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It occurred to Nathan that he didn’t know where Boogie lived. The panther wasn’t forthcoming with the details and the monkey had his doubts he would be if asked. Something about visiting for hot kinky sex that involved lots of degradation, followed by being booted out of the tattoo parlor, didn’t leave many openings for pillowtalk.

He didn’t ask on the car ride either. Part of this was because of exhaustion. One does not entertain an entire club of kinky perverts and not feel a little tired at the end of it. But mostly it was because he knew asking would give him nothing. Boogie didn’t want to tell him about his life. Whether this was some deep-seated fear of appearing uninteresting, or a simple disinterest in sharing, Nathan couldn’t say. Except he knew it was the latter, he just wanted to believe in the former. After all, Boogie had proven he cared more about Nathan than he let on, just in a way that affected him more than Nathan’s wellbeing. Or to hurt Nathan because he enjoyed the monkey’s squealing. It was, in fairness, more attention than Nathan had received from his friends, his roommates, his boss, his step-siblings, or even his father. The people in his life he’d tried so desperately to impress, only for them to not bother paying him any attention. College, in a way, was him trying to be someone else by doing the same thing. Meeting Boogie changed that. Because there was no putting on a front with the panther. Everything Boogie had done was what Nathan wanted, even before he knew it. He had no regrets.

Maybe Nathan was crazy. The thought didn’t bother him as much as he thought. Maybe that little crazy was what turned people away from him. He just needed to find someone who matched his freak, even if doing so drastically changed his life. Tattoo removal may exist, but there was no going back for Nathan. Not in his heart, anyway.

“Get out,” Boogie’s command was hard but lacking its usual weight. It sounded tired and angry, annoyed even. Nathan shot up at the command and unlatched the door, not realizing they’d already stopped until opening it. The pavement was familiar to him. He turned and learned why, seeing the tattoo parlor before him. Maybe it was the street lights around them, but he hadn’t noticed that it was the bottom of a three-story building until now. Reflexively he wondered who lived there, and if they could see him naked from the ankles up on the sidewalk. But there were no lights on, no indication that anyone save for Boogie used the building.

Boogie grabbed him by the arm, “Come on,” he growled, leading the monkey back inside the tattoo parlor. Confused, Nathan opened his mouth to ask if Boogie lived under his own counter or something, but a swift glare from the panther told the monkey now was not the time for his attitude. Just as well, Nathan would know soon enough.

The bell of the front door rang overhead. Boogie didn’t turn the lights on, having memorized where he needed to go from experience. It meant Nathan bumped into a few things, but the monkey didn’t complain, especially not when passing the hanging beads to the panther’s personal playroom. Only they didn’t stop in the playroom. There, with a weighted grunt from the panther, revealed what seemed to be a freight elevator once Nathan was pulled inside.

“What’s this doing here?” Nathan asked out of turn.

“Old building,” Boogie explained, sounding remarkably not terrifying for the first time in a while. “Bootleggers used it for the tunnels underneath.”

“Oh?” Nathan’s ears perked, “You’ve got a secret dungeon down there?”

Boogie rolled his eyes in the light of a single hanging lightbulb. “The tunnels below are abandoned. I just use this to bring things that are too heavy upstairs.”

Having never been in a freight elevator, Nathan didn’t notice any sign of how many floors there were. From the outside there were three, and the amount of time it took seemed to imply they were skipping one. One of Boogie’s neighbors? No, that couldn’t be it, not unless Boogie let people walk through his fuck room in the tattoo parlor. He grinned at the thought, figuring that his master would give any people passing through a session a glare of dominance.

They stopped at the top floor. By now Nathan realized this was going to be where Boogie lived, and had prepared himself for walls of art or decorations showcasing the panther’s talents. What he got instead was the pristine look of a display room that was lived in. Walls devoid of personality via a harvest brown neutral color, floors that had a fake wood paneling everywhere but the kitchen which were tiled, an island with a white marble countertop to match the rest of the kitchen. The only thing that seemed out of place was the large wall mounted TV and the futon that’d fit more in a poor college kid’s dorm than his master’s living room. The phrase, “Bitch, you live like this?” came to mind but never slipped past his lips when he looked back at Boogie.

“Shower’s down the hall,” Boogie pointed to the hallway in question, “Hold up.” He crouched down, taking a moment to unlock Nathan’s cage before letting him go. “Take as much time as you need. You can use one of the bathrobes.”

“Um…ok,” Nathan said, utterly shocked at the panther’s tone. There was no hint of contempt or sadism, nor any hint of joy. Not even reluctance. It was perfectly neutral, like addressing a visiting friend the hundredth time. He grinned back, “Care to join me, Master?”

“It’s a small shower,” Boogie stated, ignoring Nathan’s last word. “Try not to take too long, hot water is a bitch.”

“Right…right,” Nathan said, his tail curling with disappointment as he headed to the bathroom. It, like the rest of the condo, was rather uniform with pristine white countertops and stainless-steel guardrails for the glass door shower. It was certainly too small for two people, especially if one was Boogie’s size, to fit in comfortably. Didn’t mean they couldn’t do it, with Nathan on his hands and knees servicing his master’s cock and cleaning himself from the run off above him. Boogie would have enjoyed that. Wouldn’t he?

Yet Boogie never visited him in the shower. It gave him time to think as the shampoo and conditioner washed through his fur. Time he spent wondering what exactly Boogie was planning. He hyped himself up, thinking that this all had to be some ploy, some trick to get Nathan into a false sense of security so the eventual fall would be all the more deliciously painful. But as he got out of his shower he found nothing but a soft bathrobe waiting for him.

“You can take the bedroom,” Boogie said from the living room, already lounging on the futon. His black body melded with the darkness, leaving the monkey with nothing but his imagination on what the panther could do. “Good night,” Boogie said, ignoring Nathan.

The bedroom was nothing special. It was rather spartan. Boogie had no personal items, just a kingsized bed with tan sheets in the middle of the room. Nathan checked the closet for something. He found clothes, but no hint of kink. Was this even Boogie’s place? It had to be, he worked in the tattoo parlor down below.

He watched the door form under the covers. Boogie must be waiting for him to fall asleep. He’d burst through the door then, rock hard, and take him in his bed. Nathan tried to sleep, even leaving his ass out over the covers for ease of access, but as he drifted a horrible thought came to mind.

“What if this is it?”

That morning he woke to the smell of bacon and the sound of sizzling grease. He crawled out of bed, realized he’d been unmolested, and felt an indignant rage at that. Bathrobe on, he trudged out of the bedroom to give his host a piece of his mind. Boogie, who wore a pink apron over his clothes, greeted him as casually as one did any guest. “Hungry?” He asked, chopping the scrambled eggs with a spatula, “I’m making breakfast burritos.”

“What the fuck?” Nathan said, not knowing where to start.

“It’s just a soft-shell taco with breakfast food. Nothing special.”

“No! I…” he grit his teeth, “I meant, what the fuck was last night?”

“The club can get rowdy.”

“I like rowdy. This wasn’t that.” Nathan pointed all around the condo, “Why did you bring me here? Why did you take to the futon when you have a bed? Why didn’t you join me in bed? I let my goddamn ass out for you.”

Boogie didn’t stop cooking to keep the burrito from burning, but the tone had shifted. He let go of a heavy breath. “You called me Master last night. Twice. I don’t think you understand what that means.”

“I know the definition.”

“Knowing and understanding are very different things. I know Einstein’s famous theorem, but I don't understand it. I know I have an electric bill each month but don’t understand how they price the costs. You know what a master is, but you don’t understand me. You think you do.”

He rolled out the burrito over a plate. It sat there across the counter, his fingers on the rim while he stared off into space, debating what to say next. “I didn’t know what to do last night when you called me that. I drove us around while trying to think of something, only to bring us home. Well, ‘home’ in the sense that I mark this as my address. I don’t really live in this condo. I eat here, sleep here, shit here, but it’s not where I live. I live in the shop, amongst my art. You didn’t know that. You assumed I had a life outside of my work. I assure you, I do not. The reason I brought you up here, the reason I let you take a shower in my home, is because I wanted you to know what you’d be giving up if you accepted me as your master. I even considered having regular sex with you last night. Boring doggystyle up your ass. But I don’t do regular sex, especially not to make you think that there’s some special part of me you’re getting if you become mine.”

His large frame towered over Nathan from across the island like a shadow stretching from the afternoon sun. “You get none of this as my slave. No warmth save for the sting of my hand. You don’t get to walk away either. I will seal the contract underneath your skin with my pen. Your name will be whatever I call you. Your purpose is whatever I decide. You’d no longer be a person, but a thing. An it. So tell me, Nathan,” he said the monkey’s name with contempt, “Do you want me to be your master? Or do you want to take the sane option and crawl back to whatever pathetic mundane life you had before? Doing whatever it is you do between moments where I need my canvas?”

Those eyes told Nathan there was no hyperbole at play. Boogie was, and always had been, serious with his promises. He took the moment to consider it, ignoring the ceramic scraping of the plate sliding over marble towards him. He’d lose nothing saying no. Taking back his request wouldn’t change that he was Nathan’s canvas. He’d crawl to the panther when called, dropping everything for a new design or piercing. But then he could return, walking back into his normal life with a new marker and the anticipation for what came next. But he didn’t want to go back. Whenever he returned from the shop Nathan couldn’t help but feel an emptiness inside of him. Outside he was just Nathan, a nobody who served no purpose except for the vague expectations of those around him. A shadow who failed to impress those in the light. With Boogie, he had a purpose. A belonging that brought more pleasure through its pain. Nathan knew who he was in the presence of the panther. He would not trade that stability for anything else.

“I’m certain,” Nathan said with more conviction than he’d ever had his entire life. Boogie’s face became cold. He circled around the island like a shark, stopping behind the monkey. Two heavy paws slowly wrapped around his face.

“I could do whatever I want,” Boogie said with a low whisper. A single claw hovered over each of the monkey’s eyes. “I could blind you here and now. Are you sure?”

“You won’t,” Nathan said, certain of it.

Boogie seemed annoyed by this but didn’t set out to prove him wrong. “And why is that?”

“Then I couldn’t appreciate your work.”

“And what do I care about your opinion? You’re nothing but a canvas.”

Nathan smiled, “Because you do. You’re an open book, master.”

Against anyone else with a short temper, Nathan would have lost his eyes. The monkey would scrounge through the rest of his life with horrific scars as a burden for his hubris. But with Boogie, the panther, he was safe. For lack of a better term. He did not laugh but made a noise close to it. A sound of pride, or maybe enjoyment in the monkey’s attitude.

“Take the bathrobe off.” Nathan stripped it off without hesitation. Boogie asked for his phone, but Nathan didn’t have it on him. When asked where it was, Nathan revealed he left it back at his dorm. “Good. We needed to go there anyway. On your knees.”

Nathan braced the fake wood paneling on both knees with excitement. He expected Boogie to draw out his cock, but the panther simply laid out a feral food bowl with the burrito in it. “Dig in. We’ve got work to do today.” He smacked Nathan’s hand aside with his boot, “No. Eat it properly.”

The monkey’s tail curled. Nathan bowed his head into the burrito. Their talk had let it cool. Boogie’s foot pushed his snout further into it, smooshing the meal into a paste against his face. “From now on, you eat like this. Your hands are only useful in service to me. Whatever I put in this bowl is your meal. No complaints, no backtalk. Is that clear?”

“Y-Yes, master,” Nathan said under a face full of boot and egg.

“Good,” Boogie said. He didn’t smile. He didn’t need to smile when expectations were met. “Now hurry up. I’ve got a slate to clean.”

***

Trepidation did the tango under Nathan’s fur as Boogie drove him back to campus. His master had provided him clothes, but it amounted to a jockstrap, boots, and a top that called more attention to his piercings and tattoos. His cock strained in his cage, likely forever now as Boogie seemed intent on leaving it in there outside of hygiene or a more permanent piercing solution. In the end that didn’t matter to Nathan, so long as Boogie was pleased. The concerns and anxieties he felt were simply the last dregs of his personhood clinging to him. Like the last bit of snot that refused to be flicked off a fingernail.

Boogie kept Nathan close with a leash when they walked along the campus. It attracted attention but no one dared to approach, not even campus security who took one look at Boogie and had a clear understanding that there wouldn’t be trouble. Nathan, casting off the vestiges of shame, held his chest out proud as he led his master to his dorm.

It wasn’t until they reached his dorm room that they heard a reaction. Jacob, Nathan’s roommate, was one of the many people he’d tried to impress through his initial antics. The bull was popular amongst the men and the ladies, knew all the best spots, and, either by sheer luck or pity, had agreed to be Nathan’s roommate for years now. Nathan had hoped this would mean the bull would bring him along on some wild escapades, but he just seemed to ignore the monkey or, more often, ask him to bail him out for cash for bigger events. He was the reason Nathan lost his allowance, needing to get a part time gig to get any money for himself outside of academia.

The bull looked on with alarm when Nathan stepped inside, leash taut by Boogie behind him. He’d just gotten out of the shower, towel wrapped around his waist to hide his girth. Jacob was big in multiple ways, bigger than Boogie Nathan realized, but his expression of shock and confusion made the bull look so small. “What the fuck?”

“You my canvas’s roommate?” Boogie asked.

Jacob nodded. Fear and awe clutched his face when he realized who was speaking. “You’re…no way. His tats are your work?”

Nathan knew his master well enough to know when he was insulted. Boogie knew restraint though, sharing a subtle curl of his lip at the insinuation that someone could pull off a believable forgery of his art. “Of course, they are. What reason was there to doubt?”

The bull pointed to Nathan, who had been freed to peruse through the dorm room with a trash bag he kept stuffing with his stuff. “No offense, sir, but Nathan’s a loud mouth. He’s said a lot of stuff to get attention. In freshman year he went on and on about his body count when the dude was just a virgin. He…what’s he doing?”

“Packing up,” Boogie explained, shutting the door behind them so as not to gather too much attention. “He’s dropping out. As my canvas he doesn’t need to waste his time here.”

“Drop out?” The term had been hammered into every college kid growing up as something you didn’t do. Only losers, only failures, drop out of college. A small smidge of concern washed over the bull’s face. “I don’t…Nathan, you cool with this?”

Boogie stepped in before Nathan could speak his approval. “His opinion doesn’t matter on the subject anymore. He’s demanded I be his master, and this is the requirement. The only reason I don’t have him gagged is because I don’t want too many people trying to interrupt his cleansing. Now, my bitch has told me that the two of you have had some personal moments together.”

“I mean…yeah, we’ve fucked. We haven’t dated or anything,” Jacob said, seeming unbothered that he was the one who broke Nathan’s gay cherry. “Look, I’m worried for him but this isn’t like a breakup or anything.”

“Of course not. But it is a farewell.” At Boogie’s snap Nathan was beside him, on his knees. “And for your service in…indirectly leading him to me, I’m willing to offer you one last go at him before leaving. Oral only.”

Jacob’s jaw dropped. So much had hit him in the past few minutes. Nathan couldn’t blame him for the utter confusion, but he did notice the wheels turning behind the bull’s eyes when he glanced down at the monkey. The constant pull between what he wanted, what was right, and what was sane. Nathan licked his lips and smiled.

He later dropped his college resignation with semen in his headfur.

They stopped by a hardware store for a squirt bottle of kerosene, then went to the nearest dumping ground. There Boogie had him coat the bag of all his belongings and handed him a match book. “Burn it all,” he ordered. Nathan didn’t hesitate. He expected to, figuring that chains of regret would give him some resistance in setting everything alight. But it was easy. One scratch set the wax ablaze, followed by the bag as he tossed the match into it. They stayed to watch it all burn long enough to be sure nothing could be salvaged. It was still burning when they left, but Nathan only noticed with a cursory glance at the rearview mirror.

What meager clothes he had were stripped of him back at his new home. In their place were restraints made to hinder but not nullify him. Ankle chains that forced him to walk and wrist bindings that kept his hands forward but had enough length to let him clean or reach for things. From now on any attire he was permitted in his master’s home was to be restrictive, and Boogie spoke of finding more permanent versions of these restraints in the future. Nathan shuddered at the idea, not for the theoretical mutilation but the idea that his master would go as far as to hinder his canvas just to bind it better. He said as much, and earned a slap for it. It didn’t hurt, more just a reminder that Boogie wasn’t to be questioned. The panther’s smile told Nathan he should never stop.

The only remnant of Nathan’s belongings was his smartphone. An important piece if one didn’t consider why Boogie demanded to have it. Once Nathan shared his passcode, Boogie grabbed a metal cockring and a hook on a short leather strap. He stripped his pants off, situating himself on the couch where his fat cock rose at half-mast. From there with lube he slipped the cage on, and, with the hook looped through Nathan’s nose ring, forced the monkey’s face into his sack.

“Be useful while I make some texts,” Boogie demanded. Nathan was already lathering his tongue over the panther’s hefty sack when told so, eager to serve his newfound purpose in life. The panther lounged into the futon couch, browsing through Nathan’s contacts and typing away to end the once meaningless life of the twink. His boss, his friendships, his relationships, and his family, were all sent texts that he was leaving for a better life under the panther’s control. More than once Boogie sent compromising pictures of his slave’s current position through a text message, all to better hammer home Nathan’s new place. Most were shocked. A few, Boogie didn’t say who, seemed intrigued or not surprised.

“Didn’t know you were a rich bitch,” Boogie said, admiring the ball washer chained to his taint. “Black sheep though. Still, can’t believe you tried getting a discount tattoo when you could damn well afford it if you begged dear-old-dad for more spending money. If you weren’t cut off then, you certainly are now. But money doesn’t matter for you anymore. You gave that up with your personhood, isn’t that right?”

“Yes, master,” Nathan said, taking the moment to breathe in the panther’s musk. Money, responsibilities, and whatever privileges of being Nathan were lost to him now. He felt freer in bondage, the weights of his chains bringing more warmth than the heavy expectations that came from his family name.

Boogie smiled. It was a genuine one, something he kept in reserve. “I was going to destroy your phone, and I will, but I’ll keep it to copy some contacts. A few people seem invested in your progress and, frankly, I’m too intrigued to let go. But what’s done is done, and I’m in the mood to celebrate.”

Unlatching his nose chain, Boogie wrenched Nathan up to his feet and marched him forward. The monkey’s head was forced to look at his feet, like a prisoner being escorted in a max security prison. He welcomed it, unable to stop smiling as they entered the freight elevator.

The second-floor windows were so darkly tinted that he was certain no one from the outside could see the bars. The floors were made of cold cement, as though unfinished from construction. All the furniture laid about the room was black with leather padding, none of which looked like they were made for comfort in mind.

“I can count on two hands how many people have been in this room. Less than half visited twice,” Boogie whispered, pushing Nathan inside. He latched his wrist cuffs to a hook up above, high enough to force the monkey to balance on his toes. A thick, jawbreaking, ballgag was forced past his teeth, its leather straps wrapped tight around his head. “I used to bring discounters up here, but they were scared. So, I made that little fuck room in the shop. This though, this is your room now. If you’re not busy with what I tell you to do or at my side, I expect you to be in here. Here you’ll eat, sleep, and shit.” He directed Nathan’s head to a door in the corner, likely where he was going to find something to sleep on. The opposite corner, and one perpendicular to that, had cameras. “There’s one in your cell too. So don’t worry, I’ll know if you’re in danger.”

No privacy. No autonomy. Only purpose. Either as a canvas, or his master’s paindoll. It dawned on him how far he’d let this go when Boogie started latching tiny weights to his sensitive bits. There was no going back. He’d burned every bridge, going as far to hand Boogie the torch if needed.

The heavy weight of a leather sap clapped his thick cheeks. The impact shook him, followed by the hot but dull pain rippling from the zone. His movements shook the weights on his piercings, pulling and tugging as if gravity wrapped its fingers around him. The first strike came from the right, and the left followed after a slight pause, knocking him that direction. The bindings turned him into a pendulum. A fleshy, bound, and grunting pendulum for his master’s onslaught.

Boogie never cared for whips. He could use them if he wanted, nothing would stop him, but he found them too damaging. Even a master with the tool might make the wrong mark. But the thuddy tools? The saps, the paddles, and even his own hand? Boogie loved those. Bruises healed faster. They brought more color across the body, like a collage of purple and blue. A work of art that would vanish over time unless Boogie kept up the beatings.

Fortunately, Boogie wasn’t just a sadist. He was an artist outside of pain. After layering his canvas with strikes, from his fat ass, his perky pecs, his thighs, his arms, his back, but never the face, he stepped away to admire the work. With a grin that meant more to Nathan than Boogie could know, he held the monkey by his chin and spat in his face.

“You are a freak,” Boogie said. His tone sang praises while his comments degraded him. “Any normal person would be begging to be free. They’d realize how fucked they are. But you, I mean, look at you.” He dropped the sap in favor of tightly squeezing Nathan’s sack. The gagged gasp was utter music. “You’re making a fucking puddle on my floor and it ain’t piss. I could take credit for this. Claim that everything you feel right now is because I hardwired it into you. But that’d be a lie, and I’m not a liar. All I did was fuck you and give you discounted, fuck, even free tattoos. No, this masochistic freaky shit you got going on, that’s all you. Always has been, and it’s no wonder everyone found you annoying. You wanted to be loved, appreciated, but you can’t help but encourage people to hurt you.”

He let go of Nathan’s sack only to slap him with the precum drenched hand. The monkey flinched out of reflex rather than fear, wanting to embrace the sharp spike of pain like it was a warm palm across his skin. Boogie watched with mock disgust, taking the moment to hold both the nipple weights in his palm, clench them, and pull. Steadily, slowly, until Nathan swore the Panther intended to rip the piercings off. He wouldn’t though, not like this. Nathan knew his master wouldn’t do that kind of irreparable damage. Not when there was space for ink.

And sure enough, he was right. Boogie did let go. “You’re not the first pain junkie to walk into my studio. Not the first person to think they were special because they loved to be hurt, and that I was their golden goose. See, I’ve seen your type too often. I should hate your guts, and a small part of me kind of does. But you know just what to say. Just how to twist my buttons. You’re smart, too smart for a pain junkie. If you actually used that you’d probably get somewhere great. But we can only lament your potential as anything other than my canvas.”

Nathan had, for good reason, his focus on his master’s eyes. The eyes that burned with a cold fire. Eyes that discovered a newfound feeling and didn’t know how to process it yet. But then he looked downward, to see his master’s naked form in all its glory. Like a moth to a flame, his focus fell on the panther’s cock. It looked bigger, as if truly erect for the first time since meeting them with.

Boogie noticed this and slapped him for it. Or maybe he just felt like slapping him. It didn’t matter, Nathan thanked him behind the gag anyway. Just as he thanked him when Boogie pressed his cockhead against that waiting backdoor. He plunged deep and hard, taking everything that was his and accepting no less. Nathan’s teeth bore into his gag. His legs gave out, held up by his bindings and his master’s hold.

The next orgasm was the best he had in his entire life. It wasn’t even his.

***

Nathan woke up aching all over. Attempts to soothe it made him aware that he was bound. Specifically, to some sort of medical stretcher. He blinked, adjusting to the light or lack thereof. Each of his limbs were locked in place. His cage was still locked, leaving him somewhat relieved that he hadn’t just dreamed Boogie and woke up in an asylum. Though that would explain the pinch in his arm.

He screamed for Boogie. The panther arrived after a few minutes, unlatching the door to reveal the monkey was locked in the tiny room beside the second-floor dungeon. Boogie, dressed in his artist apron for downstairs work, looked rightfully annoyed that Boogie made so much noise. “Just because I didn’t gag you doesn’t mean you can make noise. I got a client down below.”

“Sorry, Master,” Nathan said, relieved with a smile. “I was just confused why I woke up like this.” He eyed his arm, noticing an IV coming into it. “Shit, you’re not harvesting my organs, are you?”

“If I were, you would not be alive,” Boogie stated, “No, this is to keep you hydrated. You passed out after I fucked you. I made sure you were ok, but I also had a client come in and needed to get work done. After all, my bills just increased by half overnight.”

“Don’t you mean double?”

“I’m being more generous than you deserve,” Boogie said, “Now, are you going to be quiet for my client, or do I gotta gag you?”

“Like you gotta ask,” Nathan said, opening his mouth for a gag. “So, when do I get a collar?”

Boogie, for his part, said nothing as he gagged Nathan. It wasn’t until the thick ballgag was secure that the panther pinched around Nathan’s neck. “Hmm…I think we can do something else.” He pulled at the monkey’s loose flesh, eyes locked in thought of what could be there.

Nathan would take it. As any Canvas would.