Tigre sat on the floor, holding Firefox, stroking the naked vixen lightly. Firefox trembled, clinging to the tiger. The worst part of the physical pain had been given to her by Tigre, and somehow, despite that, being cradled by the tiger was a comfort, as though she was a friend instead of an enemy. And that was simply twisted, no matter how Firefox tried to justify it to herself. 
Unless ... unless, of course, this really was proper for her. That she was supposed to love someone who beat, tormented, and commanded her.
She felt dead inside. What if every emotion she had was part of an elaborate program?
"It's okay," Tigre said softly. "I ... " she looked distant for a moment. "I think I remember ..." she trailed off. 
"Remember what?" Firefox finally asked.
"It's hard to put into words. I remember ... I remember being used by men, tied down, and it was Master's will, but that, but, well, that wasn't enough." She frowned. "It was such an unimportant thing, but I remember thinking it was important. I remember fighting, and I remember meaning it -- it wasn't an act for a client." She shook her head. "It's so strange. Why was I so upset? It seemed so terrible then, the worst thing I could imagine."
Firefox couldn't help it. Even a perfect slave like Tigre had her buried doubts, even she had some part of her mind saying this was wrong and she didn't know why, something that went deeper than brain or memories or DNA. Firefox laughed, hollowly. "In other words, you remember when being raped bothered you, and now you don't know why?"
Tigre shook her head firmly. "It wasn't rape. That's just it. Master consented, but it didn't matter to me. So it wasn't rape, it can't have been, but it ... felt like I was being abused." Her voice was puzzled, and she was frowning, trying to reconcile two incompatible concepts. Suddenly, she relaxed. "No, that's impossible. It must have been a VR simulation. It never really happened to me."
That would sound absurd coming from a human, but chimera had extensive VR training while their bodies were grown. An identical or similar "childhood" gave new chimera more consistency in behavior. It was hard for an adult chimera to tell their earliest memories from that VR training.
Firefox tried, desperately, to rise above her own pain and her own horror at realizing what she had originally been intended for. I met my Creator today. He's a jerk. The old chimera joke gave her spirit the strength it needed. "Why would the labs give you a memory like that?" Firefox asked softly.
Before the words were out of her mouth, Firefox felt stronger. It was a jarring moment. She was still fighting, still trying to control the situation, working with the weapons she had. A sex model was lower than any whore could be, because a human prostitute at least had the potential to be something else. She was supposed to be a sex toy, but she was refusing to accept the situation and she was putting herself at risk by trying to subvert a smart, dangerous enemy. No, she was a soldier all right, and it simply didn't matter what the model number on her papers read.
Tigre shrugged. "To make me more comfortable when it finally happened. Like what Master did to you. He forced you so you would understand why you were here."
Idly, Firefox wondered why she, personally, had ever believed that Master was actually the owner of Blue Diamond. What were the odds that the businessman capable of building and running Blue Diamond was also a young, handsome steroid-hunk able to get it up every time he turned around? Who seemed to spend most of his time screwing the business assets? 
Firefox remembered how Master had left the bedroom when she was tied to his bed. She had assumed he was going to the bathroom. Maybe a twin was taking over.
No, Master was a chimera. A figurehead, the stern yet kind patron to counterbalance Tigre's bad-cop role. That much was obvious. And it was likely there were several of him, with a new one ready to take over in case another was injured. Maybe Victoria had actually hurt one. 
Did Tigre know as well? She gave no indication of it. Probably not. Or even if she did, she wouldn't let anyone know she knew.
"When?" Firefox asked, suddenly.
"What?" Tigre asked, blinking. "When Silverfox agreed to help tame you, and we let you out of solitary."
Silverfox had what? Firefox tried to keep her mouth from dropping open. Later. Worry about that later. 
"No, how long have you been here? How long has it been?" Firefox asked. There was something that simply didn't make sense, the chronology.
"How long have I been here?" Tigre frowned, puzzled at the question. "I'm not sure. It's hard to recall. What does it matter?"
"How many Christmases do you remember since then? How many since you were a tamer?" Firefox asked.
"Oh. Uh, one. I can remember one Christmas carrying Master's whip. I had been carrying it for months by then. Why are you asking?"
"But you're older than that, aren't you?" Firefox asked. "Brandon Biotech hasn't made your model for a few years now."
Tigre hesitated. "Yes, that's true. But... no, yes, I'm older than that. I must be."
Firefox kicked herself for not checking the date on the news channels. 
One Christmas tied in neatly with Jamison's chronology -- he said Saffron had "died" a year and a half ago. It was time for Firefox to back off. Let the tiger stew on the question of her own age. If Firefox pushed too hard on that subject, Tigre might go to Master with her problem. Firefox had to change the subject to something the Tiger felt more confident about.
"Besides, if you were taken without your consent--"
"My consent doesn't matter." Tigre explained. "Master's consent matters."
Firefox tilted her head and pretended to stare. "It's your pussy. Still attached, as far as I can tell. How does Master figure into it?"
Tigre patted Firefox between the legs. "This isn't yours," she said patiently, "any more than mine is really mine. We exist because Master or men like him purchased us. I like life, even here, and anything good we experience we owe to Master. If Master killed me, right now, I'd still thank him and be grateful for the life I've had to this point. However, Master is kind and does not permit us to be mutilated or killed." She held Firefox lightly, looking her in the face, earnest, as though she was telling a child not to walk into the street.
Firefox slowly shook her head. "Christ, Tigre, you're wrong. I hurt too much to argue, but you're just wrong. Just ask yourself one thing. Just answer this to yourself. Is getting Walton to come worth what you did to me?"
Tigre touched her face. "You're a pleasure model. This is what you're for. I...know it's hard."
Firefox sighed. "If I was designed to be docile, I wouldn't hate what he did to me. If I was designed to resist, I should be impossible to tame, and you wouldn't be working on me. That means I have free will, just like a human, and I have the right to say what I am."
Tigre was silent, and hugged her softly. "Don't say that. Don't think that. They'll hurt you."
"Why does that matter to you?"
"I don't know," Tigre confessed. "I should want to hurt you. We're not friends. You are a slave, and I am a tamer. You are turned over to me to suffer. But I don't want that. Master wants you to be afraid of me. It's what I'm for. But... but I don't want you to be afraid of me. I don't like hurting you. It's like you make me think I'm someone else."
"You like hurting Technofox?" Firefox asked bitterly.
Tigre relaxed her grip, and looked at her quietly and steadily. "You know the answer to that."
Firefox couldn't meet her gaze. "Yes," she admitted. "I don't like to think about it," she said honestly.
"I won't talk about that, then." Tigre turned Firefox's head towards her, kissed her softly. "The day has barely started," she said. "We need to get you back to work."
Firefox shuddered. "No another man," she said. "No more whips. I can't bear it."
"No, no," Tigre assured her. "Not until tomorrow. We can do something else today. Some light training. No clients. No whip, unless you cross me. Understand?"
Firefox nodded, and she was genuinely thankful for Tigre's compassion and kindness. 
"All right," Tigre said. She slipped a leash onto Firefox's collar, and then opened a catch. "This works as a choke collar," she explained. "Do you understand?"
"Yes, ma'am," Firefox nodded.
"And you are a dog. If you stand, or speak intelligibly, or break character, we'll stop the exercise and I'll turn you over to someone else."
Firefox closed her eyes. She had left a lover because he had wanted to play this game even after she told him she didn't. But that wasn't an option here, so Firefox sat on her haunches, rested her hands on the floor, and looked at Tigre. She opened her mouth, grinned slightly, and let her tongue slide out of her mouth.
"Good girl." Tigre stood. "Heel."
In Basic, Firefox had crawled for miles through mud, hugging the ground as tightly as she could. This was actually more comfortable than that, she kept telling herself. More of her weight was on her knees, and she knew she was bruising her shins. Whenever she got tired or balked, Tigre would steer her towards the struggle board -- Firefox wondered if she was deliberately reminding her that she could be doing something even less pleasant.
They went through the gamut. Stay, come, shake, play dead, fetch -- Tigre used the dildo as a stick. Over and over. Firefox's knees ached, and she wished they could do this on a carpet instead.
"Good girl. Now beg."
Firefox leaned back on her hams, lifting her hands into the air. Tigre let go of the leash.
"Stay," she ordered.
The tiger walked to a cupboard on the wall. She had her back to Firefox as she opened it, and Firefox could hear a cardboard carton open. Firefox caught a whiff of the contents, and flushed with shame and anger, careful not to let it show in her face. Tigre was getting a dog biscuit.
The tiger came back, and balanced the treat across Firefox's nose. It was even bone-shaped. They didn't miss any opportunity, did they? "Wait for it," the tiger warned her, as though Firefox was anxious to eat it. "Wait..."
There was a click and the door opened. Firefox turned her head, carefully keeping the biscuit balanced. It seemed reasonable a dog would be distracted by the noise. The fear of being beaten or whatever wasn't even in her mind, not consciously. All that mattered was that she do a good job of being a dog.
The woman stepping in wore no collar, but she was obviously artificial. She was tall and slender, dark skinned with white hair, and long pointed ears. Very long; longer than her hand. She wore jewelry, boots and a skirt and a bolero that barely covered her large breasts. Her clothes were oddly patterned, and vaguely familiar -- ancient, Grecian maybe, or maybe out of a bad fantasy movie. Not a sexual fantasy; something with swords and sorcerers and dragons. And she was the femme fatale of that film, so perfect for the role it was impossible to imagine her as a female lead. Firefox blinked. She didn't recognize her model. She had to be a radical cosmetic modification of another type.
She glanced at Firefox before looking at Tigre. She bowed deeply to the tiger, and when Tigre nodded, came closer. She opened her jacket to bare her breasts and her large, dark nipples. She knelt, touched her breasts to the ground, licked Tigre's foot, and came to her knees, head bowed. Tigre touched a long ear, releasing her.
She stood and stretched, making her bolero gape. The curve of her breast was barely concealed, and the fabric moved lightly over her nipples, showing they were slightly erect. "Sorry about the collar, Tigre," she explained. "I was just doing a scene with two clients. I left my collar and bonds in my locker here."
Tigre shrugged. "You were serving Master's will."
"Yes, ma'am." She bowed. "Excuse me. I'd like to put them back on."
"Of course." Tigre nodded.
She glided smoothly over to a locker on the wall, shifting her hips with each step. Perhaps she was putting it on to be seductive, but Firefox had to admit she was a lovely thing. Firefox wouldn't mind sleeping with her, under different circumstances.
"What was the scene, Lilith?" Tigre asked.
"Oh, Dark Elf priestess taking the seed of two human heroes," Lilith answered, and giggled. "It's actually part of a role-playing campaign, if you can believe that. The game master wanted to celebrate the first anniversary of the game, or something."
Lilith fit the collar back around her neck, black with light reflecting from chrome studs. Firefox felt her hackles raise slightly. Lilith was the second slave tamer she had seen.
"Dark enchantments are going to make the kid the next major villain of the game," the elf called out. "And there should be some nifty complications because both players' gods condemn the killing of one's own son. So they need to either work out who the father is beforehand or risk a curse." She laughed out loud. "Can you believe the weird-ass shit that goes down when geeks get too much money?"
"Serving Master's will is a serious thing," Tigre said sternly. 
"Yes, ma'am," the elf said, turning her smile into a look of placid determination. "Clients are respected. I exist for their pleasure and use." She bowed.
"Uhrm," Tigre muttered, and the corner of her mouth crinkled upwards. "Still, I have to admit this is the first I've heard that one."
The elf grinned. "That's just because nobody's written up a butch tiger goddess for Fifth Edition." She knelt in front of Tigre, ran her hands over her buttocks, kissed her firm belly and looked up at her with a smile, clearly waiting for a command to go on. Firefox wished she could lay down -- the floor looked very comfortable -- but at least she wasn't standing.
Tigre chuckled once, low. Firefox had a sudden mental image of Lilith as a lion tamer, dancing carefully around Tigre, flirting with being too familiar, striking a balance between the familiarity which would provoke the tiger and the casual attitude that would disarm her. It was easy to imagine herself in the same place.
The elf looked around and seemed to notice Firefox wasn't moving. She frowned. "Bitch," she said, and snapped her fingers, "Show a tamer some respect."
"Stay, girl," Tigre immediately interrupted. "We're doing a pet drill," Tigre explained. "Dog, of course."
"Whoops," Lilith said, apologizing to Tigre. "Sorry, Tigre. I thought she was pulling 'tude on me. She's a good girl for staying still. What's your doggie's name?"
"Master calls her Chili. Her name's Firefox." Tigre looked over. "Good girl," she repeated. "Go ahead. Eat it. Remember not to use your hands."
Lilith looked at Tigre oddly, as though doubting she heard what she thought she did. "So her name's Chili?" she asked.
"Firefox," Tigre corrected politely.
Lilith looked confused, but unwilling to pursue the matter. "Yes, Firefox," she said, apparently uncertain. Firefox felt grateful, but wondered if maybe Tigre was slipping too obviously. 
Firefox let the biscuit slide off her nose and drop to the floor. She looked at it for a moment and forced herself to pick it up off the floor in her mouth. She bit it, half falling back to the floor, and crunched it up. Actually, it didn't taste bad at all -- it was, in fact, like the kibble they were fed. And she was hungry. Even so, she knew she'd have to lick up the crumbs. At least the floor was clean.
Lilith frowned for a moment. "Oh, that's right -- the high-risk ones. The four foxes. I remember now. I saw that pictorial of her and Candi on the website. Isn't she going to be in another one?"
"Yes," Tigre said promptly. "It's a jungle goddess theme. Her, Candi, and that black footstool -- Sable. You know, the black fox you were asking about."
"Oh, right. I've been playing around with an idea for something, me and her. Evil Dark Elf Priestess and her hellbeast. Enchantments turn the hellbeast anthropomorphic. We then screw like deranged weasels."
"Do Dark Elf Priestesses screw anthropomorphic hellbeasts like deranged weasels?" Tigre asked. The tiger took a graceful step backwards away from Lilith, who came to her feet. 
Lilith shrugged. "I've never read Tolkein." She laughed. "It was kind of a kick, really. Different from the usual dom "Do exactly what you want, you miserable worm!" stuff. You see, the deal was that they were trying not to come into me. So it was almost as much fun as making some red collar bitch come while she's telling you to stop. You'd think rolling a Will Check would have been cheaper." 
"But would it have been as fun?" Tigre asked rhetorically. She looked over, and noticed that Firefox had finished the last of the crumbs. "Pardon me."
She took the leash again. "Present," she ordered, pointing at Lilith.
Firefox hesitated. She turned away from the elf. She then folded her arms and rested her muzzle on them, lifting her butt and tail and opening her legs. She wondered, stonily, if Lilith would produce a strap-on.
"That an invitation?" Lilith asked. "Let me take over for a bit. I've got a treat for her."
Firefox heard a chair scrape on the floor. Tigre looked over, then down at her, considered, and nodded. Tigre snapped her fingers and pointed at Lilith. 
Lilith was sitting on the edge of her chair. She lifted her skirt up, showing sparse public hair that matched her white mane. "Over here, girl," she ordered. Her eyes half closed, and she smiled. "I've got the seed of two heroes here, all for you."

Lilith's fingers dug deeply into the fur on Firefox's cheeks, moving the fox's lapping tongue around her pubes as though Firefox's head was some sort of battery-operated licking machine. Lilith held tightly, far too tightly, pulling on Firefox's fur until it hurt. Firefox wondered if Lilith knew that pulling on fur that way was painful, but she knew it would make no difference to her.
"That's right, girl. Now my clit. Stay there, girl." Lilith leaned back, opened her jacket, started playing with her breasts. Firefox paused to pant. Lilith delivered a quick kick to Firefox's ribs, making them thump hollow as Firefox suppressed a yelp. "Don't slow down, stupid bitch," she hissed. "And don't break the mood again."
Firefox's senses were keen enough that different men tasted differently. Absently, she wondered if she would ever recognize the men she was licking out of this elegant and savage creature, some day, kneeling before one of them. Lilith hadn't used one of the suppositories Tigre had given Firefox. She guessed it wouldn't be necessary for two men, when Lilith could set the pace. A woman like this probably considered two men in a row light duty. 
The thought was strangely exciting, and Firefox felt herself moisten a little. She wished Lilith would hold her head again. Firefox found her thoughts drifting to the fantasy she had had while masturbating in Jamison's bed, this time Tigre was in front of her, and ordered Firefox to present, and Jamison knelt behind her, stroked her buttocks, and slowly, slowly, slipped himself into her, and she had to keep licking steadily, suppressing the gasps of pleasure.
Lilith came a few minutes later, pushed Firefox's head aside. "Good girl. Enough. Whoa. Nice tongue on that girl." 
Firefox turned away, panting, and not for show. She was by this point intensely aroused, wet, nipples stiff. Just thinking about Jamison had done this to her. Dully, she wondered if she should be this excited, so soon after being raped. And then she wondered what "normal" meant and how much her mind had been twisted. She lifted a hand to her chin to rub Lilith's musk off. She froze, and turned the movement to a back-of-her-paw scratching motion, like she had seen dogs do, and licked the salty, yet tasty, juice from the back of her hand. She had just tasted three strangers, and had enjoyed it.
"I think so," Tigre agreed with Lilith. "You're only the fifth to use her as a slave. And the second woman."
"Really?" Lilith asked, surprised. "Why haven't the guards gone for her yet? I mean, most of them are tit men, and look at her rack." She snapped her fingers above Firefox's head. "Up, girl," she said. Firefox hopped up, touched her fingers with her cold nose.
"Panties," Tigre explained briefly. "Master doesn't want her pulling trains. That would just desensitize her."
Lilith was looking at Firefox's breasts. Her interest was so obvious that Firefox could almost laugh. She reached down, lifted her breasts, squeezed them gently. She ran an index finger on each nipple, then pinched. "Stiff as rubber erasers," she said softly. "You really got off on that, didn't you?"
Firefox froze, not sure if she should answer. Lilith smiled. "Never mind, doggie, sit. I'm sorry, Tigre. You said something about panties?"
"Master doesn't want her overused."
"Ah, of course." Lilith stood and bowed. "Would my lady like her feet washed?"
Tigre laughed. "You still into that?"
Lilith smiled, a bit ashamed. "Well, it's not something I get to do often. I can't very well wash and lick some slave bitch's feet, can I? Just clients, guards, and Master, but you're a woman."
Tigre ran a hand over Lilith's face. "I don't know..." she said, teasing.
Lilith knelt, and kissed Tigre's hand. "I'll drink the water," she said softly. "It would be an honor."
Firefox looked away, frankly embarrassed. Of course, talking about this sort of thing in front of her was normal; she no more mattered than a cat.
"You, tonight," Tigre finally said. 
"Thank you, ma'am," Lilith said, kissing her hand.
"We have half an hour to get to the floor."
"Right," Lilith said, suddenly more businesslike. "I'm dancing tonight."
Tigre hesitated. "No, it's a show with --"
"Right, right," Lilith said, nodding. "With that tentacle thing. I could have sworn that was tomorrow night."
Firefox cocked her head. Tigre had Lilith's schedule memorized? Was asking her about the Dark Elf Priestess thing courtesy?
Tentacle thing?
The Tiger went on. "And I have to --" she stopped abruptly. "I have work to do too."
"What about the doggie?" Lilith asked.
Tigre looked at Firefox and considered. "Put her back in her pen."
Lilith blinked. "With respect, ma'am, perhaps you were not aware they need more decorations. Even a balky red collar can do that, ma'am."
"Yes," Tigre agreed. "She's been a very good girl, though, so I've scheduled her for a library visit and some time outside." Tigre looked over at Firefox. "You're not a dog any more. You did very well. You can stand up."
Firefox came to her feet, slowly, and stretched her legs. She was still leashed, and perversely, she wondered if being a dog really made much of a difference. Lilith looked at Firefox, considering. "Mind if I fool around with her a little?" she asked.
Tigre shrugged. "Just a few minutes," she said. "I need to get her some more clothes anyway."
"Thank you, ma'am." She looked at Firefox. "Over here, girl."
Firefox walked towards her, her heart sinking. No matter what Lilith's tastes were, in front of Tigre she'd be cruel. Lilith clearly meant to grab her, so Firefox stalled for time by showing respect, kissing her boot. She knelt and waited for Lilith to touch her ear.
"I don't like it when slave girls kiss," Lilith said. "Slaves should use their tongues, especially fur bitches like you."
"I'm sorry, ma'am," Firefox said, eyes on the floor. "Tigre likes me to kiss her," she said, reminding her that Tigre was a fur bitch too, and that she had just begged for a night with her.
"Then kiss her," Lilith said. "I'm instructing you for future reference. Now lie down on your back. The floor looks cold and I want to lie down on top of you."
Firefox lay on her back as Lilith opened her top, and rested her weight on her. Lilith was about Firefox's height, and her breasts were warm against Firefox's fur. "I love the feel of fur on my skin," Lilith said softly. She started stroking Firefox's head, surprisingly gently. "I feel sorry for you girls sometimes. When you make love, it must feel like you're wearing clothes." 
She kissed Firefox on the mouth, deeply and passionately, and used her tongue. Firefox closed her eyes and slipped her own tongue into Lilith's mouth; the flat, square, human teeth, so crowded together they caused dental problems, the feel and taste so different than that of another fur.
"You're really beautiful, you know?" Lilith asked gently, stroking Firefox's hair. "We're not supposed to say that to slaves, we don't want them to feel pride in anything but their submission to Master's will. But you're truly beautiful. On anyone else, those boobs would look vulgar. Even in this place, you stand out. You better hope Master keeps you in panties. If you were free to the guards, they'd wear out your vagina in a day." Lilith kissed her. "Especially with that defiant attitude you're trying to hide from me." Lilith took Firefox's lip between two teeth and pulled gently. "Yes," she continued softly, "you're just the sort who they'd line up for. They'd force you until you were sore and bleeding," She smiled gently, as though she imagined she was paying a compliment. "Sore, bleeding, and there'd be too many on line for you to count."
She shifted, put a gentle hand on Firefox's mound, and tenderly, tenderly began to play with her, as she whispered in her ear about her being gang-raped, explicitly describing how the four holding her down would take her by turn, and be replaced by another; how her cell-mate would be forced to clean her out after each guard took her; how she should especially be afraid if they used condoms, because that meant they would give her only a few seconds of rest between each man, and all the time, her fingers gently, tenderly coaxed Firefox on, confusing her until Firefox didn't know if it was her gentle touch or the violence and cruelty she was describing that finally made her tremble and gasp, holding the elf close to her as she thrashed in orgasm.
"Went off like a firecracker," Lilith said smugly, as Tigre came back with a bundle under one arm. "She's incredible."
"Worth the effort to tame, yes," Tigre agreed.
"Maybe worth not taming her completely," Lilith speculated.
"That's Master's will," Tigre hinted broadly.
Firefox quietly dressed: bra and panties. No shoes. She wondered if the absence of shoes or slippers was intentionally demoralizing, or if it was a cost-cutting measure.
Suddenly, she wondered why she had never seen the guards gang up on one woman. Was it just that nobody wanted sloppy seconds?
"Come here, Firefox. I'm taking you back to your cell."

"Jamison tipped you five dollars," Tigre said. "You must have pleased him. I had your tips sent to your cell. There's quite a lot. Five from Jamison, two dollars from the floor show before that." She paused. "Walton didn't tip you. He gave you a high rating, though." Her tone was disapproving. Rape was one thing, but refusing to tip was, well, rude.
Firefox looked at Tigre. The fox was certain that Walton had not conversed with Tigre after finishing with her, and Tigre had not left the room. How had Tigre -- oh, of course. Tigre's implant had to be constantly updating her. The tiger was tied into the network.
Firefox hadn't noticed the soft buzz of an electrical field from Tigre's head, so the tiger had to be using shielded electronics. Which, Firefox was certain, meant they had to have upgraded her implant. How had they managed that?
"Thank you, ma'am," Firefox said.
Tigre put an arm around her. "Thank you," she corrected. "You earned every penny. I was afraid -- I was so afraid that you wouldn't pick up my cues, that I'd have to hurt you for real."
Firefox kissed her. "Thank you for pulling your blows. I think Jamison would be glad you did."
Tigre smiled, fleeting and shy.

They returned to the Panopticon, and Firefox felt Tigre distance herself slightly from her. She moved away as well, knowing that a sign of genuine affection between her and Tigre would ruin her reputation among the slaves. The complex was almost empty; a handful of cells held slaves and one or two guards paced the levels casually. The sensor platform climbed the central shaft, rotating slowly, following some strange program or the whim of its operator. They went to Firefox's cell, and Firefox immediately walked over to the envelope on her bed. It was heavy, and clinked softly. Carefully ripping open the top, she looked in and saw silver. It looked about right. Seven dollars. Ruefully, Firefox thought of her own quarter million dollar mortgage (now down to one-fifty thousand) and the almost ten thousand in her personal account. At least I'm not in debt here, she thought, ridiculously.
"The guard will take you to the library," Tigre said. "Bring your money, you might want to buy something." She turned to the exit.
"Wait," Firefox said impulsively. She ducked over to her, hugged her and kissed her affectionately. "Call me again soon, okay?"
Firefox said it before she thought, and she was astonished at how casually it came out, as though she was dating this woman. And remarkably, Tigre took it exactly that way, nodding with a smile. "Yes, soon," she agreed. "I don't know when we'll both be free, though."
Firefox put her muzzle against Tigre's ear and whispered. "I want to make love to you in the same bed I made love with Jamison," she said softly.
"Yes, I'd ... I'd like that," Tigre replied, quickly, uncertainly, as though she were an awkward girl. Tigre could command, she could crawl ... but flirt? "Listen. This is very important. You have to take out a book and fill out the test. They're much more likely to let you back in the library if you tell them you have a book out and you have to turn in a test."
"Alright," Firefox agreed.
They hugged for a moment, and Tigre left, sliding the cell door behind her with a metallic slam.

Firefox used the facilities and by the time she was done, a guard was rapping his nightstick on the bars. He leashed her and made her walk down and out of the Panopticon, ahead of him. They went through several heavy doors (sharp click as bolts slid open before they reached them) and he finally jerked the chain in front of a door marked LIBRARY / PX. He copped a feel and kissed her roughly before undoing the leash. 
"Through there," he ordered.
Firefox walked through the door, noticing that it was unlocked, and that the bolt was covered by duct tape. Odd. This was the first door she had seen where the lock didn't work. She looked around and heaved a deep sigh of relief. She was half expecting a room filled with guests and a tamer with a whip, but instead she saw a room about the size of a large magazine store in a subway. Behind the counter was the mouse she had seen in Tigre's room, who looked at her with huge, shocked eyes.
"Hello," Firefox said, trying to sound casual. Say, didn't I see you chained naked to a wall the other day? Small world! 
"Hello," the mouse replied. There was a moment and she smiled. "Thanks for what you did in Tigre's."
"It's okay," Firefox said, brusquely. She looked around. 
"Thanks anyway. It's, uh, a little hard for me."
Firefox felt a flush of irritation Hard for you? Well, it's hard for me, too. But she knew that was an awful thing to think -- besides, there was very little point in getting into an "I'm suffering more than you" bitch fest. 
"Me too," Firefox agreed.
She guessed half the room was the library and the other the store. The library books were small but well-bound. She took one at random: Woman in Harness, with a cover of a human woman who did, indeed, seem to match the title. She looked at other spines, but judging by title, the books seemed to be virtually interchangeable. "I don't suppose you have anything by John Keegan?" she asked. "Six Armies at Normandy?"
"Only if one of the armies is female, and being spanked," the mouse said promptly. "We do have something called Mask of Command but it's not military history." 
Firefox laughed. "Is that the one about a woman forced into bondage who is reconciled to it by the end of the book?"
"You've read it?" the mouse asked with feigned amazement.
"No, it was just an amazing guess. My name is Firefox."
"I'm Mary. Well, they call me Squeaks now, but my real name is Mary." She put out a tiny hand, and Firefox shook it gravely. "Don't they call you 'Chili?'"
"Don't remind me."
"Weren't you in that pictorial on the website? I'm surprised you're a red collar still."
"I was in a pictorial. Do you work here all the time?"
"Most of the time." She swallowed. "I'm also an orderly for Tigre and the other tamers. I have a pager," she said, lifting her hand. Her left wrist shackle had a rectangular bulge on it. "They tried making me a pleasure slave, but I'm not really good at it."
Firefox cocked her head. "So you were trained for something else?"
"Uh ... well, I don't think it makes me any better than a pleasure model, or anything like that, but yeah. I know this sounds like bull, but I used to be an accountant."
Firefox's jaw dropped. "For the Tataglia family?"
Mary's eyes widened. "You've heard of them?"
"Tataglia's Mary. You know the FBI is looking for you?"
"Why?" she asked, disturbed.
"Because you laundered half the drug money running through New Jersey. They think you're sharing a room with Jimmy Hoffa." Firefox knew that much because Foxforce had worked some pre-emptive wet jobs in support of the investigation.
"Uhm," Mary said, rubbing her nose. "But that doesn't make sense. I was sold to Blue Diamond. If they're looking for me, they should be able to find me. I don't know why they sold me here."
The Tataglias put you here to hide you from the police until they needed you again, Firefox thought. Yes, her gut reaction about Blue Diamond had been correct. There was something underhanded going on here, even if the brothel was itself legitimate. Tigre, Foxforce, and now Mary -- six slaves, and Firefox doubted any was a legal sale.
Firefox tapped her ear and Mary nodded. It was probably very foolish to talk about this now. 
Instead, Firefox's eyes drifted over the store section.
There was a rack with an extraordinary variety of cigarettes, some of them even tobacco, selling at the heavily-underwritten price of fifty cents a pack. There were tiny, tiny bottles of rum -- barely two shots' worth -- selling for five dollars a bottle. There were little plastic packs of pills, two in an envelope, some of which were legal only with a prescription. She took one pack out and studied it: the instructions helpfully suggested taking the amphetamine capsule before a night of dancing, and the sleeping pill afterwards to get to sleep. One dollar. She had been amazed at some of the dancers' energy until now. Other pills, Ecstasy to "relax your inhibitions," amyl nitrate to relax something else. The law had relaxed a while ago; anything here was legal, either over-the-counter or with a prescription. Chimera didn't need prescriptions. That didn't keep it from being dangerous if abused. The softer drugs didn't bother her much, but amphetamines?
Uncomfortable, Firefox turned away. It wasn't surprising to discover evidence of heavy-duty drug abuse at a prison, but it was positively obscene that Master got a cut even of that. Well, other chimera had had the same training about street pharmacology she did. She hoped that was enough to keep any of them from hitting the stimulants too hard.
"No aspirin?" she asked, half sarcastically.
"You can ask the guards for that," Mary said. "The first aid pack in your cell should be stocked."
"Ah, good to know."
The next rack over was at least more normal. She picked up two chocolate bars -- milk chocolate and the dark chocolate Shadowfox loved so much, fifty cents each, -- and a little basket for her own money, one quarter. She suspected that Shadowfox made more and she didn't want to sponge off her.
Firefox hesitated and bought a third bar, and a small can of Coke at seventy-five cents. She would have liked to buy some rum for that, but didn't have enough left over, and she knew she'd have to save her money.
Shopping was fun, absorbing. It took a real effort of will not to grab a handful of ... of anything, really. Firefox realized it was because she was making an actual choice for the first time in weeks. She actually could control what she getting, with her own money. She felt oddly proud of herself. One flogging and a night with Jamison had turned into three chocolate bars, soda, and a basket for her cash. It was good to make decisions, even something as trivial as this.
Mary rang it up. "And you get a pencil for the test in the book," she said, sliding it over to her. It was wooden, blue, sharp, stamped with gold letters: Blue Diamond - An Experience You'll Never Forget!
"If you'd like to start reading in the court, it's right through there," Mary said, pointing to a door.
Outside? There was nothing Firefox wanted more. "Thanks," she said. She supposed she should have sat around and chatted more with Mary, but she was too eager to step outside.
It was night. She should have expected that, but it was still a surprise. The sky was black, and the moon was down, and her eyes were not adjusted to the darkness, so it was less infinite space than a ceiling too high to see. She walked out into a closed courtyard, an atrium, tall walls fencing her in on every side. There were small spotlights on the wall, about half turned on. Maybe the others were simply burned out.
There was grass, scuffed and beaten down to dirt where hundreds of feet had run back and forth. A moment later she saw a soccer ball, battered and old. The space was too small for a regulation field, but the slaves had made do. As her eyes adjusted to the light, she saw the walls, unpainted concrete without windows. They were taller than the courtyard was long. The courtyard seemed to emphasize her captivity instead of relieving it; instead of open air and sunshine, she was at the bottom of a pit, looking up.
With artificial light, why have windows opening onto a courtyard anyway? She ran her eyes up, looking for toeholds and handholds, saw a three-meter concrete platform about two stories up. To climb out, she'd need to scale six meters of wall (possible) and then negotiate a ten-foot horizontal overhang (impossible). Well, that wouldn't be a way out.
At least it smelled of open air, and she curled her toes to feel the dirt pack beneath them. She scented crushed grass, loam, mud. She knelt and stared at a dandelion, blossom folded, touched the impossibly precious thing with one finger. Amazing it could find enough sun to live at the bottom of a pit. You and me both, friend.
She sat on a concrete bench in one of the circles of light. She popped her can open and took a swig: the bubbles and sharpness hit her harder than usual: she was too used to water. She unwrapped a chocolate bar and took a bite, holding it in her mouth as her eyes closed in ecstasy. She'd share the other chocolate with the other three, but this bar and this Coke was hers, and hers alone.
She swallowed her mouthful of chocolate and she opened the book. Tucked in front of the title page was a stiff sheet of cardstock, a form that needed to be filled out. Guessing this was the test, she took it and read it. She could skim the book and put in the answers instead of reading it.
She sighed. How to answer the questions without fucking herself, perhaps literally?
1)	Describe the first scene you masturbated to. Include a page reference.
This assumed she would be so overtaken by the prose that she'd start playing with herself wildly. Firefox doubted that "I didn't" would go over well. They might even match the record of her orgasms to see if she really masturbated when she said she had. She considered picking a sex scene at random, if she could find one that wasn't too unpleasant, keeping in mind that she'd probably be ordered to re-enact it. Heh -- maybe she could find one where the main character was free and sleeping with someone she loved. Now that was a fantasy, at least here. 
Firefox closed her eyes and a tear welled up. She breathed deeply. She couldn't think about that. Well, she shouldn't. She could imagine Jamison. That wasn't even his real name, but... idly, she rested a finger on her vulva. She wanted him, so badly Just to feel his arms around her and pretend she was free and in his bed by her choice. Or...not. She touched herself through her panties. It seemed normal to play with herself if she felt the urge. She was spending half her day with a cock inside her or her tongue on a clit; why not?
If she were free, she would look at someone and think, Yes, I could be his lover. Or her lover. Now she thought of Jamison and thought, Yes, I could be his slave.
The realization was frightening.
No, maybe she should find the inevitable "languid sex scene with Master" and describe that instead. After all, no matter how many identical models they had marching around pretending to be Master, only one had a slave all night. All the women were kept in  the Panopticon. There was too much of a risk that two women would discover they had each slept with Master one night, and then, like two identical aces appearing at once in a poker game, the jig would be up. That meant Firefox would only get one night with him every seven months or so, on average. Good.
2)	Describe a scene containing a sexual act you feel adept at, because of your training in Blue Diamond.
Whatever she said, she'd probably have to prove. She shook her head. She would have to make a conscious decision if she'd rather take someone between her legs, up her ass, or in her mouth. Maybe she could find a lesbian scene. Somehow, going down on another slave, even on a tamer, didn't bother her as much as giving it up for a client or guard. Feminist solidarity or something, she guessed. 
3)	Describe a sexual act depicted in this book you have not performed as a slave.
Any answer would probably go on her to-do list. Hey, maybe she could just put in "flogged a client." No, that would be a very bad idea. She didn't want to encourage them into thinking she could be made a tamer.
It was a seductive notion, which is what made it so terrible. She could half imagine herself doing it. And that would be ... well, there were things worse than death, and being part of Blue Diamond was much, much worse than being a victim of Blue Diamond.
Like Uncle Tom, from Uncle Tom's Cabin. Who was ordered to beat a slave, refused, and was beaten to death instead.
She looked up. Did she have that sort of courage?
She hoped so.
She looked back down at the test, trying to escape the frightening thought. But -- "not performed as a slave?" Did that mean that a there were a lot of formerly free women at Blue Diamond? 
4)	Describe a sexual act depicted in this book you performed before you became the property of Blue Diamond.
This question presupposed that every slave answering the test had a life before Blue Diamond.
She reread it. Well, she supposed someone who had been purchased by Blue Diamond out of the factory could just answer, "It has been my great and undeserved fortune to be owned only by Blue Diamond." Still, the question was written with the assumption that most of the slaves were pre-owned. 
Well. What did that mean? 
The thought she had had in the library, with Mary, began to solidify. Blue Diamond wasn't just a slave brothel. It was a place that female chimera were sent when they had to vanish for a while.
And boy, would they be grateful when they went back home. The ugliness, the studied brutality, made her stomach clench. Was that reasonable? It seemed so.
5)	Describe a sexual act depicted in this book which you require training in.
This one would probably have to be worded carefully, because she'd probably be forced to perform whatever act she described. 
6)	On p37, Theresa states she was raped. Explain her error.
She could guess the answer to that already -- a slave under orders could not be raped. 
7)	As a slave, you have rights under California law. What right was violated on p15?
She tried to remember what Master had told her the first day. Water, food, number of strokes? 
8)	This is a work of fiction and some of the acts depicted are contrary to the will of Master and the policies of Blue Diamond. Which part of the beating on pp13-17 violates Blue Diamond policy, but not California law?
It might be interesting to see what Blue Diamond had a policy against. 
9)	Why did Theresa give pleasure to her owner on p58? Was her motive correct for a slave?
She guessed Theresa screwed her master out of fear of punishment instead of the brilliant, ecstatic joy of servicing him. 
10)	On p103, Theresa is ordered to give herself oral sex. Attempt this and state if you were successful.
This would need more careful wording. "No, my tits were in the way."  Firefox chuckled at the thought, but she didn't think it would be a smart thing to say.
"Firefox," came a voice behind her, soft.
Firefox didn't jump. If she didn't hear someone coming up behind her, it could only be one person. "Hello, Shadowfox," she said. She turned around. "Some Coke? Chocolate?"
"No, I'm okay, thanks," she said, "Some jerky?" 
"Just a bite, thanks," Firefox said, staring at the slab of dried salmon in her hand. "I didn't see that in there."
"Behind the counter. You have to ask for it."
Firefox closed her mouth on the treat. If jerked salmon were waterproof, you could use it to shingle roofs. It took very strong incisors to cut through it. "I bought half a chocolate bar for everyone," she said.
Shadowfox hesitated, just a moment. "Yes, I wanted to share the jerky, too. But, you know, I took a bite and..." She laughed and folded the wrapper over.
Firefox nodded. She didn't believe her, and she hated herself for thinking that. "Tech and Silver will like that," she said.
Shadowfox nodded.
She blended into the night, beautiful as a patch of sky brought down to earth. Firefox dropped her voice and wrapped her arms around Shadowfox.
"I have a regular. I got an email in the out box on his laptop. He says he's going to help us."
Shadowfox looked at her, suspiciously. "And you believe him?"
"We don't have a choice," Firefox reminded her gently.
Shadowfox closed her eyes and shook her head. Firefox frowned. She hadn't expected Shadowfox to turn handsprings of joy, but she hadn't expected indifference, either.
"I heard a girl scream today until she lost her voice," Shadowfox said, finally. "I was licking her clean between men."
Firefox was still.
Shadowfox shook her head. "I was so angry at her, I slapped her. She was just so loud, it was hurting my ears, and I slapped her around. For screaming so loud it hurt my ears. Because that's what I've become, Firefox. I'm going to die here. This place suits me."
"No," Firefox said firmly." She took Shadowfox by the shoulders, turned her to face her. "You will not. None of us are."
Shadowfox pulled free. "Bullshit, Fi. I'm not a soldier. I'm an expensive cocksucker."
"I didn't accept your letter of resignation, soldier. You are going to get us out. Do you hear me? It's going to be you that gets us out. So I don't have any time for this self-pitying shit from you."
Firefox held her breath.
"No, ma'am," Shadowfox said, shocked back into a bearing.
"Damn right you don't," Firefox snorted. "You, me, and Tech are going to be in a pictorial. My contact is taking pictures. He's going to bring surgical tools. Tech fixes your implant. You get to a terminal, run the script."
"It's not that simple, ma'am," Shadowfox said. "All I can do is run a preprogrammed intrusion program. The way it works is we get the layout of the system, you decide what we want it to do, Technofox writes an intrusion script to do it, and then I load it in my firmware. Then I fuck my way next to a terminal, run the script, and in we go. The life of a software shinobi. All I can do is run the attack program. I can't write one on the fly."
Shadowfox was explaining it very carefully, and unnecessarily. Of course, Firefox knew all that. She had done it more than once. Shadowfox was maybe doubting her sanity. And maybe she was right to do so. "Yes," Firefox said patiently. "In my email I asked for firmware loaded with the script. All Tech will need to do is load it."
Shadowfox looked surprised, and thoughtful.
"Yes," she said finally, wonderingly. "It might work."
Firefox half smiled. "All this time, and you still don't trust ol' Fi?"
Shadowfox's mouth opened slightly, and the corners turned up. Her tail thumped, once. "What did they do with you?" she asked. "We were worried. I heard a rumor Tigre worked you over and you went back to the infirmary."
"No, last night I slept with my contact, and, uh... Tigre." She wasn't sure if she should admit that.
"Twice in a row?" Shadowfox asked, horrified. "God, you poor girl."
Firefox shrugged. "It's really not that bad," she said, lamely.
"Bullshit. You tell me that there was a plane home for me, and all I had to do was cuddle with Tigre for eight hours, and ..." she shuddered. "God, I don't think I could. I really don't."
"It's not that bad," Firefox repeated. "I mean, she's kind of wild and she's not what I'd call a generous lover, but she's not --" she saw Shadowfox's face, staring at her in blank astonishment, as though wondering, sincerely, if Firefox had lost her mind. 
"Shadowfox, you said Tigre was a character they used in VR training for pleasure models."
"Right. She's the bogeyman. You're sent to her to suffer. So?"
"This Tigre seems awfully ... non-digital," Firefox said with a laugh, rubbing a place on her shoulder that was still sore.
Shadowfox looked thoughtful. "So the trainers licensed the character from Blue Diamond?" she asked.
"Our favorite tiger girl only remembers one Christmas."
Shadowfox looked over at her. "That's impossible. Brandon Biotech hasn't grown one of her model for the last five years."
"And therefore, she was someone else before she was Tigre."
"You're saying ... that's not really Tigre?" Shadowfox asked, suddenly hopeful. It was exactly as though she were a child being told there was no bogeyman. Firefox had to remind herself that to Shadowfox, who remembered her pleasure slave training, "Tigre" was a symbol of pain and fear, far worse than a flesh and blood woman could ever be.
"She's been conditioned to think she's Tigre," Firefox said. "She's as close a match to Tigre as they can make with torture, drugs, and VR training. But she was someone else first. My regular says she used to work in a zoo, and her name was Saffron."
Firefox had once seen Shadowfox defuse a hostage situation by calmly walking up to a gunman, waiting for him to shift aim to her own head, and break his arm before he could pull the trigger. The memory still made Firefox sick with fear. To Shadowfox, Tigre was an irrational fear suddenly made flesh. It was like being told that Dracula was real and lived next door.
And so, a smile slowly forced its way onto Shadowfox's beautiful dark face, a smile Firefox could only see because her teeth were showing. Dracula was just a man in a cape. He thought he was Dracula, he was dangerous, but he wasn't a nightmare.
"Do you think he's right?" Shadowfox asked.
"I think so, but it doesn't really matter. What does matter is that he's going to help us out. He's already sent an email for us."
Shadowfox closed her eyes, and her tail wagged. Someone outside knew. It stiffened the spine.
"He wants us to get Tigre out."
Shadowfox opened her eyes and considered. "That's a complication," she said.
"I thought so too, at first," Firefox said. "But I changed my mind."
"How so?"
"Because we're not going to escape," Firefox said quietly. "We are taking this fucking place apart. I don't know how yet. But I am leaving here when there's nothing left but two burned bricks, and every guard is dead, or hospitalized, or lying on his back thinking, 'Why the hell were we stupid enough to fuck with Foxforce?' What do you say?"
Shadowfox nodded. "I'm up for that, ma'am."
The door opened, silhouetting a guard.
"Chili," he barked. "Time."
It was Tiomkin.

The muzzle was so tight it hurt, and she could feel the electric potential at her neck. She was carrying her purchases and her book in a small plastic bag, in one of her hands, bound together in the small of her back. He walked into the library, drew his nightstick, and brought it down with a crash on the counter next to the cash register. Both Mary and Firefox jumped.
"What time is it, mouse cunt?" he asked.
"0315," she said. Squeaked, actually. "Sir."
He slammed the nightstick down, twice. "Stupid, fucking bitch. She can't even fucking tell time. Don't make me ass rape you with a club. What fucking time is it?"
Mary was trembling. "What time do you want it to be, sir?" she asked.
"About half an hour later than that," he said, his voice suddenly calmer.
"It's about 0345," she said, glancing at Firefox apologetically. "Sir." Firefox didn't blame her.
"Ah, good," he said amiably. "Then tits here has had her time in the courtyard, right?"
Mary hesitated. "Yes, sir," she said softly. Firefox forced a smile at her. It's okay.
"Good girl," he said. He dropped a dime on the counter. "Keep it."

Immediately outside the PX, he jerked on her leash, before they passed through the first barred gate. "Turn left here," he said. "Into the stairwell."
Firefox hesitated. This wasn't the way back to the Panopticon. She actually felt nostalgic about her cell right now. The dread, not knowing what would happen next, was worse.
Still, there was no point in delaying it. He had half an hour. Mary would back him. He was going to work her over. Firefox would have to choose between a beating and being molested. 
The fire door closed behind them softly. The stairs went up several flights; she had no idea how many levels. She stood, passive, as he slipped one of her breasts out of her bra and pinched her nipple.
"Don't you want me  to fuck you?" he asked, calmly. He took out his nightstick, tapped it between her legs.
He shifted his grip on her leash, and stepped closer. She could smell his breath.
Something snapped inside her. 
She spun, bringing her left knee up, hard, between his legs. She felt the hard jockstrap cup on her knee, turning a crippling injury into a painful blow. It staggered him, forced him away from her. He was starting to fall over.
Her right foot caught him on the sternum. She didn't have the room to build up the energy to make it a good kick, but she was nevertheless strong enough to lift him up and sent him over backwards, towards the stairs. As her leg reached full extension and he started to fly, she realized, with shock, that his hand was still in the loop on her leash.
Hastily, she jumped after him, so the leash wouldn't drag her by the neck. She wasn't fast enough. She felt the pressure on her neck raise, she knew she was going to be pulled over -- and the leash clicked and came free of her collar.
She watched, stunned, as he flew towards the stairs, chain leash stringing along after him like the tail of a comet. The tug on her neck was almost enough to knock her over, but not quite. So what had happened? Was the leash defective? Was her collar?
Was there a safety catch?
To prevent neck injuries?
She'd worry about that later. Now she scrambled to keep her footing, running toward him, before he hit the stairs. He hit. Hard, but she didn't think anything broke His nightstick clattered against the concrete floor. She took a step, balanced on one foot, hands still tied behind her back. He started to rise, painfully, and froze when she gently, gently, put her heel against his Adam's apple.
"Let me up," he said calmly. There was sweat on his face. She lowered her eyes, lifted her foot, and when he stirred she slammed his head back down onto the staircase. There was a thud. "Motherfu--" he started to swear, and cut himself short.
She turned her head slightly, so he could see she was smiling.
"Let me up," he repeated, "or I'll have you --"
She slammed her foot down on him again, on his throat. She was careful not to crush his larynx.
"Okay," he choked out. "okay. What do you want?"
She moved her wrists out from behind her back and moved them apart. He froze. "No way," he started. "You'll--"
She lifted her foot a little.
"Okay!" he croaked. "Okay! Look. I'll move one hand. Just one. The left. Okay with you?"
She nodded.
He took keys off his belt with a trembling hand, fished for one. She moved, quickly, dropping so her knee was on his throat. He fumbled for a long time, as she slowly and mercilessly shifted more and more of her weight to her knee. Finally, the key slid in, the chain on her wrists popped open, and she stood.
Quickly, she undid the muzzle, dropped it onto him. He flinched away. She calmly rearranged her bra.
"You pathetic fuck," she said softly.
He was shaking, like Mary. He had cut the back of his head. She could smell blood.
"I wasn't going to hurt you," he said. "We were just going to have a little fun."
"Don't make me kick you to death," she answered.
"You don't think you can get away, do you?" he asked.
"No," she said honestly. "No, I don't think I can." She regarded him quietly.
"Don't kill me," he said softly.
"Why not?" she asked. "I might as well."
He whimpered, actually whimpered.
"Do you know how hard they train us in the factories?" she asked. "Not to make animal noises like that. Atavism, they call it. Don't piss in your room, don't bark. And you fucking humans make little chimp noises yourself, the moment you're a little nervous. Funny, isn't it?"
"I've got money," he said.
"Shithead. How am I going to spend it? No, that's not good enough."
"Let me go. You won't get in trouble."
"Why not?" she asked.
He hesitated. "I wasn't supposed to take you in for another half hour. That's why I made the mouse lie about the time."
"They have to be tracking me," she said. "They know where I am every moment, don't they? So they know I'm not in the courtyard."
"That's not how it works," he said. "They track you as you pass through doors. The security gates."
"Not the doors through the PX into the courtyard?" she asked sharply.
"Those sensors don't work right. Each book is tagged. There's too many tags, too close together. They can't read your tag properly in the clutter. Didn't you see how the locks were taped over?" 
"Well," she mused. "You're saying that I can get you a demerit, maybe even drop you a point in your evaluation? Still not good enough."
"For the love of God, that's all I can give you," he sobbed. "Shit, shit, think it over. You saw that tiger bitch hit me one because I was going to -- I was going to use you. I let that slide, right? She'd get in less trouble than I would over that, right? Well, it's the same thing now. It's the same thing now." He was starting to cry.
"Stop it," she ordered. "That just makes me want to break your neck."
"Do you think they'll let me keep this job if I tell them this happened?" he asked. "For God's sake -- I've got some goodies in my pants."
She lifted an eyebrow. "This is news?"
"Coke, I mean. In a pouch near my fly. All you have to do is say you saw me take it out."
Firefox looked down at him. If he was telling the truth, there was no way Blue Diamond would let that pass. There was a big difference between selling amphetamines and sneaking around with cocaine. "I'm going to pat you down," she said. "Squirm, and I'll kill you."
First, she opened his jacket, finding nothing inside. She checked his pockets: mace, keys, things he obviously would check in and out so she couldn't keep them. She also found a small, laminated card:

Human	yellow	black	#0187	"India"
Vampire	yellow	white	#0202 	"Victoria"
Human 	red	white	#0301	"Stormi"
Human	black	yellow	#0454	"Dita"
Fox 	red	red/wht	#0518 	"Candi"

It was obviously a cheat sheet of some sort, identifying five slaves, by general morphology, hair color, skin or fur color, catalog number, and Blue Diamond's name for them. Victoria was on it. So was Technofox.
"What's this?" she asked, tightly.
He swallowed. "Women I'm allowed to use today."
"All five?" she asked, not believing it.
"It's not required. It's up to us if we do it or not."
"So that's how they manage it. And we're supposed to believe it's all a random fuck party, that you see what you like and go for it?"
"Yes," he said, nodding. 
She considered asking about Technofox. No, she didn't want to know. 
He tried to keep from squirming as she opened his pants. He held his breath as she found a small plastic packet.
She froze, and switched to her police training. Don't taint the evidence. She took a bit of chocolate wrapper to keep from leaving fingerprints or fur. She eased it out, looked at the little pouch of white powder, sniffed it.
"Well, well," she said. "Cocoa leaf go-powder. Son of a bitch, you were telling the truth."
"There, see?" he asked, relieved. "See? You can get me fired. I swear to God you won't get into trouble. Swear to God."
Firefox thought it over. Obviously, she couldn't trust him. She could threaten to kill him, but that leverage would vanish the moment they left the stairwell. It was obvious that he was breaking all sorts of rules by taking her. The problem was that she didn't know how serious that was. Tigre had dealt with that herself. Did that imply it was a major sin, or a minor one?  
He was carrying contraband, but even that had a short sell-by date. If she waited any length of time before reporting him, she'd need to explain why she had delayed. 
Killing him would be easy. But then she'd need an alibi. Could she say he brought her up the stairs, started to molest her, and she pushed him and he fell? That was the best she could come up with, and she didn't think it was very good. Blue Diamond knew she was a commando. And she couldn't just sneak back into her cell and claim she was wandering around without supervision. No, better to go back to the library, and claim she had never seen him. Let them find the body at the base of the stairs, clean off any prints and fur.
Mary had seen her go off with him. Could she rely on Mary to be quiet? No, she'd cave under interrogation. Firefox realized that without malice or resentment. The mouse's nerves were shot.
And there was an opportunity here. However much she wanted to kill him, she had to admit that a corrupted guard had possibilities... if only she could come up with a way to keep him breaking the rules, so she would always have something to report.
Holding the pouch, she suddenly realized it was obvious.
"You can get more?" she asked, eagerly.
"Sure," he said immediately. "All you want."
She looked down at his pants. His belt and fly were open, and laid back, exposing his jockstrap. It had kept him from serious injury and, Firefox realized with a chill, and it had probably just saved her life. It seemed very unlikely Blue Diamond would shrug off the crippling of a guard.
She had dislodged the cup slightly, and his pubic hair was showing. The strap was an  odd design, with Velcro in front, and Firefox grimaced when she realized it was so the guards could easily drop trousers and get their dicks out. 
Enough of that. She had a role to play.
Thoughtfully, slowly, she undid the cup and moved it aside. His flaccid penis sat in his pubic hair, a snake in a nest. Gently, she stroked it, and it stirred under her hand.
"Guess we need to discuss payment," she said, and pouted.
"Sure, honey," he said in an "I cannot believe my luck" voice.
She patted his dick and grinned at him. "But the first one's free, lover." She did up his jockstrap and pants.
He laughed. "You bitch," he said chuckling, and it took most of Firefox's will to grin and chuckle back.

"Let me get this straight," Silverfox whispered. "You think a pusher's client has leverage?"
"I'm pretending to be a client," Firefox reminded her. "He thinks he has leverage which he doesn't have. That gives me an advantage."
"And how are you paying?" Silverfox asked. She kissed Firefox, long and slow, through the bars. There was something very strange about screwing your friends in plain sight of the guards in order to cover up illicit conversations. It seemed to work, though.
"I'm going to string him along," Firefox said. "The thought of screwing him sickens me. Besides, he'll lose interest in me the moment he gets in my pants."
"He'll rape you," Silverfox said flatly. 
"Maybe," Firefox agreed. "Then I report him."
"They won't believe you."
"I've got a sperm sample. I've got panties. And Tigre will back me."
"She will?" Silverfox asked, stunned.
"Her testimony will. Tiomkin was going to hump me after my last VR session. Tigre stopped him."
"Why? Oh, that's right. You have panties. What was your VR session?"
Firefox blinked. "Funny, I can't remember. You know how VR sessions are."
"It was probably something to loosen you up. Maybe some sort of group sex --"
"Oh, that's right," Firefox chuckled. "It was me and a football team."
Silverfox laughed. "That's what that was. They gave me the same session. I was remembering that just yesterday and thinking, Man, how much did they give me to drink first, and I'm glad I can't remember the hangover." She laughed and played with her breasts for a moment. "All those sweet, hard cocks, and all for me, it was a real kick, wasn't it? I'm kind of disappointed it wasn't real."
Firefox forced a smile back. Even though she was a strict lesbian, which reduced her potential mates, Silverfox had racked up more notches on her bedpost than the other three combined. It had reached the point where they would call any attractive woman nobody recognized "Silverfox's latest" or "Silverfox's next." Shadowfox was annoyed because it was, in her opinion, a security risk. Any woman could break into their apartment and, if caught, could claim to be Silverfox's latest. 
Shadowfox was able to project an image of being sexually available. For her it was professional. For Silverfox, it was just part of her, as natural as her fragrance. A continuous, unspoken promise that she was a woman who just might become an animal for you, an animal who cared about nothing but coming and making you come. Amazingly, Silverfox was still on speaking terms with all her ex-lovers.
"Just the idea of all those men wanting me so bad," Silverfox said, stroking her erect nipples with her fingertips. "Like I was the only woman on earth, and nothing mattered but coming into me." She smiled, not shyly. Firefox was suddenly aware of guards, looking in on them curiously, like animals in the zoo.
So seeing Silverfox act this way was more than just a little frightening, because she had always excluded men, and was actually so uncomfortable thinking of men and sex that when she was a little drunk or stoned she would complain about "guy-stink" in the bathroom and had once overreacted, badly, when one of Firefox's friends had flirted with her. 
And, well, maybe she hadn't been right, or even particularly healthy, psychologically. Still, for all her faults, it had been part of Silverfox, and Firefox loved Silverfox dearly.
"Hold me, lover," Firefox whispered, finally, embracing her, trying desperately not to wonder if she, herself,  had lost something or changed in a way only her friends could see. "Hold me. Don't let me go away."