't tied! She accepted it! Silverfox rested her head along his thigh, and breathed deeply through her mouth, eyes closed. Grateful it had stopped. He looked over to Firefox, and then over to the guards. "Thank you. You're dismissed."

Firefox didn't see them go out. She watched Silverfox. Silverfox looked over in her direction, recognized her, looked away uncomfortably. Silverfox knelt down, touched her breasts to the floor, and ran her tongue over his foot. Then she reached up, and wordlessly undid his pants, pulling them down off his hips. He turned to face her. She slid down his jockstrap, rubbed her face gently against his erection.

Firefox watched, incredulous. Silverfox is gay, she thought, unbelieving. But she's not ... she's not enjoying herself, is she?

He looked down at her. "Hungry, pretty girl?"

She looked up at him. "Yes, Master." She licked her lips with the tip of her tongue, looked at his penis. "Will Master let me have some dessert?" Her voice definitely had a capital letter.

"Not yet," he told her.

"Master's cruel," she complained, eyes still on his erection.

He coiled his whip, passing it to his left hand. He stroked her head, skritching behind her ears, making her close her eyes with pleasure. "Later, pretty girl. Be good today, and I'll let you set the pace later."

She smiled, and licked his hand as he pulled his pants back up.

Firefox felt fear, real fear, for the first time. She could understand if Silverfox was acting, simply going through the motions to prevent more whipping. But she had the terrible, terrible feeling that Silverfox was in earnest, that her going down on him was a reward for accepting the whip, instead of something she did to avoid more whip. And if Silverfox was doing that, then Firefox would be as well.

"You know that bitch?" he asked suddenly, pointing to Firefox with the whip. Silverfox looked up.

"Yes, Master. She's Firefox, one of the Foxforce Four. She's a weapons expert, a combat sharpshooter and sniper, Master."

"Very good. Now, then, pretty girl, I'm going to beat her and fuck her. You're going to help me. Aren't you?" he asked, sharply.

Silverfox looked up at Firefox, miserably.

Firefox's eyes slid over the walls. There were whips and paddles, clamps, dildos, lengths of chain, devices she couldn't recognize; black leather and spikes. Tables, benches, racks, stocks, to bind a woman standing, prone, supine, on her knees, in every imaginable posture. And she was sure that most had been used on Silverfox to get her to this state. Firefox tried to stay angry, but she couldn't. She wished she could speak. It's okay. I forgive you. It's all right, love. Do what he tells you. Maybe her eyes told Silverfox. Maybe it made Silverfox braver for a moment.

"You're raping her, Master?" she asked, a slight tremor in her voice.

"You know better than that," he said, disapprovingly.

She lowered herself to the floor, squirmed at his feet, licked his instep. "Sorry, Master. Only free women have the right to say no. There is no rape here. Only disobedient slaves, Master."

There was something desperate in her voice. And Firefox hated him for the kindness and disappointment in his voice, when he said, "That was very bad of you. I should give you to a guard. But if you work hard for the rest of the day, I'll overlook it."

Silverfox brightened. "Thank you, Master." He patted her head, and she licked his hand again.

She followed him over to Firefox. He kept his eyes on Firefox, and handed the whip to Silverfox. "Oil it while I explain things," he ordered.

Silverfox hesitated, and took the whip. She then dropped her skirt and stepped out of it, eyes modestly down. She had no panties. The skirt could be lifted away for access, no matter how she was bound. She touched the faint pink line fuzzily visible under the thin fur between her legs; Firefox wondered if she would ever be able to look at Silverfox's lovely groin again without remembering this moment -- Silverfox started running the whip between her legs, over her clitoris to insure the flow, making the leather damp as the man spoke to Firefox.

"Briefly, you are now the property of Blue Diamond, a slave brothel. You are here to obey and make us a profit. You will call me 'Master.' You will call the guards 'Sir,' or 'Ma'am.' If I rent you out, you will be told what to call the man or woman you are servicing. We've met a few times over the past weeks," he said affably, as Firefox's eyes bored into him, and her hackles rose softly, with rage. "The video of that blindfolded maze game is one of our most popular downloads. Women can watch it with a vibrator synchronized to the one you were enjoying. I'm telling you that because I want to make it clear that you can co-operate and make us money, or you can resist, and make us money." " He took a pack of cards out of his pants pocket, and held up the three of clubs.

It was a picture of her, hands digging into her crotch, sucking on the water dispenser. Her back was to the camera but the curves of her breasts still showed. She looked away.

"It doesn't have to be bad here for you. There is a very good chance that whatever you were thinking at that moment can come through for you. We cater to a large, eclectic collection of clients. For every man who wants to rent you for a night and listen to you tell him he's the best fuck you've had, there's another who wants you tied to a table and cursing him with every thrust. Tell us what you want, and we'll try to accommodate you if you co-operate."

Bastard.

"Now normally, I'd tell you that if you're a smart girl, you can actually get by without being beaten." Here he suddenly put a hand on her crotch, and slipped a fingertip in before she twisted away from him. He smiled, sardonically, and slapped her across the face. Silverfox looked up, hesitated, and then looked down again and kept working on the whip. He licked his finger. "That you can control how often you're beaten. Unfortunately," and here he sighed with mock sympathy, "unfortunately I'm not as free with you or the rest of Foxforce Four as I am with the other slaves. When I bought you, one of the conditions was that you get ten a day, with a whip or riding crop." He pointed to Silverfox. "Silverfox was getting her daily ration when you came in. It was not a punishment." Silverfox refused to lift her eyes, and continued working the whip between her legs.

"Now, there are certain rules. The benevolent state does not allow me to do anything I want with you. Even a half-fox slave has some rights." He smiled as her ears flattened. "Shake your head if you do not understand, or if you want me to repeat myself.

"You may not be whipped more than fifty strokes in a day, or two hundred in a week. Your daily ration is included in that. Guards defending themselves, however, are not." He grabbed one of her breasts and let her struggle, smiling. Silverfox gritted her teeth but didn't speak, or slow down with the whip.

"You have a right to one liter of clean, potable water a day, for drinking. We don't limit you to that. The dispenser in your cell delivers 500cc of water each time it's, er, activated." He smiled pleasantly. "It's not rationed. You can have as much as you want. If you'd like to see more of the pictures on our website, I'd be glad to show them." He smiled again and she growled.

"You have a right to adequate food, served at least once a day. The guards may choose to withhold specific meals, but your next meal will make up for that. We don't want you getting a gut, but we don't want these," he squeezed, "shrinking either." She tried to squirm away, realized it was only exciting him more.

"You have a right to reasonable medical care. Since you're a chimera, you get to see a vet every week. You'll be well checked for STDs, and it's in our interest to keep you as clean as we can." Here, he sighed. "We don't want to hurt you, not permanently. We do not do mutilation here. Be a good girl, and you'll be well cared for. Pampered." He looked up and down her body, and smiled. "You're a magnificent animal. I look forward to your co-operation. In all honesty, I'd rather have you in my bed willingly than tied down. But either way, I will have you."

Somehow, she suspected, he was lying about preferring her there willingly. If he didn't enjoy rape, he would just use Silverfox.

"You have a right to clothes. The rules don't define clothes." He jerked her collar. "That's your wardrobe.

"Finally, you have a right to one fifteen minute shower a week, with soap, and hot water. Again, we generally exceed this." He grabbed her chin, forced her to look at him. "I want you clean, your fur soft and brushed, smelling only of your own musk. You will care for yourself or I will chain you spread eagled and rent out curry combs. Is this clear?"

It took an effort of will to keep her eyes on him, narrowed, trying to send her message telepathically.

I'm not reconciled to this. I'm still going to kill you.

"Pretty girl," he said to Silverfox, "That's enough. I'll take that, now. Move her hair over her shoulders. Expose her back for me." Reluctantly, Silverfox handed him the whip, and stood in front of her. She took a handful of Firefox's hair and, without meeting her eyes, moved it over Firefox's shoulder. Suddenly, her nostrils flared, and she looked intently at the hair in her hand. She sniffed again, hesitated, and held it to her nose, and inhaled deeply, eyes closed.

She bit the hair, sucked on it briefly, then, without meeting Firefox's eyes, sniffed and turned to stare between Firefox's breasts. She was intimately familiar with them, but there was no recognition there; she plunged her muzzle between Firefox's breasts, started licking. Tentatively, at first, then hungrily, even greedily, like a starving cat lapping up milk. She gripped Firefox's breasts, pushed them apart to move her tongue in closer.

There was something frightening about it, strangely impersonal. Silverfox was licking intently around Firefox's breasts, but she might as well have been lapping at a plate. Silverfox made no attempt at sensuality, at giving Firefox any pleasure at all. Her fingers were on her nipples, but she wasn't playing with them. Strangely, Firefox felt resentful -- as though Silverfox was stealing something from her.

Master -- Firefox thought the world, kicked herself, but couldn't rename him, not even in her private thoughts -- Master noticed Silverfox's activities, and chuckled. "I thought you smelled like cat spray," he said to Firefox. "Having a little fun with a guard. That's okay, we encourage that. Hope you at least got a chocolate out of it. The going rate's a pack of cigarettes or a chocolate bar for a good, co-operative titty fuck. And you've sure got the equipment for it." He slapped her on the ass, affectionately, and looked over at Silverfox. "It's okay, pretty girl," he said, and she looked up, guiltily. "Have some fun. We've got all day with her."

He poked Firefox again. "She used to be close-minded about men, but we got her over that," he said. "She's properly enthusiastic now. Just look at her lick it up. Shadowfox and Technofox are working on oral sex with women. They've got a while to go before they like women as much as Silverfox now likes men. You're a lucky girl. You swing both ways, so we don't have to break you to equipment you don't like."

Firefox barely heard him; she was watching Silverfox, worried. It was hardly likely Silverfox had been carefully concealing a semen fetish all this time. This was more like a mania state. Something induced by conditioning, strong enough to overcome Silverfox's total disinterest in men.

And she shuddered, and she realized they had also been conditioning her. It would explain what she had been feeling. She had a good sex life with men, and had never been particularly squeamish or found come "icky" the way some women did. She had licked it up when it spilled, because she knew her lovers liked that. It was part of play, not something she had to do. She had never been fascinated by it, she would not have imagined she would crave it, regardless of who spilled it. Even ignoring that they were forcing her into it, she was not reacting the way she normally did. And Silverfox -- well, Silverfox almost seemed addicted.

So she and Silverfox were being conditioned, like Pavlov's dogs. They were making them crave sperm. But how? How are they rewarding us?

After a few minutes, Firefox could scent that she was quite clean. Silverfox, however, kept going after she obviously wasn't getting any more, and the fur between Firefox's breasts was clean and damp after Silverfox's enthusiastic tongue bath. Why prolong it? -- To give Master less time. Silverfox was stalling for her.

Firefox sighed softly, started, guiltily, as though she hadn't done it intentionally. She hated the idea of giving a girl-on-girl show, but every minute they could keep him watching was a minute he wasn't using the whip or thrusting into her. Silverfox played it up, squeezing or lifting Firefox's breasts, while Firefox pretended pleasure.

Soon, though, she didn't have to pretend. Every touch of Silverfox's beloved, familiar hands and claws was like a healing salve, incapable of causing pain, even over nipples sore from shocking. Firefox closed her eyes so she wouldn't see Master watching them, shifting his jockstrap over his erection. Silverfox began licking her nipples, lightly, and immediately Firefox knew they had overplayed.

"That's enough, pretty girl," he ordered. "She needs her daily ration. Get her hair over her shoulders."

He walked around her, with the whip. With a silent apology, Silverfox moved her hair out of the way. Firefox waited for the lash, heart leaden. He embraced her from behind, hands squeezing her breasts, one holding a whip, cock hard in the crack of her ass.

Slavery was different in every culture that practiced it. Yet all had one thing in common: the whip. After the first blow, Firefox understood why.

With the first, high on her shoulders, she drove her claws into her palm, almost breaking the skin. The impact lifted her and threw her forward, not from mass or momentum, but because every muscle and nerve fled it, as instinctively as she would avoid a fire. Biting on the gag made it better, she knew; she couldn't imagine what it would be like without it.

The second lash crossed the first, and she screamed helplessly, louder than she imagined she could. Eight more, ten every day no matter what I do, oh God, I can't bear this -- her tail raised, involuntarily, to cover her back, maybe to invite him into her.

"Pretty girl, over here," he ordered. "Hold her tail down."

Silverfox held her tail down firmly, as the third, fourth, and fifth strokes hit her. And she knew how much he had to enjoy it, watching a bound, naked, defenseless woman squirming under the lash. She knew her breasts leapt and bounced with each blow, that tears were soaking into her fur. He paused, rested a hand against her, and she shuddered.

"In front of her, now," he ordered. Silverfox tried hard not to look at Firefox. He grabbed Firefox's tail and pushed it up and around. "Hold this," he ordered. "I'm going to give her buttocks a workout."

Each blow drove her forward, against Silverfox. After the second, Silverfox nestled against her, trembling, yet somehow pouring love and life back into Firefox, even as she held her tail to expose Firefox's naked ass to Master's whip. He missed once, clipping her right ankle instead of landing on her rump; it was agonizing, yet she was exhilarated that Master had missed.

She had lost count, but she heard the whip land on a table. He walked in front of her, looked at Silverfox. "Kneel, girl," he ordered curtly. He put his arms on his hips. "Get her wet for me. You have five minutes."

Immediately, obediently, Silverfox began lapping at Firefox's pubes. He grabbed Firefox's chin. "You will remember this forever," he promised her. "You're no virgin. Maybe you even like bondage. Maybe you've been a slut for the guards. God knows I've seen you come often enough, in person, on video. But this is going to be the first time your owner's taken you as a slave. Just remember that if it feels good, it's because you were born to service your owner. I've tamed and trained hundreds of slaves, and I've never seen a woman come more easily than you. This is your place. Accept it." He touched her pubes. "Wet enough, pretty girl. Step back." He opened his pants.

His cock lifted her up and back, a thrust so sudden and unexpected she yelped. There was no foreplay, none of the breast or nipple sucking she had expected. She squirmed, trying to fight, but he clutched her tight and pushed her head against his so hard she couldn't move it. Silverfox knelt, watching, unwilling to intervene. Fascinated.

He nestled his groin against Firefox's, wiggling, as though teasing her with the fact he was all the way in. She was so wet, so ready, he had slipped easily in with one thrust, She knew her eyes were half closed, and not with anger.

Slowly, he started to move inside her. She knew she shouldn't feel this way, that it was wrong, but he was good. She sighed, she knew it was with a sort of languid pleasure, and she hoped he would misinterpret it. No. She couldn't do this, couldn't simply let him use her like this. She moved her hips out of time, to try to get him to fall out; but she couldn't move her hips far enough, and he seemed aware of how she was about to move, he moved his hips with her, always keeping his tip inside of her no mater how far he pulled out.

Her nipples were hard against his chest, and with a few thrusts, she realized she had lost every pretense; her breath hissed into his ear, she moaned with each deep thrust, and she knew that he, that anyone watching, would know that she was making love to him as ferociously as he was violating her. He nibbled her neck, and she had a mental image of herself, third person, tied and used against her will but nevertheless squirming with pleasure; she came, she came violently, and an instant later, he grunted, moaned, and squirted into her.

Oh, God, it was sweet. Conditioning or not, it was sweet. She could feel what she craved splash into her, flowing into her hungry womb. She lifted herself up by her wrists, So she could wrap her left leg around him, hold her closer inside her, while she used the strong muscles inside her to squeeze every drop out of his penis. The same muscle was used to was her tail; it was much stronger than in any human woman. Shameless as an animal, she forced her tongue out around the gag and licked his face.

Slowly, slowly, he pulled out from her. Silverfox knelt to lick up what dripped out. Firefox envied her.

"That was good," he said.

There was no point in denying it. She nodded, eyes still half closed, and nestled against him.

A moment later, he stepped slightly away. Silverfox licked and sucked him clean. He loosened Firefox's muzzle, pulled out the dildo and tossed it to the floor. Immediately, she slipped her tongue into his mouth, kept it there as he kissed her. He broke the kiss.

"Here's what we can do now," he said softly. "We can go to a bedroom. You'll be restrained. Then we can spend the rest of the day getting to know each other better. Or, you can spend the day getting to know those --" he pointed to the whips and paddles "-- those, better. I know what you want. You know what you want. All you have to do is say, 'Master, take me to your bed.'" His hand slid over her breasts.

She closed her mouth, and fell silent.

"All you have to do," he said uncertainly, "is nod."

"I'm Foxforce Four," she said. "I'm going to send you to hell."

He nodded. "Give that to me," he ordered. Silverfox handed him the dildo they had used as a gag. She let him put it in her mouth; she was worried about biting her tongue.

Firefox felt Silverfox's tongue lap at her, around and first, and then inside. He walked over to the wall, removed a Lucite cane, transparent. He swung it, and the wind roared.

"Let's try this next," he said amiably.

She barely heard him toss the cat-o-nine-tails onto the table. Her leg was too weak to hold herself up any longer, and she had lost count. She forced herself to think. Whip, cane, riding crop, paddle, cat. How many is that?

"That's enough for today," he said, turning around.

Five. Five times ten is ... add a zero. Fifty. Her ears lifted. Fifty. Fifty a day, two hundred a week. He vanished behind her, and she was lowered slowly to the floor. "Pretty girl," he ordered, "stand clear. She's going to take a nap."

How many strokes can he give me each day in a week? She wondered. Fifty, fifty, fifty, twenty, ten, ten, ten makes two hundred in seven days. Two more days he can give me fifty. I can't bear it. I can't bear it.

She felt an electric potential glow at her neck.

The world turned off.

Firefox woke to the sounds and smells of lovemaking. She was tied down on a soft mattress, wrists above her head, ankles spread, vagina open. Pneumatic mattress, she didn't hear springs squeaking or feel their magnetic field as the bed bounced in that primal, unmistakable rhythm. Her wrists and ankles were secured so she occupied the middle of a bed that was more than king sized. Silk sheets.

Next to her, Silverfox was riding Master. He was naked, she only wore her straps. His hands stroked her breasts, pinched and twisted her nipples. Her eyes closed as he thrust into her, opened as she rode up and he withdrew, barely keeping his tip inside her.

Silverfox glanced over at Firefox, smiled slightly. What was that smile? Pleasure Firefox was alright? A strange pride at what she was doing? Silverfox was beautiful. So beautiful, and so obviously enjoying herself that Firefox suddenly felt embarrassed. Silverfox wasn't simply servicing her master -- no, Silverfox wasn't being forced to submit. Firefox felt as though she was intruding.

She forced herself to look around the room. It was elegant, almost painfully so; dark wood, beautiful furniture, paneling, so different from the plastic and tile she had seen everywhere else. Electric wires in the walls; nothing strange or unusual.

Her back and her butt weren't sore at all. Trauma drugs, she realized. The gag was gone, but the muzzle was tighter; she couldn't open her mouth wide enough to bite.

Silverfox cried out, and changed her pacing. Firefox didn't have to look around to know he had just come into her. Firefox looked back; they were cuddling, she was rubbing herself sensually against him, shamelessly as though the three of them were lovers, and not two women victimized by a slaver.

"Thank you, Master," Silverfox said. "Master's good to me."

It was too much. "You must be proud of yourself," Firefox said sarcastically. "Curing lesbianism."

"It's not a question of curing it," he said, stroking Silverfox's fur as she savored his touch. "It's a matter of making her more comfortable in her new role in life." He touched Silverfox's chin and she opened her eyes. "Remember the first times you were used by a man, and you got sick enough to throw up? Did you prefer that?"

Silverfox froze. "I don't like what you did to me, Master," she said. "I liked who I was. And now -- and now... it hurts if I don't have sex." She looked away, uncomfortably. He took her chin in his hand, forced her to look at him.

"Leave her alone, you son of a bitch!" Firefox hissed.

He ignored her, and kissed Silverfox on the forehead. "It's okay," he said. "You're a good girl anyway." He looked over at Firefox. "I should flog you for that," he said calmly.

"You gave me fifty today," Firefox said.

"Yes," he admitted. "Congratulations. You're the first woman who took fifty and still won't address me respectfully. But there's tomorrow. And the day after that."

"Master," Silverfox interrupted. "Master, please. She's new. She didn't understand. She was afraid for me." Silverfox sat up, squirmed playfully. He was still inside her. "Master will forgive her, for me?"

"I don't know," he said to her, a slight grin. "What will you do for me?"

She hesitated. "I'll give a show for Master's guests tonight. Ten strokes."

"The hell you will," Firefox said, helplessly. The thought of Silverfox volunteering to take ten lashes for something Firefox had said tore her heart out.

"It's not what you think," Silverfox said rapidly, before Master could talk. "It's just a show. It's acting. Really. With a felt whip."

"A show?" Firefox asked, surprised. "This is a slave brothel and you give shows?"

"Yes. Stage shows, video, photography, strippers, topless geishas. And prostitution. There's a huge variety of career options in front of you." He looked at Silverfox. "And a shift as a footstool," Master said.

Silverfox hesitated. "And I'll work a shift as a footstool, Master."

Firefox looked at the wall miserably. She didn't know what Silverfox had just volunteered for, but she knew it was her fault, now. In an odd way, though, it was comforting. She might crawl and she might want men, but Silverfox was still Silverfox, even as the gray fox went down to lick and suck between his legs.

"Good girl. Get on the other side of the bed."

As Silverfox crawled over her, he lay on his side and studied Firefox. He started stroking her flat belly with his fingertips. "You said you were lovers, didn't you?"

Firefox looked at him sharply, wondering for a moment if he was addressing her. Silverfox nodded, relaxed. "Yes, Master. We lost our virginity together. We were using some lesbian porn for instructions. Anne Keller."

He laughed. "Really? I'll have to introduce you." Firefox blinked. She had heard that Anne Keller was a slave, and now that she thought of it, she was owned by Blue Diamond.

Firefox wished Silverfox wouldn't talk about their love life, or would at least lie. How could Silverfox share something that intimate with him? His hand moved up, lifted her breasts one at a time, lowered them. "How many people did she have when she was free?"

"Eight men, three women," Silverfox said promptly.

"Ten to go, then," he said. "It's sort of a watershed," he explained to Firefox. "When you realize that most of the men and women you've had have been using you as a slave. Sometimes, though, your clients will ask you how many have had you. Be vague, and exaggerate. Dozens, scores, hundreds." He lowered his head and sucked at her nipple for a moment. It sent pleasure flowing though her, and she felt it stiffen in his mouth. "They ask because they want to know you're a little whore." He looked at her steadily. "Tomorrow. Yes, tomorrow I'll rent you out by the quarter hour. It'll be good for you."

Firefox ground her teeth. He laughed. "You want to say something, don't you? But you don't want Silverfox to cover for you again." He patted the side of her head. "Is that how low you've sunk, already? Biting off the words, because you're afraid to say them. Oh, you're telling yourself it's for Silverfox's sake, aren't you? Isn't that a little convenient?" He shook his head. "Well, it doesn't really matter. You see, now we're just getting acquainted. I won't punish you for anything you say."

"What's the point of all this?" she asked. "What are you doing with us?"

He blinked. "As I said. You're in a slave brothel. You're going to be tamed, and trained. You'll be in films, photographs, live performances in front of an audience and with an audience of one."

"No. There's more to it than that," she said decisively.

He laughed. "I don't know if you overestimate yourself as a person, or underestimate yourself as a sex toy. Look at these," he said, brushing her breasts, "look at this," while touching her pubes. "Do I need more of a motive to tame you?"

He was lying, Firefox realized.

"Where are the others?" Firefox asked.

"Earning their room and board," he said. "The black one -- Shadowfox, her name used to be? She's an artist with her mouth. She's a footstool, chained on her knees in front of a comfortable armchair. And the scrawny little one's getting a lot of schoolgirl uniforms ripped off her. Funny. She still tries to cover herself." Firefox was about to say something, she didn't know what, when Silverfox intervened.

"Master," Silverfox said slowly, "Master, you shouldn't punish her with sex. Be patient with her and you'll make more off her."

He looked over at Silverfox. "What?"

Silverfox seemed to think, deeply for a moment. "Master, look at her body." She sat next to Firefox and massaged her breasts, pushing them together and letting them fall apart. "She's a special lady, Master, and you know it. You know how it felt inside her. She's too valuable to be giving five dollar blowjobs." She paused. "You know that anonymous porn doesn't sell as well as a star. Let the clients wait for her, Master. Use her for photos, but tease them with her. Put her on stage once or twice. Say she isn't for rent. Stick to that for a few months. Maybe rent her out, reluctantly, as a special favor to a special client. Don't over-expose her."

"Are you saying that for my profits, or because you know that'll be easier for her?" Master asked, darkly.

Firefox could feel Silverfox's hand tremble with fear. "She's my love," Silverfox said quietly. "But you know I'm right, Master. They will pay premium for this," she said, running a finger around Firefox's vagina. She patted his penis, and licked her hand. "My friend here knows how good she is."

"Hmm," he said thoughtfully. "I think there's something to what you say. I have to agree that I've never had a woman respond better while resisting." He looked at Firefox, propped himself up on one arm, and started stroking her while she squirmed. "You even came while being paddled."

Firefox looked away. Actually, she had masturbated against the table, but she didn't want him to know she had gone to those lengths to get the paddles to turn off.

He looked over at Silverfox. "Tell me what she likes."

"She likes having her breasts played with, and she likes being penetrated," Silverfox said immediately. "But she doesn't much care for toys."

"You fisted her?" he asked.

Firefox closed her eyes. "Yes, Master," Silverfox said, honestly.

He chuckled. "We need to get some pictures of that." He looked at Firefox. "She'll have to ask for lube, though." He smiled at her reaction. "You don't like that, do you? You'd rather have Silverfox fist you dry than ask me for lube, wouldn't you? Well, that's fine with me."

Silverfox hesitated. "Master, she would need to be very wet --"

"I don't particularly care if you rip the bitch in half," he said casually, and started stroking Firefox's head.

"Yes, Master," Silverfox agreed.

He leaned over, and tried to plant a kiss on Firefox. She struggled, and he quickly pinned her head down, kissed her ear, nibbled it and sucked at the tip. "We can discuss the details later," he said, suddenly reaching down for his penis. He grinned. "I guess a fox girl is like Chinese food," he said. "An hour later, you're hungry again." He got up from the bed and walked over to a door that had to lead to a bathroom.

Silverfox nestled against Firefox, stroking her breasts with one hand. "Silverfox," Firefox said, fighting to keep her voice level, "Not now --"

Silverfox ignored her, licked her ear.

"Don't react," Silverfox said, in a voice so low Firefox could barely hear her. "There's cameras, there's microphones."

Firefox closed her eyes. "Yes, love. I like that," she said, loud enough for the microphones.

An incredible sense of relief filled Firefox. It had been terrifying to think that Silverfox had been broken.

Silverfox whispered some more, nestling against her as though preparing to make love. "Technofox says they're using our neural links. They're --"

The door to the bathroom opened. Firefox looked at his cock, erect, swinging as he walked, his scrotum tight against his balls. He gestured and Silverfox moved away from her.

"Wait," Firefox said, as his tongue found her nipple. "I want to see my friends."

He looked up at her, bemused. He went to his knees on the bed, kneeling between her legs and looking down at her. "Out of solitary, the slaves bunk two to a cell. I can put you four in adjacent cells. But you have to earn your way out of solitary." he said.

"How do I do that?" she asked.

"You know."

"I'll ... I'll make love to you. All you want, all night, if you'll let me see my friends tomorrow. You can even untie me," she said steadily.

He shook his head. "Doggie, let me explain something in a language you will understand."

Before she could react, he pushed into her, a single, painful thrust with no attempt at spreading her lube as he pushed. The tip of his cock hit her cervix, and she cried out, and Silverfox suppressed a whimper. He was leaning on her now, face to face. "Do you understand?" he asked. "When we fuck and how often has nothing to do with what you want. You're a slave and until you admit it, you stay in solitary."

"Damn you to hell," she said sincerely, even as he was hard inside her, and she could feel herself warming to him, lubricating around him, muscles twitching in the most intimate embrace possible. "What do you want?"

"You know," he said, and kissed her.

Yes, she realized, she did know.

"Fuck me," she said, tightly.

"No," he said, shaking his head. "Something more creative."

"Make love to me. Come into me. Damn you, what do you want to hear?"

"You know."

She closed her eyes, and slowly opened them.

"Use me, Master," she said finally. "Master, I'm here for you. Please use me." She licked his ear, and the corner of his mouth.

He kissed her ear. "Good girl."

And when he began to move inside her, she had to pretend she wasn't enjoying it as much as he was. Silverfox watched them, and Firefox wasn't sure if her lover was sad or relieved.