FireFox

Chapter 2

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.

"See?" he asked, laying next to her, spent. "We're right where we would be if you had nodded, except you've had an extra forty lashes. Was it worth it?" She licked her lips and looked away, and he nuzzled her again.

Firefox wasn't sure how long she remained chained to his bed legs spread open to him. Hours, certainly.

He lay near her, arm over her possessively, half dozing. That wasn't bad. She lay as quietly as she could, hoping he would fall asleep. Then, after a short time -- how long? She would notice his cock moving against her hip as it grew erect.

Then he'd start stroking her, hands running lightly and gently through her fur. He would then mount her again, without a word, without even a pretence of asking permission. She would struggle, curse him, but everything she said seemed to make him more passionate. Each time he used her differently. First, cruelly, fast and deep; so savage it hurt at first. The next time, he eased slowly into her, spreading her so gently she seemed to pull him into her as she shuddered with suppressed pleasure.

And in between, he stroked her and kissed her and caressed her; the only part of her pelt he hadn't nibbled or caressed or tasted was her back, and under the flexible bands on her wrists, ankles, and neck. She squirmed and fought as he did that, the tension of her bonds reminding her she was captive, at his mercy.

They must have spent most of the day that way, him laying next to her, napping, casually raping her whenever he felt the urge, smiling when she climaxed. And she did climax, every time. And she struggled away from him, trying unsuccessfully to make it less obvious, trying to cover her shame. She fought desperately, trying to deny the fact that the most intense and prolonged sexual experience of her life was chained to the bed of a man she hated.

He fed her, a cup of thick and fragrant seafood chowder, spooning it patiently into her mouth. It was delicious, and not just because she had been fed on kibble for the last few weeks.

After each violation, he played with her, bringing her easily to one orgasm after another before entering her again, chuckling each time she struggled to suppress her reaction. He then ordered Silverfox out; she left, obediently, carrying her clothes. Was a guard outside ready to escort her?

Then he took her a third time fast and shallow, tantalizing her. He body shook, she tried to lift her hips to make him thrust more of his length into her, until he suddenly plunged deep, driving her into another climax. He kissed her forehead, and she lay there, exhausted, warmed by the intense pleasure he had brought her.

He rolled off her, and went to the dresser. He opened a drawer and rummaged in it.

She watched, careful and afraid and yet still languid and sated, expecting that he was getting a whip or a riding crop. Instead, to her surprise, he brought out a bra and a short skirt. He dressed himself, touched her with his fingertips, as though reinforcing his dominance by keeping her naked while he was dressed. Then, without a word, he dressed her, like a doll, leashed her, and contemplated her a moment.

"I am going to release your wrists," he said. "You will sit up, and cross them behind your back. Or, I will bring in some help, and I'll let him have some fun with you. Understood?"

She nodded.

"Use words. Respectfully."

"I understand, Master."

She sat woodenly and allowed him to bind her wrists behind her back. He then hobbled her, and took her out of the room.

She had been taken here unconscious, and noted the room number: Bedroom 306. They had gone up two levels. Her solitary cell was on the lowest, the first level. Underground? Probably; this facility had to have a massive foundation.

The blue bra left much of her breasts uncovered, each cup barely having enough fabric to cover a hand. There was a snap between her breasts, so it could be opened easily. The blue skirt was short, barely a mini-skirt. She had no panties, and she knew that a normal step forward would expose her. Of course, a normal step forward was impossible with an eighteen inch chain connecting the bands on her ankles. The outfit was less clothing than gift wrapping; teasing more than concealing.

"Do you like your clothes?" he asked. He was behind her, and held her leash.

"Yes," Firefox said honestly. She hadn't worn anything but chains and fur for ... for days? A week or two?  She wasn't sure any more. Simply having support for her breasts and some cover between her legs made her feel better.

He slapped her, bare handed, across the back of her head. It didn't hurt so much as it reminded her that he could hit her if he wanted. "Slip up once more," he said, "and I'll give you a week's solitary."

She closed her eyes. "Yes, Master." Damn you.

"Good girl. Remember that clothing is a privilege. Do you want to know how you earned them?"

She bit back a response. He had not called her a good girl before, and it infuriated her. "Yes, Master." It was a lie, but she knew any other response might merit punishment. She wasn't afraid of a slap or two, but he was supposed to be taking her to the other three.

He reached between her legs from behind and patted her pubic area. Her ears flattened. "Because of the way you squeezed me when I came into you. You just had to get every drop out for yourself, didn't you?"

He was marching her through a narrow corridor, concrete, steel barred gates opening and shutting behind them periodically. It reminded her, oddly, of the opening credits to Get Smart, but despite that inane connection the system was depressingly efficient and effective as a security precaution. How could they defeat so many gates without setting off an alarm?

And what was outside? A desert, a tundra, an ocean?

She tried to say "Yes, Master," but she couldn't force it out. The worst part was that he was absolutely right, and there was no way she could deny it to herself. He had flogged her, and then raped her repeatedly, and she had enjoyed it like a bitch in heat.

Fortunately, he seemed content to let the question float, unanswered. The next door -- a heavy, steel door, not a gate -- was labeled PANOPTICON.

Electricity flowed and bolts slid into the wall. The door swung open, and she flinched backwards. The next room seemed vast; she had been in solitary for so long it made her dizzy for a moment. They were in the inside of a hollow cylinder, perhaps sixteen meters in diameter, and seven stories high. It was so brightly lit she had to squint.

It smelled strongly of cleaning chemicals, and three half-meter wide robots were polishing the immaculate, shining floor. He took her out towards the center of the room, towards a thick pole that went up to the ceiling. Tilting her head back, she saw some sort of machine climbing the pole, a bulky platform covered with instruments. It rotated slowly, a bizarre mechanical spider staring and scanning. Each floor had a circular gallery, meshed. And the walls behind that were made of cells.

Later, she would count them: twenty on each level except the ground floor, each about two and a half meters wide, and four meters deep; one hundred twenty cells. And almost every one had two prisoners; two hundred eighteen in all.

On the ground floor, Firefox was shocked to see a black-furred rabbit girl, in a set of stocks, facing them as they entered. She was moaning, gasping, and writhing in what seemed to be pleasure, as far as her stocks allowed. Behind her, a guard was driving into her, using her from behind. Firefox could barely believe it: she was watching a bound woman being violated, in public, and evidently enjoying it. Firefox would have assumed the rabbit was faking it, except that she herself was still exhausted and spent.

Initially, the people were all so silent Firefox had trouble believing they were real; she could easily hear the guard gasping as he drove the woman into the stocks, shaking them as he assaulted her. As they went closer to the middle, the rabbit opened her eyes and saw them. Her eyes opened wide and she smiled, enthusiastically, even while the guard was still pumping her. Firefox heard the woman's voice cry out;

"Master!"

With the same cheer that would greet a rock star.

It quickly escalated, as they came to the bars and started a happy, enthusiastic hubbub. Firefox could barely make out individual words; Master, tonight, fuck, come. They sounded odd for a crowd, and Firefox realized there were no male voices in the chorus. It was a surreal experience; there were over two hundred women in sight, and every one was screaming herself hoarse shouting sexual invitations at the man who held her leash.

It was intimidating, and Firefox actually wondered, briefly, if they were normal and she was wrong -- which was, she was sure, exactly what Blue Diamond intended. He took her up a flight of stairs to the first gallery. The women pressed themselves against their bars, opened their tops to offer him their breasts, knelt to lick his hand, his shoe, whatever they could reach. He moved slowly, patting heads, holding chins, letting them suck his fingertip.

"You should get to know them," he said to Firefox. He steered her up against a set of bars. The woman inside was a chimera, or modified human; she was an angel, with long black hair and beautiful wings folded against her back. He pulled up Firefox's skirt. Without hesitating, the angel dropped to her knees and started licking Firefox's pubes, cleaning Master off her. Firefox felt hundreds of eyes on her, a sensation almost as palpable as the tongue.

The noise, the size of the room, the crowd were all stupefying enough; add to that the pure embarrassment of suddenly finding herself in a place where, without a word of command or introduction, a woman would go down on her as casually as Firefox would smile in response to a "Good morning." He undid Firefox's top and the rough tongue of a puma chimera in the next cell scraped her nipples. He didn't bother to redo the catch, and her breasts swung free. With some shock, she realized she didn't feel naked any more. This was a place where women were exposed.

He took her slowly around the first level. They passed one or two guards, who took a break from groping the prisoners to watch Firefox when they were in the same section. Firefox was dazed and bewildered as a rapid succession of women touched themselves or her breasts, and loudly speculated on what she would be like in bed. She was relieved when he took her up to the second level, but there it all started over again.

A lovely, short but busty woman with straw colored hair and skin as fine and pale as porcelain was in the first cell. She was one of the prettiest and most striking albinos Firefox had ever seen. When Master walked up, she lifted her skirt, turned around, spread her legs and bent over, holding the bars to keep from falling over; presenting shamelessly. Her cellmate, a buff Alsatian chimera, glanced at her, slightly annoyed, before she knelt and rested the side of her head on the ground.

Master stopped. "It's good to see you, Victoria." The dog girl licked his shoe. "You too, Alice." Her tail thumped. "Victoria, stand up and turn around."

Victoria bounced up and spun energetically, beaming happily at Master. Her eyes were pink, and when she smiled, Firefox was startled to notice that her canines were elongated and sharper than her cellmate's. "Hello, Master," she said brightly.

She's artificial,Firefox realized, suddenly recognizing her type, a vampire fetish sex model. She looked along the cells and through her memory. Every woman she had seen had either been an obvious chimera, or as perfectly and exquisitely formed as an expensive nude magazine model. She hadn't seen anyone who looked, well, normal for a human woman.

Master smiled and rested his hand on Victoria's cheek. Her tongue darted out and touched his hand; then she bit, gently.

"You tonight, I think," he said.

She glowed, positively glowed. "Thank you, Master."

Master reached into a pocket, took out a bar of chocolate, and pushed it between her breasts. Victoria giggled happily. He scratched Alice behind her ears and pushed Firefox on. Looking back, Victoria broke the bar in half and gave the larger one to her cellmate. Friendship, or protection?

Firefox looked at the women -- all women, not a single man -- more closely after that; tried to find one with flawed skin or uneven teeth that might show she was a slave convict instead of an artificial, like herself. She thought she found one, a pretty girl with strawberry blonde hair, freckles and a lean figure, but the very next cell had two more distinguishable from the first only by scent; and it seemed very unlikely that a set of triplets would all be sentenced to slavery. No, this wasn't a crowd of random, human women; they were chimera, artificial, carefully selected from a catalog to appeal to as wide a variety of fetishes as possible. If it had been legal to grow a chimera to look like a historical human, Firefox was convinced Blue Diamond would have had a squad of Marilyn Monroes.

Everyone she saw was well-toned and almost glowed with health. But aside from that, body types went from barely-legal schoolgirls to six and a half foot weightlifters. Every one was pampered, sleek like thoroughbreds. Apparently, Blue Diamond didn't do fat fetishes.

On the third floor, they passed a woman with horns, and skin almost exactly the same red as a fire truck; a devil to go with the angel. Every woman wore a collar, bands on wrists and ankles, and clothes very similar to Firefox's. The only variety she saw was that some wore tiny, buttfloss panties instead of the skirts. Master stopped to greet each woman, and every woman used her few seconds to beg for sex. It was horrifying.

Firefox had always guessed that apart from fiction, sex slaves would be as sullen and resentful as fast food workers; how had Master created so much enthusiasm, what sort of man had over two hundred women begging for him, and worse, and worse, she thought with a shudder, what sort of Master would a man like that be? How forgiving?

They bypassed the fourth floor, and Firefox realized it was because her friends were there. They went past the odd platform that went up and down the central shaft; she could see it carried an extraordinary battery of sensors, that life in the panopticon was as private as the slide of a microscope.

Every four cells, another gate on the walkway opened for them. The contrast between this careful security and the adulation of the women was extraordinary. It was comforting; Master wasn't confident enough in his slaves to drop this expensive security setup. Perhaps, perhaps despite all the cries and offered breasts and masturbating against the slick chrome bars, perhaps Master knew that if all these doors opened at once, a mob would instantly rip him apart.

Maybe.

"You are not permitted to raise your voice when talking," he said, absurdly, over the loud shouting. "You are not permitted to touch the bars," he added, ignoring the fact every woman in the prison was pressed against them, even reaching through the bars towards him. "You are not permitted to reject a sexual advance from another slave, or a guard. That is a flogging offence."

She barely heard him, because Technofox and Silverfox were in the next cell, and Shadowfox was in the cell beyond that.

Technofox and Silverfox were pressed against the bars, mouths gaping and smiling, tails wagging happily. At Firefox, not at Master. Shadowfox, sleek, black-furred Shadowfox, was up against the bars where they formed a corner with Technofox's cell. She wore panties instead of a skirt; it was tight against her mons and seamed to exaggerate her camel toe. Her hands were behind her back, probably chained like Firefox's.

Firefox couldn't help herself; she rushed forward, straining at the leash. He gave her slack, and she fell into an embrace with her three friends. Atavistically, they licked at one another's muzzles, trembling with happiness. Silverfox put her arm around Shadowfox and Firefox, bringing them all into the hug at the risk of disjointing her arm.

They babbled, excitedly, happily; about nothing, really. Simply being back with her friends made Firefox's confidence soar. There was nothing they couldn't do together.

Master let them stand that way for a minute, maybe two. Firefox noticed that the noise was dying down; perhaps all two hundred slaves were losing their voices. "Enough," Master said, jerking the leash backwards. Firefox stumbled backwards, tripped over his foot, and landed, awkwardly, on her tail. Shadowfox glared at Master. "Damn," she snapped, "that --"

By now, it was quiet enough that Shadowfox's yell could be heard some distance. Silence spread over the panopticon, and Firefox could see the other slaves looking properly aghast.

Firefox stood slowly, as he pulled, impatiently, on her leash. He looped it over a horizontal bar and tugged it tight, lifting her slightly to her toes. He then snapped the end to her collar, shackling her to the bars. Silverfox reached through the bars and squeezed her hand from behind.

Shadowfox lowered herself to the floor, licked it once, and came to her knees, trembling.

"Master," she said, voice shaking, "I --"

"No, you are not sorry," he said. "Not yet." He hesitated. "I am very disappointed in you. I expect you to be an example for your friends. You have earned an extra ten lashes tonight."

Shadowfox closed her eyes, painfully. "Y - yes, Master," she said.

"Firefox spoke out of turn earlier. Silverfox accepted ten lashes for her. Those ten are now yours also."

"Master," Silverfox interrupted, "With respect, those ten were for show, Master."

Master turned to look at Silverfox. Firefox couldn't see her reaction, but Master smiled gently. "Yes, but Shadowfox isn't as good an actor as you. She needs a real whip for encouragement." Master looked down at Shadowfox. "Do you accept them?"

Shadowfox was visibly shaking. Her voice was hoarse. "I thank my Master for the whip and for the forgiveness it brings." Firefox blinked. Shadowfox certainly hadn't come up with that line on her own.

By now, the panopticon had fallen dead silent. Nobody wanted to draw attention to themselves. Firefox felt sick. "Master," she said, "Master, those ten were mine, originally. Please return them to me." She desperately, desperately, wished she didn't have to say that.

He turned to look at her sharply, and ran a hand over her cheek, down to cup her breast, and teased a nipple with his thumb. Even now, even under these conditions, she felt a thrill of pleasure as he did so, and shame that she did. Still, the naked relief on Shadowfox's face made it worthwhile. "Very well," he said, as though giving her a favor.

He turned to look down at Shadowfox. "Knees," he ordered sharply. She rose to her knees. He took a length of chain from his belt, attached it to her collar, and pulled sharply, forcing her head against the bars. He then looped the chain around, holding her collar tight against the bars.

"Girl," he said, addressing her directly, "Sable is going to show you what your mouth is for. Watch, like a good girl." As an afterthought, he reached down, opened Shadowfox's bra, and pulled her breasts into view. They were large, well shaped, black nipples barely visible against black fur.

Shadowfox obediently turned her head, to put her snout through the bars as Master dropped his pants and jockstrap. He was already half erect, and Shadowfox turned her head sideways to delicately lap at his scrotum. Firefox watched as it grew tight around his testes and his penis engorged and rose. Around the Panopticon, everyone watched.

Firefox didn't dare to take her eyes off her friend as she opened her mouth wide, and took his shaft against her curling tongue. When she closed her mouth, she emitted a soft, deep moan, as though unable to suppress the joy she felt. An odd thought came to Firefox: Master had come into her four times, and had used Silverfox at least once. How did he -- ?

Slowly, Shadowfox pulled her head back. When he was almost out of her, he spoke. "How many men and women have come against that tongue?" he asked.

She pulled it out of her mouth, and held it up for a moment with the tip of her tongue, before letting it drop to reply. "Hundreds, Master," she replied immediately, to Firefox's surprise. Shadowfox had never had more than two boyfriends, Firefox knew with certainty. They had argued about that, even, Shadowfox had disapproved of Firefox's social life.

Then she remembered that Master had told her to exaggerate when asked that. Shadowfox continued. "Men love the way they fit in my mouth, women love how long my tongue is. I can touch deep inside them, taste them completely."

Wordlessly, he reached down and took her by the ears, pulling her close against the bars again.

"Master wants to come qui --" she said, immediately before he gagged her with his cock.

He started thrusting then, hard and deep and cruel, while she struggled to co-operate. Shadowfox alternately gasped for breath and moaned in pleasure, as though eating a delicious treat. The Panopticon was impossibly silent, each woman trying to be invisible. The loudest sound was rough, violent oral sex.

Just when Firefox couldn't stand any more, Shadowfox started gulping and Master trembled, exhaling slowly as he climaxed.

He turned away from Shadowfox, without releasing her from where she knelt. He undid Firefox's leash from the bars, and opened the sliding gate into the cell. He pushed Firefox in and closed it behind her.

"Against the bars," he ordered. Firefox gritted her teeth, knowing he would chain her against them. She was wrong: to her surprise, he released the chain on her ankles, then stood and released the one holding her wrists together. She put her bra back on. He turned to walk away.

"Master, please let her go," Firefox said, looking at Shadowfox.

He looked down at Shadowfox, chained in a kneeling position, her hands behind her back. "No," he decided. "You four need to learn how to appreciate the little things in life, like walking around in your cells." He knelt next to Shadowfox.

"Comfy?" he asked.

"Yes, Master," Shadowfox replied immediately.

"Good. You four will putting on a show tonight. With an old friend of yours. You know who I mean." He looked oddly sad.

Shadowfox slowly met his eyes. "That's ... impossible. Master." She seemed to be speaking to convince herself. "She's not real."

He shook his head. "Now, now, girl. Don't you realize yet that dreams come true at Blue Diamond?"

"Not Tigre, Master," Shadowfox asked. "She's not real, is she?"

"As real as you and me," Master said. Shadowfox closed her eyes. He patted her arm. "Don't make me give you to her again. Please, try to be good."

He walked away, and Firefox surveyed the cell. The walls separating it from the adjacent cells were bars, not solid. It was quite deep, deeper than any jail cell she had ever seen. There were two folding bunks, one on each long wall. One of the bunks was down, and there was a book on the mattress -- no sheets or blankets. Further back, there was a toilet (out in the open), a shower (with no curtain), a dildo jutting from the wall at waist height (Firefox sighed).

Incongruously, there was a treadmill and an elastic-resistance weight training table, and a brightly lit mirror with an elaborate makeup and grooming equipment. Of course. They were supposed to keep pretty.

Firefox knelt next to Shadowfox, embraced her and touched her own muzzle to hers. Firefox sniffed, realized that Shadowfox had a bead of Master's semen at the corner of her mouth. Before she was consciously aware of what she was doing, Firefox lapped it with her tongue. It was becoming a reflex.

"Shadowfox," she whispered. "Are you okay?" Firefox reached out to the black fox's bra to reattach it over her breasts. A strange image flicked through Firefox's mind; herself, ripping Shadowfox's bra open, sucking and biting at those delicious, beautiful nipples while Shadowfox writhed helplessly in her chains and begged her to stop ... Firefox shook her head. Where had that come from?

Are you okay.It was a ridiculous question, but she couldn't think of anything else to say. Shadowfox nodded. "I'm okay," Shadowfox whispered. She glanced over at Silverfox. "We all are," she said, with particular emphasis.

"What did you do?" Firefox asked. "You were handcuffed before he pushed me."

Shadowfox shook her head. "Said 'no' at work yesterday. Stupid."

"What did you mean?" Firefox asked. "Who's Tigre?"

Shadowfox stared off into the distance, and closed her eyes. "Pleasure chimera are trained with VR simulations," Shadowfox said, finally. "They use two characters, Master and Tigre."

"Good Cop / Bad Cop?" Firefox asked, wondering how Shadowfox knew that.

Shadowfox nodded. "Tigre's the bad cop."

Firefox closed her own eyes and tried not to feel the fear. She had been flogged and raped by the Good Cop? "Is that why the others love him?"

Shadowfox looked around. "There isn't a woman in this brothel who wouldn't kill Master if she had a chance," she whispered. She looked up at Firefox. "And there isn't one who wouldn't give you fifty lashes for a chocolate bar or a pack of cigarettes. Remember that." She rested her head against the bars and sighed. "Blue Diamond sells tickets to the floggings. Discipline generates revenue that way. But that means they need to have punishments every day. So they ... grade on the curve."

Shadowfox chuckled, dryly. "They pick the least enthusiastic slaves every day. Being a good girl isn't enough." She slowly shook her head. "They pit slaves against each other. Make us compete and the losers get beaten."

"He said the four of us..." Firefox started to say.

"Get ten a day, regardless." Shadowfox laughed, cracked. "We're lucky girls, aren't we? We get extra attention, because we're special."

Firefox kissed her. "We're Foxforce. We'll get through this," she said firmly. "Right?"

Shadowfox grinned. A tear slid over damp fur near her eyes and spattered on the floor. "Right." But she seemed to settle down.

"Why do some women have panties instead of skirts?" Firefox asked.

Shadowfox closed her eyes again. "It means the guests and guards aren't allowed to take you between the legs," she whispered slowly. "That's a secret. Don't let them know you know."

Firefox was silent, and suppressed a feeling of jealousy and suspicion. What had Shadowfox done to earn that?

Shadowfox coughed. "Firefox, I'm sorry, but I'm thirsty." Firefox looked about. She saw no drinking cups.

Firefox forced a smile and nodded. First, she walked to the shower and turned it on. The water smelled wrong, of a strong disinfectant.

"Uhm, Firefox," Technofox called out. "You don't want to drink that."

"Thanks," Firefox said. "Swell."

A red light started to flash in Technofox's cell. She and Silverfox glanced at one another. Firefox froze. Technofox forced a smile at her and touched a fingertip to her muzzle. Firefox looked out and saw the closest guard walking towards them. Her heart sunk, but she noticed a basket the size of a coffee mug almost half filled with change. Nothing bigger than a quarter. There could only be a few dollars in the basket, but it was strange they allowed money.

She walked reluctantly over to the dildo in the wall and knelt before it. She put her hands in her lap and started to work at herself. Puzzled, she noticed there was no switch on the wall for her nose. She took it into her mouth, and when it didn't thrust into her throat, sucked gently. Water came into her mouth. Apparently, they worked differently in the Panopticon. Well, that was a relief.

She swallowed some and filled her mouth, stretching her cheeks. Technofox was looking at her strangely; Firefox didn't blame her. She was probably wondering why Firefox had started to masturbate at the water spigot. Firefox didn't feel like explaining.

She went over to Shadowfox and, kissing her, slowly transferred the water into her friend's mouth.

"Thank you," Shadowfox whispered. "Don't say anything to the guard. You can only make it worse."

The guard made it around in front of Technofox's cell. Technofox and Silverfox were sitting primly on their bunks, hands in their laps. Firefox noticed that they each had a book on their bunks. He took out a chrome nightstick and banged the bars. "You. Gray bitch," he said, pointing the club at Silverfox. "Who made that noise?"

"I made the noise, sir," Technofox said. "I'm sorry, sir. I was trying to keep --"

He ignored her. "Who made the noise?" he repeated to Silverfox.

Oh, he knew Technofox had raised her voice. But he was going to force Silverfox to say it too.

Silverfox looked miserably at Technofox. "She did, sir."

"Good girl," he told Silverfox. He pointed at Technofox. "Bark for me, doggie."

Technofox hesitated, and emitted a sharp yap. Chimera were trained to avoid atavistic behavior; the social taboos against canids barking were almost as strong as nudity taboos.

"Good girl," he said, running his eye up and down Technofox's slight, slender form and considering. "Too scrawny," he said, to Technofox's obvious relief. Then he looked over at Shadowfox, grinned, walked in front of her and lowered his pants. He snapped his fingers at Firefox. "Bring your tits over here."

He undid Firefox's bra and started playing roughly with her breasts as Shadowfox took him into her mouth. He pulled her close, so her breasts jutted through the bars. Firefox stood, off balance against the bars, as his hands ran over her, standing with Shadowfox between her legs, the black fox's head sometimes bumping against her vulva.

He was entirely focused on her breasts and nipples, pinching, lifting, and squeezing at nipples responding and growing hard. Firefox forced herself to keep her eyes open, looking at him, trying not to feel pleasure. His manipulation was slowing, as though he was growing tired. Her first, involuntary moan brought a grin to his face, and a redoubling of his efforts. She was wet, she realized, any wetter and she'd drip on Shadowfox. Shadowfox had to realize that, had to smell her excitement.

Firefox knew her friends were watching her, that they would see how much pleasure she was experiencing. There was a part of her that envied Shadowfox because she had his cock, that envied him for the touch of Shadowfox's tongue. The humiliation of it was unbearable; the thought that her dearest friends would see her enjoying his cruelty, as though she was indeed fated for this life. She knew she would get even more strokes if she stepped back from him, but she couldn't bear the thought of her friends watching her stimulated by this.

Thank God, he came. He squeezed her sensitive breasts and she cried out, in pleasure and pain. He smiled at her, knowing exactly how close she had just come to orgasm.

"Zip me up, tits," he ordered.

Hands trembling, Firefox reached through the bars and put her hands on his penis, wet with Shadowfox's saliva and his own ... she was thankful for the fur that kept the flush on her face invisible as she stuffed it into his underpants and zipped his pants. She couldn't meet his eyes, because she knew he knew.

She looked down at her hand, and against her will, brought it up to her mouth. He was looking right at her.

"You're hotter than a soldering iron, aren't you?" he asked. "What would you do right now, if I let you lick me clean and fuck me?"

She put her hands over her nipples, both to cover them and feel them, wrinkled and hard. And she saw the knowledge in his eyes, the absolute knowledge that he could flog her and she'd still climax for him.

Silverfox went over to the treadmill in her cell and started to walk on it, slowly working up to a run.

He turned and walked away, and Firefox turned away from the bars. She knelt next to Shadowfox.

"Are you okay?" she whispered.

"I'm okay," Shadowfox assured her. Was there something in her expression, some reproach for the hair-trigger slut?

Firefox stepped over to the cot next to Technofox's cell and lay down on it, moving Shadowfox's book. She looked at the title: Tamed to the Harem. The picture had a woman bound in straps and a harness kneeling before a shadowy figure with a whip. The cot was directly next to one in Technofox's cell: the book on her cot was Electrical Ecstasy. There was a suggestive piston on the cover.

Technofox moved her book away and lay down on her cot. She hesitated, and put an awkward hand on Firefox. Firefox was more puzzled than anything else. "All the books and videos in the library are like that," Technofox said in soft tones. "All, uhm, porn, mostly about submissive women. You have to fill out a test, and depending on how well you answer they give you money. There's a little PX. Cigarettes, candy, things like that."

Then her lips barely moved, and even Firefox's ears could hardly make out her voice.

"They send a guard if they think we're talking too long," she whispered. Her eyes met Firefox's, and slid away, embarrassed. "But they let us, uh..."

"We have to pretend to have sex to talk?" Firefox whispered back.

"We can't pretend," Technofox muttered.

Of course not, Firefox realized. They were able to monitor their responses so well they could build orgasm-triggered water spigots. Firefox smiled, put out a hand on Technofox's muzzle and turned her head towards her.

"I think," she said in soft tones, loud enough to be picked up, "I've always thought you were one of the prettiest girls I've ever seen." She closed her eyes and parted her mouth, licking gently at Technofox's lips through the bars.

Technofox smiled despite herself, and rested her muzzle on Firefox's, embracing her awkwardly.

"We're on an island," she said softly. "In the ocean. It's about five kilometers across. About thirty degrees north. Must be the Pacific. Most of it is forest. I think we're over the horizon from a city. At night you can see the glow to the east. Maybe twenty or thirty kilometers away."

"San Diego?" Firefox asked. "Damn. California's a slave state."

"Right. I think you're right about San Diego. The tips are in US currency."

"Why don't they clear the forest?" Firefox asked.

There was a pause. "Fox hunting," Technofox said softly.

"Oh." Firefox fell silent, and awkward. What could she possibly say? I'm sorry they chased you all over the forest and gang raped you when you were caught.

"It was good to get outside," Technofox said, shrugging it off. "I didn't see any guns. No turrets. Could take a sniper rifle up a tower, I suppose, but I didn't notice any pintle mounts. If anything, you'd expect them to set up fake guns to scare us."

"That's encouraging. They'd rather let us escape than kill us."

"Maybe. You'd think they'd want to avoid bad publicity, but I can't see them willing to kill us without a warning."

"It might be possible to hide outside in the forest, build a raft --"

Technofox shook her head. "There's sensors all over the woods. Seismic. When we get out, we have to get off the island fast. Building a raft that can take us thirty kilometers won't be fast. And thirty kilometers is quite a sea voyage. Possible, but damn dangerous. Alcatraz to San Francisco would be a much easier trip."

"Swimmers have done that without rafts."

"With tide tables, in daylight, wearing wetsuits, and knowing the currents. I'm not a sailor. None of us are. But I know enough to tell you it's dangerous."

They lay there, hands resting lightly on one another, and Firefox felt how strange this was; to be in close contact without groping hands and eyes on her genitals and breasts; to simply enjoy contact with someone who knew her and who didn't think of her as a pair of tits and a crotch.

"I'm sorry," Technofox whispered. "I think I should start getting you off. Do you want tongue or fingers?"

Firefox was suddenly struck by the thought that Technofox had probably been violated more than she had made love. That hit Firefox so hard she nearly wept. Technofox was talking about getting her off, as though Firefox was a client, someone who enjoyed watching Technofox endure the humiliation of providing sex as much as she enjoyed the sex. And she knew she couldn't do it. She couldn't just masturbate her friend, as though it were a task.

Firefox closed her eyes and gently, gently, probed Technofox's mouth with her tongue. Technofox pulled her head back, and looked at her, puzzled.

"I want you," Firefox said gently.

Technofox trembled slightly. "I want you too," she said, hurriedly, ashamed. "Firefox, forgive me, but I want to..." her eyes dropped to Firefox's breasts, and looked away, ashamed. "I don't understand why," she said, her voice shaking. "I'm not bi. I'm not. But..." She pulled Firefox's ear against her snout, and continued in a cracked whisper. "They're conditioning us. Establishing a positive feedback loop with our neural implants somehow."

"Induced nymphomania," Firefox said. That matched what she had been feeling.

"I'm trying to fight it, but..."

"It's all right," Firefox said, gently.

She sat up, and Technofox looked stricken, as though she was afraid Firefox was going away.

Instead, Firefox reached between her breasts and undid the fastener. Slowly, she shrugged out of her bra, letting her breasts into view. Technofox stared.

"We're friends, Technofox," Firefox said. "All you ever had to do was ask. Let me do this for you."

Firefox took one of Technofox's hands and rested it on her own breast, let her start stroking it. Her other hand found her other breast, and soon she was playing intently with Firefox's nipples.

"I didn't know you had them pierced," Technofox said.

"They did that," Firefox explained. "That's why they used plastic studs. They're locked in so I can't remove them and let them heal. They have to cut them off when they hang something through them."

"Do they hurt?" Technofox asked, removing her hands.

"No," she assured her. "Do you want to taste them?"

Technofox barely nodded.

Firefox lay down on her side, and pushed her breasts through the bars. Technofox stared for a moment, and quickly, too quickly, lowered her head.

Firefox lay there, content and relaxed, as Technofox's tongue and lips and sharp little teeth worked at her nipples, sending a glow of pleasure through her with each suck.

"Mm," Firefox said. "That feels good. You're so gentle."

After a few minutes, Firefox reached a hand down and between Technofox's legs.

Technofox was wet, and she moaned softly as Firefox slipped a fingertip inside her for lubrication. She then ran a claw tip over Technofox's clitoris. Technofox sighed, almost against her will.

Firefox lowered her mouth to Technofox's ear. "It's okay to enjoy this," she whispered. "I'm a just doing something for my friend. You're a beautiful girl, and I like doing this for you."

Firefox smiled to feel Technofox's small body respond to her touch, to hear her moan softly as Technofox suckled. Technofox opened her legs wider, let Firefox put her fingers deeper into her.

Technofox came then, tightening her grip against Firefox, gasping.

"I love you, Technofox," Firefox told her.

Technofox looked up, bewildered, shy, and a little proud. "I love you, too. Thank you."

"It's not a favor to you. You can have me whenever you want me. Okay?"

Technofox rested her hand on Firefox's pubes, and Firefox shifted her hips to give her better access. She closed her eyes and tried to imagine they were free, and making love only because they were friends.

They held one another for a few minutes after Firefox climaxed, until a guard hit the bars with his nightstick and ordered them to split up. Firefox paid more attention to Shadowfox; massaging her cramped legs and arms, bringing her more water. Exhausted, she lay down on the other bunk, and closed her eyes for a moment.

When she awoke, she wasn't sure how much time had passed -- the clock in her neural implant kept resetting every few minutes, they had hacked it well -- she noticed a guard take a woman out of her cell, leaving her cellmate. He then went to the next cell over, took out one of the women, and chained her in front of the first by her collar, wrists, and ankles. Each chain was about a foot long, and the guard tapped the wall with his stick: left, right, left, right. He put a leash on the first woman, and moved them to another cell, and added a third woman to the coffle.

Technofox was sitting on her bunk, and Silverfox was brushing her hair. Silverfox looked over at Firefox. "We're supposed to groom," Silverfox said. "We tried to wake you up, but --"

"That's okay," Firefox said.

"You should brush your hair."

"No, I want to watch this," Firefox said, pointing.

Firefox saw that other guards were doing the same, building snakes of bound women, each moving with surprising speed. The slaves were good at moving this way. There was very little stumbling, even as they went down stairs. She watched one coffle move across the floor of the Panopticon to the door. She counted ten women in the group, controlled by one guard.

"The work day's started," Shadowfox murmured.

"Please, Firefox. At least make an effort. Shadowfox is okay, they won't expect her to brush. But damnit, do you want to piss them off?"

"Well, yes."

"I mean pointlessly."

Firefox nodded, and turned to the makeup table. Suddenly, she remembered: Shadowfox had been chained there for hours. "Does it hurt?" Firefox asked.

"Only when I laugh," Shadowfox said dryly.

"You," a guard snapped, pointing at Firefox with a club. "Red fox. Over to the door."

Firefox hesitated, stood, and walked towards him. He opened the sliding door a few inches, and Firefox could sense magnetic locks clicking on. He chained her collar to the woman in front of his coffle, then opened the door the rest of the way so he could shackle her arms and ankles as well. Firefox considered fighting, but she noticed that the last woman in the line was leashed to the bars, and that gates were closed; even if Firefox detached her own leash, there was no place to go.

Besides, she could hear mechanisms inside her collar snapping into place as the leash was put on. It was the first time she had noticed that. Looking over at another woman in the coffle, she noticed that the leash didn't attach to the ring on her collar; it was inserted into a slot next to the ring. And that meant ... it was locked, and the guard probably didn't have a key.

The slave behind Firefox was a chimera, a scaled green and yellow reptile woman. Her breasts pressed into Firefox's back. They went on, adding more women to the back of the coffle as they moved from cell to cell. The gate to an elevator slid open.

The guard walked up next to Firefox. "Be careful," he said with surprising gentleness. "One step at a time."

They left the Panopticon, and went down the hall. They stopped in front of a door labeled GROOMING 312. The guard hobbled Firefox, bound her wrists together, and split her off the coffle. He tapped a switch on the door, and a short woman in a white smock opened it. She might have been human, possibly the first human woman Firefox had seen all day.

The woman in a smock smiled at the guard. "New girl?" she asked.

"Yes, that's right," he said.

"Ve go easy on her, den," she said with a cheerful, accented voice. She looked up and down Firefox's body, all too obviously appraising her for potential, considering haircuts and makeup, as though Firefox were a canvas. "Komm insite, pretty t'ing," she ordered, tugging at her leash.

When the door closed, she ran her hand through Firefox's hair, and tutted. "Such lovely hair, and you didn't efen brush it," she said with a smile. She shook her head, and before Firefox saw it coming, drove a fist under her ribs.

Shock as much as pain sent Firefox to her knees, gasping for breath. She would have fallen over, but a jerk on her leash kept her on her knees. She slapped her, hard, across the face, spinning Firefox's muzzle to the left and the right with alternating blows.

"You stupit, filt'y (slap) little bitch. You (slap) report for service (slap) in this state again and (slap) it's ten lashes. Do you understand?"

Firefox gritted her teeth, and breathed deeply, pretending she couldn't speak, fighting to master herself.

"I understand, ma'am," she spat out.

"Gut girl. Now ve vash you out." She inclined her head towards the wall. There was a set of stocks in front of a toilet, and another woman was bringing over an enema bag.

Firefox was exhausted and sore when they were finished with her, too tired to resist when they stripped her and attached her wrists to a bar locked onto her collar. Her ankles were hobbled together. She squirmed when they hung something from the pierced hole through her clitoris, an opaque blue crystal three centimeters long. They then put rings through her pierced nipples, clipped a leather leash to them, passing it behind her back. That puzzled her, but immediately before they locked a blindfold over her eyes, she realized they were reins.

She sat, blindfolded, her other senses pitched into high gear. She heard footsteps, scented a man, her fur read air currents as he moved behind her and took the reins in his hand.

"Gee up there, girl," he said, flicking the reins once. Her delicate magnetic sense felt a capacitor behind her charging.

She had a mental image of resisting, of voltage playing directly through her nipples. Horrified, she stood, and took a step forward. He pulled at her right nipple and she turned until the pressure stopped. White noise started playing through earplugs. So much for adding to her mental map of the complex.

She knew from the way the air moved she was in a larger room now, towards one end. She was stopped, and the bar that her wrists were on were moved above her head. There were two men near her; she could smell them and hear them despite the white noise. Her blindfold was whipped off, and she saw she was on a stage, standing, bound spread-eagled in a frame, facing the audience directly. And all she could see at first were empty seats.

To her right, she saw Silverfox, her back to the audience; she was already trembling. Silverfox couldn't see what was behind her, and what she imagined was probably worse than reality. Firefox wished she could tell her. Beyond her was Technofox, facing Firefox, sideways to the seats. Technofox forced a grin and Firefox smiled back. To Firefox's left was Shadowfox, her own left side to the audience, swallowing convulsively at her gag.

It grew harder to see into the auditorium, and for a moment, Firefox was afraid something was wrong with her eyes. She then realized the lights on them were being turned up, and as she adjusted to the light the objects in darkness faded out.

She heard people moving in the darkness, muttering to one another. She scented men and women as they found seats. It struck her as odd that she couldn't smell popcorn or chocolate. No snacks at a live performance, she guessed. Time seemed to run very fast, as she knew very well what was coming.

Firefox wasn't sure why she suddenly looked to her left, past Shadowfox, hackles rising. The woman she saw was out of her immediate field of vision, so Firefox didn't see her. She moved so quietly Firefox didn't hear her. The air currents were in the wrong direction, so Firefox didn't smell her. It was as though her simple presence compelled eyes to focus on her, as though some sense other than the ones carefully tuned by Firefox's designers had been triggered.

She wore a collar, and the same bands Firefox wore on her own wrists and ankles, in black with chrome studs instead of plain red. That had to mean she was also a slave. She wore a black leather bustier, leather shooters' gloves, and panties so sheer they were translucent. But she didn't move like a slave; although she was barefoot, she walked lightly and confidently and soundlessly, with impossible, inhuman grace. She carried a coiled whip in one hand, and a massive dildo hung from one hip, like a gunslinger's Colt .45. A slight, sardonic smile showed white, sharp teeth.

She wasn't human. She was a white tiger / human chimera. Probably Siberian tiger; she was bigger than Firefox, over six feet. The muscles in her arms and legs were sharply defined, clearly visible under her close-laying fur. Shadowfox was craning her head around at her, in stunned disbelief, looking as though she was trying to wake from a bad dream. It had to be Tigre.

The audience applauded. She was the star, Foxforce were props for her show. Tigre turned to the audience and inclined her head slightly, a rote show of submission that vanished as she looked over the four bound foxes. On the stage, she was queen.

"These women are a set," she said out loud. "They still value their friendship more than they love their Master." Her voice was low, soft, without a trace of the cracked or rumbling "kitty" accent a lot of felid chimera had. "Instruction can take a long time, and involves a great deal of cruelty."

Tigre stepped lightly over to Shadowfox, who squirmed away from her.

"Hello, old friend," Tigre said softly. "It's been too long since you've worn chains and danced for me."

Shadowfox shook her head, dazed, still not believing.

Tigre moved forward and took Shadowfox into an embrace. She kissed Shadowfox tenderly, reached for her hair, and pulled it forward, over Shadowfox's shoulders. Tigre walked behind Shadowfox, hand lingering over her breast.

Firefox felt a buzzing between her legs. Startled, she looked down. The bauble hanging from her was a vibrator. They were going to masturbate her while her friends were beaten.

Shadowfox moaned slightly, and moved slowly against Tigre. Tigre looked up, and seemed distracted for a moment, as though reading a sign nobody else could see.

"Trying to fool me, aren't you?" she said. Shadowfox, frightened, shook her head firmly. "Oh, don't bother to lie to me. You can lie to others, but not me. I know you too well. I know you're just acting, that you're trying to keep a wall between you and me." She kissed Shadowfox's shoulder passionately, clutched at her breast, and extended her claws. Shadowfox squirmed. The vibrator hanging from Firefox kicked up a notch, sending a sharp, almost intolerable, wave of pleasure through her groin. Firefox couldn't tell if Tigre's claws actually broke through Shadowfox's flesh.

Tigre let go of Shadowfox, stepped backwards, smiled. Shadowfox's ears folded, she clenched her hands, braced herself for what was coming.

"You get twenty, daily ration and ten extra for insolence against Master."

With the first three sharp cracks, Shadowfox bit the gag between her teeth and muffled her cries, moaning through teeth gritted tight together. With the fourth, she lost control, and shrieked; her voice ringing against the walls. Tigre laughed, smiled, and touched herself once before going on.

Each time the whip cracked, the vibrator dangling from Firefox's clitoris pulsed, making Firefox spasm with pleasure. She knew she was wet; so wet she was almost dripping. She tried to press her thighs against the vibrator, to dampen what she was feeling, but her legs were forced open by the chains, and she felt eyes on her crotch, knew that every twitch of the muscles there was being appraised. And what made it worse, she knew they thought she was getting off on Shadowfox's screams.

"That's ten," Tigre said. "Now the ten extra." She embraced Shadowfox from behind; Shadowfox squirmed in pain as Tigre's breasts pushed against her sore back. "Does that hurt? Good. Isn't it amazing how much it can hurt, even when I don't break your skin? Anyone can make a woman scream if they're willing to just rip her back open. Not me. I'm an artist. The next ten will not cut. And with every one, I want you to ask yourself if it was worth it. I want you to ask yourself if mouthing off to your Master was worth what you're feeling."

Crack.

"Was it worth it?"

Crack.

"Was it worth it?"

Shadowfox shook her head, desperately, each time Tigre demanded an answer. And each time, Firefox heard a terrible crack of the whip, heard Shadowfox shriek and rattle her chains, and, horribly, felt pleasure in her loins, pushing her closer and closer to orgasm.

It was a relief when she heard Tigre's order to Shadowfox: "That's all, girl. Give me a kiss."

Tigre forced her tongue into Shadowfox's unresisting mouth, sucked briefly at her nipples. Tigre patted Shadowfox's fanny, smiled as Shadowfox flinched away, ears flat, weeping, a mixture of animal and human misery.

She came to Firefox.

Firefox looked at her steadily, tried to ignore the panic and terror in her mind. No! No! One of the others first! Not me! She knew it made no difference, that delaying it would not save her a single stroke, an iota of anguish, but the frantic terror bubbling up in the back of her mind allowed for no logic.

Tigre flicked a finger over Firefox's labia. The tip of her claw caught the edge of a fold, sending a tinge of pain through Firefox. Tigre licked her finger, tasting Firefox's the salty juice from her vagina. Tigre smiled at her, and as though knowing what she was thinking, went on to Silverfox.

Tigre put her arms around the smaller fox, pressed Silverfox's head against her breasts. She closed her eyes and spoke as tenderly as a lover.

"You are wondering," she said, "you are wondering if there's anything you can say or do that will make this hurt less. There isn't. You see, I'd rather hurt you than fuck you. I'd rather beat you than have you squirm at my feet." She moved back, and held Silverfox's head, forcing the unresisting fox to stare her in the face. "There's nothing you can do," she said gently. "There's no humiliation you can accept, no action you can take that will spare you anything from me. But you know something? Despite that, you'll debase yourself for me. Knowing that, you'll wrack your brains to invent ways to pleasure me, to crawl for me. Now, your back is to the audience, so they can get a good look at the whip hitting you." She kissed Silverfox on the forehead. "And some day, some day, I promise you, you will beg for extra strokes. Because making me happy will matter more to you than the pain."

Tigre stood behind her, a little to the side, so the audience had a clear view. "You're a very lucky girl, you know. You're only getting ten."

Firefox could see Silverfox's agony, written in her face, in the way she writhed. She couldn't watch. She closed her eyes, turned away, but she could hear the whip hiss and crack and Silverfox howl.

And she could feel the vibrator buzzing between her legs, more and more intent, edging her closer and closer. She opened her eyes, because she knew watching Silverfox's pain was the only thing that would keep her from coming on the stage.

Tigre stopped. Silverfox hung limply, and Firefox prayed she was unconscious. Tigre licked her ear tenderly, and closed her teeth on it. Silverfox screamed.

Firefox was relieved to see Tigre had simply bit her lightly, without taking a part out of her ear. "You want more?" Tigre asked. "Take ten more and I'll give Firefox fifteen instead of twenty. You want more?"

Silverfox shuddered and shook her head. Firefox felt conflicted; she knew it was a bad exchange, and that she'd feel guilty if Silverfox had accepted, but it was an odd betrayal as well.

Tigre clapped Silverfox on the shoulder, bringing out a final shriek. Silverfox slumped in her chains, and somehow, Firefox knew she had fainted. The vibrator leapt so strongly Firefox had to bite the inside of her own cheek to keep from climaxing, and she looked at Silverfox enviously.

Technofox was shaking as Tigre sauntered up to her. Tigre extended her claws, ran them over Technofox's body, smiled as the little technician squirmed and tried to struggle away.

"You know," Tigre said conversationally, "I really enjoy meeting new people. I've never seen two women suffer in exactly the same way. I think you're going to learn a lot here. You were practically a virgin when we bought you. Now you've been balled dozens of times, and I don't think you've ever had the same cock in you twice. You probably think that's the worst thing that can happen to you." She flicked the whip, coiled it, patted the side of Technofox's face with it as she tried to struggle away. "I'm going to teach you different. You're going to wish you were back with those men holding you down and taking turns. And just to make sure you know -- I'm really, really going to enjoy this." She kissed Technofox, long and hard, and Technofox squirmed in her arms.

Tigre walked behind Technofox, let the whip uncoil, touch the ground. She drew her arm back, and snapped it forward. The whip snaked out, and cracked like a pistol in the air next to Technofox's right ear. Technofox shuddered and recoiled from it.

"That one didn't count," Tigre said casually. Firefox was shaking, with impotent rage. Tigre lay a hand on Technofox's shoulder.

"I like being a girl," Tigre said calmly. "Still, I wish I had a dick to push into an unwilling woman. Feeling inside a woman as she fights to keep you out -- squeezing your shaft as tight as she can as you push in. That's got to be something." Tigre smiled. "Still, we can improvise."

Tigre walked slowly around Technofox, so she could watch as the felid quietly slipped her dildo into her panties, and through a slit. Technofox stared at it, shocked, and Tigre licked her finger and touched the end. She looked over at Firefox. "Tits has plenty of juice to spare, I think. She won't mind."

She walked over in front of Firefox, and took the shaft in one hand. Firefox tried to squirm out of the way, but Tigre grabbed the base of her tail and, with a single slow thrust, buried it into Firefox. She smiled, pumped slightly, as though daring Firefox to make her pull out, and withdrew. She ran a hand over Firefox's breast, pads rough against her nipples. "Thanks, sweet thing."

Technofox was frantically shaking her head. Tigre stepped behind her, pushed down on the small of her back, kicked her legs wider apart. She pushed Technofox's tail up against her back, and threw her weight against her.

Technofox squealed helplessly as Tigre sodomized her, pushing the dildo in until her loins nestled against Technofox's butt. "There is one thing I like about this," Tigre said conversationally, ignoring the fact Technofox was too hysterical to understand her. "Men pump you until they're satisfied. But I can keep going all night. You like that thought, honey? No matter how sore your ass gets, I won't stop. It's got to hurt more than a man would. I like that. It's funny. Some women think I'll go easy on them. You think I'm a soft touch, little bitch?"

With each thrust, the vibrator dangling from Firefox's clitoris buzzed softly. She knew that dozens of eyes were on her, that this was all a deliberate attempt to break her dignity. She tried to distract herself, to think about math, but all she could see was Technofox's face as she struggled under Tigre's weight and power. And she knew that Tigre was expertly coaxing Technofox along, pleasuring Technofox even as she pounded her from behind. Technofox couldn't conceal her orgasm, and the shame of it was written in her face.

Then Tigre withdrew, trailed a hand down Technofox's shoulder, and took up the whip.

She used it expertly, ruthlessly, quickly reducing Technofox to a shuddering, sobbing wreck. Periodically, Tigre would pause and embrace Technofox; the little technician forced herself to respond ardently, trying, helplessly, to buy herself a few minutes of peace with her dignity.

"That's ten, honey," Tigre said. "Want some more?"

Technofox shook her head, weakly.

"Wanna fuck?"

Technofox hesitated, and miserably, nodded. Tigre chuckled and patted her shoulder. "Maybe tomorrow." She removed the strap-on and held it thoughtfully. She looked at Technofox, and forced it back into her anus as Technofox squirmed.

"Hold that for me, honey. If it falls out, you get another five. Understand?"

Lazily, the tiger turned to Firefox, and walked up to her. She stood in front, and ran hands lightly over Firefox's struggling body as the vibrator hummed.

"You're almost as wet as I am, tits," she purred, and stepped behind her. She stroked Firefox for the audience, petting her breasts, her nipples, her flat belly, and then, and then, she put one hand between Firefox's legs and used her other hand to pinch a nipple with her claws.

"Everyone's looking at you, beautiful," she said. "Everyone can see how much you're enjoying this. Come for them, pretty fox. Come for me." A rough tongue lapped at Firefox's shoulder; strong teeth nibbled.

They didn't know that Firefox had been wearing a vibrator on her clitoris for the last hour; but they saw her gasp for breath, twist and strain against the chains as she climaxed explosively on the stage.

"That was beautiful," Tigre whispered. She touched Firefox with the coiled whip, ran it up and down her belly, her breasts, and between her legs, making Firefox twitch, and not with pain. "You think a normal girl would enjoy this so much? I wonder why it's so easy to make you come."

There was a nasty undercurrent to Tigre's voice, as though she knew something Firefox didn't; Firefox looked at her, inquiringly, on a reflex.

"I'd like the audience to see the whip land on your back," Tigre said conversationally, "But you're turned the wrong way. Whatever should we do about that? Ponder."

Firefox started shaking. The fur on her back was thick and she knew that was the least sensitive part of her skin. And, of course, she was facing the audience. The lights were bright and she couldn't see them, but she was somehow aware of movement out there, that they were leaning forward in anticipation. Silverfox caught Firefox's eye and started weeping. Tigre walked around Firefox again, stood in front of her, and let her whip uncoil to the floor. Her eyes fixed on the upper curve of Firefox's left breast, where the skin was held taut by the weight.

Firefox panicked, struggled, begged Tigre not to do it. Being whipped on the back suddenly didn't seem so bad. Her flesh crawled, and she felt more naked than she ever had before. Tigre smiled slightly, savoring her fear, and flicked her wrist back.

The whip snaked a line of fire across Firefox's breast, agonizing. Firefox shrieked and flinched away; Silverfox closed her eyes and her ears flattened. There was an oddly lucid moment, where Firefox could look down and see the trail in her fur left by the whip without feeling it.

Then the pain hit, sharp and hard. Firefox felt dizzy and nauseous, and shook her head violently. Tigre smiled, and flicked her wrist back.

It landed directly on line in her fur. Firefox jerked and twisted, her bowels opened, and she would have shat herself if she hadn't been cleaned out before.

"That's two," Tigre said softly. "You're going to have more stripes than I do when I'm finished."

The third was across her belly, the fourth on her right breast. Not the nipple, Firefox thought desperately. Please, not that. Her chest, above her navel. Then, shifting up a little, one stroke that flowed across the bottom curve of both breasts.

Soon, the ache from the stripes was worse than the sharp flick of the whip. Shortly after that, Firefox lost count, even lost the ability to localize the pain. The pain became ambient, sharp fire and dull aches across her stomach and breasts instead of her relatively insensitive back, buttocks, and shoulders. There was a pause, and Firefox opened her eyes.

"I'm going to indulge myself on the last one," Tigre said amiably. "I'm going to go for a house record for the longest unbroken stripe on a woman's front. Try to stand still, okay?"

To her amazement, Firefox found herself trying to stand still as the whip's tip touched her collarbone and slid straight down, between her breasts, leaving her body slightly below her navel.

As Firefox writhed, she heard thunderous applause from the audience. It hit her like a hammer, the knowledge they would applaud all the more if the beating went on, that her anguish was their pleasure.

Tigre bowed to the audience. "Thank you. It's always good when an artist's work is appreciated. The flogging is over for now, but I'm going to be having a little fun before the props are removed. Feel free to stay and watch."

Tigre's eyes flicked over all four, and Firefox desperately wished they would stop on one of the others. But no, Tigre looked at her, and -- and the others looked relieved, and for a moment, Firefox hated them.

Tigre played with Firefox's breasts, rough tongue, teeth, and claws. She paid almost as much attention to the welts as to her nipples. She then looked deep into Firefox's eyes, and pushed the handle of the whip into her, so deep it bumped against her cervix.

Tigre pumped the whip with one hand, and reached between her own legs with the other, masturbating as she impaled Firefox with the rough, leather handle. And even though each thrust hurt more than the last as Tigre rubbed Firefox's sore and delicate loins, Firefox squirmed and thought, This isn't so bad. I can handle this.

Tigre pulled it roughly out of her and used it on herself, finally climaxing with a long, low snarl. She grinned at Firefox, who looked back at her miserably.

... and suddenly, Firefox's eyes slid off Tigre and into the audience, and the obvious hit her.

The guests were here for fun. They wouldn't want to pass through one steel door after another, to stand in security lines, to be searched. Blue Diamond had to give them emergency exits. And the nature of the facility meant that the slaves had to be in close contact with guests, every night.

That was the weak spot in Blue Diamond's security.

Some time after that, Tigre looked offstage. "Last one's out, sir?" she asked.

A man in semi-formal work clothes came out. He wore an earplug and mike, and carried a tablet computer. "That's right. What do we do with the props?"

Tigre rearranged her top; her breast had fallen out. She looked at Firefox thoughtfully. "This one, and her," she said pointing at Shadowfox, "go to the infirmary, sir. They got twenty." She pointed at Silverfox. "She can footstool, sir. Oh, don't look upset, girl. It's work you can do without laying down, and someone has to cover for the black fox." She looked at Technofox thoughtfully, and walked over.

Technofox looked away. Tigre reached behind her, yanked the dildo out, and tossed it to the floor. "You dropped it," she said lightly.

When Technofox looked at her, horrified, Tigre laughed. "Just kidding. I'd like to work you over some more, I really would, but Master has other ideas. You can work with the choreographer. Like that idea better?" Technofox's ears flattened. Tigre chuckled. "I will not be offended if you choose to obey Master over me. I am his dog," she said, proudly.

Technofox then nodded hopefully. "Good girl." Tigre looked back at the man with the tablet computer. "Choreography training, sir. And sir, I don't like her hair. Please tell the hairdresser to work on that, sir."

It was, Firefox thought, a strange little power drama. Tigre was obviously in charge, but her tone was unfailingly respectful as though she were his subordinate. Top slave seemed to carry significant authority.

Tigre looked back at Firefox, as though considering for a long moment. "And sir, please ask the infirmary to measure this one's welts. I was trying for a house record, sir."

He chuckled. "If you get it, I'll buy you a steak dinner."

Tigre's face changed subtly before she looked back at him. "If my duties permit, thank you, sir."