FireFox

Chapter 11

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.

Tiomkin smiled at her.

"She said I had a customer," Firefox snapped. She had nerved herself for a stranger, not this.

"That's right, Red," Tiomkin replied. "You do." He took off his khaki cap, put it on the beautiful table meant for a guest's laptop.

"You mean you're paying for this?" Firefox asked, suspicious.

He shrugged. "Employee discount," he said.

He took off his jacket, lay it on a chair. Underneath, he wore a T-shirt from some bar in San Diego. He held the jacket as though it were heavy, and it didn't fold like simple cloth: some sort of padded impact armor, Firefox realized. Probably equipment, too. He'd be screwing her within minutes. And she didn't think she could go along with it. She could have done it for a stranger, but not him, not after what he had done to her.

His shock gloves ran almost to his elbows, with plugs leading into a box at the small of his back. She watched the muscles move under his skin as he took them off: he probably worked out. He lay the gloves next to his hat, with the battery. She heaved a sigh of relief; too loud; he turned to her and grinned.

"Thinking of old times, Red?" he asked. "Back in the cell, when you gave me a titty fuck?" He looked at her breasts, the t-shirt stretched tight across them. "Glad to be out of that damn jacket and gloves. Been looking forward to playing with those barehanded."

He took off his canvas shoes, dropped them on the floor. Her ears flattened.

He opened his belt and lowered his pants to the floor. He was wearing a cup, and for some reason, she felt a moment's relief, as though his dick wouldn't be out within a few minutes. She tested the bonds holding her spread-eagled on the bed; there was no give or weakness.

He straddled her, dropped his weight on her, pushing her butt hard against the bed. She whimpered as her sore buttocks protested.

"Whoa, whoa," he said, suddenly alarmed. "You okay?"

"Cheshire just caned me," Firefox replied immediately, and just as immediately regretted it. Now he knew where to hit her.

"Oh, sorry," he said, to her surprise. "I didn't know." He looked at the bed. There were plenty of extra pillows. He took a pair. "Pick up your ass," he ordered.

Obediently, she arched her back; he placed a pillow at her lower back and upper thighs, lifting her buttocks slightly off the bed. "There. Comfy, Big Red?" he asked, as she settled down on them

"Thanks," she said, suspiciously. Yes, it worked -- it took weight off her burning buttocks.

"Don't mention it." He took his eyes off her face, and started rubbing her breasts through the fabric of her shirt.

"What about our ..." she trailed off.

"Our deal?" Tiomkin asked. "Don't worry. There's no microphones. I've got a one-gram pack, and it's yours for dessert. God, but your tits feel good."

"I don't want it," Firefox snapped, immediately before she thought it out.

He looked puzzled, as well he should. That would make no sense to him.

"Shit, honey," he said finally, "if you weren't planning on coming across for blow, what were you going to pay with?"

And now she was in the situation Silverfox had warned her about: he had his product, he wanted her to pay. Worse, she couldn't report him for rape, because this was all sanctioned.

"I changed my mind," she said finally. "I don't want to play."

"Oh, you don't?" he asked, arms folded. He brightened. "I get it. You've got another supplier. Regular? One of the other guards?"

She lifted her eyebrows. "Think I'll tell you?"

"Fair enough." he considered. "Well, since I'm a gentleman, I'll give you the stuff anyway." He pinched her nipples.

"No," Firefox repeated.

"What the fuck makes you think it's your decision?" Tiomkin asked, peeved. "You're a slave cunt. Your owner said I could."

"I don't want to," she hissed.

"Ah. Well, good thing you're tied up, then."

She closed her eyes and licked her lips. There was nothing delicate, nothing light and tantalizing in his play: he squeezed and pinched and groped without any pretense of bringing her pleasure: it was the sort of treatment she would tolerate from a lover for no more than a few minutes at a time, as a favor to him or her. It wasn't foreplay, as much as it was use. If he were paying any attention to her reaction at all, it was to see how much she could take, to laugh at any sign of the humiliation she felt.

"Do you like tits too?" he asked in conversational tones. She opened her eyes, in shock. How could he even imagine she would talk to him about that? He gave her a moment to reply and shrugged. "Well, if you don't want to talk, I guess foreplay's over." He reached to his hip.

"Yes," Firefox said immediately. She looked away.

He smiled, stroked her cheek with the back of his hand. "I knew it. You're no dyke, that's for sure." He suddenly brushed a finger across her nipples, stiff and protruding through the thin fabric of her shirt. "Hard as rocks, and anyway, dykes like your gray friend get special treatment." She squirmed and he chuckled. "But there's something in the way you look at the other girls, like you're wondering what their beaver tastes like. Still, I figured I was wrong, that you were straight."

She looked at him, suddenly curious. "Why?"

"Tigre," he explained. "She's had you licking her slit so much I thought maybe you were straight and she got off on making you go down on her anyway. She likes doing that, you know. Forcing women."

"Like you?" Firefox asked, bitterly.

"Be fair, Red," he objected. "Look at your rack. Tell me that you wouldn't bang a girl that stacked if you could."

"I wouldn't," Firefox snapped, "because I'm not a rapist."

He twitched. "Don't call me that."

She stared at him, appalled. "Give me a break," she said, in pure disbelief. "God damn it, I'm chained to a bed and your dick's practically hanging out. What do you call this? Dinner and a movie?"

"You're not even human," he said curtly.

"Can you hear the words coming out of my mouth? Do you understand what I'm saying? Whip it out and do me. It's no big deal. You've done it before. I've been done before. Wake me when you're through."

She closed her eyes and looked away. He would rip her shirt off, first, suck on them for a while before pulling her panties off. And he'd find she was wet -- she knew she'd be wet -- and he'd laugh at her and go to it. And she'd climax.

He didn't move for a long time. Finally, she opened her eyes out of curiosity.

He was looking down at her breasts. "I could suck on those all night long," he said, as though to himself. "Shit."

He reached behind the headboard, and she flinched as he took out a chain and attached it to her collar. "Rules say you have to be leashed," he said. "I've got my equipment with me."

He then reached down to one of her ankles and undid the chain there. Puzzled, she watched as he undid the second one. Did he want to fight her legs open, feel her kick?

He hesitated. "Before I undo the wrists," he said, "you have to promise me you won't hit me."

"You're kidding," Firefox said, unable to believe what she had just heard.

"Promise," he repeated.

"I promise not to hit you first," Firefox said firmly, with emphasis.

He laughed. "Good enough, Red." He released her wrists, one at a time. Immediately, she jumped up into a sitting position, brought her knees up and stared at him.

"I'm not letting you tie me back down," she said uncertainly.

"Fine," he said. He reached over her for the remote. He turned the TV on to a sports channel, lay down on the bed next to her.

The show switched to sumo wrestling and he moved for the remote. "Wait," she said, surprising herself. "I want to see how Takashita's doing."

He glanced at her. "You're a sumo fan?" he asked.

"Well, not so much," she hedged. "A friend's really into it." Shadowfox would want to know -- she had met Takashita at a chimera rights benefit in Osaka. He wasn't in the championships. Too bad.

This was feeling surreal. She wanted to run as far as the leash allowed, kick him off the bed, something. She was forcing herself to make conversation, to act like a woman instead of a sex slave, to make him see her that way.

"Two fat guys running into each other?" he asked.

"Well, there's more to it than that," she said. "It's not just power. There's finesse, balance as well."

He looked at the screen, dubiously. "Finesse?" he asked.

"Sure. If either contestant gets bloody, the match is called. They can't just slam into one another. They have to throw one another off balance. There's a lot of power there, but also a lot of control."

"Really?" he asked, and looked back at the screen.

"Sure. Fat people can be graceful. Think of Jackie Gleason."

"Yeah, I guess," he said, musing.

"And it's a great example of nature against nurture," she said, pointing. "Look what you get when a Japanese guy eats enough meat."

"Speaking of eating meat --"

"Oh, just fuck off," Firefox snapped, suddenly exhausted. She eyed him, and wondered if she would actually have to fight him while wearing a leash.

He looked at her, nonplussed. "I was going to ask what you wanted for dinner."

She hesitated. Incredibly, she believed him. "Sorry."

"I wasn't going to ask you for a blow job," he explained. "I didn't notice you gave me an opening."

Despite herself, Firefox grinned and laughed out loud.

"I'd like chicken," Firefox said, finally.

"KFC okay? I don't get a discount from the restaurant," he said, picking up the phone.

"KFC will be fine," Firefox said honestly. And she was actually looking forward to it. For too long, she had either eaten kibble out of a plastic dish or elegant preparations on fine china; she was in the mood for something in between. "There's a KFC in Blue Diamond?"

"Yeah, and a Pizza Hut. I'll just get a bucket; we can have leftovers for breakfast. Fries or mashed?"

"Mashed, with gravy. Oh, and some strawberry shortcake. I'm surprised the restaurant puts up with the competition."

He pressed some buttons, apparently preferring to use the pad rather than trust the voice recognition software. "The restaurant's more attached to the hotel. We get a lot of day trippers, out for the casinos. You're part of the premium service, so you don't see much of that."

Firefox nodded slowly. Yes, she could imagine it. Some PG-rated posters in the casino, delicately hinting what was available elsewhere. Come see our showgirls on the Floor. Then, in the Floor, make it clear that some extra would get those showgirls in your bed. She imagined that not too many big winners brought all their take back to the mainland. Well, at least not the straight men.

"Why are you calling me Red?" she asked.

He shrugged. "That's your nickname with the guards. Red, Gray, Black, and Schoolgirl."

"My name is Ch -- Firefox," she said.

He shrugged. "Whatever."

Her butt was sore, so she shifted further down, back onto the pillows he had arranged to make her more comfortable. "Why did you do that?" she asked.

He looked at her, confused. "To order food."

"I mean the pillows."

"Oh." Her paused, as though wondering. "I dunno," he finally decided. "I mean as long as I'm having fun, why go out of my way to make it worse? I guess it's like when the slave starts crying. As long as they're putting up a fight, swearing at you, it's a kick. But if they start crying and begging ... I dunno, it's more like you're hurting someone. That make any sense?" he asked her.

Firefox didn't know what to say to that at first.

"You don't think it hurts us?" she asked, finally. "You've seen the cells. Do you live like that? Would you want to?"

"Well ... no," he admitted. "But your kind is bred for it."

"If we're bred for it, why the chains and bars?" she asked.

"To keep you here and under control. You're an expensive investment," he explained.

"You have a sister? Wanna bet Tigre would keep her under control?"

Firefox noticed, suddenly, that her leg was pressing up against his. She didn't feel an urge to recoil, oddly enough. She wondered if he had moved to touch her or if she had moved to touch him.

"Let's leave my family out of this," he said steadily.

"Sure. Just remember something. It's happening to me. And you won't even imagine it happening to your sister."

He folded his arms and glared at the screen for a minute, pretending to watch it. Finally, he spoke.

"I'm not fucking you right now, am I?"

"No."

"Then stop complaining."

She watched the screen. Either he had changed the channel without her noticing, or the sumo show had been replaced by hovercraft races.

"Thank you," she finally said.

"What?" he asked.

"Thank you for listening when I said no. I appreciate it."

"You're welcome."

They went silent a bit after that. It was an awkward moment.

"My sister wouldn't have orgasms on stage," he said, finally.

She wondered how he'd react if he knew Victoria was human. Well, he'd never believe it, and besides, there wasn't much of a point in arguing against that. She had decided, uncomfortably, that at one level they had told her the truth at Blue Diamond. The act of sex was tremendously more satisfying once Blue Diamond had removed the blocks.

"Yeah," she admitted. "That's a difference between us and humans. It's pretty easy to make us climax. And the men -- male chimera -- have much better control than humans. I remember how weird it was, my first time with a human male, how I didn't believe that he came without wanting to. Shadowfox had to tell me it was true. One chimera I knew made me beg him to come into me."

Firefox cut herself short, realizing what she was saying. She was talking about sex while leashed to a bed with a serial rapist. Involuntarily, she looked down at his cup; it was slightly ajar, pushed by the force of his erection; and she found herself thinking the word tantalizing.

It was actually an effort to lie still, not to open his cup, and gently take his erection into her mouth. She imagined herself doing it, how it would look, and how it would taste, and she felt aroused, as though she were with a lover.

There was a knock at the door, much to her relief and disappointment.

He got off the bed, grabbed a robe out of the bathroom and peered through the peephole before tossing the robe on a hook and opening the door. It was Mary, the deer chimera. He let her in. He didn't need to explain: the robe was in case it was delivered by a human. Being half naked in front of a chimera didn't count.

Mary looked at Firefox, leashed to the bed and clothed, and to Tiomkin, trying to suppress her puzzlement. She sniffed the air for the scent of sex, and looked even more confused when she didn't notice it. Why wasn't Tiomkin balling Firefox? He had been with her for at least half an hour...

"Your order, sir," Mary said. She dropped gracefully to the floor and touched her tongue respectfully to his foot.

"Good girl," he said, distracted. He took out a dime and put his hand deep into her cleavage, squeezing her breasts as he did so. She laughed, lightly, as though this was amusing.

"Do you want me to help with her?" Mary asked, pointing to Firefox. "I can get her wet for you, or hold her wrists, or bring you a crop or cane." She was obviously looking forward to the possibility, and Firefox was sure she wasn't acting.

"No, girl. You can go." She stood up. "One moment," he said, and opened her blouse.

Her breasts spilled out, brown fur and white, and without any pause for permission or even warning, he suckled at her nipples as she closed her eyes, and moaned softly, delicately, with pure animal pleasure. She shot Firefox a look of triumph, as though she had won something. You're tied to his bed, and he wants to nurse from me, not you. He rewarded her with a nickel, which she took with a giggle and smile and licked his hand before leaving.

Firefox watched her leave, her own soul sinking in defeat. After seeing a chimera behave like that -- after the scores or hundreds of chimera who had behaved like that; sensual, beautiful, enthusiastically and utterly servile; how could he be blamed for thinking it was bred into them? Why would he be convinced when Firefox told him that she, herself, was a free woman and wanted the same respect he would expect for his own sister?

"Now Mary's a good girl," he said. He went to the bathroom, and brought out a towel. Firefox watched him narrowly as he spread it on the bed, relaxed when he used it as a tablecloth for paper plates. "I don't know why I told her to get out. I could have used her to relax. To tell you the truth, it's not going to be easy to stay here all night without screwing you." He said it ruefully. And in an odd way, she appreciated his honesty. She knew it wasn't out of respect for her. Quite the opposite: he was saying what was on his mind because it was like confiding with the family dog; comforting but unnecessary.

"Why didn't you?" Firefox asked. She picked out two drumsticks, served herself some mashed potatoes, and poured on some gravy. She dipped the drumstick into the gravy and bit deep. Heavenly. How strange that something this cheap would taste so good. Cheap? For a moment she imagined paying for this out of nickel and quarter tips, remembered feeling a stranger's teeth and tongue on her nipples in return for a dime.

He looked at her face. "I don't know. I didn't feel like it."

She looked back at him, remembered him taking off his pants while she was naked and tied on the floor of her cell; remembered his weight against her ribs, his penis, hard and urgent, between her breasts. She felt her blood racing, and not in anger. She remembered the friction on the insides of her breasts, watching his head piston in and out against the white fur, and she wanted to feel that again.

"They're going to ask me how much force I had to use," he said. "We have to come up with a story. And you have to take a hot bath in the morning, or they'll know we didn't." She finished her dessert, while he put the leftovers into a little refrigerator. She wondered if he was going to put his pants on, and she hoped he wouldn't, and she kicked herself for wishing that. He bent over, muscles in his buttocks moving smoothly under skin. He looked over at her; flustered, she looked away; her face burned, and she was glad he couldn't see her blush. He was still erect.

She wished he would say something rude or crass as he came back to bed, something that would let her anger come up again, anger that she could use to block this other feeling she had, rising in her belly.

She decided she was going to suggest, delicately, that he could masturbate. It would relax him, and make him less likely to solicit sex from her later. And then, no, that wouldn't be a good idea, because it would be better if she kept control of the situation. Yes, it would.

He lay next to her. Her hand drifted over to him of its own accord, rested lightly on his hip. If he grabbed at her, she would have exploded with rage; sensing this, instead he sat, quietly, letting her set the pace. It wasn't so much delicacy, she thought, as it was patience: like a man sitting and allowing a nervous dog to creep towards him and sniff, instead of frightening it by moving towards it. And even knowing that, she was helpless. She imagined him buried inside her, and knew she craved that beyond all sense and reason.

Maybe she was responding to what gallantry he had shown; doubly flattering from such an unexpected source. Or maybe -- yes, that was it -- she would fool Blue Diamond. They were bound to check if she had orgasmed with him, and they would look for traces of sperm if she hadn't. So she would fool them into thinking she was an obedient slave girl willing to have sex with him by ... yes, she'd masturbate him, rub some semen into her fur, later she could touch herself. That would fool Blue Diamond into thinking they had had sex.

"H -- here," she stammered. "Let me help -- let me help relax you." She started to undo his cup, nervous fingers un-coordinated.

"Wait," he said. He put his hand on hers. "First, get naked for me," he ordered.

She hesitated. Well, she'd have to anyway, she realized. She took off her panties first, the panties that were designed to be ripped off, like her shirt. She hesitated with her shirt -- if she took it off, it would still be threaded through the leash. 

He took the pillow that was under his head and tossed it to the floor. He lay on his back. "Here. Sit on my face." It wasn't an invitation, and she felt herself complying instinctively.

She knelt over him, facing the head of the bed. Slowly, carefully, she lowered herself down, so her pelvis rested on his mandible, where his teeth and the curve of his chin formed a small saddle for her, almost as though she was meant to rest there. She thought it curious that her own muzzle wouldn't allow her to do the same for another woman; as a pleasure model, in so many ways her body had been carefully optimized for this, and yet Tiomkin was in a position she'd have difficulty keeping.

His hands slid up her body. Before he could order it, she lifted her shirt, rolling it up above her breasts, exposing them for his touch before leaning forward, resting her head on folded arms on the head of the bed.

His lips found hers. He kissed her down there, deeply and passionately. Each time his lips pursed and she felt them move against her, her tongue darted out, licked her own upper lip, as though trying to return the favor. Her eyes were open, and she stared at the headstand of the bed. It was rigid, heavily constructed, generously supplied with D-rings. She saw the glittering links of her leash, and in that moment she knew she would never see a chrome chain again without thinking of sex, without longing to feel that chain tug at a collar, a wristband, an ankle band on her own body.

She closed her eyes, conscious thought vanishing for a moment as his tongue flicked across her clitoris. She gasped and inhaled sharply through clenched teeth as sensation filled her.

His hands found her breasts, her hard nipples were being held between thumb and forefinger. There wasn't room inside her for outrage, or even regret; any reservations she had about letting him use her body were driven out of her by the intensity of what she was feeling. She couldn't think; all she could feel was pleasure; her only voice soft, inarticulate moans, yips, and sighs. He was using his tongue now, pressing it lightly between her vaginal lips, making her shiver intensely as he inserted and withdrew it.

As a defense, she began to fantasize, rather than admit to herself that she was enjoying this so much. She pretended he was a lover ... what was his name? The one who liked oral sex -- anything to avoid confronting herself with the fact she was enjoying the touch of a man who had raped Technofox.

He planted a firm kiss on her clitoris, sucking while dabbing at it with his tongue; his grip on her nipples became exquisite agony. And somehow, somehow she knew what was coming next. He would stop before she found completion.

"That's a good girl," he said, patting her buttock lightly, making Cheshire's welts twinge. "Now lie down next to me."

She slid down, obediently, and her hands went for his jockstrap. She'd rather make him come down her throat than let him --

"No, not yet," he said. He held her lightly. "Roll off your hip. Ass on the bed -- wait, I'm sorry. Let me move these pillows under your back first. Comfy?"

"Yes," she admitted. "Thank you." She stared up at the ceiling.

"Look at me," he ordered. "Eyes open. You can play with your tits if you want."

She found herself doing that, pushing them together, letting them fall apart, as his fingers entered her for lubrication.

She wondered if he was aware what he was doing to her, the level of cruelty he was inflicting on her, as he calmly masturbated her to a shattering climax, forcing her to look at the face of the first man who had used her as a slave.

And as she came, intensely, for him, her body convulsing involuntarily, she knew that he was doing it because it pleased him to watch her, and that thought excited her even more.

"There's a good girl," she heard him say. He took off his shirt; she watched him, silently. She helped him out of his jock strap, mounted him. She considered taking him into her mouth to moisten him, but she realized she didn't need any extra help.

She positioned his head and slid down his shaft. She was so lubed she didn't need to inch him in; he slipped into her in a single, smooth motion, with no pain or discomfort: just a soft, shivering sensation as he filled her. He moaned softly and closed his eyes as she pulled him in.

"Okay, get started," he said.

She froze for a moment, troubled. She smiled at him. "Ask nicely," she said.

He opened his eyes and looked at her quizzically. When was the last time he had a woman who asked that of him. She grinned again, and squeezed his member. She leaned back, put her hands on her hips. "Say please," she ordered.

He chuckled. "You kidding?"

"Uh-uh," she said shaking her head languidly.

"I can't believe this," he said with a grin.

"If you can't ask a favor from a lady like a gentleman," she said firmly, "You're not going to be welcome here much longer."

He laughed at loud. "All right, all right," he said with a chuckle. He shifted into a bogus southern accent which wouldn't have passed muster in an amateur production of Knights of Dixie. "Miss ... Scarlet," he finally said, "Ah'd be most obliged if you'd do me the favor of moving that sweet ass of your'n so's I can get off, ma'am."

She laughed back at him, and it was an honest laugh. "That would be mah pleasure, Squire Tiomkin," she replied in an accent which was almost, but not quite, as bad as her British one. "My mammy always tol' me that a lady of breedin' fucks a gentleman who chows down on her snatch."

She lay down on him now, breasts warm against his naked chest, the chain of her leash making the soft hissing noise of links moving against one another. She rested her face against his throat, closed her eyes, and slowly and carefully began to move her hips.

She smiled. Perhaps nobody could understand except another woman of Blue Diamond; but there, just getting a man like Tiomkin to say "please" was a major victory for a soul battered and made to crawl on the floor. Any scrap of dignity was a triumph for Firefox now.

They spent most of the night playing with each other, Firefox initiating it as often as he did, trying to tell herself that it wasn't so bad -- he had, after all, made her laugh. He came between her legs, as she gasped and held him tightly, moaning her own orgasm into his ear. He kissed her face gently, stroked it tenderly for a long time.

"Here," he said, "lie down on your back again."

She did, and he took her nipple into his mouth, kneading her breast tenderly.

Firefox lay back, passive, and closed her eyes and let the pleasure flow through her. His play was almost as intent as Tigre's, but his teeth weren't as sharp, and he had no claws. With Tigre, Firefox found the moments of pain almost as thrilling as the pleasure of her suckling. She stroked his head gently, and she had to admit she was enjoying herself.

And, in a way, that was more disturbing than anything else. Firefox enjoyed sex with Tigre; she had justified it to herself because of her love for the tiger. Tiomkin had no hold on her heart at all, so she had to lay there. Before Blue Diamond, she could imagine agreeing, reluctantly, to sex with someone she hated, to protect herself or someone else. She was a soldier and she had often wondered how she would handle rape. She could even imagine pretending to co-operate.

But if anyone had told her she could make enthusiastic love with a man who had brutalized her and Technofox, Firefox would have called them insane. Before she came to Blue Diamond, that is. She had learned how to disconnect sex and pleasure almost entirely from affection and love. If she could do this with Tiomkin, she could do it with Master or even Walton.

So, in her mind, it wasn't Tiomkin who was with her. Tiomkin was a thug she could never forgive. She was with an anonymous cock. It was the only way to remain sane.

She noticed he was getting hard again. "My turn," she said lightly, rolling him onto his back. She moved lightly onto him, taking him inside her mouth.

His member was a bit bigger than most. Most men's erect penises fit so neatly into her mouth that she had always suspected it was part of the specification of her phenotype. Her canines pinched the sides of his penis slightly, so she turned her head around, finding a better angle for him.

 Firefox knew that some girls, with shorter mandibles, had to learn how to relax their throats to take a man all the way into their mouths. Firefox's mouth was deep enough to make that unnecessary, and her tongue was long enough to slip around the entire length of his shaft as she fellated him. She could tell by the way he gasped and shivered that the experience of being so deep inside a woman's mouth was either new for him, or one he particularly enjoyed. Or both.

She opened her mouth wider for a moment, and ran her tongue over his tight testicles. Blue Diamond wasn't like the real world: apart from time spent with friends, sex was about dominance and submission to dominance. Oral sex was probably the most submissive act a woman could perform on a client: it was entirely for the client, with no release for the slave; it placed the client in a vulnerable position which the slave refused to exploit. Unlike being bound and raped, it required co-operation on her part. How strange, then, that it should be that same act which gave her the most control.

He squirmed under her, and she knew she was in charge, a puppeteer. He wasn't 'fucking her face,' she was drawing it out of him, controlling him. He moaned, gasped, even grabbed at her, in response to what she was doing to him.

It was mesmerizing, even exciting.

The experience was so delicious, she prolonged it, first from the sheer fun of it, and then, when he started begging her to let him come, from the sheer perverse pleasure of denying him release. He grabbed her hair, tried to thrust deep into her: instead of resisting or complying, she stopped, holding him lightly in her mouth, closing her jaws slightly, letting him feel the pressure of teeth against his member. Another woman might have complied to keep from choking, but Firefox breathed easily through her mouth through this, until he let the back of her head go and helplessly let her have her way with him.

Her jaw began to ache a few minutes after that, so she closed her lips, left him feel her mouth warm and tight around her. When he came, he wrenched so violently that he almost knocked Firefox off. But she stayed on him, succeeded in taking his flow within her, felt a flood down her throat. When he came, he came when she wanted him to, spilled his seed where she hungered for it.

He was panting when she lay quietly next to him. He pulled her into his arms, trembling, drawing warmth from her muscular and furry body.

"You're not even breathing hard," he gasped. He smiled. "You're a witch." He stroked her fur with two fingers, unable to do more or less than that. "God. I'll be feeling that for months."

"Remember that when you tip," she said. Suddenly, she was drowsy.

"I better let you use the bathroom." He got up, opened the door. He looked around for a moment, and then came out. He opened a walnut cabinet, which was stocked with riding crops, chains, and toys Firefox didn't even recognize, let alone know how to use. He took a long cable, attached one end to a tie in the bathroom, and the other end to her collar. He then released the leash holding her to the bed.

"You people are thorough," she said.

He smiled. "You're Blue Diamond too," he said. "The trick is to never let the woman off a leash or chain for a moment. It's almost as much psychological as it is physical." He seemed to remember something. "Almost forgot."

Yes, she thought, she could see that.

He picked up his shoe, and opened a flap in the sole. Out came a tiny ampoule, filled with white powder. "Have fun. Flush the wrapper, and make damn sure it goes down."

Firefox forced her first grin of the night. "Thanks!"

"No shower," he ordered. "We'll do that together, in the morning." He grinned. "It's a lot easier now you can wipe your own ass."

She opened the capsule, poured its contents into the toilet. She sat; it was a soft seat, and the ring shape was comfortable. She wondered if she should pretend to be affected by the drug. Yeah, just be energetic. She closed the door, stared down at the floor, at the coiled cable linked to the wall, like a long dog tie.

She remembered the same man taking her, tied, to the toilet. Shit and shower, fifteen minutes. She remembered how she had felt each time he had touched her. It seemed so naive, even childish, now -- it was hard to believe that she had once struggled over letting him come on her breasts, now that she had given him what she suspected was the best blow job of her life. Had she lost something, or gained it?

She finished, washed, and went back to him with unfeigned eagerness. Hate the man, love the sex, she thought, as she embraced him, kissed him, licked him, felt his fingers run through her fur. And she couldn't help but think it was a profound and important thing to remember.

He kissed her lightly on the forehead, and she was disturbed to detect nothing there but affection.

She slept soundly, his arm possessively around her. 

She awoke a few hours later, as he slipped the head of his penis past her vaginal lips. She murmured a feeble rejection, tried to squirm away, stopped when she realized he would take her regardless, and being unwilling to turn it into a fight. He didn't wait for her to wake fully, but at least he did enter her slowly, spreading her lube with and along his shaft.

He would keep a firm, gentle pressure on her for a few moments, stop, withdraw slightly, and then push himself back in, a little deeper. She squirmed a bit each time his shaft entered new ground, and licked her lips silently.

Finally, he slipped all the way inside her, all his weight on her body. Her butt didn't hurt much -- she healed quickly -- but he smiled down at her in a way that made her feel apprehensive. He had been (relatively speaking) kind so far; had he decided to get off on some violence now?

He put his hand on her cheek, stroked it gently while kissing her. He was sheathed inside her, filling her without moving. Firefox tried to move her hips, to get him to start thrusting. He moved with her, keeping their pelvises together.

Puzzled, she relaxed, and he suddenly withdrew and thrust, once, so hard and deep and so unexpectedly she gasped in surprise as much in pleasure. He smiled again.

"Getting back at me for the blow job?" she asked.

He didn't answer her for a few moments. Instead, he moved his hand over her breast, stroking the fur lightly in towards the nipple. It wasn't until his fingers actually touched the bare, wrinkled flesh of her areola that he replied.

"Probably," he said.

She gave him a half-smile. "You won't get me to beg for it," she said.

"Maybe not," he mused, and kissed her, silencing her for a bit. "I got your friend, that little fox, to beg me for more," he said.

She stiffened under him. "With a whip?" she hissed.

He laughed at her. "Don't be stupid." He kissed her. "You like that, don't you? You think your friends are nuns or virgins or something?" He patted her breast. "Yeah, she had to be tied down, but believe me -- she came almost as hard and fast as you do. You should have heard her. 'Please let me come, sir.' 'Fuck me deeper, sir.' 'I want it in my ass, sir.'" He mimicked Technofox's light voice and quick speech.

She could feel her hackles rising. "You fucking rapist."

He thrust into her, hard and deep, and she gasped. A second thrust seemed to touch her clitoris, sending a sharp burst of pleasure through her. She cried out on the third, wrapped her arms and legs tightly around him, embracing him. She squeezed his member, still inside her, while she shuddered with pleasure.

His kisses, light, tender, felt as sweet as flowers. She kissed him back, instinctively, helplessly, as though he were a treasured lover and not a man who had violated one of her oldest and dearest friends.

One? No, he had probably had all of them by now. And all she wanted was...

He patted her gently, as though trying to comfort her. "It's okay," he assured her. "I'm just trying to cheer you up. Don't worry so much about her. Sure, it's harder to get her engine running, but once it is she loves this as much as you do."

She didn't want to think about that.

"Say please," he said with a smile.

She wanted to. She really wanted to. It would be so easy to.

"This is Blue Diamond," she said instead. "'Please fuck me' means 'don't hit me.' I don't have words to say yes. That's your fault, not mine."

She met his eyes. He was angry, for a moment. She kissed his nose. "I'm sure Mary's available," she said.

He grinned, suddenly, and chucked. "You're a challenge," he said, finally, affectionately, before settling in her arms and thrusting again. She closed her eyes. Oh, it was sweet, it was everything she wanted.

She closed her eyes, as the hot water ran down over her face. She stood still, as his hands rubbed shampoo into her fur.

She grinned. "I'm going to have the cleanest tits in Blue Diamond," she said.

"They get a lot of work," he said. "You need to take special care of them."

She laughed. "Turn around," he ordered, rinsed soap off her nipple, and applied his lips. She stood still, enjoying the thrill.

Three days from now, she remembered Tigre telling her. Two days now. No, it would be tomorrow -- one day, one more night.

"Do you know what I'm doing today?" Firefox asked.

He shrugged, uninterested.

Cheshire came into the room. She was wearing a robe, carrying her cane, and Firefox was surprised to note that she actually seemed to need it: there was a slight twinge in her left knee Firefox hadn't seen before.

She looked at Firefox directly for a moment; Firefox looked back, steadily. Cheshire glanced briefly at the floor, reminding Firefox who they were. Firefox dropped her robe to the floor, knelt, licked Cheshire's foot, and returned to a kneel. Cheshire didn't touch her ear right away to release her.

"Lean forward," Cheshire ordered. "Ass up." She lifted her cane.

The ten strokes were delivered quickly, with a minimum of fuss, and relatively lightly. Firefox gasped and swore under her breath, but there was no screaming. Her head was turned towards Tiomkin. Their intimacy during the night did not prevent him from watching and enjoying it.

"You'll fill out her appraisal form?" Cheshire asked Tiomkin.

"Done," Tiomkin said politely. "I've got it on my handheld, and it should update the next time it synchs with the network."

His body language and tone made it clear that Cheshire, and presumably other tamers, were senior to him. Of course, he wouldn't actually call a slave "ma'am," but that was the only thing missing. Cheshire nodded. "Thank you, sir," she said, the 'sir' added for politeness and having little to do with what it meant when Firefox needed to use it.

"May I take her to her next assignment?" Tiomkin asked, again politely, never implying that Cheshire might have trouble keeping Firefox under control.

"Yes, thank you."

"No trouble." He picked up his pants, took out a five, and let Firefox hold it lightly between her teeth.

"Take her to Torment 310," Cheshire said. "Leash to the floor, naked."

Firefox was silent; nothing she could say would keep her from being beaten; she wracked her mind trying to remember if she had done anything to justify more than the daily ten.

"Your guard gave you a good review," Cheshire said, glancing at a handheld. Firefox nodded, warily. Firefox was leashed, with the end hooked onto the floor.

Cheshire tucked the handheld away into a black leather holster with chrome studs. That basically described the rest of her costume. Firefox didn't even know they made dominatrix PDA holsters. That meant unlike Tigre, Cheshire wasn't part of the network.

Cheshire was sitting on a chair, her cane within reach. Firefox was squatting on the floor, arms folded over her naked breasts, legs crossed. Cheshire paused and platted Firefox's head.

"You seem nervous," Cheshire said. "Are you afraid?"

Firefox hesitated, wondering if she should tell the truth, or say what she wanted Cheshire to believe. The truth won. "Yes, ma'am."

"Ah," Cheshire said with a quiet nod, as though wondering why Firefox could possibly be apprehensive. "Yes, I can understand that. Would it help if I told you that you are not in this room for punishment, that I will not be hitting you unless you treat me disrespectfully?"

Relief flooded Firefox. "Yes, ma'am. Thank you. I was wondering what I had done."

"Nothing bad," Cheshire assured her. "We're just going to sit here and have a little conversation." She paused. "Just to be honest, I will beat you if you take too long to answer my questions. If you try to ward off the blows, I will ask Tigre for help. Do you understand what your day will be like then?"

It was obvious that they would not be discussing the weather. "Yes, ma'am. Ma'am, with respect, may I have some clothes?"

Cheshire blinked and shook her head. "No, I think this works better. You're a very headstrong girl and I want you to remember what you are and what I am."

"Yes, ma'am," Firefox agreed.

"Good." Cheshire sat silently for so long that Firefox wondered if she expected a reply to that. Then the feline spoke. "Do you know what a dominatrix is?"

"Yes, ma'am," Firefox said. "Like you, or Tigre."

"Ah," Cheshire said, raising a single finger. "Words are important. In Blue Diamond, Tigre is not primarily a dominatrix, although she has done that work. She's actually not very good at it, and she's the first to admit it. A dominatrix is to Tigre what a teddy bear is to sex. Tigre is a tamer, which is to say a teacher. She gets slaves to accept their purpose in life, encourages them to have a more positive attitude."

"Yes, ma'am."

Cheshire's eyes narrowed. "Tell me what Tigre's done for you."

Firefox hesitated. It was hard to force the words out of her mouth. "Tigre helped me realize what I really am."

"Good girl. A dominatrix, like me, is an entertainer pretending to be Tigre. When I'm calling some millionaire a miserable worm and cracking my whip over his head, I'm as much a slave in his service as you are, tied to a struggle board with Walton pumping you. In each case, we are being the woman the client wants."

"I'd rather be the woman with the whip. Ma'am," Firefox said, immediately and instinctively. After blurting that out, she wondered if it might be disrespectful.

It wasn't; Cheshire laughed delightedly. "Good for you. It's a noble ambition. It's the top of our profession. We're always hurting for dominatrices." She paused, and continued. "Sorry. I wanted to be the one to use those for once."

"I would think that most of the women here would prefer that work."

"Yes," Cheshire said thoughtfully. "It's a matter of training. Training and talent. You were doing rape fantasy before you agreed to work with us. That's because all you need for rape fantasy is a woman and a good set of ropes. For a good general-purpose whore, like you, last night, you need a co-operative woman. Being a dominatrix is much, much tougher than that. You need to read the client's mind, you need to order him to do things he wants to do while he begs you not to do them. Very difficult. Do you think many of the girls here are up to it?"

Firefox tilted her head. "I couldn't judge, ma'am," she evaded.

"That's fair. Anyone can just whirl a whip around and scream. You can get mainland girls to do that for two hundred an hour." Firefox recognized the same tone she had detected before in Tigre -- contempt for sex workers outside of Blue Diamond. Idly, she wondered about that need for pride, wondered if being a tamer brought it out, or if women who demanded it became tamers.

"But," the feline said, "this is Blue Diamond. Our clients and Master expect better. I don't want to waste time with you. If you don't think you're up for it, let me know now."

Oh, this is perfect, Firefox thought. Even if I can't hack it, I'll have days, weeks of training. It was almost as desirable as being made a chambermaid, waitress, or toilet cleaner. Firefox nodded, avidly, enthusiastically. "Yes, ma'am! I'm good for it."

Cheshire grinned. "All right then."

"I've never done anything like it before, though," Firefox hedged.

Cheshire nodded. "That's all right. We're good at instruction here. We even taught Victoria how to go down on a man." Cheshire seemed to watch Firefox's reaction to that, furtively.

Firefox kept her face still, then frowned lightly. It seemed pretty obvious that Cheshire was testing her, trying to see if she would react to something so obviously ludicrous. The problem was, though, that Firefox could hardly let Cheshire know she knew Victoria was really human. But even if she didn't know that, she would have to notice that what she said...

"Ma'am," Firefox said slowly, "With respect, I don't understand. How can a pleasure chimera leave a factory without knowing how to perform fellatio?"

Cheshire relaxed, just slightly. "Dental surgery," she explained, glibly. "The tooth caps changed the shape of the inside of her mouth. She spent almost a week re-learning."

Firefox nodded. "Thank you, ma'am," she said, strangely confident she had just dodged a bullet.

The feline got up, walked to a case on the wall, and took out a coiled whip. She tossed it over to Firefox, and gripped her cane. "We call that a two-meter light. It is made of lead shot embedded in a complex polymer matrix. The density is varied through the length of the whip so there's no need for a stiff section or taper."

Flogging is high-tech, Firefox thought, impressed despite herself.

"What that means," Cheshire continued, "is that it's possible to make a whip smaller and lighter than anything down on the old plantation. Old models, real bullwhips, would turn flesh to jelly. These don't. It only feels like it. Tigre uses that model, so you and I both know that."

Firefox nodded. How long had it taken for Cheshire to capitulate? She felt an odd sympathy for her, despite her privileged station. What must it be like to face Blue Diamond without the support of friends from the outside, without the comfort of knowing escape was inevitable?

"Tigre will be showing you the fine points, but today we'll just work on the basics." She took a second one off the wall, and let it uncoil to the floor. "Stand up. Hold it lightly. You don't want your wrist too stiff."

Firefox snapped the whip up, underhanded. She felt it uncoil, twisted the handle sharply. There was a loud, satisfying crack.

"Not bad," Cheshire said with a nod. "That's enough for today -- more than two hours is a bit much. Tomorrow you can start on ... targets."

Something in her tone made Firefox stiffen. "You mean a bull's-eye, ma'am?"

Cheshire laughed out loud. "Of course. You won't be hitting slaves for weeks."

Firefox didn't say anything. Yes, that would fit. They'd have her practice on slaves before they let her use a whip on a client. There seemed no point to tell Cheshire now that she would never cross that line.

"And your wrists are probably pretty sore anyway. Which is pretty ironic." Cheshire flashed a grin.

"Ma'am?" Firefox asked, hesitantly.

"You have work to do. You a football fan?" she asked.

"Not really, ma'am. I think I can be one, though."

Cheshire smiled again. "That's the spirit. Let's get you cheerleadered up. Toss me the whip."

"Yes ma'am. Who is the client?" Firefox asked, coiling the whip and throwing it to her. Cheshire, she noticed, was careful not to come within whip range of her. That had to be a bad sign. Firefox needed them to relax around her.

Cheshire handed her a skirt and a midriff-baring shirt. Only sleeves and a collar kept the shirt from being a handkerchief. It pushed her breasts together, showing off her cleavage almost to her nipples.

"You know Bull Harbison?" Cheshire asked.

Firefox blinked. Even people who didn't follow football knew Bull Harbison. "From the Boston Minutemen?" Firefox asked, stunned. The first chimera to play professional football. For a ludicrous moment, Firefox actually felt celebrity shock. "I saw him in a game once. Silverfox and I threw our shirts at him after he scored a touchdown."

Cheshire looked amused. "Really? Why?"

"It's hard to explain, ma'am. It seemed like a good idea at the time. Security threw us out. The teams gave us autographed jerseys, though."

"At least they know how to treat a pair of ladies. Good story. Did you make it up?"

"No."

"Too bad. I would have been impressed."

"Can you tell me about his recent games, ma'am?" Firefox asked. "Just enough to make him think I follow the sport?"

"I'd avoid trying to fake football with a professional," Cheshire said.

Firefox met her eyes squarely. "I didn't intend to, ma'am. I don't want to act like a fan and bore him with questions he's heard a million times. I want to be a fan who avoids the subject but drops a reference by accident once in a while."

Cheshire regarded her. She nodded slowly. "Good approach," she said, finally. "This way. I'll fill you in while you take an enema. Their next game is tomorrow, against the Los Angeles Aztecs --"

The room had two beds, two big beds. There was also a huge video screen, a wet bar, multiple easy chairs and a couch, and a hot tub. The tub looked so inviting Firefox found herself hoping she would get a chance to use it. The room was expensive, but more warm and friendly than palatial -- it had charm to it, and Firefox could imagine wanting to live in a place like this. She wondered if she was starting to relax in Blue Diamond, if she was getting comfortable here.

"Don't sit down," Cheshire ordered. "The other women will be brought here shortly."

The moment she finished speaking, the door opened again, and a coffle of three women was marched in. March was the correct verb: their chains were too short to let them move any other way. Silverfox was the second in line; she looked at Firefox and grinned briefly, before letting her expression turn to one of quiet, alert attention.

Firefox had seen the other two, but hadn't actually met them before: the puma who had snickered at Victoria, a skunk with the size and build of Technofox. All fur girls, she noticed.

The guard undid the chains linking them together. Silverfox shot Firefox a warning look, and the three of them opened their tops and prostrated themselves, Firefox following an instant later.

They licked the floor and returned to their knees, looking at Cheshire attentively. Cheshire was leaning lightly on her cane.

"It's a light, relaxing party," Cheshire stated calmly. "You're not here to talk about football, and they're not here to charm fans. They're here to have a little fun. You're here to find them absolutely fascinating. You each have your assignments. They picked you from pictures. Live up to them."

"Ma'am," they said in a mumbled chorus.

"Good," Cheshire said, and left the room.

After the door closed behind her, they got to their feet.

"Anyone know how to tend bar?" Firefox asked.

"I do, a bit," the puma said. She headed over to the bar, looked around. "This bar's dry," she said.

"That's how the Minutemen work," the skunk said. "Let the boys fuck themselves out the night before if they stay off the booze."

The puma looked over at the table in front of the couch. "Fits the snacks," she said. "Carrots, cut peppers, celery and dip. It's almost like a fatburner event."

Firefox considered asking about "fatburner events," but decided she'd rather not know.

"Good to see you, Firefox," Silverfox said. "Shad saw those pictures from your photographer friend. She said she learned a lot."

Oh, now that was good news. Firefox wished she knew what Shadowfox had gleaned from the encrypted image files, but she doubted Silverfox would risk telling her here. Good news, but frustrating.

"I thought your name was Chili," the puma said.

"My real name's Firefox," Firefox said briefly. "'Chili's' what Master calls me."

The puma looked confused for a moment, as though trying to grasp the idea of having a name not given by Master. "I'm Tawny," she said. "Master's name's good enough for me."

"Oh, knock it off, Tawny," the skunk said wearily. "I don't see a tamer in here."

Tawny was looking directly at Firefox. "Maybe we might as well," she said dryly.

There was a moment of silence and Firefox knew she had to nip this in the bud. "You mean that I'm Tigre's bed warmer at the moment?" she asked.

"I'm saying she mutters your name in her sleep," Tawny said. "Even uses your real name."

"Knock it off, Tawny," the skunk repeated. "Someone hearing you might think you don't screw the Queen Bitch on cue." She put out her hand. "Ignore my friend. She's not an asshole most of the time. I'm Veronique."

"Veronique," Firefox said, shaking her hand. "Firefox."

"Sorry," Tawny said reluctantly. "You're the first girl Tigre doesn't send to the infirmary in the morning."

Firefox shrugged, and lifted her breasts, jiggling them slightly. "I guess she likes my other assets. I swear she was weaned too early."

"Yeah," Tawny agreed. "She plays with mine a lot too, before she beats the crap out of me."

It was something Firefox didn't like to be reminded of -- the overlap between Tigre's role as tamer and her behavior in bed on her own time. Firefox shrugged. "I saw you egging Tigre on when she was leaning on Victoria," she said.

Tawny was about to reply when Veronique interrupted. "We all stick our tongues up Tigre's ass and thank her," she said sharply. "Now let's drop it. We've got a show to put on."

"It's not like Tigre's a robot," Silverfox said dryly. "Maybe Firefox reminds her of her first Christmas present or something."

Tawny chuckled and Firefox could sense her relaxing, slightly. Oh, there was still something there, a slight wariness, but it seemed unlikely that would ever vanish entirely, not in a place like Blue Diamond. Firefox wondered if Master had any truly loyal slaves.

"Yeah," Veronique agreed. "Now let's set up some signals. Pinching your nose means 'No.' Scratching the top of your nose with one finger means 'Yes.' Scratching your nose with two fingers means 'I think we need some girl-on-girl action.'"

She went on in that vein for a while. Firefox was quite impressed; there was a fairly elaborate system of cues to cover most situations. Veronique seemed to have had some experience with being a hostess in an orgy.

"Now, remember to delay sex as long as possible. If they go off too soon, they'll just feel disappointed. The worst thing that can happen," Veronique said, "is two of them getting jealous over the same girl. This mostly happens if they're drunk or if they've got some history, so we should be okay there. Try to get out of that situation, and the rest of us have to try to distract them. If they can't share nice, distract them."

Silverfox's ears twitched towards the door. "They're coming," she said without preamble.

The women instinctively arranged themselves prettily, Tawny ducking behind the bar. Firefox draped herself on the sofa, and instantly, Silverfox nestled up against her so it looked like they had just been snuggling. Silverfox touched her lips to Firefox's ear. "Maps of the complex and the megaframe," she said briefly, "Put your hand on my breast," she said in normal tones.

Firefox cupped her breast and fondled it through her shirt. She felt Silverfox relax, flowing into her touch.

Three human, one chimera: Firefox recognized Bull Harbison, a heavy, bulky human / ox chimera almost as wide as he was tall, short black fur over muscles like sculpted stone. The three men with him were almost as big; Arnold Mauer, Carl Wenner, and Sylvester Braddock. Arnold was a rarity in professional American football: a native German, despite the fact the game had never made any serious inroads into European popularity.

They were dressed for travel; neatly but not formally. Sylvester glanced over at Firefox and Silverfox, raising an eyebrow. "You two get started without us?"

Firefox tried to think of a reply. Silverfox came to her feet, and shrugged. "Drill and practice are important," she said smoothly. "You should know that, sir."

Bull smiled slightly, and Carl laughed amiably. Arnold blinked; his English wasn't quite good enough to catch that.

"Ladies," Arnold said politely. "It's a pleasure to meet you all." He took Silverfox's hand, making it vanish in his, and shook it gently. "You must be Smoke. Your pictures don't do you justice."

"Neither do yours, Mister Mauer," Silverfox murmured, taken slightly off guard but sounding sincere.

Arnold smiled nicely, and sat down on the couch.

"We have juices, and water," Tawny said brightly, from behind the bar.

"Nothing a little harder?" Carl asked, disappointed.

"I'm afraid not, sir."

"It's not her fault, Carl," Bull said. His voice was deep, almost theatrically so.

"Oh, I know that," Carl said. "It would just be nice to have a beer or something."

"After the game, maybe," Sylvester said. "You're Veronique, right? What is it with skunks and French names?"

"It's an old tradition, sir," Veronique explained.

"Could I have milk, please?" Arnold asked. Silverfox was sitting at his side, kneading his neck. 

Tawny hesitated. "I don't think any of us are --" she began.

"Cow's milk," Bull interrupted. Carl laughed out loud as Tawny looked uncomfortable.

"Uhm, yes sir," she said. "Sorry."

Arnold chuckled slightly. That one he got.

"I'd like an ice water," Sylvester said. "Dash of lime juice if you have it."

"We have it," Tawny affirmed, "Or I can order it."

"Orange juice for Bull and me," Carl said. "I think we're forgetting the ladies."

"Any Coke?" Firefox asked.

Tawny checked. "Just decaf."

"Then I'll have an apple juice."

"Nothing for me," Silverfox said.

"Coke for me," Veronique said.

"And bartender gets a mineral water," Tawny said.

Tawny set up a tray with the drinks; Carl took it from her. "I'll get that, darling."

"Thank you, sir," Tawny said gratefully. She leaned over the bar and gave him a peck on the cheek.

He kissed her back. "Can we drop the 'sir' please?" Carl asked. "And what's on that screen?"

Firefox felt herself relaxing, perhaps for no good reason. She had guessed that the four of them would come in, say "Wuh-Mon," and drop their pants. So far, she was pleasantly surprised.

Arnold's eyes were closed under Silverfox's neck rub. He opened them, picked up a remote and touched a few buttons on it. "Hey, Bull," he said, "dey've got NFL '53."

The other three laughed out loud as Bull looked comically sour. He looked at Firefox. "That's the one where they had to nerf me to keep the game more interesting," he explained. "Otherwise, there wouldn't be any point to licensing these losers. Nobody would ever play them."

"Dey make you veaker because dey couldn't model de vay you run in wrong direction," Arnold said innocently. There was general laughter; Firefox bit the inside of her cheek and looked solemn. Bull's special girl wouldn't find that funny.

"Happened once," Bull immediately responded, eyes and arms wide with wounded dignity. "These guys -- I swear, you run for the wrong goalposts once and these bastards never let you live it down. Hey, Arnie, let's set up you and me as two one-man teams and see who bounces further."

"I bounce further," Arnold admitted amiably. "But I bounce in right direction."

"Did you really run the wrong way?" Firefox asked curiously.

Bull hesitated, and Arnold immediately cut in. "No, not really," he said. "Bull got clipped on de shoulder, spun around before he hit ground, got up and took a step or two in wrong direction before he caught it. Happens to everyone."

Firefox sensed the dynamic -- hassle your buddies, yeah, but you don't cut them down in front of their girl. Firefox grinned. "I didn't think so."

"Enough with the football, guys," Carl said. "I want to do something non-football." He passed out the drinks.

"No, anti-football," Sylvester agreed. "Something that encounters football and annihilates it."

"Dey got the Discovery channel," Arnold observed.

"How about that Stalingrad game?" Carl asked.

"Not if Carl gets a sniper rifle," Sylvester objected.

"It's a valid tactic," Carl said.

Bull shrugged. "Sure, but it's no fun. How do you take out a sniper?"

"Passive Designator with AICN directing fire from a gunship," Firefox said instantly. "Failing that, counter snipers homing on his signature."

There was a pause. "I vant her on my team," Arnold finally said.

Firefox moved her avatar forward in a crouch, to a gap in a brick wall. "The trick is that you never fire until you're chosen your next firing position," she said. "In games like this, people always grab a spot and camp there. That makes them vulnerable." She paused. "After I fire, I'm moving to the other end of the wall, to my right."

"Uh-huh," Carl said, absorbed.

"Now I wait for someone else to fire. Not those grunts; I'm after other snipers. Watch that factory. There. Third window from the left, second floor." She zoomed in, placed her crosshairs on a helmet. She fired, switched to her SMG, and scurried to her left. Her Kill Counter went up one. She reached the far end of the wall, peered around. "Top of that water tower," she said. She zoomed, and fired again. She ducked back behind the wall.

"Where to now?" Carl asked.

"Don't know," she confessed.

"You said never fire until you know where you're going to next," Bull said.

"And rule one is that there are no rules. I had a perfect shot. It was worth losing tempo."

"Interesting," Bull said, nodding slowly.

Veronique shot Firefox a warning glance, and Firefox had to admit she had a point. This wasn't supposed to be about watching Firefox play video games.

Firefox handed the controller over to Arnie. "Beginner's luck," she said lamely. "And careful; there's an HMG team dug in like a tick." Arnie cocked an eyebrow in disbelief.

"Isn't there a video library on that?" Sylvester asked. He took the remote from Arnie. He toggled to the Blue Diamond index and selected BY MODEL NAME.

"Hey, Chili -- you've got a page," he said. He clicked through, selected VIDEOS.

There were three titles: Fox in a Maze, Four Foxes and a Tiger, and Slave by Herself.

The cursor hovered over Fox in a Maze.

"Vait," Arnie said. "Dat's de vun vhere you're blindfolded in a straitjacket and runnin' t'rough an obstacle course, right?" his tone was disapproving.

"Yes, that's right," Silverfox said. Bull sat next to Firefox, making the sofa creak under his weight. His body rested lightly against hers.

"Not dat vun, den," Arnie said. "She keeps fallin' down an' you chust vant to help her up and ..." he paused, and looked at Firefox. "I'm sorry. It had great stuntverk, but it just looked too painful. Too much like football. Vitout paddin'"

"Yeah, I remember that now," Carl said. "How did you do that stunt where it looks like you're running and that bar caught you in the midriff? I'd swear you ran full tilt into it."

"I did," Firefox said, for a moment not getting it.

"It was an accident," Veronique explained. "They left it in. There's a gag in Ben Hur in the chariot race where the same thing happened -- the bit where Heston gets flipped out of the chariot is an accident that happened to a stuntman." She shot Firefox a warning glance. "There's all kinds of kinky rumors about Blue Diamond, but the bondage stuff is all faked." Her eyes narrowed just slightly. And you're going to be in a lot of those videos if you don't play along.

Firefox looked back at her steadily, wondering if the skunk was warning her as a friend, or as a trustee. For a moment, she wondered what team she was on before realizing that Veronique was almost certainly on Team Veronique. She might not go out of her way to report every little infraction -- but there was no chance of her putting herself in a situation where she'd have to explain why she didn't report a big one. Who was Firefox to her?

"Vell, yeah," Arnie admitted, waving his hand in disdain at silly urban rumors about life in Blue Diamond. "Dat doesn't mean I like to vatch it."

"Then you won't like Four Foxes and a Tiger, either," Silverfox said smoothly. "Even though that's a twofer. Chili and I are two of the foxes."

"I saw that one," Sylvester offered. "Terrific acting, and you're all beautiful."

"It's good verk, ja," Arnie said, "But it doesn't look like fun. I like to vatch vimmen having fun."

Firefox wasn't sure if she wanted to kiss Arnie or scream at him. All she knew, as certainly as she knew her own name, was that if she tried to tell the truth she would never see sunlight again.

Silverfox took the remote, toggled back two levels in the menu and selected SMOKE. "Veronique, remember that Pepe LePew thing we did? I thought that was pretty cute."

It was six minutes of soft-core lesbian Warner Brothers porn, with Veronique in ardent pursuit of Silverfox, who was attempting to escape a certain aroma. Time after time, Veronique got Silverfox in a clench which the fox was only able to escape by sacrificing an item of clothing. Some of the locations were digital, but much of it was lensed in Blue Diamond.

"We just finished this the other day," Silverfox said. She glanced at Firefox. "They had us running all over the island."

They put Silverfox's athleticism to good use, with her shimmying up poles and vanishing into crawlspaces to escape the lovestruck skunk. Firefox watched with frank admiration. This was probably the most brilliant cover for a map-and-spy mission she had ever seen. "Was this your idea?" she asked.

"Some of it," Silverfox said. "I was just saying how it was a shame most of our video is shot on one or two sets when they had such nice locations in Blue Diamond. They let me spend a day scouting locations. Even all the way down to the boat."

The story ended happily, inevitably, with Veronique pushed into a washing machine and apparently de-odorized, at least temporarily. This evidently removed Silverfox's only objection to the affair, which was then quickly consummated in the thirty seconds remaining.

Carl stood by the couch, but there wasn't enough room for him to sit. Firefox moved into Bull's lap. He held her lightly, one arm under her breasts.

Firefox was vaguely aware that the other couples were necking. Arnold had Silverfox's shirt off. She sat on his lap, and he was kissing and sucking at her nipples. Tawny was on Carl's lap, her legs open, his hand exploring under her skirt.

"What a shame," Carl said, taking the control. "I don't think Tawny is in anything." He gave Tawny a nibble on her neck; she sighed softly and snuggled against him.

Bull was rubbing Firefox's neck with strong fingers. She closed her eyes for a moment.

"No, I don't think so," Tawny said. "They pulled my video a while ago."

"So what's that third video with Chili?" Bull asked.

This was bad, Firefox realized. She wasn't sure what that video was. It seemed that the best way to avoid talking about it ...

She took the remote. "Afraid I haven't seen the final cut," she said, "Mind if I turn it on?" she asked.

She didn't wait for a reply. Can we watch a porn video I starred in? Was a question unlikely to get a negative when asked by an attractive female of heterosexual males.

The screen lit, bright and impossibly real. She was on a padded floor, ankles chained together, wrists chained in front of her. She was in solitary.

The image switched, a profile, tight, her head almost filling the screen. Firefox wondered how they had shifted the camera angle -- she was certain there had only been one camera in the cell. The music was the usual synthesized minimalist track; at least they weren't using a sax.

A dissolve showed her being marched down a corridor by a guard. The whole video was probably assembled from security camera images, of surprisingly high quality. A voice, which might have been her own -- assembled from recorded phonemes, or simply simulated -- came onto the track.

"For disobedience I was given the cruelest sentence a Blue Diamond slave could receive -- for a night, I would be alone, with no man or woman to pleasure."

Firefox locked her jaw, to suppress wild, hysterical laughter. She could imagine what was coming.

"Master was not entirely without mercy. He made sure I would have a toy to play with, when my urges overwhelmed me."

The image on the screen looked around, focused on something, her ears cocking, exactly as though she had just noticed something. She knew it was her, listening to the footfalls of guards outside the cell. But it was intercut with a picture of the water spigot in the wall, the dildo. Soon, she knew, she'd be shown sucking at it and playing with herself.

In its own way, the video was masterful. The montage and the narration combined perfectly. Instead of cell video of a prisoner forced to masturbate for water, it was a film of a bound pleasure slave in seclusion, pleasuring herself because, well, the first thing a pleasure slave did when you bound her and locked her in a room was masturbate furiously. It was her nature. The poor dear couldn't help it. Hers was a sexuality so intense it had to be expressed, despite the chains she wore; perhaps even because of the chains she wore. Firefox watched, tongue lightly held between her teeth, knowing there was more than a little truth to that.

The audience was silent, and Firefox felt Bull's teeth tug, gently, at the fur and skin on her neck. And she felt lips touch her shoulder -- Sylvester? -- and then Carl's mouth touched her cleavage.

She wasn't sure whose fingers opened her top, slid it off her shoulders; lifted and undid her skirt, gently stroking at the soft fur it uncovered, unwrapping her like the expensive toy she was.

Arnold lifted her gently off the couch. He kissed her lightly, on the mouth, on the ears, silencing any objection Firefox might have. Silverfox cleared the coffee table, and he lay Firefox on it, nude, her feet on the floor. He touched her gently, between the legs, to see if she were ready for him. She closed her eyes, nodded, giving him permission. Wordlessly, he opened his belt and lowered his pants. Firefox watched, fascinated, enthralled; she felt no shame, no sense she was being abused: the only thing that mattered was getting him inside of her, and a slight, nagging guilt about depriving Shadowfox by stealing her man.

 His weight, his sweet weight was on her body. His muscles, even relaxed, were almost as hard as the member slipping into her. She gasped as he shifted his weight onto her; misunderstanding this, he lifted off her. Wordlessly, she moved his hands so more of his weight rested on her. There was something comforting about it, about his bulk and power, more than any human she had had before.

He began to thrust, and she held him as tightly as she could, without impeding him. His erection was big, long enough to bump her cervix with a deep thrust, sending a shock that made her jump in almost-pain. His lips and teeth found her cheek ruff, her neck, her ears, as she squirmed under him, wishing she were doing more for him. He was whispering to her; she didn't understand his words, and she had none of her own, as though each thrust drove her vocabulary out of her, leaving nothing but soft moans, gasps, a flick of tongue over his ear.

He came quickly, almost as quickly as she did. She lay under him, gasping, squeezing him empty, staring at him in wonder. He looked deeply into her eyes before kissing her gently on the forehead.

"You are very pretty girl," he said, and she grinned and beamed at him, thankful for that.

He pulled out of her and stood. Silverfox dropped to her knees, to lick up anything that might drip off him or out of him. Dazed, Firefox didn't resist as Carl pulled her off the coffee table, so she knelt before him, naked. His pants were open, and Tawny was stroking his penis.

"Can you do this?" he asked, and she nodded. She took him into her hand. Her long tongue flashed over his erection, teasing it harder and bigger before she took him into her mouth. She teased him, sucking and swallowing before taking him out from between her jaws, and blowing gently on him. Every time she sensed he was about to come, she would pause, let him settle down, before going to work on him again. His hand stroked her head, roughly without intending to be so, while his other hand caressed Tawny, played with her breasts, moved her nipples into his mouth. When he was close, he would bite Tawny's nipple lightly; Firefox intentionally played with him, making him do that over and over, as though Firefox were playing with Tawny's breasts through him. Finally, she let him come. He gasped, sat a moment, pulled her into his arms, kissed her.

"My turn," Sylvester said casually. He put Firefox on all fours. She waited, expecting him to drive between her legs. Instead, the head of his penis began to slip in under her tail.

It was surprising, unexpected; Firefox hadn't done this often before. She tried to relax, and he pushed at her, just a bit too hard and too fast for comfort. She flinched and gasped, and that seemed to inflame him, making him push harder, and faster, until he was all the way inside her, pushing her tail up.

The sensation was odd as he thrust and withdrew, a bit like needing to use a toilet and then using it, over and over again. After a few minutes, she decided she was enjoying it, when his pace increased. He slapped against her, hard, with each thrust, pushing her face against the rug, and he gasped and thrust deep into her, and she felt him spurt into her. He slapped her buttock, making her shiver, withdrew, and without a word took Veronique by the arm, and went to the bathroom to clean up.

Firefox lay on the carpet, curled up, exhausted. She was being stroked, so she opened her eyes.

Bull had his pants off. His cock was as big as her own forearm.

Well, no. It just seemed that way, for an instant. She actually froze, staring at it for several seconds in a sort of dull shock. She looked up into his face and grinned, glanced furtively at the other three girls, wondering what she was supposed to do. Silverfox caught her eye, and shrugged. Sympathetically, but not helpfully.

She adopted a comically thoughtful look, stroking her chin and lifting an eyebrow. "Hmm," she said. A suppressed chuckle from the guests showed she was on the right track -- thank goodness he and they had a sense of humor about this.

The tip of his member wasn't much smaller than Technofox's fist. Taking him between the legs was probably physically impossible: there was no way he could get deeper than a few centimeters, and even then, she'd need extensive preparation. Should she call a time out?

Why would anyone design a monster like that?She wondered, rhetorically. Huge member fetish? Was he a bizarre mutation, a factory second? And how did he get all that erect? The hydraulics alone were daunting. Well, valid question or not, it was certainly academic.

She knelt slowly, rested a hand on him, ran it gently up, from the root to the tip. He shivered slightly; Firefox suddenly remembered loading a 66mm recoilless rifle. She tried not to laugh.

She rested it on her shoulder, lay the fur of her cheek against it, closed her eyes. "You're incredible," she said with perfect honesty. She ran her tongue over his penis, lightly. "I can't believe that's all for me."

She lapped at his balls, sniffed and licked the shaft. She rested it sideways in her mouth, bit lightly up and down, let him feel her teeth.

"Like that?" she asked, lifting an eyebrow. His eyes were closed, but he nodded slightly.

Still on her knees before him, she took his penis between her breasts, moved her hips up and down, slowly drawing him between them. When his head almost vanished between them, she lowered her head, kissed his tip, licked it, tasted the slight discharge that came with his erection.

He took her by her armpits, lifted her to her feet, leaned forward and suckled at her. While his head was down, she glanced around the room. Tawny and Veronique were naked and wrapped around Carl and Sylvester; Silverfox had Arnold in an embrace, but was staring at Firefox, helpless desire in her eyes. Bull's teeth and tongue drew pleasure from Firefox's nipples, made her shudder as she held him lightly.

His mouth left her, and he looked up at her. "Lie down," he whispered. "On the floor."

He kept most of his weight off her, as she pushed her breasts together on his penis, varying the pressure and the sensation as he began to thrust. She craned her neck forward, licking, lapping, and kissing at his cock as he pumped it between her breasts.

It was a repeat of the first service she had given as a slave, except her wrists were free. She didn't think of that when she touched his buttocks, holding him still for a moment.

"Do you need to change positions?" he asked.

"No -- no," she said. "When you start to come, could you push forward, so I can catch it in my mouth? Please?"

He smiled and nodded, and started thrusting again.

Her breasts and his penis weren't lubed, so she couldn't press her breasts too close together, but her fur was slicker than flesh. She watched him attentively, curiously detached; she could see the pleasure growing in him, and she took the end of his penis into her mouth immediately before he climaxed.

He lay down next to her, spent, and held her briefly before getting unsteadily to his feet.

Silverfox helped her up. Firefox wanted, desperately, to lay down; she was exhausted, and her instincts made her want to rest, to let the seed inside her germinate. Firefox looked into Silverfox's eyes, and saw very little regard there.

Silverfox's voice was hoarse, and her muscles were trembling with excitement and agitation.

"You smell ... good," Silverfox croaked out, before clamping her mouth on Firefox's, making a reply impossible.

Firefox felt other hands on her: Veronique, and Tawny. She didn't resist as they pushed, pulled, and prodded her back onto the coffee table, as they started cleaning her with their tongues.

Tawny's rough tongue did most of the work rearranging her fur, as Silverfox worked on her face and Veronique went between her legs.

Veronique was more enthusiastic than skilled, but her tongue brought Firefox to a strange, exhausted orgasm. Silverfox was the last to leave her.

Firefox was in a daze as the men each hugged her warmly, protectively.

"I wish I could take you with me," Bull said softly.

"You can't?" Firefox asked.

"No. We're supposed to get a good night's sleep." He kissed her. "Thanks. You gave us good luck for the game tomorrow."

Well, Firefox thought, I was just gang banged by gentlemen. What a bizarre thought.

They left the room after saying goodbye again. Firefox and the other girls flopped onto the couch.

"You okay?" Silverfox asked, worried.

Firefox nodded. "Yes." Her ears swiveled to the door. She recognized the footfall, and it brought her immediately to her feet.

Tigre stepped in with a guard. He looked around the room. Firefox and the others dropped and licked the floor.

Tigre tugged at Firefox's ear. "You," she ordered. "With me."

Firefox stood, and Tigre snapped a leash onto her collar. Tigre stood quietly for a moment, savoring the sight of Firefox naked, docile at the end of a leash. "Let's go," she said, shortly, leading her out.

When they were alone in the corridor, Tigre stopped Firefox and kissed her lightly. "I know you're very tired," she said. "I want you to..." she hesitated. "I'm taking you with me so you can sleep."

"Thank you, ma'am," Firefox said.

Tigre smiled. "Until the morning, of course."

Firefox smiled back.