Foreward: by Dynotaku

This story was not written by me.  That’s right, what you’re looking at here is first piece of FoxForce fan fiction ever written.  A gent by the name of Nathan Cowan sent it to me, inspired by the admitedly few pictures of the FoxForce vixens.  I enjoyed it immensely, and after a week realized it was a shame that only he and I read it, so I thought I’d post it up here and share it around.

As you might guess, it’s a tale of FireFox and the other members of FoxForce, once again in perril as they tend to be. Nathan wrote the characters very well, even though there were certain facts about the characters that he was not privy to when he wrote it, and that’s really my fault for not drawing up model sheets for them.  For instance, SilverFox is a cyborg, but I’ve never published that fact, and so in this story, she’s flesh and blood like everyone else. Also, FireFox is naturally pyrokenetic, and again Nathan had no way of knowing this. So some of the finer details of the story are not quite canon, but that doesn’t mean it’s not a great read. 

(This is version 1.01, edited slightly after getting feedback at the Afterdark forums. Stop by and check it out. http://afterdark.planetfurry.com.  You can send feedback to dynotaku@dynotaku.com, or stop by the forums.)

So without further ado:

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FireFox: Chapter 1 by Nathan Cowan

Firefox woke slowly, reluctant to return to reality.

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

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

She sat up on the bare floor, lowering her hands to cover her nipples, 
still surprised momentarily by the plastic studs in the piercings they had 
forced on her. Her nostrils flared once as she scented the air. Her fur 
fluffed, and stirred softly in the breeze. The pressure on her fur told her 
the air came in through a vent on one corner of the ceiling, and exited 
through a narrow gap under the door. From the way the air moved, the room 
was about two meters by two meters, and two and a half high. The air coming 
in was micro-filtered and very clean; the only thing she could scent was 
herself, and traces of semen in her fur.

She was conscious of the air and the smells it bore before she was 
conscious of what she could see. Before she shifted into a squat (her 
buttocks ached from being paddled), her pupils were slowly contracting 
sideways, into vertical slits. Even when she slept the room was brightly 
lit from a band that ran around the ceiling, interrupted only by the air-in 
ventilation grille. The grill led to air ducts she could never fit into.

The walls and floor were coated with a stiff, but yielding, plastic. On one 
wall was a door, and across from it a plastic dildo projected, erect, from 
the wall, at about waist height. Loops of Kevlar were on each wall, useful 
for attachment points for chains. The door was the second problem. It 
opened only from outside, had four bolts, and even if her hands were free, 
she doubted she could smash it open.

She couldn't tell what the walls themselves were made of, but since she 
didn't feel a magnetic field, they were not likely metal. Probably 
concrete. She looked at the door for a moment; that was steel clad in the 
same plastic. On the ceiling was a video camera rig, held in an opaque 
dome. Each time the servos shifted to track her, she could sense the 
electricity flowing into the motors. And the camera was always following 
her. It was either manned continuously, or automated. She didn't like to 
think about what they did with the video they captured. The camera was the 
third problem. She could not sabotage it, and she had no way to guess how 
often they monitored her, which meant that escape plans which required time 
and privacy were out of the question. They didn't even let her lay down in 
front of the door; probably worried she was covering an escape attempt with 
her own body.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Fuck you," she said immediately.

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

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

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

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

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

"Sure. Cock or ball gag?"

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

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

"Shock," she heard them say, sharply.

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

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

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

She gritted her teeth.

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

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

"Ready to shift her arms?"

"Sure. I've got her left."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Was she?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It got worse.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Suddenly, things started happening very fast.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Silverfox wasn't bound to the stocks.

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

Silverfox wasn't bound at all!

Firefox's hackles rose, in fear.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Not yet," he told her.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Silverfox looked up at Firefox, miserably.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Bastard.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I'm not reconciled to this. Rape me all you want; I'm still going to kill you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"That was good," he said.

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

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

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

She closed her mouth, and fell silent.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She felt an electric potential glow at her neck.

The world turned off.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You gave me fifty today," Firefox said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He was lying, Firefox realized.

"Where are the others?" Firefox asked.

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

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

He looked over at Silverfox. "What?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You fisted her?" he asked.

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

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

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

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

"Yes, Master," Silverfox agreed.

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

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

Silverfox ignored her, licked her ear.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"How do I do that?" she asked.

"You know."

"I'll ... I'll make love to you. All you want, all night, if you'll let me 
see my friends tomorrow."

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

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

"Damn you to hell," she said sincerely, even as he was hard inside her, and 
she could feel herself warming to him. "What do you want?"

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

Yes, she realized, she did know.

"Fuck me," she said, tightly.

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

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

"You know."

She closed her eyes, and slowly opened them.

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

He kissed her ear. "Good girl."

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

_