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Part Three

Lapis loaded Geren roughly into the back of a little security runabout, then climbed in front. He picked his way through flooded streets before coming to a stile across a wall of sandbags; once across, the streets were suddenly far cleaner. He drove on until he came to the gate of a little set of walled-off cottages in the shadow of the massive factory.

Geren let his weight settle limply as the wolf unloaded him and untied his legs. When commanded to walk, Geren sat on the half-flooded sidewalk in the driving rain and would not move. When dragged by his hair, Geren twisted and screamed in pain, but did not relent. When at last, cursing and soaked, Lapis undid his broad belt and threatened him with it as he lay on the ground, Geren spat at his feet.

It didn't have the effect he'd anticipated. Rather than beating him, the wolf merely sighed and stuffed the belt into his pocket. Grasping him by the scruff, Lapis lifted his feet with his other paw and carried him through the gate, which shut behind him with an authoritative 'thunk'.

"C'mon, boy," the wolf rumbled. "You're not a local. Don't belong with the rabble, and they won't accept you. That little slut just wanted degrade you to his level--he would have taken everything you had and left you in a gutter. Happens all the time."

"No. I had nothing left, except him." Geren spoke breathlessly, swallowing a sob. "Please, do what you want to me, but at least go check on him. He could be hurt."

"Don't be so stupid, boy." Lapis paused at the little cottage's inset door, frowning down at him. "You were out there less than a week--you don't know how it works. Locals here, they aren't the same as people, you gotta understand. They're parasites--bottom-feeders. No morals. And anyway, I hit that fox real hard when he came at me. Folded up and hit head-first, and wasn't breathing."

Geren jammed his eyes shut and shook his head; more sobs rose from his belly, and what little fight remained in him trickled away.

Lapis snorted and rolled his eyes. He tapped his paw against the doorplate, and the door swung open to reveal a darkened little two-room cottage with barred, shuttered windows. With a hardened distaste, he hauled Geren through the doorframe and dropped him onto the floor of the main room, paw still tight around his scruff.

"Suck it up, boy. Listen here--your ex told me to watch out for you. Now, I promised I would, but you're a damn handful already. I can smell that that fleabag fucked you, and I can smell that he marked you. Now I've gotta get you tested. If you're not clean I ain't touchin' you."

Geren felt his heart jump, and he lifted his muzzle, teeth bared in defiance. "Well sorry to disappoint you, but I don't think I am, because I don't think he was."

"Feh." Lapis released him in disgust, shoving him away with his hindpaw. "By the gods."

"Yeah, I'm sad too," Geren muttered sarcastically.

"You will be. I promised I'd take care of you, so I will...but if you're not clean, you're gonna regret it bad. Got Paulie coming by in a little while to test you."

Geren cowered.

"And I have ways to get my fun no matter what you got, even if it means renting you out to the locals and charging admission for the rest of your life." The wolf lifted a bulky, wide collar from a countertop and approached him with a dissatisfied glower. "Here's a little present for you. Whatever you do, oh please don't fight back."

Geren swallowed the lump in his throat, shrinking away from the approaching canid. His weak show of resistance was just that, and a few seconds of squirming and growling later he heard the collar's lock snick shut behind his head. He slumped, laying passively as the wolf pushed him onto his back and lifted his legs. Rough paws locked a little cage tightly around his sex and scrotum, and cool metal spikes found flesh beneath the fur of his sac.

"This'll shock the lights out of you if you take one step out the door, and every time you move an inch after you wake back up, 'less it's back inside. It'll notify me, too. I'll come and drag your limp ass back in, and I'll make you regret it. Don't try it. Don't even think about removing it."

Pain shot through Geren's body, and his balls felt like they were being crushed. He arched backwards, out of control, slamming to the floor and splaying his toes, convulsing in a rictus of agony. His tongue clove to the roof of his mouth. After a moment, the effect dissipated and he lay gasping and panting on the ground, feeling sick to his stomach. He drooled against the floor, ears flattening as his nose told him that he'd wet himself slightly.

"Filthy little shit, can't even control yourself." Lapis sounded amused; he tapped his shiny wristband, and Geren blinked wet eyes up to look at it, noticing that it had colored buttons along its length. "You can see, I can do it manual if you don't do what I say. I will until you behave. You're good? I feed you, and maybe I'm nicer. You're bad? This isn't all I've got to hurt you with. Now, bathroom's behind you--you have it completely clean before Paulie shows up or you get a harder jolt."

Geren had long since finished by the time Paulie arrived. She treated him like a piece of meat, handling him with thick rubber gloves as she extracted samples from all over him. To his not-entirely-happy surprise, he tested clean; even the samples of Lysi that the other wolf retrieved from him were completely free of pathogens. Lapis became almost instantly more smug, and it seemed to Geren that he couldn't wait to get Paulie out the door after she announced the results. As the two wolves stood in the doorway making their farewells, he curled up around his paws, tears soaking the fur beneath his eyes and wetting his cheeks.

A devastating sense of loss hung over him, worse than he'd ever felt--despite their incredibly brief association, Lysi had made him feel special in a way he'd never felt capable of before. Watching Lapis close the door and set its locks, however, Geren was unable to even summon the hatred and anger he knew he should feel when looking at Lysi's killer.

He just felt empty.

"I'm sorry, Lyss," Geren whispered to himself. He hung his head as the wolf paced slowly towards him, licking his lips; a rough lupine paw snapped a leash to his collar and tugged firmly on it, and he followed, sullen, as the wolf led him into his bedroom. Unlike Lyss, there was nothing subtle or passionate about Lapis' interests, and there was nothing arousing about being picked up and thrown onto his big, soft bed. Bondage gear hung from the walls, strange looking furniture was scattered around the room, and there was a cage at the side of the bed that was adorned with a thick padlock.

Noticing his glance, the wolf smirked and smacked his rump. "That's your bed, little slut. Now, shall we start with where that fox left off?"

Geren struggled, but only because he felt he should; the wolf effortlessly latched his paws to solid cuffs attached to the bed. A muzzle was strapped around his muzzle, and chocks wedged between his rear teeth, holding his mouth open. Synthetic caps were pressed onto his teeth, rendering them rounded and blunt.

"Good boy," Lapis sneered, inspecting his handiwork. Apparently satisfied, he began to undress himself. Clothes piled on the floor, and Geren shuddered at what he saw. The wolf was made of muscle; when he slid out of his pants, Geren could see that his erect cock was proportional length to his height...but almost obscenely thick, nearly as wide as Geren's forearm. The foreskin had been cut away, leaving a broad, pink, spear-shaped head.

Lapis swung back onto the bed and rose to his knees, devouring Geren with his eyes.

"You'll learn to like this," the wolf said with a smile that didn't fit his face. He reached out a paw to squeeze Geren's muzzle, then slapped his length against his cheek. Up close, the veiny, engorged penis seemed even larger and thicker than it had before, and it smelled very strongly of male wolf. Geren closed his eyes, doubting that he could even fit his jaws around it.

Fortunately, that wasn't what Lapis had in mind.

The bed sank around him as the wolf shifted around until his ass hung just over Geren's muzzle. Unlike the fox's lovely petit pink rear, Lapis' rump was broad and heavy; the sweaty, musky flesh around his tailhole a dark grey beneath his fur. Slowly he sank back until he was astride Geren's face, hot and moist against spread coyote lips.

"Lick," Lapis commanded, then reinforced his command with a jolt to Geren's balls. Fighting back nausea, Geren began to slowly lap, ears flattening as his muzzlefur was saturated with the wolf's musk. After a moment, he tried to draw back and catch a breath, but the wolf pressed down more firmly, pressing his head firmly back into the soft bed.

Geren couldn't breathe; he struggled and writhed, almost desperate to catch a breath.

"Lick," Lapis growled, and shocked him again.

Desperately, Geren licked and lapped. Every exhalation was answered by the utter inability to draw more air in, and every struggle was met with excited groans from the wolf. Several more times, Lapis shocked him, almost gratuitously, his paw busily stroking his own stiff length. As writhing became more desperate and his vision began to dim, Lapis at last pulled away, leaving him gasping for breath. Lapis leaned down and sniffed at his muzzle, then nosewrinkled.

"Told ya you were filthy," he snort-laughed.

Geren hadn't the energy to even put up token resistance as his restraints were shifted and he was flipped over. A calloused paw rubbed some slick synthetic goo between his cheeks, and a broad head nudged up under his tail; for the third time in far too short a time, he felt himself being spread wide by the tip of a hard cock. Lapis removed the chocks from his muzzle and closed the muzzle tightly around it, buckling it shut and bringing Geren's teeth together almost painfully. No sooner had he finished than he grasped Geren's shoulders and thrusted as hard as he could. Geren's choked squeal of pain was only the beginning; the wolf was heavy and well-lubricated, but Geren was being stretched to his utter limit, and so it took a few more hard slams for the wolf to finally nestle his crotch against tawny-furred rump.

Pain radiated from his undertail, and he could feel a great pressure against his insides as Lapis began to slowly grind against him. Grinding moved to hard, short thrusts, then slowly to long, deep, brutal slams that flattened him against the bed; a paw held his hair, pressing his muzzle deep into a pillow to muffle his yelps. It took a tremendous amount of work for him to get any breath at all, and after a while the pain became dull and muted, competing for his attention with the burning in his chest. Eventually it reached equilibrium as he adapted to anoxia. Snot, saliva, condensation and drool coated the soft pillow beneath his face, and the wolf continued to slam forward for what to Geren felt like hours, displaying endless stamina as he bred him mercilessly.

At long last, the wolf finally plowed deep and held, growling and howling as he squirted deep within Geren's insides, thrusting hard for a few more minutes before finally collapsing atop. For hours after, Geren lay beneath the heavy form, wheezing for breath; eventually, despite hunger, anguish and pain, he fell asleep.

The next morning, Lapis woke him with a gentle slap across the face. He was leashed once more and dragged into the shower, where Lapis replaced Lysi's scent with his own. An hour later, as he prepared to leave, the wolf gave Geren a large list of work to do and told him the locations of the cleaning supplies.

"So you get it, right? This place will sparkle when I return, right?"

"Yeah," Geren muttered, hanging his head.

A sudden unexpected shock dropped him to his knees, and he gasped, curling around his middle.

"'Yes sir,'" Lapis snarled. "Get this straight. You'll show me proper respect, especially when company is over. Now what was that again?"

"Yes sir," Geren whispered, though it made him feel nauseous to obey.

"Much better. I better be blown away by how nice this place looks, or tonight I won't be nearly as kind as I was last night."

"Yes sir," Geren whispered meekly.

Lapis eyed him for a moment, then nodded and left.

When Lapis came home ten hours later, he reeked of sweat, and there were spatters of dried blood in his fur. He blew in like a storm, but paused just inside the door, eyes narrowing.

Geren cowered in the doorway to the kitchen, watching. His paws hurt from cleaning, and he was wheezing from the dust that he'd kicked up.

"Boy! Come here," the wolf growled, pushing the door gently shut behind him and leaning against the wall.

Overriding his instincts to hide, Geren forced his legs to carry him into the room, tail tucked, eyes down.

"Sir?"

"Had a rough day. Help me get my boots off."

The wolf raised his hindpaws one at a time, and Geren gingerly unbuckled his big, armored boots, sliding them off and setting them beside the door with trembling paws.

"This looks good," Lapis rumbled, squinting a bit as he looked around. "Better than I expected. I'm almost disappointed. You're a good little slut, aren't you?"

Geren looked away and closed his eyes; the thought of Lysi's face chilled the slight pleasure he felt from the mild praise. He pressed his lips together and said nothing, sickened by the reality of sliding inexorably into this poor excuse for a life. Just weeks ago, he had thought himself ordinarily happy, with a good job, a boyfriend, what he thought to be a reasonable amount tucked away in savings, and a clear path forward in life.

It seemed a lifetime ago, a dream misremembered from which he had fallen upon waking, tumbling haplessly through nearly his full gamut of emotions to arrive here. Here, where his sole remaining chance at contentment was constrained to morsels of praise from one who treated him like a pet.

He raised his head and looked up at the tired-looking Lapis.

"I want you to let me go," he murmured.

"What?" Lapis asked, voice soft.

"Please, just let me go. You can't keep me here--it's not fair. It's not right. You can do what you like to me, but please... promise you'll let me go soon." Geren's voice trembled with fear.

Lapis gazed down at him for a while, expression cool. Geren grew weaker with each passing moment, wanting to fall at his feet and beg forgiveness; the only thing that kept him standing was his memory of Lysi, and the knowledge that he was facing his killer. After a time, the wolf straightened, slowly extending his paw to clench around Geren's collar, then slowly lifting until his feet barely touched the ground. He leaned forward, nose to nose.

"No."

"Please," Geren wrapped thin paws around wide lupine wrists, his voice strained. "Why not?"

The wolf tightened his grip.

"Promised your ex."

"He couldn't want...this," Geren's voice was thin from the pressure on his larynx.

"This is for your own good." Lapis dropped him, shoving him backwards onto the floor and standing over him. "Food and medical care. Warm, clean place to sleep, just like the factory--you'll grow to appreciate it, mark my words."

"I won't," Geren said, then shook his head. "I need to be free."

"My ass," Lapis growled, then reached down to grab him by the scruff once more, nascent benevolence evaporating. He lifted Geren roughly, undoing his own belt with his free paw and moving towards his bedroom.

Once more, Geren found himself face down on the bed. He didn't even bother resisting as he was locked in place.

"Hungry?" Lapis' voice was close, fetid breath wafting across his muzzle. "Too bad. You get nothing until you apologize and beg to stay. You were so good earlier, cleaning up like that. Shame you ruined it all. Now I've gotta punish you, little slut."

Geren felt his tail roughly lifted out of the way. He knew what was coming, but he had no intention of giving Lapis the satisfaction; he took a big muzzlefull of pillow and squeezed his eyes shut, bracing himself against any reaction.

The first blow was far more painful than he'd expected, and he twitched in anticipation of the second, ears back to listen to his tormentor. The second blow fell across his rump in the same spot as the first, and pain coruscated through him. The third brought his eyes open once more, and the fourth had him straining against this metal bonds, teeth poking holes in the stiff pillowcase. The fifth and sixth had his heart pounding in his throat, and on the seventh he yelped, trying to writhe away but unable to gain purchase. The eighth, ninth and tenth brought more yelps and barks of pain and fear; by the fifteenth he was whimpering and spluttering constantly.

On the eighteenth, he let go of his bitehold and screamed out, his light muscles straining against his restraints. Lapis laughed a nasty little laugh and began to beat his rump quickly with the belt, each hard blow following quicker the last. When at last Geren broke down, sobbing and crying and begging for him to stop, his reprieve was only momentary. The wolf adjusted his restraints until his legs were spread, then straddled his head, forcing his muzzle firmly into the pillow just before bringing the belt down between his legs. The smack of thick leather across his metal-wrapped balls and sore undertail reached his brain moments before the pain.

Mercilessly, relentlessly, Lapis beat him. By the time the wolf subsided and tossed his belt to the side, Geren was hoarse and nauseous, warm and blurry with pain.

"Lots to say, slut. Didn't get most of it--You were trying to say you were sorry, right?" Lapis rubbed his rump roughly.

"Yes! Yes," Geren blathered, ears flat.

Another crushing shock nearly made him vomit.

"Sir."

"Yessir, yessir," Geren gurgled.

"Making progress," Lapis sounded smug. "Now it's time to fuck."

For weeks, Geren cleaned and polished and licked, sucked and swallowed, and screamed into pillows, gags, hoods and even a tub full of water. He was used and punished, the abuse punctuated infrequently by rough petting and little rewards and reprieves. When he began to refuse food, he was force-fed. When he refused to drink, liquid was forced down his gullet. Occasionally Lapis would come home drunk, or drink heavily upon his arrival, and on those nights it went much worse for Geren. After one particularly bad night nearly a month in, as he lay in his little cage, bloated from being overfed, bleeding from all manners of injuries, crying softly in hurt and pain, he thought back on his life and how far he'd come just to end up here.

Looking out through his tears and the bars of the little cage, he could see himself watching the next twenty years passing by from the inside of this little house. Perhaps he'd be broken by the wolf in a moment of overenthusiasm, or die of breath-play taken a little too long. Perhaps once he was worn down enough, he would simply be disposed of. Only ignominious endings awaited to conclude his inconsequential life, and he wanted no more from it.

He sighed quietly, imagining himself curled up in Lysi's arms once more, and the thought brought him solace; despite their fleeting time together, memories of Lysi always dominated his reflections. The one single day they'd had, the silly, premature confessions of love, but mostly the passions and emotions, and the desperate need for affection, that mutual compatibility that had bound them together so firmly. He sighed, tilting his head; as if in a dream, he imagined he could hear Lysi's voice, arguing softly with Coriagh. He closed his eyes, trying to focus on what was said; naturally, the more he focused the harder it became to hear, as if his mind acknowledged that the fox was out of reach forever. A new wave of grief struck him, and he bit his lower lip to keep silent lest he wake the snoring Lapis.

He hadn't come to enjoy the wolf's attentions. He didn't want to enjoy the wolf's attentions, but he suspected that he would eventually become Lapis' creature whether he intended to or not.

The thought sickened him further. For the first time in his life, he began to reflect on the possibility that life--this life--really wasn't worth living; while he'd always said 'where there's life, there's hope', his hope had failed, and life was now naught but pain. Some cultures believed that death was just the beginning of new adventures, and some that death was a release to be with those who had gone before. He had always believed it merely the end of an organic process--having seen no magic in his mother's wasting death or his father's failure to return--but the thought that he might have a chance to see his fox again was a comforting fancy; it brought him enough peace that, at length, he was able to find sleep.

The next day dawned cold and icy, and Geren woke to Lapis looming over his cage. The wolf hauled him roughly from the cage dragging him into the shower and hosing him down with cold water from the externally-run water lines, as usual. As usual, when the wolf finished rinsing and drying his shivering form, he was 'marked' once more ("so you remember your place") and given his list of daily chores. It had become a short list. Once he'd finished donning his gear, Lapis patted Geren's rump, slid into his boots, and left without a word.

Geren felt completely dead inside. The morning had brought no surcease from his dark thoughts, and the hurt had only deepened. Ears perked, he listened for the wolf's runabout to drive off; no sooner had the vehicle receded in the distance than he began searching around for some way to effect a reasonably painless end. Most of the drawers were locked, as usual. He briefly considered slicing his throat with an eating dagger, but the three stored in the kitchen were hideously dull, and he decided it too painful and too risky--he'd seen a coworker almost die of an arterial wound from an accident on the lift floor; it had been a horrifying scene, and doubted that he would be able to follow through with inflicting that on himself. Even the thought made him shudder.

After a few minutes of digging around and finding little, he flopped against a wall and slid down it to land on his butt, paws balled up around a sheet of waterproof flex-wrap. He couldn't think of a proper way to secure it to his face, so he tried just wrapping it around his muzzle. As soon as it became difficult to breathe, he panicked and yanked it back off.

Though he tried twice more, he was unable to suppress his overpowering survival instinct. Trembling from oxygen deprivation, he flung the sheet away and banged his head hard against the wall, crying out in frustration. As he stood once more, deciding to attempt to drown himself in the tub--a thought that, admittedly, terrified him immensely--something caught his eye, hanging from the wall of the bedroom.

His leash.

He fingered his collar softly.

The irony appealed to him, in some strange way.

He knew little about what he was doing, but he was fairly certain he'd want a long drop to make for a quick end; there was a little crate in the closet, perhaps a quarter of a meter tall, and he retrieved it, looking it over and deciding it adequate. Moments later, he had climbed up the headboard of the bed to pull down the long, pink leash. The metal end he lofted over a ceiling support beam then passed back through the paw-loop at the other end. He pulled it taut, but found it slightly too long; he tied several take-up knots with increasingly shaky paws until the length was right.

Increasingly certain of his plan--and increasingly terrified--he set the crate beneath the dangling lead, then stepped up onto it. Turning his collar until its attachment ring was at the back, he then clipped on the double-latch, choking back a little sob of pain, fear and regret. Tears ran from his eyes to drip from the tip of his nose, and he held Lysi's lovely face in his minds' eye.

With that mental image, he tried to kick the crate out from under him, but stumbled; fear shot through him, and he stood back up with a little involuntary curse, coughing softly. After a few minutes of calming himself, he settled down into the collar and tried again.

This time, it scittered well away from him, and he fell forward.

The leash proved far more elastic than he'd guessed, and one of his knots gave slightly; his weight stretched it and his toes found the ground. His breath caught, and he panicked, trying to stand on his tip-toes, raising his paws to clutch at the leash. His eyes watered; he couldn't stand enough, and he couldn't pull enough. His mouth stood open, blood dribbling from his bitten tongue; after struggling for what felt like hours, his vision at last began to darken around the fringes and lose distinctiveness. Gradually, warmth supplanted pain and he gave in, settling into the pressure from the collar, sweaty paws slipping off the leash and flopping to hang from his arms.

As the world grew dark, his mind began to play tricks on him, and he surfed through demi-coherent images of the factory and his recent past, and the bangs and clattering noises of the lifter floor as if he could hear them from far away; the last thing he saw before everything ceased was a faint vision of Maven's horrified face.