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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She nodded.

"Use words. Respectfully."

"I understand, Master."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Later, she would count them: twenty on each level except the ground floor, 
each about two and a half meters wide, and four meters deep; one hundred 
twenty cells. And almost every one had two prisoners; two hundred eighteen 
in all. Initially, the people were all so silent Firefox had trouble 
believing they were real; as they went closer to the middle, Firefox heard 
a woman's voice cry out;

"Master!"

With the same cheer that would greet a rock star.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You tonight, I think," he said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Maybe.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Comfy?" he asked.

"Yes, Master," Shadowfox replied immediately.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Thanks," Firefox said. "Swell."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Zip me up, tits," he ordered.

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Are you okay?" she whispered.

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

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

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

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

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

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

"We can't pretend," Technofox muttered.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Swimmers have done that without rafts."

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

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

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

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

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

"I want you," Firefox said gently.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Technofox barely nodded.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"That's okay," Firefox said.

"You should brush your hair."

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

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

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

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

"Well, yes."

"I mean pointlessly."

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

"Only when I laugh," Shadowfox said dryly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Shadowfox shook her head, dazed, still not believing.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Crack.

"Was it worth it?"

Crack.

"Was it worth it?"

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

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

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

She came to Firefox.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Technofox shook her head, weakly.

"Wanna fuck?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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