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A shrill echo rattled through the long and forlorn hallway as the dungeon doors closed, a final clank as an old key turned the deadbolt to leave their newest prisoner behind. A chained ermine, white in fur, lithe and toned, but not overly strong looking, kneeled spread legged on the soft carpeted floor. His arms were outstretched upwards at a mild angle, chains connecting to sapphire studded cuffs that snugly gripped his wrists. Similar cuffs and adjoining chains held his ankles where they rested.

Many who saw this cell would rightfully question its demeanor and comfort, as it possessed far more amenities than one would initially assume. This, however, was a specific prison, built and created for a specific kind of crime against the state. Murderers, thieves, frauds, debtors, and others like them served their time in traditional cells and jails, with stone floors and steel beds and awful food and even worse guards. Where the weasel kneeled, was the environment provided for sex criminals.

Dragonfly, as he had become known as, was a prostitute, working in underground brothels or setting up secret trysts with clients. He traded time and pleasure with his body for their coins, though he'd never been able to make much more than was necessary to get by. It was never a dream of his to find himself in such a line of work, but earlier instances of abuse from his father and sexual degradation and assault from the same and his friends when they got intoxicated, had changed his fate.

When he was finally thrown from the house he had grown to loathe and hate, he left with a collar and set of cuffs welded around his body, and an intricate tattoo of a twin tailed dragonfly over his lower back and butt cheeks he had been forced to accept one night from the bartender of the establishment his father most loved frequenting. Job prospects were scarce, and Dragonfly found that his only options were dirty work handed out by low lifes and the dredges who lived in the sewers of the city.

Soon enough, his appearance drew the worst types of attention, and the weasel found himself more and more often earning coins with his tail raised, legs spread, and wealthier males plundering his rear end and muzzle. After a few months, no one hired him for anything else. One client promised him a way to ensure he could make more money and when he agreed, he ended the night with violet fishnet running up his legs and arms with new cuffs welded tightly around his upper arms and thighs.

After that, Dragonfly no longer needed to pursue sex, but just wait for it to find him. Hours were spent from sunset to sunrise bedding with numerous clients, almost all males, who bred him, coated him, and swelled his guts and stomach with their ball syrup. His self respect faded to nothing within a year, and he began to allow clients to adorn him for additional silver and the rare gold coin at times. Piercings were added, jewelry sealed onto fingers and toes, his hair dyed, a harness locked around his torso and waist. By the time he realized he'd let it go too far, he'd fallen in too deep. Escape was no longer an option, only acquiescence.

As with all long term crime sprees, rare is the deviant who avoids being caught eventually, and after two and a quarter years in full fledged, shameless debauchery, he was caught by an investigator and charged with crimes against nature and against God. His trial was swift, with him being forced to take the stand in nothing but his decorations and a miniscule lace thong. He was condemned by the crowd, by the judge, and by the king, who swore to be the voice of God himself. His sentence was five years as a sex slave in the most squalid dungeons built, followed by a branding brandishing him as a deviant and permanent exilation from the city after he had served his time.

Thus he was left vulnerable in his cell. Hallways wrapped around all four walls, his body visible from all angles, on display for the guards, for other prisoners, and for the animals that roamed the depths. These floors were hundreds of feet below the surface, hidden from a society that preferred to use them as punishment for the weakened, but loved to forget they built them in the first place when praising their holy behavior in the halls of the cathedrals they drooled over.

Bitterness and regret were his only companions down here. The walls were lined with shelves and hooks, holding various pieces of sexual equipment and appliances. Dildos of all sizes and lengths and shapes, weights and restraints, whips and chains, sounding wands, etc. Dragonfly was promised by the guards that every single item would be used on him, and countless many times. They told him that no one had ever left the dungeon with any remaining sanity once their time was served and they guaranteed him he would be no different.

Hours seemed to linger on as if they were weeks upon themselves, the only company the weasel had were the weights pulling down on his nipple rings and the ribbed steel dildo sunk nearly a foot into his rectum. The chains holding his limbs made it impossible for Dragonfly to slide more than a few inches of the steel penetrator out of his rump, but the position was so uncomfortable that he soon just sunk down upon it fully, groaning as the bulbous end stretched into his colon. Tears fell from eyes he couldn't even wipe, drool falling out his slowly dehydrating mouth courtesy of the ring gag stuffed between his jaws that made it impossible to swallow.

Down here, the prison stretched out for miles. Down here, there weren't any guards except when they entered for their own enjoyment. Here was anarchy, an economy based on food, power, sexual predation, influence and control. Every prisoner started here chained and bound and entirely helpless, and many served every minute of their sentence like that. Others either managed to get free of their own measures, or were offered deals in exchange for potentially even worse fates. Until you were free, you were nothing more than a victim to be assaulted by those who were.

It didn't take too long before Dragonfly saw his first fellow resident. Knowing what he did at this point, he had no assumption that this would be a positive encounter. The rugged looking, dark grey raccoon didn't waste much time in proving him right, green eyes beaming when he locked his vision to that of the prone ermine, chained, spread, and tail raised to showcase the gleaming metallic dildo deeply impaled in his anus. A few steps took the raccoon out of the weasel's periphery and out of view, but a dozen seconds later, Dragonfly could both hear and smell his breath mere feet from his backside.

"Fresh meat doesn't arrive here very often, and the guards never tell us which cell a new prisoner will be chained in. Must be my lucky day," the raccoon slowly cackled to himself as he knelt down behind the weasel. "Or whatever the fuck a day even is down here."

Interested paws gripped the ermine's lithe hips, thumbs moving inwards to trace over the gleaming violet, silver and sapphire pigment of the inked insect on his lower spine, splitting to glide over the tails as they curved along with his speared butt cheeks. The procyon wasn't concerned with more small talk, even though it was entirely one sided, not saying another word over the next few minutes as his tongue and teeth joined in on the molestation of this hell's newest soul.

Those same fingers trailed over his front side, playing with his numerous piercings, flicking his navel ring, sliding up to pull further down on the weights hanging from the ermine's swollen nipples, drawing a pained, but saliva distorted cry from the chained captive's mouth. Several more tugs drew out similar reactions, followed by a small, almost imperceptible sob before the raccoon moved his paws back down. Claws drew just past his thigh cuffs, sliding under the taut fishnet before scraping upwards to his hips. The ermine flinched and whined, lines of red now staining his white fur as blood began to slowly seep from the fresh wounds.

Teeth grazed at his nape, teasing over the three violet barbells pierced in a column underneath his collar, striking a beautiful combo with his skinny mane of black based but blue frosted head and backfur that ran from his forehead down half the length of his back. Persistent paws once again grabbed his hips, but pulled the weasel's frame downwards, forcing his arms to stretch as far as they could in order to sink the final inch and a half of the steel dildo into the depths of his flesh.

Within seconds, he felt his body being forcibly fucked on it, going up four to five inches before the raccoon pulled him right back down, finding a rhythm after a dozen repetitions. For the first time, Dragonfly felt the ridges and beads of the artificial phallus stimulating his insides, and more specifically, his prostate and colon sphincter. Both of them sent contradicting shockwaves of pleasure and nausea through his crotch and stomach, but his own sheath stirred at the memory of the sensation. For the procyon, it was a scene that turned his enforced sadistic urges onward, increasing the pace as he heard the whimpers of his victim and the increasing emergence of the ermine's bedazzled, dark blue shaft.

A hundred or so thrusts on the dildo had Dragonfly's penis rock hard, glinting with seven sapphire frenulum barbells that ran along the underside. Five violet rings hugged the edge of his coronal ridge, with another shimmering ring spilling from his urethra before curving backwards to pierce back into his glans. Three more sapphire rings with violet gems hung from the front of his ballsac, a testament to how much he'd let happen to him in the pursuit of a currency that had bankrupted him of any form of meaning past survival. The sight was apparently enough to entice his rapist into more words.

"Only a slave would have such a richly decorated and non functional cock. In that, your appearance matches your future. I will make you my slave, and my companions will make you their slave. Cum will run from your pucker like water over a cliff. You shall taste my seed hours after I have gone to sleep and feel my cock inside you even when there isn't a whisper of a breath along the hallways for you to hear."

The words were spoken with such malice and contempt, but also hunger and lust, that Dragonfly's erection abated for a few seconds before the thrusts upon the dildo brought him back to full mast. An extreme feeling of cold seared through his body like an icicle of dread, and he cried out when he felt the raccoon lift his hips up high and then pull the rest of the metallic shaft from his guts, lubricant smearing down his thighs and cheeks. The raccoon licked his shoulders as he scooted directly behind his victim, a prominent, thick, and oozing dick quickly pressing and grinding against his rump.

A shudder ran through the procyon's body as he ground against his victim, his cock aching for the white furred captive's hot hole. There would be many times to take his time and enjoy the weasel's body. This section of the prison was securely his territory, so no one would be stealing his prize from him. Perhaps, someday, he might release the ermine and see of what value other than sex he could provide, but every prisoner spent months as a cock sleeve, and that would not change here.

Excitedly, he pulled his frame back and gripped the prone mustelid's hips. Pushing them down, he rather quickly aligned hole to tip and then sunk inside his passage all the way to the hilt, hissing in pleasure as he felt the weasel clench and let loose a prolonged, but quiet moan. For many long seconds, the raccoon, who went by the name of Scurvy, lingered in the still mildly tight grip of his new slave's anal passage. Before he began to fuck and claim him, he used his fingers to trace over the vibrant insect one more time.

"You are my insect, boy, and the second you forget your place and value here, I will squash you like one," Scurvy spat those words at the back of the weasel's body, audibly sneering. "Do you understand, slave?"

In despair, Dragonfly knew there was only one option that existed for him as a reply, and so he nodded, and then groaned as he felt the hot raccoon shaft inside of his butt begin to thrust in and out of him. The lubrication that had been used for the dildo was designed to last for a very long time, and plenty long enough to still be slick and wet right now. Each thrust glided through his body like a stick of butter, not quite as long as the steel had sunk, but long enough that he could feel his tired colon sphincter prodded with each emphatic pump of his master's hips.

Saliva painted his back in splatters, the thirsty and very horny raccoon hissing and panting as he thrust. Certainly, Scurvy had plenty of rumps to choose from in his selection of slaves as well as low to mid ranking members. Dozens of still chained prisoners laid well within the safe boundaries of his territory, one of five different majority gangs that ruled the many square miles that this complex prison system extended for. Nothing was quite as arousing as a new captive, however, and the volume of precum that oozed from his urethra mixed with the surging and throbbing of sperm from his balls made it clear that his first copulation with the bedazzled ermine would be excessively copious.

The clank of chains and slop of sex clattered throughout the soul crushing walls of hell donw here, likely traveling for hundreds of meters as disjointed echoes. Scurvy slathered his saliva over the ermine's neck with his tongue, meanwhile using his paws to yank downward on those nipple ring weights with every thrusting hilt of their non-consensual copulation. Sweat began to run off of both of their bodies, the dungeon normally cold and damp losing in the battle against such intensely close breeding.

Dragonfly whined and moaned as those eight to nine inches of procyon penis pumped powerfully in between his glutes. Foam formed at the corner of his forcibly spread lips, and drool fell from his lower lips like a flooding lake over a ridge. His own cock throbbed at full mast, engorged with the blood that escaped dripping from the still bleeding scores along his thighs. Misery in his mind accompanied bliss in his body, the aggressive confusion fucking his senses as ruthlessly as the raccoon himself was. Surges of ecstasy pulsed through his prostate, drawing up memories of rough breedings he subjected his body to in the dark recesses of cellars and alleyways.

His mind had become far too wired on sexual addiction to fight for long, and he soon found himself giving in to the physical sensations rebounding through his nerves and muscles. Unsure when he realized it or for how long he had been doing so, Dragonfly instinctively pushed back against the raccoon's claim by sex, his crotch driving down upon that hot length buried inside of him. Pain registered as positive stimulation in his nipples as his pecs sang with joy from every tug. He gasped and gagged and whined and moaned and pleaded, urging his rapist on, ferociously desperate to feel the surge of cum streaming into his guts.

The wait was not to be a long one, Scurvy not having a reputation for a long level of endurance with new slaves. His thrusts became erratic and labored, the twitches running through his penis staccatic and random. Paws fell from those weights and slid around the ermine's waist and chest, pulling him in as a few dozen short, violent thrusts barreled into the slave, culminating in a feral howl as searing hot heat filled the base of his spire, holding for an eternal second before erupting into the mustelid's nethers. Thick strings of semen launched into his captive's colon, splattering multiple inches into the passageway, coating the smooth muscles buried deep like treasure.

Dragonfly could viscerally feel each throb, and even the force of the hot jets of spunk as his new owner and master bred him thoroughly. Cum practically punched into his flesh, the raccoon's penis swelling enough to hold most of it deeply inside. Still, several streams found their way out, spilling down his taint or splattering against his sweat drenched butt cheeks. Pulse after pulse spilled out, soaking his guts and matting his rear end before the climax finally began to abate. However, the ermine could feel that the procyon's shaft hadn't softened even the slightest amount.

Panting in sheer arousal, Scurvy could feel his spent shaft demanding another release, so intense was his lust that even orgasm couldn't deflate it. It was no concern of his, though, as his many breedings had helped him to be capable of fucking nonstop for hours at a time. Growling, the striped brute pressed forward, forcing the weasel's body downward until his arms couldn't give anymore against the chains holding his wrists. Holding his slave's shoulders, he bit down into his scruff and began to hump and thrust with savage abandon.

Crying out in pain, but ever growing lecherousness, the weasel found a thrill underneath the agony in his shoulders and lower back. The raccoon's cock slapped into his rear like a piston, each driving thrust forward and relentless draw backwards creating the pounding sloppiness of thick liquid. The sounds were grotesque and disgusting, already released strings of cum now lubricating his rectum and gathering and releasing trapped air so it sounded like he was farting with every drive of the raccoon's crotch.

Somewhere along the way, a mild surge of relief rolled through Dragonfly's frame and he felt his own seed spill out from his balls and abused prostate. One long string after another rippled through his penis and onto the carpet he was bent over and looking at. The spasmic clenching of his rectum made his owner howl with delight and fuck him even faster. Drool spilled from his gaping lips like a sieve, and a mixture of fluids streamed down his balls. His shoulders felt like they might dislocate from their sockets, but relief arrived soon enough.

A second round of raccoon seed poured into the ermine's insides, with Scurvy humping through the whole climax. Uncontainable spunk splattered all over his slave's ass cheeks, marking them distinctively. Midway through, he drew back too far as his cock finally began to soften, but he thrust undeterred, coating the weasel with ropes of fresh sperm over his back. He wheezed in lengthening breaths as the spurts turned to an oozing stream, the flesh spigot finally turning off as he traversed through a second successive seeding.

Dragonfly's whole body was coated with raccoon saliva, sweat, and semen. Wet cum ran down his back and hips like small rivers, while a stream vented out of his asshole. Thicker strings of seminal cheese marinated in his sticky guts, cum that would take hours or even a day or two to finally seep out of his passage, though far more likely, it would be accompanied by endless more loads in short order. In the small reprieve, the weasel just tried to regain lost oxygen by taking deeper breaths as the rush of coitus wore off. As the mist of lust faded, the disgust of such an unruly fucking of his body rushed over him. Tears formed at his eyes, and though he could not stop them, the ermine just barely managed to keep from crying.

Fingers slid tormentingly over his drenched body, digging through the fur, though mercifully ignoring his nipples that pulsed violently in pained trauma. He shuddered as the raccoon's claws trailed over his limp cock, teasing over its hyper sensitive length for many long seconds as his owner suckled on his aching shoulders. A stinging tug of his balls caught him off guard and nearly buckled his body before a bittersweet release and separation from the procyon's body followed.

"That was a very good first time, insect. I expect sessions to go much the same in the future, with myself, and with any other interested members in my gang. My seed marks you as one of us now, though as the lowest of the low. You are our bitch, our slave, our property. I will grind you into the dirt as time draws on. And only time itself will tell me what possible reasons could exist to justify releasing you from your chains."

Stepping in front of his prize, Scurvy kneeled down, his paws brushing over the mustelid's face, a malicious smile quivering momentarily on his lips as he saw his slave's tears.

"Fucking is thirsty work and it's important to keep cooperative and satisfying slaves in healthy condition. Would you like something to drink?"

Water sounded like heaven to the ermine at this point, enough so that it pierced through the haze of mental trauma he just went through. Impulsively, he nodded and whined, hoping the submissive sound would be enough to persuade the raccoon to at least provide him that small of a reward. When his master chuckled with malevolence and brought his hand to his mostly limp shaft, Dragonfly realized his error. Seconds later, that dick was pressed to the back of his throat, and then hot, acrid urine began to pour down his throat.

Shaking in horrid repulsion, the white furred, but cum drenched weasel did all he could to swallow the deluge of piss, but after a few seconds of such a fast stream, he began to gag. In response, the raccoon grabbed the back of his head and forced his shaft even further down his throat, just enough to keep him from coughing any up, but shallow enough to ensure he tasted it in full. Dragonfly felt it gush down his esophagus, soon shivering as his stomach expanded to a nearly unbearable size.

Nearing the end of emptying the contents of his bladder, but also recognizing his slave couldn't take anymore without suffering lethal injury, Scurvy pulled back out, letting the last ten or so seconds of his stream saturate and stain the ermine's face, turning it a mild yellow hue. Looking straight down at his slave's blue, traumatized eyes, the raccoon let a long stream of thick saliva fall onto his forehead before stepping away. Looking at the wall, he found the pair of weights he felt was a perfect end to their first encounter.

"Such a well behaved and enjoyable slave deserves a proper reward for his efforts. I'm going to take a nap back on my bed. I'll see you again soon. No one else will find you here until I tell them it's okay, and I think I might wait a little while. For now, I'm the only company you'll get to enjoy."

Dragonfly whimpered and drew back as a reflex as he saw the procyon approach with those weights. All he got was a chuckle back in return before a sharp slap cracked against the left side of his face. Searing pain ran through his jaw and cheek, but was quickly outmatched by the torture of signals his nipples sent through as a second pair of weights was added onto his first, pulling them down at a near unendurable force. The ermine kneeled on the floor, helpless, as his new master nodded his head in approval before kissing the ermine on the nose.

"See you soon, slave," was all Dragonfly heard before another sharply vicious tug on his nipple weights sent enough pain and shock through his system to make him pass out, barely registering the sensation of him pissing himself before the whole world fell into a blissful respite of total black unconsciousness.