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"The Flesh Trade

by, WolfHound Baxton

Part 8: The Final Fortress

---

Slave C whimpered and groaned on the small metal cot in his cell. This was all the naked and collared and chastity-caged border collie had to sleep on, cold metal. There was no comfort in this place except for a small metal toilet in the corner of his small cage, though it was unusable as the bowl was covered by a metal panel. The only spice in the otherwise dull metallic room were two photographs of Lupercus, the white wolf who had enslaved him. One was above the toilet and pictured him in a gold metallic harness and thong with golden bracelets and armbands, crowned with a gold diadem and sitting on an ivory throne. The other one was on the far wall of of the cage. In this one, Lupercus was standing in a green field, holding his fully erect cock and looking with commanding aggression at the camera. Below the photograph was a rubber nozzle in the now all-too-familiar shape of the Master's cock, though there was an opening at the tip that was slightly larger than was realistic to life. Two narrow cushioned strips were on the floor, one in front of the nozzle and another in front of the toilet. A dim fluorescent light shined always, obscuring the difference between night and day. The burns on his back had healed, but he was exhausted. Not a day had gone by when he had not been brutalized. But what was a day in here? He was unable to tell the difference between night and day or the passage of time. It was much like when Roki had him trapped in his rubber prison, but this time he was not left alone. There were others in his little world now. They totally controlled his life. He sniffed and looked down at the slave brand, bearing his Master's mark on his chest, the confirmation of his place. He knew there was one just like it on his right asscheek.

This was ridiculous! He was the Master! He was in charge. His name was Mason! He was so much better than everyone! That's what he had always thought. That's how the mind of a narcissist worked after all. But what happens when a narcissist is faced with the opposite of his delusion, expressed in pure and undeniable physical form?

He kept telling himself he was not a slave. He had not done wrong and he did not deserve this! It was his money that paid for everything. He had a right to it all. Nobody would have ever had anything if not for him. He would get out of here soon and have them all thrown in prison. Nobody treated him this way. Nobody treated HIM this way!

Three loud buzzing noises came across the speaker, jolting him up from his cot. They always announced something was about to happen, usually horrible.

"Slave C!," shouted the voice over the speaker in the room. The volume seemed to be turned up deliberately loud.

Slave C's ears twitched and his body jolted ever so slightly, but he did not stand. He was determined to ignore the barking loudspeaker at least this once. Just this once, he would stand up to them. He would show them that he was not conquered. He was not a slave, but a person named Mason.

Mason sat there in his small cot, growling somewhat but otherwise looking ahead to his thumbs, twiddling them and ignoring the speaker.

"Slave C!! Stand up!," shrieked the voice once more.

Mason just shook his head silently. Slave C? Who was that? He didn't know anyone called Slave C. Certainly not in here.

The sound of boots was heard outside the cell door. The sound of several locks being released reached his ears. The doors were opening. So fucking what!? Let them come. He wasn't going to submit to them this time. Not this time!

The door opened and two figures entered. One was large, obviously a wolf. The other one was small and looked somewhat like an otter. They wore leather pants, heavy leather steel-toed boots, and leather jackets and gloves. Their heads were covered by leather hoods, the eyes covered by two black opaque lenses obscuring their eyes and giving off a menacing sheen in the dull fluorescent light. The large wolf had a patch with the letter "A" on the shoulder of his jacket. The otter had a patch with the letter "B". The outfit of the otter bore red highlights and that of the wolf, dark blue ones. Both of them also wore the same slave collar that Slave C wore. They both wore belts with electric batons. These were slaves, but ones trained and conditioned to serve as guards in this case for Slave C.

The large lupine guard grabbed Slave C and pulled him up from his bunk.

Slave C attempted to struggle, but found himself hit in the stomach by the electric baton of the otter, Slave B.

Slave C fell to the ground and saw the exit. He tried to crawl to it, to continue to resist. It was impossible. The kicks came now, those steel-toed boots hitting him in different places. Sometimes the groin, sometimes the neck, the head, the ribs. All the while the batons of both guards landed on him, the blows landing like hammers, also delivering painful shocks.

Slave C finally wept, relenting in pain. He surrendered. They would not stop. He begged them to stop but they did not. Eventually he just curled up into a ball and took more of it. Why wouldn't they stop!?

He didn't know how long they kept it up. All he knew was that eventually they got tired of it and pulled him up and just threw him back to his cot again and left.

The voice on the speakers taunted him, berating him for disobedience. It wasn't simply that he disobeyed, the voice told him he was too stupid to have obeyed. And that as a stupid slave he deserved his beatings. He was worthless, trash.

From that moment on the slightest misbehavior was often enough for the three shrill alarms to sound and bring forth the mocking, hateful voice on the speakers. Ordering him to do this or that, berating him, insulting him. The slightest deviation from the voice's orders was enough to justify sending the guards back in to give him a proper beatdown.

The guards themselves were silent during these torments, but the routine was generally the same. They'd throw him down and proceed to beat and torture him. Sometimes one of the guards would hold him up while the other one beat the soles of his feet repeatedly with the electric baton. All the while the voice on the speakers would berate and insult him, calling him stupid, incompetent, unworthy, a pile of shit. The ordeal was always followed by some bland white-suited doctor coming in, taking measurements of his broken body, dressing and cleaning any wounds, and finally injecting him with some drug that made him feel woozy and pass out. He always felt sick after waking up from that.

Once he groaned, holding his stomach. There was pain... pain from the batons of the guards or their boots? No, this was something different... something... hunger! He hadn't eaten at all in the past ... few days? He'd lost track. There was no time in here, just the boring and tiresome lull between beatings and humiliations.

The three alarms sounded once more, insulting him again. Then the voice came over the speakers.

"You worthless and lazy good for nothing piece of shit!"

Slave C just lowered his head and ears submissively. He learned that challenging or arguing with the voice just brought the guards in for a beating. Inwardly he chafed and growled, but outwardly he learned the kind of submissive expression that the voice desired. The cell probably had cameras in it too, because an inappropriate facial expression, even a slight twitch or loss of control had been enough to bring the guards in for a severe beating in the past.

"Fucking turd!," the voice continued. "Such a waste. Too stupid to even eat! Why won't you eat your damn food you fucking moron!?"

What food!?

Mason dare not say it. He dare not let the words exit his lips or even come from his through into his mouth, lest the slightest shift of his lips be an occasion for torment.

"Yeah yeah... you don't have any food in your cell huh... you're the slave of Master Lupercus now.. your GOD! Do you think he's not going to feed you? ... look for him. Seek him!"

Mason looked around... oh God! The nozzle!

Underneath the very flattering portrait of Lupercus, showing off every glorious muscle in his nude body, stroking his own man-sword, was a the rubber nozzle created in the exact likeness, shape, and size, of Lupercus' dick. The hole in it was a bit larger than real life though.

Oh fuck! ... Slave C suddenly realized what he was expected of him. The only source of nourishment he had available to him. Would he? Could he? ... He had to if he wanted to eat, if he didn't want to starve.

He slowly and carefully got onto the floor, looking around nervously as if he expected a boot or a baton to come at him from nowhere. He moved slowly, not wanting to anger the voice, in the direction of that rubber cock sticking out from the wall.

"Faster, slut!," shouted the voice.

The border collie yipped a bit and moved forward, finally reaching the dildo-nozzle and sucking, trying not to look up at the photo of Lupercus as he worked, opening and pushing his mouth down over that rubber dick.

He winced, whimpering as he did, remembering the brutal rape he had endured as soon as he came here in which he was forced to suck Lupercus' cock similarly to this. He sunk his lips down over it, bobbing and slurping, licking at it and hoping that it would deliver food, as it was apparantly designed to do ... what twisted yet brilliant mind came up with such a concept as this?

"Slave C!" yelled the voice on the speaker. "You are not permitted to feed! Back off!"

Slave C quickly backed up in fear, shivering at the thought that those doors would open and the guards would be in to pay him another visit.

He looked up at the picture of Lupercus above the rubber cock and shivered, waiting further instructions and orders.

"In order to eat, you must pray."

"Pr... pray?," asked Slave C meekly.

"You have not been given permission to speak!," shouted the voice angrily. Soon a powerful shock came to the slave's collar and struck him, sending him to the cold metal floor, groaning and whimpering in pain. Apparently these old collars from the Servicorps training camp still worked much as they were designed to.

"Get up you worthless trash!," demanded the voice as Slave C scurried quickly up to his knees, keeping them on the pad in front of the nozzle.

"Yes pray.. to your God. It won't give you any food and you'll be punished for sucking it unless you've prayed enough that your God has heard you and given you permission to feed."

Slave C looked up at that picture of Lupercus. It felt as if it was looking at him, as if it was talking to him and the voice came from it, instructing and interacting with him. He didn't respond. He wouldn't risk another shock.

"Oh we know all about you Slave C. We know you were raised religious but are now an atheist, but you still believed in something... something that gave you direction, a code by which to live your life. Maybe you should have listened to it... but now you get to finally meet your God -- to taste his flesh and consume his essence. You should feel grateful that he has so blessed a slug like you and not left you where he found you! Where you should have stayed for all eternity!"

Slave C looked up again at the picture of Lupercus as the voice droned on and on.

"Pray slave! You are commanded to pray!"

Slave C yelped for a moment, holding his stomach and crying and looking down, before looking up to the picture, then holding his paws up, clasped together. This certainly brought back memories. He hadn't done this since he was a pup.

"P... please, Sir!" he said.

A shock!!

Slave C yelped and fell over, grasping at his collar and gagging until pulling himself up to the tune of a couple crude and profane insults from the voice over the speakers.

"Not Sir, you pathetic wiggling shit-worm! God. He is your GOD! Say it!!"

"God," said Slave C, looking up at the picture of Lupercus as he begged, tears dribbling from his eyes. "Please give me food.. please."

"You've got to do better than that, dickbreath!," shouted the voice over the speakers again.

"Please my God," said Slave C, looking up at that picture and pleading. "Let me have one taste of your dick my God. I will do my best to pleasure you the way you like it. I'm so sorry for being a pathetic worthless bitch that can't even suck dick. I promise I will serve you well. I will be a good slave. Please my God, I pray for food. I pray to be able to live."

"Very good," said the voice. "Your prayer has been heard and you are now permitted to feed. Place your lips on the member of your God and pleasure him."

Slave C did as he was instructed, worshiping that rubber pole well with his mouth, practicing on it, rubbing his tongue over it and slurping on it for several minutes, blushing with extreme shame.

Spurt! Spurt!

Eventually the dick-shaped nozzle jutted a sticky and somewhat sweet substance into Slave C's mouth, which he swallowed down eagerly. He didn't know what it was, but he knew that he was damn hungry. He pulled off slowly and looked up at the picture.

A mild shock came to his collar.

"Thank your God, slave!," shouted the voice.

Slave C scowled, lowering his head and resisting, shaking it.

His collar was shocked once more, prompting him.

"Thank your GOD!!," came the insistent voice over the speakers once more.

Slave C sniffed and cried for a second, to be hit with another shock for hesitation.

"Ack!," yelped Slave C as he grabbed at his neck. The slave then began to babble incoherently, trying to say something, anything to please the voice and make it leave him alone.

"Thank you God for this daily bread and for the liberty for which it stands. Yea though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, so help me God, Amen."

The border collie collapsed, weeping on the hard floor, holding his chest in despair. He had been driven over the edge and was breaking down. He could hear the doors opening. The guards were coming! He yowled with horror. He couldn't take another beating. He crawled fearfully into the corner of the cell and curled up, screaming like a caged and doomed animal. He looked to the cold, unforgiving metallic ceiling of his cell and cried, screaming in horror even before the first blows landed.

The two black leather uniformed and hooded guards, wolf and otter, proceeded to deliver another furious kicking and beating to Slave C.

The voice over the loudspeaker shrieked and berated Slave C constantly as he received his beating. "You'd better do a better job next time you stupid ingrate! When your Master and God give you your food, it means he finds you worthy of keeping. You need to thank him as your God, by name!"

"Please!," cried out Slave C as the blows came and the beating continued. "I'll do anything. Just make them stop! Make them stop!"

"Beg for it!," said the voice. "Beg your God for mercy."

"Please Lord. My God Lupercus. I will worship your feet. Spare me more pain. I will serve you for my whole life I am your property I exist to serve you!"

A high pitched buzzing noise came over the speaker, a signal. The guards ceased their assault and left the cell as quickly as the came in, closing and looking the door once more, leaving Slave C to ponder his bruises.

"Very good Slave C. You have taken the first critical step on your journey," said the voice.

Mason whimpered and shuddered, nodding a bit, sighing in relief. It was the first time this voice had said something mildly kind to him since he had arrived in this horrible cell.

---

A few hours had passed since his feeding. As he did, Slave C felt another sensation coming on. He really had to go! That was it His bladder was full and there was nowhere to go. Then he remembered the toilet. There was just one problem he saw .... no privacy! He knew he was being watched at all times and anyone on the outside would be able to see him take a piss.

He approached the toilet cautiously, peering down at it, only to whimper and then twist his face into a pained expression, jumping about in need as he felt himself unsatisfied.

There was another problem. The toilet bowl was covered by a large metal plate under the seat. Desperately, Slave C felt around the toilet for a lever. There was none. Nothing except the flusher, which he pulled in a desperate attempt to do anything to get the toilet opened. He heard the toilet flush underneath the metal plate. At least that worked.

He sniffed and looked around uncomfortably. If this went on much longer he'd have to go on the floor. There was no way he could hold this in forever. Then his eyes rested upon the door and he thought better of it. Something in his gut told him that if he polluted the floor of his cell the guards would be in again to deliver him one of their swift beat downs.

Slave C looked to the ceiling with a pathetic and desperate whimper. He dared not speak, but he could hold himself in no longer. He jumped around, gripping at his crotch anxiously and hoping for an answer. Several minute passed before any response came. It was as if they were watching him, amusing themselves. The sick fucks!

"Slave C!," shouted the voice loudly.

Slave C lowered his head with an ashamed look on his face as he continued to jump, gripping at himself painfully and whimpering.

"If you soil your cage you will be punished. Do you understand!?," shouted the voice.

Slave C nodded and jumped more desperately, an expression of utter torment and need on his face.

"In order to access the toilet, you must pray to your God for relief," said the voice.

Slave C could contain himself no longer. He openly whimpered and sobbed at the concept, tears rolling from his face now as he looked down, crying. Yet again! This was insane! He was being made dependent on Lupercus, as his God, for everything. It was genius really. Slave C took a deep breath and calmed himself. He tried to think through his situation, but his physical pains blocked his thoughts. Everything in him was telling him he must piss, and piss now! But the guards... he couldn't stand another beating. He would do anything to avoid the pain.

Slave C blinked for a moment. He noticed another one of the pads on the floor in front of the toilet, just like by the dildo-nozzle that he was fed out of. He was supposed to kneel and pray to the toilet!? ... No. There was a glorious portrait of Lupercus, deified and enthroned, above the toilet. The cruel wolf sat on a massive ivory throne in a marbled hall, a golden harness and thong adorning his body along with jeweled gold bracelets on his arms and wrists and a golden diadem on his head.

Slave C knew what was expected of him. He knelt, looked up at the picture and prayed fervently, struggling not to piss himself right there.

"My Lord and God," began Slave C. "Please allow your slave release. Your slave needs to go so badly. Slave's no good with a busted bladder. Please open your toilet Master. Allow your servant and bitch his relief. Your slave lives to serve you and will for the rest of his life. Please... let me use the toilet, my Lord."

A slow grating sound was heard as the metal plate over the toilet bowl slid back.

Slave C smiled and jumped up happily. Indeed! The toilet had been revealed and was available for his use. He stood over it, reaching down to take hold of his dick and aim it down into the bowl... Oh fuck! That's right. He was in his cold unforgiving chastity cage and his dick didn't quite reach to the drain at the end of it. He grunted, attempting to pull it back and piss into the toilet, only sending a couple stray shots this way and that.

Slave C yelped and sniffled, holding himself back as he looked around, hoping this wasn't used as an occasion for the guards to come in. Mercifully the door to his cell remained shut. The border collie desperately held his overly full bladder back with an expression of pure pain as he swiveled himself around and sat on the toilet seat, panting in relief as he loosed his bladder again, emptying it directly down, shivering and whimpering in both relief and pain. So humiliating was being caged. He was forced to piss like this ... like a girl.

He grunted and thought for a moment as he emptied himself. They were using this! They were trying to control his mind by controlling his body and keep him in desperation. It was genius really. Yes, he was forced to recognize that. But he would resist. He would hold out as much as possible, feigning cooperation. His mind was his own, of course it was!"

"Slave!," shouted the voice as soon as the sounds of piss trickling into the bowl ceased. "What do you say to your God for letting you piss?"

"Thank you Lord," said Slave C, his ears flattened to his head as he looked sheepishly up at the ceiling. "Thank you for letting your slave have relief. Your slave is eternally grateful."

He sighed for a moment, walling off a section in his mind. He was still himself. He was still Mason, a person! And he would get out of here and take this wolf "god" down! ... yes. There was still hope, wasn't there? ... He had to believe it... but it was so hard when he was forced to acknowledge his slavery and helplessness, physically and psychologically tormented. Still... the walls went up around that, the last bastion of freedom in his mind, that final fortress that he would cling to so desperately, for its fall would mark his descent into total slavery.

---

Several days had passed, at least as far as Slave C could tell. He had slept several times, at least, but that was no guarantee of what time it was for it was really impossible to tell night from day in this place. He spent most of his time sitting around with nothing to do but ponder his surroundings and his fate. He used this time to meditate on his situation, to build up the walls to his mental fortress: his rational mind. It was the only thing he had left.

Still, there were those times when hunger and other needs revolted against him and forced him to beg, to pray to his God. He tried a hunger strike but gave in quickly. He had heard about prisoners going on hunger strikes, refusing to eat. He was unable to. Did that mean he was weak. Did that mean they were right about him? That he really could be a slave and that it was his true position? Nonsense! He was just doing what he needed to in order to survive. He was lying to them! He was the one praying to them! Well ... he could continue to tell himself that at least, but when he was feeling the pangs of hunger or struggling in the throes of agony for access to the toilet, he really meant what he said when he prayed and begged like a pathetic bitch to get what he needed.

He had managed to avoid most of his beatings from his past several sleep cycles, except for one. It had come when he attempted to protest his requirement to "pray" by soiling his cell. Not only had the guards delivered him an especially brutal flogging, but they required him to clean it up himself in a most degrading and humiliating manner. Slave C almost retched as he thought back on it. He would certainly not be repeating that infraction again.

The door was opening! Slave C ran to his spot in the corner of his cage, curling up fearfully as he waited for the guards to come in and deliver a beating. Why now!? What had he done. He'd been good. He'd been left alone for the past couple days.

Slave C was mystified and puzzled. The guards came in, each carrying the side of a small wooden table and then rolling in a comfortable leather office chair.

Another fur then entered, carrying a stack of briefcase. The fur was small, but dressed snappy in a nice business suit with a red tie and glasses. A ferret by the looks of him. He took his seat calmly with a smile and looked to Slave C as the guards came to him and forcibly grabbed him by his shoulders and dragged him over in front of the ferret.

"Good day, Mason is it? I have been looking forward to meeting you for quite some time, said the ferret with a smile, setting his briefcase on the table and opening it up.

Slave C stood there silently, shivering as the two stone-like guards held him up by the armpits in their relentless gloved grips. The slave was mystified, shocked. It was the first time he had heard his real name outside of his own mind in what seemed like ages. He wanted to speak. The words came into his mouth but then died. The guards were right here. He'd be beaten for sure!

"Speak!," shouted the voice over the speaker, but the suited ferret just sat there calmly and looked ahead as if he had heard nothing at all. Indeed, he gave every impression of sitting at his desk in a cool, comfortable office.

"Y.. yes... Who are you? Are ... Are you my lawyer?," asked Slave C, looking over the ferret hopefully.

The ferret chuckled a bit at the question then smiled widely, looking at Slave C with that gentle smiling expression of toleration one uses with a small child who has just asked why the sky was blue. "Oh, oh no, hardly, but I am here to help you," said the ferret reassuringly as he reached for the first file, looking through it and then looking up at the slave curiously.

"Then who are you?," asked Slave C, a hint of desperation in his voice.

"You may call me Mr. Barron," said the ferret. "But I must ask you," he said, an expression of the greatest seriousness growing on his face. "Why do you think you are here?"

Slave C thought back, attempting to ponder what happened to him and what brought him here. One face filled his mind. The last face he saw before he was sealed in his rubber prison only to be brought out by Lupercus then treated like a slave and put in this place. It was the face of Roki, his lover.

It was Roki! The strange amphibious creature, neither quite male nor female. She had done this to him! Oh the betrayal! He had what he had always wanted, someone who loved him, who appreciated him and all he could give. He remembered the old days, how Roki had bound him tightly in rubber and suspended him in a sling from the ceiling. The bizarre and alluring being would rock him back and forth gently like a mother, endlessly flattering him and telling him how good he was, how smart he was, how talented and skilled he was, complimenting all the wonderful things he had done. Could it have all really been lies? Could she have been an illusion? ... no, she would walk in here any moment to save him. This was her lawyer! He was here to save him!

"Roki!," shouted out Slave C. "Roki left me here! Please take me back to her, please."

Mr. Barron raised one of his eyebrows curiously and sighed, nodding to one of the guards. Guard A pressed a button on a curious device of his belt, delivering a shock to Slave C's collar.

"That is not the answer to my question," said Barron calmly. "I asked how you why you are here."

"I ... I was abducted... I... Aagh!," a shock cut off Slave C, halting his voice.

The ferret shook his head once more, smiling pleasantly.

"No, Mason ... you are here because you are sick. And we wish to cure you," he said with a smile, adjusting his glasses on his nose.

"Sick? ... wh... what do you mean sick? I feel fine, except... ugh..." Slave C held his stomach. In truth, he did not feel find, having been subjected to such torments and tortures that were abnormal even for most legal slaves.

"Yes," said Barron matter-of-factly. "You are under the delusion that you owe loyalty to none but yourself. You believe that you are the greatest of all, that all that has been done is your accomplishment. Well... I'm here to help correct that assumption in you, Mason. You will learn that you owe everything to your God and Savior, Lupercus."

"Bullshit!," said Slave C, summoning up a bit of defiance, answered with a rough slap across the face by the wolf guard.

"And now the truth comes out, of course... we knew it all along," said Barron with a smile and a twitch of his tail as he leaned forward on the table, now glaring at Slave C with an evil and angry expression. "You are a liar! You sit in here and beg and plead and pray to your God, but inside... inside your head you are in rebellion against your Lord! ... do you know what he does to liars, Mason? To cheaters and backstabbers like yourself!?"

"How am I the sick one!?," cried Slave C pitifully, showing his fangs and growling at the arrogant little ferret setting at the table. "When You! You were the ones who did this to me! I'm in here because you people put me here!" He struggled and attempted to lunge across the table at Barron, growling and the guards had to hold him back.

The ferret sighed and shook his head, looking down with resignation and sadness. "I had hoped this would not be necessary. I had hoped that you would repent before you went to meet your God. If you had repented you would receive his holy gift of forgiveness. This was to be your final test before the end, and after making such glorious progress... you've failed.... Now!," said Barron, holding a book he had taken from his case. "Prepare to meet your Lord!"

Slave C fell unconscious as one of the guards' batons fell on his head.

---

A bright light shone in Slave C's face. He squinted and tried to turn away from it but his head was bound. He closed his eyes but it was so bright it shone even through his eyelids. He was laying on some kind of hard table, his paws and feet bound to it in a spread position by leather straps. He thought he felt something, wires, pads on various parts of his body. Two on each of his temples. Two on each of his testicles. Two more on each of his feet and another wired up to his chastity cage.

A hand came to rest on his shoulder. He tried to look up, but he could not. It patted him gently.

"There there, my slave," said a familiar voice reassuringly as the hand patted his shoulder. "You are safe now, in the sanctuary of your God."

"L... Lupercus?... Is that you?"

A severe, mind-numbing shock came to Slave C's temples, shattering his senses and making even he image of the bright light shudder in his vision.

"You are not worthy to speak my personal name so casually!," said the voice. "You will pray a prayer of repentance within the next fifteen seconds if you do not want to experience that again."

"AAAgh! ... AAA! ... I ... I ask you Lord, please spare me pain."

"And why should I?," asked Lupercus, looming over the border collie now and blocking his vision of the bright light. It had the effect of bathing him in light, encircling his head with a bright halo.

"A rebellious servant like yourself deserves pain. It reminds you of who you are. It brings you back to who you are meant to be," said Lupercus.

"I'm meant to be... me," said Slave C, only to receive another massive shock, this time directed at his genitals. He shook and squirmed on the table, squealing pathetically as the pain sunk into him.

"There now my boy," said Lupercus, rubbing Slave C's head gently. "It shall pass... but you will do well to remember that I have the power to inflict as much pain on you as I wish at any time I choose. Do you understand?"

Slave C gulped and nodded as much as he could within his head restraints.

"Very good," said Lupercus. "Pain is the fire that will purge you of your sickness and corruption so that you may become a pure servant and vessel of my will."

Slave C grunted, squirming a bit in his restraints. "But this isn't right... I ... I'm not a slave! I'm a successful businessman. I have rights!"

Lupercus looked down at him sadly, flicking the switch again and bringing on all of the electrodes at once, delivering a symphony of pain to his subject and reducing Slave C to a quivering and screaming mass of twitching flesh for a few moments. In all this, Lupercus showed no emotion, no sympathy at all for the pain of his victim.

"You are a slave," said Lupercus, "because I, your God, have willed you to be so. I have done this for your own good in order to save you from yourself.

"You're wrong," said Slave C, trying to shake his head. "You may be able to torture me, to beat me, to tell me when I can and cannot eat, when I can and cannot piss or whatever else. You may attach puppet strings to me and dance me around but that will never make you a god!"

This was followed up by another series of shocks, this time in a repeating pattern as Lupercus sighed, shaking his head sadly. "I see we have a lot of work to do," he said, pausing a moment to reflect before continuing. "Tell me slave, what is a god anyway?"

"I... I don't believe in God," said the slave, only to be hit with another set of shocks.

"You're lying," said Lupercus plainly. "I know everything about you. I know what a good little boy you used to be going to church with your mommy and singing in the boy's choir. Oh what an angelic voice you had." Lupercus grabbed at the slave's shoulder and squeezed it strongly. "But I know you left all that to become what you are now. You traded your god for your greed and your lust... but I'm here to give you your purpose back. Now you have a real God who lives and breathes with you. You can pray to me and I will reward you when you are good and punish you when you sin and step outside my will."

"But you can't be God," said Mason. "God is powerful... he can do anything. What he says, it happens."

"Tell me slave," asked Lupercus. "What is power in this world?"

"Money," said the slave confidently. "Money is power."

Another shock, causing the slave to scream and writhe again.

"Wrong," said Lupercus succinctly. "Power is the ability to inflict pain and humiliation in as much quantity as necessary, and whenever it is necessary. Without pain or the threat of pain, there is no power... oh come now slave, you know this to be true. The only reason money has power is because a government says it does, because their guns will back it up in the end, and because it can buy force.." Lupercus smiled and then stroked his slave's head, looking down at him over the light again. "I'm only simplifying the process, toy."

"You can't win," insisted the slave, trying to shake his head. "They'll stop you. You'll get caught in the end."

"No," said Lupercus confidently, smiling and shaking his head as if correcting a small child. "I am Lord on this island. I control who comes in. I control who goes out. I control what is up and what is down. Something exists or doesn't exist just because I say it does. And I say that you are my slave, and I am your God."

"But how?" asked the slave, mystified, but not aggressive. He wanted to avoid pain. He would do his best to avoid pain from now on.

There was the sound of a switch turning, the buzz of electricity, so faint that the slave had not even noticed it, halted as the incredibly bright sphere over the slave shut off. Another switch flicked. Now two red squares appeared suspended in the air above the slave's face.

"There you see two circles hovering over you,"

"What do you mean?," asked Slave C innocently. "They're squares.... AAAAAGH!!!!,"

Lupercus had shoved his hand down violently the controls of the electrodes, pushing it all the way on and holding it there for two seconds before turning it off.

"I said," said Lupercus, pausing for a frightening few seconds before continuing, "that you see two circles." Lupercus smiled and nodded a bit after another pause, then resuming once more. "Now," he said. "I will ask you what you see, slave. What do you see in front of you?"

"Two circles," said Slave C without any hesitation.

The pain! ... Lupercus had turned up the juice on the electrodes again.

Slave C screamed and wiggled in pain, crying now and twisting his face into the most agonizing of contortions. "Wh.. what am I supposed to say!? What do you want me to say if not two circles?"

"I expect you to tell the truth!," said Lupercus firmly. "You're lying again... do you really see two circles, or are you just saying that you do to please me?"

Slave C cried and sniffled. "I .. I don't understand."

Lupercus explained. "You don't always see what you think you do, slave... your mind can be wrong. That's why you're here, to be cured and saved from your old deluded self. Your sick mind tells you that two red squares are in front of you, but there are two circles because I say there are. It's not enough to just say that you see the circles. You must know it within yourself. You must really and truly see the circles."

"I... I don't know. I don't know how I can," cried the slave, sniffling.

"I know, slave," said Lupercus, "But this is just like before. You imagine its someone else's fault that you're here, maybe Alan's or Roki's, maybe even mine. But the truth is, boy, you brought yourself to this. You reduced yourself to what you are now by the choices you made, and now I'm here, to be your God and make you into the slave you were meant to be."

"P... please, make it stop. Sir, Master, please make it stop. What do I need to do to make it stop?" whimpered the slave.

"It will stop once your mind is clean... Can you do that for me? Clean your mind. Empty it of everything that distracts you and holds you back. Empty your mind of those thoughts of being your own self and being a person... you are a slave!"

Slave C sighed, relieved of pain for a moment and nodded slowly, taking deep breaths.

"That's it boy," said Lupercus. "Breathe deep. Relax.

A switch was flipped again and the table pivoted forward with a sickening motion. The two glowing red squares... circles? ... pivoted as well, as if they were held on some moving mechanical arms. Whether they were or not it was impossible to see as the room was otherwise dark but for those red lights.

Slave C squirmed and turned his head in panic. Something was placed behind his head. It was a glass case. Slowly it was pulled closed, shutting his head inside of a glass bowl with a hole in the top. A small hose was placed into the bowl and then Lupercus moved around to the front of Slave C and looked at him, looking into his eyes through that bowl.

"Concentrate on me slave," said Lupercus. "This is your final test. You are here because you failed my assistant Barron back in the cell, but you have one final trial now to prove yourself."

Water began to dribble into the bowl surrounding Slave C's head, filling up ever so slowly.

"Will you pass this trial by water, your baptism into a new life as my slave?," asked Lupercus, "or will you instead find yourself lost, drowned in a sea of your own delusion that you wove around yourself? This will be the moment that decides it all."

Slave C squirmed in fear, water filling his bowl and reaching near his chin as he looked beyond the glass at Lupercus, tilting his muzzle up as he attempted to prolong his access to air.

"It's no use struggling," said Lupercus. "You will drown unless you do what is required of you."

"Tell me!," said the slave. "Tell me what I need to do and I'll do it, just make it stop!," he cried, tears flowing from his face and mingling with the water dribbling over his head and collecting in the bottom of the bowl.

"It will reach your chin first, then travel up your muzzle as you hold it up," said Lupercus, moving close now and running his claw over the glass bowl and up it as he described.

"Then it will begin to cover your mouth... then your nose. At that point there's no more point in begging. You will try to hold your breath for a while... everyone does. But it won't last forever. You'll give in. Then water will enter your lungs." Lupercus moved his finger down from the bowl now, running it down the slave's neck and then over his lungs. "And you will choke and die. Now... it's not what I want, but if it's what you decide happens. Then its what you decide."

The slave squirmed, cringing and whimpering as the water traveled further and further up his bowl, threatening to envelop him. There was only so much time he had left. There was even only so much time left to beg before the water choked off his words.

"Alright I admit it. It's all my fault! Everything!" screamed Slave C, squirming on the table. "I turned on Alan, I betrayed Servicorps. I fell in love with a lie. I deserved everything I got. Please... let me live. You are my God. You are my Savior. Save me from my delusions.

"Circles or squares?," asked Lupercus calmly.

The slave shivered, looking through the murky glass, splattered with the threatening water, then back to the morphing red-lit figure of Lupercus... yes. They did look kind of like circles after all. The edges bent, twisted in his vision.

"I see.... two circles!," said Slave C.

The water stopped. He had passed his trial. His final fortress had crumbled.

---

Slave C knelt on a red cushion graciously provided for him by his God. Next to him were two other slaves. The wolf, Slave A, and the otter, Slave Be. All three slaves wore an electrically locking metal shock collar to discipline them when necessary. All three wore metal chastity cages which they knew they would never be released from. All three bore the brands of their own, their God, Lupercus.

Lupercus sat above them on his ivory throne, holding a golden scepter out. He wore the clothing of his godhood -- his pure golden harness, golden thong, and gold bracelets and diadem. Against his white fur it was truly a magnificent sight to be hold.

The God Lupercus held his scepter down, an ornate golden staff with the head of a wolf on it, for he had taught all his slaves of the superiority of wolves over other species, just as Xarious taught his minions of the superiority of dragons.

The scepter was pointed at Slave C. The border collie knew what he was to do, he reached up and touched it and then began to speak while the other two slaves simply remained kneeling, their heads down in a humble position.

"I am Slave C," said the slave. "I used to be called Mason in my former life, before I knew my God. I was a wretched person. I lied, I stole, I cheated, and I even killed. It didn't matter that I traded around in other people's lives, making my profits from their labors, labors I had nothing to do with. I thought nothing of it. And then I came to Bastana to join Xarius and work enslaving my fellow furs. After that, my pride led me to fund Servicorps for my own glory and nothing else. I took all the credit for it, even though it was built by others. I forsook my partner who I should have supported and clung to a hideous monster who was nothing but a lie. The monster rejected me because it was evil and because I was foolish enough to fall for its wiles. That was where I should have remained."

"But my Master and God took pity on me. He stretched out his loving paw and rescued me from the flood. He taught me my true place and calling in life: a servant, and object to be used by those far more worthy than myself. I am grateful to my God for providing me with guidance. And I shall forever serve him for all my days."