The night was cold and Frankie pulled her jacket tighter around her thin frame against it. Her lip throbbed from the biting wind. Winter was just around the corner, and with it the inevitability of snow. She hated the snow. It reminded her of days long gone, huddled inside the connecting tube of some playground structure praying for death to come quick but continuing to cruelly draw breath after agonizing breath. The only thing keeping her warm was the thought of seeing her little sister, even momentarily at her window in the dead of night.

That hadn’t been a problem in quite a while, having spent most of her late teen’s with some sort of roof over her head. But the threat and fear was once again creeping its way into her mind, with what Tess had said.

She was gone, probably for good this time. This was serious. Frankie had pushed and pushed and pushed, waiting for the bends. Never expecting the break to be so sudden. So violent. For her and for Tess. Now she was gone. Alone again. Like after Tilly. Or Charlotte. Especially Charlotte.

*It was your fault too,* the thoughts rumbled. *You were the drunk one. You pissed the guy off and you wanted to fight. All. Your. Fault…*

A muted sob escaped her lips, stifled along with the tears. She knew it was in the past, but that didn’t make thinking about it hurt any less. Head down and eyes closed, she would have walked in front of the oncoming bus if the driver hadn’t laid on his horn, startling her and making her stumble backwards.

Rumbling to a stop, the hulking metal transport hissed as it settled down, doors opening to let out it’s cramped occupants; workers mainly, dead-eyed and looking forward to nothing more than the beer in their fridge and their favorite spot on the couch. Sheep, Frankie thought to herself.

The driver - a hippo - eyed her the same way one would look at an insect; mainly indifference, with undisguised disgust and contempt. She shrugged it off like she normally did, climbing aboard tapping her bus pass to the sensor and finding a seat in the sparsely occupied rear. She was used to being treated like dirt by most predator furs. Old biases die hard, and some furs would rather not see their hatred die out in the younger generations-proliferating it to their children and anyone else dumb enough to acutally lend an ear to such mindless, incoherent babble.

Pulling out her phone, she opened up her news feed and tried to distract herself with a random article, just as quickly closing it when she realized it was a review for some awful rom-com; guy meets girl, girl hates guy, guy keeps doing things girl hates until she changes herself for him and they end up happily ever after somehow. Vomit in cinema form. The other pieces weren’t any better, consisting of tabloids (You’ll never guess who SuperModel #7532 is dating! That’s right, Porn Star #9401!) depressing tragedies and mind-numbing political discourse. 

While she scrolled the bus stopped momentarily to load on more passengers, among them a group of obnoxiously loud teenage boys; a mouse, cat and wolf rating various girls who they probably attended school with on a scale of 1 to 10.

“...She’s a 5 on a good day, man.” the wolf finished as they moved toward the middle of the bus. Frankie tried her best to ignore their objectifications and silently stared at her phone. 9 actors who went through crazy transformations slid through her unseeing view.

“Come on dude, with that rack? She’s an easy 8.” The cat was insistent, also the only one of the group thinking to sit. The others stood around, taking up space needlessly and their raised arms holding the railings causing the reek of axe deodorant spray and body odor to waft chokingly in the enclosed space. Frankie cracked her window open as much as possible to air out her seat. She wanted to throw up from the smell, but downtown was still 15 minutes away and she knew she would be late if she got kicked off now. She settled for breathing through her mouth and continuing to ignore their annoying prattling. Unfortunately they seemed inclined to speak at a reasonable volume about as much as they were to take a shower.

“With those coke bottle glasses? And that annoying laugh? I guarantee you no guy but you would want to stick his dick in that,” laughed the mouse cruelly. “No amount of tit meat can remedy that kind of malfunction. Plus she’s probably a dyke, dude. She likes that hentai shit, has stickers of girls in bikinis and underwear all over her books. Carpet muncher for sure.”

“For sure,” echoed the wolf, smiling dumbly.

“That’s just cause she’s confused,” the cat asserted. “All these chicks who think they’re lezzies cause they can’t get guys just need to keep trying. Same for fags, too. Once they get their dick wet they never go back.”

Frankie wanted to burst out laughing but knew better. If she laughed they would notice her, then they wouldn’t leave her alone. She relented to listen to their ridiculous generalizations and subjugations of women ang body types and sex for the remainder of her trip, wishing she had a pair of headphones to drown them out. She couldn’t get out fast enough.
---

Downtown was a welcome breath of fresh air after the suffocating confinement of the bus. Frankie loved it here, although the memories of earlier today sapped some of the enjoyment out of it. The walls of neon signs lining almost every building gave the streets an ethereal, unnatural glow. Frankie always imagined this was how William Gibson envisioned the Sprawl to look after Tilly lended her Neuromancer to read. All it would take were a couple flying police cars and drones. And the ever-present oppression and surveillance that littered those works of fiction. Not that that factor wasn’t at work in reality. Plenty of furs were oppressed, and surveillance was essentially a part of their everyday lives now with modern technology. The future is now, as some were inclined to say.

She ignored the hustlers handing out flyers for various clubs, bands and strip joints, ducked past the annoying catcalling drunk guys and practically sprinted past a particularly nasty iguana hurling obscenities and threats at her before her phones GPS blipped to tell her the destination was to her left; an old converted church painted black with a small gated courtyard with a pair of gargoyles sitting sentinel atop stone pillars. 

The only telling that it was even a business was the small glowing sign on the gate, “Hidden Virtues” written in cute cursive above the decal of a riding crop. Frankie appreciated the subtlety; most outwardly vanilla furs probably didn’t want to be seen entering a BDSM dungeon, especially one as imposing as this one. A rhino stood as security at the front door, looking at the age on her I.D. then to her doubtfully before he reluctantly let her in.

The lobby felt rather prosaic compared to what she expected. Whereas Frankie had imagined a dusky, dimly lit entryway with blood-red walls and plush carpeting, she was instead met with a traditional office building design; off-white walls, chairs and a few couches lining the walls with a front desk, behind which a rather effeminate-looking, bespectacled male raccoon a couple years younger than herself sat working on the computer. He wore a tight black latex halter top that connected around his neck with a heavy leather collar as well as a pair of leather wrist cuffs. Looking up he noticed the bewildered rat standing in the doorway.

“Walk-in or appointment?” he asked bluntly, returning to his work on the computer.

“What?”

The raccoon-the tag hanging from his collar read “Max”-rolled his eyes. “Do you have an appointment or are you just walking in?” he rattled off slowly as if talking to a child. “Because walk-ins aren’t accepted at this hour.”

Eyes narrowing, Frankie stomped over to the desk, Max matching her glare calmly. From here she could see he wore a pair of equally tight hot pants highlighting the bulge of his crotch. 

“What the fuck is this place, a hair dresser?” she snapped with false bravado, gesturing around herself. “Where’s the fanfare? Where’s the pictures of naked ladies and guys tied up and whipped? Looks like a doctors office here. Complete with bitchy receptionist.” She smiled inwardly as the last barb caused a tinge of anger to cross Max’s face for a moment.

“I can’t answer for the Mistresses, Ma’am.” he said evenly. “But if you have an appointment you can definitely ask them. All you have to do is tell me your name,” he finished, his paws hovering over the keyboard as he looked at her.

Watching him for a tense moment Frankie finally sighed, looking away. “Frances McKay, they said I have a session with someone named Katherine.”

Tapping keys for several minutes, Max reached under the desk and pulled out a clipboard with a form and pen attached. “Fill this out honestly, please. It shouldn’t take more than 5 minutes. Mainly legal stuff as well as kinks, limits, safeword yada yada you get the drill.” Handing it off he promptly forgot about her, engrossed in work once again.

Most of the forms were basic information not unlike a doctors visit, minus insurance. With a feeling of guilt she marked Tess down for her emergency contact. It’s not like she had anyone else, having left the scene and her friends (with the exception of Kallista) after what happened to Charlotte. Going back felt too painful, and she knew that despite the kind words and condolences Charlotte’s friends secretly hated her for it.

The last page was a blank space for her to write, with the prompt being what she wanted out of the session. She hadn’t expected this kind of question; she just wanted to be hurt, not write a fucking essay. She decided bluntness was the best course and simply wrote “hurt me hard, make me scream. Fuck me up.”

*Jonesing for some real abuse, huh cunt?* the thoughts chirped and she couldn’t disagree.

Max did a quick once-over to make sure the form was filled out properly, then made a copy of her license before standing and ushering Frankie through a set of double doors down a short hallway into what looked like a locker room.

“Strip fully please, and put your clothes in one of the lockers.”

“What!? Here?”

“Yes please, and into a locker,” he reiterated again taking on the grating, patronizing tone of a teacher instructing an unruly child. “Quickly please, Miss Katherine hates tardiness.”

Finding no other option (and beginning to feel a slight heat between her legs at the thought of this strict “Katherine,”) she shrugged out of her jacket. She was halfway through lifting her shirt up when she realized Max was still in the room with her, just leaning against a wall watching her indifferently. He still held the clipboard under his arm.

“Do you mind?” Frankie asked with annoyance, hands on her hips. Who the fuck did this guy think he was?

“Oh no, go right ahead. I’ve seen it plenty of times,” the raccoon said with a smirk.

“I meant do you mind leaving, I’m not gonna get naked in front of some dude I don’t know. Especially not in a goddamn bdsm dungeon. Big gay here, bud. Now scoot please.” She pointed to herself for emphasis before waving him off dismissively.

Clearly incensed, Max stalked over to her. “Who the fuck do you take me for?” he growled. “Do I look like some idiot who thinks with his dick? We have this thing here called workplace security. I’m responsible for the Mistresses safety, which means I need to supervise each client as they prepare. What if someone tried to bring in a knife or a gun and I wasn’t there to stop them? So no, I won’t fucking scoot. You can swallow your pride for once, or you can pay the cancellation fee and leave. What’s it gonna be?”

*Jeez, he’s convicted huh?* the thoughts observed. ‘Looked about ready to give you the ol’ cunt punt. Would you cum from that I wonder?’

*Shut the fuck up,* she thought in response, and they died down.

They looked at each other for what felt like an eternity before Frankie finally pulled her shirt over her head.

“Fine,” she relented. “But if you get to see mine, I get to see yours.”

Max’s eyes glanced over Frankie’s chest for a moment, lingering for a second on her nipple studs and the tattoo of a sharp-toothed grinning mouth before smiling lightly, unbuckling his collar and struggling out of his own top then replacing the collar around his neck. “Fair enough.” he said, a light blush playing across his face. 

They decided to take their pants off at the same time, rationalizing that neither one could be more embarrassed than the other that way. Unfortunately though, Max had a little something special under his hot pants.

“Whoa,” Frankie said incredulously. “Is that a chastity cage?”

Cocking his hip and spreading his legs, Max let Frankie get a good eyeful of his locked up package. Wrapped around his cock was a small, matte black cage held in place with a padlock. The design was amazing to Frankie, having only seen such things on the internet.

“Yep,” chirped the raccoon, daring Frankie to make a joke about it. “It was a gift from my Mistress when she collared me.”

“How cute,” she chuckled. “Do they come in ladies variants too?” The question was already out before she caught herself, a paw flying to her muzzle. Fuck.

“They do,” Max replied. “A couple of the other subs wear them as well, if their owners want them to. You can ask Miss Katherine about getting one for yourself if you're interested.”

“N-no thanks!” Frankie stammered out, blushing and smiling sheepishly. “Just a joke! Hahaha!” She cringed at the sound of the forced laughter but Max brushed it off, strangely nonchalant nude in front of a stranger.

After hanging Frankie’s clothes and noting the locker number Max handed her a short thin robe to wear, donning one himself before guiding her back through the hallway, this time to a flight of stairs leading down to the basement level.

“The ground floor is mainly used for hosting exhibitions, munches, showcases and the like,” Max explained as they descended. “And the top floor are the Mistresses' dressing rooms. Down here we have specialized rooms for sessions.” Stopping at a door simply marked with a 4, he turned a small green sign over to red before letting her inside.

This was far more like it, Frankie thought as she surveyed the room. One wall was dedicated to various bondage paraphernalia and clothes; whips and restraints, gags and hoods modeled on mannequin heads lined shelves and hung from racks flanked by a pair of wardrobes filled with all manner of fetish outfits-from schoolgirl uniforms to full on gimp suits, with varying sizes for each. 

On the wall opposite sat a frame made from steel piping with chains ending in carabiner clips hanging from each corner, adjustable to any furs body size. There was a leather upholstered sawhorse covered with restraining points, as well as a cage easily capable of holding someone. Situated in the corner was a large, ornately decorated and heavily cushioned throne befit only for a Dominant. She felt like a kid getting a hold of their first porno mag. A strange euphoria was enveloping her. It felt almost unreal in her mind. Thankfully Max was there to bring her back.

“You’ll need to wait here while I go let Miss Katherine know you’re ready. You can sit on the bench over there by the door if you want, but Miss Katherine prefers her subs off the furniture when she hasn’t given direct permission,” Max said, pointing to a short leather bench beside the door.

“Robe please,” he gestured with an open paw emphatically, and Frankie reluctantly surrendered the cloth to him.

Getting ready to leave Max paused at the door, shooting a knowing look at the rat girl. “Think about what you really want out of this,” he said just loud enough to hear before slipping out, leaving Frankie alone and confused.

Dusting off a place in the middle of the padded floor the rat girl sat, legs crossed like she was waiting for a teacher to give instructions, eyes focused on the door.
---

“Goddammit Ness will you shut that fucking racket off already!?” The annoying dubstep the young bunny loved to blast through her phone was threatening to drive Katherine crazy, thankfully not enough to just take the girls phone and chuck it at a wall-just enough to yell and curse. She only wanted to get ready for her session but the girl seemed determined to annoy her. Vanessa had been alerted to her client’s arrival almost 10 minutes ago but preferred to make them wait, as was her style; she was content to fuss over her makeup and hair, vanity covered in a forest of all means of beauty products.

“Yeah,” chimed Imogen from across the room, the crow dressing into her casual clothes and preparing to leave for the night once Max was ready. “It’s doing my head in.”

Vanessa paused in her eyeliner application to turn herself around in her seat and face the Lab woman. Classified by Katherine upon her initial interview as the stereotypical “manic pixie,” she wore a black latex bikini along with ripped fishnet gloves and stockings complete with a pair of Doc Marten boots. A jeweled stud pierced her nostril, and a ring adjourned her bottom lip. Altogether dressed much like the bitch she was.

“Oh I’m sorry Kathy,” she said with feigned innocence. “I didn’t know your old granny ears still worked.” Smiling, she lowered the volume by a single decibel before returning to her makeup. “Hope that’s better. Probably dead silent for you now.”

“You fucking…” started Katherine before a large paw laid itself on her shoulder, turning to see Elise stood up and giving her a cautious look. Making sure there wasn’t about to be an outright assault in the dressing room, the pantheress herm turned her attention to Vanessa. Sauntering up behind her dressed in nothing but a pair of silk panties that barely held her cock at bay, Elise put her paws on both of the bunny’s shoulders and laid her tits on the girls head, drawing snickers from Katherine and Imogen.

“Now now, Creampuff. Don’t forget which rung on the ladder you’re on. It wasn’t too long ago sass like that earned you a throat full of my cock,” She purred, the aforementioned dick pressing against the tight bunny ass in front of her. Grinning fiendishly to the others, she pulled her phone out from the waistband of her panties. “In fact I still have you as my phone wallpapers.”

The muscled panthress had no trouble in holding the protesting young dom at bay while she held her phone aloft for the others to see. The lock screen showed a shot of Vanessa dressed in a leather bolero straight jacket, frogtied and sitting on the grinning pantheress’ lap with her cock firmly up the bunnies ass. Covering her head was a leather discipline hood embossed with the words “Anal Princess” on the forehead, and her pussy was sealed with several rings piercing her labia and the finishing touch being a steel shield encapulating her clit. 

The other ladies got a good laugh out of it, doubled when Elise showed her home screen; Vanessa in a leather bitchsuit, forced onto all fours with a nose hook pulling her head back and making her ring-gagged mouth into the perfect urinal, Elise’s stream arcing in from off camera and catching the light in an ironically artistic way.

Vanessa squirmed out of Elise’s grip and glared daggers at the giggling older women, blushing furiously. “Fuck you guys,” she growled wrapping a robe around her lithe form and stomping toward the door. “I’m late for my session.” 

“Have fun spanking that old lech!”  called out Imogen.

This of course brought a fresh round of laughter and, defeated, she slipped out, sliding past Max but too annoyed to give him her usual “move it, twerp” spiel she had adopted once she graduated from sub to dom.

“What’s her problem?” he asked, making his way towards Imogen who welcomed him in with open arm(s), nestling his face in her fulsome bosom. The stump of her right arm wrapped around him the best it could while she stroked the back of his head gently.

“Just reminding a bitch of the pecking order,” cooed the crow, lifting the young raccoons chin up to look at her. “How about you sweet boy, you ready to go?”

“Almost Mistress,” smiled Max. “Miss Katherine’s client is here and I have her information.”

“Perfect timing,” commented Katherine, taking the clipboard and scanning the details. Female, 25, a rat apparently. Too old to be a college girl dipping their toes, and too young to be a wife with a distant husband or a business lady looking for release from responsibility. Something different. Interesting.

She looked up when Max put his paw over the clipboard and gently pushed down, looking far too serious than a boy his age ever should.

“Be careful with her,” he said gravely. “She’s banged up, looks like she was in some sort of fight. Might not be in the right headspace for this right now. Look at the back.”

Flipping to the final section of the form, Katherine whistled quietly. “Do we need to call Doc?”

Max shook his head. “I don’t think so. I think she just needs someone to talk to right now. Make sure she’s going to be alright.”

“So she comes to a fucking dungeon?” asked Imogen incredulously, arm(s) raised and looking to Katherine for support but seeing the dog lost in thought.

“Alright,” she said after several moments. “I’ll look her over myself. You guys can go, if anything happens Jack is still here. I don’t think she’ll try anything knowing there’s a 600 pound rhino on call.”

“Fine,” Imogen huffed. Slipping a finger into the ring sewn into the front of Max’s collar she pulled him close. “We have a dinner reservation at 8, so go get dressed. I laid out that cute little black dress for you with some heels and panties; I want a slut on my arm, so I expect slut makeup in accordance, understand bitch?”

Blushing furiously, Max nodded silently and started for the door, yelping when the crow gave him a sharp slap to the ass as encouragement. Casting a smile behind him he slipped out the door.

Imogen looked Katherine dead in the eye. “Just know that if anything happens Max takes no responsibility.”

Katherine smiled. “Duly noted, Chicken Legs. Enjoy your dinner, when you’re not teasing your toy.” With that she left to her session, and this mysterious rodent waiting downstairs.
---

The sound of the doorknob turning filling the otherwise oppressively silent room caused Frankie to flinch before quickly settling into her best known submissive position. Kneeling, her ass pressing against her heels with her knees together and paws held palm outward resting on her legs. She kept her eyes down, seeing a pair of heeled boots and leather pants standing there as the door opened. Watch as they slowly, confidently strode into the room and lock the door behind her. Shivered as a gentle yet firm paw gripped her jaw and forced her to meet their gaze.

She was a dog, a Labrador to be specific. A tight leather blouse complemented her pants, moulded around her fulsome chest and opened to leave plenty of cleavage for the rat to enjoy. Used to the heavily made up, almost draconic dominatrixes from porn with blood red lips and heavy eyeshadow, Frankie found the minimal amount Miss Katherine used far more erotic and evocative. 

A dominant shouldn’t be making herself up to look pleasing to her sub, her sub should be working to please the Mistress. As such Frankie felt woefully underprepared for the encounter and even considered apologizing but Miss Katherine spoke up first.

“Cute,” she commented, a light smile playing across her lips but her eyes telling a different story. They looked concerned. “You’ve done this before I take it?”

“With girlfriends, Ma’am,” said Frankie quietly. She thought back on the many playtimes Tilly and she had on their teenage hobo escapades. Bound up and left in abandoned buildings while the cat went shopping, or having some intimate sadistic fun in the confines of their tent when they took refuge out in the woods during the hot months. Less so with Charlotte, the doe reluctant to take hold of the leash but gradually getting into it.

“Nice,” murred Katherine. “You’ll have to tell me about that later. For now, stand up, paws behind your neck. Eyes forward.”

Frankie quickly complied, the commanding tone of the woman’s voice sending a jolt through her loins. She felt the Lab’s paws on her, roughly adjusting her position.

“Straighten your back, stick your chest out; put your feet shoulder width apart. I said shoulder width,” she growled, kicking Frankie’s legs apart until they were spread to her liking and allowing her unimpeded access to the rodents (lightly bruised, Katherine silently noted) cunt. 

“Good. This position is called ‘present.’ It’s the go-to position for a slave when not given a direct order, understand?”

“Y-yes, Ma’am.”

Standing behind her, Katherine’s right paw cupped the almost nonexistent mound of Frankie’s breast, toying with the barbell through her nipple.

“I like these,” she whispered into her concentric ear, giving it a long slow lick that made the rat shudder in delight. “Had them a long time?”

“S...Since I was sixteen, Ma’am. My girlfriend got them for me as a birthday pres-ENT!” The last part squealed out as Katherine gave it a twist.

“For her, more likely,” she chuckled, releasing the girl and disappearing behind her again to one of the cabinets on the far wall. Frankie remained where she was, her gaze all but burning holes into the door while she listened to Katherine fiddle about.

She didn’t even hear the Lab before her arms encircled her, holding open a heavy black leather collar.

“Lower your arms and lift your chin.” Frankie complied and the collar wrapped around her throat, tight enough to always remind her of its presence but not choke, and thickly padded for comfort. Katherine stepped away again, watching Frankie’s paws roam over the new addition.

She loved it. She loved the smell of the leather, the strangely comforting tightness. Grounding her, like an anchor to reality. The thoughts were silent.

*Oh my God*

“Present.” 

Katherine’s command sliced through her introspection, and dazed she resumed position, thrusting her chest out and spreading her legs. Slowly, with measured steps Katherine stepped to face her. Their height difference meant Frankie’s gaze was centered on the Lab’s (probably D-cup, by Frankie’s judgment) breasts. Looking closely she could see the outlines of rings through her nipples. Fleetingly she wondered how they would feel on her tongue.

“Give me your wrists.”

Frankie held her paws in front of her and watched Katherine fasten a pair of leather cuffs to her wrists, matching her collar. Holding Frankie’s paws she placed a second pair of cuffs in them.

“Do the same with your ankles. Make them tight, don’t make me adjust them for you.” Frankie complied, trying to worm a finger underneath each one for effect before returning to the ‘present’ position.

“Quick learner. Good.” Gripping her by the arm, Katherine led the rat over to the metal frame. Getting her situated only took a minute, the carabiners chosen for their ease of use; one twist and you were free, much more conventional for limb restraint than locks.

Stepping back, Katherine observed the now spread-eagled girl. Frankie for her part was in her own world, eyes half lidded trying unsuccessfully to grind her thighs together and becoming increasingly more frustrated. She was too preoccupied to see Katherine release the breaks on the conveniently hidden casters beneath the frame’s platform, only noticing when she was actually in motion, looking frantically at the Lab until she was finally stopped facing the throne in the corner. Taking a small wooden box down from the shelf Katherine took a seat.

“Now that we’re settled I think it’s time for a talk,” she said, lifting the lid and taking something out that Frankie couldn’t see.

*What?*

“First; why do you look like you just came out of a bar fight, and smelling like burnt hair?”

Frankie felt frozen, wide eyes matching Katherine’s inquisitorial gaze for a moment before looking away and trying to stammer out an unintelligible reply, cut off by a yelp when her right nipple was suddenly crushed. Looking down she saw a crimped clothespin holding her nipple in it’s cruel grip.

“Word of advice cunt,” said Katherine evenly, holding a fresh pin in front of Frankie’s face. “When I ask a question, I expect an answer right away. No hesitation, no stammering or stuttering. Loud and clear. Understand?”

Breathing hard, her nipple burning in an altogether not unpleasant way that sent tingles through her belly. She tried - and failed - not to stutter out a reply. “Sorry Ma’am, I-I-AAAHHH!” She squealed as her other nipple received a matching pin.

“Next one’s going on your nose so you’d better think about your next sentence.”

Overwhelmed, thoughts and feelings melding with the heat between her legs, Frankie burst into tears, irking out a response between hitching sobs.

“I-I-gasp-I just fuck-gasp-e-everything-gasp-up! I j-just hurt-gasp-everyone around me! I c-can’t even-gasp-answer a fucking question! I’m worthless!”

She was caught off guard by Katherine’s sudden strong grip on her face, forcing her to match the Lab’s deep gaze. “There it is,” she said, with both triumph and remorse.

“What is,” sniffed Frankie, muffled through Katherine’s fingers.

“The truth, or at least your truth.” She released the rats chin and let her head droop down, tears still falling but her sobs tapered off. “I take it whoever you hurt did this to you too,” she said while gently running her paw over Frankie’s bruised cheek and split lip, down to the singed fur and burn marks on her neck from the tasers contact points then down her flexing abdomen to her bruised, sensitive folds.

Frankie shook her head. “Yes. No. I just…”

She let it all spill out. The rings. Her self abuse in the alley. Kallista and Tess. By the time she was finished she was once again crying softly, hanging limply in her restraints. Katherine for her part simply sat and listened, gently prompting when necessary to get her to continue until there was no more left to tell.

Once again Frankie felt the Lab’s grip on her jaw force her to look up. “I think that’s enough for one day, Pet.” She motioned to release her.

“NO!” shouted Frankie, struggling out of Katherine’s grip. “Please don’t…” She slumped back down.

“I can’t go back. Not now. I need this.”

They stood there for what felt like an eternity in Frankie’s mind. Katherine stood with her paws on her hips, studying the rat like she was under a microscope. Finally she disappeared behind her again, Frankie trying uselessly to crane her neck over her shoulder, wincing as her struggling jiggled the pins still on her nipples. A ball gag was pushed behind her buck teeth, the head harness buckled in place. Katherine made her take hold of a stress ball, folding the rats fingers tight around it.

“Since you can’t safeword when you’re gagged, if you drop this it means the session stops, I release you and you go home. Understand?” Humbled, Frankie nodded slowly.

“Good,” smiled Katherine as she hefted a leather cat-o-nine tails and strode behind the bound rat. “You’re going to suffer for me, bitch. You’ll suffer because it pleases me, because that is how you will find your worth. Free yourself under the lash.”

She couldn’t prepare herself when the first lash sent a line of fire across her back and a jolt of pleasure through her cunt.