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33.

I sat helpless at the table. Once again I had to play spectator as my fate was in the hands of another. This time it was in the hands of Jake. He held the letter on which Hash had snuck a love note to me. If he read it to Dimitri, I had no idea how things would go.

Jake was a perpetual wildcard. I did everything I could to endear myself to the red fox, but he never fully opened to me apart from sharing how he ended up in prison. His life had been one shit storm after another and somehow I made it even worse. I listened to his quiet voice as he read the letter aloud like Dimitri ordered. I dared not look at him for fear Dimitri would pick up on my trepidation.

"I have to see Otto during lunch," Jake read.

My mind shifted gears. I knew we'd been pimped out during our lunch time, but I'd skimmed over any of the details. "No," I whined on Jake's behalf. Otto was a bastard who got off on making others hurt. I looked to Dimitri, "he's... he's an asshole. Please don't make Jake do this."

The tiger studied me, I knew instantly he'd picked up on something. I looked away, towards Jake. Instead of any of the reactions I could have expected, Jake looked pissed, on the verge of snarling. I had to look away from that too.

"Jake knows I don't care if he does it or not," Dimitri said. "Is Otto the wolf you sucked off the other day?"

"Yes, sir," I said, still wondering why Jake was suddenly angry.

Dimitri grunted. "You got a problem with Otto?" he asked Jake.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw Jake shake his head no.

Dimitri shrugged his broad shoulders and gave a wave for Jake to keep reading. The red fox did, his voice more grating than before. "Tront bought Ellie for the lunch hour, too," a nasty gloat in using the nickname Vince gave me.

This got more of a reaction from the big tiger. "What the fuck? I told him we had plans out on the Yard. How the fuck does he expect you to work out if you're dealing with a horse cock ripping up your insides?"

My ears flattened. Dimitri's mood had a way of affecting me that went beyond simple fear. I genuinely didn't want him unhappy. "It'll be ok, sir. I'll tell Tront I have plans, so he has to go easy on me."

Dimitri gave me a derisive snort, but I think he'd stepped back from the edge of a bad mood. Between his sulking and whatever I did to piss Jake off, the rest of my breakfast passed in silence.

***

I was still lost in my own thoughts as the klaxon sounded and we were herded back to our cells. Tront was big, and a guard. I wasn't sure what good my asking the stallion to go easy on me would do. But he was also nice - for a guard - and like most of the furs in here, inmate or guard, they didn't want to make an enemy out of someone like Dimitri. I guess I'd try honesty, and tell him Dimitri doesn't want me too tired out if things started to get out of hand.

My thoughts shifted again as I made my way down the walkway to Dimitri's cell. I noticed Herb hadn't left his. If you were wealthy enough, you could live off of commissary food and never have to visit the cafeteria, but Blake recruited the panda as a snitch and they both had a grudge with me. It wouldn't be long before he was back to making trouble. I shuddered at what the two of them working together could do to me.

I stood just inside the door to Dimitri's cell, waiting for him to tell me what to do. I watched him flop onto his bunk after turning on his television. The cell door clanked shut and it looked like I was free to entertain myself.

I took a few sheets of legal papers out of my box and started to sketch. It was an escape, much the same as Dimitri tuning out the world with inane daytime television. I let my mind wander, my hand reproducing things I'd seen. A tray of scrambled eggs, a checker piece, my tattered box across from me. Eventually I was reproducing some of the tattoos the inmates sported. The swirling pattern in Kalvin's ears, modified from solid lines to coiled rope and barbed wire to better suit the hare's hobbies. Max, one of Piter's thugs, had a webwork of lines, I drew them as chains, he didn't deserve the wet looking inking he had. He should have something more representative of how enslaved to his baser instincts he was.

I was at it for well over an hour, only stopping when a tingling told me I'd lost feeling in my legs. I stretched them out, rubbing my numb calf, frowning at the pins and needles of blood flowing again.

"Pet."

My pen dropped and my full focus was on the muscled tiger, lazing on his bunk. "Yes, sir?"

He had his headphones draped around his neck, the definition of carefree boredom. "Did you want to use the table?"

I blinked away my incomprehension. Table, like ninety percent of Dimitri's cell, had always been off limits to me. "C-Can I?"

"Yes."

I picked up my things and dropped them on the small surface. Then I did the first thing that came to mind, I leaned over the reclined tiger and gave him a hug, squeezing as hard as I could just so he'd feel it.

The cell's table was a small square of concrete that jutted from the wall, right under the shelf that held Dimitri's TV. There was a small plastic stool under it, not comfortable at all, but so much better than hunching over on the floor.

I smiled, my tail wagged, noticing Dimitri was watching me instead of the TV above my head. I liked it when furs watched me work. It was part of the thrill I got when spray painting my masterpieces onto the sides of an overpass or onto a downtown billboard back when I was free.

After a time, Dimitri sat up, propping a foot on the edge of the table to get my attention. "Let me see some of your drawings."

It wasn't a request and I might have been in the middle of one, but I wasn't bothered. My pride actually swelled at Dimitri taking an interest in what I was doing. I passed him the papers. Oddly enough, his opinion would mean more to me than all the mentions I'd managed to scrape in a few underground art blogs that seemed so important to me at the time.

"Hmm," he rumbled. "These are pretty good."

"Really?"

"Really." He held up a sketch of a vulpine skull, stripes drawn over it like camouflage. "Those are my stripes, aren't they?"

The question took me off guard. My eyes flicked between the sketch and the fur pattern on his forearm. "Y-Yeah. I guess it is, sir."

He smiled softly. "You know how to give a tattoo?"

I shook my head. "No. I never tried. I don't even have one."

He chuckled. "I know. Half the furs in here would know if you had one."

Not funny. But I smiled just so he wouldn't think I was rude. "Have you ever wanted a tattoo?" I knew he obviously didn't have any, and the way he struts around the showers, I'm sure there were a lot of furs that would have noticed if he had one too.

"No," he motioned down the length of his powerful frame. "Tiger. God gave me a set of badass tats when I was born."

I laughed. If you didn't know us, you could almost think we were just two friends, two equals, hanging out and having fun. I liked what Dimitri was becoming.

***

I caught Jake on our way to lunch, tapping his arm and getting him to fall behind Dimitri enough for us to talk. He still looked angry and I didn't know why. It started when I tried to get him out of having to service Otto.

"Hey, Jake, did I do something wrong?"

His eyes narrowed. "I'm not a fucking pussy," he hissed. "I don't need you to fuckin' say what I can and can't handle."

"I'm sorry," survival instincts kicked in, apologize first, decide if you mean it later when you're safely away from getting your ass kicked. "I just wanted you not to have to go through wha-"

"I got rid of Hash's love note. Dimitri won't find out. Whatever debt I owed you, I paid. Whatever you think you owe, forget about it. Just stay out of my business. You made me look weak."

He left me standing stunned. I was just trying to be nice. What the hell? I would have still been standing there trying to figure out what sort of prison protocol forbid us low ranking inmates from looking out for each other if I wasn't shoved forward by the tide of hungry furs at my back.

I made it through most of the food line without causing trouble. I was too preoccupied to worry about preservatives in my applesauce. A crumbly square of indistinct pastry was scooped onto my tray when I heard a familiar sharp whistle. I tensed, wishing for the thousandth time that I could turn invisible.

Otto and four other wolves were loitering at the food line's exit. I stepped closer to Dimitri, knowing we'd have to walk by them. I looked at Jake. He had that distant look in his glazed eyes, no sign of any resistance to his fate.

Otto approached, backed up by his comrades. "See!" he shouted, pointing at Jake. "I told you fags I could afford a red fox."

Was the asshole that insecure that he couldn't let it go when one of his friends laughed at him for renting me, with my consistently underappreciated gray fur, instead of a fox with a vibrant red coat? If I wasn't trying to stay behind Dimitri, out of Otto's sight, I would have given the wolf one of my speeches about the inherent aesthetic pleasure that could be found in all furs, and how he was shallow to give into peer pressure so readily. Then again, maybe I wouldn't have. He is an asshole after all.

Otto whistled again, "Over here, bitch."

Jake started walking, his head bowed, eyes locked on the tray of food he probably wouldn't get to enjoy. I bit down on my lip, Dimitri was letting him go. Every part of me screamed to tell the tiger that Otto didn't deserve Jake, that this was wrong. But what good would it do? Jake would just get mad at me, Dimitri would probably end up in a fight, and all that would accomplish nothing because there was an endless number of furs just as bad or worse than Otto, all looking to take advantage of anyone weaker.

I tasted copper. Damn it, I bit too hard. While I probed at the stinging wound with my tongue, Otto finally noticed me.

"Ellie," he sounded closer but I stayed motionless, pretending I was as transfixed by my lunch as Jake had seemed. The cruel lilt in his voice chilled me. "You can come sit with us again. I can't let you suck my dick this time, no matter how much you wanna, but if you're real good, maybe I'll let you lick my fingers when I'm done with my main course."

I didn't need to look up at him to know he was leering at Jake. All I could do was stare at my lunch and wonder why Dimitri was still standing there. Couldn't we go sit down, far away from Otto?

"Close enough, dog," Dimitri's deep voice growled. "You paid for Jake. If you even want to talk to Regal, it's going to cost you."

"Be cool," Otto said. "We were just going to have some fun. Let your other bitch come sit with us."

"Why don't you come join us?" Dimitri suggested. The menace was palpable.

Otto attempted to laugh it off and turned to leave. I didn't understand. First Dimitri hangs around to watch them take Jake, instead of his customary disinterest, and then he lets Otto walk without so much as a threat.

When the big tiger did make for our table he glanced over his shoulder at me, noting my perplexity. "I had to see what you're going to be working towards."

"What?"

"Give it a month," he glanced at me again, "maybe two. And you'll be ready to kick his ass."

We reached the table, my mind still racing to catch the thread I missed. Leaning in, "What do you mean, sir?"

He let out a long breath. "Regal, I'm not going to make you tell what went on, but Otto did something to you. No one fucks with my pet and gets away with it," he said affectionately. It would have been touching if he wasn't telling me I was going to have to get into a fight.

I wasn't going to do it. I couldn't, and I don't mean I wasn't physically capable of beating up a wolf. The way Dimitri was teaching me how to fight dirty, I was sure I'd have a fair chance by the time he was done. No, I just didn't want to. All Otto did was humiliate me. I refused to give him the satisfaction of getting in my head... or the potential to do it again.

Time ticked by and I was starting to wonder where Tront was. I even had enough time to cram down my sandwich. It was a rare chance to appreciate something. Dimitri nodded over my head and I spun to see who it was.

***

Tront. As he escorted me through the prison's maze of halls he explained his tardiness. "That tiger seemed pissed when I took you before you finished eating last time. You did get to finish this time, right?"

"Yes, sir. I'm sure Dimitri appreciates your being thoughtful."

"Yeah, well as long as I don't have to watch my fuckin' back every time I'm in H-Block, that's good enough for me." He stopped me in front of one of the doors we passed, unlocking it and pushing me in before anyone else wandered down the hall.

It was another conference room, indistinguishable from the others I'd been in. The sound of his heavy utility belt hitting the floor got my attention. He looked at me. "Fuck, this is so wrong." Of course, that didn't slow him down as he lifted me onto the table, and began pulling my clothes off. "I haven't had a day off in nine days," he grumbled, his hands getting rougher as they tugged off my pants, leaving me naked on the cold tabletop.

"You should see what my schedule looks like."

He laughed. Standing between my spread legs, looking me over without a hint of the guilt he wanted me to know he felt. He jerked his head, tossing back a few loose strands of hair. My ears flattened in a show of submission. I knew how big he was, but I knew I could make it through. It gave me some measure of confidence. That measure of confidence blossomed when I saw the guard take two small packets of lube from his shirt pocket.

My tail wagged in time with the prize that he dangled in front of me. "Bet you thought I'd forget."

I nodded, too happy to speak.

"You want this?" he swung them in a wide arc, my head following.

"Yes, please," I whined. Tront let go, dropping them into my waiting hands. This would make my job so much easier and so much less painful.

Tront unbuttoned his crisp uniform shirt, displaying his broad chest and the hint of a six pack. Not as defined as some physiques I've seen, but I could tell Tront worked out. Slowly. I put my hand on him, waiting for him to tell me to stop, but instead, he encouraged me. "How do they feel?"

I moaned in response. They felt firm, like Dimitri's but Tront's fur was more bristly. I couldn't help but think it wouldn't make as good of a pillow as Dimitri's chest.

"My turn," his voice low. His hand slipped between my legs. I gasped but he didn't stop, grasping my dick, tugging lightly. He was only teasing me, and I whined plaintively as his hand moved lower, cupping my balls. He rolled them with his thumb, pressing down with only a fraction too much force, making me whimper as the air left my lungs.

"You like that?" he chuckled.

I shook my head. "No," I said emphatically. Even as I spoke, my body couldn't hide its reaction. There was something about his confidence, how he held all the power, that on a baser level, I did find exciting. But that in no way meant I wanted the stallion to squeeze my nuts.

Tront did not pick up on this subtle distinction, his fist tightened. Not a lot, not enough to even crumple a delicate paper crane, but from my shrill yip, you would have thought I was about to be gelded. "Sorry, sorry," he said with a laugh. "I won't do that again. Promise."

As soon as he let go, I clamped my legs shut. "Not funny."

He rubbed his hand over his hair. "Yeah. My ex never thought that was funny either."

"Gee, I wonder why he's an ex." My arms crossed.

"Don't be like that. What if I got you a soda, like last time, after we fuck?"

I considered for a moment. "Deal." I am such a whore. I splayed myself out on the table, trading my dignity for a simple luxury I used to take for granted.

"C'mon, Regal. I can't do this if you're just gonna pout."

I sat back up. "Really?"

"What, really?"

"You couldn't fuck me if I wasn't into it?"

Tront shrugged. "I'm sure as hell not going to rape anyone. I might be jaded about my job, but I'm not a bad fur."

All was forgiven. A wide smile cut across my muzzle. I knew there was a reason I liked that horse. "Ok... um, pull up that chair."

While he wheeled it over, I tore open both lube packets, spilling the slippery content onto my palm, thinking over what I was about to do. I wanted to prep myself. I'd had it done to me often enough, so I figured there couldn't be anything to it.

"Ready?" Tront asked, holding out his hand.

"Actually, I was wondering if I could try to loosen myself for you?"

He looked at me suspiciously. "You're not still-"

"No, sir. Not at all. I- It's just, I never tried it and maybe... you could watch and tell me what I do wrong?"

"You never touched yourself back there when you're jerkin' off?" he asked incredulously.

"No..." Not that I wanted to share any of that with him.

He grinned. "Who am I to turn down a pregame show?" He dropped roughly onto the chair, watching eagerly, like this was a strip club and not a federal prison.

I leaned forward, doubled over between my knees on the edge of that table. I won't lie, it felt weird to be running my slicked fingers through my crease, on full display to Tront, who was starting to unzip his pants. Weird, but not wrong. My biggest complaint, as my finger gently worked the chilly lube around my pucker, was that I would have preferred to do this in front of Dimitri, or Hash, or Tox. I just didn't feel as close to Tront as I did with them.

"Oh, fuck yeah!" Tront's self control was beginning to strain. I wasn't actually trying to tease him, it was my first time fingering myself. I didn't want to fuck up, so I took it slow, gently stretching my hole with extra care. "God, you look so fuckin' hot," Tront moaned.

I added more fingers. Feeling my velvety soft inside was a thrill enough to get me hard, even if I couldn't find that damn elusive gland that seemed wired to pleasure me in away that could almost make me consider intelligent design. I looked up, focusing on the massive rod, engorged to full attention, Tront idly stroked. That will be in me, I knew. It spurred me on, gritting my teeth against the burn as I stretched.

"Ok," I said with something less than confidence, "I'm ready for you."

"Come here," he patted his lap and beckoned with both hands, and like a feral pup, I slid off the table and took the step to him. I bent low, almost a bow, running my hands over his hard thighs. My nose nudged the veiny monolith and I let my tongue moisten it. "So fucking hot," he proclaimed while guiding me into straddling him.

I put my arms on his shoulders, knowing what to do the instant his hands pushed down on my waist. I lowered myself, willingly impaling myself, grunting but never clenching or fighting it. Like a good boy. And like a good boy, the friction of of his cock stroked along nerve endings that had me mewling. I was a puppy getting scratched in all the right places.

I sat there, feeling my body adjusting to Tront. The stallion had one arm wrapped around me, insuring I wouldn't fall backwards, the other hand traced a line softly from my stomach to my lips. Slowly at first, and with small movements, I began to ride him. His cock filled me but it wasn't enough to get me past dribbling my precum down his front. Part of me knew he wouldn't want me shooting my load onto his abs, but part of me hoped I would have gotten the chance. Was I doing this right? Maybe it had to do with me doing all the work while Tront just sat there, with a determined expression of bliss, while I move up and down like his dick was a pogostick. Too much work for me to focus on my own needs.

After a handful of minutes, Tront's moans took on a familiar urgency. His hand on my back pulled me into his chest, the other squeezing my side, stopping my rhythm. I swear I could feel the heat of his hot cum, painting me so deeply the next fur to fuck me would come out smelling like horse jizz.

Tront held tight, letting me tremble to coax out every last drop he had. "Fuck," he breathed onto the top of my head, "I hate being single."

Surprising myself that I had the energy to still speak, I told the hard chest, "I'd help you out there, but I'm kinda spoken for by at least two other lovers and a really good fuck buddy."

Tront laughed hard, jostling me. "Regal, that made my day. Lemme get you that soda I promised."

I grumbled at having to leave my warm perch, and I whimpered at the ticklish feeling of Tront's softening dick pulling out. He left me alone, uncuffed, with just a box of tissues to watch me clean up. I know the likelihood of me making an escape from this hell was remote and doomed to failure, but it still meant a lot that he trusted me like this.

That thought had me smiling as he returned with two cans of cola. "Cheers, Regal," he said as he tossed me one.

***

We chatted over our sodas. Well, Tront chatted, I mostly listened to him vent his frustrations. It was hard to empathize with how he lamented the lack of ethics, the level of corruption, and the long hours, when I was the one who had to live through it every day. He at least got to go home at night.

"That new guard," I spoke up, "Chad, he's not like some of the others."

Tront laughed sharply. "I know the wolf. He's new. Give it time. When the Pack starts throwing money at him, or the scalies get him hooked on shrooms... No one can resist the easy rides."

I shook my head refusing to be that cynical. "You're still good. You didn't let this place corrupt you."

Again he laughed. "You say that right after I fucked you."

"No fur is perfect, but that doesn't change that you're trying to do what's right."

Tront looked at his empty soda can thoughtfully. "You know, Regal, I'm glad we waited until after the sex before having this talk."

We shared a laugh at life's little absurdities. As he opened the conference room door to take me back to the cafeteria, he stopped me. His face twisted in indecision for a moment. "Don't tell anyone you don't have to, but Blake's got cellblock-H scheduled for a cell search this week, as soon as he's got enough furs on duty, and I don't want to see you get written up for anything."

Without further comment he left, having enough trust in me that I'd follow. And of course, I did.