FSE

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Captured

Part One

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Written by Arian Mabe (Amethyst Mare)

Commissioned by Adagiodjiang

_ _

_ _

"Huff... Danna! Danna, climb up my back! Hurry - I'm getting you out of here!"

Hung growled, the Perro, a dog-like anthro creature, holding his shield high as he retreated. It had all happened so quickly, the tides of battle turning, the Reunion movement overpowering them, roaring, snarling, pounding them back. His brown and white fur was mostly obscured by his light armour, though it was flexible, like layered cloth, sheltering his body while allowing the canine-type a full range of motion. Yet it was not to be, Hung growling, his eyes intent, a rain of arrows hammering down, surely tipped with poison. Their defence... He raked in a breath, eyes watering, the city around him beaten down, surely by the last earthquake that had taken place, buildings open to the elements, rubble filling the streets. They'd walked right into the trap, the Reunion movement beating them back and back and back.

"Is this it?"

Aak met his eyes levelly, the feline-type creature that he regarded as his brother, though even Hung knew that the matter was hopeless.

"No... No, it is not it."

His friends. His comrades. Out, out... He had to get them out, all out, somehow.

"Take cover!"

Artillery fire blasted forth, erupting as if from nowhere, though he had to duck, had to force himself to face the rain, though it was the ground shaking under his feet with every explosion, every impact, that set his heart racing. They launched their weapons, shattering buildings, rubble catastrophically raining down, a storm of concrete and worse that was as lethal as the attack itself.

The floor exploded, Hung gasping, the world slowing around him. He'd hefted Danna over the wall, his comrades fleeing, and Aak was with them too, the last thing Hung saw before unconsciousness claimed him that of the feline type disappearing, fear in his eyes.

But it would all be all right, as long as his friends were free.

The boom of the explosion hit him a moment after the rush of hot air from the blast. His fur ruffled and his eyes closed, yet he was already gone.

Not dead, no. But darkness claimed him, his head smacking into a wall, knocked out cold.

Only waking would show him what was yet to come...

But Hung was not going to like it one bit as the enemy swarmed him.

*

When Hung awoke, it was not gently or gracefully. It was with water splashed on his face, the dog coughing and twisting, though there was nowhere for him to go with his hands tied behind the back of what seemed to be a metal chair.

He groaned, not wanting to come around. No... No, it wasn't worth it, not now that he had been captured. His heart pounded, an ache deep in his gut, the taste of blood in his mouth. He hoped that it was his own, even though it would have been unlikely, considering how they'd been fighting, to be that of anyone else's.

Oh, please let it be mine...

_ _

His heart pulled for them. Some said that Hung cared too much for his friends to be a leader, but the dog didn't know anything else, his loyalty absolute, his care for them something that could not be simply switched off at any given time or moment. The blurry faces of others before him filtered into view, his vision drifting and shivering, as if he was struggling to find a point on which to focus. It didn't help much that his desire to come back to the world of the living and the waking simply wasn't there.

"Speak, mutt!"

A light, on some kind of standing, flexible pole shone in his face, forcing him to squint, grunting and gasping, his chest heaving as if he had come up from deep down in the water, somewhere far beyond where he thought it was possible to go. It felt like that, coming back from unconsciousness, though the crowded room stank of sweat and cigarettes, the dirt of a movement curling around him. It was all familiar to him, even as Hung screwed up his face.

"Why is Rhodes Island Pharmaceuticals getting in the way of our plans? Tell us! Or it'll be the end of you!"

A fox anthro snarled, lips trembling down the line of his teeth, though Hung only smirked and pulled back. As if he was going to tell them fucking anything.

As long as his friends had gotten away... Well, that was all that mattered to him. He couldn't worry about a damn thing else when they were what he cared about, their wellbeing, their safety, his shoulders relaxing a little. He could take anything that they threw at him, down there in the figurative pit of hell, if he knew that those he cared about were safe.

It was why he did what he did, after all, day in and day out. There was no other reason for it, not in his heart, fighting for righteousness, to make the world, in some small way, something of a better place.

"You'll not get anything out of me..."

"Fuck..."

A stoat swore and threw his hands up, though Hung chanced that there was some rather undue frustration in him. What did that mean? His curiosity had been perked, though there would have been more still if only he had not ached so deeply, not wanting to take account of his injuries, not even then.

"It's useless! We can't do anything with him alone - he's not the one we need!"

His ears perked, though out of interest as they were not talking to him. What did that mean? Oh, he wanted to know, hanging his head and striving to appear as if he was not, in fact, listening intently to them.

"We should have got them all, the plan was perfect!" The stoat swore, though others gave him warning looks. "This operation was a failure, catching him alone."

"Hah!" Hung grinned and his tail would have wagged if it had not been pressed against the back of the chair. "Just me? Well, you should be pleased then... You got the best of the best! And all the rest are gone - gone, gone, gone!"

The stoat made as if to take a swing at him, but he was held back, which only fuelled Hung's jubilation even more, his ecstasy at knowing that every last one of his comrades had escaped. That was all he'd wanted, even as he laughed and threw insults out, riling them up.

He knew that he wasn't getting out of there in a good state anyway and, well...his tongue was rather apt at running away with him at the most inopportune of times. With the hard legs of the chair scraping across a concrete floor, some would have said that he did well enough on his own at getting himself into sticky situations.

"Come on," he mocked, smirking as he cocked his head. "Can you not do any better than that? The Reunion... Hah! Not like you're "reunioning" anything here!"

An insult did not have to make sense for it to work, not even as the fox snatched him by the shoulders, claws biting into his flesh. Hung ground his teeth together, clenching his jaw, solely to keep his smirk in place. He didn't want to show the mutt just how much it fucking hurt.

"Why is it involved?" He demanded, yet there was a chill in his tone that sent a similar one down Hung's spine. "Tell us... Perhaps then we will allow you life."

Hung shook his head. As if he even knew that. Rhodes Island Pharmaceuticals... He didn't know what to think about that one, good and bad bundled up into one package where it came to the Infected. Well, they'd cursed it for being peaceful, for healing them, the plague digging into the souls of the people. The reality of it there, however, was that they were just as disgusted with those of Rhodes Island as the infected people. He didn't blame them.

They could never have been on the same side, however, not when Hung withdrew from violence, using it only as a last resort, defending himself. It was not as if he was going to lie down and let his comrades fall, after all, not when he could do something about it as a Perro, strong and loyal. Maybe his traits were too dog-like, but he didn't care. It was who he was. And why he was against the Reunion, the terrorist organisation that was treated as such - fairly, in his eyes.

"You..."

He froze. A stout feline with an anthro tiger shape seemed to loom when he was bound and locked in place, stripes standing out starkly against his orange fur.

"You... You wouldn't understand us anyway. You're not one of the Infected. You don't understand the power...or the pain."

He smirked, a chill running down Hung's spine.

Fuck.

_ _

"We can only show our pain...but letting you see, first-hand, how it feels. How does that sound...Perro?"

Hung scowled, shaking his head. He didn't like the sick churn of his stomach. He didn't like it all one fucking bit.

"Fuck off, fuzz-licker, this isn't my battle. We were only defending ourselves - and you think you're the authority on everything here?"

They, however, ignored him, words streaming forth, rambling, ranting, though that was just fear getting the better of Hung. Something bad was going to happen, something really bad, something that churned and clawed at the pit of his stomach, telling him that he had to get out of there. Though as much as he thrashed and howled, fighting the bonds, there was nothing more that he could do, not as the tiger smirked wickedly above him.

What Hung loathed the most, however, was the fact that there was a lick of humour in the tiger's tone. There was cruelty there, something darker, something more insidious, something that clawed into him, inciting his fight or flight response. When he couldn't fight back, flight took hold, snarling through his mind, like a pack of hounds with which he had to go.

"Ohhhh, look at him - maybe he already knows how good it feels, fellas!"

What the fuck? Why were they laughing at him? The bare overhead lightbulb swung back and forth, casting a strange light over the room, crowding grins, sharp teeth on show, the predatory air of the crowd closing in around him.

Hot. Stifling. Inescapable. Hung gasped as they crowded around, hands groping, grabbing, snatching up parts of him that he had never paid mind to.

"See, maybe he is just another Infected, so fucking needy, all like the rest of them," someone goaded, though they were a disembodied voice in the flow of the crowd. "Just needy... Like the rest of them - us! Yes!"

They cheered, relishing in what they were, how they pushed back on the world, all the discrimination that they had faced, time after time, year after year. That was all they could do, all they could try, though they thought that they were pushing for the rightful cause. Everyone who fought thought that they were doing the right thing.

"Horny slut..."

"Give him what he wants!"

They were crazy - all of them! All to think that he was actually turned on by all that? But maybe it was another jest, another way to rile him up, to throw him off his game, making him think that there was a lesser threat there than he had imagined. Or a greater one, just not the one that he had expected from the Infected.

He had not been against them...not really. Not in the sense that it was not as if they could be held accountable for falling to the infection, though they very much could be for passing it on. That was what he objected to, those that spread out, trying to infect more, to make the world their own, all the Infected - and all the problems that came with being brutalised in that manner.

"Get him, boys!"

Hands clawed at him, the males closing in, untying him beside the rope around his wrists, rough and coarse and digging in crudely. He thrashed and fought, yet was still weakened from the blast earlier, his mind slipping, even his heaving back and forth doing little at all.

"Let's see what you're packing..."

They tore open his trousers, though they had already been ripped, almost leaving nothing to the imagination. That had been the least of his worries before they had locked their hungry gazes on him quite in that way.

Did they... He heaved, bile rising in the back of his throat, so many hungry, desperate eyes locked onto him. Hung panted, tongue lolling out, his body trying, in the best way it knew how, to dissipate heat from it. He had to pant, had to get it out, sweating from the pads of his palms, like paws. That was where the sweat glands were located, though he didn't want to think about that, not as he was held there, naked, his cock soft and hanging, nothing to look at.

Did he want to fucking be something to look at? Hung groaned. It was all so confusing, everything twisted, wrapped up in deviation from the norm that he simply couldn't wrap his head around. He wanted to get out, to do something, anything, yet he had been rendered nothing more than a passive player in the heart of his own story.

But what was he to fucking do? He knew how to fight - but that was with weapons! Without anything in his hands, he felt as helpless and as useless as a new-born pup, his eyes still squinting and shut, not even able to take in the world around him. The anthro tiger laughed and shoved him in his chest, forcing him down on his knees. Hung's heart pounded. The hard, concrete floor pressing up against him, however, was not the only hard thing he would have to deal with that night.

"I'm sure you've got plenty to show us, mutt," the feline mocked him, "but overseeing the base, well, it gives me more than a few liberties. How do you feel about being used, Hung?"

The Perro clenched his jaw, a low growl rising behind.

Don't answer that.

_ _

He didn't intend to. But sometimes that little voice inside his head had good things to say too, wise things. He should have listened to it before rushing into battle that time. Maybe then things would have been different, though that was more difficult than ever to change. There were too many things, too many factors at play.

"Used..." The feline breathed, leaning over him, his face filling Hung's vision. "A sex slave. Public, always on show. We need someone for those here to use and abuse, someone that doesn't have to be thought about, beyond the most basic of bodily needs. Sometimes, not even then. That seems like a fitting end to one who is against the Infected."

Hung's mouth moved, opening and closing without sound coming out, his head aching, pounding, spinning. The ache there was like nothing he had ever experienced before, not as he felt like he was thrashing, screaming, while he was frozen in place.

No...

No, they wouldn't do that to him.

They were trying to get information, surely, nothing more than that. It was to scare him, to make him think that they were going to do something more, something worse, to him, that the torture was only just beginning.

He had nothing to say, however, nothing to do with Rhodes Island, the pharmaceutical company. There was nought that they could give them by way of information, not like that, grunting deep in the back of his throat, clenching his jaws against the scream that wanted to tear itself free.

"No..." He said aloud, his voice stronger than he had thought himself capable of. "No, I shall not. You can't do this to me."

There was no more that he could say, not as they laughed, their raucous laughter bouncing off the walls.

"Yeah, we'll see about that Perro," the tiger mocked him, tail swishing, mocking him even with the sway of his body, so much more in control, in power. "It's not like you have any say in the matter, so you can fight back, growl, say whatever you want... It's not going to make any fucking difference in the long run."

His heart pounded, blood roaring in his ears. He was forced to sit back on his heels, his hips pushed up in a way, though there was nothing for him to do, shoulders pinned, bent back over his own body. He was bare and exposed, his soft shaft all on show, though the tiger laughed again as he poured a considerable volume of lube over his own dick.

What? Hung gasped, maw parting, though they just wanted to observe him, to watch him, to see just how his body could be used, a sense of greed in their eyes even as every last one of them towered. There was no way for them not to loom when they were up there and he was down on the ground, reeling from the exposure of the tiger's fat cock. Did he mean it? What was he going to do with that? It was a beast of a cock as he was bent over the chair, heaving, panting, trying to drag in very much needed breath into his lungs. Yet nothing of his body seemed to be working right, his ankles kicked wide, his tail yanked up high.

No...

No, it couldn't be. Though the horror of it all was coming anyway as the crowd cheered, the room heaving with sweaty, hungry bodies. All hungry for his debasement, his use, breaking him down in any way that they knew how. To have a public sex slave too would be a hot thing indeed for all of them, something to relieve their needs of being pent-up there, so often cooped up for fear of the Infected. Some understood that, those that had been Infected against their will, though there was little more that could be done on that matter.

"Trained... Used... How does that sound, Hung? Better for you, perhaps. Can't be anything worse than your old life."

There was something on him, something slathered on his arse, something that affected him, much to his humiliation. The tiger laughed, whiskers trembling, though his stout and stocky build put him head and shoulders above Hung, his muscular physique giving him more power than may have originally been let on.

"I'm not gay - don't you fucking do this to me!"

Hung still had fight in him, all that he could throw back at them, the last shreds of his defiance, all that he could dredge up from deep within his soul. He heaved and grunted, tongue lashing the side of his muzzle, drooling too much, fear getting the better of him. It was sickening and chilling, turning his stomach over, though it was not a fate that Hung would have ever expected for himself.

Something that they'd poured on him made his cock ache and throb, though it was an erection that was entirely against his will, his cock pulsing and full of blood. The tip gleamed with a hint of light moisture, the mere idea of pre-cum lingering there - but that was not like him! That was not at all like him, not how he got hard, not how he was. But he didn't know how to protest that, heaving, whimpering, trying to push away even as, against his will, his hips rocked back, feet scrabbling under him. His body wanted something different to what his mind did, both sides in conflict, the scent of fear in the air, clawing at his nose, though it mingled with sweat.

"Fuck him hard!"

"Make him ours!"

"Yeah!"

"Sex slave! Sex slave! Sex slave!"

How could they have fallen as far as to think that that was okay? To do that to him, to anyone, though Hung doubted, with a sick twist in the back of his mind, that he was not the first.

He didn't want to think of what had come before. He didn't want to consider those that might well have been in the same position before.

With his arse shoved in the air as he was pinned over the chair, there was nothing that Hung could do, more helpless than ever as that huge shaft pressed up to his hole.

"Hope you like screaming, mutt," the tiger mocked him. "You're going to be doing a lot of it until you learn how to accept our cocks!"

And more would come too as he howled, that huge length slamming into him, deeper and harder, need coursing through him. He didn't want to acknowledge it, not as bile churned in his stomach, muscles tensed and locked up. Yet he couldn't move, could only brace right where he was, his body aching deeply, the strain immense. It was not like having sex himself, when he was the one penetrating a female partner, though that had been a while back.

It was worse, so much worse, his body screaming, pain cutting through him deeply, as if it was not to be set aside. The burning of his anal ring throbbed and pulsed and Hung twisted weakly, though he barely moved back and forth a couple of inches. He couldn't do anything else, not as the tiger laughed, overpowering him, driving in hard and fast, not caring for Hung's comfort as he used every inch of his cock that he had.

There was no slow and soft, no gentle for Hung. Only coarse, powerful thrusts that demanded so much more of him than he thought he should ever have been able to give. His backside ached deeply, his jaws agape, though Hung was not even aware that there was a full length driving into him, straining him open, forcing his arse to give up everything around that length.

It pounded him furiously, not feeling as if it was attached to the tiger himself, moment after moment snarling through him. He was not an aggressive Perro, not really, not in any way, yet the tiger fucked him as if his arse was the most inviting thing of all. He tried to relax, though horror pulsed through him, making him want to grind back, though he didn't understand it. There was something wrong, something very wrong, his grip on reality shifting and pushing.

Suffering... Pain... Abuse...

That didn't matter. Nothing mattered. Not when he was there, panting, grunting, heaving, trying not to let tears seep from his eyes, as much as they moistened. Closing his eyes against the horror of his world, what everything had narrowed to, he gasped, trying to drag breath into his lungs, though it was not that easy.

"Unff... The bitch is tight... Hah, what a bitch, not even a stud dog. Just a bitch dog - maybe he's even in heat He acts like it!"

Hung tried to fight back, tried to say something, though the words stuck in his throat, the huge length of meat grinding up against his prostate. He knew what it was, he knew what the pleasure was there that rang forth, though that did not mean that he had to think about it. He could ignore it, shove it down, force it away, not let it push into the limelight.

But it was there... Even through the tiger's ardent mockery. There was a need there, a rising pleasure, however much Hung did not want to pay it any mind.

"Unff..."

No... Fuck! He didn't want to be horny, didn't want to feel as if he needed it, pleasure burning through the pain, searing it away as if it was a wildfire ripping through the last of the grass, as dry as kindling after a long, hot summer. The tightness was incredible, in a good way and a bad way. It was as if every one of his senses had been opened up so that he was forced to take everything in, to think of everything all at once, heaving and panting, his chin tipping down, tongue lolling out.

Just a bitch... The feline laughed as he powered into him, stroke after stroke, even as others around them crowded in, naked or half-naked. It was all the same to Hung when it was solely rampantly hard cocks wanting him, pressing up to his muzzle and smearing him with their stink. Hung reeled from them, twisting back and forth, his back arching, yet he didn't want to grind back on the feline's cock either as the striped bastard pounded him for all he was worth.

"Unff... No... Fuck! No!"

He howled, twisting, yet the hardness of his cock was not to be denied. And neither were they as a mask was forced over his head. It left some of his face exposed, but looked as if it could cover his eyes too, if attachments were laid over it. It was more of a muzzle, in a way - but the kind of muzzle that rammed a fucking ring into his maw and forced him to hold his mouth open for their dicks. It hooked painfully into the corners of his mouth, though his comfort was something that he would soon come to understand was no longer a concern of anyone who held any power at all over him in the world.

He was there to be used... They fucked his mouth, horrifyingly, a Perro like him first of all, grinding in deeply as if he'd never had a mouth like Hung's before. Hung did not know, did not care, only tried to twist away from the pleasure, the wicked pleasure that he wanted nothing more than to see gone, long gone. He didn't need it, didn't want it...

But his cock was still hard.

"Look at this little bitch," the Perro above him taunted, dragging his head up and down his cock. "Moaning like a whore... Maybe you wanted to be a public use slave all along!"

They teased him, abused him, humiliated him. All Hung wanted to do was to tell them that he didn't want any of it, none at all, yet he didn't have either the breath or the words to do anything about it, whimpering and grunting, losing himself. Slip by slip, step by step, the only place for Hung to go was down, debasement and degradation getting the better of him.

It was the first of many sessions, yet Hung was not to know that, not wanting to look ahead at his future. His friends, yes... He had to think about them, that they were safe, that he was doing everything he was doing there for them, all for them. He had to be passionate there, had to know that they were safe, which was all the Perro could cling to.

"Stupid whore... Can't even suck a dick right!"

The Perro thrust and ground, holding his head in place, for Hung clearly was not giving him the attention he needed. And that was fair - it was not as if Hung wanted to suck cock. Did he even like guys? No... No, that was not something he'd had to think about before, too caught up in things going on in the world, all that demanded his attention, though battles and defending his comrades was hardly going to be a concern to him going forward.

The lewd slop of the canine's cock disappearing into his mouth filled the room, a smooth shaft that craved as much attention as Hung's did. He ached for it, all so desperately, heaving, grunting, panting, desire catching up with him, the canine barely remembering where he was. Maybe it would all be easier if he let himself slip away, if he didn't think about it. After all, they liked him as a bitch to use and no more than that, only a bitch because of his race.

His head pounded. He didn't want that, no... No. But what did it matter anymore what he wanted? His desires had been cast out the window as if it had never been a concern at all, a cock pressing down over his tongue, throbbing with urgent need. Yet Hung was in no position to complain at all as the dominant Perro moaned, exploding over his tongue, flooding his mouth with cum. The worst humiliation was yet to come, even with the feline pounding his arse, as the canine drew back to spurt his cum over his muzzle, dripping down and slick on his nose.

When the Perro had finished, leaving a stink of slick cum painting his muzzle, an Elafia, a deer anthro, took his place. The longer, slightly slimmer cock was easier to take at first but no more so when it pushed into the back of his throat. His muzzle was not that long, after all, and the desire for it all was not there when it came to sucking dick, reeling, confused by the torturous pleasure from his backdoor entrance.

"Unff..."

"Oh, look, the bitch is getting into it!"

"Fuck that bitch!"

"Make him cum!"

"Such a weak bitch!"

Bitch, bitch, bitch, bitch... Was that all they knew to call him? His body burned with humiliation, wishing himself anywhere except where he was. But there was nowhere for him to go, nowhere for him to escape to, not as his mouth was filled with Elafia cock, the pink flesh claiming his muzzle, forcing his tongue down and out of the way with every thrust.

The bigger problem there was the Feline's big cock as he pounded Hung's tail hole harder and faster, reaching around. Hung whined plaintively around the deer's dick in his held open muzzle, but there was nothing he could do as the tiger mocked him.

"Fucking whore... Think you can just get hard and horny with my cock in your arse and get away with it?"

No... No, he really did not. Not as that paw jerked him off crudely and roughly, though the pull of pleasure that came along with it was more than Hung could bear. Fuck, why did it have to feel so good? Why did it have to make him arch his back like that, as if he was nothing more than the bitch that they called him, begging for more?

What was wrong with him?

"You will be infected, Perro... Oripathy. There is no escape for you, not from here. This is where you...unff...belong now. A sex whore slave to everyone here, forced to please. But I think a bitch like you will learn how to love it, in time."

He didn't want to think of that, closing his eyes against the horror. It was the one tiny protest left to him as his body was forced into pleasure, experiencing and acknowledging everything that had been thrust upon him. He didn't have that choice anymore and having that choice ripped from him changed things in a way that he didn't want to think about.

He was no longer a fighter. Lowly. Used. His cock ached. He hated the part of him that wanted to cum as he was pinned in place, two bodies sweaty as they fucked him rampantly from either end, both at once. The tiger let out a roar as he ejaculated, reaching his high in a flurry, the taste of cum filling his muzzle too. The Feline's large, rough hands masturbated his cock as if he had a goal in mind, as if there was a greater, deeper humiliation that he wanted to send Hung all the way down to.

If there was a hell...that was where Hung was going. Lost, confused, broken. A Perro who didn't know where his worth lay anymore. There was no sense in him fighting, not as he weakly jerked, fighting the pleasure, twisting faintly... It was useless. As they pinned him down between them, the tiger's cum seeping into his tail hole, the tiger forced him closer and closer to climax.

And there was no holding out from it, no matter how much he wanted to, no matter how much he wanted to hold onto that very last tiny shred of dignity he thought he had had. He squeezed his eyes closed but the throb of that cock in his maw kept him in reality, emptying its load too at the very moment that he passed the point of no return.

It was not soft, it was not gentle, it was not relief - not any true relief, in any case. It was just an ejaculation, pleasure rushing upon him, warming him through, his toes curling even as he struggled to brace with his feet, to grip onto anything he could, all to keep himself rooted where he thought he was safe. But he wasn't safe anywhere, not as his aching dick throbbed in climax, even though his orgasm was not as impressive as the Feline's. It didn't matter all that much anymore, not even the humiliation of being forced to swallow a load of creamy cum that time, slick and clinging to his tongue. It worked its way around his teeth as his tongue lashed plaintively, the deer moaning and rolling their hips, thinking that he was enjoying it more than he had let on.

"Oh, yeah... The bitch likes it, I can tell. This is going to be the best fucking sex slave we've ever had..."

Hung shuddered. No... Not him. Not broken. Not him.

But it was him, not knowing why the musky taste of the semen, thick and cloying, settled him a little. Maybe it was the repetitive act of swallowing, he thought to himself, though that was not enough of an answer to him, not in that moment. Cum in his arse, cum down his throat... Did any of it need any differentiation anymore? Why did it make him feel at ease? The burning pain was still in his tail hole and his throat was still sore and bruised, but there was something there, something that settled him...

Something that made him feel as if he had come home? He didn't know, could not know, but he would be forced to know and understand, all in time.

"You will soon be in the same camp as the Infected," the Feline announced with a smirk, his whiskers quivering, cock still buried in Hung's arse. "Useless for anything, bitch... You may not have the information we want, but don't worry. You will still be useful to us."

Hung trembled, his body aching. How much could he take?

"Very useful, indeed."

Perhaps not as much as he would have liked to, to hold out, all in the hope of rescue.

As there wasn't one coming for him.

*

The Feline was not using an empty threat when he said that Hung was to be a sex slave. He had expected torture - but not a kind of torture like that. No... Oh, no. No...

No, it was so much worse than Hung could ever have imagined, strung up in an empty room with no windows, only darkness. Darkness that closed in around him, bar for the person who came to feed and water him from time to time. He didn't want to think about the waste that marked him, how he was forced to soil himself with his arms bound above his head.

He was allowed to stand, his feet flat on the ground when he could have been forced up onto the tips of his toes. That would have been a blessing if not for the chastity device they'd strapped around his cock, forcing him into a cock cage of sorts that never allowed him to achieve a true erection. It was too small for him but it was not as if that was the sort of thing that he could just ask for a bigger size in. Hung couldn't ask for anything anymore.

He tried. He snarled, he howled, he threatened, he insulted. He did everything possible to show them that they had not and could not break his spirit, no matter how hard they tried.

It did nothing.

They still strung him up there, training him to take bigger and bigger cocks by progressively increasing the size of the dildos and butt plugs they shoved up his arse. A harness was fitted around his crotch and between his legs to ensure that the toys could not be pushed out either, vibrating away through pulsating cycles that he could never get away from.

Hung didn't think he was allowed to sleep. In the darkness, meals at erratic times, time lost all meaning. In hindsight, he would understand that that was very much deliberate. The Feline too, the tiger, came by for training. Those were far from the highlights of his day.

Hung groaned, rocking his hips, helpless to do anything other than try to thrust, try to get a sliver more of what his body craved so very terribly. The biggest dildo came with a built-in vibrator buzzed away inside him, so tight that he thought he was going to cream right there and then. Any orgasm that he was forced into, however, was a kind of false one, one that left him needier than ever without any sense of relief in its wake.

They knew how to torture him without actively breaking his body. If Hung had not been the victim, he might have been more impressed than horrified.

"You're not a sapient creature," the Feline said, taking a cane to his arse, leaving long, red welts showing through his fur after each strike. "A sex slave does not think, only serves."

"What are you?"

Hung groaned. He had no answer, none at all, and he knew it was all going to get worse when the Feline yanked the toy from his arse. His hole gaped lewdly in the absence of it but a hard length of Feline shaft was hardly what he wanted to replace it, even though there was a part of him, deep down with the chastity device taking away any true pleasure from him, that said that it felt good too. It felt good-bad, just like it had the first time the tiger had fucked him in front of a crowd, debasing him, the first step in breaking his spirit.

That cock sawed into him more powerfully and easily than it had the first time, the Feline with an arm wrapped around him, dragging him down so that his shoulders burned with the strain against the overhead chains. His shorter, stouter stature gave him more power and a lower centre of balance, allowing him to thrust wildly, erratic, deep strokes of his cock powering into Hung's vulnerable backside. His tail hole clenched reflexively around the tiger's dick, some of his training taking hold already, though it would take days, perhaps even weeks of constant fucking, always in a state of need, for him to come to terms with his senseless abuse.

One fuck after the other, his anal ring always gaping, always strained. Not even his bodily needs, relieving himself, was within his control, everything stripped from him. All Hung could think of was escape, though he barely even noticed when he was released from his standing bondage, instead tied with his hands behind his back. His forearms rested against each other, bound together, his fingers pointing to the elbow of his opposite arm. It was a more comfortable bondage position that could be maintained long-term, though that was not something that Hung was honestly all that clued-up on.

He didn't have to be, not as the Feline turned to training him in oral pleasure.

"Maybe if you do a good job, slave, you'll actually be allowed to cum. No clothes will be yours, however, so get used to being naked."

Hung whimpered, lapping around the Feline's cock. If he did it right, the tiger would leave. That would be a good thing. That gave him some respite.

That was what he told himself, at least, as he fell deeper and deeper, nothing more than a slave to the Feline's whims, even though Hung said that he was fighting back, that he was still trying, even then, that he wanted to be strong, that he could be more than everything they said he was.

He could try. Maybe. But it wasn't all that easy, not easy at all, not as he learned to suck cock, how to deepthroat. The Felines' cock was the first dick that he took into his throat without hacking and gagging, learning to control the reflex, learning to even enjoy it. There had been something in the taste of cum the first time that he'd liked and he was morbidly curious to try more, to learn more, to do more. Maybe it was those tiny scraps of pleasure that he had to cling to, regardless of all else that was happening to him, all so he could survive?

Hung did not know. But that was one of the first true parts of his mental breaking, his sensibility fracturing, slipping away. He tried to fight, but compliance with a master, with someone who acted like they owned him, was not fighting back. It was not the Perro that he had thought he was, though that canine was long gone already.

Hung simply did not know it yet. He didn't have to, as long as his cock ached viciously within the metal of the chastity cage, trying to swell and never able to. If his arsehole was empty of the Feline's cock, it was stuffed full of a toy, though he was trained with ones of different shapes too, even anal beads - anything the tiger had to hand to shove up there.

When Hung gave in, however...there was pleasure. There was the removal of the chastity device and, oh - there were orgasms! The breaking and denial of his climaxes had been the worst thing for him, in the face of so much pressure, pressure that could not be relieved, a pressure pot bubbling over, fit to burst. He boiled and snarled and heaved, but obeying the Feline brought climaxes, his cock free as the tiger pinned him to the floor and fucked him rampantly, his cock sliding easily in and out of the Perro's previously tight hole.

It wasn't tight anymore. It was useful. All the canine needed to be was useful. Useful as he was fucked and rewarded for obeying, for sucking dick, for being obedient, for doing everything and everything the Feline ordered him to do.

It did not stop at sex either. Foot rubs, hand massages, fetching and carrying - even if that part of the training was only in the room that he was trained in, at least to start with. He had to take any cock at a moment, masturbate himself, provide stress relief, even when that meant taking a beating too.

Those were associated with disobedience, the rare time that he grew to turning away, his throat too sore, not wanting to take the Feline's dick into his mouth that time, because it was too much. He'd done too much, he was sure of it, he was tired, he didn't want to. But that was the time he was strapped down and locked back into chastity, edged to faux orgasm multiple times and his arse beaten raw with a leather belt. The smack of leather on his bare arse had echoed through the room, filling it as if there was no escape. And, for Hung, there was no escape to be had.

And then...he was not allowed to ejaculate. He was not locked up in the solid, denying force of the chastity cage, but something similar, something lighter, something that contained him, made from plastic. It was almost more restrictive, as if his cock was off-limits, but was distinctly different from the punishing, metal one. It fit him better, as if it was a sort of reward.

He couldn't ask what it was. That would have been struck down by the Feline, his master. Hung bit his lip, shaking his head.

"If you behave now, you will earn every orgasm."

Positive reinforcement, in a way, but removing the reinforcement so that he had to work for it. Hung did not know. It seemed tricked, convoluted, something that he would never have done. And yet the Perro found himself even more eager to please than ever before.

He sucked dick like a pro, moaning around it as if he had been doing it for the entirety of his adult life. He slavered over it, lapping up the length, savouring the head and the tip, sucking down every drop of pre-cum that was offered to him. Even Hung did not realise how much his mind was broken, how he had fallen, though it had not been easy. The Feline knew how long he had to keep Hung down in the training room, though it would all be worth it to see the sex slave that he had become.

He had to be good. He had to please. If he didn't, he'd be back to the old chastity cage, denied and helpless, craving something that he could never have.

Or could he? Oh, he didn't know, his thoughts not coming in any sensible order, moaning, grunting, sucking load after load down his throat. It was easy to bob his head for that treat of cum, knowing that he craved it, yearned for it, as if it was the only sustenance that he could take down his throat and feel as if he had been made whole from.

He didn't have to understand it. All he had to do was serve. In that way, his existence was simplified.

"You have done adequately, slave."

Hung blinked, looking up, moaning. Had he done well? Had he been a good slave? The Feline smirked, striped tail lashing the air.

"You have earned something, though I would not call it a reward for one as lowly as you."

Hung called it a reward too. He called it such very much as a lovely, Elafia was allowed in, a smirk on her lips, her deer ears quivering.

"Is this the one? I do hope he's as good as you say..."

She spoke as if she was better than him, though it had been so long since Hung had seen a woman that he could not help but moan, presenting himself for her: on his knees, knees splayed out, his hands resting on his thighs, palms up. In all circumstances, regardless of who he was before, he had to be ready to serve.

That was what he was best at, what he was there for.

But his cock was hard, not in chastity anymore, the tiger's dominant hand taking that containment from him, grunting and heaving, a Perro wild with need. Oh, how he craved it, growling softly, though that was merely Hung's passion to serve showing through, his need for that reward.

He was not on top, no... No. Not in that way, even though the Elafia laid back on the ground for him, spreading her long, sexy legs. Oh, they were glorious, yet he was there to serve her, even though there was a reward in it for him too. He groaned aloud, head swimming with lust, passion that he'd never felt before. She was the first female that he'd had in a long, long time... So long, in fact, that he barely remembered.

Yet as his cock pushed into her pussy, delivering unto her the service that he yearned for too, the tiger squeezed in behind. The Feline took his arse easily, as if there was no longer any resistance to his tail hole anymore, not after being fucked for so long. The Feline roared as he pounded him, directing and controlling Hung's thrusts, one after the other, need powering through him.

Yet where Hung was forced into blissful, confusing submission, the Feline was all power, all control, all strength. He had trained his sex slave adequately and dug his fingers into his hips as he powered in, thrusting and grinding, controlling even the pace of Hung's thrusts as he forced him to pleasurably fuck the deer. Her cries under them were almost lost in the cacophony of sweet lust swirling all around them, filling the air, yet it was still there as pleasure swamped him, reaching orgasm too quickly.

He creamed, filling the deer, though she cried out for more, her cunny rippling and pulsing around him, twitching as his need overcame him, though the Feline pinned Hung in place until he was satisfied too. Those long, stringent thrusts were more familiar, however, but the tiger left his still-hard cock buried in Hung's arse as he dragged the Perro back.

"Serve her, slave. Do what you're fucking good for."

He had to, he would, he could. It was all he knew, even after being sandwiched between them, eagerly eating out the Elafia as if he had never tasted pussy before. She was good, so very sweet, his flexible tongue curling into her deeply and lapping, bringing her to a swift second orgasm and then a sharper third.

Her thighs crushed his head until he was forced over her once again, his cock hard once more, forced to pound her ruthlessly. He lasted longer that time, though every thrust of his hips was commanded by the Feline's dominating paw, not trusting him with that, fully cementing his place in his new life as a sex slave.

Every thrust. Every lap. Every throb. It was controlled by another.

And that was the way it was supposed to be.

The Perro moaned out helplessly, though there was nothing, not after all his punishments, not even after the tremor of reward, that he could do against it. He was there, stuck and blissfully forced to serve, even though, to the canine, it did not feel like any kind of service at all. Something in his breaking may just have led him to believe that it was how his life had always been meant to be.

Maybe so. Maybe not.

Hung had no say in the matter anyway.

With his training complete, the Feline took him to be of use at the base, a heavy, leather collar fastened securely around his neck and locked at the buckle. The Feline did not name himself, not in Hung's presence. That was not a name that Hung would use. All that he could call those around him was Master or Mistress, or a title of their choosing. Some chose gender-neutral services. Others didn't choose a title at all. They just abused him.

Everyone on the mother base was there for him to please. They wanted him, craved him - or at least the sexual pleasure that they desired from him. He was not real to them, entering their rooms to fuck them, to offer his services, following his training with mindlessly lustful obedience.

It felt good to fuck them. Sometimes chastity devices were used on him. Sometimes he was allowed to cum freely. That was not always a blessing and could be as much a curse too as he was forced to cum repeatedly into another Perro female, though she was very much not the bitch that everyone referred to him as.

There was a difference when that word was used... It denoted status, not only sex, when it came to canines. And he didn't care.

He loved it too much, moaning, sucking off a commander while he was doing paperwork, taking a fat dick down his throat again and again. He was in control, in a way, bobbing his head, yet the purpose of his body being there was only to act as a hot, wet cock sleeve, a hole into which someone could plug their dick.

No more than that. Certainly, no more than that.

For that was his life, his time as a sex slave sprawling out before him, playing the part of a sex toy, though...he believed it more and more. It was, after all, what he had been taught that he was meant for. That was what his training had said, a hole to be fucked, something to be used...

He groaned, nose buried in a pussy, lapping deeply, even while his anal ring was spread by a fat length of cock. He didn't even remember how he'd gotten there. All he knew was that he hungered for it, the servitude, the act and the art of pleasing, that he hardly even remembered his life before. Of course, the memories were still there, even if they would fade in time, just like any memory, but Hung no longer felt any need at all to bring them to the surface, at all to the forefront of his mind.

A slave did not need them.

Never would the Perro know how long he had been broken, grunting, panting, thrust after thrust claiming him, his muzzle stained with the arousal of the female before him. He hardly even knew who he was pleasing at any given time, only that he was there to be used, that the canine had some use in the world.

That made him happy. That made him howl with pleasure, though Hung no longer understood why others laughed at him while climaxing, pointing. Eventually, even that would die down as they became used to the sex slave in their midst, all up for free use at any time, whether he was awake or asleep, ready or not.

They knew him as the slut and that was how he behaved.

Pinned between two bodies in a bed that was not his own, one male grinding up against his hard cock and the other plunged into his arse, all Hung could do was whimper and moan. He was right where he wanted to be.

Nothing more would ever satisfy the corrupted training of a captured Perro, transformed into a sex slave for all to see.

Forever and always.