The Good

Epilogue - My Name Is Jenna

S.M. Wolf

---

Story © 2006, 2009 by S.M. Wolf. Based on situations created by Kittiara. All rights reserved by the author. Master Coshocton, Jenna, and Cynthia © S.M. Wolf. Reproduction and distribution of this work by any means without the expressed written permission of the author, or hotlinking from another website without the expressed written permission of SM Wolf is expressly forbidden. Similarity to any person, living or dead, is coincidental.

---

The tigress turned on the recorder and chronicled the first entry in her journal.

My name is Jenna. I am the companion-sex slave of Master Coshocton. At his direction I am writing this journal. He will give it to my family so that they may know how I fare at his paws.

Mother and Father, what I am about to write will no doubt shock and dismay you. I will speak openly and frankly about my sexual relationship with my Master in the hopes that you can understand my feelings towards him. Before you condemn either him or me, please try to remember your own youth and the sex games you no doubt played when you were young. What we do are sex games between two young furs taken to a higher level by my position as his slave and my involuntary schooling in The Training Academy.

What I am going to tell you about happened last Friday.

Master Coshocton had instructed me to be waiting for him in the foyer when he arrived home at 6 PM. I knelt on a thin pad with my knees spread as wide as possible to display my sex to him. As I had been taught through hours of sometimes painful instruction, my head was bowed and my paws placed palms up on my thighs. It is an unnatural position that requires considerable concentration to remain in without fidgeting or movement. Under the lash of The Training Academy teachers we had all learned the discipline required quickly or been sent to an even worse fate as rejects.

Master Coshocton arrived home promptly at six. I knew something was going to happen that night when he snapped a lead on my collar and took me back to my kennel. My kennel is not the far too small cage of The Training Academy. Instead it is a full room with a bed, a variety of pads and mats, and, yes, places to secure me when I displease my Master or he chooses to use me in bondage play for his pleasure. It was to the full bath that he took me this time. He had me bathe while he watched. He did not allow me to speak, to ask him questions, but from the glint in his eyes and the smile on his muzzle I knew that something special awaited us that night.

After I was done bathing, Master Coshocton dried me. It was, in part, out of kindness and honest affection, but he also enjoys every opportunity possible to run his paws over my body, especially my most private parts. I do not object. His paws are gentle and excite me. He handed me a fur brush with a grin. Last night I had dropped a plate and broken it. I had been laid over his lap, and he had spanked me using this same brush. He had not actually hurt me as much as excited me. I wondered if a similar fate awaited me this night.

We went back into the main area of my kennel. From an armoire he brought out four cuffs that he placed on my wrists and ankles. They were made of supple leather and lined with fleece for comfort. He secured the buckles with small locks so only he could remove them from my body.

Next my Master removed my collar. For a brief instant my neck was free of its normal encumbrance. It felt strange not to have something lightly constricting around my neck. He immediately replaced it with a much heavier collar. On a smaller feline it would likely serve as a punishment collar, but on me it was not unpleasant. From the front D-ring two very short lengths of chain hung. He used three more small locks to secure my wrist cuffs to the chains and to each other. I was now forced to hold my arms in front of me with my paws coming together palm-to-palm just below my muzzle.

Master Coshocton brought out a foot and a half long length of chain and locked it onto my ankle cuffs. The chain hobbled me and forced me to take many short steps instead of my normal long strides.

He snapped a six foot long lead to my collar. The lead was two inches wide and made of heavy leather. The end was split into three tails and could be used to flog an unruly slave.

Master Coshocton had me open my mouth wide. Into it he slid a three inch diameter ball gag. A ball gag silences the cries of the slave. It also forces us to salivate uncontrollably unless we have been taught how to control ourselves. Even then we sometime lose control. My Master does not like the sight of drool dripping from my muzzle onto my bosom, so I immediately started to use all the tricks pounded into me at The Training Academy to control myself.

Finally he took out a simple hooded black cloak. He draped the garment about me and secured the clasp. The lower hem fell only to the middle of my thighs, but the front closed to hide my nudity. He pulled the hood over my head as far as possible. My face was hidden in shadow, and my view was somewhat restricted.

Master Coshocton took me back to the foyer and left me standing beside the door with strict orders to remain motionless and to make no sound. Both were easily done after months of instruction at The Training Academy where a small sound or a shift in posture could result in hours at the Punishment Wall. I knew I would face no severe punishment if I failed, but I honestly did not want to displease my Master. I remained silent ad still as I awaited his return.

My Master went to his bedroom and changed. It took him some time which surprised me. I was even more surprised when he returned dressed as a high class gentlemen of Victorian England. He even had the top hat and gilded walking stick.

My surprise may have been evident to him, but he ignored it as a Master may ignore anything about a slave. In this case, though, I do not think he was being cruel or unfeeling. Rather, he wanted to heighten the suspense and drama of the evening. His attire certain sent many wild guesses about what was to come that night through my head.

He took my lead, and we exited the townhouse. A taxi was already waiting for us. He opened the door and pointed inside. As any true Master would do, he offered me no help. I managed to get in without too much difficulty. My natural feline agility comes in handy at times like this. He joined me on the other side. As soon as his door was closed we were off. The driver must have known where we were heading and likely what was to happen. I caught him watching us in the mirror several times.

The ride was not too long and largely uneventful. I sat with my legs widely open. My Master took advantage of this to run his paw over my pussy lips. I think he enjoyed watching my emotions play over my eyes and muzzle. He leaned on my body and looked up at me with his big brown eyes as he rubbed me.

Master Coshocton left me excited but nowhere near an orgasm by the time we reached our destination. The taxi pulled onto an estate. In the middle was a castle right out of Renaissance England. Uniformed footmen opened our doors. Master Coshocton got out and pulled on my lead. I struggled to get out of the taxi, but no one helped me. That was befitting since I am a mere slave.

After I got out we went into the entryway. A large water buffalo greeted us like a maitre de at a restaurant. He told my Master that the room was ready for us. He clapped his paws, and a lithe female gazelle appeared. She wore a collar every bit as heavy as mine and nothing else. She moved with the style and grace only taught in The Training Academy and its cousins where failure meant repeated beatings until the slave learns. I recognized her from my class.

Cynthia and I exchanged glances while our Masters talked. I hoped she was doing well. I saw no obvious injuries, but a good Master could devastate a slave during punishment and leave not a single visible sign.

She led us through the castle halls. The rooms were filled with well dressed gentlefurs and naked slaves of both sexes. Some of the slaves were performing for the clients. By performing I do not mean as an actor or circus performer. Rather they coupled openly and wantonly before the assembled furs, often with their very vocal encouragement for harder, faster and ever more extreme sex acts. Some were couples of opposite sex, and some were couples of the same sex.

In one ballroom I saw three Doberman males mounting a single Afghan female at once - one in her mouth, one in her tail hole and one in her cunt. I knew the look of pain, desperation and fear in her eyes. I had been through similar forced couplings myself during training. Here the gentlefurs enjoyed the spectacle of the three roughly servicing her in the middle of the room for their pleasure and placed bets on how long the males would last. Another Afghan bitch lay tightly bound and gagged on the floor beside the first, watching the five canines beside her. She would obviously be next. Even from the hallway I could see the look of fear and desperation in her eyes.

Cynthia led us past the rich rooms. We went down a narrow stone stairway at the back of the castle and into the basement dungeon. The stone corridors were dark, damp and cold. The only illumination was real torches burning every twenty feet or so. The shadows were deep between the sconces.

The only sound I could hear were the click of Cynthia's hooves and Master Coshocton's heels on the hard stone floor. There were several doors along the hallway that we passed. I could smell a mixture of arousal, fear and sex coming from behind them. I had little doubt of what occurred in this dungeon.

Cynthia stopped in front of a heavy wooden door near the end of the corridor and knelt. I could smell her fear and was afraid myself for a moment. My Master asked her if she came with the room. She replied yes. He turned her head up to look at him and asked if she were sent back what would happen. She told him that she would be beaten for failing to please him and then sent to another room to pleasure some furs. He looked around and found a length of chain hanging from a ring with a clip at the end beside the door. He attached the chain to her collar and told her to stay there and be quiet. I could just hear him tell her she could rest and sleep if she wished. She would not be used that night by him.

Master Coshocton opened the heavy door. A thrill of terror and sexual anticipation went through my body.

Inside was a torture chamber. The Training Academy has many similar rooms. They can be used either for pleasure or punishment. I had experienced both many times during my instruction there.

At first I was concerned that my Master had brought me here for an extended punishment session far from the prying eyes and ears of our neighbors and friends. This place obviously catered to those who treat the cry of a bound and beaten femfur with relish rather than revulsion. However they would never hear even the slightest of sounds behind these thick walls. My Master could do with me as he pleased with impunity. Likely unconscious or badly injured slaves being taken to ambulances in the morning was a common occurrence here.

My imagination ran wild for a few fleeting moments, but common sense soon prevailed. My Master had never caused me serious pain even when our customs and commonly accepted slave discipline practices would say he should. I doubted he had brought me here to listen to me scream in agony and see me writhe in anguish. I had also come to trust him more and more with our time together and thought I knew what he was likely to do this evening.

I waited just outside the doorway for his orders.

He took me into the torture chamber and left me standing beside a rack. This is an ancient machine designed to cause immense pain by stretching a fur until their arms and legs popped out of their sockets. Taken to the extreme it could even rip limbs from a poor fur's body. The feet are placed in manacles attached to short chains secured to the foot of a heavy wooden table. The wrists are also manacled to chains, but these chains are attached to a winch. As the winch is turned the slack in the chains is taken up until they start to pull on the captive fur. There is a ratchet on the winch, and every slave that has ever gone through this punishment has learned to count the clicks as the winch is tightened and pray that the number is low.

The torture does not end once the Master or instructor stops tightening the chains. Indeed, their torment has barely begun. The victim is left stretched out on the rack - hopefully for minutes, often for hours, sometimes for days on end. Cynthia who waited outside has spent a full three days stretched out on a rack as punishment for kicking a guard in the testicles as he was mounting her from behind. My coffle was frequently taken by her during her punishment so that we could all see the consequences of injuring a guard.

It was a life changing experience for Cynthia. She had spent another week recovering in the infirmary. When she returned to the other slaves in training her spirit had largely been broken. Worse for The Training Academy and indirectly Cynthia, her value had been lowered by half at least. That guaranteed her a lower position and harder usage once she was sold.

Now I awaited my fate on this rack before me.

My Master started removing his clothing. He stood in plain view to my right. I watched as he took off each garment, folded it, and lay it on a chair. He continued until he was wearing only his breaches. I doubted he was wearing a cod piece even in the period dress, so it was easy to determine he was sexually excited.

Master Coshocton removed my cloak and placed it on the chair as well. I stood there in the chill air of the torture chamber awaiting his pleasure. He patted the heavy table top and said only a single word.

"Up!"

I was a bit scared, but a slave never disobeys a direct order from their Master, at least not more than once. Punishments are always swift and hard on the slave.

I climbed onto the rack and lay down on my back. Master Coshocton unlocked my wrists and ankles. The chain that hobbled me went onto the chair. My leather manacles followed it.

He attached the heavy steel manacles on the ends of the chains of the rack to my ankles first. The chains were short and attached to the very corners of the foot of the table. I could feel a cool breeze over my labia as I lay there waiting to see what my fate would be. My cunt was surprisingly warm with arousal. I knew I could be in intense pain in a few moments, but I have been coming to believe in my Master more and more and had no true fears for my safety. The small amount of discomfort and perhaps even pain that would likely soon follow would be the spice to this evening.

I know this sounds strange, Mother and Father, but in my time at The Training Academy the lone between pleasure and pain became blurred. I do not seek pain as some of my classmates came to do, but I do not flinch from it as I did before my enslavement. A small amount of pain in the pursuit of pleasure is now a price I willingly pay. My Master does not inflict much pain upon me even in punishment, so most of my remaining fear is based upon the past, not the reality of my present condition.

I hope this gives you some comfort for I know that you are concerned about my safety. I can even understand why now that I am contemplating having cubs with my Master.

Master Coshocton did stop for a moment as he walked from my feet to my head to rub my cunny to see if I was wet yet or not. His paw came away only slightly moist. I was still a little bit too concerned about my fate to be highly aroused and ready to be mounted yet.

It is a trust issue - one that we are both working upon solving. As strange as it must surely sound to you, Mother and Father, I am sure that we will soon reach a level of trust where I will be dripping wet if I am again in this situation.

My wrists were next. The chains were almost directly over my head as I lay on the hard wooden table. My Master made sure to secure the manacles carefully so that I could not escape either by accident or design. When he was done I was firmly attached to the rack. Whatever cries I made would be muffled by the ball gag still in my mouth, so my Master's ears would not suffer even if I did.

The winch had a wheel on the end located to my right. My Master took up position at the wheel and began to slowly turn the winch. I was breathing hard behind my gag as I listened to each click of the ratchet. I could hear the chains shift as the slack was drawn out of them. Worse, I could feel them move.

Master Coshocton was obviously drawing it out to play with me. It was working, too. I was getting both hotter in anticipation of our sex play and more scared that I had done something to offend him. After nearly fifteen seconds the chains were tight enough that they no longer lay limply on the table. Instead they ran in a curved line from my wrists and ankles to the rack.

This is the point that each slave dreads. If a Master seeks play, then he or she will stop soon. If they seek punishment, the ordeal is just beginning.

Five clicks of the ratchet later I had my answer.

My limbs were as taut as the chains that secured me, but there was no real pain, just a little discomfort. I had been hung for an hour from the Punishment Wall by my wrists in the past. That was true pain. This was little more than light bondage for me.

Now I lay on the rack with my body forming an inverted Y - my arms straight above my head and my legs spread wide. I was open to whatever my Master chose to do to my body. My vulva, breasts and, to a lesser extent, my tail hole were at his disposal. I knew he would do as he pleased, taking his pleasure from me as he willed without regard to my wishes. It is a most vulnerable feeling. It defines the fate of the submissive sex slave. We are raped at will by our Masters and other Dominant furs and then tossed aside until they next desire the pleasures of our flesh.

And yet, I desired this from Master Coshocton.

Much of that desire comes from my intense conditioning at The Training Academy. The first week there they took us through thousands of similar situations while bound to a chair and drugged with a chemical soup that addled our brains. They used fear and pain combined with intense sexual pleasure to break down all of our inhibitions. Later the conditioning was reinforced in every class and at every opportunity by the instructors and guards. Now freely giving my body to my Master is as natural as breathing. I can no more stop myself than I can hold my breath for long.

I am one of the fortunate ones, though. My Master is kind and does not abuse his power over me. He often gives me as much or more pleasure than he receives. I am often sad afterwards because I know I had not pleasured him as much as I need to do to fully repay him his kindness to me. That night I expected him to collect on some of my debt to him. It did not matter. I would gladly give him what he wanted.

Master Coshocton turned away from me and slid out of his breaches. I watched them slide over his nice tight feline ass. The white of the cloth was a nice match to his light gray fur. I growled low in my throat. I very much enjoy looking at my Master's naked body. I did not even care that it was part of the last bit of psychological conditioning done to me at The Training Academy. He looked good, and that was enough.

When he turned around I got the full frontal view I really wanted. As you know, Master Coshocton is a much smaller bobcat. One would think his sexual equipment was also small, but, as I discovered to my pleasure the first time we coupled, he lacks nothing in size compared to a tiger or other large cat in that department. His fine long pink penis jutted from his sheath and stood proud of his soft light gray belly fur. I smiled around my ball gag and purred in pleasure. I knew that I would soon have his penis inside one of my orifices.

While I doubt that Father can well understand this desire, I am sure Mother knows the pleasure that a male can give a female when he brings her to orgasm. My Master, while not a trained sex slave, has benefited from my instruction of him in various manners of pleasing a femfur. He is now quite skilled at sexually pleasuring me, and I craved his attentions and the many orgasms he brings me at every opportunity.

Master Coshocton leaped onto the table with the ease and grace of all felines. He straddled my prone body on paws and feet. I watched his penis sway gently back and forth above me as it hung down from his crotch. He saw where I was looking and laughed. I looked him in the eyes and grinned as widely as I could. We both wanted this.

What I did not know was how he planned to give me himself.

He shifted his body to kneel between my legs. He dropped his head and began to lick the underside of my breasts. He worked against the grain of my fur which intensified the feel of his rough tongue sliding up over my breasts. Worse, every so often he would rock his body forward and run the tip of his tongue over my rapidly hardening nipples. I was soon moaning loudly in pleasure. I could feel wetness between my legs as my nectar drizzled down from my slit, over my buttocks and onto the table top. I glanced at my Master's penis. A small glob of precum juice oozed out of his slit and dropped down onto my stomach fur. He would mount me soon.

When he dropped to his elbows, I thought it was just in preparation to thrusting deep into me. I was waiting for his strong thrusts to rock my body when I suddenly felt his paws running over my sides and underarms.

He was tickling me!

I lay there, underneath him, unable to defend myself, as he systematically licked my breasts and tickled me. Have you ever tried to moan in pleasure while laughing your head off? I was enjoying myself, but it was difficult to reconcile the various sensations going through my body simultaneously.

I am not sure how long Master Coshocton continued his double assault on me. I know it was more than a couple of minutes, but I think it was less than ten minutes. It was hard to say since I honestly lost track of time as I lay there laughing and writhing in my bonds.

At last I felt a hot shaft slide between my labia. He thrust hard and deep without hesitation. By then I was well lubricated and aroused as heck, so he met only slight resistance. The spines on his penis rubbed against the inside of my vulva and womb. It was enough to send me over the edge. My back arched as I had my first orgasm. I felt hot semen splash the inside of my vagina as I clamped down on my Master's hard shaft with my vaginal muscles. He continues to thrust and ejaculate for some time. I have always liked his endurance in that matter.

When my Master was done he rolled off of me and got down. He went to a corner and got a drink of water. I could have used a swig of water myself, but he did not offer. Such is the life of a slave.

He released the ratchet. The chains slackened. He removed the manacles from my ankles and wrists. I was able to move again, but I remained motionless awaiting my Master's orders.

Master Coshocton attached the lead to my collar again and ordered me, "Crawl on your belly!"

I had displeased him somehow! It did not take me long to figure out how.

A slave does not control her body. Their Master controls it totally, and when I say totally I mean exactly that. When we get up. When we go to sleep. When we eat. When we defecate and urinate. And, most importantly for a sex slave, when we can have the pleasure of an orgasm.

My Master had not granted me that release.

I hung my head in shame and crawled along behind him as he took me over to lay belly down on an open portion of the stone floor. There were two widely spaced rungs set in the floor. Attached to each were heavy metal chains with steel manacles. Above me were two more steel manacles hanging from the ceiling by a pair of heavy chains.

Master Coshocton attached the manacles on the floor to my ankles. The steel was cold and bit into my skin slightly. He had me stand up. That was difficult because my feet were spread over five feet apart, but I managed. Slave training includes a lot of moving around while in various forms and states of bondage. He secured my wrists in the manacles above me. My body was once again in the shape of an inverted Y, but now I was standing instead of lying. That makes a huge difference. The weight of my torso bore down almost painfully on my hips and widely spread legs. I received no help from the chains above me. My Master had left them loose and only lightly holding me in position.

My Master grabbed a tail net from the wall. A tail net is an insidious device similar to a Chinese finger puzzle. He slid it over the tip of my tail and pulled. The ropes making up the net tightened around my tail tip and held it tightly. So long as tension was applied to the free end of the ropes that make up the net, it would not come off. He made sure it would remain tight by tying the free end to the chain attached to my left wrist manacle. He made sure it was well secured. For my part, I had to raise my tail high. This of course exposed my bottom to my Master for whatever punishment he had chosen.

I was surprised when he removed my gag. I had expected to wear it the entire night. I circumspectively worked my jaw to relieve the soreness from having my mouth forced wide for an extended period of time. My jaw hurt somewhat, but it was a pain that I had learned to live with from many hours wearing a gag.

I watched out of the corner of my eye as my Master returned to the wall. My heart sank when he took the heavy black hood off the peg. He also picked up two small objects from a shelf. I could not tell what they were, but I soon learned.

Master Coshocton placed the two large ear plugs deep into my ear canals. They shut off all sound. The hood went on next. It was made from heavy black leather. There was a hole in the back for my hair and a larger one in front for my muzzle. There were no holes for my eyes or my ears. Once it was over my head I would lose my sight as well as my hearing.

My Master gathered my long black hair into a crude pony tail and threaded it through the back of the hood. The last thing I saw was the shiny black inside of the hood sliding over my head and blocking out the world. I felt him secure one strap around my neck and a second around the base of my muzzle. I could still talk or scream, but the hood would not slip off.

As I stood there awaiting my fate, my world was reduced to taste, touch and smell.

No matter how much disinfectant and soap the slaves use, there is always a lingering scent of fear in places like this. It was strong at The Training Academy despite their best efforts. Here it was just a faint underlying scent along with the barely noticeable smells of blood, urine and feces from those who had spent long hours in pain here. There was also a slightly metallic taste in the air from all the metal chains, shackles and torture implements scattered throughout the room.

Touch was what I most feared at the moment. I had no clue where my Master was or what he was doing. For several minutes I could not smell him close. I suspected that he was at the wall selecting something to use to punish me. That was why I feared his touch right now

I jumped when I felt the intruder at my backdoor. It was cold and hard. It did not hurt me as I feared it would, though.

A butt plug is shaped roughly like a pear with a T-shaped handle coming out of the fat end. The thin end goes in first. As more and more is inserted into the rectum the anal and rectal muscles are pushed open further and further. For a neophyte or even a trained slave a limit can be exceeded and the anus actually tears open. This happened to me several times during training.

The worst incident was the first time.

I was tightly bound bent over a bar in a room with a dozen other slaves of both sexes. We were arranged head to tail in a circle so we could not only feel what was happening to us but also see what they were doing, albeit on another slave. Between our widely spread legs was a series of progressively larger butt plugs and several tubes of lubricant.

There was an instructor or guard for each of us. I drew a sadistic male hyena. He smeared some lubricant onto my tail hole, but only the outside. He barely coated the smallest butt plug before placing the tip against my anus and pushing. Instinctively I tried to protect myself with my tail, but that was tied to the ceiling. As I learned later, clenching my buttocks only made the insertion worse. They had purposefully left us ungagged. I and several others yelled in fear as the hard plastic pieces pushed our tail holes open. For me and likely many of the others, it was our first time for any form of anal sex.

They left us there for several minutes while our bodies grew accustomed to the strange object lodged in our rectums. Then they pulled it out and inserted the next one. The first one had been more of a shock than painful. The second stretched me and many others uncomfortably. The room was filled with our groans. I got a good look at the tail hole of the small male raccoon in front of me. All I could do was wonder at the sight of the red plastic piece forced past his anus. It did not help to know that I had a proportionately large plug in my own hurting rectum.

They left the plugs in us for five minutes. Then they ordered us to expel them. I was not fast enough, so the hyena grabbed the handle and yanked. I screamed first at the plug coming out and then at the next, larger one being inserted. Most of the rest of the class was screaming in pain as well, but it did not even slow our instruction. The only thing that did was when our bodies tore and blood started to seep down our legs. My hyena tore me with the third plug, but hid it so he could force the fourth deep into me. I think I passed out for a bit, because I do not remember the time between him slapping the base of the final plug to force the last bit into me and when the instructor in charge mercifully called an end for the day.

It was not quite over for all of us, though. The lead instructor called out that the guards could have their pleasure with any intact rear that they desired. That was the first time I saw a male mount another male. The raccoon in front of me was taken by three of the guards - a bear, a ram and my hyena - before they untied us. I tried to look away, but the hyena grabbed my hair and forced my head around. I had to watch every second of it. From the grunts and groans around me I gathered several other slave furs were receiving similar treatment.

I spent a day in the infirmary recovering. I was still expected to keep up with my studies, so the male and, for my first time, female nurses used my body to instruct me in the arts being taught my classmates. They were not shy about using me for their personal pleasures as well including more anal sex.

All of that flashed through my mind in an instant as I felt the butt plug begin to open my anus. Would it be a small one that I could take easily? Or would it be a large one designed to rend and tear my flesh?

I had no way to know.

At first I felt no lubricant and feared I had maddened my Master with my ineptitude. Then the tip was past my anal ring. I had a round plastic shaft about the diameter of my small finger inside of me. That was not difficult to take with my training, but I suspected that the plug would soon start to widen.

I was right. I felt the pressure grow as the butt plug pushed me further apart as inch after inch slid up into me.

It was not as bad as it might sound, though. After the first inch or so my Master had added an excellent petroleum-based lubricant to the outside of the plug. He had obviously wished to play on my fears to heighten the experience without actually doing me harm. I would have liked to have some of it on the interior of my rectum as well, but the discomfort was easily bearable for one with my training. Indeed, the extra friction was actually pleasant since my Master was going slowly and allowing plenty of time for my anus and rectum to adjust. He would even withdraw the plug a bit when he felt too much resistance so my body could adjust to the butt plug.

After the first few moments of uncertainty I was incredibly randy again. I wiggled my hips at my Master to encourage him. He petted my flanks and the sensitive underside of my tail. I freely moaned as inch after inch slid into my rear end, filling me nicely.

In short, I loved it.

The plug was only large enough to fill me comfortably. It made me acutely aware of my nether regions. I was left standing for several minutes with my world further reduced to the full sensation in my behind. It felt a bit like needing to defecate, but there was no way I was going to expel this intruder.

I next felt something plastic push against my labia. I knew immediately that it was a dildo, but again I did not know how big it was, how it was shaped, or if it had anything special like a vibrator. I could only hope.

The tip of the dildo parted my labia. It slid up past my vulva and continued ever deeper into my vagina. I could feel the sides of the dildo and knew its breadth if not its length. It was a bit smaller than my Master's penis, but it was heavily ribbed. I could feel each individual rib slide into me as my Master ever so slowly inserted it. I was whining a bit by then because I wanted it all right then, but he refused to give it to me.

I am guessing Master Coshocton took five minutes or more to hilt the nine inches or so of dildo in my vagina. I clamped down hard on both the dildo and butt plug with my interior muscles. A shiver ran through my body. It felt so good being filled both front and back at my Master's paw. I was careful not to climax again, though. I had gotten into enough trouble for tonight. Granted my "punishment" was tender and pleasurable, but a slave did not tempt fate.

The best was to come, though.

As he pulled down on the dildo to slowly withdraw it, my Master started licking my clitoris furiously. As Mother can tell you, a feline's rough tongue lapping on a clitoris will send thrills though a female fur's body that are little short of indescribable. My Master was not casually lapping but licking as hard and fast as he could. When all but the last inch of the dildo was removed he pushed upwards to reinsert it deep in my sex.

This is one of our favorite forms of sex play. Master Coshocton positively loved to pleasure me this way. I must admit that I find it most enjoyable even if I must fight not to orgasm until he allows me. I often fail, but that only leads to other sex lay as my "punishment".

I would have collapsed on the ground from the waves of pleasure washing through my body if it were not for the chains binding me. As it was, I cried out repeatedly. Even with the thick walls I was expecting someone to hear us and come to investigate. Apparently even my full lunged yells did not get far past the door, though.

Master Coshocton worked me over for some indeterminate time. The intensity of the sensations running up my belly from my crotch put me into a half stupor. I could feel every thrust and sense every lick, but my mind was off in some other land filled with bright lights and incredibly intense pleasure.

I tried my best, but eventually my training and my will failed again. I climaxed with what must have been an ear splitting howl. My Master did not stop, though. He continued just as fast and furious. Better yet, he turned the vibrators in both the dildo and the butt plug on high. I no longer cared if I came or not. My body demanded release, and my mind could not stop it. I think I had six or seven massive climaxes over several minutes before the dildo slid out of my cunt, and I was left hanging in my chains, a spent tigress drenched in sweat.

He released me from my bonds. With his help I slid to the floor. His fingers pried open my muzzle. In slid his hard penis. I could already taste his salty precum juice flowing freely. I swiftly started to lick him. He thrust his hips hard and quick. I responded by wrapping my tongue and lips about his shaft and sucking hard. After a half dozen hard licks I felt his hot seed erupt from the end of his penis. I gulped all of the hot salty fluid down my throat being careful not to miss a single drop. Most Masters insist that a slave swallow every drop as a sign of submission, and my Master was no exception.

His punishment would almost certainly be light, but I would be punished.

After I was done Master Coshocton allowed me to lie on the floor for some time. This was good because I was able to regain my breath and strength, but bad because a slave being left alone may mean their Master is preparing something else, probably bad, for them. In my case I was nearly certain my night was not done, but with the hood I could not tell.

The hood came off. I blinked at the sudden light. After so long in the darkness of the hood, even the half light of the torture chamber was uncomfortably bright. My eyes adjusted quickly, though. My Master ordered me up. I stood and meekly walked along behind him as he led me to the next apparatus.

A slant rack is a simple device with many possibilities. The top is held at an angle somewhere between horizontal and vertical. The better ones are adjustable through the entire range. At the foot is a board that the captive fur stands upon. Some use stocks instead, but this one had the more customary foot board. At the top and around the edges were a series of eye-bolts sticking out of the sides of the top. These could be used to secure the victim using ropes, chains and other restraints.

This particular slant rack was set to a forty-five degree angle. My Master had me lay face down on the rack and stretch my arms towards the corners. Likewise, I had to spread my legs as wide as the tabletop would permit. The slant rack was meant for a smaller fur than me. I was able to reach the corners comfortably. I was afraid my Master would be upset, but he seemed to have planned on this. He brought over my manacles from home and returned them to my wrists and ankles. Short pieces of rope attached them to the rack.

Master Coshocton left me lying on the rack. My head was actually above the top edge, so I was able to watch as he went to the wall in front of me. There were several whips, crops and canes hanging on the wall. He made a show of inspecting several while I watched before selecting what appeared to be a monster.

The whip had twenty tails. I know because he counted them aloud. Each tail was a half inch wide and three feet long. The leather was a good eighth inch thick. Wielded by a Master bent on hurting a slave a whip can rip first fur then flesh from the body of the unlucky victim. My Master was much smaller than me, but he was still a feline with considerable strength. He could easily send me to the hospital or even the morgue with a whip.

["Master](%5C)

Artwork By Equine

So why did I smile broadly at him when he approached me as I lay helplessly on the rack?

I knew him. A whip can cause terrible damage, but the many wide tails meant that the force of a blow would be spread over a large area. An expert could spread the tails during the swing so that they struck individually along the entire length of a fur's back or buttocks. Master Coshocton was not an expert yet, but he was getting plenty of practice and was already capable of doing a good job. He would do me no deliberate harm that night. Indeed, I was looking forward to my whipping.

Yes, Mom and Dad, I do enjoy a gentle flogging. The key word here is gentle. The trick is not to strike hard enough to cause severe pain. Rather, the blows repeatedly fall lightly on the flesh. Each serves to warm the skin and bring a blush to the flesh. The extra blood flow and stimulation serve to make the soft tissue extremely sensitive. Further blows act to stroke the flesh and excite the submissive receiving the flogging.

I had been hurt by my Master on occasion as he was learning to use a whip properly, but never intentionally. It was only a badly calculated blow or mistake that had caused my pain. He had always apologized profusely and offered to stop, something he never had to do, but I had always insisted on continuing. He never struck even a quarter as hard as the blows I received at the Punishment Wall. The pain from the errant lashes passed quickly and only served to add to the strange mixture of pleasure and pain found on the edge of reality when one is being beaten for pleasure.

Master Coshocton had me stick my bottom out as far as possible. I slid down on the rack as far as the bonds of my wrists would allow. I brought my knees up underneath my buttocks as far as possible. I was able to get to an almost kneeling position that left my rear end hanging out behind me rather nicely. Without even being told I curled my tail up along my back to get it out of the way.

My Master started lightly striking my flanks with the whip. It made a nice sound as the leather tails struck each other, but it caused me no harm. I could have easily jumped in feigned pain, but both I and my Master would have known I was faking it. Instead I remained still and let the leather wrap around my rear.

He struck steadily harder. Each blow was just a little bit stronger than the last. Soon there was a little sting with each blow. I bit my lower lip but still remained still. I wanted him to strike harder. Soon, though, I was jumping just a bit as the whip came down upon my buttocks harder and harder. There was still virtually no lasting pain, but the sting was intense enough to be felt for a delicious moment before decreasing to a pleasant glow.

Master Coshocton worked over my behind for several minutes. He made sure as well that no part of my flanks and thighs were missed. He even snaked the tips of the whip between my legs to caress my inner thighs. I was very grateful he pulled his blows then because the tips sting far more than the full length of the tails.

Master Coshocton grabbed my tail and pulled it down over my rear. I braced myself as he shifted his blows to my back. He began just above my tail and worked up my back until the whip tails were striking just below my neck.

When he was done my entire backside from my knees to my neck was experiencing a most wonderful glow.

He made me lay face down on the rack again. I could see that he was erect once more, and I gathered I would service him again. First, though, he removed the butt plug from my rectum and tossed it to the floor. He coated my tail hole and his penis with a generous amount of lubricant. I watched him and purred. I was looking forward to what was to come next.

My Master knelt behind me on the slant rack. I expected him to thrust hard into my tail hole, but instead he leaned forward and ordered me to impale myself on his shaft. I grinned and lifted my buttocks back up into the air. He guided the tip of his penis to my tail hole but then remained as stationary as a statue.

I was bound and determined to repay him for both the pleasure I had experienced up to now and what was to come in this act. I relaxed my anal muscles as I had been taught and pushed my hips backwards. The tip of my Master's penis slid into me. I contracted my anal muscles and trapped it within me. I stopped pushing backwards and concentrated on fellating his penis with my anus. It is a difficult trick, but I have some ability in it though I need much more training and practice.

For tonight it was good enough as the long, loud groan of my Master told me. I grinned even wider. I started to both push back slowly to take more of him within me while alternating clamping my anus down hard on his shaft and almost completely releasing it.

The effects were dramatic.

I could feel my Master's sweat dripping down on my back and flanks as he bent forward and buried his claws into the wood of the rack top. The only physical contact between us was his penis in my tail hole, but I could feel his heat along my entire backside, and he could feel the glow of my lightly flogged body on his belly fur. It was a most intimate feeling even though we were barely physically touching.

I could tell Master Coshocton was rapidly mounting to a climax, and he was hardly half into me. I rammed my hips back and hilted his shaft into me hard with a single thrust. He gasped in surprise as his testicles bounced against my labia and inner thighs. I withdrew almost completely and humped him again hard, burying him completely within me for a second time.

I repeated the strong backwards thrust of my buttocks against my Master's belly several times before I heard him yelp and let loose with his load. As soon as his hot jism struck my rectum I came as well. He filled my rear nicely before his shaft wilted and withdrew from me.

My Master went to a bathroom attached to the torture chamber and cleaned up. I was left lying on the rack dreamily wondering what else would happen that night. I know that there must have been a large smile on my muzzle as I contemplated several possibilities as I awaited my Mater's return.

Master Coshocton cut my ropes and took me to another spot in the torture chamber. Four chains with heavy-duty snap rings hung from the ceiling. He attached my leather cuffs to one pair. I stood at ease with my paws held slightly above my head. The chains took most of the weight of my arms, so I was actually fairly comfortable. I was just uncertain what he planned.

My Master surprised me by asking me if I knew the gazelle that waited outside the door. I replied truthfully that she and I had attended The Training Academy together. He said nothing in reply but took several moments to think.

Master Coshocton left the torture chamber for a moment. I could hear the startled bleat of Cynthia as he woke her. He brought her into the torture chamber and bound her from the other set of chains facing and almost touching me. I could tell she was frightened and sad. She had hoped that for once a Master would keep his word not to hurt or abuse her. She had no choice, though. She must serve his slightest whim. If she failed, he would report her to her owner for punishment after he finished punishing her.

["Cynthia](%5C)

Artwork By Equine

My Master stood behind her and wrapped her in his arms. He very quietly told us that the room was likely monitored, but if we spoke softly there was a good chance those who watched would not be able to hear. Master Coshocton told us he had the room and Cynthia for another two hours. He would spend that time playing with our bodies as a cover, but we could talk as we wished.

Cynthia was reluctant at first, but I persevered nonetheless. I told her of what had happened to me, Sasha, and those others whose fate I knew. Cynthia asked some questions after some time, and I was able to eventually get her to converse with me as we discussed our lives after The Training Academy.

My Master's gentle paws feeling her body and his mouth nibbling her neck, shoulders and ears were a powerful distraction, though. I could smell the scent of her growing arousal and see the telltale blush and puffiness of her labia. She was becoming sexually excited. That did not stop her from telling me of her fate.

Cynthia served as a runner and pleasure slave at the castle. The Dominants and owners of the establishment could sometimes be abusive, but mostly it was a show. They wanted their slaves in good condition to be used by the paying guests for their pleasure. That was how they made their profits. The paying furs ranged from a pleasant night's assignation to a living hell of pain and abuse. The owners tended to screen out the worst, and a fur who severely hurt one of the slaves did not normally return. In all, it was a bearable if not pleasant existence for a sex slave.

I think she would have added more, but I had grown restless watching her hardening nipples while she talked. I leaned forward and started to lick her face. My muzzle traveled further down until my tongue found her breasts. I remembered all of her sensitive spots and made sure to find each. My Master's paws somehow ended up between her legs at the same time my mouth found her left nipple. Between the two of us we managed to give her a very intense orgasm.

Master Coshocton and I exchanged glances. Time was getting short, but we still had at least an hour. He released us and made us lay down on a mat on the floor. Cynthia was on her left side with her left arm secured to a ring above her head and her left leg secured to a ring below her hoof. I lay facing her on my right side.

I started at Cynthia's neck and worked down until my muzzle was buried deep into her crotch. My Master lifted her right leg and slid a well lubricated forefinger into her tail hole. He thrust it in and out for several minutes as she grew used to it and her anal muscles relaxed. A second, third and eventually fourth finger joined the first. She was well spread and loose now. He withdrew his fingers and thrust his penis up into her. I continued to lick her labia furiously. From the taste of her juices I knew she reached a climax at least three times before Master Coshocton mounted her and twice more before he ejaculated.

A little later we lay together in a pile as the last few minutes of our bought time together ticked away. We talked quietly and nuzzled each other. Master Coshocton promised we would return. I think she believed him. I know I did, and I looked forward to seeing another of my classmates even if it was only for a few fleeting hours.

We left Cynthia and the castle around 1 AM. I was again wearing my gag, leather cuffs, chains and cloak. I had a definite swagger to my hips now, though. All knew that I had been beaten and mounted by my Master, but I did not care. He had given both me and Cynthia considerable pleasure that night and not just the sexual kind. He deserved the accolades the male furs gave him as we passed

That night I fell asleep in my Master's arms satiated and happy.

Jenna turned off the recorder and with some trepidation hit the send button. The original went to her parents, and a copy went to Master Coshocton.

She tried not to think much more of it. There was no telling what her parents would think or do when they received and read it.

A week later she was unexpectedly handed a handwritten letter from her parents by her Master.

Dearest Jenna,

We were indeed shocked when we read your first message. We had no clue how you could ever live through the hell they put you through at The Training Academy or what Coshocton did and does to you. We were so angry at Coshocton until we read your message all the way through that we almost came there to confront him and demand your freedom again.

We do not approve of your relationship with him. You are our daughter, and we want you to be free, not his property. We are trying to understand your affection for him and the physical side of your desire for him, though.

To that end, we visited The Castle Gentlemen's Club, the place Coshocton took you that night. We found out the location from him, and he arranged entrance for us. We saw some of the same things you did in the main rooms.

They disgusted us.

We went into the dungeon and tried some of what you described of your trip there. Not the whippings or the rack, but the gentler sex play. We did not enjoy it nearly as much as you two obviously did, but we could see how a fur could perhaps come to like it. We will not condone it as natural and proper, but we also will not condemn either you or Coshocton so long as he does not deliberately hurt you.

We also met Cynthia while we were there. We asked the owner that she join us in the torture chamber to help us. Her lot took a turn for the worse after you left. One of the guests injured her right leg so that she now has trouble walking. From what she told us on our visit, she was likely going to be abused until she was no longer viable as a sex slave and then either sold or allowed to be killed by a customer.

We love you, Jenna, and we still want to buy your freedom, but we could not allow Cynthia to be sold into hard labor or tortured to death. We still had some of the money from mortgaging our house in our attempt to buy you back. We talked with the owner and managed to buy Cynthia for what we hope was a fair sum.

Now, much to our surprise and chagrin, we are the owners of a young and very willing sex slave who refuses to take "No" for an answer.

It has been an interesting week.

With love,

Mother and Father