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Chapter 4

Firefox was nude, hobbled, wrists behind her back. Tigre was behind her, a firm grip on her collar, marching her as quickly as she could walk with her ankles chained a foot apart. Tigre steered her by patting her buttocks with a coiled whip. The fox's tail was lowered, from fear as much to protect herself.

"Don't you want me to shower?" Firefox asked, hoping to stall for time. She was muzzled, loosely, able to speak softly and to lick her lips. She could guess why she could extend her tongue.

"No. And be quiet."

Firefox went silent as they went through corridors and automated gates, so quickly that even Firefox was lost. She wouldn't even get to add to her mental map for what was about to happen ... whatever that was. Fun. Tigre's idea of fun.

They stopped in front of a door: RESIDENTIAL 1223. Slave or not, Tigre apparently had privileges. Firefox could hear a bolt slide. It had to be automated. For a moment, Tigre was intent on the door; she gave it a sharp shove, as though it stuck. It sprung open. The hinges were on the inside; Tigre was never locked in.

The room was small, mostly taken up by a queen-sized bed. There was a tiny kitchen, barely big enough for two to stand in, with a microwave and no stove or oven. There was an office desk with a computer locked down with security cables; a neural interface box, backed up by a keyboard and flatscreen that probably were used only if the neural interface was having problems, or if a human needed access. That, of course, meant Tigre was equipped with an implant as well.

For an instant, Firefox couldn't believe her luck. If her own neural interface had been working properly, she could try to log on. No, she couldn't, she realized. She didn't have intrusion firmware built into her interface.

But Shadowfox did.

She had barely finished the thought when Tigre shoved her onto the bed. The tiger grabbed her legs and rolled her over onto her back, turning her so her head was below the pillow and her feet over the end. Firefox's hands were behind her back and thrusting her groin upwards, as though struggling to meet a lover. The mattress was expensive, pneumatic, set to firm. Tigre straddled her, sitting on her hips.

Firefox felt Tigre's weight, the hardness of her trained muscles. She had to be enhanced, same as Firefox, except she was a bit bigger. She was probably stronger than Firefox, but hopefully, not as fast. When Firefox fought, she normally could rely on surprise; she didn't look like someone who could bench press a quarter ton on a good day. Tigre would know that, though. Firefox had fought hand to hand many times, but she guessed that she'd need a gun or weapon to beat Tigre in a fair fight. Well, make sure it isn't fair.

Tigre was barefoot, but wore black leather socks, like athletic ankle supports, that left her toes and heel exposed to touch the ground, that gave the impression of boots. A small chrome ring on the outside of her ankles served to remind anyone who saw her that she was a slave and could be made to wear chains. They were tight and had a barely visible thickening over the vulnerable bones in her shins; and they buckled behind the knee. Impact armor, probably, protecting her lower leg and kneecaps. She wore a harness for a strap-on over thin panties; in the back it went below her tail and a seam in front made a vertical line over her vulva. The ring used to insert a dildo was positioned there, like a bull's-eye.

Chrome chains against her fur formed a light load carrying harness; different lengths of chain with fasteners at either end, a few keys and a riding crop on her left hip; on her right a coiled whip and a long dildo made to fit her harness. Firefox found herself wondering about the dildo. All the slaves were women; did carrying it make Tigre an honorary man? Long, fingerless shooter's gloves, beautiful, cruel, sexy, and like her footwear they concealed armor on her elbow. A soft buzz of electrical current showed they were also shock gloves. At the side of each wrist, there was a small chrome loop. She wore a collar, inevitably black with chromed studs, with a chromed ring for a leash at her throat, and chrome metal studs. Tigre was the only slave Firefox had seen with a studded collar. Studs, she realized, were symbols of protection, the mark of a fighting dog. Tigre's breasts were in a bustier, that left her flat, furred belly exposed. Everything she wore was black or chrome, except for the white penis on her hip.

Tigre's clothes were not exactly modest, and so stereotypical they might have provoked laughter, except they were worn by a woman sitting on her, staring at her naked breasts, fingers close to that riding crop. Firefox's utter helplessness was almost palpable, as was the fact she would spend the night screaming if the whim struck Tigre. Tigre looked down at Firefox's face, smiled at the surprise she saw there, and then looked down at her breasts.

Firefox felt more afraid than she thought she would. There was something odd about this fear, something only indirectly associated with the woman who had her pinned and chained on her bed. Tigre reached slowly down and played with them briefly, squeezing them, running her fingers lightly over Firefox's nipples. Reluctantly, she stopped, then reached up above Firefox's head, pulled out a cable on a reel, and fastened it to the ring on her collar. She lay down next to Firefox, put an arm over her, licked her ear with a rough tongue.

"The women who clean my room don't understand why I keep the same sheets," she said casually. "But you understand, don't you? You and every other fur girl I take here."

Firefox understood immediately, but kept silent. Tigre paused, and played with Firefox's left breast briefly, smiling as her nipple stiffened. She moved her head over to suck at it for a few moments, loudly and shamelessly, kneading at her breast like a nursing kitten. Then she looked up at Firefox with her teeth showing through parted lips, and gently stroked the side of the fox's head.

"You and I know. You can smell the fear of dozens of women, their sweat as they fought the metal binding them down, their tears as they wept into my pillow." She smiled at her. Her hand moved slowly, gently, over Firefox's right breast. "You will not be punished for insolence, you will not be punished for disrespect. There is only one command in my bed: amuse me. If you don't, I'll stir you up a little with the riding crop. Not a punishment, just for fun." Here, she smiled, a genuine smile as she thought of it. She kissed her nipple tenderly. "If that doesn't liven you up, I let the guards know I've got someone for them. They keep at you until you ask for me. And you have to ask me very, very hard, because I like watching men do that. Do you understand?"

"You're insane," Firefox heard herself say. Firefox wished she could take it back. Not punished for insolence. Sure. She could imagine the blond guard, grinning at her as he took off his pants, and her stomach went over.

Amazingly, Tigre seemed to consider this seriously before she shook her head. "No. I'm well adapted for my environment and my function. I tame and train female pleasure slaves. Or, more correctly, they are sent to me for punishment." She licked Firefox's nipple, rough tongue against wrinkled flesh. "Sanity and insanity are matters of social context. Outside, I'd be a sexual sadist and possibly even a rapist. Here, I'm a valued component of Blue Diamond," she said complacently. "I am Master's whip." She touched Firefox's throat and trailed a single claw down. "I didn't beat the record," she said sadly. "The whip skipped over your breast and it left a break in the welt. Maybe if I had someone behind you, holding these apart." She kissed Firefox's throat.

"You don't consider yourself a rapist?" Firefox asked, uncertainly. Silverfox had quoted the catechism on that subject, but she couldn't believe that Tigre could force herself on a woman begging her not to and still think it wasn't rape.

Tigre snorted. "You're a slave. I took you on stage and I'm taking you here with your owner's consent. Your owner is your will." Tigre looked into her eyes steadily. "I have never forced a man or woman against their will."

Firefox took a deep breath. "Tigre, you have been misinformed. The four of us are registered as free chimera in the Commonwealth of Massachusetts. We are legally human."

"This isn't Massachusetts," the tiger said with a smile. "Besides, the idea of a 'legally human' chimera is idiotic. We're not human. We're artifacts, tools, self-aware and sapient but created for a specific role."

"It's not that simple. Talk to a lawyer."

Tigre shook her head. "I've heard this before. You think you're the first to try that on me? No, it's an old dodge." Firefox sighed. Tigre obviously knew just enough law for Blue Diamond's purposes.

"I can't amuse you tied up like this," Firefox said, immediately changing tack.

Tigre laughed. "Of course you can, foxy. Just reach down deep, find your inner whore. Like you did with Jamison." She licked her again. "Do you want a spreader bar, or will you open your legs for me?" She asked, her eyes looking over to a dresser, apparently expecting a negative reply.

Firefox hesitated. Any additional piece of bondage equipment with further restrict her movements, and therefore her options. So she drew her feet up against her hands. She then spread her knees, lifting her hips slightly higher into the air and opening herself as far as she could manage with her ankles still hobbled, as though she were hogtied. Tigre looked down on her, actually surprised, before putting out a single finger and extending a claw.

"That's my girl," she said, lifting herself up on one arm and touching her claw gently, so gently, to Firefox's labia. "That's my good girl." She moved her claw away from her palm, so instead of catching the flesh it glided over the delicate folds of skin, tickling gently as a feather. "Beautiful. So beautiful. It makes me wish I had a cock for you to warm."

Without another word, Tigre moved her head downwards, her long hair trailing over Firefox's belly. Looking down, Firefox's view was blocked by Tigre's hair, by the rise of her hips, and by her own breasts. But she could feel Tigre's warm breath on her mound, felt the feathery quick in-and-out air current as Tigre sniffed, curiously. Firefox trembled, remembering how sharp her teeth were. It took a real effort of will to keep her legs open.

And then the tip of Tigre's tongue dabbed at the folds of her skin, lightly at first. Then, delicately, she licked around Firefox's mons, rough tongue moving with the lay of her fur, grooming her. Her tongue worked diligently, pausing only to swallow before going out again for more.

Firefox realized Tigre was licking Jamison off her and out of her, that she was doing the same thing Silverfox had done after Master had forced his seed into her. She wondered, briefly, if the same animal drive, the same hunger, had been placed into the tiger's brain.

Her tongue was rough, and Firefox felt herself flinching away from it at the same time she found herself craving for more, and then Tigre shifted to put her tongue in even deeper. Firefox gasped, and cut it off. Tigre chuckled, her voice low.

"I know how much you love this," she stated. "You're so wet for me now."

"For Jamison," Firefox snorted.

Again, the low laughter, and her tongue scraped lightly across her clitoris, making Firefox's entire body twitch.

"'For Jamison,'" Tigre snorted, mocking her. "Jamison isn't here. You're going to come for me, because you were born to be a whore and you're in my bed."

"I'm a light combat model," Firefox contradicted her.

Tigre looked at her chest. "Top heavy combat model, more like." She laughed out loud. "No you're not. None of you are. You're modified pleasure models."

"Liar," Firefox snapped.

"Silly girl." Tigre looked at her lazily. "Look in a mirror some time. Do we have one big enough for these?" she asked, squeezing her breasts. "You noticed how sex is suddenly more intense for you, better? You think we could program that into you over a period of weeks? Your brain's biological, although artificial. All we did was break the implant that was suppressing your libido."

Firefox was shaking, with anger. "Liar," she repeated, even though she knew it was unconvincing.

"No lies here, beautiful." She looked up at her. "I've never lied to you." She kissed her clitoris, sending a sharp wave of pleasure through Firefox. Gently, Tigre sucked on her clitoris, forcing a moan out of the fox. "My bed is an honest place. Ask the others." The tiger nibbled gently between Firefox's legs, each twitch of pleasure carrying with it a threat of pain, and somehow, that excited her.

It seemed there was nothing in the universe but herself and the rough tongue and teeth that alternately pleasured her and menaced her; Firefox stared at the ceiling and tried to think of something else but failed. Was Tigre telling the truth? Would Tigre lick next? Nibble? Blow gently? Suck? It was a torment, exquisite in its own way. Tigre made love in much the same way she used a whip; taking her time, keeping unpredictable, forcing her subject to wonder what would be touched next. Even wondering excited her more, made her even wetter, stiffened her nipples and made her struggle against her chains, not to escape, but to embrace the woman who was bringing her to orgasm as skillfully and mercilessly as she brought pain.

And that was the thought in her head as Firefox gritted her teeth and shook in her climax, and just as instinctively tried to push Tigre away, and collapsed back, nerveless and boneless, breathing deeply.

Tigre sat up and laughed, wiping her mouth and licking Firefox's juices off her hand. "For Jamison. You don't even know Jamison. You were servicing a client. You did exactly what Master wanted you to."

"I did what I wanted to do," Firefox hissed.

Tigre rested her head sideways on Firefox's belly, looking up at her quizzically. "I said that," she told her. "Master's your will."

"So why didn't you bill Jamison for my services?" Firefox snapped. "You said he wouldn't be charged. And don't brothels run off repeat business? Why did you tell him I fuck whoever I'm with every few hours? Isn't the point to make him think he's special?"

Tigre actually looked surprised and confused. "I -- I don't know. I just --" she looked away, and then back.

"He might have come back for more of me," Firefox continued, pressing her unexpected advantage. "Come back for more of the special lady who couldn't keep her hands off him. Think he'll do that now?" She had seen chimera act like Tigre before, when an atavistic instinct conflicted with conditioning in new and unexpected ways. "You lied to him. Why?"

"I -- I can't explain it." She looked uncertain. "I don't have the words."

Firefox tilted her head quizzically. If Tigre didn't have words, it meant that there was a basic conflict between Tigre's conditioning and some part of her mind that operated on a level below language. It was an extraordinary admission.

"I -- I -- liked his scent," Tigre said, slowly. "It's for me, not for you. And you had him. I was angry that you serviced him." She growled for a moment, atavism, and cut it off. "Angry at you. More angry at him. I -- wanted him hurt. I was glad to see he was sad. Now I'm sorry."

Tigre was clearly perplexed and confused. Firefox knew the tiger was potentially dangerous, but she didn't feel afraid; this didn't seem like some sort of clever trap. "You know him?" Firefox asked gently. "You recognize his scent?"

"Yes, but --" Tigre hesitated, forced herself to breathe deeply. "But that's not your concern. That's between Master and me."

It was obvious there was a conflict between Tigre's conditioning into her role and ... something. By its very nature, Tigre would find it hard to see or understand what was obvious to an observer, any more than Firefox could see a similar conflict in herself. Firefox had no idea what the problem could be, but if it wasn't what Master wanted Tigre to do, it had to be encouraged, which, for now, meant Tigre had to be distracted. If she stayed confused about it for long she'd realize there was a problem, and would likely bring it obediently to Master.

Firefox's stomach rumbled. Loudly, and unexpectedly. Tigre blinked and looked at it, vaguely astonished, as though expecting an explosion. "Dinner," she said, to Firefox's relief.

Tigre stood with her back to the bed. She opened a cupboard, taking out a dish and a glass. Then, Firefox's heart sank as she took out a wide-bottomed rectangular dog dish with two compartments. She filled the porcelain dish from a box of dry kibble -- Chimera Chow, Firefox guessed, with taurine added for felids -- and poured some bottled water into the glass and one half of the pet dish. It was a shame that Tigre didn't get the food Master did. She was on a diet, probably.

"I can use a spoon, you know," Firefox said darkly.

Tigre didn't bother to look around. "You can also use one of the watering dildos. Would you prefer that? Show some gratitude."

Instead, Firefox gritted her teeth. Tigre opened an envelope of kibble optimized for the vulpine diet -- Firefox recognized the smell immediately -- and poured it into the dry compartment. She carried the dishes and glass back to the bed, put them on a table next to a chair. She took a spoonful from her own plate, crunched it as she set the pet dish on the floor to the left of an armchair. Alpha's prerogative, eating first.

She picked up a leash, clicked it onto Firefox's collar, undid the one connecting her to the bed, and tugged gently, leading Firefox off and next to the chair. She pulled the fox into a stoop, attaching the free end of the leash to the chair. She played with Firefox's breasts for a moment, with a slight smile.

"Now eat up and be quiet. I have some work to do."

Firefox's back was to the computer, but her electrical sense twitched as the peltier cooler switched out of standby mode. Tigre watched the screen intently. Firefox glanced at it, but it was in implant mode -- Tigre probably couldn't even see the screen with her eyes; data was being sent directly to her optic nerve via her implant. The tiger kept one hand on Firefox, stroking her around her head and shoulders, skritching the thicker pockets of fur behind her ears, incidentally making sure she didn't escape.

Firefox hesitated and bowed down to the dishes, as the tiger's hand ran lightly over her back and her bound arms. Then she caressed Firefox's buttocks. Firefox wondered what Tigre was doing: was she filing a preliminary report on Firefox's performance? It didn't seem unlikely. Firefox could imagine Tigre filling in her to-do list: this slave beaten, that slave violated, Firefox coming along nicely: opening legs on command. Was Firefox here on Master's orders, or was Tigre simply having fun on her time off?

"You haven't had any VR training here yet," Tigre said. "We'll have to schedule you for some. You need to learn etiquette. There's a lot more to being a slave than fucking and squirming on the floor. You need to learn how to express your gratitude for Master's guidance."

Firefox tried to concentrate on her food, to ignore the anger she felt welling up inside her. Express her gratitude? With an automatic rifle, maybe.

"I told you that you wouldn't be punished for insolence," Tigre said. "Why don't you say what you really think?"

"Because," Firefox said mildly, "you said you had work to do and told me to be quiet."

"So I did," Tigre said, and patted her with a chuckle. "A woman being tamed goes through resistance, avoidance, and submission. Resistance is obvious. I'm surprised that your little red friend is still there. She's afraid of what we do to her, but she's still fighting it. Your black friend is avoiding. She seems to be co-operating now, but she's just trying to keep from being punished. Submission is internal. Your gray friend and I work to please Master because we understand we exist for him."

"Why tell me this?" Firefox asked, biting back a retort about Silverfox. It wouldn't do at all to let Tigre know it was an act. That was childishly obvious, yet Tigre's smug confidence that the gray fox had gone over was infuriating.

Tigre tugged Firefox's head up gently by the hair, took her under the chin and looked into her face. She must have paused the computer to see with her own eyes. "Because you need to understand that we're simply guiding you back into what you were meant to be. We're repairing the damage done by the people who tried to turn you into something you're not. You're not fooling me," she said. "I know how much you still hate me. But the only difference between you and me is that I love Master. Some day, you'll hold a whip and flog women in his name."

"I won't," Firefox said, tired.

"We'll see." Tigre looked over at her empty dish. "Come around front," she said, spreading her thighs. "Time for you to have dessert." She opened the snap on her crotch, lifted the front of her panties so her loins were uncovered.

Firefox hesitated, and scuttled around in front of Tigre. She rested her chin on the chair, put out her tongue, and tasted Tigre's clitoris. Tigre laughed. "No, no." She stood up. "You have a lot to learn about licking a woman out. Let's go see your friend with the magic mouth."

Tigre stood, readjusted her panties, and gave Firefox a hobble and a leash. She tightened the muzzle, so the straps cut into Firefox's snout.

She towed the fox out of her bedroom, through concrete corridors, and out into a dark hallway. The lights were brass fittings, dim. The carpet was soft. Firefox's hackles rose. They were in the hotel again.

"We're now behind the scenes in the heart of Blue Diamond," Tigre explained. "We call it The Floor. It's where you'll probably earn your room and board." Tigre smiled as an angry retort was made incomprehensible by Firefox's muzzle. "This part is done up because a guest might be able to see it. And this is a very exclusive club."

Tigre pushed a door open.

They were behind a bar. The room was dark, with subdued lighting, and tasteful ambient music. The bartender was a bit under two meters, bald, and the muscles under his suit moved like boulders. He glanced over.

"Tigre," he said with a nod. "Jack and Coke?"

"Jerry," she acknowledged. "Thanks, maybe later. I'm working."

Jerry's nametag had two small flags: a French tricolor and a Spanish banner. Additional languages, Firefox guessed.

Jerry looked at Firefox and made a moue. "Don't think she's on the tamed list yet."

"That's why I'm holding the leash."

Firefox's eyes were having trouble adjusting to the darkness. There were pools of light on platforms and runways, focused on women in different stages of undress. All wore collars, and the light twinkled on the chrome chains, making it look like silver. There were men in the room, lots of them; Firefox guessed there might be over a hundred, all sitting at tables, or walking about with drinks; every shirt had a collar and the informal ones wore polo shirts.

Firefox thought she could hear dice rattling on felt, a roulette wheel, cards slapping on the table.

A woman placed a tray of cups on a table. One of the men said something; she turned, lifted her shirt to reveal her breasts, and put her nipple into his mouth.

"Dancing's not easy," Tigre said. "We have high standards, and our girls work hard. There's a lot of competition for that, because it's pretty much the only job on the Floor where you don't get groped. We're not some hands-off strip club on the mainland." Incredibly, her voice held a note of disdain for those hands-off mainland strip clubs.

"The problem is, you don't let them get off on the Floor," Tigre said. "You want him to pay extra for that. You can play with his cock if you think that he can hold it and he's tipping. Oh, sometimes a guy will go off," Tigre snapped her fingers and grinned, "and then you better find a way to turn it into money. But you really want him to rent you overnight.

"Then they're allowed to tip up to five dollars because of all the time you spend, and unless he's pure shit, he buys you breakfast and maybe dinner. It's still hard work, and you have to stay alert, because if his dick gets hard it had better be inside you. Still, it's easier than being rented by the hour or footstooling, and it's a lot easier than the struggle board. He's only got one dick."

Tigre tugged the leash and walked her around the bar, out onto the floor. The lights were muted, but every barefoot step reminded Firefox she was on display. As they walked past tables, conversations died as the men looked at her, evaluated her, rested their eyes on her privates as they groped a waitress. Firefox wondered why nobody stopped them. Tigre was intimidating, maybe, or the way they moved made it look like they were busy?

"The trick is to get him thinking with his little head, and keeping him so interested in you that the other girls won't get him away. And they'll try, believe me. Your first night on the floor will probably be as a decoration. Like her," she said, pointing to the wall.

Firefox's ears flattened. Victoria was chained to the wall, wearing tatters, as though her clothes had been ripped away or disintegrated with age. She was gagged, and wore an antique chastity belt. Her breasts were exposed, and one nipple glistened with saliva.

Victoria looked up at them, her face drawn with fatigue. When her eyes rested on the tiger, they grew fearful. Tigre pulled Firefox over to her.

"Victoria was a bad girl," Tigre explained. "Master chose her for his bed. And she ruined the night for him."

Tigre's hand glided over Victoria's breasts, extended her claws and kept stroking, so Victoria's expression became pained. Victoria tried to say something. Tigre nodded. "Yes, yes. Master forgave you. But I did not." She tapped Victoria sharply on the forehead. "There's something nasty in your little head. Something that kept you from giving Master the night he deserves. I'm going to have to work on you, work very hard to beat and flog that selfishness out of you. Yes?"

Victoria was shaking now, imploring Firefox with her eyes. For an instant, Firefox felt actual anger at her -- Why drag me into it?

Tigre leaned against the much smaller Victoria, leather and hard muscle pushing her naked body against the wall. "You miserable little bitch," Tigre whispered. "Even Master's cock isn't good enough for you?"

Guilt and shame at herself suddenly overcame Firefox. She had to deflect Tigre's attention away from the terrified Victoria. She pretended to stumble against Tigre, bounced, and started to fall.

Tigre spun and caught her so quickly that for a moment, Firefox was afraid she had telegraphed her "fall." But no, Tigre was looking genuinely surprised and even alarmed. Victoria looked at Firefox, astonished. She blinked once, forcing tears out and onto her cheeks. Firefox felt odd, sad and elated. Victoria had begged another slave for mercy, for help against Tigre, and perhaps for the first time, she had gotten it. There was gratitude there, and bewilderment.

Tigre lifted Firefox back to her feet, and patted Victoria on the side of her head. "With tits like yours, there should be guests lining up to grope you. Work harder at it. Don't just stand there like a fish. Try the terrified prisoner thing and get some of the sadists on your ass. That crying should help. If I see you nursing someone for the rest of the night, maybe I won't put you on the struggle board." Victoria nodded frantically.

Firefox was wondering what the struggle board was, but she knew she didn't want to know either. If she asked, she suspected Tigre would either show it to her or use it on her, or both. She'd need to ask the others.

Tigre led her off. On a raised table, under a spotlight, the angel sat on the demon's face, red tongue darting between her legs. Her beautiful wings spread as the demon brought her to orgasm, and the guests applauded, tossing coins into a bowl on the table.

One of them, tall and in a suit with a loose tie, walked towards them. Firefox sensed, rather than heard or saw, Tigre tense up. He stopped, appraised Firefox. She wanted desperately to turn away or cover herself.

"Taking her to the struggle board, I hope?" he asked.

"No sir, Mister Walton. At least, not yet."

He nodded, not very disappointed. He looked at Firefox, raped her with his eyes. "I saw you on stage," he said with a smile. "You were magnificent. Running from agony to orgasm and back in the space of a few minutes. This lady," he said, bowing his head respectfully towards Tigre, "this lady played your body like a violin. Or like a Stradivarius." He looked at Tigre. "With your permission?"

Tigre hesitated. "She's undergoing special taming and training."

"Of course. You wouldn't be wasting your time with her otherwise." He smiled. "When she's a star, and men and women are paying five hundred to lick her tail, I'd like to be able to say I touched her while she was still a semi-tamed animal."

"Master was quite clear," Tigre said, wavering, or pretending to. He smiled and lay a finger gently across her lips.

"Nevertheless, my angel, you will do it for the sake of what I taught you on the struggle board."

Tigre smiled, and nodded. "Yes, I'll do it for that." Firefox blinked. Tigre had been on the struggle board, whatever that was? Had she been promoted to her present position, and how did that fit in with her being used for virtual training?

She stepped behind Firefox and stood on the chain between her ankles.

Firefox suspected this man had a taste for violation, and that fighting would only excite him, so she steeled herself to look bored as his hands ran through her fur, over her breasts, pinched and tweaked at her nipples. Despite bracing herself, she panicked, almost immediately, struggled in Tigre's strong arms as he touched her. He didn't kiss or lick; he watched her face with a slight smile, enjoying her obvious discomfort. Firefox found herself nestling against Tigre, as though believing the tiger would protect her or spare her a moment of pain. Naked, helpless, a stranger's hands on her, and nothing to hope for but Tigre's pity, and Tigre's mercy was thinner than the end of her whip.

"Thank you," he said, finally. "Slave women aren't nearly as much fun when they're tamed."

Tigre inclined her head. "One of the decorations is backsliding a bit," she said. "The albino girl. I think she'll be to your taste."

"Thank you," he said. He fished coins out of his pocket, a pair of dimes. "Can I trust you to give one to the fox?" he asked. Tigre nodded, and put the coins into her belt.

"Remind me I owe you ten cents," Tigre said casually. "Not all the guests are sadists, but that's mostly what you'll be getting until you're tamed. It's you own fault if you need to be tied up before you let a man inside you."

Tigre tugged her along, past a poker game. Firefox looked down. She recognized some of the women on the cards. "Sometimes, the house lets the winning player have a night with one of the women in his hand," she said. "That's why the hottest girls are low value cards, mostly. It's fun watching them decide between a shot at four queens and the babe on the deuce. Adds something to the game."

They stopped at a table with a small sign with gold letters that read RESERVATIONS. Firefox didn't look at the man behind the desk; her eyes were locked on a silver sign inlaid on the front of the table. It was circular, a design of lines and curves that implied a chained woman, nude, on her knees in front of a seated man. Her head was about groin level.

"When is Sable free, sir?" Tigre asked.

He was a slight redhead, freckled. "She's got four guests on queue."

"But you're going to bump them, aren't you, sir?" Tigre asked.

He hesitated, and shrugged his shoulders. "If you say so. Just don't let the guests know. She shouldn't take much longer." He looked at Firefox, running his eyes over her. Firefox looked away, uncomfortably.

"Four waiting their turn," Tigre mused. "She's getting a bit of a following."

"A bit," he agreed. "Why isn't she being rented by the hour or night yet? I've had guests ask for her."

Tigre shrugged. "Not ready yet. Go figure."

An LED flashed on his board. Firefox heard a door close somewhere beyond the desk. "When they're finished, they leave through another door," Tigre explained. "More private that way. This is a classy establishment. Come on, girl."

The attendant came with them. The door behind his desk opened onto a corridor with five soundproofed doors, brightly lit compared to the floor. The slight breeze ruffled Firefox's fur, and pulled any scents out of the air. The attendant opened door three.

Room Three was darker, lit by soft, low intensity light. There was a black leather armchair with a small table and a half-full drink, and a lamp that cast a soft light on Shadowfox.

She was on her knees, ankles and wrists chained to a bar on the floor behind her. The lights cast silver highlights in her fur, outlining her. Her breasts, large and round, were exposed, her bra unfastened and pushed down to her elbows. Her panties were still on, tight and black, held up by a chain around her waist. It was, Firefox realized, a chastity belt to keep the guests out. Shadowfox looked at Firefox uncomfortably, looked away, and tried to turn, as though trying to conceal herself.

The attendant got to work, opening a small cupboard of cleaning supplies. He picked up the drink. "No," Tigre said. "Leave that, please, sir. And bring her a bowl of water. It's thirsty work."

He nodded, wiped the leather chair with strong-smelling antiseptic, and filled a small bowl with water from a bottle. He then turned to Shadowfox. He dapped at the corners of her mouth with the same rag he used on the chair, gave her some mouthwash, and held a bucket for her to spit into when she finished gargling. He got down on one knee, and squeezed one of her breasts. She flinched and turned away.

"Kiss me and mean it," he ordered. Shadowfox hesitated, turned her head, and submitted to a brief but passionate necking session as he fondled her breasts. He stopped, and put her bra back into position. "The guests like to have something to take off," he explained, presumably to Firefox. He stood and patted Shadowfox on her head. "She's all yours, Tigre," he said. "Let me know if she gives you a problem."

"I think I can handle her," Tigre said, blankly. Shadowfox turned and lapped water out of the bowl.

"No doubt. It's for the log," he explained.

"Of course," Tigre agreed.

The door closed behind him. "Ma'am," Shadowfox said softly. She lowered herself to the floor and licked the top of Tigre's foot.

"Good doggie," Tigre said. "You're here for her," she said. She sat down in the chair, tugging Firefox into an awkward position by her leash. She turned to her right, crossed her right ankle onto her left knee and turned her sole towards the black fox. "Give her a demonstration of what you do best. But first, there's some grit between my pads. Work that out, will you?"

Shadowfox looked up at Firefox, and actually looked relieved. It wasn't hard to guess why. She'd rather lick a friend.

Tigre put her hand under Firefox's butt and lifted her into her lap, pushed her own legs between Firefox's to force the red fox's legs open. Tigre reached up and loosened Firefox's muzzle. Shadowfox began licking and nibbling between the pads on Tigre's foot.

"You bitch," Firefox hissed, trembling angrily. "You vicious, pussycat cunt."

Tigre took a sip from the drink and put it back on the table. To Firefox's surprise, she pulled Firefox to her, kissing her ferociously. "There now," she said amiably, "Aren't you glad that I tightened the muzzle? Mouth off like that with an audience and I'd have to flog the shit out of you for insolence." Idly, she fondled Firefox's breast.

Shadowfox paused, and blinked in disbelief. She caught Firefox's eye, for a bewildered exchange.

Tigre didn't want to beat Firefox?

"Good thing tongue girl here didn't hear it. Did she?"

"No, ma'am," Shadowfox said respectfully.

"Attagirl. There's still something in the fur between my smallest toe and the next -- you got it, good girl. I'll tell the attendant to give you a chocolate when we're through with you."

"Thank you, ma'am." Shadowfox kissed both of Tigre's feet as the tiger manhandled Firefox into position, pushing her closer to the edge of the seat, pushing her legs open. "So," she said affably, "I want you to pay attention to what your friend does to you. It can't be the first time she's eaten you out, is it?"

"Actually," Firefox hissed, "it is."

"Really?" Tigre asked, astonished. "Two pleasure models slept in the same house for years without screwing?"

"I am not a pleasure model," Firefox said wearily. Shadowfox glanced away uncomfortably.

Tigre shrugged. "Whatever. Shadowfox, any time now."

Shadowfox looked up at Firefox hesitantly. Firefox smiled back. "It's okay, Shad."

"She doesn't need your permission," Tigre said casually. She shifted her grip on Firefox, held her so she could play with her breasts. "I've always been a bit of a tit girl," Tigre explained. "I love your rack."

Everything about this was wrong, Firefox knew. She was glad she had made love to Technofox in the cell on her first night; at least their first experience hadn't been chained, made to perform on order. She felt Shadowfox's soft breath on the delicate folds of her skin. Delicately, Shadowfox touched the tip of her tongue to Firefox's labia, dabbing lightly here and there. Tigre stopped groping her, held her lightly instead, so all she could sense was her friend's tongue between her legs. Firefox gulped. She knew that faking an orgasm simply wouldn't work, that the only way to speed this up was to climax as quickly as possible.

"You see?" Tigre said softly. "Don't go straight for the clitoris. Play around a little. Savor the taste. Your problem is that you're so sexual you get impatient." Firefox swallowed. Silverfox had once told her the same.

Firefox's ear swiveled. Someone was walking up to the door. She recognized the footstep.

Tigre turned her head as the door opened, slightly irritated. That meant she didn't identify him by footfall. "Master," she said respectfully. She nodded but didn't otherwise move. Shadowfox hesitated, and Tigre gave her a kick. "Keep going," she ordered. "Never interrupt the act of pleasuring a guest."

"Tigre," he said. He was wearing a suit jacket over dress pants and a turtleneck. His hair was in a ponytail. "What about Victoria?"

"I'm leaning on her, Master," Tigre replied.

He took off the jacket. "Don't get up. I'm not using the chair."

"Master, I --" Shadowfox started. Tigre's eyes narrowed. Shadowfox looked at her fearfully, and then at Master, who rested a hand on Tigre's shoulder.

"Yes?" he asked, kindly.

"Master," Shadowfox said, "Master, please, I'd like to kneel before you and taste you."

He took off dress shoes and socks. "No," he said firmly. "You're going to come for me."

"Master, that's not --" Shadowfox hesitated. "Master, you have hundreds of women crawling for you between their legs. Why me?"

He pulled off his sweater, and even under these circumstances, Firefox couldn't help but notice how beautiful his body was. "Because all my women deserve to climax."

"Master," she repeated, "Master, please, please don't. Tell me what I need to do instead--"

He sighed. "Now you're trying to bargain with me. You shouldn't do that. Just say 'Yes, Master,' and follow orders. It's much less effort."

"Master, I don't want to." Firefox was still, wondering if there was anything she could say or do that would deflect it away from Shadowfox. She didn't believe there was. Master had decided, for whatever reason, to do this to Shadowfox. Firefox didn't believe it had much to do with sex.

He took off his pants. His cock swung out, hard already. He knelt down next to Shadowfox, who was starting to tremble. He put his arms around her.

"Now then," he said gently. "Tell me, what rule are you breaking now?"

Shadowfox licked her lips nervously. "Master, it's not a rule. It is suggested that a slave should never be more clothed than her master."

"Yes, you're right, of course. Just a suggestion. How many hundreds of rules and suggestions for the deportment of a pleasure slave do you know?"

"Uh, Master --"

He shook his head. "Don't answer. I just wonder how a nice girl like you became so knowledgeable. I'm sure Firefox doesn't know a tenth of what you do about being a slave. I'll bet you can even tell me what comes after 'Master, if I could command you, I would say --'"

"'--Strip off my clothes and take my body for Master's pleasure,'" Shadowfox said promptly, in a soft voice, shaking.

What was this, Firefox wondered, the Credo for the Church of Cocksucking? Did people actually get paid to come up with new humiliating things to keep sex slaves busy?

And how did Shadowfox know all this?

"Is that what you want?" he asked. "Is that what you truly want?"

"Yes ... Master. But please don't."

He undid her bra, pushed it back over shaking yet unresisting shoulders. "Beautiful," he said sincerely, looking at her breasts. "Tigre, I'm surprised you let her keep this on."

"I've got my hands full here, Master," Tigre replied promptly, squeezing Firefox's breasts together.

Master chuckled. "And now to get these off," he said, touching her panties.

"Master, don't," Shadowfox said. Firefox bit her lip. Shut up, she thought, you're going to make it worse...

With a key, he undid the chain around her hips. She squatted. He shook his head. "Up and kneel," he ordered. Reluctantly, she did so, allowing him to unthread the chain from a loop in back. He put them on the floor. She knelt, naked, unable to meet Firefox's eyes. Tigre shifted forward to get a better look.

He ran a finger between her legs and she trembled. He chuckled and licked his finger. "I won't need your help this time, Tigre. I guess that tasting Firefox got her excited. Or is it anticipation? Pavlovian?"

"How strange, Master," Tigre purred. "Since that's what you'd expect from an omnisexual pleasure slave, not a light combat model. Don't you think so, Firefox?"

"Lean back," he ordered.

Shadowfox obeyed, spreading her legs. "Master, please don't do this," she said nevertheless.

"Why not?" he asked. "It gives me pleasure, it gives you pleasure, and what you want doesn't enter into the discussion."

He shifted, kneeling between her legs, between her and the chair. Firefox couldn't take her eyes away. The expression on Shadowfox's face wasn't fear, or expectation -- it was something else, some form of anxiety. Firefox wondered what Shadowfox was so upset about, and was immediately appalled at herself. How could she even think that? Shadowfox was about to be raped, and that wasn't a big deal? Was she getting so attuned to Blue Diamond already?

"Master, no," Shadowfox pleaded. "Don't put it in, no."

"You're even more turned on than I am, aren't you?" he asked. He kissed her, rested his weight against her, and guided himself into her.

Shadowfox stared at the ceiling and her lower jaw trembled as her loins accepted him into her. "Please, no," she said, hoarsely. He started to thrust, and she started to gasp, shallow at first, then deeper. They were soon synchronized. He would thrust, she gasped, closed her eyes with pleasure. He withdrew, she would open her eyes, say, "Master, stop," and he would thrust into her again.

Firefox couldn't take her eyes off them. Shadowfox squirmed, unconsciously, each time his weight left her, as though trying to escape.

"She's a beautiful animal, isn't she?" Tigre asked softly. Firefox nodded, without thinking, earning herself a tight hug. Firefox's hands were in Tigre's lap. Unconsciously, she slipped a hand down into Tigre's panties. She froze. It had seemed the natural thing to do.

Shadowfox was glowing with pleasure and excitement, even as she whispered, begging the man inside her to stop, and struggled weakly against her bonds.

Tigre's cleft was moist, and as Firefox probed gently, Tigre mewed softly once and gasped. Her clitoris was stiff, hard under her finger, close to orgasm. Shadowfox's eyes wandered over to Tigre, locked onto her, fascinated as Firefox slipped a finger inside the tiger and trailed it lightly over her clitoris. Tigre's breath became harsher, tickled the delicate hairs inside Firefox's ear. Tigre held her tighter. Soon, Firefox was working on her in earnest, staring at Shadowfox's eyes, as though Firefox was somehow pleasuring Shadowfox instead of the woman behind her.

Tigre exhaled sharply and, trembling, squeezed Firefox tightly in her strong arms. Almost immediately, Shadowfox climaxed as well, as though Tigre's expression had set her off. Master thrust into her a final time, moaning as Shadowfox's orgasm triggered his release into her. There was a moment of silence; he shifted off Shadowfox, patted her belly, as though to remind her his seed had filled her. She sighed as he withdrew.

As he stood, Tigre and Firefox both leaned forward expectantly, eyes on his penis. He knelt by Shadowfox's shoulder, grabbed her hair and pushed her mouth at his crotch. She licked and sucked him clean, and he stood, letting her lay down, breathing heavily in the fatigue and lassitude that followed a climax.

Tigre kissed Firefox a few times, turned the fox's head to lick and nibble at her snout under the muzzle. "I'm taking you back to my bed now," she breathed. Master chuckled, and poked Shadowfox with his foot. "Good girl," he said. "You liked that, didn't you? My bed tonight, or handcuffs in your cell?"

Shadowfox stared up at the ceiling, exhausted. She was breathing deeply, battered emotionally. "Handcuffs, Master. I won't invite you or anyone else I hate between my legs. Not now, not again, not ever." She closed her eyes, gritted her teeth, flattened her ears, and waited for the blow.

"That's all right," Master said. "You're a good girl for being honest." He sounded grave, slightly disappointed.

Shadowfox rolled partway over, licked his foot. "Master's kind," she said.

"Master is very indulgent with her," Tigre said, irritated at Shadowfox. "I can get her into Master's bed."

Master looked at her thoughtfully. "No, as you said, you have your hands full." He patted Firefox on her head, stroked her absently as he spoke. "Have fun with her. All the fun you want, but don't get any help with her. I don't think a dozen anonymous cocks will help her along. I think this lady needs the personal touch. And a lot of attention." His hand ran gently through Firefox's soft fur as he told a vicious sadist to work on her.

Tigre nodded. "Master," she said respectfully.

Tigre took Firefox back to her room, wordlessly. Firefox could feel her heart beating in her throat. Master had practically ordered Tigre to beat her.

Tigre pushed her over to a wall, took her leash, and attached it to a hook. Firefox didn't resist. Some insane part of her mind vetoed any resistance, as though putting up a struggle would make it worse, even though she knew beyond any doubt that Tigre would have her screaming in a few minutes.

Tigre loosened her muzzle, enough to let her speak. Firefox rested her head against the wall as Tigre stroked and caressed her with one hand; her other hand was on her whip, ready to pull it off her belt. Firefox's eyes fell on the only decoration in the room, a framed photograph on the far wall: a cheetah. Not a cheetah chimera. A real cheetah, an animal, black stripes tracing eternal tears down its muzzle, as its lanky, angular body loped lightly forward.

Oh, it was a killer, that lived by chasing down the slow and weak. Firefox stared into the cheetah's eyes, wondered which cat had more humanity and mercy.

"I don't want to beat you," Tigre said in a voice more surprised than Firefox when she heard her. "I don't understand why. You're a helpless, beautiful woman. I should crave to make you dance under my whip. And it's Master's will you should feel pain and fear, and you suffered magnificently for me on the stage, but I imagine Jamison's hands on those sweet breasts and his shaft inside you and I want to see your eyes glowing with the pleasure he saw in them. Why is that?" she asked, bewildered.

Something clicked in Firefox's mind. "Didn't he say he was a wildlife photographer?" she asked, still staring at the cheetah.

Startled, Tigre turned to follow Firefox's gaze. "Yes, I remember now. He took that picture. That must be why his name was familiar," she said, unconvinced.

"Why did you print out a copy and hang it?" Firefox asked.

Tigre blinked, fighting for words. "Do you know anything about cheetahs? In mating season, groups of males will co-operatively hunt down females, trap her until she's in heat, and take turns mating with her." She paused. "I wonder if she feels, and how she feels if she can. She looks so sad." Her voice was troubled. "I'm not certain of everything. Something's wrong with me. I need to talk to Master."

That, Firefox was convinced, was the last thing Firefox wanted. "Tigre, I don't know what it is between you and Jamison. But I know that if it's that important to you, it has to be right -- it has to be something you were designed for."

"Maybe," Tigre said hesitantly.

She licked her lips. "Tigre, you're a beautiful woman, and I'd like to make love with you."

Firefox pushed herself as close against Tigre's body as she could. She covered Tigre's mouth with her own; tasted herself on the tiger's lips as she licked at them lightly. She wondered if she should ask to be unchained -- decided it would be too suspicious.

Tigre took her hand off her whip, put her arms around her and drew her into a passionate kiss. Tigre licked and nibbled at her ear; Firefox licked and sucked at any part of Tigre's head that came within range of her mouth.

"Got to you, did I?" Tigre purred, gloating.

Firefox closed her eyes and nodded, trying to look ashamed of herself. It was surprisingly easy -- maybe because what she had said was close to the truth. And maybe that was the libido of a pleasure slave talking. No, that was crazy. Tigre had been lied to. They were using the implants to condition Foxforce. Firefox wasn't a pleasure model.

Tigre relaxed her grip and Firefox pulled away slightly, and her gaze fell off her face and onto Tigre's breasts; she lowered her mouth, kissed and licked at her cleavage, tried unsuccessfully to tug her top down with her teeth, but she was too tightly muzzled to get a good grip.

"You're a greedy little thing, aren't you?" Tigre asked, stroking her hair. Tigre let Firefox go, reached behind her back and undid a set of catches while Firefox stared, growing more excited with each moment. With every soft pop, Firefox felt a delicate twitch between her own legs, as though she were being caressed.

Tigre pulled the bustier off, reached over and put it gently on the floor. Firefox moved towards them, but Tigre leaned back with a smile, turned from her, pushed her breasts together, ran her fingers gently over them, pushed a breast up and licked her nipple. "Want a taste?" she asked.

Firefox nodded, her throat dry.

Tigre held out her hand. "Lick," she ordered.

Firefox swallowed and touched Tigre's finger with the tip of her tongue. She tasted fur, salt from sweat on her pads, and herself. "Good girl. I'll nurse you now." She pulled Firefox roughly against her, tugging her as far as the leash would allow.

Firefox licked her nipple, felt it stiffen under her tongue. She opened her mouth as wide as the muzzle allowed, and started to suck, gently at first, and then harder, nibbling with her sharp teeth as she tried to draw more of Tigre's nipple into her mouth. She felt a slight vibration, almost subsonic, before it gained strength and Tigre began to rumble with a low, audible purr. Firefox had never been intimate with a feline chimera before coming to Blue Diamond, and Tigre's purr was both exciting and so erotic she could feel her loins twitch, caressing an imaginary guest inside of her.

Tigre suddenly pulled her nipple out of Firefox's mouth, so abruptly that for a moment Firefox was afraid she had angered her. But they looked deeply into one another's eyes, nose to nose, breathing the other's breath, and their mouths clung, rough tongue touching Firefox's soft and long one, the tips darting into one another's mouth, Firefox as eager to please Tigre as any lover she had ever had, even though -- or perhaps because -- the tiger had her in chains.

"Take me to your bed," Firefox whispered.

As though mesmerized, Tigre nodded and undid Firefox's leash. She then turned her around, releasing the chain between her wrists. Firefox's hands were finally free, and she used them to draw Tigre into an embrace.

Tigre lifted her and lay her down on her bed, undoing her hobble. Still dressed apart from her breasts, Tigre embraced the naked fox, exchanging kisses, mouths opened, closed, tongues darting into the other's mouth.

Tigre slowly backed away and rolled over onto her back. She took the dildo off her belt, began to thread it into the ring at her crotch. Firefox suddenly remembered Tigre, on stage, forcing that into her and then sodomizing Technofox -- the thought of that same bit of plastic entering her again was unbearable. "Wait," Firefox said. Tigre looked over at her, inquiringly. Firefox wondered what she could say. "Do you have ... something we can both enjoy?" she asked, finally.

Tigre hesitated, looked down at the dildo in her hand, and put it on the nightstand. She opened a drawer and rummaged through it briefly, taking out something Firefox frankly didn't recognize. It was almost L-shaped, the longer end a typical artificial penis and the shorter end a handle that looked a bit like two eggs end to end.

"I put this end inside me," Tigre explained, touching the short end. Firefox hesitated; it seemed less a way for two women to make love than a prosthetic cock. Tigre had probably raped a woman with that. Somehow, that made a difference.

"Do you have something else?" Firefox asked. She kept her voice deliberately casual, trying to make it seem unimportant. If she begged or insisted or complained, Tigre would probably refuse just to remind her who was in charge.

Firefox guessed that Tigre was used to cringing obedience, or sullen or angry defiance: co-operation seemed to catch her off guard. Was it really possible that Firefox was the first woman to simply go along with it, without crawling or fighting?

Well, maybe. Chances were that the vast majority of women that Tigre had used were trained pleasure models. And Shadowfox said that pleasure models were trained using VR simulations of Tigre -- Tigre was their bogeyman, a figure of stark terror; submission to her would be second nature. Only chimera without pleasure slave training would be likely to interact with her differently.

"Ehrm, I think so ..." the tiger rummaged. Firefox made up her mind to acquiesce with what ever Tigre took out. Tigre was still a dominant, and Firefox had the feeling that if she pushed too hard Tigre would snap back, maybe even to the point of hitting her.

Firefox wasn't particularly fond of toys; they always struck her as faintly ridiculous. Tigre took out a double-headed symmetrical dildo, about a foot long. Before Firefox could nod, Tigre rested it on the nightstand and undid the harness on her hips; apparently, she had made her decision. She lowered the harness and her panties to the floor; Firefox stared at the delicate pink showing through the thin fur with unfeigned fascination.

With her back turned, Tigre slipped the head into herself, and came back into the bed. She put her arm on Firefox, and Firefox shivered to the core of her being. The tiger lay on her side next to Firefox, reached down and lifted her leg. Firefox obediently held herself open as Tigre used her hand to guide the other end into her. Firefox noticed there was no hesitation, no wait for permission: it was Tigre's decision to penetrate her. The toy was symmetrical but there was no doubt who was fucking who.

Tigre took her hand away from the dildo and rested her fingers on Firefox's shoulders, staring her in the eyes, as though daring her to flinch or turn away. Instead, Firefox opened her legs a bit wider and licked Tigre's hand as the tiger slowly pushed it into her wet and ready opening. Soon, they were belly to belly, their breasts and mounds touching, nose to nose.

"It's a little tricky to work," Tigre said. "One of us needs to relax while the other holds tight while we thrust. Then we switch off. Humans have a harder time of it. They don't have the strength. The other one's easier to use."

"I'll bet I can pull it out of you," Firefox said, and grinned.

Tigre blinked. "You think so, girl?" She returned the smile.

Firefox kissed the end of her nose. "Try me. Ready?"

She squeezed. She had noticed a raised ring around the shaft, and she was able to pull it a little deeper inside herself, felt the head bump against her cervix. She was pretty confident she had more of it inside her than Tigre did, and a better grip.

Tigre slowly moved her hips backwards, trying to draw it out of Firefox. That was a mistake. Although it slipped a bit out of the fox, Tigre lost more. She realized this and stopped, so Firefox squeezed more tightly and pulled her own ass away from Tigre to keep it moving. Tigre suddenly thrust towards Firefox, trying to get more of it into herself, but Firefox nimbly jerked away. Tigre froze and they looked down; only the tip was still inside the tiger, while the fox still had almost half the length inside of her.

Firefox closed her eyes and kissed her as she slowly pushed her hips towards Tigre, sliding it back inside her until their hips touched again. Firefox's tail trembled with the exertion.

"Damn, you're strong," Tigre said with some surprise, kissing her face lightly. "You must have exercised a lot. Why didn't you pull it out?" Tigre asked.

"Because I like pushing it into you," Firefox explained. And, for an odd moment, she realized she was telling the truth.

She pulled it almost all the way out, and started to push it back in, slowly. Tigre mewed and squirmed. The cat closed her eyes.

"Are you thinking of Jamison?" Firefox asked abruptly. Tigre looked startled, guilty, and her eyes began to narrow.

To forestall that, she touched Tigre's ear with her lips. "Want me to tell you what it was like?" she didn't wait for a reply. "Jamison was sweet to us, he made me feel like a lady even when he was focusing his camera on my breasts. I wanted him so bad, I pulled his dick out and sucked it good and hard. It felt so sweet going in, so hungry to make him come into me."

Firefox hesitated. Reacting or noticing would be the worst thing she could do, but Tigre was weeping silently.