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Sara awoke to the sound of rain gently falling against the sheet metal roof above. It was warm and humid inside the room, and it made the raccoon girl feel stuffy and sticky. She wondered if all that she remembered was real or a terrible nightmare. Then her pain returned, the horrible throbbing in her arm, the ache in her abdomen. Her paws and fingers burned like fire and her knee twinged too. Sara looked at her paws. They had wrapped them in gauze. Using her teeth, she tore the gauze off and gingerly lapped at her bloody pawtips. Why would anyone do this to her? She curled herself up and wept. After a few minutes, something inside her told her to get a grip. She knew she needed to be level-headed if she was to see this through.

Sara sat up and looked around the small room. She had completely lost track of time, but she knew that it had been a while since she had anything to eat. Her stomach growled as if it had heard her thoughts. She gently rubbed her soft empty tummy, trying to console it. Even more urgent was a pressing need to relieve herself. She eyed the bucket near the door and contemplated its use. As unpleasant as it seemed, the urge was dire and she gingerly crawled across the floor toward it.

When she reached the bucket's edge, Sara popped the plastic cover off, and the air was filled with a nasty, overwhelming odor she could only describe as a mix of ammonia and manure. The unpleasant concoction burned the inside of her nostrils and throat. Sara almost gagged from the intensity of the rotten stench permeating the room. She decided to make haste despite the circumstances and clamored up onto her feet.

Not wanting to sit on the top of the bucket, Sara squatted over it as best as she could. Hovering precariously just inches from the rim, the young raccoon woman released her load. The sound of her urine stream hitting the bottom of the bucket told her that she had hit her target. Her fluffy tail twitched and she closed her eyes from the feeling of relief. Sensing she was nearing completion, she peered around the bucket. Sara was pleased that she spotted a half roll of toilet tissue on the floor between the bucket and the wall. Still kneeling, she picked it up and tore off a modest amount to clean herself. Finished with her duties, she tossed the used tissue into the bucket and put the lid on, checking carefully that it was snugly tight.

Sara stood up and turned toward the door. Upon examination, she noticed a hasp for a padlock fastened on the right side of the door frame about three-quarters of the way up from the floor. A keyed padlock hung locked from a staple on the door opposite the hasp. The door was of solid construction, it appeared to be unfinished oak with no doorknob. In its place was a small metal handle placed vertically eight inches below the metal lock plate. Sara looked for hinges on the door but it was no use, the door swung outward. She placed her muzzle against the door and tried to squint through the crack but could see nothing.

Sara sighed heavily and slumped down, her back against the door. Her right arm throbbed, and she massaged it through the cloth gently with her bloodied paw. It didn't hurt as badly as it did earlier, and she wondered if it was broken after all. Slowly and carefully, Sara rotated her arm. It twinged to some extent but was by no means unbearable aside from a dull ache. She was thankful that it wasn't worse than she thought. Sara glanced at the wall of shackles and winced uncomfortably. She studied the walls and floor, looking for any means of escape, but with no luck.

Looking back at the soiled mattress lying on the floor she realized there was one place she hadn't bothered to check. Sara cautiously stood up and limped back to the mattress. She knelt down on all fours and grabbed a corner of it with her left paw. She pulled hard to flip it over. The heavy mattress made a sticky, ripping sound as it broke free from the floor. It hadn't been moved for quite some time, as the bottom side was mildewed from moisture. A musty, moldy smell was apparent. The floorboards were dark, cracked and warped from neglect. Sara put her paw on the damp, dark floor to see if it was soft. It had indeed softened from rot, but it only seemed to be on the surface. The floorboards were thick. She possibly could have clawed her way through the floorboards eventually, if she still had any claws.

Sara sighed and started to flip the mattress back in position when something caught her eye. There, in the middle of the floor where the mattress once lay stood the rusty head of a nail sticking up out of a floorboard about an inch. Sara gasped and quickly leaned the mattress back against the wall. She grabbed the nail and pulled with all her might. Slowly, the nail groaned as it pulled out of the wood. It popped free suddenly, sending the raccoon girl backward onto her rump. In her paw she held a seven inch spike. She scurried back to the hole in the board from whence it came. The floor wood still had two more nails, their heads also sticking up, but only slightly. Sara picked at it a bit with the sharp end of her nail, but then gave up. She sat up and flipped the mattress back into place, making sure that it was exactly where it had been before.

Crawling across the mattress, Sara tucked the nail under the edge taking extra care that it was safely hidden. She laid back and stared up at the ceiling. Warily, she closed her eyes and listened to the gentle sound of the raindrops against the roof. The low roll of thunder competed with the loud growl from Sara's stomach. She rubbed it softly and wondered with despair if she was going to die.

After some time, the rain quieted, and all was still in the little shack. Sara listened to the rise and fall of her breath, which was occasionally interrupted by the sound of her hunger protests. Than a new sound caught her attention. It sounded like a faint, squishing sound and she silenced her breath to focus in on the noise. Fear began to well up inside her when she realized that the sound was getting louder and closer. Footsteps! Sara crawled up and tucked herself into a corner, shivering.

The noise stopped just outside the door to the shack and she could hear the slide latch move. Base instinct kicked in and she bared her teeth and gave a low chirping growl. The door slowly swung open and a bright circle of light shone on the empty mattress, then panned around the room until it landed on Sara's face. She squinted through the light and could make out the figure of Jake in the doorway, puffing on a cigarette. She glanced past him into the darkness and then realized he was alone. She looked back up at Jake and snarled. Caught slightly off-guard, Jake coughed violently and took a step back. He was in miserable shape.

Keeping an eye on her, he placed a small metal box on the floor near the bucket, then stepped out and closed the door. Sara listened as Jake latched it. She stayed motionless in the corner as the sound of the footsteps faded to silence. Staring intently at the metal box, Sara wondered what was in the metal box. She moved out of the corner and sat down in the middle of the mattress. She could make out a cartoonish figure on the box's side. It was rectangular in shape, twice as tall as it was wide, and three times as long. A lunchbox?

Sara was fortunate to have some of the stale, smelly air of the room exchanged with fresh night air when Jake opened the door. She could slightly detect a familiar scent coming from the box. Her keen sense of smell told her stomach to investigate the source of the increasingly delectable odor. She crawled over, cautiously picked up the box by its handle, and brought it back with her to the center of the mattress. The figure she saw was of a fat orange cartoon tabby cat. He was lounging on a pillow with a fish in his mouth. His smile was almost mocking in nature.

Sara scowled and unlatched the box, opening it carefully. Inside she found two sandwiches wrapped loosely in wax paper and a thermos with the same cartoon cat on it. At this point, she was skeptical. Why did they bother to feed her? She took one sandwich out and unfolded the wax paper and sniffed it. The irresistible aroma of tuna fish filled her senses. Tuna was Sara's favorite food. She scowled again. 'It must be tainted,' she thought. She threw the sandwich down, pushed the box away and buried her face in her paws.

Sara's mind reeled as she tried to justify eating those sandwiches. If she ate the sandwiches and they were poisoned, she would certainly die, but even if she didn't eat them, those humans would probably kill her anyway. Sara's stomach was tied in knots with fits of anticipation. She rationalized her situation further, how painful can poisoning be, anyway? It couldn't hurt any worse than starving to death. She was sure that those humans could come up with far worse ways to torture her. Sara finally made up her mind. She'd rather die alone from food poisoning then have to see her captors torture her any further. In fact, for that reason, she actually hoped that the food was poisoned.

Sara gave a long, sad sigh and pulled the box to her. Taking the wax paper off of the sandwich, she held it to her lips and took a bite. The taste was exquisite to her palate and she gulped it down hungrily. It was delicious, but Sara could detect a slight off-taste. She ran her tongue over her split lip and tender gums from Jake's brutal attack on her the night before. Her mouth still hurt and she could taste the salty flavor of blood. After she had finished the first tuna sandwich, she uncapped the thermos and sniffed the contents. 'Grape juice,' she concluded, 'Oh well, better than nothing at all.' Sara poured some into the thermos' cap and drank it down. The cool juice was fruity and sweet with a refreshingly tart aftertaste. Her hunger finally sedated, she decided to save the other sandwich for later. Placing the thermos back inside, Sara closed the lid on the box and set it beside her on the mattress.

Gently she laid down on her side and yawned. Instead of silence, Sara was pleased to hear the lulling sound of crickets outside. Overhead, three moths competed for dominance over the dim light bulb. Soon Sara began to feel a warm sensation radiating out from inside her. She figured that the poison must be taking effect. But strangely, instead of searing pain, she felt...relaxed?

Sara flipped over on her back and rubbed her fuzzy tummy. It felt soft and warm under her raw pawtips. She sighed gently and closed her eyes. Slowly she moved a paw up to her small, pert breasts, and caressed them. They felt sensual to her loving touch, and her nipples hardened and visibly peeked out from her fur. Sara couldn't understand why she was aroused, nor did she feel like thinking about it. Any feeling other than pain and misery was a welcome change.

While she fondled her nipples with her right paw, she spread her legs and slowly eased her free paw down her belly and between her open thighs. Sara lazily played across the silky fur on her pubic mound. Reaching up, she put two fingers in her mouth to moisten the furry tips and slid them back down. She drew in a breath as she gingerly parted the soft fur exposing her moist slit. Easily finding her delicate clitoris, she gently massaged it. The sensation was exhilarating, every stroke intensified her desire. Sara exhaled with a low moan of pure bliss.

"Ooohhh... mmmmmm....."

Her tender pawtips didn't seem to bother her, the pain only heightened her pleasure even more. Increasing her speed and pressure made her wet pussy tingle with passion. Her breath came faster and more ragged as she playfully tweaked her sensitive nipples. She whimpered enthusiastically in mounting anticipation of her impending orgasm.

"Sssss mmmm.... ooohhhhh huhhh huhhh nngggg...."

She didn't want anything more urgently than an explosive release. Placing her right paw on the mattress, Sara bit her lower lip and pinched her eyes shut. Feeling her clit stiffen under her steady rhythmic kneading she held her breath as she climaxed, digging her pawtips into the soiled fabric of the mattress. She arched her back as she came, wave after wave of ecstasy washed over her body. Panting from the seemingly spiritual experience, Sara lay trembling, body bathed in sweat. Her thighs were soaked with her juices. She brought her paw to her lips and tasted the tangy, salty flavor of her wetness.

As wonderful as that seemed, Sara felt unsatisfied. She wanted more. After resting momentarily, she turned over on all fours and reached between her spread legs with her right paw. Sara gasped as she plunged one pawtip, then two into her tight, wet pussy. She couldn't believe how hot and slippery she felt on the inside and how incredibly sensual she felt. She thought about Tag, wishing he was there with her now. She had fantasized about him before, his beautiful brown eyes, his soft copper fur. She imagined him kneeling behind her, plunging his hard, thick shaft into her, and began to whine with delight.

Sara laid her shoulders against the mattress and pushed her tail end up into the air to try to achieve deeper penetration with her pawtips. Reaching under with her left paw, she diddled her clit while increasing the tempo of her deep thrusting with her right. She closed her eyes again as she pictured Tag pounding into her. Suddenly and unexpectedly, she felt her ass being lifted up off of the mattress. She gasped with fright as she felt a hand around the base of her bushy tail. Looking back over her shoulder, she saw Jake. He was naked from the waist down and sporting a tremendous erection.