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Kat had never been so deep into the countryside. The smilodon was proud to call herself a city girl, even if the rent stabbed at her spine like a parasite. In the city, you could walk anywhere, or use some mildly decent public transit to go where you needed. It saved her enough on gas, but so did not owning a car of her own. Then again, money hadn't been an issue since she'd been seeing Mr. Buck, or Bagshot, as the ram preferred to be called. An odd first name, but his oddities did little to hamper her attraction.

Nor did the money. As Kat watched the seemingly infinite trees pass by through the window of the limousine, she found herself wondering how lucky she was. She peered over to him, sitting to the right of her and dressed in a fine tuxedo that both hid his muscles and pronounced them at the same time. Despite the products to deal with graying fur, Bagshot wore his colors well to match his age. Never once did she mistake him for lacking endurance in the bed, and the wonders he'd shown her had the smilodon quiver inside the long cloak.

She was lucky. Fortunate to catch his eye. Kat struggled with her own attraction, citing that her pudge was a detriment to her looks. Bagshot not only didn't care, but he comforted her with it. Never once mocking her weight during play despite the numerous times she'd have been fine with it. His sadism in bed had bloomed a masochistic flower.

"So, do you go to these parties often?" She asked, tired of looking at trees. She'd much rather keep her attention on the ram, her 'master' as they referred to each other in the bedroom.

Bagshot tilted his head to the side, "I wouldn't say often. I used to go more when I was your age, before I had my prospects. But the casino takes up too much of my time for events like these."

Kat tried imagining him at her age. The lack of stretch marks from their many sessions told her he hadn't been a chubby man. Was he as well defined back then? And what of his fur? His headfur faded now, but was it a thicker gray, or another color? She couldn't quite imagine him as a redhead such as herself. "Must be intense, given what I'm wearing." The smilodon thumbed through the leather collar around her neck, the only article of clothing beyond the black heavy hooded silk cloak she wore. When Bagshot told her of the dress code, she'd considered him to be joking. But now, naked and delivered to a discreet mansion in the countryside, she figured the only humor was her reaction.

"Intense is a good way to put it." He rested a hand against her lap. Kat had felt that hand in so many places, from between her legs, across her face, and around her throat. His touch had her blushing, craving anything from the gentle embrace to the harsh strike of a sadist. "I should mention that there is a certain etiquette to these kinds of things."

"Oh?" She smiled, nestling close to him, "Like what? Do I need to stay on my knees the entire time?"

The ram chuckled, and, with a deep breath, gently took hold of the smilodon's hand. "I know that we are rather lax in our play." Kat had trouble sitting down enough times after to disagree, but she let him continue. "But at this party, you will not be Katherine Smores, the lovely young lady I have in my home almost every night. No, here you will be considered a slave. An object. Property." His hand tightened, as if scared to lose her. "You are not there to mingle. They expect you to speak only when spoken to, to keep your eyes down and obey without question. And I can't promise I will be there to shake people off.

My eyes will always be on you." He reached for her face, cupping her chin to pull her into his earthy brown gaze. Worry and conviction met her in equal measure. "But your consent is forfeit the moment we walk through that door. There will be no safeword, no outs for you. Of course, no permanent harm will come to you. Any member that causes such a thing is punished severely, outside of...well those circumstances are unlikely."

"Outside of what circumstance?" She asked. Everything else should have had her running. She'd spent so many nights in Bagshot's bed, learning the ins and outs of safety and earning his trust. Yet the idea of being used, paraded around by others, pumped her heart quick enough to shake her body.

His eyes shifted back and forth, then he sighed. "The leaders are exempt from certain rules. As far as I know, only Mistress Zyz is attending, because it's her party. I don't believe you will catch her eye, but if you do, be mindful of your place."

"Zyz?" She asked, first hearing the name.

"Mistress Zyz," Bagshot corrected. "Never call her anything else." He pulled her in close, nestling her face against the checkfur sneaking out of his shirt collar. "I won't be able to act as comforting there. To me, you're a wonderful partner. But to everyone else, you are my slave. Do not expect a soft hand from me in those walls." Fingers brushed through her headfur, as if to soothe any fear crawling up her spine. "I'll ask this only once more, are you sure you want to do this?"

Kat would be lying if she said second thoughts hadn't crept up in the back of her mind. She had known Mr. Buck for well over a year, not once feeling unsafe around him even as he tanned her ass red. The ram always carried a jovial tone, mixed with confidence that had her all the more willing to be at her knees.

But there was worry in his voice tonight. She wasn't sure if it was for her safety, or because he feared losing her. Her fingers tip-toed up his chest, stopping at his heart where she pressed her palm against him. His heartbeat raced against her touch, anxiety palpable to her.

Her kiss steadied it. "I trust you, Master."

Bagshot's confident demeanor cracked at her kiss. He smiled back, genuinely happy for her choice while caressing her cheek. "That's a good girl." Two masks were pulled from the glovebox, one white, the other gold, both meant to cover their eyes like they were attending a masquerade ball. The white one snapped over her face as the limo halted, followed by the metallic click of a leash hooking against her collar.

No words escaped Bagshot's lips when the door opened, his mouth sullen and brow hidden behind the golden mask. One quick tug told her to get up and follow, eyes down as she trudged across the red cobblestone walkway. The click of his pegleg bounced in her ears with each step, her only destruction by the firm hold of the collar around her neck.

It softened with the carpet, a calming deep blue that ended with the black dress shoes of a door guard. Keeping focus on them, Kat figured they had to be better than what her father owned. "Password?" The doorguard asked, carrying a deep voice she'd find suited for ominous introductions.

"Sadismo." Bagshot's tone carried a hint of frustration, as though held up by stupidity. The guard stepped aside, letting them through into the cool marble floored manor set out before them.

As down as her head was, Kat had to catch a peek of what this place had to offer. Bagshot's penthouse was extravagant, but she'd never been inside an actual mansion before. Through the slits in her mask, she eyed the trappings of another world. From paintings of both abstract and not, sets of armor lining the walls of the hallways they stepped by, statues and sculptures depicting conquerors, or furs bowing in servitude to no one but those who walked up to them.

Had she walked into someone's home, or a museum?

If there was a place to gather, Bagshot made no intention to meet there. From the corner of her eye, Kat saw others in attendance, hooded figures with heavy cloaks and white masks, attendants in vest garments and black masks, expertly balancing trays of fanciful snacks that she couldn't make out. Then there were the guests, or at least what she assumed they were. Those in fline clothes, from tuxedos to dresses that Kat would die for, each wearing a golden mask like her master. Some had a white mask at their back by a leash, others had two or more, and some were without, either with another gold mask, or simply alone to marvel at the display pieces.

Her master did not mingle. He moved around at random, dragging her along through the party as if playing hide and seek. Was this for her sake? Or his own? A feminine voice soon answered that question. "Bagshot Buck? Do my eyes deceive me?" At reflex, Kat looked to her right, catching a doberman with an hourglass body and a form fitting suit with a hooded figure at her side. She looked down immediately, hoping her mistake hadn't caught the newcomer's notice.

"Catherine Briar," Bagshot said with soft contempt, "And here I thought you'd be too busy digging into the dirt for oil. Have enough for an emergency transfusion I suppose?"

The doberman laughed, "Says the ram who runs a fort of lies built upon the tears of the addicted. Just how many card sharks do you have in the cornfields?"

"Enough to match the fish caught in your spills." Bagshot's cold complexion and the smile across Catherine's face created electricity in the air. As though Kat had rubbed her feet across a shag rug enough to charge her entire body with static. She fought the urge to bite her lip, holding steady as the two dominants stared each other down.

They laughed. Softly at first, but growing louder until the two hugged each other like old friends on a warm summer's eve. "Oh my darling, we just have to catch up." Catherine pursed her lips and planted a firm kiss across the ram's cheek. He returned the favor, despite the gnawing jealousy growing in Kat's spine. "How have you been? We don't normally see you at these events."

"Busy," Bagshot said with a resounding sigh, "Very busy. Running my empire takes a lot of focus, so what little freetime I have, I spend wisely." His gaze shifted over to Kat as he spoke. The smilodon felt her heart flutter at the hidden compliment. He'd never looked tired around her, but then again, she had seen his mornings after their play. Spend enough time waking up besides someone, and you tend to notice their exhaustion.

Catherine caught his shifting gaze, narrowing her attention to Kat. "And who did you bring tonight?" She asked, taking hold of the smilodon's muzzle to arc her up and direct her into the doberman's amber eyes. "Hmm...What can be seen is rather cute. The robe hides most of it." Her hands dragged down the cloak, pressing against Kat's body to outline her. "A bit wide for my tastes. Though I suppose I could make exceptions tonight. More to touch after all."

A mix of shame and pride roiled inside her at the backhanded compliment. One gaze from her master told Kat to keep still, letting Catherine explore her body like a product on the assembly line. The doberman grinned, turning Kat's head from side to side, then slipping her thumb past the cat's teeth to press against her tongue. She wanted to nip, to tell this woman to fuck off and that only Bagshot got to touch her like this. But this wasn't the place for that, not for her position.

"She is...in training." Bagshot coughed out. "We met on the floor of my casino, she was working and I found her talents were better suited elsewhere."

"And they call me the dirty dog." Catherine let go, "Enslaving your own employee? You're almost too literal."

"And who is this?" Bagshot looped his finger around the collar hidden behind Catherine's robbed figure. A soft squeak escaped their lips, and the briefest hint of an Adam's apple caught Kat's eye. "I thought cat's favored mice?"

"Stereotypes will get you nowhere, my dear." Catherine pulled at her leash, stealing her masked figure out of Bagshot's touch and into her waiting arms. She hugged them tight, possessively, "This cutie of mine has been in my service for almost a year now. Why, just last week I had him move in and start being employed as a...well officially he's my butler, but I think he looks terrible in those kinds of pants." She pointed to the waitstaff for clarification. Even with his mask, Kat could see the blush burning underneath his fur.

"So what does he look good in?" Bagshot asked, inspecting the other slave. "Is he a thong kind of butler, or more of a maid?"

"Whatever my fancy." Catherine thumbed at her pet's chin, "Though I don't expect him to draw her attention tonight. I've kept him locked for a reason."

"Still so possessive." The ram shook his head, "Not that I can complain, he's your toy. Hopefully you don't tear through others when it's time to share." Share? Kat did her best to remain still at that word, but her body twitched at the debauchery playing out in her mind. The smilodon tried to turn her attention to something else, anything else. From paintings, shoes, to the pair of rabbit's staring in her direction.

Bagshot pulled at her leash. "Well it's been lovely catching up, but we have a bit before the gathering so I'd like to mingle if you don't mind. A lot of faces I need to greet, palms I need to shake, and stories I need to pretend I care about." The last she saw of Catherine and her pet were the stunning amber eyes of a woman on the hunt. Though the more Bagshot mingled with others, the more common that gaze became.

Kat was used to kinky play. She'd been with Mr. Buck long enough that she might as well move in with how often she stayed over. But the way people looked at her, how they poked and prodded her while the ram stood besides her, like she was a product being shown off, made her feel as though the cloak and mask weren't even there. In the back of her mind, she knew she should be ashamed of how she was being treated.

But it was the opposite. Kat wanted to be touched. To be fiddled with like some toy with a 'try me' button. Made all the better by the leash around her neck, directing her where to go next. If this was the before-party, she couldn't imagine what the after party would be like.

"Eyes up." She gazed into him, underneath the shadow of a staircase in the back corner. What had been a solid and plain face had softened with a smile as he took her chin. "Enjoying yourself? Don't speak, just nod." Kat nodded, finding some resistance in his grasp. "Good, good. The main event is going to start soon, and I need you to know what's going to happen. Mistakes are...costly."

His explanation bounced around her brain as the horn sounded off. Guests and their slaves made their way down the corridors to a large ballroom. Kat stood by her master's side, but made an effort to peek at her surroundings. Of note, there was a second floor, or a viewing platform not unlike that of a theater. A lone figure stood atop it, but vanished out of sight the second her eyes looked away.

Darkness enveloped the room. Kat felt her leash strain tight, but steady, reminding her where her master stood. A large column of light shone in the middle, with a lone hooded figure standing front and center. "Good evening, my friends." The voice said, echoing off the walls despite the casual tone it carried. "I am so fortunate to be surrounded by you all tonight. And you have brought favors, how lovely. Slaves, step forward into the light."

Kat moved the second she saw other hooded figures step forward, stopping in the edge of the column neck and neck with other slaves. Closer to the central figure, she noted a particular shine to the mask, as though made from silver or platinum over the gold color her master had worn. "Remove your cloaks and nadu." Following others, Kat respectfully dropped her cloak behind her, revealing to the crowd her curves. The variety amongst the slaves surprised her, from hunks and bombshells, to skinny frames and thicc girls or dadbodded men. The mouse beside her was a frail one, easily mistaken for a flat girl if not for the metal chastity cage around his cock.

The position came naturally, thanks to many nights at her master's feet. Her knees to the floor and ass against her ankles, Kat had her back straight and head held high but eyes cast downward. Her hands rested on her thighs, palms up and open for everyone to see. "My, my, my," The figure said, pacing around the circle of slaves, "Such a fine assortment this evening. I'm fortunate to have friends with such varied tastes in my home." Each step was slow, taking her time to examine every little detail of a slave before moving onto the next. Kat's throat tightened, her heartbeat rang in her ears as she waited.

"Up." The command reached her, but it took a second or two to register. At that moment, Kat found herself thinking about how well the tiger's feet were. A top notch manicure. She rose, and through what little peripheral vision she had, noticed that no other slave stood with her. Had she made a mistake? Panic set in, freezing her in place while a sharp claw pressed between her breasts and dragged up to her chin. No blood flowed, no cuts, but the pain dug deep as she held herself in place. "Eyes forward." She met deep crimson eyes at the command, hidden behind the platinum mask atop a feminine tiger's face. This was Mistress Zyz, Bagshot had told her, and she was smiling with confidence Kat could only dream off.

She did not expect the kiss. Mistress Zyz's supple lips pressed against hers, her warmth draining. Kat felt her legs soften, her joints weaken as the tiger held her in place by just the chin. How long their lips touched, she couldn't say, feeling deprived the moment she broke away. "Nadu." The smilodon kneeled back in position before she realized it, her mind stunned by what had just happened. The only thing that moved were her ears, twitching at the murmurs hidden in the crowd.

"They say each year will be your year. Well, this year isn't your year my friends, it is mine. And I wish you all the best under my shadow." Mistress Zyz cast off her robe, revealing the full figured tigress underneath. Clapping her hands together, she smiled and called out, "Let the festivities begin!"

Kat heard people move behind her. Gold-masked guests surrounded the party slaves, some inspecting their options, others grabbing one by the leash immediately to drag them off. When she felt her leash tugged, she looked up expecting to see her master. Instead, she met face to face with the rich bunny couple from before. "Crawl," The man said, his round body fitting well in his suit as he pulled her leash along. As much as she wanted her master, Kat followed the command, her knees and hands against the marble floor, with eyes focusing on the expensive footwear of both rabbits.

"His first event in years and he gets lucky. Unbelievable," Scoffed the lady rabbit, her hands crossed in her tight blue dress. "I knew we should have brought someone."

"And risk hiring a new babysitter? You know Charles loves Debby. She sings to him so sweetly." The husband said. He tugged her leash hard, pulling Kat up and pointing to a wall. "Face against it, slut. Ass up." She wasn't given time to nod, being shoved roughly by the wife to grow intimate with the white paint across from it. Still, she followed and pushed her ass out before the couple, picking who touched it just by the feel.

The husband had a stronger grip, making an effort to knead at her folds between his fingers. The wife meanwhile had smaller hands, but a more sadistic touch, dragging her nails across Kat's body as if to draw a map of pain and discomfort. "The only peep I want to hear from you is a thank you," The wife said with a giggle, followed by the quickest and sharpest slap across the smilodon's backside that she swore it'd been a whip.

"T-Thank you, ma'am!" Kat cried out. The husband struck next, his wide hand casting a large ripple across her ass. "Thank you, sir!"

"Oh, she can tell the difference." The wife mused aloud, "Bagshot trained her well."

"Perception is not endurance, my dear." The husband spanked her again, "And I want to see how red this bubbly butt is when she finally cries." Every hit in their barrage was answered with a proper thank you, but more than once Kat mistook one for the other. The pain clouded her mind, and she grew little time to brace for strikes as they fell faster. From the corner of her eye, she'd noticed a small crowd watching the rabbits tan her backside, some even jeered for the same to be done to her breasts.

They had their chance. Kat found no point to rest between masters and mistresses. Her ass still throbbed as a badger with delicate fingers twisted, pulled, and nipped at her nipples. They burned while her tongue dug deep into a mare's cunt. Whips, bindings, floggers, even forced masturbation, nothing was off the table in what was done to her.

And not once had Bagshot appeared. In the blur she still watched for him, hoping her master would claim her from the wild debauchery despite her own burning desire to be used and abused more. "Well, well, well, someone is having fun." Catherine's hand gripped her matted face, holding the smilodon tight as she smiled. "Are we having fun, dear?"

Kat nodded, tired but truthful.

"Good, good. On your knees." Kat rested on the floor, seeing the effeminate mouse from before kneeling beside her. Catherine lounged back into a cushioned chair and unzipped herself, revealing a sizable cock that pulsed with desire and release from its polyester prison. "Dig in and share now, both of you." The doberman pulled both leashes with one hand, dragging the two towards her knotted cock.

She'd never shared a dick before. Its size helped keep her and the mouse from bumping into each other immediately, with her focusing on suckling the head as he massaged her balls with his tongue. But when they worked the shaft, their faces met, as though trying and failing to kiss one another. "Yes, that's my good little sluts," Catherine cooed, "Get it nice and wet for momma." Fingers dug into Kat's skull, gripping her hair tight to keep her focused. "Bagshot must have spent a lot of time training that mouth of yours. Or you're just a talented blowjob queen."

The smilodon quivered at the backhanded compliment, reaching between her legs in the hopes for the orgasm she'd been denied. "Ah, ah, ah," The doberman chidded, pulling both pets off only to bat her cock against Kat's face. "Slaves don't touch themselves unless told. Maybe I should give your master my smith's number. They make excellent cages and belts for unruly slaves. Like with my adorable River." Peering down, Kat noticed the golden lined small cage locked tight against the mouse's cock, and the small clear pool underneath him. "He used to be a masturbation addict," Catherine whispered, loud enough for the mouse to blush. "So I offered to help cure him. Now I'm not so sure he can even orgasm with his hand anymore. Not that he will, since I find cages to be an adorable fashion item."

"Mistress Briar?" Kat, Catherine, and River looked to the right, finding a rhino dressed in a tight black suit and tie, and a black mask over her head.

"Yes?" The doberman asked, letting her head fall back but carrying a small, if annoyed, frown.

The rhino bowed her head. "Apologies for the interruption, but Mistress Zyz has requested the smilodon."

"Really? Pity for me then." With a sigh, she turned over Kat's leash to the rhino, "I knew I should have grabbed you early. Say hello to Bagshot for me, if you can." Her last giggle left Kat confused as the rhino tugged her leash. She stayed on her fours, keeping her head down and following the direction of the pull. Soon the marble floors gave way to carpet, followed by steps up to the second floor.

What could Mistress Zyz want of her? And where was Bagshot? She'd not seen him since before stepping into the light. None of these thoughts removed the realization that she crawled through someone's mansion like a feral beast, but at this point she'd gotten used to it. Hopefully her arousal wouldn't stain the rug.

Hearing the creak of a wooden door, Kat snuck a peak at the room they entered. Wider than her apartment, with extravgencies laid about as though she'd walked into a museum. Paintings, busts, each depicting the same tiger whom she had to assume was Mistress Zyz.

Then she heard the creaking of the bed, and the gagged moans of her master.

"Mistress Zyz," The rhino bowed, "I have brought the slave you requested."

The creaking didn't stop, nor did the wet slaps of what Kat knew all too well. She waited in agony, her mind picturing the scene playing out while she could do nothing but stare at the ground. It slowed to a stop, with a feminine moan and a schlick sound of her pulling off. "Good, good," Mistress Zyz said, "You may leave us." Once the rhino vacated, the tigress stepped up before Kat and tugged her leash. "Look up, dear."

She did, eyes drawn to the immaculate naked tigress. No, not completely naked, she still carried the mask that made her red eyes pop vibrantly. Scaling down, Kat stopped at Mistress Zyz's crotch, noticing the small drip of seed flowing through it.

"Let's see just how pretty you are." The tigress pulled off Kat's mask, "Oh my, my. Baggy, you have an eye for taste." Her master's response came tired and garbled. Zyz chuckled, "Are you enjoying the party, slave? First times are always difficult." Despite everything, Kat nodded.

"Wonderful." The tigress clapped. "Now, I imagine you have some questions. But why don't you get a better view?" Mistress Zyz pulled Kat up and slipped behind her, giving the smilodon an unobstructed view of her master. Bagshot had been stripped naked, his limbs locked by restraints and spread to the four corners of the bed. Blindfolded and gagged, he had only his ears to listen in on everything. And then there was his cock, still glistening from Mistress Zyz's juices while standing in attention.

"Better?" Zyz asked, molesting Kat's sensitive nipples. "Confused?" She nodded, "Good. I imagine you're not used to seeing Baggy here bound up like this. Usually it's the other way around, right? Well, my sweet little marshmallow, allow me to share with you an open secret: Every guest at this party was once a slave to me or my associates. I've known Baggy for a long time, back when his fur wasn't so gray and he had two legs." How old was Mistress Zyz? At first, Kat figured she was younger, or at least aged gracefully compared to her master. But how she spoke told something much different.

"Do you think you're special, Kat?" Mistress Zyz asked, one arm reaching around her neck. Kat shook her head, "Good. You know what makes someone special? Earning it. How's your gag reflex?" Kat felt her head forced against Bagshot's cock before she could answer. She opened her mouth in reflex, letting his cock slip down her throat without mercy. Claws held her head firm, pushing her down despite instinctive struggles for air. "Hmm...needs work," The tigress said, unimpressed. Kat's throat ached in agony after four more trips across Bagshot's shaft, coughing mad when the tigress pulled her off. "Be a good dear and keep standing, focusing on me."

Kat watched the tigress climb back onto the bed, her pussy hovering over his cock. She still tasted their mixed musk on her lips, licking them as Mistress Zyz spread her lips and impaled herself across his cock. Jealousy burned with every moan the tigress made, building her rhythm of thrusts and pounds until all Kat could hear were their breaths, the wet slaps, and their creaking bed once again.

That was her master, her cock, the tigress fucked. Kat fought against her urges, her desires as the tigress lost herself in pleasure. Bagshot made no effort to hide his ecstasy, with only the gag hindering anything he could be saying. They fucked as if Kat wasn't even in the room, a mere ghost watching.

Master Bagshot threw his head back and cried aloud. Mistress Zyz laughed and shuddered, stopping with deep breaths to calm herself before pulling off with a soft plop. Her master's seed ran down the tigress's legs, something Zyz made obvious as she curled her finger for Kat to come over.

Resting on her knees, Kat crawled to meet her face against the tigress's lower lips. Unprompted, she dug into Mistress Zyz, using her tongue to dig out her master's seed from the mysterious woman. "Not a peep or fit. I can see why Baggy likes you," Mistress Zyz cooed, softly coming the smilodon's hair. "Baggy, if you don't treat this one right, I might just have to take her off your hands."

As much as she didn't want that, Kat crotch tingled at the thought.