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Consciousness slammed into the incoherent creature like a rush of cold air, startling the mongkat awake from a mindless stupor that had plagued him for a time frame he couldn't even begin to piece together. The last memory that echoed in his addled, confused brain was that of a sudden flash of light that blinded him to a blanket of white and the whirring, mid-pitched tone that lingered for an eternity. His senses had gone deaf, every connection to reality dissolving as his thoughts disappeared and endless drooling and overwhelming obedience had taken over all he did. How long could he have been here? Why was he here? Where was here?

Opening his eyes, he actually saw an environment around him he could almost start to comprehend. There was a busted table covered in a layer of dust so thick someone might confuse it for a blanket. The second thing he noticed was that he could actually hear noises again. Many were those of industrial machines, though there was a heavy, painful grinding echo to it that made him lurch his arms up to cover his ears, except he couldn't. He tried to move them again, then a third time, before realizing they were affixed to some sort of restraint. When he finally recognized the rattling of chains, he turned his head to the right and panic set in.

A quick look to his left side proved the situation was symmetrical, as both his arms were shackled to steel chains that were embedded into the walls through loops in the steel cuffs gripping his wrists. Below them, two more pairs of cuffs gripped just above his elbow and again above his biceps, looking more muscular than he remembered, yet also tattooed with some sort of large insect design that sprawled from his wrists to the middle of his upper arms. A horrified yell spilled from dry lips as he saw a similar predicament with his legs, sporting three cuffs each in similar layouts, and identical insect designs inked onto his fur. He was able to make them out better, recognizing them as giant silverfish.

Growling in both panicked bewilderment and genuine terror, the mongkat felt his survival instincts kick in as he began to pull at the chains to get free. His stomach growled fiercely, but the hunger was drowned out as adrenaline began to pump through him. Far as he could see, no one else was here in what looked to be a dimly lit room, the light stretching out just barely more than twenty feet before darkness took over. Green eyes strained enough to catch the blurred silhouette of a wall at the opposite end from where he was trapped, but the left and right stretched out past the visual silence, only the rusty whines of machinery long since needing maintenance to inform him anything existed past the void.

Soreness along his chest brought his gaze down once again, now catching sight of his torso. Sascha yelled as if stuck in a nightmare as he saw eight silver rings, each with an emerald bead, dangling through each of his nipples. The mongkat wasn't sure if he'd had eight before; there was no recollection of that anatomical detail he could pull from, but the tattoos of black centipedes encircled his main pair, with a grasshopper stretching from a few inches above his navel to over the lower edge of his sternum. Were these his? Had he gotten these before whatever happened to him occurred? An additional dragonfly design sported over his crotch, five green studs running along the curves of his muscular hips towards his naked package.

"What the fuck?! Why am I naked, what the hell are all these piercings?.....HEELLP!"

He probably yelled for close to an hour, or maybe a day, vainly begging for someone to save him. If no one was here, then was he to be stuck here until he died of dehydration? Even now, his studded tongue brushed harshly over his lips, feeling two hoops running through the middle of each side of his lower ones. Below him, jewelry adorned his sheath and a thick steel ring encircled his ballsac, pulling his testicles down slightly due to the weight. His voice practically hoarse by now, he slumped weakly against the wall behind him, finding small comfort in the cold touch against his fur. Tears spilled out of his eyes, though not many, as he began to come to terms with his predicament. If no one found him here before he died, no one might ever.

A loud bang woke him up with a start, Sascha's dreams of escape broken by true reality as his consciousness returned to find him still chained to the wall. He now had a better idea of what brought him here, but much of his memories were foggy at best. There had been some sort of nightmarish threat that he'd been offered shelter from as part of a sponsored...experiment? No chance he could even start to piece together what it had been, but the mongkat knew this was an underground bunker. There was no chance he'd volunteered to be chained to a wall and left to die, but perhaps the sudden stop of the machines gave him clues. Had he been deserted? Had some disaster befallen the others, victims and captors alike, that only he'd managed to live through?

When another bang echoed from far away, Sascha flicked his ears around in fresh concern. If he'd been able to move or even defend himself, he could have hid. But here, a soft light literally hung a few feet above his body, illuminating every lewd detail. Sometime throughout the night, his shaft had come to full mast and now pulsed against a glans ring that snugly gripped it from just under his tapered head. Eight inches of dark purple cock occasionally pulsed, spilling out even a couple dribbles of precum as it strained. Seven more emerald barbells ran along the dorsal side, piercings he remembered getting himself some time ago, yet he could feel a ribbed rod sunk down inside his pisshole, a steel bead resting a centimeter out of the tip. It felt like it ran deeply down his shaft and it was making it even harder to try and get soft once more.

His attention shifted again when he heard a softer, almost rhythmic tapping coming from an unknown location, perhaps some corridor down the way. Inner turmoil kept him silent as he questioned in his head whether or not to reveal his presence. Fear gripped him in this helpless, naked state, but as the seconds ticked on, and what he could almost swear were footsteps now began to move in another direction, he knew this was almost certainly his only chance to not die against this wall in another day or two. Choking out a raspy cry, his larynx starting to fail him with how dry his throat was, he managed to gargle out a loud call for help around the thickened sludge of saliva hanging in his throat. The sounds stopped for a few seconds.

"Pl...es. I...donn ana die in herrr..." Sascha's voice faded away as his vocal chords tightened up too much to get anymore sounds out, much less words. The mongkat wasn't even sure he had been loud enough on his follow up to be heard, but now all he could count on was a mix of fate and the possible goodwill of a stranger. What in the blazing hells must the outdoors be like to have others rooting around in a bunker like this? Were supplies so tight that scavenging had become a hobby, or even maybe a necessity?

When he heard a deep toned voice call back out, Sascha nearly cried with relief. He was still scared shitless, but it at least meant he hadn't lost or wasted his opportunity. Seconds later, the voice called out again, almost threateningly, as though they were as concerned about what the unknown was as he. Torturous minutes passed before he heard the sound of boots coming around a corner, his ears flinching as the reverberating shock of a shotgun blast bellowed out from the other side.

"Next one's for you if you think about playing any games. I've survived far too long to be taken out by tricks as simple as this."

It wasn't as though Sascha could let out any more noises to reassure whoever it was, but soon a beam of light broke through as a busted lock clanged to the floor and the door opened, the muzzle of a shotgun coming out first as the beam scoped around. Softly shaking his shackled legs brought the light over to him and he heard whoever it was let out a short retort of surprised horror, and then curious interest. The beam of light scanned across the room, and the mongkat recognized he was chained against the wall of a long corridor of lead pipes and several cranks. Was this the underbelly of the vault, and if so, why would he have been left here of all places?

"In all my months since the plague claimed all the lives it could, this was not on my bingo card. Are you still alive?" A nod was all the poor critter could offer back in response, and he watched as the light illuminated a rather strapping looking cheetah, dressed in a dark tan duster. He let the shotgun down, but kept his other paw next to a holster that Sascha could spy the back end of a revolver sticking out from. "You might be in worse shape than some of the corpses I've come acro...what the fucking fuck?"

The shackled mongkat turned his head sharply, expecting some awful terror to attack them, but then he noticed the feline was staring directly at him. Those golden-red eyes relayed a sudden pique of interest that unnerved him a good deal. He tried to brush it off, but there was no small chance that his savior was not a kind-hearted soul. Even still, Sascha worked to convince himself that it couldn't be too awful as long as it meant he didn't die here as a starved, rotting fleshbag.

"What kind of brainless moron would leave someone like you here to die? Good lord you look on the edge of oblivion itself; let's get you some water. I can help you out of these chains to get you out of here, but," there was a leer in the wildcat's eyes that told the mongkat this help wasn't for free, "you will owe me for that. Supplies are not easy to come by and I'll have to abandon my search for a bit while I get you stabilized." When the cheetah pulled out a large canteen and began to slowly pour cool water down his parched, cracked lips and slogged throat, for a moment he forgave him for whatever he was planning to do as payback.

Several gulps passed, some of the liquid spilling out of exhausted, stiff jaws, but much of it draining into his stomach. The cheetah wasn't stingy, giving him a good dozen mouthfuls before pulling it back. Using some on his fingers, he wiped grit and dried debris from Sascha's green eyes, fingers gliding over each of the four dermal anchors lining the orbital bone just an inch below his orbs. The mongkat hadn't been able to see them or feel them before and there was a rush of embarrassment over what he might find the rest of his face, much less his whole backside looking like. Still though, the soft caresses felt welcoming and not malicious. Sliding a few fingers down his cheeks and neck, the wildcat then hooked a couple digits into the trapped male's collar, yet another accessory Sascha hadn't even noticed around him until just now. Softly pulling on it, the cheetah snickered.

"Whoever left you here was a brazen fool. Not that I'd want to remove any of these beautiful adornments from your body, but I definitely don't have any tool to do so, or a universal key. Get used to wearing each cuff, boy, because they look far too hot on you to even dream of taking off. I think I know how you can repay me, maybe many times over. Now don't go trying to run, I won't hurt you, least not here or now."

Blood drained from the mongkat's face as he began to hear a lusty eagerness in the feline's tone, but it wasn't as though he had any choice or strength to defend himself. When the cheetah pulled out a small set of bolt cutters, the prisoner, or perhaps newly minted slave, resigned himself as each link was cut and the chains removed. The relief of knowing he'd survived rushed through him and his lack of food made him feel very faint and fatigued, causing his muscles to give out. His debtor caught him before he could crash to the floor then lifted his body up and turned him around.

"My god, you are one hell of a sexy slut, hehe, or at least you will be. Here, take a look."

Sascha saw a small mirror brought to the left side of his view and he craned his neck over to look at the reflection. He blinked several times to ensure he saw it right, but the images of winged hornets tattooed over his butt cheeks, and a long earwig running up his spine didn't fade. On top of that, a set of four more dermal anchors crested over the ridges of each of his hips, and yet again under the curve of his shoulder blades. And nearly a dozen barbells ran like a ladder along the underside of his tail, the cheetah showcasing it for the hybrid as he raised it up for a few long seconds.

"Don't mistake me for a good man. I'll get you back to my cabin and nurse you back to health, but you're going to be paying me back for that for a long, long time. You last long enough and I might ask for your real name. For now, I'm calling you Insect, and I fully expect for you to respond to that after you've healed up. You're my bitch now."

As he finished speaking, the mongkat felt a short chain run between his wrists, the arms having been pulled behind his back and locked there. The cheetah lifted him up and draped his body over his right shoulder before picking up his shotgun and making his way back out from the corridor. Sascha wanted to feel angry, wanted to fight to get free, but even now his energy was greatly waning. Soon, his exhausted eyes closed before they even exited the structure, passing out into a dreamless sleep that would only end with him waking up on a soft bed in a small bedroom, just as naked now as he had been before. His head was propped up on a pillow, and when he looked down at himself, he realized there weren't any chains running through his cuffs again.

Too tired and, honestly, too comfortable to even consider moving around much, the mongkat weakly pulled himself up a bit on the bed. He could hear movements out past the door, a small window providing a limited view outside, though most of it was covered by a blanket that kept the room dark. Looking down at himself, he noticed his fur looked much cleaner, though as his senses started to come back to him, he noticed how many of the tattoos on his body weren't ones he'd had done himself before the event. The way the cheetah had talked, it sounded like it had to have been some sort of disease or outbreak - a plague, he thought he heard him say.

His head hurt, but there was a glass of clear water waiting on the table for him and he happily drank it down. Looking back down, he couldn't shake just how much of a prostitute he basically looked like, what with the collage of pierced nipples, a ring hanging from each one, the dozen cuffs gripping his limbs, and the insects that seemed to crawl and accentuate the most sexual aspects of his body. Mantids even crawled over the ridge of his hips and over the lower nubs. Far as he could recollect, the only ones he'd paid for were them and the earwig. The best guess he had was about to be confirmed in a minute though.

"Vault 78, that's where you're from, Insect," the cheetah walked in as though he already knew his captive was awake, grinning almost like a devil as he looked over the live prize he'd taken in, "far as I found in what limited info I could pull from the few working terminals there, VaultTek wanted to see what kind of mental reprogramming they could do to their residents they took in."

"Mental reprogramming...residents...VaultTek? It's...it's hard to remember."

"Seems that was part of the point. You were even mentioned in one of the journals. Part of a group of males they meant to turn into mindless sex fiends. I assume that's what all the gear is for, probably many of the piercings and tattoos as well. They did a great job with your look for sure," the wildcat leered at him once more, "but it seems your brain was much more resilient than they liked. My best guess is they left you to die after taking the 'successful' subjects with them, possibly to sell. There were a few other projects going on in there, but that's not information a slave like you needs to know."

"That's what I am to you then? A toy?" Sascha grimaced. It wasn't as though he had any say in these matters, as weak and confused of a state he was in.

"I left a good haul of supplies behind to ensure I got you back safe, and had to blow a hole through a wanker that seemed way too interested in taking you off my paws. You owe me a lot, and your body is too alluring to ignore. Ain't like you got a choice in the matters," the menacing wildcat patted the revolver on his lap. "I'm Dreskel, but you'll refer to me as Master unless otherwise told. I think it might take some legitimate time for you to pay back what I feel you owe me, so we might as well get on 'friendly' terms now. Understand?"

"Yes...Master," it took a few seconds of hesitation to get the words out, but Sascha knew he was in less than no place to negotiate or argue.

"Good insect. Now, I plan on returning to that vault tomorrow, but that means we've got all afternoon and evening to get to know each other, intimately so. I highly suspect I'll not be your first. Though maybe the first you'll remember."

Sascha shifted around nervously as the cheetah approached him, looking at those gold-red eyes with concern. Dreskel chuffed softly overhead as he climbed onto the bed and brought his paws down to brush over the mongkat's legs. A whimper of protest fell out of the captive male's muzzle as those paws drifted up to his hips and he was pulled onto the feline's lap.

"These tattoos of yours are gonna get you into a lot of trouble, Insect. Simply too hot to pass up tracing and groping. Gonna have to keep you in some real skimpy clothes, if any at all, so I can look at em whenever I pass a glance."

Dreskel's grip wasn't fierce, though he kept his claws contracted to graze over the mongkat's lithe frame. He must not have been chained in that facility for too incredibly long as there hadn't been any noticeable muscular atrophy. His legs belayed strength that must have been built up over time from strenuous work, though more focused on stamina than power. The silverfish tattoos that ran up them may have looked disgusting to others, but the cheetah had long since been a fan of bugs. Drawing his gaze back up his newly minted slave's body, Dreskel caught sight of the mongkat's bedazzled nipples once more, particularly the first pair.

He leaned his neck forward to get a better view while pulling out a chain to glide through the three rings that dangled from the front half of Sascha's collar. Wrapping it around the central bedpost secured the prisoner's head to ensure he couldn't bite him while he dived into fantasies that had been flowing around his head for the last two days since he'd rescued his flesh trophy. Perhaps they'd planned on returning for him for other reasons, but now they'd no longer get the chance. Making sure to keep himself safe, he pulled another short chain from his pocket, using it to secure the dusty orange furred mongkat's wrists together, then using one arm to pin them both down.

With his prize's front end secured and back end splayed over his lap, Dreskel brought his head down towards Insect's rather large nipples. Each nub was plenty more developed than the average dude, showcasing either an influx of hormones during his captivity in the vault or signs they were played with a lot. When he heard Insect moan and shiver when the cat's tongue just grazed over the tip of his left one, the cheetah snarled with glee, then took the entire nub and areola inside his jaws, tongue quickly rasping over the flesh and sliding against the now-trapped ring.

Sascha gasped and shook, feeling a flood of emotions rush through him as his body began to be violated by his captor. He didn't want this, he didn't remember being into other guys sexually, but his torso surged upwards and his pectoral muscles flexed as an intense rush of stimulation poured through his chest. The feeling surged into his legs, hinting at very strong development, even feeling some small amount of breast tissue hiding underneath. Claws flexed as his first left nipple was trapped and slowly assaulted. Time was taken to warm the nub up, but as developed as it was, his body responded rapidly, blood surging under the flesh. When he felt a warm trickle of fluid spill out, though, he cried out in horrified pleasure while the feline above him purred intensely and began to suck.

It wasn't copiously leaking, but Sascha's nipple throbbed and pulsed in ecstasy and pain as the rough texture of the cheetah's tongue played over it. His arms were kept down against the pillow above his head with one paw while the other roamed about his oblique and hip, even teasing along his thigh here and there. Sascha's cock throbbed eagerly between his legs, the mildly heavy ball ring keeping his testicles resting on the cat's still clothed lap. Dribbles of male discharge spilled out into his captor's lips, eagerly lapped up while the critter beneath him squirmed and twitched desperately. Equal measure of precum began to ooze from his cock tip, spilling out around the sounding rod that seemed to dive all the way into the mongkat's bladder.

The soft onslaught continued until Sascha's abdominal muscles tightened and legs spasmed, feeling the unnatural wave of his nerves cascading out of control. His nipple got rock hard as a very unique orgasm rippled through him, leaving him to shake and whine for close to ten seconds before his muscles relaxed again and he rested back against the soft mattress once more. A few more licks on his spent nub made him croon out loud before Dreskel, his new master, pulled his muzzle back off, grinning with sadistic glee.

"They didn't mention this in what I read, but maybe that data was corrupted. Either way, what a fantastic surprise, slave. I hope they all do that."

Sascha hoped they didn't, though there was hardly a doubt in his mind that the other half of the main pair wouldn't. And when the wildcat's lips lapped over the grasshopper tattoo a few times, before continuing onto his right side, all he could do was mewl. His skin prickled as Dreskel traced that appendage over the centipede design, even leaning down to kiss at its head for a little while. It made the pec muscle flex, pushing out his minimal but working breast tissue, and the mongkat's body tensed up again as those lips took the other nipple inside, a soft drop of white fluid already forming at the top.

He switched which paw was holding the wrist chain, taking great care to both torture and please the trapped nub in his maw. It was proving to be great fun to use his tongue to flick at the pierced nipple as his prisoner's responses were so arousing. His own shaft was rock hard underneath his jeans, but he'd keep it housed for now. It was too soon to already be penetrating his slave; he wanted to take his time and savor the reisdual loss in his resistance and relentless increase in need. As his slow assault continued, he relished in the sweet taste of the milk being suckled out from his slave�s nub, savoring each drop and rare spray as Insect thrashed softly around underneath him.

The telltale signs of another impending climax soon followed, with the mongkat's body starting to grow damp with a light sweat. It wasn't terribly hot in the room, but it wasn't too cool either. Electrical grids had gone down long ago after the infrastructure system failed following the bombs. At least out here, the closest nuke had been a hundred miles away, but the fallout was still quite widespread and cancer might get them all in a few decades. However, what was a few decades in a world where death could happen in an instant if you made the wrong mistake? And with a body like his slave had, this was probably the best Insect could hope for as a living situation.

Sascha's toes and fingers curled up again and he cried out in feverish pleasure, rockets of nerve pulsations erupting throughout his chest and legs and butt. Both his primary nipples ached, having been drained of the couple ounces of lactate they could hold and in the let-down, the mongkat almost wanted to cry. The contradiction of having been saved from dying of dehydration in an abandoned vault to being taken captive as a sex slave was humiliating, though to an extent, there was some relief in knowing there would be precious few to mock him for it.

His master did give him a break after that, pulling back off the bed before removing the wrist chain, only to use two to attach both to opposite bed posts. Additional chains strapped his ankles to the bottom ones and then he left the room and closed the door. The mongkat whimpered as he was reminded of how he awoke in the vault. His head was propped up slightly on the pillow, offering him a view of his chest and pulsing shaft yet again, though his nipples stood out even more so than he thought they had before. The soft breeze trickling through the window made them sing as the nerves shot off.

Having slept for what must have been a long while, there was little fatigue to help him drift off yet again, and so he simply laid there. Many long minutes passed before his cock's erection finally subsided, sliding halfway back inside his sheath before the sounding rod disallowed any further retraction, the silver bead staring right at him. The sounds of movement outside the room carried on for a while: the rustling of leaves, the creaking of wooden walls, and soft footsteps moving about the main room past the blocked view of his door. Then he smelled food, delicious food! Perhaps seasoned steak and veggies. Sascha just about cried, in full belief he would receive naught but the worst scraps, even as his stomach loudly rumbled in desperation.

To his stunned surprise, the door opened hardly but a few minutes later, with his newly minted master carrying two full plates. Strips of cured, salted steak were surrounded by a baked potato and steamed broccoli, with what looked to be a sweet roll stacked on top. Emerald green eyes followed the cheetah's every step, shadowing that plate until it was placed down on an end table just next to the bed. Dreskel used his one free paw to dexterously open up a fold out table of his own before securing his own plate on it.

"It would be rather sick of me to not offer you the same food as I have for myself without reason. I'm going to play with you a lot, but in due time, I'll want you to be capable and strong enough to support me on my scavenging missions."

Moving towards the mongkat, the feline undid the chain looping through Sascha's collar, giving his headfur and face a few soft strokes, "Don't give me reasons to treat you as anything less than you already are. Life can be a lot harder than this if you do, Insect." Following through with the other chains, he stepped back to let the freed mongkat stretch his limbs out. The sex slave was rather confused, but the contrast of having been chained back up like he had been in the vault to having full movement once again felt like a nice gesture, even if he knew it was manipulative in nature, and likely intent. All that said, his stomach didn't give a fuck, nor did his tongue.

"I've always had a talent for cooking, and I'll be glad to keep you well fed," Dreskel's pupils contracted a good bit for a moment, "so long as you don't fuck it up. I only plan to keep you chained up when I'm not in the room, and then only still until I feel I can trust you know your place."

What other choice did Sascha have but to nod in acknowledgment?

"Good Insect. Beyond that, I have a beast outside that keeps the place guarded who is both quite a lot smarter than you think, as well as trained to not let anyone leave the premises except for myself. In time, I'll have him meet you, but know that if you try to run, you won't make it far. Nor will you enjoy the aftermath. You owe me your life, and I intend to cash in."

"Ma...master?" God, it was hard to get those words out of his mouth, "it all sounds and smells mostly normal outside the window. What...happened?"

A resigned look fell on his master's lips, not one of anger, but almost of nostalgic disappointment. It wasn't one that put the mongkat at ease, yet it also didn't bring up fearful suspense. For a time, it looked as though the cheetah was running through memories of times before, and while it was still an unknown for now, the display of long tension reinforced Sascha's fear that it must have been something big. He grunted and took a couple more bites of steak before placing the plate down and pulling out a bottle of...what was that?

"Funny how even five years later, you can still find liquor in some still not-fully-ransacked cellars of families unfortunate enough to have endured the radiation poisoning just long enough to think they'd make it through," the cheetah pulled a couple glasses from the drawer, popped the cork, and poured a half glass into both, then handed one to his slave, "feel free to drink it, though it's probably somewhat radiated still. And before you ask, basically everything around here is to some extent. Canton is-was just roughly a hundred miles from Columbus, and that bomb leveled it into ashes."

"What the fuck do you mean?!" The pretense of forced submissiveness fell for a moment as the mongkat retorted in shock, though Dreskel seemed to let it slide without even a look.

"Global war, had been brewing up for some time. Many were convinced China was full of hot air, but it turned out they meant business. Of course, we launched plenty at them too, but as you hopefully get some fragments of your memory back, Insect, you'll piece the scenes and emotions together again. Society and civilization are relics. Tiny pockets of slightly humane survivors to totally degenerate pond scum are basically all that's left. Again, I have very little clue what occurred inside your vault as of yet, but I can estimate you've been down there for at least three and a half years. Vault 78 closed their doors three days before the bombs hit, conveniently enough, on October 20th, 2077."

Sascha gasped as a sudden flash of emotional hallucinations rushed through his mind at the mention of that date: reassurances, shelter, community...then claustrophobia, fear, domination. His eyes must have gone a bit wild because the next thing he felt was chilled bourbon against his lips as his master poured some of the contents of the glass past his lips. The mongkat jolted back to the present, sputtering a little bit as a fervent burn ran down his throat, but then calming heat warmed his stomach.

"Cinnamon habanero...who the fuck came up with these flavors?" his master's voice actually felt shockingly calming, though he mentally revolted at that realization, "settle down, pet, that's all in the past now. Go on, finish the food and drink. I'll be working on my journal outside the door; it's crucial to take notes these days. Will rejoin ya in a few hours when sunset arrives. Don't go anywhere," the jovial tone turned threatening for just a second, "and don't act like a fool, slave," and then his master took the bottle and plate with him and left the room, securing a lock on the outside a few heartbeats later.

The next morning Sascha was woken up by the sensation of paws brushing along his body once again. His feline master sat next to him, tracing over the dragonfly that accentuated his crotch, eyes following the gemmed lines of his inner hips to gaze over his exposed package. When the mongkat startled and tried to move around, he felt the chains through his cuffs keeping his limbs still and his head resting on his pillow. Attempting to speak out in protest was met with hard rubber in between his jaws, leaving him to only squeal. Dreskel paid him no mind, simply brushing over his lower belly as his slave's erection began to stir.

"I will be heading out a little bit past sunrise, Insect, but there's still time to enjoy each other's company beforehand. There are a few books on the desk you can pass the time with once I leave, though I'm aware that means I can't leave you fully chained on the bed. I'll discuss that with you a bit later, but for now..."

Dreskel continued to roam along Insect's lower abdomen and womb. The dragonfly design was sharp and alluring in all the best ways, even inviting fantasies into his twisted mind of his slave being sexually dominated by one. A cazador or radscorpion would fill the mongkat's guts like a sheath, laying dozens of eggs inside of him to incubate for weeks. Just the image in his mind made his shaft throb in delight; perhaps he'd look into facilitating such an event sometime. It would, after all, be a pretty worthwhile way for his slave to pay him back. Far as he saw, it wasn't just food, water, rescue, and shelter he had provided. He also planned on training the creature on how to not only survive in the wild, rather yet excel within its rules.

That would come at a hefty price, however, but it wasn't one his pet was remotely ready for now. Breaking him so suddenly would destroy his will to endure, and the cheetah definitely wanted him to live on. Currently, he was enjoying objectifying such a helpless critter. The mongkat's limbs had only a few inches of slack in the chains to adjust and move, and the gag kept his jaws open and ready to receive whatever entered. Even the ring snugly gripping his ballsac had a steel rope secured to the bed to keep it taut. All Sascha could do was stare down in horror.

"I added a little extra punch to your share of whiskey last night to help keep you knocked out while I rigged ya up. Don't get too concerned, as most of this will come back off once I let you go from the bed. For now, I'm loving this view, so why don't we get...a little more friendly?"

Insect didn't have any choice in the matter, the critter's gorgeous body strapped immobile against the sheets. The mattress underneath was actually more comfortable than the cot the cheetah used, and provided better shelter from the elements, but his sex slave deserved such luxuries. As he'd told him before, he didn't plan on making his life or forced occupation any harder than it needed to be, and it wasn't like the mongkat had given him any reason yet to teach him a hard lesson. Leering down at him, the wildcat scavenger relished in his catch, fantasy after fantasy swirling around through his twisted mind like toilet water.

For now though, the wildcat stepped in between the chained slave's splayed legs. He traced the silverfish tattoos up from their slug-like ends at his ankles, caressing the tight calf and shin muscles as he made his way up. Five emerald studs, much like those on his torso, lined up the middle of each calf, enticing the feline captor - nay, owner, to dig into the sinew under the fur and skin, pressing each jewel more deeply into the slave's tissue as he toyed with Insect's body and mind. There were matching gems along his forearms, but the cheetah just rubbed and groped along Insect's legs for now.

His digits arced over the outlines of the silverfish, looking down at the male's open and adorned package. Whoever had been running that vault hadn't missed a detail. Half a dozen hoops gripped through the mongkat's sheath, spaced perfectly around like a six-pointed star pressing into what was now a very hard, eight inch long, dark purple cock. The outlines of the sounding rod, a tool the cheetah had found was irremovable, pressed rib like ridges along the underside of his tool, stretching out his urethra enough to show its shape under the flesh. Seven brass barbells scaled the dorsal half of his length, enticing the wildcat to tease over the lewd ladder. And a copper ring, half an inch thick, and riddled with emerald green studs, gripped his scrotum, keeping his balls tightly pulled down between his cuffed limbs.

"You're unbelievable, slave. Simply resplendently whorish."

Dreskel's claws softly teased around the mantids, those bugs crawling up the outside of his hips, their raptorial claws hitching directly over and under the mongkat's lowest pair of nipples. The dragonfly spread perfectly over his womb, a term the cheetah had decided to call it, as it would later serve as one for egg incubation for his nightstalker. Perhaps some giant insects too, if he could ensure Insect's safety during the process. No doubt the creature under him would learn to loathe and despise his master's every waking breath, but the wildcat would relish in the fact that his bitch wouldn't be able to do anything to refuse it. Given enough time and influence, he might even grow to like being used in such a degrading capacity.

Short breaths rushed out from Sascha's lips as the wildcat above him played over his body. His own eyes could catch glimpses of the cheetah's own tool, eagerly throbbing, even drooling precum, as the molestation of his legs and groin continued. There was a sadistic hunger in his eyes, and a desperate lust in his loins. The mongkat couldn't convince himself of any reality other than being penetrated and rutted by his master, in fact, no other fate felt reasonable given the circumstances and advances being made. He just hoped it would at least feel good as he'd never had anything up his rear end before. Though he also expected he'd hate it as a form of spite towards his captor who'd just traded his miserable fate in the vault for a distinctly different, yet still dreadfully demeaning destiny.

Sascha tensed and moaned out through his stretched jaws when his master stroked his tongue along the length of his engorged cock. The need to empty his bladder had reached a feverish pitch, but the sudden surge of arousal had temporarily muted that demand as burgeoning desire began to overwhelm him. Another brush over his member laced out a few dribbles of mongkat precum, the cheetah momentarily leaning forwards to spill a thick plaster of spit over his balls. He squirmed underneath as paw pads began to tease over his cock, squeezing out several more strands of translucent fluid before leaning down to softly kiss his trapped scrotum a few times.

His legs were soon unshackled, though his master kept firm hold of them and reminded Sascha of the results of him pointlessly resisting. So he did not. Soon, his hips were directly above his chest, legs sprawled out lewdly over the cheetah's shoulders, his own shaft threatening to drop a long string of precum onto his chest or face at any moment. It was an awkward position, though when he felt warm lips press against his asshole, it turned into complete indignation. Dormant nerves came alive in an instant as sensitive, but long-ignored flesh awoke to the feeling of sandpaper, forcing a lewd gasp and whine to spill from the slave's gagged maw. And when two fingers brushed over the four rings pierced deeply into his perineum, ones he hadn't realized were there until last night, he dug his foreclaws into the mattress.

Even upside down, Insect's backside was a fascinating beauty to behold. Large hornets curled around his buttocks, the black and white detail missing little in the similar intricacy, their bodies following the natural inner curve of the glutes, wings arcing out onto the center of his lower back, just barely missing the tail. Below, climbing down his spine towards his rump was a large earwig that dominated his back, its cersi gripping over the shoulders. Four of its legs hugged his sides, and the last two wrapped around the inside of his inner hips. Insect had been made to be his bitch, and he was gonna enjoy using him like one.

The humiliated moans Insect made underneath him was like music. He'd never had an ounce of control in his life before the bombs dropped, never once offered care or intimacy. Where he was when the eruptions began offered little in the way of shelter from the fallout, and everyone knew the groundwater and grown food were irradiated past the point of being safe to consume, but canned food wasn't always available. Dreskel knew his time on the accursed planet was on a short leash, maybe a few more years at best before the damage began to catastrophically break his body down. But for now, he'd indulge in whatever broken and twisted definition of intimacy he could. He'd show his pet what pleasure was truly like, as he otherwise only knew brutality.

Dreskel spent a few minutes warming his slave's pucker up with his tongue, soaking it in ample saliva as he made out with it like one would to their lover. The fleshy sphincter was the same coloration as the penis that throbbed a few inches further down, having now splashed Insect's face with precum several times. It was a true delight to stare at, its dark purple hue pulsating like a succulent black hole. A chorus of whimpers and mewls echoed in the room just like the squelches of increasing saliva bubbling in between pursed lips. Cuffed legs quivered as the minutes passed, held steady by the cheetah's paws as he dug into a hole that would remember being penetrated for the first time.

Drool began to pool and then stream between and down the mongkat's hips and taint and tail. Dreskel was passionately violating it with tongue and lips, his overactive salivary glands smearing it until fluid began to ooze into the now somewhat swollen and loosened ring. The cheetah curled his tongue upwards and began to push into it. Even though the mongkat had no memories of such penetrations, his anus hadn't forgotten, and after a few seconds of pressure he felt it relent and allow his appendage to sink inside. He closed his eyes in joy as he heard his slave cry out as the rough texture softly scrubbed internal flesh, bringing his lips back down to make out with Insect's pucker even more intimately.

Minutes passed by as Sascha's tailpipe was French-kissed in an ever deepening manner. The wildcat's tongue pulled and scratched at the tissue inside, made mostly bearable by the ever increasing amount of saliva that was being drained and pushed inside of his passage. The mongkat's legs shook and quivered, hardly even resting anymore, but still supported underneath by his owner's built shoulders. It was ecstasy he didn't want nor asked for, but it was such that he had no option. Spotted paws roamed along his lower obliques, groped his butt cheeks, dug into his hips, and occasionally stroked along his pulsating penis.

He could feel the slick, bubbling sludge sinking deeper inside and his gasps were unabated and as helpless as could be. No filter remained to keep back the cacophony of squeals flowing from his jaws, now somewhat wet with his own precum that dribbled down the urethral rod and onto his face and neck. Shaky and sweaty hands pulled at the sheets, kept rooted to the bed by the chains, just like his head was to the pillow now damp with fluids as well. And when the wildcat's tongue found his prostate, Sascha let out a wail of pleasured despair as a single stream of cum poured out like alabaster into his mouth and along the bridge of his muzzle. He was being made into the bitch Dreskel demanded he be, and there wasn't a damn thing he could do about it.

When Dreskel finally pulled his face back, his own lips, nose, and chin were smeared with saliva, but his bitch's entire taint, balls, butt, and lower abdomen were soaked with it. Without saying a word, he climbed up onto the mattress. It could be washed later, after he returned from his second trip to the vault. He'd felt the anal walls contract violently around his tongue when he scrubbed over Insect's prostate gland, but was even more amused to see a full streak of spunk roping along his face. He had planned on allowing his slave zero access to any ability to clean himself and knowing that would mat into the short fur there, forcing him to smell it for hours, was a riot.

His paws slid to the mongkat slave's inner thighs, spreading his legs out widely while still hoisting them upright. Copious dribbles of feline precum fell from his highly eager spire, seven inches of barbed flesh waiting to sink into his pet's rectum. Eye contact was made, gold-red eyes full of dominant intent staring through Insect's emerald green ones that radiated fear and indignation. Making someone else feel helpless for once was such a rush. Before he lined himself up, he took care to stare at the slave's winking, frothing pucker. Rarely would it be allowed to dry itself; Dreskel planned to ensure it would be leaking most frequently.

Sascha looked up at his owner in a wash of mental misery and physical anticipation. His cock wasn't massive like his worst fears cooked up, but it was relatively thick further towards the sheath and he knew he wasn't prepared for the barbs that lined it from tip to base. Dribbles of precum and surges from his own tool betrayed him entirely, his own equipment eager for more of the internal stimulation the wildcat's tongue had delivered. Large feline balls hung heavy below it, hinting that the orgasmic volume might be leaking back out for a nominal duration. When the tip made contact with his ring, the mongkat could only whine as the barbs prickled at the highly aroused and frustratingly receptive ring. It was obvious he'd been used many times in the vault.

One more long stream of saliva splattered onto his tailhole before the tip quickly returned against it. Sascha took rapid, sporadic gasps of air, eyes widening as the pressure increased against him, the cheetah's tool overeager and impatient, the slave's own anxious and longing, as if trained to want and enjoy such activities. Much of him now wished he'd stayed out of the vault and faced his demise with agency, oh what he'd do to go back and end it then. The tip slid inside of him after a mere few seconds and tears welled up in his eyes, but not from the physical sensations, which were as opposite as could be.

Dreskel grunted as the rest of his cheetah spear sank into its target, only his victim cried out in bliss rather than agony. The cheetah remained still for a little while, relishing in his conquest while also allowing Insect a few heartbeats to recover and settle in, but he realized the beautiful creature had been used numerous times and with frequent zeal. The walls of the tissue hugged his tool with desire, seemingly begging for that which it had clearly become so accustomed to. Desiring not to make the cravings of his slave's flesh wait any longer, he began to see-saw a couple inches up and down as his claws dug furrows against his bitch's inner thighs. And as he began to rape his new fucktoy in earnest, all he felt was the blissful joy of control.

"Satan below, slut. You must have been used a ton down there," the cheetah's words exuded excitement and lust, yet the insult stung all the more, "I'll make sure Scythe helps out when I'm not here. And even when I am." He saw the immediate panic set into Insect's emerald orbs as the mongkat's mind tried to connect name to person and snickered. "Don't worry, he's a bestial hybrid just like you are. And well practiced at delivering what your body so fervently needs."

Watching the wires cross and true horror spill on the sex slave's face was all the motivation Dreskel needed to start fucking with purpose. He knew Insect now realized he was referring to the nightstalker just outside those walls and he wanted that imagery dancing around in his head like a demonic macabre, "Watching him lay his eggs inside you, huff, will be a treat from hell itself." The mongkat squirmed and dug at the bed in a feeble attempt to escape a future he'd have no chance to avoid, "with all those insects crawling on you, I get the feeling I'll find confirmation that was their plan for you all along, my gorgeous incubator."

Sascha wanted to die right then and there. He might have shredded his own neck that instant if he could have, but the chains relented not but the one inch of give they had offered from the beginning. His claws contracted even still as his master, owner, and sadist incarnate pistoned back and forth within his eager confines. Anatomical ripples of joy rushed through his loins as his cock sputtered precum out like a sieve and his guts gripped and pulled at the wildcat's serpent, begging it to keep plowing into his rectum. Moans began to rush from his throat as undeniably pleasure worked to overwhelm his senses, claws beginning to dig into the sheets not out of disgust, but blooming desire.

Sensations began to run through him like wildfire, birthing memories to life that had neither sight or sound, but rather vulgar smell and distorted emotion. Sexual musk began to fill the air and pervade his nostrils, a scent that arose still dormant clutches of lust. Nipple rings flicked up and down as his owner, a title that felt suddenly familiar, plowed in and out of him lustfully, yet with no rush. Precum dribbled and streamed along his open muzzle and face and neck as he cried out, shocks of electric heat that ran through his arms and legs threatening to overtake his very consciousness, to break all resistances.

He tried to hold out, to hold onto his mind. Thoughts of perversions began to crawl out of mental crevices he didn't know existed. They sparked to life as the first throbs of cum began to spill into the far reaches of his guts, the cheetah above him peaking quickly as though he'd been holding back ever since finding him. The fucking did not stop, however, as the wildcat above him simply kept thrusting away, his shaft softening in no discernible way as it demanded to claim him in more ways than just physically. Sascha could feel his owner's jizz seeping down into his colon as well as beginning to splatter out from his asshole, the pulses still coming as his owner began to growl above him.

The surges did finally cease after nearly a half minute, but the rutting was ceaseless in its continued dominance of Insect's body and mind. Dreskel could see how the slut was losing himself to mental training he couldn't even recollect. His face was matted and rivulets of precum slowly oozed down his muzzle and cheeks while ragged gasps slurped through the pool of saliva and pre that mixed around in his gagged mouth and exposed throat. Shifting body language told him he was close to giving in, though this early on, he'd rebound in short order. But he wanted to make the first time intimately memorable. And as his first climax subsided, the wildcat leaned down to help his paws reach Insect's tattooed pecs, cupped his minute breasts, and returned to milking them once more.

There were aspects of Sascha's mind that still wanted to revolt and tried desperately to keep him grounded with notions of being fucked and forced to incubate eggs for a beast. For now though, their volume levels had been decreased to the point where they held no more traction against the crashing waves of physical lust. The mongkat whined and mewled through his open jaws as his rectum and prostate were slickly thrashed and pumped into like an oiled piston. His eyes were closed at this point to protect themselves from the thickening spill of precum and spit that he even now struggled to choke down his esophagus. When he felt his owner's palms move over his chests again, he couldn't help but mewl like a bitch as his nipples were molested yet again.

Just as fresh milk began to dribble, even spurt out from his nubs, the mongkat lost all remaining control of his mind and body. Cum gushed out onto his face and neck and upper chest, splashing into his open mouth and over his ears, coating his black-furred eyemask as his cries of rapture became gurgled sputters. Splayed legs shook and twitched, his balls churned in release while his foreclaws ripped into the fabric he had sweat through. His anus clenched at the cheetah's staff, urging it to unload a second time, and the wildcat obliged; just as Sascha's orgasm began to abate, his captor's climax cascaded through his cock.

Dreskel drove in as deeply as his positioning would allow, forcing the tip of his spraying spire right up against Insect's sphincter, spitting his cream directly against and then into the opening. Much of his jizz leaked into his bitch's colon while the rest sputtered back out of the slave's clenched tailhole. Thick rivers drained over his buttcheeks and womb, painting his pierced perineum and sliding up his lower abdomen and hips. Cum coated everything in a two inch radius around his pucker, with connected splatters reaching out from the central mess like tentacles escaping his guts. The cheetah couldn't remember having spilled so much in one go, and the coolness in his prostate and lightness in his ballsac told him that must have been all that was left for now.

His own legs were shaking a good bit as he slumped back down on what was now a rather wet bed. Insect squealed through the muck as his master stayed inside of his guts, creating a very loud squelch of cum as they landed, enough to practically drown out the aching protest of the bedframe. It took a couple minutes to finally catch some of his breath back, which was about the same time his now very soft and spent cock slipped out of his slave's rump. Following it was a short squirt of jizz before a soft ooze drooled out behind it, Insect's beautifully claimed anus winking and flexing, probably wondering why all the fun had stopped.

In the meantime, the cheetah's paws had kept massaging and squeezing the mongkat's supple breast tissue, forcing more dribbles of male lactate out to soak his pectorals and drain his reserves. He knew that the more often he milked his slave, the more fluid his system would be encouraged to produce, and that meant more fun for the wildcat for sure. Speaking of his slave, he noticed that he'd finally coughed out enough of his own cum to properly breathe again, though little noise poured from his lips beyond such wet gasps and frothy heaves. Man was he ever a diabolically sexy sight!

"Rest up, slut. I'm gonna go clean off my crotch and bits in the pond, then I'll make us some breakfast. I'm heading out just past sunrise, which isn't far off. I'll unchain you from the bed then, but that wild look in your eyes has me worried you'll try and hurt yourself. I don't leave any weapons in the cabin that aren't very well locked up, and Scythe won't take to you trying to break into my safe. And since I don't care to mutilate you, I'll get some mitts for your claws before I let you free."

Standing up, Dreskel reattached Insect's ankle chains to the bedposts to keep him safe, then walked back out of the room to grab a towel. A quick wipe got a good deal of the leftover fluids from between his legs, and then he returned to his slave's quarters. Cum was still oozing from the trained slut's rump, but he paid it no mind, instead leaning over to carefully and gently clean the jizz and spit from around Insect's green eyes, making sure to clear off the bridge of his muzzle as well to keep any further gunk from sliding back over them.

"There you are, pretty boy," Dreskel laughed, almost warmly, as he caught sight of the prisoner's eyes glaring back up at him, "heading out on a mission with a clear head and empty balls is no small assistance, so thank you. I'll be back in a short bit, but lemme make up a few sandwiches for you to work on as I won't likely be back until later tomorrow. Don't worry, Scythe will keep you well protected, though if you cause trouble, he's likely to subdue you in a similar fashion as I, though if you want that to happen..."

Without awaiting any sort of response, the wildcat nakedly strode back out of the room, sauntering confidently as if to put on a show for his slave. With the door closed behind him he got to work putting together several hefty sandwiches. His own food was already sealed and stashed in his ruck, but only fresh ingredients were to be used for his captive. Strips of glazed bacon and cured ham were matched with sliced tomatoes and cucumbers, both vegetables that he'd been able to grow in a small garden patch just a dozen yards from the porch. Whoever had lived here before must have had it pretty swell, he mused.

About ten minutes later, all three were done, and a liter of water set on there as well. A morning breeze brushed past his makeshift curtained windows, meeting him along with the first tendrils of dawn. The sky had finally shed its ugly yellow hue last winter, but this yellow was much more inviting and uplifting. A few handfuls and a scrub cleared his bits of the evidence of his fun, and a quick dip jolted him awake better than any coffee had. Shaking off, a second towel was used to dry himself down and then he returned inside to air dry the rest as he got his clothes, shotgun, and pistol together. Waltzing back into Insect's abode with four leather gloves, he warned him not to fuss.

Each limb was unchained separately before a padded mitten slid over his hands and feet. Each one comfortably hugged the topside of his fingers, leaving plenty of flexibility, but completely covered the end knuckles. They safely protected his vulnerable areas from his own claws should he still harbor ideas of self harm or suicidal thoughts. A dead slave would not be any good at paying him back. He then secured the copper bands that hung around each wrist and ankle to ensure Insect couldn't discard them. Once certain all four mitts were incapable of being removed without the correct key, he latched his slave's ankles together with a two foot chain, and his wrists with another, hooking it through the middle ring of his collar.

Satisfied with his slave's rigging, the rest of the chains were removed, offering the mongkat free, if yet greatly limited movement. Having lastly taken the gag out, he heard his slave sigh in relief as he began to move his jaws around, gathering up what thick fluids he could and spitting them out in one big loogie. It joined the rest of the fluids on the disastrous bedsheet and then the mongkat slumped against his owner, legs still shaky as he simply breathed in and out. Soon, however, he began to moan and reach down for his shaft.

"Gotta....piss. So bad, please."

Staring down, Dreskel finally realized just what exactly that sounding rod was, noticing a soft dribble of urine leaking out from underneath the bead. When he tested this theory by pressing down on Insect's lower crotch, the slave bucked against him and a much bigger stream of piss spilled out. A bit of toying with the metallic rod informed him that the bead was screwed on tight, but with a little work, it would release its diabolical hold on his slave's bladder. It wasn't as though he hadn't earned that relief this morning anyway.

Beckoning his slave forward, he walked him out of the room, past the small kitchen table and cot where the cheetah slept, as well as the small cooler where he kept their food. Once outside, he took him to the edge of the porch, and gently gripped his sticky sheath. He scruffed Insect's nape and pushed him forward over the banister before using his other paw to grab hold of the screwed-in silver ball. Dreskel thought about making him beg, but remembered that it wouldn't do to break him in too harshly and kill his spirit. The end goal wasn't to destroy Insect, but rather teach him how to survive at the cost of every ounce of his dignity. Someone like him needed to know his body was its own sales pitch.

Sascha bellowed out in aggressive relief as his bladder was suddenly offered a release valve, and hot yellow piss sprayed out of his organ through the hollow metal tube that would forever control his urinary continence. For over two minutes, the mongkat let out sobs of joy as a cramp that had only vanished while he was aroused or asleep abated for the first time since he'd awoken in the underbelly of the vault. By the time the stream eventually transformed into a trickle, he felt exhausted, yet quite hungry. When his master offered him a strip of steak he'd taken along, the mongkat slave was more than eager to scarf it down as Dreskel squeezed out the last of his piss before securing the bead once again.

"Will be a fun toy for the two of us to play with, I think. That said, it wasn't just you who needed to empty their bladder this morning. Plus, this will help Scythe know who you belong to."

There was no cry of protest or meek attempt to escape that the slave made. He simply closed his eyes in submissive acceptance as hot urine began to coat over his back and arms and neck. In some ways, it was a small comfort against the chillier morning air, though he knew it would likely warm up a good deal by early noon, at least if the prior day had been any hint. He simply rested against the railing, neck craned back by the pull of his owner's teeth, feeling the piss run down his legs and seep over his chest and belly, much like the still greasy slop that drained from his abused anus.

"Stay out here for a moment while I grab you new bedsheets. The rain will wash those fucked ones in time and I have a few extras. No need for you to sleep in your own muck; it's unlikely you'll stay all that healthy for long if so. I'll take care of washing you off when I get back, so don't go cleaning up yourself while I'm away. Understand, Insect?"

It took a few seconds, but the mongkat sex slave did reply, "Yes, Master."

"Good bug! Oh, and I've got one more thing to adorn you with before I go. It'll fit a future incubator like yourself perfectly!"

Minutes later, a bronze chain ran through the back and outer two rings of his collar, with a large pendant resting between his pecs of what his master had called a facehugger. Sascha tried to hunt down in his mind as to what that was, but all he had were vague memories of some alien life-form. However, from the way Dreskel looked luridly at him, the mongkat knew it was as sexually perverse as the rest of what the accursed cheetah had done to him. What a surprise...

By the time his master had disappeared from view, the tormented hybrid was dried up enough to feel comfortable walking back indoors. At least his stomach hadn't turned, and the scent of those sandwiches, and allure of the water was plenty enough to take his mind off of the current and future plans for his continued captivity. Washing it down with a chug from the whiskey bottle Dreskel hadn't hidden, the mongkat flopped back down on the one chair in the main room, turning off his thoughts as best he could as his arms dangled almost uselessly from the chain through his collar.

Sascha didn’t realize he had passed out once again until he started awake in the chair to the feeling of a scaled tail brushing past his leg. Opening his eyes, he felt an ache in both forearms that had dangled from their chained cuffs for what must have been several hours. Emerald orbs caught sight of what he almost immediately recognized must be Scythe. The beast was highly intriguing in its anatomy, with black fur covering much of its body, yet holding a much more serpentine head and a golden ridge of scales down the center of its back. He shuddered at the notion of the beast making advances towards him, but Scythe seemed to have little interest in that, rather instead hopping onto his master’s cot and regarding him with mild curiosity.

There must have been something similar in the whiskey Dreskel left behind because the mongkat hadn’t remembered feeling tired, though an hour-long romp of exhausting sex likely had some influence. The wet towel he’d placed under his butt before flopping onto the rather nicely cushioned chair was soggy and sticky, having collected much more of the cheetah’s leaking spunk. He still felt quite full as he mildly struggled to climb out of the seat, unable to really utilize his hands or arms to push off in their severely restrained condition. Sascha hoped he wouldn’t be rigged up like this for long, though the tones of excitement he’d heard from his owner about them didn’t offer much optimism.

It took great effort and coordination to keep to small, safe steps, as Sascha made his way to the kitchen window. Two more of those sandwiches sat on the table, kept on insulated ice bags, but the mongkat knew that was all he had on offer until his master returned. Eating another full one would only leave a final round to last all of tomorrow. Perhaps with luck, the wildcat would return with more fresh meat and he might offer to learn to prepare it. Moping around for now wasn’t going to do a damn thing to improve his situation, but if he offered other types of assistance, it might mean he could pay back his bogus debt in more ways than being sexually violated over and over.

He pondered on that hopeful dream for a little bit before stepping towards the door. A soft rumble from Scythe let him know he was being carefully observed, but the scaled canine only shifted its posture in the bed to maintain a watchful eye on his actions. The outside environment looked…peaceful. A thick forest panned out in all directions, but was far enough in the distance to keep a vast window out to the sky. Dusk did not look too far off and it was at least somewhat consoling to think that Dreskel would leave him be for a time, albeit quite short in relative length. His desire to kill himself had waned from earlier in the day, though his newly affixed mitts ensured there would be next to no possibility of committing such an act. At least not before the nightstalker halted him.

The sun was quite nice to feel on his fur, sitting maybe a couple dozen degrees above the horizon of the trees as mid afternoon ticked along. It was quiet out here, but not in the eerie and disconcerting way that horror stories talked about, rather peaceful and serene. No actions were taken by his owner’s beast as Sascha leaned up against the railing in such a manner that allowed him to fully rest his strained forearms on the still sturdy banister tracing the edges of the porch. It at least felt good out as a cool breeze brushed by him.

Long moments passed in the calm of an uneventful time. The mongkat tried to think back to the past, wanting to find some measure of identity and connection to what his life had been before these accursed bombs dropped and civilization and all manner of decency had been destroyed. In some ways, Sascha didn’t fully believe his captor. He felt so isolated from everywhere else that he felt he couldn’t be sure the wildcat wasn’t the one who brainwashed him and then “found” him in whatever that horrific underground graveyard was. But how could he explain the minimal, yet clear flashes of memory that he did still have then?

Trying to gauge the time he’d been down there was borderline impossible, but the mongkat was certain he hadn’t been the instigator of such lurid and somewhat disturbing tattoo designs along his torso and limbs. Though he couldn’t sift through anything remotely concrete in his head for his past, his personality seemed to remain, his sense of identity and self determination were intact. Intuition told him he’d only gotten a couple of them before going underground, so maybe the devils in the vault simply took it to the extreme, setting him in an excessively gaudy manner to better serve their own interests. Shaking his head in frustration, the slave looked back out longingly towards the forest.

His chains and the nightstalker were the only real reasons he didn’t flee to his certain demise, though they were very convincing motivations to stay. On top of them, if the world was even half as bleak as the wildcat informed him, he could very easily find himself in a far more diabolically awful predicament. At least Dreskel was giving him food and water, and good quality stuff at that. Grunting in anger at himself for trying to process his situation into one of resigned acceptance, he turned around and safely shuffled his way back indoors.

Inside felt a lot darker in comparison as the towels and blankets that served as blinds to windows that long since lost their glass blocked out much of the sunlight. It was roughly early evening by now, and the mongkat was feeling rather hungry once more. The fluids from his rear end hadn’t yet emptied out, and he could hardly hold the sloshing torrent inside long enough to make it back to the chair, sighing in relief as a bubbling slurp fell out onto the covered fabric and he felt his anus quiver and wink enticingly. Returning to grab the second of the three sandwiches, Sascha sipped more of the water his master had left for him. Though he was mildly thirsty, he knew that drinking too much would fill his bladder up and force him to endure until tomorrow night at the earliest.

Having little choice but to sit back down on the chair, outside of soaking his bed, the mongkat sex slave did so. Letting out a displeased grumble as the liquid matted right back into his butt cheeks, he began to dig into the steak and bread. Much of the towel was as sticky as he was, almost to the point where he’d have to shake his lower torso to get what was becoming a cumrag to fall back off. The idea of falling asleep like this made him scowl, but he did what he could to turn his attention back to the food. Unlike before when he devoured it without contemplation, Sascha took his time with this one, knowing it’d be all he ate for the rest of the night.

The meat was quite succulent and seasoned to be a little on the tangy side. It wasn’t difficult to assume that his master must have collected a wide stock of different spices over time as there’d be no other way to attain flavors like this on salt alone. His tongue danced along it with each bite, savoring the more positive and mysteriously nostalgic stimuli it received. He knew several of these somewhere in his mind. But as he tried more and more to find where that information was hidden, the mongkat could feel a headache from deep within start to emerge. Mentally backing away from it to avoid unnecessary pain he wouldn’t have any ability to medicate against, Sascha worked to stand back up once more.

When he headed out of the cabin a second time, the soft steps of the four-legged beast that would keep him close company tailed him outdoors. Sascha gingerly cleared the few stairs that led to a soft dirt surface, with a desire to make his way around the cabin’s perimeter to at least get some idea of the layout and structure. What surprised him was the clear existence of a second floor, or maybe an attic, that settled on top of the main room and his own quarters. He hadn’t made out anything along the ceiling that hinted at a ladder, though it wasn’t as if he could have climbed one anyway.

The building looked to be in mild disrepair with no small number of wooden logs that made up the walls missing chunks. The blankets hung from the outside of the structure, kept in place by what looked and felt like nails. Sascha wondered if the decision was in order to keep other animals from an easy entrance, or perhaps to allow Scythe a rapid exit if he needed to ensure their safety. The small garden was a promising sight that gave him an answer as to where the fresh tomatoes and cucumbers could have possibly appeared from, and it also meant that they’d be in pretty consistent supply.

Nothing about the layout or surrounding environment led him to believe his owner was bluffing. Not once so far had he heard the sounds of anything he could have called sapient, the consistent silence marred only by the chirping of birds and rustling of grass as rabbits began to awaken. Dusk was indeed upon them and with it came a bit of a chilling touch on the air. Just as he was finishing up his lap, the mongkat was given reason to howl in natural relief. Not but a dozen yards distant, a small man-made hill rose up a few feet, and on top of it was a box with a hole in it.

He could have cried on his way up, absolutely certain the nightstalker would refuse him the privilege or right to use it, but Scythe did nothing to oppose him. Beast and slave walked together, one quick to steady the other if the whore lost his footing, clearly encouraging him in that direction. Pure and absolute comfort rushed through the mongkat as he rested his rump on the box and slid his anus into place. For the first time in what might have well been an eternity, Sascha loosened his bowels and unloaded, clearing out both his waste as well as a large amount of the cheetah’s half-day old spunk into the latrine multiple feet below.

For just as much relief Sascha felt, it was entangled with physical and emotional exhaustion. He slumped forwards, barely managing to keep himself from falling over and tumbling down the small hill, but there was almost no energy left in his muscles. When he tried to forcibly push his body up with his legs, they responded like wobbly jello. Another cold breeze brushed by him and he was suddenly reminded just how sensitive his pierced nipples were, shocking him from his stupor for just a few seconds. However, this time when he tried to stand, he felt heavy paws land on his thighs and Scythe’s face staring up at him only a handful of inches away, silver eyes staring at him with an unspoken desire.

All the vulnerable sex slave could do was let out a pitiful whimper as he began to pull back in vain. He wasn't ready for this! He didn't think he could ever be ready to be violated and taken by a beast, and he hadn't done anything wrong. There was no attempt to escape, and the nightstalker hadn't tried to stop him from making his way up the makeshift toilet.

“Oh please not now. Not here, I don't wanna end up like what the vault tried to turn me into.”

There wasn’t any sign of reluctance from the beast and Sascha felt weight placed onto the chain running between his ankle cuffs, effectively holding him in place on the seat. With his severely limited range of movement with his arms, he had no defense as the creature moved in towards his crotch. Mewling, he watched as Scythe’s tongue snaked out and began to run over the edges of the dragonfly tattoo running along the majority of his crotch, and snarled in frustration as he felt his cock rapidly fill with blood in response, once again betraying his mind’s weak attempt at resolve.

As he began to twitch and struggle in what little form he could, the mongkat felt the nightstalker’s head push into his lower abdomen, and he yelled as he fell backwards. Before he could hit his head on the ground the beast’s fore-paws moved with lightning speed to slow his descent, sliding up his back and pulling upwards into him. He still landed with a bit of a thud on his upper back and shoulders, but was able to keep his skull from colliding with the sand just barely. With the ankle chains still secured on the other side, though, all the mongkat sex slave could do was watch as Scythe moved back down his body.

With his body shuddering, his green eyes watched as his stretched crotch was stared at by the large animal, as if highly intrigued by the insect forever dancing over it. Its tongue slid out and began to lick over it time and again while letting out a low rumble of what Sascha could best discern to be interest and curiosity. In some ways, Scythe looked and acted like a creature with far more thought and purpose than he originally attributed. With each lick, the defenseless mongkat could do little more than shiver, his makeshift womb tensing up with each passing stimulation.

“Fucking Satan, what the hell did I do to deserve this?”

Satan was not interested in offering an answer, but Sascha could feel his erection beginning to throb as it now stood proudly along the thorax of the tattooed bug. The heavy ring hugging his balls pulled them down against his taint and the extended posture made it a challenge to breathe, especially with the mini-seizures that were making his crotch quake. From down below, the slave could truly see the level of development his nipples had gone through. Each one stood out, hard as ice from what he could sense, over half an inch from the curve of his torso. And when Scythe took the bottommost right one inside his maw, he couldn’t hold back a croon of unwilling delight.

The beast knew how to use his lips and tongue better than any animal had a right or reason to, and it kept the slave below him thrashing in the dirt. Scythe knew his name, he knew his purpose, and he knew his lust and how to extract the most out of any victim. Dreskel had sometimes used his skills, ones he knew came from his special genetic make-up, to pull information from targets his master chose to interrogate in such fashion. This evening wasn’t for that though, the nightstalker simply wanted to watch their new slave squirm. And as the trapped victim wheezed under the assault on his nipple, his bestial desires were brought to life.

As much as the animal wanted to penetrate and claim the audaciously adorned slut, his companion had not given him permission yet. Perhaps it was to avoid tormenting him too much too soon. Victims in the past suffered broken wills and spirits, their resistances melting away as they told the wildcat all he wanted to know just to end the extreme humiliation of their own urges. Certainly, it was a tried and true technique for that intent. But even though he was not yet allowed to fuck the quivering slave, there was no reason not to make his want known. Their pet would writhe like a snake and cum like a hose before the nightstalker allowed him back to his feet. Perhaps he might even force him to crawl for the rest of the night.

From his perspective looking back up, it was undeniable that the beast that was violating him was far more than clever. The skillful, deliberate ministrations, the tongue curling into his ring and twisting, tugging, and pulling on it to please and torture his trapped nub was both incredible and awful. In some ways it made the large creature that much more terrifying, yet another conniving and manipulatively talented sexual predator. Scythe’s teeth grazed around his throbbing nipple, now soaked in canine spit, with fervent, carnal desire. No square millimeter was spared from his devilish play, the beast seemingly fully-focused on making it dribble milk.

Sascha prayed to any god that could or would hear him to please not prove that to be the case, wishing to have any measure of reasonable dignity as a male, even one turned into a beast slut like this. He was running low on energy at this point, the night air no longer feeling cold on skin that had begun to sweat once again. The way he still twitched and strained made it look like the mantises were alive, what was visible of their raptorial claws dancing above the bottom pair of fleshy nubs. The grasshopper below his sternum rippled as if it were about to jump, and the seven still visible rings flashed about in the last light of a fading sunset.

When the first droplet of lactate met Scythe’s lips, a couple minutes after he’d begun suckling on it, he relished in the tormented howl that fell from the sex slave’s throat. Sounds of words spoken with desperate calls of denial poured out just like milk did from his serviced flesh. It wasn’t long before the sounds of words became incoherent cries and gasps in broken measures. Whines in staccato echoed out to an uninterested forest, naught but startled animals there to respond to his pleas. Spurts of warm fluid continued to splatter into the reptilian canine’s maw for another minute until the nub’s storage ran dry.

Pursing his lips as he pulled back, the nightstalker, truly in his element now, made direct eye contact with the helpless mongkat. Each mark on his body was alluring and drew his attention to many sensual and erogenous locations on the bitch. The large centipedes advertised his main pair of nipples and the beast’s mind wondered how they might look directly in front of his view. For now though, Scythe once again traced his tongue along the double-winged beauty over a womb the aggressive, lust-filled animal knew he’d make his own soon. He kept his silver orbs locked on the slut’s until he saw the bitch look away, mewling as he did. And then he took the other nipple, pulsing just above the edge of the dragonfly’s wings, inside his jaws.

Sascha groaned with indignant fury, his cock splattering his face with a gout of precum as he felt a rapturous sensation run over his lower abdomen once again. Even the prickling wetness along his crotch had almost been too much, but now the quaternary nub on the other side was responding with a rebellious embrace. Within moments, hot milk began to radiate out of his flesh. Sprays and spurts splashed against the scaled dog’s tongue and gums, no longer shy about its donation. The mongkat cried out to the darkened sky, begging to be let go by any means necessary, yet shaking and seizing from pleasure no normal being could have dreamed of. Questions on how long he could even hope to hold onto his mind began to grow in the volume of his brain.

As the final dribbles of male lactate flowed down the nightstalker’s throat, all the mongkat slave could do was heave and pull against his wrist restraints. Frothing saliva ran down the corners of his lips as he coughed out what he could and spat it to the side. There was a sense of defeat in his body language and his scent gave off a mixture of lust and despair. Yet, resting against the metal rings adorning the sex slave’s taint, the hybrid’s balls surged against the thick hoop that gripped them and a proud and longing spire angrily throbbed in the air, precum streaming out of it in long oozes.

A brush of the serpentdog’s forked appendage against his length caused it to jump furiously. Its engorged size pressed up against the six hoops threaded through its sheath, and the thick steel, ribbed rod penetrating it was quite visible under the inflamed urethra. Scythe barely understood verbal language, only conceding to a dozen or so spoken commands, but his brain had been programmed to deeply understand sexual needs and the allure of lewd body art and accessories. And everything about the slut’s cock engaged his drive and lust.

While his lust tried to consume his actions, the beast knew his master would be severely displeased if he rutted him tonight. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t leave his mark all over him still. With their pet still taking ragged breaths on the ground, Scythe stepped back carefully. As he let his back legs off the ankle chain, he was very quick to secure it again with his front ones. There, just inches away, was the mongkat’s still drooling and glazed anus, but much drier than the nightstalker preferred. He hissed in protest as his own foot-long penis fussed underneath him, fully exposed and leaking from his furred sheath. His scaled ballsac was tight to his crotch, but heavy with seed. Even his clutch chamber felt so close to maturity.

Snarling with dominant lust, Scythe pressed his muzzle up against the dark fleshed hole. A few experimental sniffs and probing licks proved there was no remaining residue of fecal matter from the mongkat’s earlier relief. Assuming that his passage was slick enough that it all fell out, the beast pressed his lips against the slut’s asshole and then snaked his long, dextrous, forked tongue deep inside. The cry that greeted him and the rectal walls that weakly clutched at him told the beast all he needed to know. Additionally, the rattling of chains under his feet and beyond his sight put him in an absolutely delighted state as his ears picked up the rhythmic sounds of thick jizz spraying onto the mongkat’s chest and face.

“Fuck yooooou, aaahnnahaa, fu- fuuhuucck..nnnrrrrrrragglglr!”

Sascha could barely get the words out as intense, volcanic heat spasmed throughout his whole crotch. Cum rocketed out around the pole stuck in his pisshole as his prostate contracted vigorously inside his invaded passage. He felt his corded quads fighting hard against the hold the nightstalker maintained with his ankle chains, but they still only budged an inch at most. Cum rained down in streams and random puddles all over his torso and face, falling into his howling maw to cut off his curses. Plenty landed on his face as well, coating his eyes and ears in penile filth. His seizing soon came to an utterly ravished end.

Ragged, wet gasps flowed in and out of his freshly clogged throat, yet his arms were simply too tired to even wipe his face. The mongkat was a sight to behold if any were there to see him, but as his rectal muscles relaxed in sheer fatigue. The beast above him only continued to dive further inside his wildcat claimed guts. Words had left his vernacular after such a potent orgasm, but the relentless, slick drive of the nightstalker’s tongue along his anal passage, and particularly his prostate, kept his cock from softening even a tick.

With how sloppy the tissue was internally, it took Scythe little effort to snake his muscle up against the slut’s second backdoor. His gaze offered a scintillating and very close view of the four taint rings resting through the bitch’s flesh and it drove him even wilder. Weak, helpless whimpers and mewls made almost silent against the consistent night breeze fell out in random patterns, accentuated by a long moan. The snakedog’s forked tongue teased against the bitch’s colon sphincter, dancing around the tensed, yet rather soaked ring. For lingering moments it queried the hole for entry before breaking in and slithering almost a half foot into him.

No verbal description of such a deeply violating, yet insanely pleasurable sensation could have done what Sascha experienced a half-measure of justice. If he hadn’t just cum, the mongkat was certain he would have right there. His inner ring gripped around Scythe’s tongue, but the natural lubricants made it meaningless. The two forked ends played around in his large intestines, completely cleaned out close to a half hour ago now, simultaneously making Sascha intensely nauseous and aroused. Moans turned to shaken and stuttered out gasps. His thighs clenched inwards around the beast’s cheeks, but the ankle chain offered him almost no leverage to squeeze with.

Tears of both joy and misery pooled in his cum rinsed eyes, beginning to clear the emerald orbs while making the slits sting. Finally motivated enough to gently wipe away his own ball juice by the searing pain, Sascha blinked out what he could and gasped for an entirely different reason. It had grown dark enough now that no hint of disappearing sunlight remained, and though he couldn’t remember, he knew he’d never once seen a night sky as dazzling and stunning as he did now. For the small moments he could keep his focus on them, he swore hundreds, if not thousands of stars were watching his disturbing sexual encounter. The moon wasn’t visible to drown anything out, and he even saw the band of the Milky Way itself just starting to rise above the treeline if he craned his head back far enough. It almost made the scene beautiful in a supremely disgusting way.

References of the term insect and bug finally made the connection in Scythe’s more primitive brain, the scaled canine now recognizing it as their bitch’s new name. Though it held minimal meaning to him in an overall aspect, he now knew why given Insect’s array of bug tattoos. It wasn’t the first time he’d been introduced to a victimized target with ink, and he now understood the derogatory nature of such a nickname. It felt fun to him to know that his felidae companion was not only dominating their toy in action, but also with title. Insect certainly did have plenty of them permanently crawling on his body.

Driving his tongue ever deeper, finally reaching the full length he could insert at just a touch shy of two feet, the nightstalker chose to truly show the mongkat how much of a submissive bug he was. Soon that muscular appendage was thrashing about over a foot deep in Insect’s colon. Cries and hoarse howls began anew, but only Scythe’s highly tuned ears would have caught the sound underneath the wet squelching of the bugboy’s asshole as he moved in to begin very deeply French kissing the sex slave’s tailstar. This was actual heaven for the beast’s intentionally twisted mind, and he had no plans on breaking off until his own equipment refused to hold off any longer.

Scythe, like any other dog, produced saliva like one of the more humid days in Florida. It was a little stickier than a human’s and wasn’t too keen on bubbling up. Rather, it pooled into long strings that streamed into his passage, often spilling ever further down a victim’s guts, especially at such an angle of declination. The almost devilish looking caserpentine worked at the mongkat with complete carnal focus, working to build and plumb globs of it deep into his insides. It would take days to break the fluid down, and he had no plans on letting him dry out anytime soon. His master would greatly appreciate his pet keeping their fucktoy slick in the rear.

Sascha’s body was too tired to even do much more than the occasional twitch, his anus and rectum suffering from severe sensory overload. The swollen gland underneath his ringed taint ached from how the nightstalker pressed its tongue up against it over and again. Tingles were beginning to run through his strained legs as blood vessels struggled in vain to keep up with the rate at which his muscles were demanding oxygen. Meanwhile, his cock pulsed out oozes of fresh precum with eagerness, bobbing in the cooling air as it thrived on such a deep plumbing from behind. All the mongkat could do was look up at the night sky and pray to the divine for rescue.

Though the aggressive dog was in his element eating the slave’s ass out and filling it with his copious saliva, Scythe’s foot-long fucktool was running out of patience. It needed release and was legitimately threatening to dump its thick contents all over the box and ground, a voluminous load that would be wasted by such an act. Gathering up one more mawful of canine spit, he shoveled it down to join the thickened mess of the rest before exiting his muscled appendage and breaking off from the kiss. Insect gasped in a mix of relief and protest as the overwhelming joy stalled, but cursed in disgust as a large bubble of sloppy gas farted out from his winking hole, spitting the fluid along the underside of his tail and upper butt cheeks.

His vision went white as soon as he felt the serpenthound’s tongue wind around his cock like a vine. The forked tongue began to stroke over his glans and the mongkat felt his balls pull up against the taut ring that mercilessly weighed them down. Climactic spasms began to churn in his groin, his crotch tensing up while the snakedog gripped and massaged and stimulated his throbbing spire’s every nerve. Sascha choked out a wail before broken cries rang out to the sky as his second orgasm peaked, watery cum pulsing out onto his sweat and jizz dampened body like he was pissing himself.

The arcing jet held on for five full seconds that filled his muzzle with salty fluid and soaked his face down to the skin and laced his ears. His cries turned into sputtering coughs that he had to again turn his head to the side to avoid choking himself on. Three more wet throbs echoed out onto the grasshopper and dragonfly before his whole body went limp, naught but a few desperate spews of spunk from his mouth all he could muster before he felt his body go catatonic. He didn’t fall asleep instantly, fearing the next sensation he’d experience was the scaled canid’s cock sink into his depths, but instead his legs were pushed up off the box, finally falling on the ground with him.

He was rolled over with a few nudges from Scythe before the beast hoisted him up and gingerly carried him back to the porch. Splayed out on his chest, laying over top of the few stairs, he felt the weight and warmth of the animal crawl over him. He was sure this was where he’d be taken, but instead of that ridged staff entering him, it slid between and over his rump. The weight pressed it down in between his glutes, offering Scythe a wet passage to fuck against.

With as long as he’d held out, it took all of four pistons of his hips before thick ball batter gushed from the nightstalker’s cock. His chrome eyes narrowed into slits and throat rumbled in rapture, though he kept his gaze on the slave, watching as glossy ropes of white painted over the black ink of the huge earwig running along the bitch’s spinal column. The animal’s legs shook as relief fueled ecstasy ran through his lower body as it pumped out close to a pint of thick cream on him. Insect’s ears quivered when the alabaster fluid smacked into the back of them, several waterfalls of white cascading onto his skull. As his load waned, Scythe walked back a few steps to ensure his butt and legs got their own share, adding contrast to the hornets and silverfish designs as well.

By the time he strolled back after cleaning his own crotch and emptying his bladder, the nightstalker could tell the sex slave was fast asleep. That would at least take care of their night alone before Dreskel returned, but it was no position to sleep in. Hopping through the nearest window, the beast acquired the pillow and blanket and sheets from Insect’s bed and set them up on the porch. With a few soft pulls, he had the sex slave resting on the thick comforter with two blankets atop him to combat the cold and a pillow under his head. Though he was tired out as well, even in his sleep right next to him, he kept his ears on a swivel and nose on alert for any signs of danger. Scythe was not interested in losing his new plaything no matter what.