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In hindsight, it might be unproductive for a slut like him.\n\nA commission for [url=https://www.furaffinity.net/user/bepisfox/]BepisFox[/url] featuring his OCs Raiden and Ramses. You can find more stories like this and more over on my [URL=https://www.patreon.com/c/Ralanrwrites]Patreon[/url] and/or [url=https://subscribestar.adult/ralanr]Subscribestar[/url]. Your support is appreciated. \n\nEnjoy!", "description_bbcode_parsed": "Raiden's about to learn what happens to whores who get two-star reviews. In hindsight, it might be unproductive for a slut like him.

A commission for BepisFox featuring his OCs Raiden and Ramses. You can find more stories like this and more over on my Patreon and/or Subscribestar. Your support is appreciated.

Enjoy!", "writing": "“S-sir, please, there’s been a misunderstanding!” \n\n\nRaiden’s pleas did little to soften the electrical sting of his collar, nor the taut tug from the hyena pulling him along. He clasped his hands in prayer for mercy, gritting through the pain as he followed two steps behind. “Please, listen. He said he was going to leave a bad review no matter what I did. I tried, really! But he was dead set on it.”\n\n\nThe remnants of Raiden’s attempts were still dripping off his face. His handler grabbed him as soon as his client left, dragging the cum splattered jackal by collar and leash from the nightclub to the sublevels. The music faded out two floors ago, and the streaming lights were replaced by the stable hue of pink neon. \n\n\nNo slave liked the sublevels. The upper floors had rules and expectations of care for the merchandise. The higher one went up, the more expensive the whores were. Those with the right price tags got the autonomy to pick and choose clients. It made enough customers see the place as high class if a little snooty.\n\n\nThe sublevels were debauchery unrestrained. There a customer could spend a pretty amount of duroyen to do whatever they wanted without worrying about what happened. No blood was spilled, that rule stayed true, but simply surviving wasn’t enough to keep his fur from standing on end when Taylor dragged him down there. Only the lost causes were sent below.\n\n\nWere it not for his conditioning Raiden would have clutched the hyena’s jacket as he begged. “I did everything he asked. You can’t–” A shock erupted from his collar, intensifying in his latex top, sleeves, leggings, and chastity cage. The stud’s fist clenched around his throat to keep the jackal standing. \n\n\n“Quiet,” He growled, cutting off Raiden’s breath for seconds. The jackal nodded, ignoring the urge to massage his throat as he trudged behind to his doom. They descended through screams of pleasure and pain. Eventually, they too faded, leaving an eerie silence that left Raiden’s mind free to panic. \n\n\nThe final door required a bioscan that matched Taylor’s eyes. With a hydraulic hiss, it opened, flooding Raiden’s nose with the scent of latex. The glossy black material covered almost every bit of furniture, leaving only chains and X-frames free of it. \n\n\nThe maglocks in Raiden’s cuffs whirred to life in the room’s center, locking overhead. The cuffs on his legs kept them apart, leaving the femmy jackal exposed to whoever entered. Taylor clenched his mouth to force it open, spitting into the open maw with sadistic contempt. “Fucking freak.” He muttered, carefully avoiding the small drops of pre-cum making up the trail Raiden left behind. The door hissed shut, leaving him alone in darkness. \n\n\nIt wasn’t fair. He’d done everything asked of him since his purchase. His fists clenched at the image of his client’s smug face. He could be off fucking another femboy without care while Raiden suffered in the sublevels at the mercy of whatever sadist rented out this dungeon. \n\n\nIt should have been terrifying. In some small way, Raiden felt the terror. But his heart didn’t race from fear, nor did his cage feel all the tighter from horror. Training, conditioning, and augmentation took its toll. In just a minute of waiting the curvy femboy jackal’s body burned with need for whomever would come for him.\n\n\nNo one needed to. His ‘client’ was waiting for him. He first noticed it by the squeak of latex shifting behind him, followed by the scratch of a match against a matchbox. Raiden stood stiff as the mystery man watched, fighting the urge to twist around and beg for mercy with a blush stricken face. \n\n\n“Your first client,” The all too familiar voice spoke with a mix of irritation, frustration, and disappointment. Every word was a pummeling against his chest, squeezing Raiden’s heart. “Two stars.”\n\n\nWere it anyone else, Raiden would have spoken up with his explanation. He knew better with Ramses. The owner of both him and the club strode from the shadows behind with a lit cigar hanging by his teeth. Like Raiden the jackal’s black fur was accented by natural gold stripes adorning his body, even coating his nipples and cock from the base up in the color like a divine being. But that was where the similarities ended, for whereas Raiden was a curvy femboy with a huge thiccbum, Ramses’s pecs stood eye level with the bitchboy. He found it ironic how similar they were to a glance. One could mistake them for siblings. That might have been why Ramses had a preferred honorific from his lookalike bitch.\n\n\n “D-Daddy…” Raiden gulped, fear slipping through the cracks of his discipline. \n\n\nA huff of smoke blanketed the jackal’s face. Heterochromic eyes, one orange the other violet, stared him down. He opened his maw when his master clasped his head, suppressing the urge to vomit as the cigar ashes fell over his tongue like poisonous snow. \n\n\n“Two stars,” Ramses repeated, his voice like ice. “Do I look like the guy who has two-star whores in his employ?”\n\n\n“N-No, sir,” Raiden said. He tried to shake his head but found his master’s hold like stone. \n\n\n“Then why am I looking at one?”\n\n\nAfter a long silence where his heartbeat thumped his body, Raiden realized the question wasn’t rhetorical. “He…” the jackal gulped, “He demanded a discount for a good review.”\n\n\nThe truth was complicated. The client did say he’d leave a bad review in the beginning if Raiden didn’t do everything asked of him. He also said, midway through the jackal choking on his cock, that if he wasn’t offered a discount the review would be ‘radioactive’ as he put it. He figured that his owner would be more lenient on him if he knew about the cheapskate’s intentions rather than paint it as a failure to please. \n\n\nThe big jackal’s face did not soften. He chewed his cigar with a methodical slowness, deep in thought despite the lock his eyes had on Raiden. “Is that it?” \n\n\nHe went limp in his grasp. Raiden's responses sputtered into an incoherent babble of ums and stutters. Ramses’s hold tightened. He pulled Raiden close enough to see gold glisten from the cigar’s light. “He left a bad review because you wouldn’t give him a discount? Do you know how many clients try to pull off that shit?” Ramses moved Raiden’s head to a shake when he was too afraid to answer. “Too many. You know how many actually leave shitty reviews? One.”\n\n\nHands strong enough to snap his wrist locked around the jackal’s neck. “Do you have any idea what kind of product I supply? How many faggots I train to make customers feel they got five-star treatment? You need to suck cock like you’re sucking out his soul, take dick like a damn succubus tempting a priest. Any failing represents poorly on me. And you, you, can not make me look bad.”\n\n\nWhether it be from fear or something snapping in his head, Raiden chuckled under the strain. “H-Harder,” he gasped. Ramses blinked but didn’t let go. He inched closer, putting his ear up to the femme jackal’s gaping maw. \n\n\n“Is…Is that…all…” Common sense screamed for him to be silent but his mouth wouldn’t listen. “...you got?”\n\n\nHis stomach buckled to an iron-hard fist. If he’d eaten anything recently, Raiden would have left it on the floor when Ramses let go. He witnessed the jackal’s expression go from confusion to blush, then cold fury in the span of a minute from his peripheral vision. Then his master turned to the wall, leaving the femboy hanging. \n\n\n“Do you know what they told me when you were on sale?” His master’s finger trailed across the wall, flicking different tools of torment. Raiden’s fur shivered at the scream of a holed paddle swatting through the air. “They said there was a remarkable resemblance.”\n\n\nSpikes of pain exploded across his ass. Raiden tensed, gritting his teeth. Months of conditioning made little difference in reducing his master’s paddle. “T-Thank you, Daddy,” he said with a deep breath and gusto, “May I have another?”\n\n\nRamses smacked him again, and Raiden requested another as he’d been trained to do. Unless told the number he was to ask and encourage clients to do what they pleased when punishing him, no matter how much he hated it. After a little genetic tinkering, he didn’t hate it as much as he knew he should. Instinct vs thought.\n\n\nHis master prattled on between strikes, “I’ve got plenty of enemies. From street gangs whose turf I took to CEO’s and politicians that I have terabytes of blackmail on. I’m played in the great game enough that I’m untouchable to most and a nuclear option to those who can. So, naturally, some would want to work off a little stress on a lookalike. I didn’t give it credence until I saw your bid skyrocket. I couldn’t let that happen. If anyone is going to fuck me, lookalike or otherwise, it’ll be on my terms.”\n\n\nHe remembered the early days of his purchase. He’d been relieved since his debtors were determined to get their money back whether or not the jackal lived through it. But the degrading training, at least initially, made him regret that. There was a brief moment after the purchase where he thought his ownership would be more personal. While that reality had been dashed, Ramses certainly punished him like it. \n\n\nWood clapped his bubbly cheeks like thunder. The latex of his top shifted on Ramse’s command, forming a muzzle to keep his bitch’s growing cries silent. It had the added side-effect of hiding his moans. Crossed wires, drug use, and conditioning made the pain a strange sensation. The first few strikes stung like hell and watered his eyes so Raiden tried to struggle away, only earning his master’s ire. Then there came a tingle. A painful, electrifying, shiver that shivered up his body with every hit.\n\n\nIt started slow. Like a wound one prodded despite everyone saying not to. It increased the risk of infection and it ultimately hurt, but there was something about that pain and curiosity that resonated. A sick sense of pleasure in the anguish. By the time Ramses paused to take a breath, Raiden’s muzzle was soaked in wet pants while his locked cock drooled a steady stream of pre-cum between his legs. Without the paddle strike to shake it around the liquid pooled onto the floor. \n\n\n“What is it?” Ramses answered his implanted commlink. Tossing the paddle aside the jackal strode his naked body around his living property, his golden cock flopping with the girth of an elephant’s trunk. \n\n\nHis muzzle deformed with a snap. Two thick fingers plunged into his mouth before Raiden could speak his gratitude. “You found him? Ok, why are you calling me?” He focused on the conversation more than the jackal holding his digits in his throat. Raiden’s electric thrill of his master’s causal use of him made the jackal forget to breathe through his nostrils. He earned a slap for this when he made too much noise. \n\n\n“There’s a pattern?” Ramses’s voice dropped. His fingers curled inside Raiden’s throat like hooks. “You’re telling me he’s done this shit before and we didn’t notice it? Why? I don’t care if he’s hiding his trail in other places, I wanna know why we didn’t catch on earlier. I want whoever’s responsible in my office tomorrow. Put me on speaker.” \n\n\nDragged to his knees, Raiden gasped for air only to get a meaty dose of cock shoved into his maw. Inch after inch sank past his lips, the thick rod spreading his jaw painfully wide. Masochistic glee set his tail into a blur. \n\n\n“Hey, fuckface,” Raiden raised his voice. Raiden’s ears perked. Were it not for his master’s dick he’d have a small smile crawl over his face as he imagined his last client shaking in terror. “The faggot you fucked told me you demanded a discount else you’d leave a bad review. All my sluts have my personal touch, so if there’s a bad review on them then there’s a bad review on me. I don’t get bad reviews. I’m sure you see your mistake by now.”\n\n\nRamses used his mouth without concern. They trained Raiden’s throat for it. If need be he could be someone’s cocksocket for hours. Hours of torment, but hours all the same. \n\n\nHis arms fell freely as his master’s thrusts sped up. Thick heavy balls battered his chin. Precum mixed with saliva that pooled on the floor. He fondled his sack and slipped a finger down his cheeks. The itch grew stronger. The need skyrocketed. \n\n\nThere was a back and forth on Ramses’s call that Raiden lost amid his heat. “But I’m a merciful man, so I’m going to give you two choices.” He hilted into Raiden, holding steady while he spoke words dipped in sadistic venom. “Either do what you’re told to for the rest of your life, or I’ll mod that chip in your brain so you’ll never think again. Ten. Nine.” He pulled out his full shaft with one word and slammed it down the next. Raiden felt his body sink into the ground at every interval. “Eight. Seven. Six.”\n\n\nHe stopped, holding Raiden’s maw still for half a minute. Ramses smiled. “Good choice. It’ll take some time and effort to get you to our standards, but you’ll have plenty of time to work off your debt.”\n\n\nWith a flick of his wrist, the call ended. Ramses peered down, brow raised at the lustful eyes staring back at him. “Oh, shit. You’re actually enjoying this.” He slowly withdrew so Raiden could savor his master’s cock. It exited with a pop and a cacophony of heavy gasps. Raiden’s pleas for more were interrupted by a heavy cock slapping his face.\n\n\n“You know, most fags I train have some level of resentment. They’ll do whatever you tell them but, if you know where to look, you can find that hidden hatred in their eyes. I don’t see that with you.” \n\n\nThe cock batted him again and again, hitting each cheek with a wet slap. Raiden lapped for it like a feral hound offered a treat. Ramses smiled. “But you, you love this. That sniveling bratty bitch act when I bought you? That was the mask, wasn’t it?”\n\n\nRaiden didn’t see himself nodding but Ramses laughed like he did. “Normally that’d piss me off. There’s no fun in punishing a masochist. All you can really do is deny them and they eventually love it. But you…I think your talents are wasted on the floor.”\n\n\nEven as broken as he was, Raiden knew Ramses was excusing himself. He didn’t care when the muscle-bound jackal dragged him to the bed by his headfur. Thick hands kneaded his bubble butt like dough, possessively digging his claws in like hooks. \n\n\n“So wasteful.” Ramses leaned down, lost in thought. Next thing Raiden knew he was biting his lips as a warm, if inexperienced tongue, slipped into his backdoor. Assholes were for fucking, not kissing or sucking, so his master’s strange tenderness caught him off-guard. The harsh slap across the cheeks eased him back in. \n\n\n“Who’s ass is this?” Ramses growled, clamping down on the full cheek.\n\n\n“Yours, sir,” Raiden said, biting his lips. \n\n\nRamses clapped his plaything’s posterior. “Who’s ass is this?”\n\n\n“Daddy’s ass!” \n\n\nRamses continued asking, clapping his heavy palm on the jiggling flesh each time. Raiden responded with glee, endorphins flooding his body as bruises formed underneath his fur. \n\n\nThe jackal’s fat cock pushed Raiden’s hips into the bed. No amount of lube and stretching reduced the strain of sinking that first inch past the rim. Raiden gnawed at the bedsheets. “More,” he thought, “Just a little more.”\n\n\nNothing stopped Ramses. What little Raiden knew of his master told the femmy Jackal that resistance, willing or not, would crumble. So when his golden cock sank in, he did not stop. He did not slow. He buried his member deep into his slut like a fleshlight. \n\n\nParalyzed by the sudden surge, Raiden shivered with his master’s warm breath bracing his neck. “What do good little faggots say when I fill them?”\n\n\nRaiden craned his neck. Ramses forced the jackal’s head down. “Did I say look up at me? Or did I ask you a fucking question, whore?”\n\n\n“A-A question, sir.” Raiden’s heart skipped. His chest burned as the rod throbbed inside him.\n\n\n“If I need to repeat myself, you’re going to regret it. Do I need to repeat myself?”\n\n\n“No…no, Daddy,” Raiden said, barely giving breath to his voice. “T-Thank you, Daddy.” \n\n\n“Thank you for?” \n\n\nHe gulped. “Thank you for filling this faggot.” \n\n\nA primal and possessive growl emanated from Ramses' gut. He held Raiden’s maw shut. Slowly, more for his sake than the slut’s, Ramses pulled back and sank in. Raiden wanted it harder, faster, but held his groan. Ramses wanted to use him, so Ramses got to decide how. \n\n\nTeeth pressed at his shoulder. Ramses sped up. The fangs tug in. His master slammed harder. Raiden’s moans broke free like a prey’s final cry before the predator snuffed it out. Ramses ignored him, filling the room with his guttural grunts and the wet slapping sound of his thick rod skewering his femmy doppelganger. \n\n\nHe hoisted Raiden up. The bitchboy found himself riding Ramses like a mechanical bull bucking a drunkard, only the bull refused to let go. The metal of his cage clacked rhythmically to the pistoning. Raiden threw his head back to notice the entire ceiling was a mirror, one Ramses watched with narcissistic infatuation. \n\n\nSomething clicked and the walls shifted into mirrors. Raiden lost his focus on the coming surge. “I’m close. Fuck, fuck, I’m close.”\n\n\n“I don’t care,” Ramses hissed. “We stop when I decide. Be thank–” Raiden’s sudden pitched cry cut him off. Cum shots broke into a mussy sputter through his cage bars. His master didn’t stop, sending white droplets of seed out with every bouncing thrust. \n\n\nThey were like water droplets to an overclocked engine. \n\n\nRamses growled. He bucked Raiden off only to catch him midair and slam him against one of the mirrors. The jackal’s cry of pain fell aside to the gasp of his master’s cock pistoning into his ravaged hole. Teeth dug into his shoulder, claws ripped into his skin to hold on. \n\n\nEuphoric pain filled him like his master’s seed. Ramses didn’t stop. What remained of the dark dominant was a wild beast that licked his prey’s wounds with sadistic glee. Another shot filled him, followed by a third and fourth. Raiden’s haze made whatever came after four a mystery. He didn’t realize his head had been buried into the bed until he struggled to breathe into the covers. \n\n\nBy the end of it Raiden felt three pounds heavier. Seed sloshed around his bloated gut like water. His poor caged cock pooled a stream of precum, its sensitive head unable to shy away from the bars. \n\n\nRamses said nothing for a long while. He offered no water or gentle nuzzling a normal person might need. He simply cut open a new cigar, sucking in the taste as the curvy cum-filled jackal doppelganger mumbled on about needing more. \n\n\n“Fuckin’ waste.”\n\n\n\n\n***\n\n\n\n\n“You’re late on my cut,” Ramses's terse tone sent goosebumps across Raiden’s skin. He’d been on calls all morning, each chipping away at the brittle mask of politeness the big jackal put up when dealing with people. He brought out his true face with the drags and the sluts to keep them in line. But tyrants lasted as long as people were afraid, so Ramses pretended to be considerate to anyone who mattered. \n\n\nHe slammed the table. It had limits. \n\n\n“That’s not an explanation, that’s an excuse. Either you pay me cold hard credits, or you deliver me a truckload of fags and fairies I can use as compensation. I’m–” He shuddered, pausing at the tact of Raiden’s tongue easing his tension. \n\n\nRamses leaned back into his chair, took a deep breath, and spoke in a tone that told Raiden he was doing a good job without addressing him. “Look, I’m not gonna sugarcoat it. You fucked up. Bad. But I’m not Gregor. I’m not going to sell anyone you care about into debt and put your head on a pike. We all know how that turned out for him. No, instead I’m going to send you some help. I’ll have Taylor contact my guys on the force, they’ll deal with these dumbfucks who took the shipment, and you’ll help him get the goods from the station. We cool? Good.”\n\n\n“Taylor,” Ramses opened a new channel right after closing the last. “I need you to get rid of Collin. This is the last fuck up I’ll accept. Plant something on him that’ll bury him in lockup.”\n\n\nRamses’s cock popped out of Raiden’s maw by the call’s end. The jackal licked his lips, drowning in the aftertaste of his master’s member. His jaw ached from hours of holding it, but it was worth it so long as his master deemed it so. \n\n\nIt’d been three months since his first, and only, fuck up. Raiden had been kicked up the chain to being the owner’s personal pet. Clients could still rent him out, but only the most affluent could afford it. That price tag made Raiden an excellent one-night gift for anyone making a deal with his master. And the ones that could afford it got their money’s worth. Ramses spent a month ensuring that. \n\n\nThe bigger jackal kicked out from the desk, muttering to himself on the asinine fools his syndicate employed. Raiden crawled out after him. His master’s office was bedecked in mirrors of himself, from busts, statues, and paintings, to literal mirrors at the corner and behind his desk. Anyone receiving a talking down from Ramses could see Raiden worshiping his cock from reflection. Stupid people who implied a more incestuous relationship tended to share the spot, albeit harshly. \n\n\nA golden ankh symbol decorated the black rug floor, matching what was printed on Ramses’s back and tongue. Raiden’s tongue curled every time he saw it, feeling the same subtle marking on his tongue. \n\n\nRamses downed a shot of scotch. “Fucking amateurs,” he poured himself another shot. “What do I need to do to keep these guys on point?”\n\n\nRaiden knew better than to speak. He still did, craving reprimand. “Do you have to frame him?”\n\n\nThe muscular jackal looked at his curvy cockholster dead straight. “The fuck did you say?”\n\n\nThat rush of anger sparked a playful defiance in Radien’s grin, “I mean, what’s better, Daddy? Letting him fester in a cell somewhere, where no one will know him or have him demoted to a whore? I know how much your handlers look down on us. I can think of no better punishment than becoming like me.” \n\n\nThe only reason Ramses hadn’t started strangling Raiden was because he’d know the jackal loved it. That and, from experience, it wasn’t the first time Raiden convinced his master of anything. Not that either were willing to admit it. \n\n\n“Yeah…” Ramses stroked his chin. Taking a seat, he Raiden over to press his foot against the effeminate Jackal’s skull, “Plenty of guys who work with him find him annoying enough as is, but framing him would be a waste. Why not just make him a stress toy? He’s got a pretty good ass as is.” \n\n\n“As good as mine?” Raiden grinned. \n\n\n“Keep fishing.” Ramses downed his third shot. After some assisted thinking with Raiden’s oral skills, the jackal called his handler to change the punishment. Taylor sounded happier with the order by the tone of his grunt. His master stared at the half-drank bottle to his right when the call ended. \n\n\n“Actually, why don’t we test that?” He screwed the bottle shut, “Turn around and bend over.” Raiden put his head to the floor, raising his loose hole skyward at his master’s command. His skin crawled with joy at the next two words, “Good boy.\"", "writing_bbcode_parsed": "“S-sir, please, there’s been a misunderstanding!”


Raiden’s pleas did little to soften the electrical sting of his collar, nor the taut tug from the hyena pulling him along. He clasped his hands in prayer for mercy, gritting through the pain as he followed two steps behind. “Please, listen. He said he was going to leave a bad review no matter what I did. I tried, really! But he was dead set on it.”


The remnants of Raiden’s attempts were still dripping off his face. His handler grabbed him as soon as his client left, dragging the cum splattered jackal by collar and leash from the nightclub to the sublevels. The music faded out two floors ago, and the streaming lights were replaced by the stable hue of pink neon.


No slave liked the sublevels. The upper floors had rules and expectations of care for the merchandise. The higher one went up, the more expensive the whores were. Those with the right price tags got the autonomy to pick and choose clients. It made enough customers see the place as high class if a little snooty.


The sublevels were debauchery unrestrained. There a customer could spend a pretty amount of duroyen to do whatever they wanted without worrying about what happened. No blood was spilled, that rule stayed true, but simply surviving wasn’t enough to keep his fur from standing on end when Taylor dragged him down there. Only the lost causes were sent below.


Were it not for his conditioning Raiden would have clutched the hyena’s jacket as he begged. “I did everything he asked. You can’t–” A shock erupted from his collar, intensifying in his latex top, sleeves, leggings, and chastity cage. The stud’s fist clenched around his throat to keep the jackal standing.


“Quiet,” He growled, cutting off Raiden’s breath for seconds. The jackal nodded, ignoring the urge to massage his throat as he trudged behind to his doom. They descended through screams of pleasure and pain. Eventually, they too faded, leaving an eerie silence that left Raiden’s mind free to panic.


The final door required a bioscan that matched Taylor’s eyes. With a hydraulic hiss, it opened, flooding Raiden’s nose with the scent of latex. The glossy black material covered almost every bit of furniture, leaving only chains and X-frames free of it.


The maglocks in Raiden’s cuffs whirred to life in the room’s center, locking overhead. The cuffs on his legs kept them apart, leaving the femmy jackal exposed to whoever entered. Taylor clenched his mouth to force it open, spitting into the open maw with sadistic contempt. “Fucking freak.” He muttered, carefully avoiding the small drops of pre-cum making up the trail Raiden left behind. The door hissed shut, leaving him alone in darkness.


It wasn’t fair. He’d done everything asked of him since his purchase. His fists clenched at the image of his client’s smug face. He could be off fucking another femboy without care while Raiden suffered in the sublevels at the mercy of whatever sadist rented out this dungeon.


It should have been terrifying. In some small way, Raiden felt the terror. But his heart didn’t race from fear, nor did his cage feel all the tighter from horror. Training, conditioning, and augmentation took its toll. In just a minute of waiting the curvy femboy jackal’s body burned with need for whomever would come for him.


No one needed to. His ‘client’ was waiting for him. He first noticed it by the squeak of latex shifting behind him, followed by the scratch of a match against a matchbox. Raiden stood stiff as the mystery man watched, fighting the urge to twist around and beg for mercy with a blush stricken face.


“Your first client,” The all too familiar voice spoke with a mix of irritation, frustration, and disappointment. Every word was a pummeling against his chest, squeezing Raiden’s heart. “Two stars.”


Were it anyone else, Raiden would have spoken up with his explanation. He knew better with Ramses. The owner of both him and the club strode from the shadows behind with a lit cigar hanging by his teeth. Like Raiden the jackal’s black fur was accented by natural gold stripes adorning his body, even coating his nipples and cock from the base up in the color like a divine being. But that was where the similarities ended, for whereas Raiden was a curvy femboy with a huge thiccbum, Ramses’s pecs stood eye level with the bitchboy. He found it ironic how similar they were to a glance. One could mistake them for siblings. That might have been why Ramses had a preferred honorific from his lookalike bitch.


 “D-Daddy…” Raiden gulped, fear slipping through the cracks of his discipline.


A huff of smoke blanketed the jackal’s face. Heterochromic eyes, one orange the other violet, stared him down. He opened his maw when his master clasped his head, suppressing the urge to vomit as the cigar ashes fell over his tongue like poisonous snow.


“Two stars,” Ramses repeated, his voice like ice. “Do I look like the guy who has two-star whores in his employ?”


“N-No, sir,” Raiden said. He tried to shake his head but found his master’s hold like stone.


“Then why am I looking at one?”


After a long silence where his heartbeat thumped his body, Raiden realized the question wasn’t rhetorical. “He…” the jackal gulped, “He demanded a discount for a good review.”


The truth was complicated. The client did say he’d leave a bad review in the beginning if Raiden didn’t do everything asked of him. He also said, midway through the jackal choking on his cock, that if he wasn’t offered a discount the review would be ‘radioactive’ as he put it. He figured that his owner would be more lenient on him if he knew about the cheapskate’s intentions rather than paint it as a failure to please.


The big jackal’s face did not soften. He chewed his cigar with a methodical slowness, deep in thought despite the lock his eyes had on Raiden. “Is that it?”


He went limp in his grasp. Raiden's responses sputtered into an incoherent babble of ums and stutters. Ramses’s hold tightened. He pulled Raiden close enough to see gold glisten from the cigar’s light. “He left a bad review because you wouldn’t give him a discount? Do you know how many clients try to pull off that shit?” Ramses moved Raiden’s head to a shake when he was too afraid to answer. “Too many. You know how many actually leave shitty reviews? One.”


Hands strong enough to snap his wrist locked around the jackal’s neck. “Do you have any idea what kind of product I supply? How many faggots I train to make customers feel they got five-star treatment? You need to suck cock like you’re sucking out his soul, take dick like a damn succubus tempting a priest. Any failing represents poorly on me. And you, you, can not make me look bad.”


Whether it be from fear or something snapping in his head, Raiden chuckled under the strain. “H-Harder,” he gasped. Ramses blinked but didn’t let go. He inched closer, putting his ear up to the femme jackal’s gaping maw.


“Is…Is that…all…” Common sense screamed for him to be silent but his mouth wouldn’t listen. “...you got?”


His stomach buckled to an iron-hard fist. If he’d eaten anything recently, Raiden would have left it on the floor when Ramses let go. He witnessed the jackal’s expression go from confusion to blush, then cold fury in the span of a minute from his peripheral vision. Then his master turned to the wall, leaving the femboy hanging.


“Do you know what they told me when you were on sale?” His master’s finger trailed across the wall, flicking different tools of torment. Raiden’s fur shivered at the scream of a holed paddle swatting through the air. “They said there was a remarkable resemblance.”


Spikes of pain exploded across his ass. Raiden tensed, gritting his teeth. Months of conditioning made little difference in reducing his master’s paddle. “T-Thank you, Daddy,” he said with a deep breath and gusto, “May I have another?”


Ramses smacked him again, and Raiden requested another as he’d been trained to do. Unless told the number he was to ask and encourage clients to do what they pleased when punishing him, no matter how much he hated it. After a little genetic tinkering, he didn’t hate it as much as he knew he should. Instinct vs thought.


His master prattled on between strikes, “I’ve got plenty of enemies. From street gangs whose turf I took to CEO’s and politicians that I have terabytes of blackmail on. I’m played in the great game enough that I’m untouchable to most and a nuclear option to those who can. So, naturally, some would want to work off a little stress on a lookalike. I didn’t give it credence until I saw your bid skyrocket. I couldn’t let that happen. If anyone is going to fuck me, lookalike or otherwise, it’ll be on my terms.”


He remembered the early days of his purchase. He’d been relieved since his debtors were determined to get their money back whether or not the jackal lived through it. But the degrading training, at least initially, made him regret that. There was a brief moment after the purchase where he thought his ownership would be more personal. While that reality had been dashed, Ramses certainly punished him like it.


Wood clapped his bubbly cheeks like thunder. The latex of his top shifted on Ramse’s command, forming a muzzle to keep his bitch’s growing cries silent. It had the added side-effect of hiding his moans. Crossed wires, drug use, and conditioning made the pain a strange sensation. The first few strikes stung like hell and watered his eyes so Raiden tried to struggle away, only earning his master’s ire. Then there came a tingle. A painful, electrifying, shiver that shivered up his body with every hit.


It started slow. Like a wound one prodded despite everyone saying not to. It increased the risk of infection and it ultimately hurt, but there was something about that pain and curiosity that resonated. A sick sense of pleasure in the anguish. By the time Ramses paused to take a breath, Raiden’s muzzle was soaked in wet pants while his locked cock drooled a steady stream of pre-cum between his legs. Without the paddle strike to shake it around the liquid pooled onto the floor.


“What is it?” Ramses answered his implanted commlink. Tossing the paddle aside the jackal strode his naked body around his living property, his golden cock flopping with the girth of an elephant’s trunk.


His muzzle deformed with a snap. Two thick fingers plunged into his mouth before Raiden could speak his gratitude. “You found him? Ok, why are you calling me?” He focused on the conversation more than the jackal holding his digits in his throat. Raiden’s electric thrill of his master’s causal use of him made the jackal forget to breathe through his nostrils. He earned a slap for this when he made too much noise.


“There’s a pattern?” Ramses’s voice dropped. His fingers curled inside Raiden’s throat like hooks. “You’re telling me he’s done this shit before and we didn’t notice it? Why? I don’t care if he’s hiding his trail in other places, I wanna know why we didn’t catch on earlier. I want whoever’s responsible in my office tomorrow. Put me on speaker.”


Dragged to his knees, Raiden gasped for air only to get a meaty dose of cock shoved into his maw. Inch after inch sank past his lips, the thick rod spreading his jaw painfully wide. Masochistic glee set his tail into a blur.


“Hey, fuckface,” Raiden raised his voice. Raiden’s ears perked. Were it not for his master’s dick he’d have a small smile crawl over his face as he imagined his last client shaking in terror. “The faggot you fucked told me you demanded a discount else you’d leave a bad review. All my sluts have my personal touch, so if there’s a bad review on them then there’s a bad review on me. I don’t get bad reviews. I’m sure you see your mistake by now.”


Ramses used his mouth without concern. They trained Raiden’s throat for it. If need be he could be someone’s cocksocket for hours. Hours of torment, but hours all the same.


His arms fell freely as his master’s thrusts sped up. Thick heavy balls battered his chin. Precum mixed with saliva that pooled on the floor. He fondled his sack and slipped a finger down his cheeks. The itch grew stronger. The need skyrocketed.


There was a back and forth on Ramses’s call that Raiden lost amid his heat. “But I’m a merciful man, so I’m going to give you two choices.” He hilted into Raiden, holding steady while he spoke words dipped in sadistic venom. “Either do what you’re told to for the rest of your life, or I’ll mod that chip in your brain so you’ll never think again. Ten. Nine.” He pulled out his full shaft with one word and slammed it down the next. Raiden felt his body sink into the ground at every interval. “Eight. Seven. Six.”


He stopped, holding Raiden’s maw still for half a minute. Ramses smiled. “Good choice. It’ll take some time and effort to get you to our standards, but you’ll have plenty of time to work off your debt.”


With a flick of his wrist, the call ended. Ramses peered down, brow raised at the lustful eyes staring back at him. “Oh, shit. You’re actually enjoying this.” He slowly withdrew so Raiden could savor his master’s cock. It exited with a pop and a cacophony of heavy gasps. Raiden’s pleas for more were interrupted by a heavy cock slapping his face.


“You know, most fags I train have some level of resentment. They’ll do whatever you tell them but, if you know where to look, you can find that hidden hatred in their eyes. I don’t see that with you.”


The cock batted him again and again, hitting each cheek with a wet slap. Raiden lapped for it like a feral hound offered a treat. Ramses smiled. “But you, you love this. That sniveling bratty bitch act when I bought you? That was the mask, wasn’t it?”


Raiden didn’t see himself nodding but Ramses laughed like he did. “Normally that’d piss me off. There’s no fun in punishing a masochist. All you can really do is deny them and they eventually love it. But you…I think your talents are wasted on the floor.”


Even as broken as he was, Raiden knew Ramses was excusing himself. He didn’t care when the muscle-bound jackal dragged him to the bed by his headfur. Thick hands kneaded his bubble butt like dough, possessively digging his claws in like hooks.


“So wasteful.” Ramses leaned down, lost in thought. Next thing Raiden knew he was biting his lips as a warm, if inexperienced tongue, slipped into his backdoor. Assholes were for fucking, not kissing or sucking, so his master’s strange tenderness caught him off-guard. The harsh slap across the cheeks eased him back in.


“Who’s ass is this?” Ramses growled, clamping down on the full cheek.


“Yours, sir,” Raiden said, biting his lips.


Ramses clapped his plaything’s posterior. “Who’s ass is this?”


“Daddy’s ass!”


Ramses continued asking, clapping his heavy palm on the jiggling flesh each time. Raiden responded with glee, endorphins flooding his body as bruises formed underneath his fur.


The jackal’s fat cock pushed Raiden’s hips into the bed. No amount of lube and stretching reduced the strain of sinking that first inch past the rim. Raiden gnawed at the bedsheets. “More,” he thought, “Just a little more.”


Nothing stopped Ramses. What little Raiden knew of his master told the femmy Jackal that resistance, willing or not, would crumble. So when his golden cock sank in, he did not stop. He did not slow. He buried his member deep into his slut like a fleshlight.


Paralyzed by the sudden surge, Raiden shivered with his master’s warm breath bracing his neck. “What do good little faggots say when I fill them?”


Raiden craned his neck. Ramses forced the jackal’s head down. “Did I say look up at me? Or did I ask you a fucking question, whore?”


“A-A question, sir.” Raiden’s heart skipped. His chest burned as the rod throbbed inside him.


“If I need to repeat myself, you’re going to regret it. Do I need to repeat myself?”


“No…no, Daddy,” Raiden said, barely giving breath to his voice. “T-Thank you, Daddy.”


“Thank you for?”


He gulped. “Thank you for filling this faggot.”


A primal and possessive growl emanated from Ramses' gut. He held Raiden’s maw shut. Slowly, more for his sake than the slut’s, Ramses pulled back and sank in. Raiden wanted it harder, faster, but held his groan. Ramses wanted to use him, so Ramses got to decide how.


Teeth pressed at his shoulder. Ramses sped up. The fangs tug in. His master slammed harder. Raiden’s moans broke free like a prey’s final cry before the predator snuffed it out. Ramses ignored him, filling the room with his guttural grunts and the wet slapping sound of his thick rod skewering his femmy doppelganger.


He hoisted Raiden up. The bitchboy found himself riding Ramses like a mechanical bull bucking a drunkard, only the bull refused to let go. The metal of his cage clacked rhythmically to the pistoning. Raiden threw his head back to notice the entire ceiling was a mirror, one Ramses watched with narcissistic infatuation.


Something clicked and the walls shifted into mirrors. Raiden lost his focus on the coming surge. “I’m close. Fuck, fuck, I’m close.”


“I don’t care,” Ramses hissed. “We stop when I decide. Be thank–” Raiden’s sudden pitched cry cut him off. Cum shots broke into a mussy sputter through his cage bars. His master didn’t stop, sending white droplets of seed out with every bouncing thrust.


They were like water droplets to an overclocked engine.


Ramses growled. He bucked Raiden off only to catch him midair and slam him against one of the mirrors. The jackal’s cry of pain fell aside to the gasp of his master’s cock pistoning into his ravaged hole. Teeth dug into his shoulder, claws ripped into his skin to hold on.


Euphoric pain filled him like his master’s seed. Ramses didn’t stop. What remained of the dark dominant was a wild beast that licked his prey’s wounds with sadistic glee. Another shot filled him, followed by a third and fourth. Raiden’s haze made whatever came after four a mystery. He didn’t realize his head had been buried into the bed until he struggled to breathe into the covers.


By the end of it Raiden felt three pounds heavier. Seed sloshed around his bloated gut like water. His poor caged cock pooled a stream of precum, its sensitive head unable to shy away from the bars.


Ramses said nothing for a long while. He offered no water or gentle nuzzling a normal person might need. He simply cut open a new cigar, sucking in the taste as the curvy cum-filled jackal doppelganger mumbled on about needing more.


“Fuckin’ waste.”




***




“You’re late on my cut,” Ramses's terse tone sent goosebumps across Raiden’s skin. He’d been on calls all morning, each chipping away at the brittle mask of politeness the big jackal put up when dealing with people. He brought out his true face with the drags and the sluts to keep them in line. But tyrants lasted as long as people were afraid, so Ramses pretended to be considerate to anyone who mattered.


He slammed the table. It had limits.


“That’s not an explanation, that’s an excuse. Either you pay me cold hard credits, or you deliver me a truckload of fags and fairies I can use as compensation. I’m–” He shuddered, pausing at the tact of Raiden’s tongue easing his tension.


Ramses leaned back into his chair, took a deep breath, and spoke in a tone that told Raiden he was doing a good job without addressing him. “Look, I’m not gonna sugarcoat it. You fucked up. Bad. But I’m not Gregor. I’m not going to sell anyone you care about into debt and put your head on a pike. We all know how that turned out for him. No, instead I’m going to send you some help. I’ll have Taylor contact my guys on the force, they’ll deal with these dumbfucks who took the shipment, and you’ll help him get the goods from the station. We cool? Good.”


“Taylor,” Ramses opened a new channel right after closing the last. “I need you to get rid of Collin. This is the last fuck up I’ll accept. Plant something on him that’ll bury him in lockup.”


Ramses’s cock popped out of Raiden’s maw by the call’s end. The jackal licked his lips, drowning in the aftertaste of his master’s member. His jaw ached from hours of holding it, but it was worth it so long as his master deemed it so.


It’d been three months since his first, and only, fuck up. Raiden had been kicked up the chain to being the owner’s personal pet. Clients could still rent him out, but only the most affluent could afford it. That price tag made Raiden an excellent one-night gift for anyone making a deal with his master. And the ones that could afford it got their money’s worth. Ramses spent a month ensuring that.  


The bigger jackal kicked out from the desk, muttering to himself on the asinine fools his syndicate employed. Raiden crawled out after him. His master’s office was bedecked in mirrors of himself, from busts, statues, and paintings, to literal mirrors at the corner and behind his desk. Anyone receiving a talking down from Ramses could see Raiden worshiping his cock from reflection. Stupid people who implied a more incestuous relationship tended to share the spot, albeit harshly.


A golden ankh symbol decorated the black rug floor, matching what was printed on Ramses’s back and tongue. Raiden’s tongue curled every time he saw it, feeling the same subtle marking on his tongue.


Ramses downed a shot of scotch. “Fucking amateurs,” he poured himself another shot. “What do I need to do to keep these guys on point?”


Raiden knew better than to speak. He still did, craving reprimand. “Do you have to frame him?”


The muscular jackal looked at his curvy cockholster dead straight. “The fuck did you say?”


That rush of anger sparked a playful defiance in Radien’s grin, “I mean, what’s better, Daddy? Letting him fester in a cell somewhere, where no one will know him or have him demoted to a whore? I know how much your handlers look down on us. I can think of no better punishment than becoming like me.”


The only reason Ramses hadn’t started strangling Raiden was because he’d know the jackal loved it. That and, from experience, it wasn’t the first time Raiden convinced his master of anything. Not that either were willing to admit it.


“Yeah…” Ramses stroked his chin. Taking a seat, he Raiden over to press his foot against the effeminate Jackal’s skull, “Plenty of guys who work with him find him annoying enough as is, but framing him would be a waste. Why not just make him a stress toy? He’s got a pretty good ass as is.”


“As good as mine?” Raiden grinned.


“Keep fishing.” Ramses downed his third shot. After some assisted thinking with Raiden’s oral skills, the jackal called his handler to change the punishment. Taylor sounded happier with the order by the tone of his grunt. His master stared at the half-drank bottle to his right when the call ended.


“Actually, why don’t we test that?” He screwed the bottle shut, “Turn around and bend over.” Raiden put his head to the floor, raising his loose hole skyward at his master’s command. His skin crawled with joy at the next two words, “Good boy."", "pools_count": 1, "title": "Two Stars (Commission)", "deleted": "f", "public": "t", "mimetype": "text/plain", "pagecount": "1", "rating_id": "2", "rating_name": "Adult", "ratings": [ { "content_tag_id": "4", "name": "Sexual Themes", "description": "Erotic imagery, sexual activity or arousal", "rating_id": "2" } ], "submission_type_id": "12", "type_name": "Writing - Document", "guest_block": "t", "friends_only": "f", "comments_count": "0", "views": "410" }