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Over the course of what felt like another two hours, Cove chatted amiably with the rest of the initiates, getting to know some of their interests, passions, and reasons for wanting to join Domino--for instance, Lamar, the fox, had been invited by another member, while Deonte, the Rottweiler, had made a bet with his friends on who out of their social circle could get in, and he was the only one who had been received an offer to join. Eventually, the group of 14 men lapsed into silence, with Cove settling down on the floor by an empty, rusted shelf rack and doing his best not to nod off. The only other high point during that waiting period was the addition of one more initiate: a deer named Santero. Cove and everyone else looked up when they heard the freezer door roll open, letting them see the nude deer--his fur still damp and horns still dripping from the quick shower he'd received in the sink--standing next to the alligator drone. Like Cove, he was pushed into the freezer by the alligator, introduced himself to the group, and after chatting with the other initiates, Santero took up a position by the freezer wall and kept to himself.

Cove could feel his eyelids getting heavier and heavier, and his head bobbed lightly, but he kept himself awake as best as he could--he knew that if he even tried "resting his eyes", he'd be out like a light in no time. It had to be around 3 in the morning, way beyond his usual bedtime. He understood why they were going so late, the tiger shark remembered going through the same thing when he joined his fraternity in his first year of college; sleep deprivation was a common tactic in any kind of hazing or initiation, as it helped make the newbies dazed, disoriented, and more likely to make mistakes, which, in turn, would make the veteran members laugh and give them an excuse to force initiates to repeat their hazing tasks until they got them right. But Cove's body was crying out for sleep, he was so drowsy, so...ready to doze...

He shook himself out of his stupor, trying to stay alert. Cove had to keep himself awake. If he fell asleep and was suddenly woken up for the first real initiation activity, he'd be even more confused and groggy than he already was. He felt bad for Areus--the leopard had to have been here for 5 hours now, at least...

Cove yawned and glanced around the freezer; everyone else was in the same boat as he, trying to keep the urge to sleep at bay, except for Hanzin and Roy, who were both completely passed out and leaning against each other, their chests slowly rising and falling.

The tiger shark clenched his hands on his thighs, trying to use the physical sensation to stimulate his brain...but he wanted to close his eyes so badly...his eyelids felt like they had 100-pound weights attached to them, it was such a struggle to keep them up...

He was in the dark, floating and looking up...

No, this wasn't a dream. It was a memory. A trip from years ago, down to the coast--a night when he'd stolen away from the beach house, ran along the shore so very late at night, and had embraced the thrill of escaping into a realm lit only by starlight. He'd run half a mile away from the closest house and stopped at a nearby dune. There, he had shucked off his shirt, shorts, and briefs, dropping them all carelessly into the sand. Completely naked, the tiger shark had set his sights on the ocean, the waves crashing against the shore and white foam glowing in the light of the moon. Cove had stepped into the water, paying no mind to the chill now that the sun was no longer warming it, and struck out to a place where his feet couldn't touch the sandy bottom; he'd known he wouldn't drift too far away, there was a sandbar nearby to prevent him from being swept into the ocean, and even if a current did push him beyond the sandbar, he was a strong enough swimmer to get out of it.

He'd reclined in the water, floating on his back while the waves lapped over him, rolling him back and forth as he stared up at the wide band of stars littering the sky. His legs and tail hung slightly below him as he bobbed up and down in the water; Cove's eyes traveled across the cosmos, absorbing the pinpricks of light that had traveled for so long to reach him. He felt so small, so insignificant...so inspired...

And then the memory morphed into something unfamiliar...unexpected...but not unwelcome at all. Something long and slender wound its way along the length of his tail, sliding against his sandpaper-like skin as it spiraled around the appendage. Cove kept his eyes on the stars as the thing in the water under him rubbed along his buttocks and gently spread them before squirming in between his cheeks and over his hole...poking at it insistently...

EH EH EH EH.

Cove's eyes slammed open. The blaring alarm and sudden change from bright white fluorescent lights to a red glow in the freezer jolted everyone awake and up on their feet, even Hanzin and Roy. Filby and Deonte held their hands over their ears, and Cove nervously looked around, trying to find the speakers that were playing the alarm horns, but it was impossible to figure out; the sound was coming from everywhere, and the dim red lights sank the freezer into a moody, shadowy gloom.

"Think this is it?" Elesen, the komodo dragon, yelled over the alarm.

Before anyone could answer, the alarm stopped, only to be replaced with the rumbling and creaking of the freezer door opening. Cove and the others squinted in the bright light that blazed through the doorway--white halogen floodlights from the kitchen made it difficult to see anything beyond a couple of shadowy figures, silhouetted by the lights, and Cove had to cover his eyes slightly to dull the pain in his retinas.

One of the shadowy figures loomed into the freezer. As it entered and stepped slightly out of the floodlight, Cove could see that it was another rubber drone--in fact, it was the wolf drone who had driven him here. The rubber-coated wolf stalked among the newbies, squeaking with each footstep as he pressed objects into the initiates' hands; Cove received his and realized he'd been given a simple black cloth eye mask. When the wolf returned to the light and became just a silhouette again, a synthesized voice commanded, "Initiates, please put your blindfolds on now. When you hear your number called, take a step forward."

Cove glanced at the other men standing nearby; Zach, Kia, Santero, Erlich, and Colby were starting to put their masks on, and Cove followed suit. He pulled the tight elastic strap around his head and let the blindfold snap into place over his eyes, blocking out his vision completely.

"Initiates! Stand up straight at attention!" a new voice--one that wasn't modulated by a synthesizer, but instead a naturally gruff, husky tone--barked like a drill sergeant in boot camp.

Nervously shaking, Cove held his feet together, his arms by his sides, and his head up high. There was silence for a moment, then a quick flurry of footsteps that walked past Cove--he winced as he felt the small wake of wind roll over him as someone passed him by.

SMACK.

Cove flinched when he heard the sudden clap of an obvious spank, followed by a yelp of pain; to the tiger shark, it sounded like Hanzin grunting.

"I said stand up straight, Number 14!"

"Y-yes, sir!" Hanzin's voice replied hastily.

There was another moment of silence, then the drill sergeant spoke again, his voice booming around the small space of the freezer. "Welcome to your first night of initiation for Domino!" As the drill sergeant spoke, his voice moved in combination with the faint footsteps that Cove could hear, and the tiger shark realized that the owner of the voice was prowling around him and the other initiates. "Congratulations on making it through the application--we had a lot of high-quality candidates, and you are the 15 that stood out to us the most. Tonight marks your first steps towards membership in our exclusive club. I recognize that for many of you, you may have some idea of what this club is like; many of you have been a part of other organizations devoted to kink, so you figure this will be a cakewalk."

Cove fought the urge to shake his head--having never gotten into any club like Domino before, he felt completely out of his depth, and he certainly didn't think initiation would be easy. But he held still, not wanting to give the owner of the voice a reason to spank him as hard as he'd apparently spanked the red panda.

"Allow me the opportunity to disabuse you of that notion right now," the drill sergeant continued, his moving voice and footsteps demonstrating that he was still stalking around the room. "Tonight's tasks will be a cakewalk compared to the work you will do for the rest of your initiation. You may get a feeding tube forced down your throat and get filled up with piss, you could get your nose pierced and be strung up by it, or have your balls squashed until they pop under a pair of boots, and those are just the easy ideas that were tossed around."

The drill sergeant paused, and Cove gulped in anticipation; nothing about tonight had turned out as he'd expected. His heart was in his throat, but he forced himself to stay standing at attention.

"So, now you're probably wondering, 'If this guy says the rest of initiation is going to be so tough, what the hell are we going to have to do for it?'" the drill sergeant picked up. "To which I say, you'll find out soon enough. We didn't give you very many details about tonight because we wanted you to come as you are, warts and all. Preparation breeds confidence, and confidence breeds arrogance--as potential new members, it is not your place to be arrogant. It is your place to be servile."

Cove flinched and stood up even straighter when the drill sergeant's voice sounded directly in front of him, not even six inches away from his face. "Your place is NOT on the bottom of the totem pole--you are below the totem pole. You make it onto the totem pole when you complete your initiation. Right now, the only things below you are the club's rubber drones."

Footsteps sounded again, and Cove sensed that the drill sergeant had padded away from him. He exhaled softly in relief as the owner of the voice continued, "Each of you has been given a unique opportunity to join our exclusive organization, and as such each of you will be given a unique initiation experience. The only thing that will be uniform for all of you is tonight's tasks, the fact that your initiations will last for an entire week, the welcoming ceremony at the end of your initiation, and the consequences of failing initiation."

Cove's pulse quickened. Consequences? When he'd signed his letter of intent to join after accepting Domino's membership offer, he hadn't thought about signing on for consequences...they'd just kick him out, right? Or would they do something worse to punish him for failing?

"On average, out of every batch of 15, we have a 30% completion rate."

The tiger shark's eyes bulged. Only 30%? Just how tough was initiation?

"Two thirds of you will not be joining us as official club members. We'll probably lose four of you tonight alone, and another five or six of you won't make it through the rest of your weeklong initiation tasks. And before you ask, there's no backing out," the drill sergeant added quickly. "You had your chance to back out before you got out of your car tonight. Now that you're here, you have to complete the challenge for tonight and your remaining challenges for the rest of the week. When you signed your letter of intent to join, you signed a legally binding document. Once you stepped through that door into the warehouse, you became obligated to participate in Domino's initiation and accept the consequences of failing to complete. If you refuse to take part now, a court of law will force you to in the future."

Cove gulped and felt his stomach drop. Legal trouble was the last thing he wanted or needed in his life--and with only a 30% completion rate and his lack of experience, what were his chances of making it through initiation without failing? But even with the low odds of success, he clenched his fists, determined--he wanted to see that Saint Bernard again...he just had to.

"Now, initiation works on a very special basis," the drill sergeant went on, pacing around the freezer. "Much like a fraternity that has big brothers and little brothers, Domino encourages new club introductions and relationships through handlers and initiates. The handlers you'll be paired with for initiation are the very best of the best that Domino has to offer. They exemplify everything we stand for: discipline...obedience...diligence...guidance...care...respect...loyalty ...domination...and submission."

As the drill sergeant said each word, Cove heard him take a purposeful, heavy step, emphasizing every quality with a thump.

"These handlers are responsible for administering your initiation activities," the owner of the voice continued. "During your time with your handler, there are three absolute rules you must follow: Trust your handler, obey your handler, and respect your handler. Break any one of those rules, and you'll be rejected from initiation. Your handler will push you to your very limits, they will break you, they will mold you into the upstanding club members we see in you...and they will keep you from coming to harm."

Cove took a breath when he heard those final words. At least it sounded like he wouldn't be permanently injured, and that he wouldn't get hurt during this whole ordeal. Still, to be paired with a serious veteran club member, someone with decades of experience...the tiger shark gulped, hoping that whoever his handler was wouldn't be able to see right through him and figure out that he had no background in kink at all. If he did...well, then Cove would just have to hope that his handler wouldn't be too hard on him.

"Domino can provide the best pleasure you've ever known, provided you make it through initiation with your handler. And I'm curious to see how many of you will make it to the end. Now, I've said my piece, so we can get started, officially," the drill sergeant said with a note of finality. "Number 1, step forward!"

Cove heard a shuffle of footsteps, and then a couple sets of squeaking footsteps on top of it, before a soft gasp of surprise, and then more squeaking footsteps--it sounded as though two rubber drones had marched Number 1 out of the freezer, and then the room was silent once more as the footsteps in the kitchen faded.

The tiger shark remained still, waiting for something else to happen, but all he heard was the soft padding of footsteps, presumably the drill sergeant's. Cove waited...

And waited...

And waited...

He drummed his fingers against his thighs, just to have something to do to pass the time. He subtly shifted his weight from one foot to the other, then rolled his shoulders to loosen up again. Someone to his right yawned--then Cove yawned, too. He sighed again, then settled into stillness as he continued waiting...

And waiting...

And waiting...

It was hard to keep his head up, to keep standing at attention, especially when it felt good to have the blindfold on and let his eyes rest.

Cove's chin dipped downward to his chest.

"Ah!" he hissed and flinched as he jolted his head back up--almost immediately after his chin had dipped, two thick fingers had roughly shoved into his slit, pushing back hard on his dick. It was like a couple of dense sausages were poking into him, and he squirmed at the sensation before they were pulled out almost as quickly as they'd been thrust inside.

"I didn't say you could relax, Number 6!" the drill sergeant yelled in his face--Cove could feel his warm breath on his muzzle. Cove grimaced and shook in fear and shock, but he forced himself to stay rooted to his spot with his head held up high again, and he soon sensed the drill sergeant step away from him as he said, "None of you are falling asleep here! Not on my watch, boys!"

The room fell silent again, save for the drill sergeant's padding footsteps...

Until he finally called out, "Number 2, step forward!"

Just like he had for Number 1, Cove heard the footsteps of whoever was assigned Number 2 mix with the light rubber squeaking of the drones escorting him away.

Cove had no idea how long he waited, his internal clock was messed up this late at night--he stayed standing at attention, doing his utmost not to relax and give the drill sergeant another reason to roughly finger him again. The only thing marking the passing of time was the soft footsteps of the drill sergeant pacing around the freezer and his intermittent calling of Numbers 3...4...5...until finally...

"Number 6, step forward!"

Cove did as he was told, taking a step forward from his spot, and he felt two strong, rubber-clad hands wrap around his biceps. The drones on either side of him marched forward, half-walking and half-dragging him along with them. Cove stumbled at first, blindly trying to adjust to their pace before he fell into step with the drones. At the same time, he focused hard on feeling out where he was being taken. The smooth, concrete floor of the freezer gave way to the wide tiles of the kitchen under his feet, then he felt more smooth concrete...then a different texture that felt almost sticky and tacky, like old linoleum or vinyl that had been covered in a residue that had built up over years of use and abandonment. Cove felt himself turn to the right, down a hallway that echoed with his and the drones' footsteps, then to the left. The air felt warmer now, and he could smell a faint trace of mildew mixed with sweat and body odor. As they continued walking, Cove could hear the gentle rumbling of a large group of people talking and muttering. The air around him seemed to feel more humid, and the rumbling grew louder as he assumed he was being brought closer to the group...

"Take three steps up, please," the drone on his left suddenly said, jolting Cove out of his reverie.

The tiger shark obeyed, raising his foot and placing it on a worn, wooden step. He stepped up again and again, and then stayed still on the flat platform that he'd ascended to.

"Stay here, please," the drone on his left told him--Cove felt both drones release his arms, and he stood still on the spot.

He remained there alone, listening to the hum of conversation filling the room that presumably lay before him. The dull cacophony of what sounded like a few dozen men's voices echoed against each other, although from the general tone and pitch, it didn't sound like any of them were excited about him...maybe he was hidden from view and not in front of an audience just yet? Cove gulped nervously, hoping he wouldn't have to do anything that required a lot of skill blindfolded. He could dance, he could definitely do that--but would that be enough without seeing how much space he had to work with?

After another few moments of waiting, listening, and worrying about what he might have to do, Cove flinched when he heard an enthusiastic, energetic voice suddenly boom over a set of speakers overhead.

"Alright, gentlemen, our next initiate who needs a handler is Number 6!"

Something rasped heavily in front of Cove, as if a curtain was being pulled away, and the crowd started cheering and clapping, making Cove blush as he realized that he was now on full display for the club. The butterflies in his stomach took flight as the announcer called, "Go ahead and take a few steps forward for us, Number 6!"

Cove shakily walked forward, slightly raising his hands to feel for obstacles or something to hold onto. His feet slowly shuffled over the wood of the platform he was on...then he felt a much smoother, slicker surface.

"That's it, keep going...keep going...and stop!"

Cove held still.

"Now strike some poses for us, boy!"

The crowd laughed at the announcer's command, and Cove smiled sheepishly, but he complied, first swinging his hips to the side and raising his arms over his head to show off. As he did so, the stage he was standing on began to vibrate and he felt as if he was slowly turning to the right--then he figured out that a part of the platform was spinning him around, giving the crowd a 360-degree view of his entire body. Cove steadied himself on the turning platform, then bent over slightly to show off his ass and tail while the crowd clapped and whistled in approval.

"That's the way--kid's a natural!" the announcer quipped. While Cove continued posing and turning on the stage, the voice continued, "A tiger shark at the tender age of 23, this boy has a wide range of interests--he loves musk and sniffing smelly pits, boots, and jockstraps; he enjoys a lot of e-stim, CBT, piss play, and edging, the longest he's ever been in chastity was two years, he knows how to worship and serve a strong dom, and he has even gotten stuffed by two Clydesdales at once!"

Even though he continued posing on the revolving stage, Cove grimaced and shuddered at the statistics that the announcer rattled off--he kept his chest thrust out and held his poses, but there was a growing knot in the pit of his stomach, a hint of anxiety twisting around itself within him like a worm in his gut.

"Just like every other initiate tonight, Number 6 here is going to be paired up with a handler--we're going with codenames to add even more mystery, so this little guy really won't have a clue of what he's getting," the announcer explained, likely more for Cove's benefit than the audience's; Cove figured that they'd been through this five times already for the initiates before him, and would watch the show again for the nine remaining initiates after him. "After reviewing his application, the top two handlers who want him are Midnight Tango and Canopy Romeo!"

The crowd clapped and whistled while Cove continued revolving on the platform--over the vibrations of the machinery turning the stage for him, Cove felt heavy stomping radiate through the rest of the platform; two sets of solid, weighty footsteps were walking towards him from either side of the stage. As the unknown handlers approached, Cove's mathematically-inclined mind couldn't help but wonder for a moment how the top two handlers were chosen. Did every handler look at the accepted applicants and voice their opinions on who they wanted? Was there some kind of formal ranking system? Did they need to gather nominations and votes from their fellow handlers? The tiger shark mentally shrugged--there was no real point in thinking about it now, as two complete strangers had already been identified and were bearing down on him. He liked the codenames that they were using, although now he was truly curious about what the men were like. From their footsteps they both sounded big and burly, but that was all the blindfolded tiger shark could glean. Isolated in the dark of his eye mask, Cove felt the stage come to a halt, and he leaned over slightly to keep himself from falling--the revolutions, slow as they were, had made him a little dizzy and lightheaded, and he needed a second to recover and regain his balance.

"The final decision is up to you, Number 6. Which handler are you going to choose?" the announcer prompted mirthfully. "There's one on your left, and one on your right. Handlers, hold your hands up!"

The announcer paused, and Cove imagined the handlers--two dark, unknown, featureless, towering shadows flanking him on either side--raising their hands up to chest-level.

"Alright, Number 6, turn left...and take a few steps...a few more...stop!"

Cove stopped where the announcer directed, and he heard a few chuckles and wolf whistles arise from the crowd.

"You can reach out and touch the handler's hands--give them a good feel. You can also try laying them on your shoulders, see what they're like," the announcer told him. "When you've made your choice, put your handler's hand on your crotch."

Cove followed the instructions; he tentatively reached forward and softly batted the air, trying to find the hands. Some of the audience members laughed at his feeble, blind swiping--and then his hands met a solid object. Cove tilted his head in thought and realized he had alit on the handler's wrist. He hastily pulled back along the back of the man's hand--it felt like the handler had a thick, meaty palm and warm, rough skin with little coarse hairs poking up from his epidermis. Cove trailed his fingers over the wrinkles that he felt along the way to the inside of the handler's hand. The palm felt dry and rugged, and the bases of the fingers had thick calluses. The fingers themselves were like stout stubs, short and powerful, with plenty of deep creases on the large knuckles. Cove wrapped his own fingers around one of the digits, squeezing to test its girth and rubbing over the nail that he felt.

"Oh, he's gotta see if that finger's good enough for his ass!" the announcer said by way of commentary, and the crowd laughed.

Cove grinned, then used both hands to gesture to his own shoulders--the handler followed his signal, draping both large mitts heavily on his shoulders. Cove inhaled and sighed; he could smell a mix of vanilla and lemon cologne along with the handler's natural body odor. Overall, being with this person was pleasant, but there was something just barely missing about the experience. As the handler lightly drummed his fingers on top of Cove's collarbone, the tiger shark tried to figure out what was lacking. Maybe it wasn't being able to see what the stranger looked like, maybe it was the fact that there was an audience watching...

The tiger shark slowly backpedaled, letting the thick hands fall down along the front of his chest and away from him.

"Looks like he's going to try the other handler!" the announcer called. "Do a 180 for us, 6...and take a few steps...more...more, you're almost there...stop!"

Again, Cove did as he was told. He halted and then raised his hands to blindly search for this new handler--he didn't know if it was Canopy Romeo or Midnight Tango.

He flinched when he felt the thick, fluffy-furred wrist, and then he withdrew slightly to drag his fingers along the back of the handler's hand. It was a broad paw, nice and wide, and hefty, too. Cove traced over the pads in the palm and on the fingers--they were rough, too, but not uncomfortable; the mark of a hard worker, someone who pushed himself and others. Cove held his hand up against the handler's giant meathook; even though he couldn't see the size difference, Cove felt immediately dwarfed by the vast hand. There was something delightful about that...delightful and almost familiar...

Like he did with the previous handler, Cove gestured at his own shoulders, and the stranger in front of him placed his hands on them. The tiger shark felt the full weight of the man's hands, like two giant scoops holding onto him. He inhaled and sighed--and that's when he felt a spark. Cove's nose flared when he smelled sweat, sandalwood, and tobacco, scents that made him feel at ease and content. His heart pounded in his chest when one of the large thumbs at the base of his neck began to softly stroke along his throat, as if possessively comforting him.

Cove gulped, feeling his throat bob against the strong digit on his neck. He knew he was taking a risk, but something just felt so right about this; he reached up to hold one of the handler's hands...and slowly placed it on his crotch. Two of the thick, long fingers slid between his legs, cradling his taint, while the palm easily covered his slit.

"And it's Midnight Tango!" the announcer called--while there was mostly clapping from the crowd, Cove could hear some groans of despair. "Good luck to you, 6!" the announcer chuckled while the hand on Cove's crotch tightened and began to drag him forward; Cove stumbled and took a step to keep up while the announcer continued, "You managed to pick the toughest son of a bitch in Domino! I've seen that guy pick cuties like you out of his teeth, literally!"

Cove's stomach flipped while the crowd laughed and cheered. For a minute, he wildly thought about yanking off his mask and running out--but then there was no way he could get away from everyone, right? And if he tried backing out now...he didn't know what consequences there would be, but he had a feeling they wouldn't be good. Resignedly, Cove allowed himself to be led off the stage by the crotch, his new handler first guiding him down the steps and to the right...then around in a loop...and then...

Cove jumped and winced when he felt the first set of hands grope him from out of nowhere. Bodies were pressing against him, fingers tracing along his muscles, there were pinches to his tail and ass; it didn't take much for him to figure out that his handler was leading him through the crowd, and they were all reaching out to cop a feel on him like a multi-limbed, endless sea monster reaching from the dark depths that Cove couldn't see beyond his blindfold. He squirmed in his handler's tight grip and struggled to keep pace with the stranger's long strides; this guy wasn't stopping for anything, and Cove worked hard not to trip and fall.

Finally, after a few twists and turns around the rest of the club members, they made it out of the crowd and Cove felt himself being led down another hallway...then another that smelled more strongly of mildew and rust. Water dripped from a pipe somewhere...then a door creaked open, and Cove felt a soft wave of cooler air wash over him. He followed his handler into the space before the door creaked closed again, and the man kept walking until he guided Cove to a hard plastic chair.

"You may sit, sir," a synthesized drone voice said, directing Cove to sit in the chair while his handler released his crotch. "You are not to speak unless spoken to."

Heavy footsteps retreated, but instead of the door creaking open once more, Cove heard the soft groan of springs, and a faint grunt--his handler must have sat down on a sofa across the room. He wanted to call out, to ask who his handler really was, to ask if he'd made the right decision, to ask where they'd ended up, to introduce himself, to admit the truth and say that he'd lied on his application, to apologize for wasting everyone's time because he was sure he'd fail whatever task was coming up...but he held his tongue, settling back into his chair instead. Cove forced himself to breathe deeply, in and out through his nose. As he calmed himself and sat there in the dark, the tiger shark could hear the faint inhales and exhales of other people...he wasn't alone in the room. Maybe the other initiates were there with him, waiting with their handlers?

His suspicions were confirmed shortly. He didn't know how much time had passed--maybe 10 minutes--but eventually the door creaked open again, he heard footsteps, the door creaked shut, and someone soon sat in a chair near him while another drone's synthesized voice instructed, "You may sit, sir. You are not to speak unless spoken to."

This routine repeated over the course of what felt like the next 45 minutes, although it might have been longer or shorter; Cove's sense of time was well and truly gone by this late in the night. But after a while, what sounded like the last initiate arrived. Cove nervously tapped his fingers on his thighs as he waited...and then flinched when a pair of headphones was snapped in place over his ears. The outside world went completely silent--Cove coughed to clear his throat and hear himself, but everything was so muffled that he realized that he was wearing noise-canceling headphones. The announcer's voice then sounded off in the hi-fidelity speakers, blaring directly into Cove's ears.

"Initiates, welcome! Each of you has been paired with your handler--they're going to be the ones guiding you through your initiation tasks for the rest of the week, but before you get started, tonight is going to be about putting yourself completely in their hands."

Cove gulped nervously.

"On the table next to you, you'll find a chastity device appropriate for your anatomy--cages for initiates with and without sheaths, barriers for initiates with slits," the announcer continued. "Your task--whoa, hold up there, Number 10, I didn't say you could start yet!"

Cove stayed still; he'd thought about feeling around blindly for the table for his chastity device to find it immediately, but the announcer's callout made him pause. Then his heart skipped a beat as he recognized Number 10: That was the number that Erlich, the beaver, had been given.

"That's going to cost you a 15-second penalty, and you'll all see why that's important in a minute," the announcer continued over the headphones. "Now, like I was saying, your task is simple: Put on your chastity device and lock it in place, then walk across the room and give the key to your handler. You just have to do it blindfolded and keep your headphones on, and you'll have to feel out which handler is yours. If you give your key to the wrong handler across the room, you fail. If you remove your headphones or mask, you fail. If you put on your chastity device incorrectly, you fail."

The tiger shark's pulse skyrocketed--he'd only ever seen chastity devices online, he hadn't so much as touched on in real life, and now he was supposed to put one on completely blind and deaf?

"Oh, and one more thing," the announcer began dramatically. "And this is where that 15-second penalty for Number 10 might be an advantage to the rest of you: The five slowest initiates to complete this task will be removed from initiation. Those who fail this task will also be removed. I'm not going to tell you the consequences until after the task, but believe me, they're steep."

Cove's eyes widened under his eye mask--Erlich was already 15 seconds behind everyone else? But before Cove could even process how high the stakes might be, the announcer pressed on, "Good luck, boys! You've got a whole audience back out here watching and placing their bets, so give them a good show. Your time starts now!"

With the rest of the outside world silent and dark for him, Cove scrambled around while staying in his chair, first reaching out to the right and feeling nothing but air. He waved his hands as he leaned forward in his seat, then leaned over to the left, and--there! His hands hit a solid tabletop. He wagged his arms from side to side, fumbling around for his chastity device; it took him a few seconds for his forearm to brush up against it, and he snatched it up and began twisting and turning it in his fingers, trying to find the identifying features.

From what he could feel, the chastity device he held was a small barrier that would fit into his slit, similar to the one he'd seen online; one side was slightly convex and the other concave, and there were small, rounded nubs slightly protruding from the edges of the barrier. On the concave side, Cove felt a narrow, silicone tube attached to a metal adapter, and on the convex side there was a small, metal pipe sticking out, a hole that seemed to have six distinct sides--it felt like the opening for an L-shaped hex wrench--and another port that felt like a keyhole. Cove grinned as a small surge of confidence swelled in his chest; this device was nearly identical to the one he'd been looking at and fantasizing about, and he remembered the research he'd done about the mechanics of the barrier. He'd need to use a hex wrench to extend the nubs on the side, to make the barrier expand enough to stay put inside his genital pouch and prevent his cock from pushing it out of his slit. Then he'd use a key to lock the arms in place. He was momentarily puzzled by the extra tubes though, he hadn't seen them on the model he had been thinking about buying...he fingered them for a moment, feeling the flexibility of the silicone tube and the metal port attached to the opposite side of the device. Then his eyebrows rose in recognition--they were urethral tubes, allowing him to still piss through the barrier.

Cove chewed the inside of his lip, uncomfortable at the prospect of shoving a tube into his dick. He'd never done anything like that before, and the little porn that he'd seen involving urethral sounding had definitely made him cross his legs in sympathetic fear; wouldn't it hurt? Tubes weren't really supposed to go in there except for medical procedures, right? Much less giant metal rods and even fingers and tongues; the snakes, lizards, komodo dragons, and even giraffes that Cove had seen wriggle down other porn actors' cocks--it always gave Cove the shivers. Did men really find that pleasurable? It seemed like violating such an intimate space, stretching and stimulating his cock from the inside...but he couldn't deny some gross curiosity about it, even though he couldn't see himself doing it voluntarily. Then again, he wouldn't exactly be doing it voluntarily tonight--he'd have to get over his hangups about it if he wanted to get into Domino, and he'd have to hurry, too. Sweat formed on his brow; Cove figured he'd probably already wasted enough time just by figuring out the mechanics of the device, and now it was likely that even Erlich had more than made up for his 15-second penalty.

He hastily reached toward the table on his left again, this time seeking out the tools he'd need. After a few seconds of blind searching, his fingers hit upon the smooth metal of the hex wrench and the jagged teeth of the key he'd need. He palmed both tools quickly and then set to work. In the dark, it was hard to tell which way was up, down, backwards, or forwards; the tiger shark hunched over himself, fiddling with the chastity barrier as he used one hand to hold his slit open like the fly of his pants. With his other hand, he slid the device sideways into his groin. Cove lightly hissed at the cold metal touching his sensitive inner flesh, but it soon began to warm as he worked it further inside, the rounded edges of the barrier bluntly pressing against the sensitive insides of his genital pouch--then he grunted in discomfort when he felt the barrier actually bulging into him, and the short, metal tube protruding from the front of the device was pressing hard against his chubbing dick. Cove panicked, realizing he'd accidentally inserted the barrier backwards--between his fingers, he could feel the silicone "catheter" tube sticking out of his slit like a thin, limp noodle.

"Oh shit!" He could only hear and feel the vibrations of his vocal cords, his voice sounded so muffled and distant through the noise-canceling headphones.

In a frenzy, Cove pushed his fingers into his slit, desperate to turn the device around; it was like dipping his fingers into a steam room, the inside of his groin so warm and slick from a mix of pre, sweat, and other natural body fluids that kept his slit lubed. He fumbled with the barrier--getting a good grip on it without arousing himself at the same time (while blindfolded and doing everything by touch) was practically impossible. A layer of slime covered everything, from the thick, fleshy folds housing his dick to the hard steel of the chastity barrier. The cramped confines of his slit had never had anything like this in it before; at most, he'd stuck a couple fingers in there to tease himself and get the engine revved up--it usually only took a little bit of rubbing for his cock to part the pliable opening of his slit and surge upward from his groin like an oak tree erupting from the ground. But now it was almost uncomfortable how full his crotch was with the chastity barrier lodged inside. His digits slipped over the metal and his cock as he unintentionally fingered himself; Cove could feel his glans already swelling and he could tell that his shaft was slowly inflating.

"Fuck, come on," Cove grumbled to himself.

He twiddled his fingers in the moist, tight, pre-slicked orifice, then gasped in triumph when he finally pinched the barrier. With his other hand, he used two fingers to spread the lips of his slit apart and pull out the barrier.

"The first initiate has handed his key over!" the announcer's voice suddenly declared in Cove's headphones.

Cove's fingers spasmed as he tried to quickly turn the chastity barrier around--between his nerves and the slippery coating of pre on the metal device, he almost fumbled it, but he managed to keep it in his grasp. His pulse pounding in his ears, Cove leaned over in his seat again and held open his slit.

Cove began pushing the barrier in. He clenched his jaw, trying hard not to let anxiety get the better of him--the barrier was halfway in, and he couldn't push more until the urethral tube was in place. Cove breathed deeply and focused, blindly feeling around inside his slit with his other hand for the silicone catheter tube. It slipped past his digits once...twice...then he caught it and held it tightly. It was slick and slippery between his fingers, the pre from his cock and the slimy secretions from his genital pouch already serving as lubricant for it. The tiger shark could feel his heart in his throat and cold dread in the pit of his stomach--he couldn't believe he was actually about to do this.

He nervously chewed the inside of his lip again, his body tensed as he guided the tip of the urethral tube back, then forward and inward until it touched the tip of his penis. Cove took a breath...then another, his jaw clenched...and then pushed, sliding the blunt end of the silicone tube between the lips of his urethra. He grunted in surprise at the light sting he felt as the cut end of the tube rubbed against the delicate inner lining of his cock; it wasn't as terrible as he imagined, but still just a little uncomfortable. The sting faded as he took a moment to breathe through the sensation and adjust to it--it still felt strange having something penetrating him and parting the opening of his cock like this, but there wasn't much he could do unless he was willing to forfeit his place in the club. Determined, Cove pushed the tube in deeper, forcing it to slip down his cock; the smooth sides of the tube rubbed against the inside of his urethra, making him feel like he was pissing in reverse. Once he was over the initial shock, the tube actually felt somewhat soothing; it bent naturally with the subtle contour of his dick still crammed inside his genital pouch, and now that he had most of it in, it didn't seem so bad. Hell, given enough time, he could probably get used to something like this, just as long as he wasn't forced to take anything thicker, and Cove still felt leery about sounding with a metal rod.

For a moment, he wondered how long it had been since the first initiate had handed his key over. Was the announcer going to tell them when each initiate had completed the task? Did he still have time? Either way, Cove nodded to himself--it was time to get a move-on.

He pushed the rest of the chastity barrier into his slit, groaning as he did so. It was hard work, literally; he'd aroused himself enough to have a semi already, and the additional stimulation of pushing the barrier on his cock was just making it stiffer and stiffer. He throbbed and twitched--it was almost like his dick was making a desperate bid for freedom, now that it was so much closer to being locked away. Cove had to concentrate, though; as much as he wanted to just grab his cock and furiously rub out a load, he had to get this done. He pressed, breathed, spread his legs, thought of anything that would take his mind off of his dick...and finally he could feel it soften enough to give way to his efforts. He pushed further until the barrier was fully inside; this time the concave side of the barrier cradled his cock instead of bulging into him, and his dick now slid easily along the silicone tube--riding along as if it were a thick beast devouring a thin worm--until all six inches of it were completely inside his urethra, down to the base of his dick, and he felt the tip of his glans rest against the metal, outward curve of the chastity device. His slit, meanwhile, now had a soft, almost imperceptible bulge to it, and the narrow, metal exit pipe for the urethral tube just barely protruded past the lips of his orifice.

Quickly, Cove fumbled with the hex wrench; it took him a few tries to find and push the wrench into the six-sided hole above the exit pipe sticking out of his slit. Metal scraped against metal until the wrench finally caught on the hole, and Cove jammed the tool inside, then began twisting it in his fingers--as soon as he started turning the wrench, the tiger shark could feel the blunt arms of the barrier begin to expand. He twisted again and again until all six points of contact--two on each side of his slit, one on the top, and one on the bottom--were engaged and pressed tightly (but not painfully) on the inside of his genital pouch, preventing anything from exiting his slit except his piss through the small exit pipe. Cove removed the hex wrench and switched it out for the small key he still held, which he dragged along the metal surface of the chastity barrier until it caught on the keyhole.

"The fifth initiate has handed his key over--10 of you are left. Only five of you still have a shot to make it into Domino after this!"

Cove's pulse rose even higher, if that were possible. Frantic, he shoved the key into the keyhole and twisted it, locking the device's arms into place. Now all he had to do was get across the room to his handler...