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Reckless

Pt. 3 by H. A. Kirsch Copyright 2012

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[The Nightmare]

The lights came on so fast. Shane's room; the closet, everything a blur; something crashed down on him; Kyros and stripes and fur; yelling, roaring, suddenly the tiger's face; the master bedroom.

Shane stared at the black comforter, dizzy and confused, head throbbing. He was chest down, a little on his side, drooling. His neck hurt, a deep ache inside the muscle and tendon, a hot burn on the skin, and every time he swallowed it felt like his larynx was actually moving around.

He was bound, wrists cuffed behind his back, ankles free.

He could hear the big tiger moving around, stomping back and forth, growling to himself, huffing, snorting. Kyros came into view, still in his work clothes, then suddenly without his polo shirt, then without his pants, dick and balls swaying around.

"I tie you up, so you don't do anything else stupid," Kyros said, and tossed a bundle of rope onto Shane's back. The tiger bent over and started unwinding it, immediately winding it around Shane's feet. All the while, he muttered an endless stream of unintelligible growl-words.

The dalmatian was about to complain and struggle when he got a strange sensation in his chest, like his heart was beating hard, like it was a fish flopping around. It kept going and he started to feel faint, desperate, panicked. He was alive now; Kyros had saved him; Kyros had tore him down from hanging in the closet; now he was going to die anyway.

"What do you whine about?" Kyros said, hands stopping. "Tell me," he grabbed at the dog's shoulder, rolling him to the side further.

Shane tried to squeeze his own chest, one gloved hand fisted up and shoving at his sternum... and it passed. "I felt sick," he mumbled.

"You are sick!" WHACK! Kyros backhanded Shane so hard that dog-spit hit the alarm clock on the nightstand.

Tears welled up into Shane's eyes and he started to whine.

"Shut up!"

"I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry!" Shane barked out, scrabbling to get away from the looming Siberian tiger. It was very hard to escape, since his calves were now wound together, like a hogtied cowboy's.

"You are dressed like a boy slut and you smell like ass! Who fucked you!" The tiger didn't lift a hand, but just leaned, snarled.

I just hanged myself and all you care about is who fucked me? Shane thought. Then he couldn't remember who fucked him. Someone fucked him? Fuck? The dalmatian quickly debated which would be worse: telling Kyros the truth, or lying. "Some dog!"

"What did he do?"

"He fucked me, he fucked me without a condom," Shane whined. He squirmed on the bed again. Instead of hitting him, Kyros stalked off into the walk-in closet. "I'm sorry. I... I couldn't help it, I I I I've seen this wolf guy on a motorcycle every day, on the train, and I was desperate, and I went to that nasty club downtown and, and I met him, and he wasn't really a wolf but kind of a wolf dog or something, and I couldn't believe it and then he made me jerk him off and his friend came in me."

Kyros returned with leather in his arms. He dumped it on Shane's chest. A leather arm binder, a simple cone with harness straps and a pouch for hands. "Put your arms into this, or I make the other side of your face bleed."

Shane licked. Copper. He stuck both arms out, still gloved, still wrapped in motorcycle jacket leather, still covered in black spandex inside. Kyros shoved the sleeve over, and that was almost fun, sultry soft leather inside, the bump of the wrist cuff narrowing, then the easy open space. He squirmed his hands; useless. They were still bound together, still ice-locked. The binder was to keep him restrained when the ice melted.

The tiger snapped the big wrist cuff shut with a hard snap, then the clack of a padlock. He clutched onto a strap that hung off the bottom of hte binder.. "Pull your arms out." Shane wiggled. "PULL!" Shane pulled as hard as he could; Kyros leaned forward, and he crunched himself up to sitting. Kyros let go and the dog fell back. Shane's arms did not pull out.

"I'm sorry K... m-master, I'm a bad dog," Shane whined, hoping to accomplish something.

Kyros climbed into bed and pinned the dalmatian flat, then worked straps around his shoulders, holding the sleeve on by way of a simple buckled harness. The tiger then climbed off and stomped out of the room.

In the other room, Kyros started talking, muttering fast, in Greek, escalating until he was yelling. Shane could just barely hear a crackling voice from the other end of a cellphone conversation, but he couldn't make out any words. Then, a gasp, a huff, and, "Sorry, I was too excited. Come over. Come over now. You are busy? No you aren't. Don't lie to me, you were already busy! Come over. Come over. Come over. Come over. Come over." Then, after a strangely pleased grunt: "Good boy." "Kyros?" Shane called out.

The tiger stepped back into the room. "How did you know about him?"

Every second that passed made Shane feel worse. More sore, more confused, more ashamed, more frightened. His panic came up and it was simple terror this time, not the lopsided palpitations of some kind of heart problem, maybe from hanging - he'd read about it-

"HOW!" Kyros almost roared but did the opposite of striking Shane; he barely moved, fists at his hips, body leaned forward.

"I don't know? Who?"

Kyros stomped off again and didn't return. Shane found the most comfortable position, propped sideways against a pillow, and relaxed. His emotions slowly played through again, then left him at relative peace. Downstairs, he heard the sounds of cooking, then the solemn clanks of utensils against plates.

Then, a motorcycle came through the neighborhood, the heavy rumble and pound of straight cruiser pipes. It turned down their street, then... stopped, idling with a lumpy thunder.

Shane panicked. Someone was coming over. That part was not a dream. Whoever it was had a badass motorcycle, and that was even worse. Knowing Kyros, anyone who would befriend him was either pathetic - like Shane now viewed himself - or some kind of beastly terror.

"Kyros? Who? Who were you asking about? Kyros, I'm sorry I'm so fucked up, please don't, please don't have people come over and, and, and I don't know, who were you talking about? Kyros?"

Downstairs, the door opened. "Fuuuuck, you're fuckin' naked!" It shut fast, but someone was already in the house. "Some little kid's gonna see!" Something was horribly familiar about that voice. Too familiar. So familiar that Shane couldn't recognize it.

"I don't care," Kyros said. "I have something you will like."

"Oh fuck yeah? Great. I smell food. You gonna gimme some food?" Whomever it was, they had Boots. Thud. Thud. Thud. Thunk. Clop. They came up the stairs and every thump made Shane twitch.

"Maybe later," Kyros said, following with his padded - but heavier - footsteps.

Shane stayed facing the door, body bent like an L in a desperate attempt to make himself as small as possible. He was on top of the sheets, mostly clad in matching black, but the ashen fur and white spots only stood out more.

The newcomer threw the door open. Motorcycle jacket, long riding gloves, leather riding pants, engineer boots, bandana around his head. Wolf-dog, part german shepherd. Rex.

For one long moment, Shane wondered if maybe the horrible events of the night were some kind of terrible dream, if he'd dozed off in a corner at the leather club and was just now waking up to see Rex coming to Fuck His Ass Hard.

He wasn't at the club. His wrists were icelocked and stuffed into the leather cone of an arm binder, his boots were lashed together, and he was lying stunned on Kyros' king bed.

"Whoaaa!" Rex finally said, after looking over to the now-present Kyros, then back to Shane. "Shit, if you told me that this fucker was your big scary Master, I'd have invited him down to the club and had everyone pull a train on your spotty ass!"

"W-what's happening?" Shane said, tucking his ears until they flattened instead of just folding.

"I found him like that," Kyros said, motioning one thick hand towards Shane, face towards Rex. The wolf-dog seemed wound up, perhaps drunk. He kept moving around, like he was about to grab Kyros and start roughing him up just for fun.

"Oh yeah? He had this thing on when he was at the club earlier, and man, he wanted out of it. He just, you know, he couldn't figure it out. Guess he finally did." Rex ground one fist into one palm. "You mind?" He pointed to the bed.

"Fine," Kyros said, standing by his work desk, arms crossed, hunched forward slightly. Shane gave him a pleading look, but the tiger only contracted in on himself, either to hide away, or to wind up to pounce. Shane never could tell which.

Rex climbed into bed, gingerly but like he was tiptoeing, muzzle pulled back into a voracious canine grin, ears up hard and straight. He immediately straddled over Shane. "Mmm, I bet you're really glad to get your dick outta that metal shit, so you can get off all over that pretty black shit you're wearing," the wolf-dog growled into Shane's ear, crawling against the dog as if he was a fourlegger.

Mentally, Shane was beyond terrified. He had tried to kill himself, unless that was some kind of insane fantasy and he had merely fallen asleep after locking his wrists together. Kyros knew about what he had done with Rex earlier. Kyros knew Rex. Rex was going to fuck him, and-

"Go on, tell that big fucker daddy of yours how much you wanted to get outta that while Ranger was owning your little fuckhole," Rex said, voice loud enough for Kyros to hear.

Physically, Shane was about to orgasm and the only reason he wasn't was for lack of touch. Rex hovered over him, not touching, yet. "I... I begged Rex to take it off, and then fuck me, but he wouldn't." The dalmatian felt instantly proud, and that made him only more aroused. The thought seemed hot and risky, suddenly shifting fault over to Rex.

Rex licked into Shane's ear, then skidded over to his side, leather-clad groin against the dalmatian's spandex suit, big gloved hand petting eveywhere But. "Yeah? Well, now it's off, and I get to fuck you in front of him, and he's gonna get off real hard. Just like you." Rex rolled Shane over, then stuffed his hand up the front of the dalmatian's suit between belly and bed, fingers latching onto the all-round zip and pulling it down.

Shane whimpered, looking back over his shoulder, at Rex's mean grin and Kyros's black hole stare. All three were now hard: Rex throbbing inside his leather as he kept grinding at the dalmatian's black-encased thigh; Shane just now dropping into the cool air and against the warm sheets where he had been squirming minutes earlier; Kyros jutting out like a hooded mushroom on the end of a thick beer bottle as he stared at the grope session. "I don't know, it's a little sore," Shane said. He was a little sore in his asshole. His neck felt like someone had hung him from it. He had.

The dalmatian rolled back over underneath Rex and gave him the biggest puppy eyes he could manage. Rex just started playing with his balls, laid next to the dog, and started licking and nibbling at the dalmatian's neck. He was also instantly distractable. "Hey, Kyros, what the hell's that fuckin' cabinet there for? You got like some epic sex toy collection?"

Kyros slowly walked over to the cabinets. Then, he walked back to his desk, grabbed his keys, and again returned to the cabinets. He took his time, moving in slow motion, tail absolutely frozen. Rex just stared at him in intoxicated amazement, at the tiger's sheer motion.

Shane knew what that walk meant. It meant Kyros was crazy. He got crazy when his cat faculties took over his human ones, when he turned into a stalking predator. He squirmed harder, and Rex returned the favor by starting to tweak his nipples. Shane whined and leaned his head back against the near-spooning, leg-humping wolf-dog.

Kyros took his key and unlocked the cabinet. He swung both doors open - they would almost hit someone standing at the foot of the bed. Inside were floor to ceiling racks of black leather and black rubber, canvas straps, metal cylinders. Gas masks, rubber and leather hoods, anesthesia masks, paramedic breathing bags, hospital anesthesia bags, something that looked like a pistol-grip cock pump, a box of gray cylinders next to the pistol object, a little silver spraycan with a black lid, and several sheets of ampule-style poppers.

"Oh fuck," Rex said, startled, and then repeated. "Ohh FUCK." This time, he had a surprised chuckle and chuff. "That's nasty, hot shit." He rolled Shane back over, then started shifting the dog around. "These things full of ice? That's hot. So he'll suddenly get loose when I'm inside him? Put up a little fight?" Rex fingered at the ice locks, pulled on them, and proved that they were still frozen. Then he furthered that all-around zip until it exposed Shane's asshole.

Kyros looked through the cabinet, but then just turned around to watch. "He doesn't know I am into this," the tiger growled, urgent like he expected Rex to stop.

Rex didn't stop. He crawled over and squirted some lube onto his fingers from a bedside pump, then returned to Shane's backside and fed those two fingers in like slipping them into a bowling ball.

It didn't hurt as much as Shane was expecting; Ranger's fucking earlier really had loosened him. The tender ring mostly just felt extra-excited, registering every tiny crease in Rex's glove leather, every stitch along the sides, every bump of each knuckle. As fucked up as Rex appeared to be, he knew exactly where to bend his fingers to. Shane felt an urge to piss, and then a massive warm spread starting in his lower back, spreading to his thighs, then rising up his back right into his head.

After digging around deeper and deeper, until Shane finally yelped, Rex slid his fingers out. Amidst the clear, dark slickness of the lube on leather, there were streaks of dirty white. "There's some fine black lab, right there." Rex grabbed and wrestled with his zipper using one hand, holding the other with the two slimy fingers together like he was pointing a gun. He dragged his cock out, big and black, uncut and scalloped, with the big swell (but not sharp ball) of his hybrid knot. He reached down and wiped lube all over his dick. Along with Ranger's leftover cum.

Kyros reached back and grabbed onto one of the shelves, staring on, offering no indication that he disapproved of Rex's imminent penetration.

The wolf-dog took his dribbling, stiff, black shaft and slid the foreskin back, then rubbed the slimy head against Shane's hole. He pushed forward and let out a gurgle and then a strange little coo. "Oh man, no wonder you have this guy as your little puppy," Rex said, shuddering and grinning as he fed almost half his shaft in, then dragged it out until the head pulled free from the dog's ring.

Shane felt like fainting, overwhelmed but not exactly in pain, full and then empty, penetrated and then quivering shut.

"Your big daddy's into crazy breath play shit. That's hot. Little slender dog like you'd look great hung up from a meathook with a bag on his head," Rex said, sinking up to his knot, then dragging out again, shortening his thrusts as he picked up a good, solid rhythm. "Hang on, hang on, just, you know, make like you're sh... unh," Rex grunted, and forced his knot bulge in.

The dalmatian cried out and arched his back around, squirming like a worm thanks to his bondage, writhing as Rex's knot pushed in. It felt horrific, huge, like some massive impossible entry - and then it was in. It wasn't that much bigger than the rest of the hybrid's cock, just enough to provide a freakish thrill. As soon as Rex stuffed it in, he grunted and grabbed his cock root, then pulled it back out.

In, out. In, out. Shane almost climaxed on the spot, at the same time as he almost started sobbing, eyes watering from the overstimulation. Pain faded and mixed with the wonderful slick drag of bulging cockflesh through tight anal muscle. Every so often, Shane muttered something; Rex responded to each with grunted, even snarled, Yeahs or Uh-huhs.

As violent as the wolf-dog seemed, he was _so good_ at fucking. Shane dimly remembered that Rex had said he was a porn star, but Shane had never seen any. His tastes in porn were so specific and so shameful that he tended to forgo them and just use his imagination. Rex had to be a porn star, even if it was just talk. He fucked for show, and he fucked to get it done, and being used like that left Shane wanting every one of his desperate, nearly homicidal fantasies involving Rex to come true.

Then, the spotted dog opened his eyes and saw Kyros taking things out of the cabinet. The tiger silently, methodically assembled some sort of contraption. Full-face gas mask, the kind with a muzzle cup for a respirator and a big plastic face shield to protect the eyes. A black rubber breathing bag meant for an anesthesia circuit. The pistol-grip contraption. One of those gray cylinders, pushed into the 'gun' like ammunition. Kyros took the completed gear and set it aside, then barged in next to Rex.

"Fuck him like a girl," the tiger ordered. When Rex ignored him, Kyros pulled Rex back so hard that his cock pulled free with an audible plop from Shane's asshole. "Untie his legs and fuck him on his back, I want him to see your face, when you cum in him," the tiger explained. Then, he turned his gaze to Shane. He might as well have stared a whole rank of cavalry swords at the restrained dog.

"Yeah, sure, that'd be nice," Rex mumbled, looking as if any moment he would fall over, from whatever intoxicated him. He leaned down and slowly, almost twitchingly untied the dalmatian's legs. He rolled Shane over and spread the dog's legs; Shane kept them only tense enough to make it a little easy.

Kyros surprised the dalmatian by coming in from the opposite side and shoving something down over his snout. "Hah!" Shane managed to bark, the sound muffled doubly, by his own shut jaws and the heavy leather sleeve that muzzled them together. He whined out, but stopped as Kyros shot him another predatory look. The tiger cocked his head slightly, then cocked it again, then made a motion like he was quickly wiping something across his lips. Be quiet. Be quiet. Shane had to be quiet - the worst he could do was yowl aimlessly into the muzzle, and with Kyros' psychotic attitude, that was a death sentence.

Rex, black-eyed and as erect as a dildo, just scoffed with a bark that sounded like someone coughing and laughing at once. "Aww, this is what you wanted back at the club, isn't it?" the leathered brute said, splaying Shane's legs apart and dragging the dalmatian to the edge of the bed, then immediately stuffing his sloped dick back into Shane's hole. "I should've kept you all to myself, none of this shit would have happened, we'd have.. we'd have been... I'd have fuckin' called Kyros and we'd be taking turns in front of everyone and fuck," Rex spat the last word out as he knotted, then unknotted, again.

Kyros grabbed one of Rex's arms and slapped something around the wrist with a clack. "You fuck him without hands. You have good balance," Kyros snarled, husky tiger growl now with the added keening bite of psychotic glee. Rex didn't fight back, so Kyros pulled both wrists behind the wolf dog's back and cuffed the other. Rex did have good balance, and just kept pounding into Shane's hole, leaning back to support himself and delivering such a prostate massage that Shane forgot all about being muzzled and arm-bound and ice-locked and sore-necked and just drooled into the muzzle and out onto his cheeks as he stared up at the two big men violating him.

So close. So close. So-

The tiger swiped his nefarious contraption up and stalked up behind Rex. Seeing that made Shane clutch up inside, SO CLOSE!! Kyros yanked the gas mask over Rex's head, stretching the straps and letting them snap closed. Rex reared back and unplugged from Shane's ass; the shock left the dalmatian suddenly empty, orgasm malfunctioning and sending a squirt of urine up at the same time as seed, watery mess spraying all over his spandex-clad stomach.

Rex tried to flail around, but his arms were bound behind his back, handcuffed simply but effectively with hard steel. That, and Kyros was massively strong; one arm was enough to hold the wolf dog wrenched back, bent as if howling. The tiger grabbed that pistol grip and there was a loud hiss for a few seconds; the breathing bag inflated slightly, then puffed up all the way as Rex exhaled with a big huff. "Fuuuuuckk! FUUUCK! WHATHEFUCK! KYROS! YOU FUCK! YOU FUCK! LEMME FUCK YOUR DOG!" The hybrid yelled into the mask, collapsing and then reinflating the bag once, twice, three times. Kyros let him go, and the wolf dog stomped in a circle, spun around to face the tiger but kept spinning, then staggered over to the feline's computer desk. Rex's complaints were now simple groans as the wolf dog's body writhed and squirmed atop the desk, slowly settling.

Kyros came over and pulled the pistol grip off the breathing bag, then pulled the trash out from underneath the desk and held the 'gun' over it. He snapped the little gray cartridge out and it fell, frosty, into the garbage. Then, he popped a little white cap off the end of the bag and crushed it when Rex exhaled; on inhale, the rubber slapped in on itself and air sucked in the little opening with a spitty gurgle. "Don't worry, this isn't the dentist, I won't pull your teeth out. Just fuck you. I fuck you, and you come, in the trash," Kyros grunted, holding Rex down with his body weight.

"Motherfucker," Rex wheezed, exhaling again. Kyros crushed the bag, blasting whatever stale and fumigated air was in the bag out the vent hole. "Whathefuck is this, what, what?"

Shane had not actually climaxed. The crushing pump of dick flesh against his prostate had triggered him to ejaculate a little, but the internal reflex got out of sync and the huge rush of pleasure never welled up and flooded him. He was left lying on bed, panting, confused, upset, and aroused as Kyros attacked Rex and... and started to smother him. With no more violence directed at him, the dalmatian could simply watch. Whatever happened was certainly real, but it was straight out of his own fantasies.

Kyros struggled Rex's leather jeans down, then snorted a few times and spit into his palm. He jerked himself off until his cockhead was plump and shiny, then went to stuff into Rex's hole. He got nowhere, growled, then clutched for a bottle of lube on his desk. A few squirts on himself, a few squirts on Rex, and he tried again. After a few grunts, Rex barked and wrenched, pounding his shoulder against the desk. "Good," the tiger gruffed, then started rocking back and forth.

"SonofbitchIcantBREATHE, you asshole!" Rex snarled, although he technically could breathe just fine if he took slow, deep breaths and let Kyros huff his exhaled air out that little emergency vent hole.

Kyros didn't do that. Instead, he let Rex inhale once more, then snapped the vent cap shut. The tiger turned his rocking thrusts into outright hip slams, thick tail lashing around and knocking into anything that got in its way.

"Fuck you ARE into this shit, fuck, fuck, FUCK! Kyros, come on, lemme out, lemme cum on your dog, lemme come on your fucking dog," Rex babbled, voice muffled into the gas mask and its recirculating breathing bag. "Come on Kyros come on lemme the fuck out! Lemme out! Lemme out!" The wolf dog started breathing faster, deeper, and began clutching and struggling with his cuffed hands. Kyros just grabbed them and held them fast, thrusting hard enough to smack his hips against Rex's furry rump with a firm thump.

Shane could still feel Rex's version of that violent penetration in his battered prostate, and his cock swelled up to full tilt again. The thought of Rex, a seeming textbook badass (complete with motorcycle, cigarette habit, and fluid profanity) being suffocated and raped by Kyros was so exciting that the dalmatian came hands-free with a series of desperate yelps into the muzzle, real creamy jets of spunk splattering his entire front from groin to leathered chin.

Kyros noticed, staring at Shane while he continued jackhammering Rex's ass, countering the wolf dog's desperate struggling bucks with his own thrusts.

Rex did not notice Shane's orgasm. The hybrid was far too busy with the huff of his own breath in the gas mask, the coughing croaking gasp of breathing huge amounts of air that had little oxygen and a lot of panic-inducing carbon dioxide.

The tiger suddenly roared, the sound unhindered by any personal attempts to quiet it. It rattled the windows, the desk drawers, the floor. Shane flipped his ears back, and even then, it was as if someone had blasted a train horn in the room. Rex still didn't seem to care; his gasping turned to desperate loud barks and a screaming howl.

Kyros yanked out, and his dick flopped down like a limp raw sausage, cream dribbling onto the floor. Rex kept up his tortured barking and howling, the sounds intermingled with a strange rustling sound. Shane rolled over, groggy and blissed, and tried to see where they were coming from. The trash can. Rex had been crushed against the edge of the desk with his cock aimed downwards; most of his semen splashed into the trash can or onto the puffed up edge of the bag, crinkling the plastic.

The tiger unscrewed the breathing bag from Rex's mask and the dog gulped in fresh air. His hypoxic barks kept coming, this time full of words. "FUUUUU-HUH-HUH-KUH!" he finally yelled, sounding like he was sobbing. Kyros did nothing to remove the mask, or further restrain Rex. The wolf dog rolled side to side, stood up, staggered and tripped over the edge of the bed, then fell to the floor with a picture-shaking wham. He kept groaning and breathing deep; Kyros ignored him.

"Get out of bed," The tiger growled, clambering across and dragging Shane towards the edge. "Out of bed!" The tiger's cock left wet splats on the bed linens as he pulled Shane.

The dalmatian was half an inch to falling off before he realized he could use his legs and stood up. Kyros spun him and shoved him out of the room, down the hall, downstairs, then downstairs again. The basement. Fun was over.

"Strip," Kyros snarled, finally releasing Shane from ice locks and the arm binder.

Shane complied, leaving spandex and leather in a pile on the floor.

"Cage," the tiger ordered, not even bothering to point.

Shane complied again, and was two thirds inside before Kyros put a big foot on his ass and pushed. The dog slid to the opposite end and conked his head on the bars with a ringing thunk. "Oww," he whined, the sound coming out muffled into the muzzle.

Kyros had no reply. The tiger scooped up the discarded clothing, locked the cage, then went upstairs. He didn't come back down.

Shane lay in the cage and a strange sense of numbness came over him, as if he'd taken painkillers. He fell asleep.