FireFox

Chapter 3

Written by Nathan Cowen

Copyright © 2005 by Nathan Cowen, all rights reserved. Reproduction and distribution of this work by any means without the expressed written permission of the author, or hotlinking from another website without the expressed written permission of the author and BondoFox, is expressly forbidden. Similarity to any person, living or dead, is coincidental.

"This food is incredible," Shadowfox proclaimed, attacking her omelet with the edge of her plastic spoon, then downing her orange juice and licking the plastic platter clean.

Shadowfox was sitting up in bed, leashed to the frame. She was wearing a medical smock, open in the back, the black fur there thickly dusted with a disinfectant powder.

Firefox was only slightly less enthusiastic than Shadowfox about breakfast, probably because Master had given her chowder recently. She wondered if their meal was breakfast. The working "day" at Blue Diamond was probably really a night. She had probably slept in the afternoon. Was it morning? Or, more likely, late in the afternoon, heading towards evening?

It was a new day, and Firefox was wondering when she would get her ten strokes. The thought of being handed over to Tigre again made her stomach cramp.

"I figured out why everyone wants to sleep with Master," Firefox said suddenly. "He gives you a good dinner. He fed me lobster chowder. Or maybe it was a bisque."

Shadowfox actually giggled. "Yeah. Oh, we had this roast beef, mashed potatoes with a hint of garlic, and the bread was still hot from the oven."

"Wonder what Victoria's eating?" Firefox asked, wistfully.

Shadowfox blinked. "His dick?"

Firefox laughed and took a spoonful of Jell-O. She had never appreciated Jell-O before. Firefox had elevated the head of the bed; unlike Shadowfox, she could rest her weight on her back. Her smock gaped open, white powder frosting white fur and red fur. Her sheet came up to her lap.

Firefox knew that everything about Blue Diamond, from the pawing of guards to drinking from dildos, was expressly designed to break down her inhibitions, ultimately to make her fuck as casually as she waved good morning. And, she realized, it was working. She was sitting, basically topless, in an infirmary and sharing wisecracks about another slave girl going down on a serial rapist.

"Roast chicken," said the woman in a bed across the aisle. "Crisp skin, and roast potatoes, with stuffing and gravy," she said dreamily. It was a bit of a start; she had been so quiet up to now that Firefox had almost forgotten she was there. She was lovely, big for an Asian girl, with long blonde hair. Dyed, Firefox wondered, or modified? She was in a smock and eating with her left hand; her right was strapped into a bone knitting rig.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I'm Diana."

"I'm Firefox. This is Shadowfox. Nice to meet you. Diana who?"

"Terpsichore 3673 Diana," Diana explained. "I'm a chimera too."

"Are all the women here synthetics?"

"I'm pretty sure, yes," Diana agreed. "At least I never met one who wasn't." She hesitated. "Do you know Technofox?"

"Yes," Firefox said, over Shadowfox's reply. "She's in the next cell over." She hoped Shadowfox would pick up on that -- would catch that Firefox wasn't mentioning anything that had happened before they were taken to Blue Diamond. Why volunteer information?

"The name's a bit of a giveaway. She's one of my students," Diana said. She grinned. "They're developing a persona for her, one she can use when dancing or pleasing a guest. Or acting, I suppose. She's going to be the slutty little barely legal schoolgirl." She hesitated. "Firefox, huh? I've seen your pictures."

"Three of clubs?"

"Three of clubs. They're working on a persona for you too. Sorry. I don't know what it is."

Firefox nodded. "Doesn't matter, I guess."

"Yeah, it does," Diana contradicted. "You don't want to be a punching bag." She paused, and seemed to wonder if she had said too much. "It's what I tell Technofox. If she doesn't get into it, if she keeps struggling, they're going to rent her to more guests who want to be rough. All that shit gets you are bruises. Believe me. The more you go along, the easier it is."

"Do you dance too?" Shadowfox asked, changing the subject.

"Dance, teach dancers, pleasure a guest sometimes," she said casually. "I've got some rich local regulars so it pays Blue Diamond to rent me by the night instead of by the hour. Suits me better."

"How did you hurt your hand?" Firefox asked.

Diana laughed. "Skidded on an olive and went right off the stage. Landed on the wrist. Fifty hour bone knitting job. And you two?"

"Tigre worked us over," Firefox said calmly, watching her for a reaction. "We each got twenty."

Diana paled. "God, you poor --" she cut herself off, and looked frightened. Then, she tapped her ear and continued, raising her voice a little. "Tigre seems cruel, but Master gave you to her. I hope you're sorry for what you did."

"My, yes," Shadowfox said, and rolled her eyes.

"The guilt is unendurable," Firefox agreed solemnly.

"I'm really glad that Tigre gave us a chance to make up for it," Shadowfox said firmly.

"I'm going to thank her first chance I get," Firefox agreed. She mimed working the slide on an autoloader, pointed it, closed one eye and jerked her hand with recoil.

Diana was covering her mouth and twitching with suppressed laughter, shaking her head frantically.

The door was pushed open and for a horrified moment Firefox thought they had a video feed. Instead, it was two guards frog marching a naked Victoria. She had a black eye, which was swelling and her head bobbed up and down vacuously. "M'sorry, m'sorry, m'sorry," she slurred, over and over, and Firefox instantly realized she had been drugged. "Din meanta -- din meanta. Pease don' hur' me. M'sorry."

"It's okay, Victoria," one of the guards was saying gently. "It's okay. You didn't hurt anyone. You're a good girl."

"Din meanta."

The door was shoved open again and Master walked in, wearing a bathrobe. His hair was mussed, and he walked quickly over to Victoria.

She looked up, and started to cry. "M'sorry. Pease no Tigre."

"It's okay, Victoria," Master said intently. "You just had a bad dream."

"Din meanta," she repeated.

"Victoria," he ordered, "Look at me. I'm all right, aren't I?"

There was a long pause.

"Masser?" she finally asked.

"You had a bad dream," he repeated, "and you panicked. It's all right. I'm not angry."

Firefox was sitting bolt upright, locked into position by shock. Because there was a smell of blood in the air, and Victoria added to it every time she breathed out through her mouth, air moving out past long, white teeth with bright red stains between them.

"Love you, Masser," Victoria said finally.

"I know." He kissed her on the forehead. "We gave you something to help you sleep. Sleep and we'll talk tomorrow."

Bloodstains. Rare beef? Her blood? She had a black eye -- maybe she had also been punched in the mouth? Master's blood? No, he didn't seem hurt.

"No Tigre?"

"We'll talk tomorrow," he repeated. "Chain her down."

One of the guards leashed her onto the bed next to Diana. Master patted Victoria on the arm. A nurse came in with a bandage that smelled of trauma drugs, and carefully stuck it into place over Victoria's swollen eye.

Then Master looked over at Firefox. Uncomfortably, she closed the gap in her shirt with one hand. He didn't smell of blood. No, he was unhurt.

"Now, why cover up something so beautiful, and so delicious?" he asked. He smiled slightly.

Firefox's hand actually shook, and she couldn't keep her eyes on his. She felt herself flush under his gaze, knew his eyes were touching fur and curves he had stroked into ecstasy. He moved the tray away and sat on the bed.

His frank appraisal of her body was so different from the occasional, furtive glances she would get outside; generally when humans thought she wasn't looking at them. Instead, it was an assessment; as unashamed and casual as though he was looking at a pornographic picture in private. He wasn't wondering if he should try to talk to her, he was deciding if he should push the sheet off and mount her. And the fact was that she wanted him to fill her.

"Basically," he said, "there's two ways the women here make money for us." He pointed at Diana. "There's girls to look at, and," he pointed at Shadowfox, "there's girls to come into."

Firefox was silent.

"Your scrawny little friend is a lucky girl. She's modeling tonight." He rested a hand on the upper curve of her breast, dared her to protest. Her ears flattened. "Still photography, by a single freelancer. That's normally light duty."

"Normally," Firefox echoed.

"He needs two models. The other one can be you, or Tigre." He let her consider that. "If you accept, show respect."

Damn. He knew there was nothing she wouldn't do to spare Technofox that. "Yes, Master," she said, voice carefully neutral. He waited expectantly.

"Is that a no?" he asked sharply.

"No, Master," Firefox said, confused. "It's a yes, Master."

"Master," Shadowfox interrupted, "respectfully, she doesn't understand, Master."

He nodded. "Very well. Explain to her."

Shadowfox hesitated, and looked at Firefox apologetically.

"'Show respect' is a specific gesture of respect. Stand in front of him, your eyes lowered," she said.

Firefox nodded to her and smiled, letting her know she didn't blame her. Her leash gave her plenty of slack; it was there to keep the slaves close to their beds, and Blue Diamond didn't want to risk a neck injury if they fell out. Firefox kept her eyes on his waist.

"Bare yourself to your Master," Shadowfox said.

Without lifting her eyes, Firefox sighed softly and shrugged out of her hospital smock, letting it drop to the floor. She could feel his eyes on her. It was foolish, she knew; the only parts of her body he had not seen and touched or whipped were covered by red leather straps. Still, she felt impossibly naked under his gaze, as though each time he found another way to violate her. And even thinking of that, she felt her nipples stiffen. She told herself it was the air, although it wasn't even cool.

"Kneel before him."

She had expected this, but it still took an effort to lower herself down, to bring her head to the level of his crotch.

"Touch your breasts to the floor."

She closed her eyes. Damn. She lowered her rump to her heels, leaned forward until she felt cold linoleum against her warm, soft breasts. This brought her face near to his shoes, and she knew what the next command would be. She felt herself shaking with suppressed anger.

"Taste his foot, or the floor," Shadowfox said reluctantly.

She closed her eyes and the tip of her pink tongue scraped delicately over the felt of his slipper.

"Now kneel, and stand when he leaves the room or touches your ear."

She came to her knees quickly, glad that the worst was over. She opened her eyes, and saw the bulge under his robe.

Firefox had never had a problem with oral sex, not with her boyfriends. The shape of her jaw and muzzle made it easy to take a man deep into her mouth without gagging. It was, well, fun and friendly. But here, now, with him, the thought was repugnant. A woman slave on her knees, naked, pleasuring a man at his command with no chance of an orgasm -- in context, it was the perfect act of sexual servitude. And despite that, the thought of his coming into her mouth, of feeling him squirt past her tongue and down her throat -- it set her teeth on edge with anticipation, excitement dewed her between her legs. She couldn't look away from him, knowing that if he took it out, she'd take it in.

He reached down and his fingers brushed her ear; she stood, with mingled relief and disappointment, and then relief that he would never know how very, very enthusiastically she would have gone down on him. And, she had an excuse not to meet his eyes, and they would think her ragged breath was anger.

"Good girl," he said, thoughtfully. He looked over at Shadowfox. "That was well done. I'm glad to see you're giving the new slaves the benefit of your experience."

Experience,Firefox wondered. What experience? She glanced over at Shadowfox, who looked away, stonily.

"I'll have the nurse bring in your clothes," Master said. He turned to the guards. "Bring the black one to Grooming 213, and the red one to Torment 233."

Technofox was already in Torment 233. She was tied, spread-eagled, onto a table, and shifting uncomfortably. Firefox could smell recent sex, hanging in the air. She recognized the man by scent: the blond.

There was a pair of cables dangling down next to Technofox. The guard escorting Firefox silently and efficiently strung her up without ever allowing her wrists free while he was within reach. He was quite careful.

"Hey, Mitch," came a familiar voice. Firefox turned. It was the blond guard. He smiled at her, looked at her bra, as though wondering if he should rip it off.

"Afternoon," Mitch said, glancing over.

"She secure?" he asked, pointing at Firefox.

Mitch looked over. "Yes."

"I've got some time?"

Mitch grinned. "Some." He walked out.

The blond looked at them both. He walked over in front of Technofox and lowered his pants.

"Please, not again," Technofox whispered. He worked at his penis. "Please," Technofox said again, voice louder. "Please do her--"

Technofox froze. Firefox stared at her, horrified. Please do her instead. Technofox had barely kept herself from saying it.

He looked down, shook his head. He pulled his pants back up, patted Firefox on the side of her face, and grinned. "Some other time, baby."

He went off to work at a keyboard. Firefox wondered what that was -- his rape log, maybe? Firefox lowered her voice, turned to Technofox, whispered.

"How are you?" Firefox asked.

Technofox was looking at her oddly. Uncomfortably. She lowered her voice and Firefox's ears twitched.

"You came on stage," Technofox accused her, half disbelieving. "Tigre was beating us, and you came on stage."

"They had a vibrator on me," Firefox replied, offended, voice pitched low. "That blue costume jewelry."

Technofox immediately looked apologetic. "I'm sorry." Technofox looked away. "I'm ... sorry."

"You know Alice?" Firefox asked, playing a hunch.

"That big German Shepherd? Sure. Why?" Technofox asked, puzzled.

"Know if she acted weird today?"

Technofox looked stunned. "She dropped a tray of glasses at the bar and started crying. They sent her away. How did you -- ?"

Firefox smiled to herself and remained silent, in part to get even for Technofox's suspicion and in part because she still wasn't sure what was going on. Victoria hauled into the infirmary, terrified, drugged, and her cellmate nervous all day...

The door opened, and Master came in. He was wearing street clothes, and a polo shirt. Tigre stalked silently behind him, in a black leather bikini with chrome studs. The blond guard nodded and left the room.

"Get me the slapstick," he ordered her. She went off to get something from the wall, where Firefox couldn't see her.

"You two have an opportunity to pose for photographs today," he said. "The photographer will tell us he was pleased with you both, or we will find a task more suited to a less co-operative nature for tomorrow." Tigre came back and presented the handle of a paddle to him. The blade was wide, rectangular, and it was designed to be used with one hand. He took it from her. "Thank you, girl."

Tigre nodded her head down, avoiding his eyes. He touched her ear and she straightened, focused feral eyes on Firefox.

"This," he said, "is a slapstick." He suddenly whistled it through the air and landed a blow on Firefox's hip.

She flinched away from it automatically, and Technofox let out a sympathetic yelp. It was loud, louder even than a whip. Firefox blinked, puzzled. It only left a slight stinging sensation. Firefox had hurt herself worse bumping into walls.

"Neat, huh?" Master asked. "There's two parallel blades, and the noise is all from their hitting one another. It's got a lot of give so no matter how hard you hit, it doesn't hurt. That's where the phrase 'slapstick comedy' comes from -- actors belting one another with harmless but nasty sounding slapsticks." He poked Firefox in the breast with the end. "You're going to use this on her," he ordered. "To give you a little incentive, each good blow will count towards her daily ration for today. Understand?"

Firefox blinked. "Yes, I understand. Thank you, Master." She turned to look at Technofox. "It didn't hurt," she assured her.

"And just to be fair," he said, "I'll give you your daily ration with it now. If you can be a good girl."

Firefox nodded.

"Tell me," he ordered, smiling.

"Yes, Master."

He cocked his head. "Yes what?"

Firefox clenched her teeth. "Yes, Master. I will be a good girl, Master."

He nodded. "Good. Tigre, let her go."

Tigre reached up and disconnected the cables on Firefox's wrists. Firefox rubbed her hands to help the circulation.

"Bend over the rack," he ordered, "and lift your skirt."

She bent over, and bared herself to them, lifting her tail high. The mild spanking began, sounding quite ferocious, but hardly painful through the padding of her fur. And she knew, with awful clarity, that she was being given a lesson. Cooperate and it won't hurt. Humiliate yourself and we won't do it for you. Next time, they'd ask for more, constantly pushing the envelope, pushing out the boundaries of what she would do. She had licked his shoe and would do more if he ordered. All for twenty-four hours without the whip, for herself and for Technofox. May God forgive her, she couldn't refuse. She felt a moment of panic, desperation to escape.

After nine loud but painless blows, Tigre ran a finger around Firefox's vagina, pinched her clitoris, and, when she was sure Firefox was watching, licked her finger. "Master could fuck her," Tigre suggested. "I'd like to watch her eyes when you enter her."

He chuckled, and ruffled Tigre's hair playfully. It was a shocking gesture, his playing with his pet tiger. "Not enough time. Bring them to Grooming 213. We're meeting Jamison there." Master touched Firefox's ear. "You may stand."

Tigre carefully fit a gold armband onto Firefox's left bicep. She checked the fit, and then pulled a plastic strip out of it. "It's armed now," she said firmly.

Firefox felt her hackles raise.

"Aren't you going to ask me what it does?" Tigre asked lazily.

"I assume you'll tell me whether I do or not," Firefox shrugged, trying to sound polite but bored.

"It's an autoinjector," Tigre explained. "It's supposed to knock you out. But anesthetics are tricky. If you overdose, you might not wake up." She shrugged, grabbed Firefox's collar, and took a short metal rod off her own belt.

As it came close to Firefox, she had to force herself to keep from grinning. She couldn't believe her luck. The rod had eight small, but powerful magnets strung together at the end. And with her magnetic sense, Firefox could see the pattern as easily as she could see a flashlight in a dark room.

North south north north north south south south.

Tigre lay the magnetic key alongside Firefox's collar, there was a soft click, and it came off.

"You look happy," Tigre said suspiciously.

"It's good to get that off," Firefox said immediately, a semi-lie. "Wouldn't you think so, ma'am?"

Tigre shifted, and looked proud. "No. The collar reminds me of who owns me." She turned her back on Firefox, and turned to the smaller chimera.

Firefox took an experimental step towards Tigre as the tiger took out a second magnetic key. Firefox had, she thought, moved quietly, but Tigre's ears rotated towards her. Tigre made no other indication she had heard Firefox, no other indication Firefox was touching the trigger of a bear trap. It was enough of a warning. Because, looking at it from Tigre's point of view, the first thing she would do if she sensed Firefox was about to jump her would be to take out Technofox to keep it one-on-one. Besides, even if they did manage to take out Tigre, they would be locked in a room with a hostage. And nobody had played that hand successfully for decades.

Technofox was looking thoughtfully at the armband she wore.

"Right," Tigre said, lightly. She opened two cardboard clothes boxes on a table, and gestured them to step closer. "The guest, who you will call 'sir,' will fill you in on the details of the shoot. But basically, you" she pointed at Technofox "are a naughty schoolgirl. You" she pointed at Firefox "are the teacher who finds her, canes her, and in general humiliates her. Get dressed. Leave your bras and skirts here."

Firefox dressed quickly. It was a stern business dress suit, not the sort of thing she generally liked but a very welcome change from lingerie. No stockings, not over furry legs, but otherwise something she could wear to a job interview. She pulled on her panties, covering her mons from the air. It was odd and comforting to have her navel and feet covered for the first time in weeks.

"There's no underwear, ma'am," Technofox said, disappointed. She was in a pleated skirt, matching blouse, and scarf.

"No, you're a very naughty girl," Tigre said. She tossed two pairs of handcuffs over to Technofox. "Put those on, you two. Wrists behind back."

She checked the handcuffs, and, satisfied, took the whip off her belt. She let it uncoil to the floor. Firefox shuddered, but couldn't keep her eyes off the tip.

"Think I can trip you with this if you try to run, or hit fur if you balk?" she asked amiably.

"Yes, ma'am," Technofox said promptly, echoed a moment later by Firefox.

"Smart girls. Walk ahead of me. I'll guide you."

And guide them she did, wordlessly cracking her whip inches from their ears if they turned the wrong way, a casual display of skill and brutality that set Firefox's hackles up with anger and (admit it) stark fear. A final, heavy door opened, and they were inside a hotel.

It was as startling as stepping behind the scenes at Disneyworld, only in reverse. Concrete walls and industrial gray turned to wood paneling and elegant brass lamps. A woman in a low-cut maid's uniform, with collar and wrist straps, walked down the corridor intersection ahead of them, carrying a silver tray with nachos. She looked at them, and her eyes slid away. Firefox wondered if she was afraid of drawing Tigre's attention.

They turned a corner, following the maid. Firefox gasped and stood still.

The sun was setting in a red sky, sending its light through a large window. The ocean was huge and gray silver, sparkling so it hurt her eyes. For a moment, it seemed that all she had to do was leap through that window, and she would be free. She had to fight the impulse. She saw the maid rest the tray on a table between two men. The blond man put something into her cleavage; his hand lingered and she smiled at him. That was incidental; Firefox was barely aware of it, although something troubled her. All she could see was the sun and the sky they denied her. It took a light snap across the back of her thigh to get her moving again, and into an elevator.

Could the security out here really be as lax as it seemed? Apart from Tigre and the armbands, what else was there keeping them from making a scene in front of the guests? Had she just blown an opportunity to make a scene in front of the guests?

And then she remembered she had seen the "guest" who had groped the maid before: in khaki, pants off, leering while he pushed her breasts together onto his penis. She exhaled, slowly. Those "guests" weren't really guests.

And besides, she thought morosely, what would she say? "Help, I'm being held prisoner in a brothel?" They knew that. If they cared, they wouldn't be here. No, all that would earn her was another few nights as one of Tigre's props. She had to be a lot smarter.

Up four levels. The elevator door opened. Down the corridor, a woman in a tiger skin bikini adjusted her claw necklace, stood in front of a door, took a deep breath, and went in. As the door opened, Firefox could hear chittering monkeys and the distant trumpet of an elephant. Me Tarzan, Firefox thought, and tried to keep from chuckling. Tigre took them down another two doors, stopped, and removed their handcuffs.

"Do a good job," Tigre said. "Please Master. And I say that even though I'd like another crack at your sweetness." With that, she patted Firefox on the crotch, opened the door and pushed them towards the door.

Firefox had never been in a human school room, of course, but she had seen them in films and on TV. The students' desks were small, a surprising detail which made sense when she thought about it. At the front of the room was a podium and heavier office desk with a padded chair. Standing at the desk, unpacking a rigid photographer's satchel, was a dark-skinned man with a trim beard, and Firefox realized he was her first client. He was slight, almost small, but wiry.

"Mister Jamison," Tigre said respectfully, "here are the girls. I'd like to remind you that they're not trained models."

Jamison looked up from his camera; he had been checking light levels. "That's okay," he said. "I'm not a very good photographer." He pointed the camera at Tigre, who put an arm around Firefox and pulled her in as the shutter clicked. He smiled. "Pardon me, but you're a Brandon Biotech tiger chimera, aren't you? Not one of the other felid models with cosmetic alteration."

"That's right," Tigre said with a nod. "We're rare, you know. Too expensive for the civilian market, and the military went with canids." She glanced over at Firefox.

"So I've heard. I'm Milton. And you two are?"

"Firefox, sir."

"Technofox, sir."

"Milton Jamison," Tigre said softly, so softly Firefox barely heard it. Jamison certainly didn't.

He looked nonplused. "Milton, please. Sit down, please, and let's talk a little."

Firefox was wondering if this was some elaborate deception. It seemed unlikely they would just toss her to a real client without extensive training beforehand. But he seemed so relaxed, disarming -- if they had met on the outside, she would have pegged him as one of the good humans, one who neither disdained chimera or felt the need to show how politically correct they were.

Technofox sat behind a desk; Foxfire rested herself atop of one, and noticed, to her annoyance that Tigre had done the same. It looked like Firefox was aping her superior.

Jamison nodded at them. "I'm strictly an amateur," he said, "and most of my experience is with wildlife photography. I've always wanted to do glamour pictures, just to see if I can get any good results. So, I don't have a clear idea of what I'm doing either." He grinned, and Firefox instinctively smiled in response.

Of course, that would be a perfect cover for someone pretending to be a serious photographer...

"So, I'm really not used to posing models. I'd much rather you tried to work through the scenario, and keep moving, while I take three shots a second and pick the ones I like most. Okay?"

Firefox nodded. All things considered, it didn't seem like a bad way to spend the day.

"Is that a telephoto lens?" Technofox asked.

"Fifty to one-fifty zoom. Telephoto lenses give less distortion than wide angle lenses," Jamison said. He didn't seem surprised that a model, even an inexperienced one, would notice.

"What's the optical multiplier on that box?"

"One point zero," he said proudly.

Technofox nodded, impressed. Firefox wondered if one point zero was better or worse than zero point five.

"So I'd rather approach it as a bit of improv theater while I take three shots a second -- sort of work through the scenario, instead of telling you guys where to move your hands every second."

Technofox gave Firefox a sideways glance, obviously waiting for a lead. Firefox knew Technofox would back her up, and wouldn't reproach her if she got them back under whips. And that made it worse.

Firefox fought a quick, sharp internal battle. If she co-operated, she'd lose a little pride. If she didn't, then she'd probably spend the next few days chained to a table with a series of strangers' cocks inside her.

Maybe it was giving in, but she knew she couldn't handle another night on stage with Tigre.

"What are our characters, sir?" she asked respectfully, in the same tones she used with an officer in boot.

"I was hoping we could work on them together," he said. "I do want to do some glamour photography in a schoolroom setting, but I don't want to do something you have issues with. I'm human, you're not. I'd like you to stop me if we get into territory that seems out of character for chimera."

"We're not machine intelligences," Technofox said with a shrug. "There, you really are dealing with a significantly different order of sapience -- something digital. You can ask an MI how happy they are and have them respond '32.6.' People talk a lot about behavior differences between chimera and humans, but most of it's social."

"Right," Firefox said. "If your characters seem okay for humans, there's probably a chimera who will act the same way. But honestly, I'm a little dubious about the school setting. We're socialized through VR simulations, not by going to school."

Technofox grinned. "It's not accurate, but I like it. It's got that Astro Boy vibe going for it. And it's symbolic of learning, which works for the whole sexual awakening thing."

"I hadn't thought of that," Firefox said honestly.

"Interesting. The characters I came up with are pretty broad," Jamison said. "Shy but experimental schoolgirl; stern but beautiful teacher."

"I don't have any underwear," Technofox said, "so I assume I'm being experimental and daring for me."

"Right. You're just stating to learn about flirting," he said. "There's someone you're trying attract, even though you're not sure what you'll do if he flirts back."

"Am I a good teacher?" Firefox asked. "I assume you'll want to photograph us having sex, but that's hard to justify unless she's pretty much scum."

Firefox felt annoyed at herself, because she knew that deep inside, she was putting on an act for Tigre -- she genuinely wanted to convince Tigre that she could do this sort of work competently. It hurt to think of it that way, but she honestly didn't know what else she could do -- she knew she couldn't accept the punishment she had taken over the last few days, but she didn't want to be Master's whore either. Distasteful as it was, she had to admit that showing her tits off in front of a camera looked like a good option right now.

"That's a good point," Jamison agreed. "I think that part needs to be her fantasy."

"I'll leave you to it," Tigre said. "Mister Jamison, please do not leave the girls unattended. The phone on the desk connects to the switchboard and you can order in food."

"I'm sorry to see you go," he said. Was that courtesy, Firefox wondered, or did he fancy Tigre? It wouldn't be surprising if he did; Tigre was a spectacular creature and sex with something that powerful and dangerous was probably a powerful draw. He turned his camera in her direction again. "Profile?"

Tigre turned towards Firefox and lightly took the tip of her ear between her teeth. Firefox froze, startled and a little apprehensive. The shutter clicked. "Thank you, Tigre."

"Sir," she replied. He watched her leave, but so did Firefox; the way the muscles of her rump moved smoothly under her fur, and the way her hair dangled to the small of her back, coming to a point.

"Okay," Jamison said. "Firefox, please come to the teacher's desk. I'll move to the back of the room. Technofox, please go up to the board to do a problem. Firefox, as she moves up, you suspect she isn't wearing underwear. This is against the rules so you'll need to keep her after class."

Firefox sat, and tried to look relaxed on the uncomfortable, padded chair. It didn't have a slot for her tail, so she sat with it folded up like a lumbar support. She tried not to think of the photographer as Technofox stood up, and did a half turn out of her chair.

The fabric of her blouse ran lightly over her nipples, as her gaze met Firefox's. In that instant, Firefox thought she could see her nipples stiffen under her blouse. Firefox smiled to herself, without acting or even thinking. For a moment, all she thought of was Technofox's sweet little body under hers, and drawing pleasure out of it. Technofox seemed to blush under her fur, in embarrassed and flattered at the same time.

Technofox reached the front of the room, and picked up some chalk.

They did it again, and Firefox tried to remain focused on acting; she kept her face neutral and stern, more like an authority figure.

"Lovely," Jamison called out. "Firefox, can we shift places? I want to take some pictures from your point of view."

"Certainly," Firefox said, "but then you'll see the empty classroom."

"That's okay. I was doing closeups on you the first time, and there was something so pretty in your face that I want to see what you saw. I think you should play as attracted to her."

Play as?Firefox thought.

Firefox stood behind Jamison as he worked his camera on Technofox. The little technician seemed stiff, and edgy each time: Firefox blew her a silent kiss that put a smile across her face. That seemed to satisfy Jamison.

"Okay, now Firefox, you call her to your desk, and look her over to see if she's wearing underwear."

Technofox walked over to Firefox, who swept up the end of a ruler and caught the edge of Technofox's skirt, flipping it up past her navel, exposing her cleft. Firefox bugged out her eyes and whistled. Technofox broke into giggles, and Jamison laughed.

"Can we try that again, a little more subtle?" Jamison asked.

Firefox nodded innocently and fought her grin back down. She stood, and took a step directly towards Technofox, as though she was about to walk into her, knowing the smaller woman would hesitate uncertainly, as though apprehensive. She then took her shoulders and looked down at her breasts, for the bump of pert nipples or a break in the curve caused by the support of a bra. She ran the tip of a claw across the curve of Technofox's breast, the stimulation making her nipple stiffen and perk out; the fabric of the blouse seemed to cling to her hard nipple.

She went behind her and ran a single claw down her spine, as though feeling for a bra strap. Technofox shivered under her touch, and Firefox's tongue darted out to the corner of her own mouth.

She reached down, and slid Technofox's skirt up her thigh, finally exposing her entire hip, showing she couldn't possibly be wearing anything under her skirt. Finally, she reached behind and lifted Technofox's tail, exposing her pubes from behind and the pink ring of her anus.

"That's good," Jamison said, "Could you lower her tail just a little?"

Not into assholes, Firefox guessed.

"Okay, I think we're ready to go to the spanking. Technofox, could you please bend over a desk?"

Technofox assumed the position while Firefox got the slapstick. She swung it, making it roar. There was a lot of spring in it. Master had said that ten "good" blows with this would count as Technofox's daily ration, and she knew that Master and Tigre would leap on any excuse to declare the spanking wasn't good enough. She wondered how they judge the quality of the blows: microphone in the room (almost a certainty), or if there was a sensor in the slapstick itself.

Firefox lifted Technofox's skirt, and Technofox trustingly raised her tail. Firefox shifted her grip on the paddle. "Ready?" she asked.

Technofox hesitated and nodded. "When you hear the camera, swing," Jamison ordered.

There was a pause and the camera chittered like a small animal.

The blow was loud. It didn't take much noise to hurt Firefox's ears, but even Jamison flinched. "Not so hard!" he snapped at her.

"No, it's okay," Technofox called out. "It just sounds bad."

"You sure?" he asked suspiciously.

"Absolutely."

"Well. Okay then. Let's try it again, but next time, could you hit her and hold it still instead of jerking it away? I want a shot of the swat landing."

Firefox didn't mind; in fact, she was prepared to argue for more blows. If she didn't give Technofox ten, Tigre or Master would make up the deficit with a whip.

She gave Technofox six, with Jamison shifting between each blow: closer, further, focusing on Technofox, on Firefox. There was something mesmerizing about Technofox's rump; she squirmed so invitingly after each stroke, and Firefox truly longed to kneel behind her and taste her. Technofox was very good at faking pain: she tensed up before each blow and honestly seemed to be repressing squeals. Firefox was quite impressed. She wondered if the guards would be merciful if they saw Technofox squirm like this.

"I'd like to get some of Technofox's face," Jamison said, moving in front of her. "Try not to look into the camera."

After the second blow from that angle, Jamison nodded. "You're a very good actress."

"Thank you," Technofox said.

"I think that's enough."

"No," Technofox blurted out. Two more.

"Be nice to get a look at her breasts," Firefox mused. "Maybe her blouse popped open as she squirmed."

"I like that," Jamison said. "Can you undo a button or two? And try to wriggle up to give me a peek."

Firefox suddenly noticed how wet Technofox was, and that brought a moment of excitement to her. Technofox was standing in a sexually receptive pose, and Firefox had an odd desire to bury herself into her, to feel the little fox squirm and squeal as she pushed into her. Firefox shook her head, trying to dispel the image. Technofox's pubes seemed to demand her touch, invited her, begged for her fingers.

Instead, Firefox spanked her twice; once showing a tiny hint of nipple and a second time with her top gaping open. Technofox stood and buttoned her shirt, hands shaking.

"Pizza break?" Jamison asked.

"Sausage?" Technofox asked immediately.

"Thin crust?" Firefox asked at the same moment, sitting down on a student's desk.

"Sure." Jamison went over to the desk and picked up the phone.

Technofox moved close to Firefox, insinuating herself under her arm. Firefox suddenly noticed the smaller fox's eyes were tearing, she had been weeping silently. She moved awkwardly and did not sit.

Firefox felt a cold certainty. "Tigre switched paddles on us?" she asked, softly.

Technofox glanced over at her, and nodded briefly.

"That bitch," Firefox hissed under her breath. Jamison hesitated and glanced over. The two women looked at him curiously; he turned back to the phone, as though deciding he had imagined it.

"I'm sorry, love," Firefox whispered.

"No. No," Technofox insisted.

Firefox barely nodded. She wished it were possible for them to talk.

Technofox pointed to a door. "I want to use the bathroom. Want to flock?" she asked brightly.

"Sure," Firefox agreed casually. Jamison hesitated, perhaps over leaving them unaccompanied, but decided there wasn't much they could do in the bathroom, and nodded.

The bathroom had one small toilet and a sink, low to the ground. When the door closed, the temptation to talk out loud was overwhelming: Firefox had to force herself to remember they were almost certainly under surveillance.

Firefox sat on the toilet; Technofox slid into her lap. They lay muzzles side to side and whispered. Technofox started speaking. "They don't have full control over our neural implants."

That was good news. "Why?"

"Because they could turn a switch and put us to sleep instead of using these," she said, tapping her gold anklet.

"All right. What can they do, what can't they do?"

"They can detect states of arousal," Technofox said. "They can't do anything like read our minds -- all the implants are good for is motor feedback, wordless communication. I think the implants were manually locked into medical diagnostic mode, and the clocks disabled to keep the implants from reverting to standard mode."

"Is that difficult?" Firefox asked.

"I could do it with an Exacto blade and a pin," Technofox said disdainfully. Firefox tried to keep her thoughts out of her face. The implant was closely integrated into her brain; in fact, her brain had been grown around it. The idea of tinkering with it was almost as disturbing as a lobotomy. "If I'm right," Technofox continued, "they can monitor our neural state, get conscious motor and wordless communication feedback if we choose to send it, but the implants would not accept external commands."

Firefox frowned. "But if they can't shock our pleasure centers, how can they be conditioning us? They need to give us positive feedback."

"I don't know," Technofox admitted. "It doesn't make sense."

"Did you see the key she used on your collar?"

Technofox grinned. "South South North North South North South South."

" North south north north north south south south. Technofox," Firefox said slowly, uncertain how to proceed. "I am so sorry for --"

"Don't be," Technofox interrupted. "It had to be ten good blows. It was still a lot better than a riding crop. Besides, I --" she hesitated. "Even if it hurts more, I'd rather it was you. Tigre enjoys it too much."

Firefox squeezed her a little and kissed her gently. Technofox responded eagerly, shifting her hips to bring her vagina against Firefox's hand, touching Firefox's breast. Firefox was, for an instant, actually shocked, and Technofox seemed startled at herself.

Slowly, Technofox shook her head. "I don't understand it," she said. "I want you so much, so much it hurts -- and -- it's want they want me to want, but --"

Firefox held her tighter. "The timing's bad, love. That's all. Let's go out or I'll get you out of those clothes right now." Firefox's voice was shaking a little, and she had trouble breaking contact with Technofox. Firefox always had been bi and a little loose, but she also knew there was something suspicious about the intensity of what she was feeling. It had to be impossibly rough for the others; not only were they feeling stronger drives, but they were feeling it for the "wrong" sex. It was frightening enough to watch Silverfox eagerly take a man inside her; to be Silverfox and enjoy something that had always disgusted her was unimaginable. Bad enough to feel this intensity while being given orders.

They washed their hands and left the bathroom just as a doe chimera in a maid's outfit wheeled in a small cart with a pizza and several bottles of soda. She wore a collar, the metal ring making it obvious it was for a leash. Even the pizza was delivered elegantly; on a heated platter, not in a cardboard box. She looked away demurely as Firefox gave her the once over; tiny skirt, uplift bra. Jamison nodded at her and held out some folding money. She hesitated.

"Sir," she said apologetically, "with respect, I am not permitted to take a tip greater than twenty-five cents."

Which would explain why Shadowfox only had change in her cash basket. "Oh," Jamison said. "Uh, could you give me change?"

The doe hesitated a long moment. Firefox spoke. "Do they take bills away from you," she guessed. The doe's ears twitched, she looked at Firefox, and nodded briefly. Apparently, there were some rules that were kept from the guests.

"Uhm," Jamison said, and rustled in his pocket for coins, and took out a quarter. The doe's ears perked forward as she looked at the money. She took his hand, and moved it gently towards her crotch, trailing his fingers over her cleft before she took him in a tight embrace and slipped her tongue into his mouth.

"If these bitches won't do for you, ask for Mary," she murmured, looking deeply into his eyes.

"Oh," he said uncertainly. "Uh…thanks, I'm okay."

Firefox blinked. She actually felt more surprised than insulted by Mary's attempt to drum up some extra business. Mary smiled and turned around, putting a bit of wriggle in her tail as she left.

Technofox jumped on the pizza, ignoring anything else in the world. "How was the trip out here?" Firefox asked casually.

"Not bad, thanks," Jamison replied. "The waves were low, so it only took about half an hour. I had a jackknife on my keychain, but I got a lockbox outside the secure zone. I'll be picking it up on the way back."

Firefox took a slice of pizza. It was still hot, but it had cooled enough that the cheese had congealed, turned solid instead of dripping off the edges like a liquid. Half an hour to cover thirty or forty kilometers of water – a very fast boat indeed. Too fast for a conventional boat; it was probably a hydrofoil or flarecraft. "When will you be going back?"

"When we're finished," he said. "I live in San Diego, so it doesn't make much sense for me to get a room."

Firefox nodded slowly. It seemed that she and Technofox were right about where they were, which was comforting, if not immediately helpful. She took a bite of her pizza, using the opportunity to turn slightly away from him, to watch him with peripheral vision, so he didn't know she was watching. He wanted her, all right. That much was obvious. That might be good news. A local could be useful. She licked at the edge of her pizza to keep grease from dripping. He reached for a drink; she poured it for him.

"Do you come here often?" Firefox asked, and immediately kicked herself mentally.

"First time," he said. "Blue Diamond set this up for the rights to any pictures I take. If they use them, I'll get royalties. It's sort of an audition. I've sold a few pictures before, but this is the first time I've tried doing something sellable with people."

Firefox found herself liking him a little. His casual use of the word "people" was appealing. "That, uh, waitress was a bit of a surprise." He chuckled. "Guests are only supposed to hit on women with collars, but I didn't think she would hit on me."

"I usually wear a collar," Firefox said casually, before she realized what she had just said. He blinked and looked away, trying not to finish the thought. Firefox pressed her lips together. She had just told him she would fuck on command.

Technofox ate almost half the pizza; Firefox forced herself to eat slowly. She had had a good breakfast, at least. She could have kicked Technofox for rushing the meal along.

"Okay, let's move on," he said, getting his camera. "Firefox, you tell Technofox to clean up the room and leave. Then we'll go to Technofox's fantasy."

They found some cleaning supplies in a cupboard in the bathroom; a bucket and mop. Technofox held the mop reluctantly, Firefox pretended to lecture her briefly, then turned away and walked off.

"Let's try that again. Technofox, can you try to look at her lustfully after she turns away? Not quite that lustfully, thanks… okay, I think that's good. Firefox, can I ask you to take your clothes off?"

As he turned off the lights, Firefox sighed and undid her jacket. Absurdly, he turned away politely, as though giving her some privacy. Regretfully, she folded the jacket and lay it on a table. Of course, it wasn't her jacket; it was merely part of a costume. She didn't even own her body.

She shook her head. Thinking that way led to defeat, she knew. Everything she had been taught about being a prisoner emphasized the necessity of getting loose as soon as possible, while her health still held on. This place was different. They were well cared for – the diet was actually doing Technofox good – but she was afraid that she'd get used to it, that she'd spend so much energy trying to work the system and avoid flogging that she wouldn't have any left for escape.

She realized, with some discomfort, that she didn't feel outraged at stripping in front of a stranger any more. Nudity in public was beginning to seem like her natural state; she merely regretted the loss of her clothes.

After a mission, she could always relax and unwind. She knew she couldn't do that anymore; she had to remain vigilant, fighting defeatism every time she thought about it. Could she keep that up forever?

She took off her shoes and skirt, wondering if she should stall. No, what was the point?

Technofox was looking at her intently, and she tried to pretend that she was stripping for her instead of for the job. She knew Technofox was blushing, embarrassed, so she gave her a soft smile as she unbuttoned her blouse. Technofox stared, transfixed, as she shrugged out of her bra and stepped out of her panties.

"Ready," Firefox said lightly. He turned around, and tried to look like he wasn't staring at her as his eyes rested involuntarily between her legs and on her nipples. It was silly, but she appreciated that. The guards here and some of the slaves generally stared at her as though she were a statue or an exotic animal.

"Now then," he said, "I'm going to work on these pictures a bit on my computer, to blur Firefox a little, make her indistinct, because she's Technofox's fantasy. Technofox, start mopping a little. Then slowly get distracted, and start touching yourself. Firefox, please stay out of shot. Please remember the camera isn't here."

Technofox reluctantly soaked the mop, squeezed out the excess water, and started pushing it across the floor. As though by accident, she straddled the mop handle. Almost shyly, she moved it between her legs, brought it gently against her pubes, moved her hips against it. He went to one knee, zoomed onto her crotch, and Technofox lifted her skirt slowly, rubbing her lower lips against the shaft.

Firefox leaned forward, her teeth on edge. "I think I should get her chair," Technofox said. "I think I'd want to scent her."

"Okay," he said. He cleared his throat. "Good idea."

Furtively, Technofox scurried behind the desk, kneeling in front of the chair. She rested her head on the plastic padded seat, and her eyes closed and her nostrils flared.

"Firefox, please walk slowly into shot. Technofox, look up at her. Beautiful expressions, both of you. Firefox, please settle down behind her, cover her hands with yours. She's imagining you stripping her as she takes her clothes off, and she starts to touch herself."

Firefox kissed Technofox tenderly, licking her neck and her shoulders as they were exposed. Technofox returned the kiss, her tongue slipping into Firefox's mouth. "Technofox, please don't kiss her. You're imagining her working on you."

Technofox's blouse fell to the floor, and then she removed her skirt as the camera cycled. Technofox's hands were trembling, excited, as Firefox guided Technofox's hands onto her own breasts, lifted them, squeezed them, pinched her stiffening nipples. "You like that?" Firefox asked softly. Technofox nodded quickly.

Firefox moved her head down, licking Technofox's nipples, savoring them as Jamison shifted and came closer, photographing her as she licked and nibbled at Technofox's swollen nipples, as Technofox gasped and tried to suppress her pleasure.

Technofox moved her hands between her legs, and Firefox had to leave her breasts behind as Technofox began to touch herself. Technofox's breathing became deeper, more and more irregular, as she worked quickly on herself. Too fast, Firefox wanted to say, an instant before Technofox's body tensed, and shook in a climax.

Technofox curled herself into a small, panting ball among her clothes. Firefox scooted away and out of shot as Jamison worked his zoom lens, walking slowly around Technofox, catching her from different angles.

He bumped into Firefox, and for a moment, they looked at one another, startled. He was crouching; she was on her knees, and her gaze involuntarily dropped down to see the bulge in his pants. She felt oddly aroused by that, the excitement directed at Technofox shifting in an instant.

Wordlessly, she reached out and undid his belt buckle. It seemed a natural thing to do; the only natural thing to do, in fact. She felt she had a right to his penis, not an obligation to get him off, but a right to claim his seed for a reward for her obedience.

So obvious was this that she didn't wonder at herself until had his cock free of his underwear and it was in front of her face. Her nostrils flared for a moment, and she ran her tongue along it and his balls, making him fully erect and hard.

He crouched down, and started to undo his shirt. She pushed him onto the floor, exasperated at the time he was wasting. She straddled him, took his penis in one hand.

"I want to do something for you --" he started.

She shook her head. "Just come into me," she said, her voice shaking, "quick."

She moved his tip against her wet lips, shifted her weight, and took him into her, as deeply as he would go. They sat for a moment, eyes locked, her feeling him deep inside her, hard, satisfying, warm. His hands moved up to her breasts and she let him play for a moment, before lowering herself against him, the soft fur of her cheek against his smooth and human face.

She closed her eyes, and without a word, they started to move their hips. It took a moment, only a moment, for them to settle on a rhythm, and soon all she could hear was his breath in her ear, all she could feel were his arms tight against her, the rough fabric of his shirt against her nipples, and above all, his member sliding into her and out again, only to thrust back into her, seeming deeper with each jerk of their hips.

She was vaguely aware that Technofox was watching, and she craned her neck towards her friend. Knowing what she wanted through some telepathy, Technofox lay down on her side next to them, opening herself for Firefox's tongue. Firefox barely tasted her nectar before he came into her, shuddered, drew her close, and she came herself.

It was intense, it was glorious, so much so it almost hurt. She squeezed him, with arms and legs and the muscles of her vagina, and she knew she'd do anything for that moment again, anything at all to feel him come into her again. The hysteria slipped away, and she pushed herself up on her arms again, breathing more heavily than he was.

"Thank you," she said sincerely.

He smiled. "Thank you," he corrected, and kissed her on the mouth for the first time.

An analytical part of her mind was clicking. It had been one of the better fucks she could remember, and the thought pleased her. Being raped by Master and then by Tigre had been remarkably intense experiences, and she had been afraid she enjoyed it because it was rape. She didn't believe it any more. The lust she had just felt and its satisfaction convinced her of that. Something had been done to her, something to make sex better, more intense, the hunger for it harder to resist -- but she didn't crave the humiliation that came with abasing herself before her master.

"Let's fuck again," she suggested. He was still inside her, growing soft, so she squeezed him gently and smiled at his surprise.

He looked genuinely uncomfortable. "We only have another ten minutes before Tigre comes back, and I don't think I can."

"That's okay," she lied, and touched his face. He kissed her hand.

"I didn't pay --" he started, and stopped. "I mean, this wasn't part of what I bought."

"I know," Firefox said. "They didn't tell me to do that. I wanted to."

He hesitated. "Really?"

"Really." She hesitated. "I wonder if I'll get in trouble for this," she mused. "I mean, they didn't tell me not to --"

"Firefox," Technofox said, her voice trembling, "Mister Jamison, I, uh, please, I want to, uhm..."

"Sure," Firefox said, reluctantly lifting her hips and letting him slide out of her.

"You want to what?" Jamison asked suspiciously.

Technofox demonstrated, taking him into her mouth and starting to clean him diligently with her tongue. Firefox tried to stand, but instead lay down and nestled against him.

"We have to get dressed," he said gently to Technofox. She nodded once, stopped what she was doing, and zipped up his pants.

The floor was hard, but it felt comfortable, primal, laying against the man who had just given her his seed, half asleep, as he kissed her gently.

The door started to open, and Jamison grabbed his camera and stood. Tigre stepped in. Her nostrils flared for a moment, and she blinked, flabbergasted. Scent told her how far Firefox had taken her "service." Firefox braced herself. Jamison would probably try to conceal what happened, not knowing Tigre already --

"I'm afraid I got a bit carried away," he said firmly. "Please add these ladies' services to my bill. It was my idea and I take full responsibility for it." Firefox blinked and glanced at him. He knew?

"Uh ..." Tigre started. That probably didn't happen often. She regained her poise. "No, sir, that won't be necessary."

"I am not willing to let them get in trouble," he said firmly.

Tigre shook her head. "Sir, they are not in trouble. They do this sort of thing all the time." She smiled very slightly. "They haven't had sex since last night, on stage. That's a long time for them."

Firefox gritted her teeth. Tigre was provoking her deliberately, she knew, implying she was a slut among sex slaves, daring her to deny it. And Firefox knew that if she said one word she'd be dancing in chains within the hour. For 'insolence.' She wanted to tell him it wasn't true, that she had initiated it because he turned her on, he did, and the long, erotic work with Technofox that preceded their making love. And she knew that even if she did, he would never believe her.

"Sir," Tigre said gently, "it is traditional for guests to tip the slaves, no more than twenty-five cents."

And now she was implying she had done it for money! Firefox had to bite the inside of her cheek. And what she couldn't understand was that this was a bad move on Tigre's part from a business angle -- she probably just couldn't pass up an opportunity to be a bitch.

Jamison held his camera casually with one hand, and reached into his pocket with the other. He fished out two quarters. Tigre caught her eye and set her jaw; Firefox put out her hand mutely and nodded when he dropped one into her palm. What was in his eyes? Sadness? Disillusionment? Technofox's tail twitched happily as he gave her her quarter; Firefox wanted to slap her face for making it look like Tigre was telling the truth.

Firefox closed her eyes. She didn't expect him to love her, and she certainly didn't love him; but she couldn't bear the look on his face. He had treated her like a person, he had called her a lady. "I hope you enjoyed your visit and that you'll fill out an evaluation form, sir," Tigre said. "We rely on guest feedback to grant rewards and privileges."

"Thanks," he said calmly. "I will."

He put out his hand and shook Tigre's, and there was a moment of real sorrow in his eyes, of painful things left unsaid. He thought he had made love with an angel, but he had simply turned a trick with a clever whore.

The door closed behind him.

"What now, ma'am?" Technofox asked respectfully.

Tigre considered. "You go back to your cell. Tits comes to mine." Tigre smiled at Firefox. "You're my girl tonight, honey. No, not for a beating. We're just going to have some fun." Tigre looked at the two. She snapped her fingers. "Bitches," she said curtly, "on the floor."

As they lay down, she tossed five familiar leather straps at both. Bands for ankles, wrists, and collars. Firefox could smell herself on them. "Put them on." Tigre stepped back, uncoiled her whip, let the end dangle on the floor. "Collar first. Hold the collar in both hands. Kiss your collar."

Firefox blinked. Technofox didn't hesitate, and Firefox saw Tigre's eyes narrow and focus on her, the whip twitch, and she hastily kissed it.

"The collar is worn to remind you of the direction and guidance you receive from your Master."

"I thank Master for his guidance and the collar that shows I am his," Technofox replied, and put it around her neck.

"I, uh, I don't know the responses, ma'am," Firefox said, suddenly afraid.

Tigre nodded, "Turn around," she ordered. "Stay on your knees. Up higher. Lift your tail. One stroke on your ass for each mistake. Technofox, can you repeat it?"

Firefox felt herself wishing the day had never ended, that she was back posing for Jamison's photos. Because now she was a slave again, and Tigre wouldn't let her forget that.