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Thom woke up slowly, groggily, his hand sliding to his face... or trying to. His arm didn't move, nor could his other arm or legs. Taking a quick assessment of his situation, he found himself horizontal, bound spread eagle on an X rack. An impressive piece, something he'd always wanted, but couldn't afford, not on a cop's salary, but wasn't that always the case? Cop was a strong word, he was a guild inspector, the internal police that guilds had, including the Triskelion Guild that he worked for.

He'd been investigating the disappearance of potentials, specifically girls. These were people who applied for a visitors pass for guild events. Many never moved beyond that level, but the guild kept a list to keep people from abusing the system. It'd taken more than two years before any body had noticed, after all, many applied, and many went back to their mundane life afterwards, so a few disappearing into thin area never drew much attention. Not at first at least, but in time it became his job to look into it, which led to hints of white slavery. The hints had led to a suspect, and that had led to... well, this. Guild inspectors were always at a disadvantage, small that a guild was, it meant that the few inspectors were noticeable, so you found yourself trying to sneak up on someone that would recognize you at a glance.

That's when she walked in, Mistress Chaney, a doberman of fine pedigree, but obviously of questionable morals. A slick smile stretched across her muzzle as she looked down at him, "Welcome home... Master Thom," letting the title drip from her lips with obvious contempt. "I suppose slave T is more fitting considering your future, wouldn't you say?" His silence clearly didn't bother her, it was to be expected, and she merely continued, "You know, you are a problem. Most of my acquisitions are unknowns, nobody special. Oh someone will likely report them missing, boyfriend, girlfriend, family member, but by that time they're long gone with nothing to lead back to me," her eyes narrowing as she looks at him, "at least for the regular disinterested police." Cupping his pussy and rubbing it, "Then there's you. Oh it'll be a week or two before the guild wonders why you haven't reported in, they're the least of my worries. Someone as noticeable as you i'd find a body double, and there'd be a tragic fire. No evidence, no problem. Until you, a bobcat would be hard enough to find, but then one that's a freak like you," suddenly crushing his pussy in her hand, pain rocketing through his body, "now what am I supposed to do about that?" Releasing his pussy, "Still, at least you'll be entertaining, after all, I haven't had the opportunity to break a dominant in far too long."

Shivering at the light hand on his pussy, he howled out as she crushed it, catching his clitoris as she did. With her release, his eyes narrowed as he looked her over, not liking where this was going. He was proud of being right, but that wasn't worth much when a couple of thugs knock you out, and you wind up facing the possibility of a lifetime of involuntary slavery. Tugging at his bonds, futile as it was, he knew he'd have to think something up, even the strongest minds break sooner or later. Most become useful obedient slaves, but as any torturer knows, some simply shatter, becoming a useless vegetable. Being a bobcat he was on the short side for a feline, not quite five feet, but given to a compact muscular build, even if it had starting softening. Watching her take a position by his head, he gulped, knowing what was coming. The X rack was a bit different than an X frame, the arms were shorter, and it had a torso support. It also had a long screw running through each arm, ending in a block of metal with a recess for a wrist or ankle, and in the deluxe version, four spots to screw cuffs down. While it couldn't draw and quarter a person, it could come close, and more than once the guild had had to deal with someone going to far and dislocating a sub's limbs.

She watched him as she turned the crank, his attention quickly returning to his situation. At first he tensed, naturally wanting to fight it, but as an experienced dominant, he knew better, and quickly relaxed. The frame would win, no question, the question was how painfully the victim wanted that to be, and Thom knew he needed to save his strength, and try not to be badly injured if he expected to have a fighting chance. The blocks moved away from his body, dragging his arms and legs with them, his arms going taut, and yet she didn't stop. Little by little all the slack was dragged from his limbs, and then his body, Mistress Chaney not stopping until he was afraid that she might actually test the frame's ability to draw and quarter him.

Satisfied that he was as tight as he could be without tearing anything, her hand moved away from the crank. Finding its way to his left arm, it slid down, caressing, feeling the tension in those muscles, wandering its way to his torso. Finding a nipple, her fingers clamped down, crushing it, drawing it away from his chest and twisting, her ears perking up and swiveling at the sound of his squeal. Smiling, she slid her hand lower, then suddenly raising it, bring it down for a hard open handed slap on his stomach, the blow magnified by how tight his body was. Her hands soon found their way to his pussy, pulling and tugging at his lips, before one attacked his clitoris, "Would you like to make this easier on yourself?" She laughed as her rhetorical question went without answer, "Good boy, I would have been disappointed if you had."

Stepping away, she moved to an array of cabinets just barely within his sight. Carefully selecting items, she set them on a small medical cart, then rolled it over. Proudly she began demonstrating the first item to him, "Lets start with a tit puller, or perhaps nipple stretcher, since it works for males as well as females, yet they have no tits. And pardon my explaining everything, after all, a dominant like yourself is undoubtedly familiar with most of my equipment, but its so rare that I get to demonstrate my collection to one that can appreciate it, all my other victims scream in terror, and where's the fun in that?"

He knew what a tit puller was, a threaded rod fitted into a base that narrows in the middle to fit between a girl's breasts, a crossbar rested atop a wing nut, with nipple clamps dangling from its ends. The wing nut would push the bar away from the victim's chest, pulling their nipple with it. Worse still was seeing the chains and clover clamps dangling from the bar, those clamps would tighten as the tension in the chains grew, guaranteeing a good grip, and allowing his nipples to be stretched to the extreme.

She chuckled at his yelp, she had let snapped the clamps on, instead of letting them slowly dig in, knowing it would hurt more. Turning the wing nut, she watched the chains tighten, and licked her lips as the bar moved, tightening the clamps, and stretching his nipples. Slowly they rose, soon pulling the flesh of his chest with them, his chest taking a cone shape as it was dragged up by the clamps, the pressure crushing his nipples, turning them white from the pressure.

A whine built in his throat, making him sound more like a canine than the feline he was. Tears leaked from the corners of his eyes as his nipples were crushed and nearly torn from his body. He gasped in relief when she was satisfied with how tightly stretched they were. Of course he knew his relief would be short lived as he watched her lift a crop from the cart. Her hand raised, and then he felt a burning sensation on his stomach. Then another, the pain was terrible, amplified by how taut his body was. He had always thought of a whip as a crude and inelegant method of punishment, now more than ever.

She watched his squirming, the pain in his body as the clamps threatened to tear his nipples from his body. Finally she was satisfied, and moved to the next device, a crop, perfect for inflicting pain with a minimum of effort, the first step to breaking him. Her strokes targeted his belly, but at times strayed to his thighs and pussy. While his fur hid most of her work, his pussy showed it well, quickly becoming red and irritated, his blood engorged pussy lips swelling. Looking at his face, she smiled as she saw his eyes were closed in pain. She took the next device in hand, hefting the metal device, a gently tapered metal dildo with a threaded rod attached at the end, and a far more pointed tip than normal. Like the tit puller, the rod supported a wing nut, crossbar and clamps, but its purpose was far more devious. Sliding it into his pussy, she guided it to the top of his tunnel, then slowly moving it around, feeling for his cervix, smiling triumphantly as she feel the tip catch for a moment. Guiding it back, she rested the tip there while attaching the clamps, smirking as he tried to move away as the clamps snapped down on his tender pussy lips.

Thom's eyes were clenched shut through the whipping, his breath coming in short pants as his body caught fire. As a dominant he'd never been on the receiving end, and no matter how tough you are, a whip will reduce you to tears, more so if it attacks something more tender, such as the inside of your thighs or your pussy. Panting, he was glad when she stopped, keeping his eyes closed as he tried to recover. Feeling something entering his pussy, his eyes snapped open, his mouth opening in a silent O that soon turned to a yelp as he felt the device prod the opening of his cervix. A full body howl escaped him as he felt the clamps bite into his tender inflamed pussy lips, but he had no idea of the pain to come.

Turning the wing nut, she watched his face, licking her lips knowing that he had no idea what was to come, nor the pain this device could inflict. Unlike the tit puller, the clamps wouldn't stretch his pussy lips... well, it probably would, but only as a side effect. Instead it would slowly and painfully force that shaft through his cervix, forcibly dilating it. The device went taught, stretching his lips before beginning its work. His scream was music to her ears, twitching as it echoed around the room. Continuing to turn the wing nut, she waited, the scream soon replaced with begging after a turn or three. A few more, and he was pleading. An experienced dominant, she knew he needn't be told what to do, nor would he do it willingly or convincingly, but that was alright, this was just the first step.

He heard her ask him, heard her say, "What was that slave?" He wanted to ignore it, tough it out, but it felt like his pussy was being torn out of his body, and despite himself, he found that he was begging for her to stop, pleading, asking her to stop. With that question, he couldn't stop himself, not that he meant what he was saying, he would have said anything to get her to stop. But like her, he knew that he was taking the first step down a slippery hill, acknowledging her superiority even if he didn't believe in it, just so long as the pain would stop, "Please Mistress, please stop."

Those words were music to her ears, and with another turn or three, she stopped, the device buried in him, chains pulled tight, the pain steady and throbbing now that it had stopped. Now it was time for step two, lifting a Marten E-collar from the table. A work of art, a dozen thin layers of aluminum were riveted together forming a collar that looked more threatening than if it had been formed from a single billet of aluminum. Fitting it around his neck, an extra long rived passed through the hole at the back, linking the two halves, and with the addition of a padlock, insuring that the collar would not be easily removed. Rings on the sides would give a place to secure his wrists, and a ring at the front would take a lead, allowing her to guide him to where she desired. One by one his wrists found their way to the collar, padlocks insuring that they would stay there. A good dominant knows never to release one arm at a time to insure that she wouldn't be over powered, and she did just that. Finally the leash went on his collar, and he was ordered to climb off of the frame.

Thom panted and gasped as she obliged, the pain was incredible, and he doubted much could feel worse other than perhaps cutting a piece off of him, or pulling his claws out. Too rung out to struggle, he could just watch as she pulled out a remote, retracting the table, taking the pressure out of his body. She had used the hand crank earlier just to watch his discomfort, a worrying thought since that meant things would likely get worse from here on out. The heavy duty collar went around his neck, then one by one his wrists were secured to it. Finally his ankles were freed and he was ordered off of the table. Now in a better position, his eyes took in the room, settling on the door, dread stopping his heart. The dungeon was a Billtâ„¢ dungeon, a creation of a guild member, these were impenetrable, at least without some serious tools. Resigned to his fate, at least until he got the fight back in him, he simply followed at the end of the leash. The wall that he stopped at didn't seem all that special, and on her orders he lay upon his back, feet against the wall. That was when he saw it, a large pot hung high on the wall, a hose running from it. He hoped that wasn't what he thought it was, but at this point, he was resigned to the fact that it was.

She smiled as he sized up the room, knowing that he would figure out that she had spared no expense, and that he could not simply force the door open, or in desperation bust through a wall. While not impenetrable, the room was very, very solid, Bill did a nice job. He followed her obedient to the wall, a lamb to slaughter, unknowing of what she had planned. A spreader bar went between his legs, the rings at the ends locked to his ankle cuffs, and the ring in the center being clipped to a winch. Smoothly he was dragged up, his back to the wall, legs wide spread, hanging two feet from the ground. Grabbing the inflatable butt plug at the end of the hose, she held it before his face, "Showing me how good a cock sucker you are slave."

Hanging as he was, he could not do much to resist the plug being offered to him. Besides, knowing where it was going, likely all the lube he'd get would be however much spit he applied. He new the inside of his ears turned beet red, one of the few places that his skin could be seen through his fur, mortified to be doing this, but he attacked the plug with gusto. Licking, sucking, slobbering on it, he made sure it was good and wet before she took it away. It soon nudged his tail hole, and then she simply shoved it in, not giving him a chance to relax, and drawing a holler from him.

Her pleasure showed on her face, every cry of his was music to her ears, another tiny piece of him torn away, another step towards his submission. Turning the valve, a green liquid flowed from the pot, a special mix guaranteed to clean him out. Looking down at him, she smiled, "That holds five gallons, and tomorrow morning we shall find out if you do. If you're as tough as you look, eight to ten hours like this should be a walk in the park for you," her hand sliding down to pat his already firm abdomen as his belly gurgled, the first sign of the liquid sinking deeper, his body slowly beginning to fill. Satisfied that he wouldn't be going anywhere, she turned and strolled off, her tail wagging happily at the challenge she faced. Sliding open the door, she closed it and locked it despite the fact that he wasn't likely to be trying to get out tonight.

Hanging there, he panted, his body breaking out in a sweat as that liquid seeped into him, little by little pushing the air out, breaking down what had filled him thus far. The cramps rolled over him, his eyes closed in pain, knowing that it would get worse, a night of this, and every muscle in his body would be screaming, and there was little chance he'd sleep tonight, not bound like this. He watched her leave, the sliding door confirming that this was one of Bill's dungeons, even if he were free, he would be hard pressed to leave without a key. Sighing, he took a deep breath, bracing himself as another wave of cramps washed over him, wondering what tomorrow would bring.