It wasn’t every day that Kjatar was invited for tea. He’d been wined and dined plenty of times, but a casual cup of tea in an open-air cafe was a rarity he wanted to bask in. Clad in a white blouse loose enough to be confused for a dress and fashionable skinny jeans, the pink cat tested the tea with a tentative lick. His face soured, reeling from the heat as he settled the teacup back down to the ceramic plate. “I don’t know how you can stand it,” Erika said. The mouse sat across from him, legs crossed and sipping her cup easily while a gentle morning breeze brushed through them. Kjatar’s deep red pigtails fluttered along the wind while the mouse’s blue-highlighted blonde bobcut looked unperturbed. In that brief moment, he saw the confident, if diminutive, domme before him, playful but strict when the situation called for it. He should know, having been on the receiving end of her paddle more times than he could count. “You get used to it.” He leaned back, easing the sensation in his crotch. Even without an active keyholder, Kjatar often walked with his cock locked away. A small sprinkle of kink to make his regular days less boring. Erika teased him about it when they arrived, recalling Kjatar's nervousness when he first walked around with a locked cock. The cat swore his crotch was more noticeable then. It was, but most people didn’t stare if he didn’t draw attention to it. “So, what’s the occasion? You don’t go out much.” “I do…sometimes.” Erika sank into her shoulders, turning her gaze away from the smug cat. “Well it’s a nice day, I wanted to ask you something, and the book I’ve been wanting arrived finally so I figured I could hit three birds with one…” She paused and peered around to notice a trio of avians, one crow, a swallow, and a bluejay, looking her way. Her ears dropped and she silenced herself with another sip. “So what did you want to ask me?” He asked, steering the conversation back, “Not that I’m too busy, but you can always text me questions.” The mouse sighed and collected herself. “I’ve taken on an apprentice.” Kjatar raised his brow, “You work in an office. They don’t do apprenticeships.” “N-Not a work apprenticeship.” Erika blushed, peering left and right before leaning to whisper, “Someone wants me to teach them how to be a domme.” His ears perked with interest. “Oh?” Kjatar leaned in, trying to be coy while the table shifted under the weight of the cat’s elbow. “And who is it? Anyone I know?” “Yaella. Have you met?” “Yaella?” He knew the hyena but it still struck him as odd. She was certainly a top given the encounters he had where his nose braced the base of her cock, but she never seemed interested in BDSM. Any restraints Yaella used were her two arms locking lovers down. “Yaella came to you?” Erika nodded with enthusiasm. “We met at last month’s play party. I thought I saw you there.” “I was sick.” Erika nodded. “Ah, right. Anyway, I plucked her out of the crowd because she looked so nervous.” He tried not to laugh at the image of an amazonian hyena being nervous, failed with a giggle, and let her continue. “Turns out it was her first time at the club. She skipped the 101 and everything. I keep telling the owner those should be required but they keep blowing–” “Erika, focus.” “Right, right. Yaella said she wanted to learn more about being a domme. Specifically training cute boys to be adorable girls. We got to talking and I offered to give her the ins and outs. We’ve been meeting every Friday since, and I wanted to ask if you’d join us tonight.” Thoroughly hooked, the cat couldn’t hide his smile if he tried. “Of course. When should I arrive?” He asked, testing his tea for heat again. It was still too hot. Next time he’d order something cold. *** The Venn-diagram of nerds and BDSM enthusiasts was a circle. There were few BDSM clubs Kjatar knew of that didn’t have some connection to mythology, horror, or even dungeons and dragons when it came to their name. Erika’s preferred meeting place was a little hole in the wall named Tartarus that unveiled a wide playspace fashioned from an old subway station. Whoever bought it had filled the tracks with cement for an even floor, then covered it in thick rubber-like an ice rink. The walls were stacked with bondage gear and furniture, most on wheels to be rolled out, assembled, then disassembled when finished. The ticket station was turned into a bar that was empty now. Better saved for parties than open play. Open-play evenings had few consistent players. With busy lives and taking place on a Friday night, few had the freedom to always show up for play with expected partners. Himself and Erika were the rare sort to make it work whenever they pleased, so the doorman knew Kjatar well enough to smile as he stepped inside. After checking his ID. “Sorry, rules are rules.” “It’s no problem,” Kjatar smiled as he took back his license, “That’s what BDSM is anyway, sex with rules.” The doorman, a stocky pitbull named John, scoffed at the explanation. “Sounds lame when you put it like that.” “No less true,” Kjatar winked, heading inside and dropping off anything unnecessary in one of the lockers outside of play. Erika didn’t give him any suggestion on how he should dress tonight, which meant she either had something planned or she wanted him as bare as possible. He opted for a pair of black panties with matching sleeves and stockings, the color making his pink fur pop. The pièce de résistance of his attire was the black leather collar around his neck, with the word ‘femboy’ written sparkling in cursive studded letters. He tugged at it by the D-ring, eagerly imagining Erika or a certain hyena taking hold. Instead of music, as DJs were saved for parties, the cat heard the crack of leather to furred flesh and the delightful screams that followed on his way to the floor. Some had taken to an X-cross for flogging, some a bondage horse to spank with, and one bunny couple decided to use the husband’s cock and balls as a speed bag. The way the big bunny winced into his gag while his wife pummeled him made Kjatar keel over in empathy, but it wasn’t his place to judge. Besides, the rabbit’s thick cock was throbbing despite the pain. Erika waited for him in the far corner. The short domme wore an ensemble of leather gear, from glossy black boots, a corset covering her chest, and elbow-length opera gloves. She finished the look with a black domino mask that, to anyone who knew her, did little to hide who she was. Not that Kjatar would comment and Erika knew it. The mask was just the final key to unlock her playful persona, the diminutive domme Miss B. Beckoned over with a wave, Kjatar didn’t notice Yaella from the shadowed corner until crossing the room. How the hyena that dwarfed both him and Miss B in height escaped his notice was a mystery he gulped down when taking in her presence. Compared to her teacher, the hyena preferred to leave little to nothing for the imagination. Her upper body was bare to allow her heavy breasts room to breathe while the polished nipple studs glistened in the light. Tough fingerless leather gloves wrapped her clenched fists, straining as she opened and closed them. He peered down to see her package, surprised to find it hidden by a black thong that, if he were being charitable, barely held it. He spent enough time wearing women’s clothes to know it wasn’t in her size. Likely on purpose. She smiled, revealing sharp fangs as she strode over on leather boots. “Well, well, well,” the hyena’s finger looped around his D-ring, “Don’t you look delightful. Are you late because you were too busy fixing up your hair?” There was something about Yaella that made Kjatar want to sink to his knees and feel the strength of her finger holding him. It may have been her confidence or the fact that she was a musclebound amazonian that had the cat thinking he was some Greek prisoner of war lucky enough to mate with her. Then she yipped, shattering the illusion briefly. With whooping laughter, she rubbed her ass. “Yaella, what did I tell you about protocols?” Miss B said, playfully smacking a wooden rod against her palm. Kjatar clenched his ass at the sight of it, empathetic to the pain her apprentice was desperate to soothe away. “You can’t just grab hold of a submissive’s collar, especially if they aren’t your partner, without permission. Communication needs to be set.” “But he was enjoying it,” she whined, brushing away the green highlights in her long black hair to look back at him. “You were, right?” He was. “Doesn’t mean Eri…I mean, Miss B, is wrong,” Kjatar caught a glance from the mouse when he nearly said her name. “We haven’t played in an ‘official’ setting yet. So we need to establish rules, safewords, and limits.” He airquoted the term official given that there was no such thing when it came to sex. He wasn’t sure how to better separate the rough fuck him and the hyena shared in a club bathroom stall and actual BDSM play. The hyena sighed, more giving up than convinced as she nodded. “Right, right. Sorry. When Miss B said you’d be my test dummy I got a little excited. Where do we start?” Miss B explained the protocols and offered questions for Yaella to ask. What his limits were and what he wanted. Kjatar answered in kind, sharing the desire to be prettied up and humiliated that Yaella wanted to push. “You’re not a masochist?” She asked, confused when he stated it. “Not physically at least,” Kjatar laughed, “There’s no funishment from pain for me, so it works for discipline.” He eyed Miss B, “Isn’t that right?” The mouse bit her lip and nodded, “But the lines across your bum were cute.” He shrugged apprehensively. “I couldn’t sit without wincing for a few days after. But you’re right, they were cute.” Yaella had no shortage of questions, followed by infectious laughter when either him or Miss B answered. More than once Kjatar peered down between the hyena’s legs, eagerly seeing her cock burgeoning to erection underneath the small thong. If Yaella noticed, she said nothing. He noticed Miss B's grin as she playfully swatted him with her tail just out of sight. “So, unless I’m missing something, that’s everything right?” The hyena looked to her smaller teacher for confirmation. At her nod, Yaella smiled wide, exposing sharp fangs that made Kjatar gulp down the burning desire to feel them against his collarbone. “Good. Kneel,” Yaella commanded, shifting her tone from playful to authoritative on the fly. The cat’s heart leaped but he kept his composure, scooting out from the chair and kneeling against the dry rubber floor. He kept his gaze downward as Miss B taught him in play, leaving him to imagine what kind of leash the hyena must have pulled out from somewhere by its jingle. Not enough sound for a full chain so it had to be leather. “I love this collar you have,” Yaella’s clawed finger traced each letter across his throat. “Femboy. Just a femboy? You sure you’re not a sissy or a whore? Those collars would fit your pretty little head well, wouldn’t it?” The hyena latched the leash through his D-ring and pulled it taut, forcing him to face those delectable brown eyes. “Of course, you shouldn’t have worn one. You robbed me of the chance to put one around that pretty neck of yours. Would you say that warrants a punishment, Miss B?” “I’d say so,” the mouse said, her tone implying it was more of a playful punishment than corrective. Some doms looked for at least one reason to punish their submissive, and as much as he hated the cane, Kjatar couldn’t deny the idea of their discipline aroused him. Miss B pointed to his crotch when she noticed. “Though it seems our little sissy decided to let her clitty loose tonight.” “She did,” Yaella pulled his head back to get a closer look. Miss B told him to go uncaged for the evening, leaving his cock to strain against soft silk panties. “We can’t have that, can we? Good sissies don’t get hard, they keep their clitties soft and pretty. It’s not a cock after all, not like this.” She hoisted her fat rod in front of his face. Halfway to erect, its powerful musk filled his nostrils. He drank it in, subconsciously comparing it to his own and gladly submitting to it. “Take your panties off and lie backward, legs spread.” Yaella’s ordered. Adopting a surrendering pose, the pink cat exposed his rod to both women. Miss B snickered as the hyena pressed something cold against the submissive erection. He winced, pushing through the shrinking feeling with deep breaths. The hyena’s strong hands massaged lube over his cock and balls as if it were lotion. Tight in her grip, she slipped his sack through a metal ring, followed by his cock and the tight pressure of the cage that followed. All it took was one click to lock him in their pretty prison. Yaella may have not gotten the pleasure of collaring him tonight, but there was more than one way to claim ownership. “Much better,” She tapped against the cage, fingering the urethral slit with her claw. He winced at the plight of his cockhead, tormented and teased like an actual clitty. “Now, why don’t we pretty you up a little more before punishing you? What’s the fun of tears if I can’t see stains?” Situated on a chair with some unneeded, though thoroughly enjoyed, cuffs behind his arm, Kjatar was left to the mercy of both dommes. Yaella brought the makeup kit, a large fold-out box she kept in a locker that was filled with various shades and tools. “I’m thinking violet for her eyes,” the hyena said, casually dragging her nail over the tubes of lipstick in thought. “Think we can try a pale blue for her lips?” “Why not?” Miss B said, cupping Kjatar’s face, pursing the cat’s lips, “She’s your canvas.” Canvas. Kjatar felt giddy at the term. He was their plaything, their doll, an object of pretend where he didn’t need to think about anything. It made his cock stiffen fruitlessly against the cage. The plug in his bum they’d yet to uncover ground against his button while the stronger hyena pushed and pulled at him as she worked, adorning him in delightful colors that, without a mirror, he’d never see. When Yaella finished she affectionately patted Kjatar’s cheek. “Oh, you are just adorable. I wish I could take a picture. Why’s there a rule against that?” “Privacy concerns,” Miss B answered, swiftly tapping a riding crop against the cat’s bum. “And show some grace, dear. You can’t expect a domina to do well without positive reinforcement.” He grinned, hiding his shame briefly for getting lost in the moment. “Thank you for prettying me up, Ma’am,” He said, loud enough for any who passed by to hear. Given the acoustics of the walls and the lack of music, most could. He in turn kept hearing the crack of whips and the cry of partners reaching climax only to be denied throughout the night. It was as if envy itself was by his ear. Pink flushed the hyena’s cheeks. A nervous whooping laugh slipped through her lips while both hands held his face tight. “Mistress,” she corrected, breathless and needing to compose herself to continue. “Not ma’am, Mistress. Call me Mistress Yaella.” Unable to nod in her hold, he said, “Yes, Mistress Yaella,” and the hyena giggled louder. “I’m going to make you scream my name,” she whispered, leaning in so Miss B couldn’t hear, “Make you as addicted to saying it as I am to hearing it. But before that, we need to get your punishment out of the way.” Being a former subway tunnel, the club had to hang heavy chains from the ceiling to suspend anyone. Kjatar’s hands were pulled over his head, yanked high to keep him on the tips of his toes. The two women circled him like sharks, both stopping and musing aloud at the jeweled plug in his rump. Yaella twisted, pulled, and pushed it back in playfully, stopping when Miss B brought a paddle to hammer it in. They gagged Kjatar with the pretense of keeping him quiet, but he’d played with the mouse enough to know he needed something to bite down on. “I think she deserves something a little more…personal,” Yaella said, disregarding the paddle in favor of grabbing both buttcheeks in her hands. She squeezed. “What’s the tally, Miss B?” “Well, there’s wearing a collar that we didn’t put on.” Miss B counted a finger for each transgression, “She called you ma’am instead of Mistress. Oh, we can’t forget arriving late.” The last two were unfair and Kjatar knew it. Yaella didn’t list titles in the discussion before play and he’d only been late by a few minutes. But they’d long since stopped caring about fairness, as did he from the giddy excitement he felt when Yaella smiled at him. He smiled behind his gag, letting his tail curl around the hyena’s waist. If Yaella noticed she didn’t act on it, simply nodding and setting herself behind the pink cat. “Three punishments. Because you’re pretty, I’ll be merciful and give you three spankings instead of thirty.” She kneaded his cheeks, growling softly with her following whisper, “Are you ready?” At his nod, she pulled back. The clap of her palm rebounded across the concrete walls. Its sting delayed, burning fiercely across his left buttcheek from the full force of her hand. Kjatar flailed in his bindings, teeth unable to break the gag’s thick rubber while his hands balled into fists as if to ease the pain. Yaella waited until he finished squirming before striking again. This one on his right, adding to the blistering needle-like sting of her full weight. He closed his eyes and took deep breaths through his nose to steady himself for the third. She didn’t give him time, striking both cheeks with one hand. The pain shot up his spine so quickly it forced his arms to buckle and lift him up. “There,” Yaella pulled his hair back, “All set and done. Though I think it’s time you pay me back for prettying you up. That makeup wasn’t cheap.” It most definitely was but Kjatar didn’t care. He nodded, blinking to cast away tears that ran mascara down his cheeks. Lowered to his knees by rattling chains, Kjatar saw the hyena’s thick cock overshadow his face. Precum pooled at the tip while her heavy musk emanated from the sack. “Show me what those pretty little lips can do.” Her command came with a euphoric tight hold on his scalp. Parting his blue lips, the pink cat suckled her black tip. His tongue lathering it in a mixture of saliva and precum that glistened all the same. Despite her hold, he didn’t go down the rod directly, preferring to drag his tongue down the shaft to his balls for a taste of her sweat. Her desire. He made a point to look up at her aroused visage, taking the effort to feel the weight of her cock against his face. Its wetness added to the ruin of his makeup his tears had started. But Yaella was impatient. He heard it in her voice when she praised him. “Good girl. Take it all.” She’d bop her rod against his face like a club, giggling when he tried to follow it like a fish to bait. Soon she stopped holding back and grabbed his skull with both hands. “Keep it open.” She didn’t need to command it. Kjatar gladly opened wide, holding his tongue out like she was about to inspect it with a stick. Instead of a wooden stick, her cock pushed inside, slowly sinking inch by inch until the cat started to gag. Then she held it there, using his maw like a holster for her meat. He gagged. Spit sputtered from his lower lip, trailing from maw to the floor as his body convulsed for air. She pulled out to let him breathe, the air fresh with her taste while saliva and phlegm were hacked onto the floor. “Not bad,” Yaella said, idly handling her cock. Collecting himself Kjatar noticed the blue ring of lipstick staining the base of her shaft. “But she can do better. Don’t you agree, Miss B?” The mouse’s fingers slipped under Kjatar’s hair. “Oh, I do indeed.” Her voice wavered with sadistic delight. He couldn’t get a word in before she shoved him back down the yeen’s thick cock, his head guided by Miss B’s hold while Yaella rocked into him. They used his mouth with gusto, eager to stain his cheeks with mascara ruined by masochistic tears. Every break for air was met with a slap of Yaella’s cock or Miss B spitting into his gaping maw, adding herself to the mix of bodily fluids. Kjatar’s tongue lolled out, reaching for a shaft just out of reach like the hungry cockslut they called him. He wanted it down his throat, wanted to taste her seed before filling his gullet. Yaella didn’t pop. She came close, gritting her teeth and pulling out to stop herself from finishing inside his hungry mouth. With her cock stained from tip to base in blue, the hyena pulled her pretty and submissive catboy back to his feet by the chains suspending him. Then she pulled his plug without ceremony, tossing it aside in a fit of lustful fervor. “Beg for it,” Despite her command Yaella sounded off. Too excited to keep her imposing tone. The tip of her cock braced his loose hole, eager to split him in two but waiting for his pleading. “Please, fuck me, Mistress.” “What are you?” Yaella asked, sinking in slowly. “Tell me what you are.” “I’m your slut,” Kjatar said, gasping at the tool spreading him wide. She smacked his ass and demanded he repeat it. Louder and forceful. “I’m your cute little slut!” He cried, unable to hang his head in shame from the echo thanks to her tight grip. At halfway she slammed herself inside. His back arched, body held aloft by a combination of chains and strong yeen muscles. The wet slap of her cock filled the evening air, mixing with his grunts, moans, and the clack of his padlock. Kjatar noticed onlookers from the corner of his eye. Some were just watching, others were toying to the scene. Miss B pulled his head away. “Good girl,” she whispered, pecking his cheek. “Good girls get rewarded.” The whir of a wand resounded in his ears, followed by the sudden vibration against his cage. He shrieked, but Yaella kept him steady, fucking him harder with a tight grip. Miss B held his caged cock in place, keeping a tight squeeze on his pert sack to remind him that all pleasure came with a little pain. Kjatar’s face hurt from smiling, from ecstasy. Yaella’s stamina outdid him, still pounding the pink cat when his cage spurted seed that dripped down his bucking legs. No longer able to stand on his own, Yaella hoisted Kjatar up, turning their simple position into a full nelson. She wrapped her arms tight when the time came, nearly crushing him under her strength as the warm thick fluids filled him. They stood still save for their heavy breaths. Nestled between her muscles and breasts, Kjatar felt a euphoria reserved for the best sessions. Miss B looked pleased behind her mask. Needing a stool, she unhooked Kjatar from the cuffs and brought over two bottles of water in addition to her own. The cooldown area was a square of couches facing each other and beanbags facing each sofa. Yaella collapsed into one, still holding Kjatar. He couldn’t have gotten there without her. “So,” Miss B plopped onto a bean chair, crossing her legs, “How was she?” Confused, Kjatar looked to see Yaella snoozing. He hadn’t realized how exhausting the session must have been for her. “I liked her personal touch. Especially with the aggression. Do you need a regular test dummy?” Miss B smiled and took a sip from her bottle. “Couldn’t hurt.”