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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.