Ishraq had spent the better part of a week toiling away for Fabien Laurent. Despite the short time he had been imprisoned in the fruit bat’s mansion, he felt that he was working his large, ursine paws to the bone. From the moment he woke, stiff and aching in his cramped kennel at dawn, to the second he staggered back to his quarters late at night, he was constantly given orders. Most of the time he was kept tidying the palatial estate, but he had also been called upon to help the cook and gardener, as well as move heavy furniture or sculptures. He hated the latter tasks because, if he happened to damage anything, that one small mistake could cost him thousands (and by extension, weeks) in his Master's employ. It wasn’t long before the sun bear learned that it was best to slow down a bit in his daily duties. He would always be given more at the end when he finished, so he didn’t have much incentive to accomplish any more than to stay out of the way and do the bare minimum to avoid incurring the mobsters’ wrath for slacking off.

He was, more than once a day, summoned to pleasure the crime lord or those in his inner circle. Usually he was commanded to help relieve some tension by orally servicing his host’s underlings. All of the criminals enjoyed using his maw as a urinal as much as their boss did, and it wasn’t uncommon for Ishraq to make it back to his suite in the evening with a belly full of piss and cum from several different anthros whose names he didn’t even know. So far his temporary owner had only indulged in using his slave’s muzzle, but his guests and thugs had no reservations about roughly pounding the bear’s ass at any opportunity as well: often leaving his hole stretched, sore, and leaking.

Ishraq had finally stopped waking in the middle of the night to the sharp pain of his nocturnal erections being stifled by his cage after finally growing somewhat used to its unending presence. He had, at least, become somewhat accustomed to being perpetually naked and exposed with his sheath locked into a short, useless nub for any and all to see. However, due the excess of sexual attention he received, a persistent, aching need had built in his sac and threatened to drive him mad. 

Life settled into an unpleasant routine. The bear endured it stoically, and had managed to avoid upsetting the winged fur or his cohorts badly enough that more was added to his debt. He kept his mind focused on making it through the month, and was simultaneously relieved and exhausted by the time he realized he was already a quarter of the way through his sentence. 

It was on his seventh day at the manor that his cleaning regiment brought him to a room he hadn’t seen before. He was dusting and sweeping the hallways in Fabien’s private wing when he found it nestled away near the end of a long hallway. At first Ishraq thought it was just a supply closet. Most of the rooms he had encountered either had ornate, open archways leading into chambers with obvious purposes or some sort of engraving or plaque on closed doors explaining whose office or suite it was. The room wasn’t scrawled on the list of where he was supposed to clean for the day, but out of curiosity he tested the knob and tentatively nudged the door open. He could always act like he was confused as to where he was supposed to clean if there was someone within.

Inside was an octagonal room that was three stories high. The walls were constructed of a series of huge, square panes of glass, making it resemble a conservatory, albeit one that was tall and narrow rather than expansive at ground level. Chains of varying length hung from the ceiling attached to winches and pulleys. Some had wide bars that Ishraq could imagine his Master perching upon and hanging upside-down from. The windows forming the walls were covered with a thin layer of faded newspaper that was painstakingly taped together to block out any sight into, or out of, the room, but let plenty of hazy sunlight filter in. The ursine could see the lazily drifting motes of dust in the sunbeams. The swirled and danced as he entered.

Ishraq remembered catching a glimpse of the peculiar tower several days before, when it reflected the twinkling lights from the garden party, but hadn’t paid it much mind in light of the chaos around him at the time.

The most marvelous thing about the interior was that there were several dozen paintings hanging on the walls, some of which were high above him. They were some of the most beautiful works of art that the bear had ever seen. Even with his untrained eye, he could see that a steady paw had created masterwork after masterwork with gentle, flowing brushstrokes. Each canvas was a mix of oil and watercolor. They all utilized drab, washed-out color palettes with the exception of one or two key hues in each picture which were deep and bold and vivid. The works were abstract and modern, but focused on flight and whimsy. They seemed the counterpoint to the austere, imposing paintings that the servant had encountered elsewhere in the manor. Regardless of the clear difference in mood, these were done by the same artist, or at least in the same style with the same attention to detail.

A mostly complete painting sat on an easel in the center of the room. A heavily stained tray laden with paints and brushes and cups and other tools rested nearby. Ishraq checked over his shoulder to ensure that he was alone before shutting the door softly behind him and venturing further in to get a closer look. He considered the canvas on the easel. The backdrop was a faded brown with a golden, crescent-shaped streak, not unlike the one in his fur beneath his own throat, splashed horizontally across the center. Fuzzy patches of off-white, as small as droplets or as sizable as his palm, where smudged randomly across it. The energy in the work came from vibrant splatters of lime green and strawberry red amidst the cream. Intentional or not, the painting made him think of when he was the serving platter at the brunch party earlier in the week, which already seemed a lifetime ago.

He glanced at the paintings along the wall. Unlike those in the rest of the manor, these were signed. The signature was looping and intricate, made in black with a fine-tipped brush.

Laurent.

It was difficult for Ishraq to match his cruel captor who had already put him through so much with the creator of such beauty. The bear had never been interested in art, so it was pretty rare that he found a painting he cared to look at twice, let alone an entire gallery so arresting that captivated him to the point he had trouble looking away. A particularly lonely and melancholy piece at odds with the ones around it caught his attention, and made him think of the phone call he had overheard between his owner and an assassin days before. Frustration and loss practically oozed from the canvas, and yet, a glimmering splash of brightness in the work drew the eye. A hopeful speck in the darkness.

While he gawked, he missed the door opening behind him.

“This room is completely off limits,” Fabien’s icy voice demanded his attention and sent a chill down his spine.

Ishraq spun to face the bat. Laurent’s massive ears were pulled back taut and his black eyes smoldered with fury. His arms were crossed making his wing bones spear out to either side of him, causing his already imposingly tall form to be all the more intimidating.

“I’m sorry, Master,” the sun bear replied hastily. He instinctively bowed his head and stared at the floor. He was actually sincere in his apology too. He wasn’t sorry that he strayed from his duties since it was no fault of his own that he was being held captive there, but he couldn’t help but feel that he had stumbled into a very private chamber and glimpsed his temporary owner’s very soul. The wonders stored in this room weren’t meant for him.

He strongly considered saying nothing more as the crime lord silently assessed him, but added softly after a moment of awkward speechlessness, “You’re very talented. These are beautiful.”

Laurent considered him silently for a long moment, his face unreadable before it twisted into a snarl.

“Clean elsewhere. Leave me!”

Ishraq scampered away, eager to get out of the enraged fruit bat’s presence. He hurried to finish what he was working on in that wing before departing. Fabien didn’t emerge from the studio while he was still there.

Hours later when the ursine’s duties again brought him near the nondescript door to the megabat’s studio, he paused as he walked past. There was more to his handsome and vicious host than met the eye. His distant and aloof nature hid something special within him. Something...repressed, Ishraq felt. Something possessed the bear to bypass his natural caution and take a risk. He knew that he shouldn’t. He still felt shame for intruding earlier. He knew that there wasn’t anything to gain by doing so, but still he couldn’t help creeping up to the door and pressing his small, round ear against it to listen. When he detected nothing within, he pried the door a crack and stepped inside. The half-finished painting that was on the easel earlier was missing along with the palette and most of the spare paints and brushes. He inspected the paintings displayed on or propped against the covered windows more thoroughly, taking time to soak in each until he was satisfied.

Finally he stealthily departed and, with no one the wiser, finished his duties. It was still somewhat early in the evening when he was done, when he’d normally be kept working until long into the night. For the first time since his arrival, he was able to finish a task without one of Fabien’s goon’s hovering nearby to make further demands. He had even managed to avoid Loud and Quiet all day, and enjoyed being able to go several hours without tasting one of their orgasms spilled across his tongue. He rushed up to his chambers, hoping for a few minutes to himself, even if they weren’t particularly comfortable ones.

Outside his suite stood Loud, Laurent’s calico thug. He glowered at Ishraq and for a heartbeat the ursine had thought he had jinxed himself and he was going to be wrong on both counts. He sighed more heavily than he perhaps should have, but the thought that he would soon be swallowing the piss and cum of the cat and his silent hedgehog shadow was an unpleasant one. 

The feline let his eyes roam across the naked, chaste bear and his expression changed to open interest. He lavaciously licked his lips and adjusted the bulge in his trousers while he basked in the tension he inspired in Ishraq.

“I wish you had the time to get fucked right now-” the sun bear winced as he recalled feeling the cat’s barbed cock slam in and out of him several times that week. Even if Loud’s maleness wasn’t particularly generous in size, the spines along his length were definitely an acquired taste. “Unfortunately Monsieur Laurent requests your presence in his chambers...immediately. He isn’t in a good mood. He never is this time of day.” The bat seemed to be active at all hours, making his slave question when he actually slept, but following a natural, nocturnal rhythm it would be closing in on early “morning” for him. “Maybe I shouldn’t have stopped for a break on the way here, just to make you a bit more late,” he mused aloud. “Don’t forget to show the boss proper respect.”

The cat passed the servant and slunk back down the hall, brushing up against him and grabbing a pawful of his ass as he wandered by. Glancing that way the bear could see his voiceless cohort, watching the brief exchange. Heading to Laurent’s suite rather than his office meant that the bear was likely going to be used. He remembered his first morning at the manor, when he had been called to the megabat’s opulent bathroom to be marked and taught his place in the mansion’s hierarchy. That first acrid splash of piss across his tongue had become all too familiar. Coming from the right fur, he actually didn’t mind it. He had always wished his former mate, the oryx Simon, could take such charge and be so domineering. Unfortunately, he had been passed around by more mobsters than he could count in the days since his arrival.

‘So much for getting an evening off,’ the ursine thought to himself, dispirited. Despite the apparent urgency for which he was sent, Ishraq still popped into his rooms to swiftly wash away the sweat and grime of the day and brush the worst of the muss from his fur. If the cunning calico had already endeavored to force him into a punishment for being late, an extra five minutes wouldn’t make any difference. When he felt clean enough he ambled toward Laurent’s private wing.

He presented himself unreservedly naked at the door and knocked solidly. It pulled open between his second and third tap, as if his host were waiting impatiently on the other side.

“You wanted to see me, Master?”

“You are late,” Fabien spat. His head was cocked to the side, letting one of his enormous ears dangle. Per usual, he was naked from the waist up, and wore only tight fitting black denim that hugged his slender legs and showed off the elastic waistband of his designer underwear. His dusky fur revealed every curvature and definition of his sinewy frame, and the shock of banana-yellow dyed into his coat below his navel directed the eye downward to his prominent bulge. His wings were folded back, but  still broad enough that they added a sense of power to the male’s anatomy. In spite of himself, the bear found his sheath plumping and forcing itself against the unyielding bars of his chastity cage. A drop of pre beaded at the tip. Ishraq, partially to cover his shameful arousal at the sight of the imposing prince of a criminal empire and partly to stave off the worst of his potential punishment by showing complete submission, promptly bowed at the waist and waited silently.

The bat stepped to one side and swept his claw out toward his entryway. His slave shuffled quickly inside. His first instinct was to point himself toward the bathroom. It had been a little while since he was last properly marked by Laurent, and many furs had pissed on him in the meantime, masking the scent and causing its potency to wane. He assumed that at least one reason for his summoning was to reapply his intoxicating scent and let it soak deep into his pelt once more. 

The fruit bat shut the door and instead guided him silently down another hallway, which opened into a tall room. Much like his studio that Ishraq had covertly viewed earlier, perches on chains hung from varying lengths from the ceiling, the lowest of which was almost an entire floor above them. Some were attached to the ceiling itself while others were strung like chandeliers from winches, levers, and cranks at the ground level to be easily adjustable, all carefully positioned so that something else in the room blocked it from casual viewing.

The room, like all rooms in Fabien’s home, was tastefully decorated without being needlessly gaudy. He let his fine eye for detail speak for itself, manifesting as gold-gilt marble floors and columns and heavy crimson curtains to either side of the massive windows overlooking the scenic vista behind the manor, which only grew more awe inspiring the higher angle one viewed it from. Some pieces of plush furniture littered the edges of the room, but they were too few and far apart to be used for entertaining or conversation even though a massive television screen was set into one wall. Ishraq spied a wardrobe, a chest of drawers, and a couple of ornate trunks as well. This made the bear think that it might be a bedroom, but no bed was immediately visible.

At the center of the room was the studio’s missing easel and canvas. In stark contrast to the room around it, the easel sat on a layer of haphazardly spread newspaper that was splattered with paint of various colors. Brushes and other art paraphernalia lay nearby. It had been improved since Ishraq had seen it earlier with a multitude of subtle touch ups.

“When I get a free moment- which is very rare- I paint. It may look as though I live in the lap of luxury, but I hold a very stressful and tenuous position.”

The fruit bat’s accent came out strong. He spoke slowly and deliberately, as if carefully selecting each word and examining it from every angle in his head to weigh whether or not it was worth stating before speaking it. His servant was unsure why he was being told this, but kept silent for fear of reprisal should he respond incorrectly.

“My art...it has been languishing as of late. It is repetitive. Stagnant. Dull. Motivation had left me.”

The repeated themes and techniques had not escaped the ursine’s notice, but to his admittedly unartistic self, they seemed excellent.

“Until the brunch at the start of your tenure here, that is. This latest piece is different. It has a renewed splendor. For some reason, your presence here has inspired me. Perhaps it is because you are not a fawning sycophant. I can feel your anger. Your resentment. And your defiance toward me. It is a passion, of a kind. Like lust. Raw and biting. I have not sensed such pure emotion in a long while. Today I wish to work with a new medium. And you, my unwilling muse, will assist me.”

“What do you need me to do, Master?” Ishraq asked. He had seen enough of the criminal’s cruel tendencies to know that this could easily twist itself into a painful experience on a callous whim.

The bat carefully removed his easel and canvas from the newsprint and set it aside. 

“Stand here,” he bade his slave, motioning to where the painting previously rested. “Since you appreciate my art so much, I am going to have you help me paint.”

The sun bear stepped into his assigned place while his owner procured a couple of pairs of cuffs and a few very long lengths of chain from one of the nearby chests. Attached to each cuff was a thick, sturdy ring. He tightly secured each of his pet’s ankles with a cuff and Ishraq held his paws forth without being prompted. As bondage was coming into play he steeled himself for a lashing, but he was still confused since Fabien seemed rather adept at BDSM, and he could hardly consider that a new artistic medium to practice with. After the cuffs were on both his wrists and ankles, the bat attached all four of them to the chains by carabiner clips.

He coiled the other end of the chain loosely around his collar and turned toward one of the many columns in the room. Without explaining himself he bolted toward it, breaking into a brisk sprint to the pillar. He lept when he approached it, gaining a fair bit of height before letting his talons catch onto small, nearly invisible grooves seemingly cut for his claws that were camouflaged among the glittering inlay on the marble. With surprising agility he scampered vertically up the pillar until he was high enough that he would be on the second story if there were a floor to stand on. Without warning, he then fell backward and twisted his abdomen as he started to plummet.

He snapped out his diaphanous wings and, after dropping several feet, caught the air and glided smoothly around the massive chamber in a wide, sweeping arc. He began to flap and broke into full flight. This was not the first time that Ishraq had seen a winged anthro fly, and knew that it required no small amount of determination and stamina to remain airborne for long. And yet, Laurent made it look effortless as he stayed aloft and fluttered higher with each circling pass. Eventually the bat clutched one of the suspended rungs with his foot-talons and perched upon it. He folded his wings back against himself again, an action that was as quick as the spring on a switchblade. In the same fluid motion, he swung forward and down until he clung upside-down from it, flexing his acrobatic skill. He craned his neck down toward his plaything. The chains fell from his throat as he did so, and he caught it in one of his paws without even looking at it before it crashed down atop Ishraq below.

He wasted no time in threading the chains over the perch bar before letting go himself. He fell into a very brief, graceful dive before gliding swiftly and safely back to the floor, trailing the rattling links behind him. 

He landed with flair in a crouch that seemed to Ishraq to be a pose out of a comic book, then stood and pulled the chains to a set of nearby, unused levers. He looped them over the teeth of the gear attached to each and cranked them a number of times in order to pull the lengths taut. The bear immediately felt the pull on his bindings. The chains attached to his wrist shackles ended up being shorter than the one attached to his ankles and made his paws rise high above his head. This left him feeling incredibly exposed and defenseless as he stood erect on his tiptoes, foot-paws barely still on the floor.

Fabien purposefully made his way back to the bear and walked around him in a slow, silent circle, examining him from all angles as one might admire a sculpture. 

“I am going to paint...you,” Laurent told him. 

Isn’t that what you’ve already done? Ishraq thought, considering the recently finished painting that seemed to clearly be a close up of him covered in fruit and coconut cream.

“But first,” The bat unbuttoned the fly of his tight jeans and shimmied them down his hips before sliding them all of the way off his talons and tossing them carelessly aside, his underwear along with them. He stood as starkly naked as his slave, albeit minus the chastity cage and plus a fair few piercings, including the prominent silver ring near the tip of his sheath. As much as Ishraq hated himself for it, he enjoyed the sight of the winged anthro’s hefty testicles and remembered the taste of them emptying into his maw while his own desire went unsated. The enticing visual of his nude form, simultaneously slender and strong with a dominating posture, awakened the simmering lust inside the ursine. That dull ache in his sac flared up anew. He felt his sheath plump further with each beat of his heart until his stifled erection fought a losing battle against its steel prison, leaking a glistening strand of pre to the newspaper below. “That is better. I tend to paint in the nude to prevent any of my clothing from getting ruined. From the look of it, you will not mind.”

Fabien swiped a claw through the oozing dribble and rubbed the slick substance between his fingers. He wiped his paw clean by gently caressing his servant’s inner thigh with it. Ishraq trembled, feeling heat rush to his maleness. His breath caught in his throat. The bat’s pointed muzzle tweaked into a sly smile at the effect he was having on his captive, and allowed his claws to tangle in the fur near his crotch before suddenly and cruelly flicking his testicle. The sun bear winced and bit back a grunt while his Master retrieved the palette and paints and returned to stand before him.

The criminal squeezed out an ample volume of a half dozen vibrant colors and set the tray on the floor beside him. He bent down and scooped up a blazing red on the fingers on his right paw and a vibrant yellow that matched the various patches dyed into his other. It ran down between his claws, coated his palms, and dripped to the covered floor.

He cocked his head almost ninety degrees to the side as if indecisive on how to start, before he eventually righted himself and he nodded resolutely. He placed his crimson coated talon on the bear’s ribs, just under his arm, and smeared a few trails from his claws down his thrall’s stout torso angled toward his navel. He continued down over the soft V that separated his thigh and his groin. He lifted his claws just before they made contact with the shiny steel chastity cage, then repeated the process on the other side with the yellow paint. The damp chill from the paint soaked into Ishraq’s fur, tickling him and making him fidget. He fought the urge to squirm at the sensation so he didn’t raise his owner’s ire.

It was a strangely stimulating situation the bear found himself in. The mobster’s paws roaming over his body with meaning and precision made a mess of his fur, but for once he wasn’t mixed on the sensations he felt. He enjoyed BDSM, and the trials he had been put through over the last week had always left him with the uneasy mix of enjoying many (although certainly not all) of the feelings he experienced on some level, but despising pretty much every anthro in charge of doing those things to him. He liked this. The fruit bat’s sensual touch made his sheath throb in its cage. He felt himself pulse against the bars and produced a steady stream of pre, which glittered in the light of sunset.

The criminal noticed and smirked. It wasn’t his usual smug smile of superiority- there was something underlying it. It was as though he enjoyed bringing pleasure to the ursine almost as much as he enjoyed causing pain. The light reflecting off of his completely black eyes was the only tell that his sight flickered up to his slave’s face. He smashed his paw into a pool of lime green and pressed a strong, clear paw-print over the crest on Ishraq’s chest. His claws gripped tightly enough that they threatened to tear into the skin beneath his coat. Afterward, he pulled the same talon across his slave’s cheek to leave a faux scratch mark of verdant paint. The servant realized then that he had now been marked as the bat’s property in more ways than one.

Fabien Laurent’s long, spindly claws grabbed a firm fistful of the chaste bear’s rump, and almost massaged the flesh there as he dyed the bear's fur with a further rainbow of color. Ishraq lost a sense of time. After a while of being stuck bound in a single pose for his host to use as a canvas his muscles and joints ached, but he didn’t dare vocalize his discomfort. The bat artist was entranced with his work. Whether it was dragging a single talon across Ishraq’s collarbone, fondling his hefty, aching sac, or streaking a multihued mess across his hip, he was unerringly focused. Just above the smell of the fresh paint was the potent scent of arousal suffusing the air.

If the crime lord was in his element whipping or paddling his slave, or spraying him with piss, or keeping him locked in chastity, he was transcendent as he painted.

He eventually paused and stepped close enough to set his face alongside the sun bear’s.

“You should close your eyes,” he rasped in a husky whisper into his pet’s ear. Without considering why, the ursine did so.

The artist stepped back and squeezed a healthy volume of paint into both of his paws before flinging it at his charge, creating a pair of purposeful splashes across his slightly plump form. He repeated this at several angles before finally flicking his claws free of wetness, leaving a few final droplets on the bear’s pelt, and allowed the ursine to open his eyes once more. 

When Ishraq was splattered to the point where there was practically none of his original fur color showing through, Laurent stepped back. He surveyed his handiwork with an unreadable expression as he wiped his claws clean on a damp rag. Judging from the full erection he was sporting, the bat was clearly aroused. Whether it was from his display of dominance in using his captive servant as a canvas or from the erotic painting itself, the bear couldn’t say. In either case, Fabien’s tapered, marbled scarlet length freely leaked pre. His quivering shaft glistened and periodically throbbed with desire while his gaze turned carnal. The criminal's own body was speckled with paint as well, but not nearly coated in the same fashion as his slave’s. His chest heaved, as though he had exerted himself immensely.

It was only then that the submissive anthro realized just how long he had been getting painted. The realization made his joints suddenly ache and his muscles burn.

“This is good,” the mobster stated after an awkward silence. Ishraq could see much of his own reflection in the gigantic black television screen he was facing. He did look like a modern, painted sculpture that he would expect to see in a museum or gallery, were it not for the shackles and chastity cage that gave his appearance a distinctly and undeniably lewd twist. “Perhaps this was just what I needed to break through my block. Unfortunately for you, this does not exclude you from punishment.”

“Punishment, Master?” he asked warily. There was only one thing he had broken the rules on, and that was heading back to the studio to see more of the paintings earlier. However, he didn’t want to admit to wrongdoing and receive further maltreatment if he was merely going to be punished to satiate the flying fur’s lust for dominance, or over an imagined slight. With the unexpected intensity of the past hour, the sun bear found himself actually yearning for the former.

The fruit bat glared at him and retrieved a remote control from a nearby cabinet.

“Perhaps we should get a shock collar for you, to keep you where you belong. Then I could summon you with the press of a button,” he threatened. “Or maybe it is not your neck I should consider shocking.” His glassy eyes slanted downward to the metal bars encasing Ishraq’s sheath.

Ishraq gulped as Laurent clicked a button on the remote. He half expected the controller to somehow electrocute him, but the crime lord pointed it at the screen.

“Tu es trop curieux pour ton bien-être, non?” The towering anthro leveled sharply. The words came so fast that the sun bear couldn’t quite parse them, but the meaning became clear soon enough.

An image appeared on the massive television. It was split into a couple of different windows, each with their own CCTV recording set side by side. One showed Ishraq stealthily padding down the corridor and creeping into the studio. The other was inside of the studio itself, where the sun bear examined the paintings.

“I’m sorry, Master,” he said instinctively. The brutal lessons over the last week had been harshly beaten into him. He wasn’t sure if he was apologizing for not catching what his owner said, or for the trespass, or both. He feared rough reprisal. A beating. Perhaps time added to his sentence. And that was if he was lucky. The punishments and deeds he had been made to experience very often strayed into the realm of humiliation and degradation, leaving marks that ran far deeper than scars. “I’m so sorry.”

“You were explicitly told to avoid that room. Today’s punishment shall be particularly harsh.”

Ishraq took deep, steady breaths, trying not to panic about what would come next.

“But first, we must wash away this paint. It is a shame that work so exquisite must be temporary.”

Laurent went over to the levers and released enough slack on the chains holding up his slave’s arms that Ishraq could drop down onto his paws and knees. The bear stretched his stiff arms and legs, and rotated his sore shoulders. Meanwhile, the megabat had managed to quell his thrumming hardness enough that it retreated halfway into its plump sheath. He returned while grabbing his maleness and angled it down at his kneeling servant’s face.

“Keep your mouth open. You will be swallowing nearly as much as I use on your body to remove the paint,” he stated sternly. “Do not worry about the mess. You will be cleaning it up in the morning.”

Without further ceremony the fruit bat set his foot-paws apart, talons clattering against the floor, and released his bladder. The sun bear did as commanded and opened his muzzle wide. A strong initial surge of piss sprayed into his maw. He fought the temptation to grimace as the potent taste splashed across his tongue. The ursine swallowed the warm, salty offering as expeditiously as he could, but the flow was strong enough that it quickly ran down over his chin and trickled down his neck. The megabat started swishing his cock back and forth, hosing off the paint. The piss mixed with the damp paint in his fur, rinsing it off and pooling into an acrid-scented, kaleidoscopic puddle around the subservient anthro. When the majority of the paint had been washed away onto the newspaper beneath him, Laurent moved his diminishing stream back to his unwilling slave’s face, splashing across his snout. He then placed his tip right on the bear’s lips to spurt the last drops down his throat. He milked out what he had left in him and dragged the crown across Ishraq’s tongue.

“I will return shortly,” he told his slave. He strode out of the room, leaving the dripping, degraded bear to wallow in his piss-soaked fur. He came back an indeterminate amount of time later carrying a duffel bag from the next chamber over. It may have been mere seconds or several minutes. Ishraq had no way to tell. His perception of time was becoming less certain when he was in his owner’s presence. He placed it on the ground, pulled out a rolled-up cloth bundle, and unfurled it on the floor far enough away from the papers and paint and piss that it wouldn’t get wet. Inside was a fastidiously arranged collection of whips, canes, flogs, paddles, and other striking implements. Though they ranged from simple and functional to ornately detailed, they all were noticeably finely crafted and had been selected with a discerning eye.

Fabien approached his levers once more and adjusted the chains, looping them in a different orientation than before and cranking them tight again. When he was finished, Ishraq was left standing but bent at the waist: his rump prominently presented. The ursine’s arms stretched in opposite directions and he could scarcely adjust his stance. The bat clicked the remote control again and the view of the looping sequence on the screen changed to a live feed of the room that they were in. An icon indicating that it was actively recording appeared in the top corner.

The crime lord selected a cane and smacked it against his palm several times, letting the sharp thwack! echo throughout the room. He didn’t even wince at the sharp pain that must’ve blossomed across his paw. Instead, he smirked. He sauntered behind his plaything and pressed the cane firmly against his rump. Its supple haft curved under the pressure. Laurent pulled it away and waited. He paused just long enough for the fretful Ishraq to glance over his shoulder and see it whistling toward him.

He brought the implement back in hard and fast. The ursine heard it connect with his backside before he felt its cruel sting. His fur did little to cushion the blow and he felt the searing heat in a thin line where he was struck. He sucked in his breath through his teeth and shuddered involuntarily.

The sun bear was suddenly at war with himself again. This absolute display of dominance was something he had always yearned for from a partner, and that need made itself known. He felt his erection fight a failing battle for freedom. The bat didn’t wait for him to process any further. He laid in with a rapid series of strikes. Each flared with white-hot pain before settling into a tingling numbness. Ishraq had been beaten multiple times now, but his owner was starting harsher than he had ever been treated before. As he continued the spanking, he continued to steadily ramp up the severity, pushing the chocolate brown fur further than he had ever gone before. His eyes began to well with tears almost immediately and he huffed and snarled rather than crying.

Eventually he gave in and openly whimpered from the pain, stopping just shy of breaking down into a sobbing mess and pleading for mercy. The attacks didn’t stop at only his ass. When he grew bored with the cane, the mobster used a crop, and applied the same treatment to the backs of his thighs. The megabat had worked up a sweat. His pheromones filled the air. His scent was intoxicating and arousing, carrying with it his air of his authority. Through the erotic pleasure of his suffering, the younger fur couldn’t quite shake the feeling that Laurent was still pulling his blows. It was like he was intuiting where Ishraq’s limits lay, and he moved right up to that line. Nudging it, but not crossing over. Where his cronies and goons simply did only as they pleased, it felt as if the bat had some sort of consideration for his servant. On some base level he recognized that Ishraq enjoyed the treatment he was receiving, if not the circumstances why, and was considerate of that fact.

“This is a punishment,” the bat said, his chest heaving from raining down strike after strike. “And yet despite your yowls you are enjoying this.” He glared down at the sniveling bear, who leaked a veritable river of pre to the floor. “Luckily, I know just to ensure that you learn to never disobey me again.”

Fabien pressed the flat of his crop firmly against the ursine’s hefty sac. His balls were full and heavy from a week of persistent arousal without relief. Ishraq whimpered and bit his bottom lip as he felt his Master lift the weight of his orbs on the end of the weapon. The ring of his chastity cage caused his sac to press his testicles outward from his body, revealing their shape through his fur and making them enticing targets.

“There is that fear. Perhaps you will respect me properly after this.”

He swiftly slapped the bear’s scrotum, causing Ishraq to yelp and thrash pitifully against his bindings. The pain shot up through his gut. He could tell the attack was nowhere near the force he had been subjected to so far, but powerful nonetheless. He trembled, but managed not to break on the first impact.

Fabien was a proper Dom. He could tell just how hard he could go and used that recognition to center Ishraq on the blurred line between a submissive sex partner and a piece of property to abuse and discard. He was harsh, but not completely unfeeling. His shaft throbbed. When he savored the reverberations his tools sent up his arm as they connected, he was fulfilling a need of his own. There was a sexually aggressive magma simmering beneath his frozen shell that surfaced when he was in his element. He continued harder and faster, until at last the ursine’s grunts transitioned fully into yelps and sniffling.

The bat proceeded to smack his plaything’s nuts several more times, pausing just long enough between each hit for Ishraq to flinch and tense and dread the strike to come. Unlike his backside, which would eventually numb as he grew accustomed to the spanking- at least until the following day when he tried to sit for the first time- his balls felt the full force of each connection. The experience was made all the worse by the slapping sound that accompanied each blow. His vision blurred from the pain and he found himself involuntarily growling between howls of agony.

The criminal began alternating between the sun bear’s ass and his testicles, occasionally switching speed, or power, or instrument. Paddles of steel and wood bruised Ishraq’s backside. Flogs and whips stung his back, thighs, and hips. The slave fully lost track of time as everything seemed to spiral together in an erotic haze. Eventually, he panted, spent and weak, no longer capable of struggling or resisting. His throat was dry from whining and moaning through the suffering, and he could barely do more than exhale unevenly. Still, his body betrayed him. As much as he wanted to hate Laurent for the treatment his locked nub was clearly swollen, with the ebony tip forever trying to escape his sheath only to be halted by the steel bars of his cock cage. The device felt heavier than ever, with the lock attached to it weighing down his junk like an anchor.

“It is time for a break,” the fruit bat stated, rolling his shoulders. His webbed wings splayed out as he did. “You are thirsty?” He stated more than questioned. 

Unable to find his voice, Ishraq nodded feebly. If there was going to be a punishment for not verbally responding to his Master, he would experience it. He was too weak to resist anymore, let alone speak coherently. Only the chains and cuffs were keeping him from collapsing entirely.

His owner retrieved a wide, shallow fruit bowl crafted of clear glass from an end table and unceremoniously emptied its contents on the floor before approaching. He placed it beneath the bear’s leaking trail of pre. The dribble created a tiny puddle in the bottom.

“Release your bladder,” he was ordered.

Knowing what was coming soon, Ishraq skewed his face and forced himself to pee. It was awkward to do so in such a position, but he managed. It was a thin dribble at first, but his full stream of piss soon sploshed into the vessel. The bowl rapidly filled with his urine and his flow  tapered to a stop just as the pale yellow liquid reached the rim. The bat gently slid the bowl in front of his captive’s face with a toe claw. The bear stared down into the bowl of his own piss and pre.

“Lap it up,” Fabien commanded. “Every last drop.”

Knowing there was no other choice, Ishraq extended his long tongue. It was different, drinking his own urine. He had grown accustomed to being used as a urinal by the denizens of the mansion, but it was different when it was not coming straight from the tap. By the time the tip of his tongue dipped into the pool of piss it had already cooled somewhat, which seemed to amplify its sharp flavor. He struggled to get much in his mouth at once and it took several long minutes from the bowl to be nearly empty. Wetness streaked his muzzle, and the scent of his own mark was left on his snout. He looked silently to his owner to indicate that he had finished.

“You may wish to brace yourself.”

Without explanation, Laurent returned to the levers and gave each a kick in rapid succession. The clinking of chain links rattled throughout the room as Ishraq suddenly felt himself being ripped straight upward until he jolted to a stop a few dozen feet off of the floor. His unexpected ascent made his stomach lurch and his heart jump into his throat. The fruit bat repeated his earlier action of scurrying up a pillar, only to drop off of it into a glide and proceeded to flap up toward him, perching under a bar only a foot or so from him. Fabien disconnected the bear’s wrist cuffs from the chains and he swung forward and down until he hung by only his ankles. He gasped in terror at the brief drop and felt dizzy as he saw the marble floor a couple of stories below his swaying form. Blood rushed to his head, intensifying his terror. His host gripped his wrists and guided his paws behind his back where he swiftly clipped them together, effectively binding him once more.

His swinging slowed to a stop and he was left dangling in midair, heart thundering. Heights had never been his friend. If he had felt helpless and at the crime lord’s mercy before, he was utterly defenseless now.  The fear and adrenaline only sharpened his awareness. 

The bat hung behind him and just off to the side. Ishraq could feel the heat emanating from him. He could smell the arousal wafting from him, potent and heady. His turgid length pressed against the bear’s thigh, streaking smears of pre into his fur. The mobster craned his neck over, or rather under, the ursine’s shoulder and nestled his chin near the hollow of his throat. The ursine had no reason to trust Laurent, but somehow he found himself comforted by the act. His Master produced a bottle of lubricant, but when he had procured it and from where the sun bear couldn’t say.

Fabien drizzled a healthy amount into his palm and liberally coated his talons before rapidly stroking a glistening sheen across his pulsing erection. He tossed the bottle carelessly away. Even though it couldn’t have taken the bottle more than a second to hit the floor, it felt like an eternity before Ishraq heard it bounce against the marble, a sound that echoed in the underfurnished room. The winged fur slid his fingers slowly down the ursine’s cleft and prodded to find his aperture. The slick, wet feeling on his abused rump and well-used hole made the bear shiver. There was something immensely arousing about the thought of the bat holding him up there against his will and fucking him in such a fashion. One of his owner’s digits slipped inside of him. It wriggled past the sweet spot inside of his tight heat. Ishraq squirmed and Laurent placed more pressure on it, beckoning against it and making his servant writhe with desire. He smiled impishly when he slipped in a second finger beside the first and scissored them apart. He was surprisingly considerate and purposeful in how he stretched his partner.

Ishraq gathered from experience at the manor that he would not be so gentle when he started fucking. Fabien liked to demonstrate his power and dominance in a feral and brutal fashion. If it weren’t for the fact that he had seen the megabat devour nothing other than fruit and wine, he would’ve expected to be bitten. The lead up, however, could be described as sensual to an almost ritualistic degree, as if his employer enjoyed exploring a second body that belonged fully to him and discovering its nuances. Fabien rotated his wrist and let his spindly fingers speak for themselves as they plunged in deep and twisted around one another.

When he finally withdrew his paw from Ishraq’s prepared hole, the bear felt empty. He was being overtaken by his own unsatiated lust. Whether it was his chastity pushing him to the brink and needing sex, or the mobster’s inherent magnetism and confidence, he was wet clay in the criminal’s paws, and Laurent was all too happy to shape him into the perfect pet.

Fabien’s claws dug into his hip on either side as he lined his pointed length up with the bear’s entrance. He found his mark and tensed his hips, breathing a hot puff across the ursine’s nape just before he speared the sun bear on his rod. He pushed in hard and quick. Ishraq arched his back and groaned as he was penetrated. The hot shaft thrust in deep. Fabien nearly buried his full seven-and-a-half inches into his slave in a single go, letting his tapered hardness pry him further open.

“I own you now. You are mine to do with as I please, when I please. Hopefully I have made this clear to you.”

The bear felt flush from the heat of their passion, the exhaustion of his beating, and the vertigo from dangling helplessly upside-down. The dusky-furred anthro behind him withdrew halfway and forced himself in again, hilting him to the base. Their movement caused them to sway in tandem. The lack of mobility and the precarious position of swinging to and fro above marble as he was fucked caused a unique blend of euphoria, fear, and shame to bloom in the servant’s mind. The rush of the pheromones and endorphins practically made him drunk with wanton lust. He lost track of everything but the sensations he felt. He could no longer tell up from down. Only whimpers and moans escaped his muzzle, which he distantly heard the involuntary clicks and squeaks from his Master.

The criminal started thrusting in a long, slow rhythm- graceful and powerful in equal measure. Each buck of his owner’s hips caused him to quake with need. His own maleness ached. He desired nothing more than a release. The slow, powerful thrusts transitioned to a steady piston of the bat’s hips, driving repeatedly into his toy. Ishraq tried to relax his body but found himself clamping down around the rod within him. The tightening of his ring drove Fabien into a mating frenzy. His pace was lost and he began wildly bucking away. After a time the servant felt his Master bury himself fully within him, and jerk his hips to ensure that every last bit of his flesh was engulfed in the bear’s ass. It thrummed with heat and power. 
Despite all of their attempts, all of their forays into kink, all of Ishraq’s guidence and insistance and effort...he could never get Simon to make him feel this way during sex. The primal authority that Laurent exuded was intoxicating. The bat’s massive ears folded back, giving his face a spear-like quality as he savagely bared his fangs. He was clearly reveling in the sex-drunk fugue he had driven his property to. He increased his tempo and roughness, ignoring any pain brought on by a lack of consideration for his slave’s recently assaulted ass and testicles; the torment only caused more deliciously needy whimpers.

Laurent regained some of his senses and pressed tighter against his plaything. He proceeded to thrust in short, wild jabs. They moaned in unison as the bat’s muzzle poked over his shoulder and hooked down over his collarbone again to steady himself as he drew close near his climax. He grunted in time with his breathing, before finally burying himself in Ishraq as he hit orgasm, groaning in satisfaction and closing his eyes.

The fruit bat emptied his seed into the sun bear. His spunk splattered hotly within the ursine, filling him quickly enough that a bit of his essence squished out around the flying mammal’s spent length. Ishraq instinctively squeezed down further around the member, not wanting it to leave his hole, but in his post orgasmic haze, the bat did not let go. If anything he subtly burrowed into the bear’s pelt, melting against him, as if he were jealously guarding a treasure in his horde from interlopers. Gravity caused the bat’s cum drip deep into the slave and he felt its warmth flood into him.

There was a silence broken only by heavy breathing until Fabien spoke at last.

“Rest for a moment. I will have you return to your rooms shortly. But first, let me ask you: Do you really think those paintings were beautiful, even knowing that they are made by one who will do these cruel things to you?”

Ishraq stared quietly ahead for a moment. The room was dark now with only starlight filtering into the room. It was no surprise that his Master seemed alert, rather than sleepy, while he was exhausted. The bat’s softening maleness had yet to fully slip from his hole and the servant tried to collect his wits amidst the swaying chaos of his position and his lust addled state. What little he could see of his host’s face was an expressionless mask again. He didn’t know if the mobster was testing him. Needling him for any excuse to put him through more trials later. Or if Laurent, his aggression exerted and his malice gratified, was genuinely curious.
 
“Yes,” Ishraq answered truthfully, his voice a husky rasp.

The bat didn’t respond for a long while. When he did, he uttered only one word, though his voice seemed distant and subtly sad.

“Silence.”

He wrapped the bear in his massive wings, shrouding him in complete darkness.