“An outdoor cat,” Tucker chuckled to himself, “It’d be cute if it wasn’t so naive.” After a moment of quiet contemplation, the wolf shrugged and added. “Ok, still cute but only in a way that makes me want to break that confident smirk on your face.”


The cat in question didn’t carry any confidence. The ballgag in his mouth was too wide to express most emotions. His eyes though, soft gray ones which added an allure of exoticism for future buyers, showed fear. Not too long ago they were seductive, or trying to be. 


That morning, almost eight hours now by Tucker’s watch, the cat wandered into the K-Nap Inn looking for a trucker to bring him down to Austin. He introduced himself as Caleb and, lacking any funds, was offering a more personal favor in payment to anyone who’d take his request. Given the crop top and hotpants he wore, Tucker sensed that the snowshoe cat swung a particular way. Not that it mattered for his line of work, the wolf just liked to make assumptions about the meat. 


“He’s clean,” said Donald. The other wolf was Tucker’s senior by a decade but had been in the business for less. Tucker reasoned he was an old spy from how well he could research targets with the barest of information. All he needed was a license to find that Caleb had no kin to worry about, or people waiting for him. The cat was a vagabond with employment, one that’d surely miss him when they were done with him. He grinned, figuring the cat would be of better use elsewhere. 


Taking that as the queue to start, Hank grabbed the bound cat from behind. Like Donald, he was a wolf past his prime, but strong enough to hold the squirming cat still. Unfortunately, he didn’t have Tucker’s patience. He took a paddle hanging off the wall and smacked it against the cat’s bare bottom. It’s slap and Caleb’s gagged screams bounced off the concrete walls of the K-Napp Inn’s basement. 


Tucker raised his hand to signal Hank to stop. The wolf let go, leaving the gagged cat to slump on the floor. Tucker rolled the pretty boy over with his boot, then laid it out against his skull. “I know what you’re thinking. Or at least, I can guess it.” He held up two fingers, eyes never straying from the cat’s tearful gaze. “One, this is indeed happening. And two, no we don’t have some vendetta against you, nor are we holding you for ransom or would take any of your money.” 


The cat tried to speak. Tucker rolled his eyes and crouched down, grabbing the feline’s chin. “I didn’t just gag you because you look cute with a full mouth. You’re not the first stray I’ve picked up off the road, and you won’t be the last. How many do you think tried to appeal to my empathy? How many begged to be let go? How many promised they wouldn’t tell a soul what happened?” 


Hank was counting off his fingers before a glare from Tucker told him they were rhetorical questions. “Thing is, Caleb, you just came into the wrong place at the wrong time. We were stopping in for the day as a break in our shipping. If you came after we left, Gloria might have just given you a room until some trucker who didn’t know better came through. Then again, with a pretty face like yours, she might have kept you here until another slaver arrived. Cute twinks sell big on the market.”


The cat’s eyes sprung wide at the word. Slaver. Tucker had seen it all before on so many different faces. The terror that comes when confusion vanishes. He drank it in and let the cat try to scurry away. A little hope made the whole thing sweeter. 


“Hey Hank, pass me that paddle, will ya?” He asked, grasping the wooden paddle by its handle. He let the weight sink into his hold, punctuated with a few practice swings while Donald grabbed the flailing gagged kitten. The holes drilled in helped fill the air with a whooshing scream. “Present his ass. Want to teach this little bitch his first lesson.”


The cheeks were already red from the earlier strike, but Tucker wanted more. Hank forced Caleb’s head down, stifling his gagged cries against the pavement. Donald propped the ass up, suddenly surprised when he found something. “Faggot’s hard,” he said with a smile.


“No shit?” Tucker peered between the cat’s shivering legs. Sure enough, he saw an erection. Pretty average for a cat, but throbbing. He laughed. “Looks like someone’s into it. Maybe you’ll take to the life quickly. But we gotta set an example for ya. Like punishments.”


The paddle clapped against the cat’s pert cheeks. He wailed behind the gag, body squirming to avoid the next strike. Too bad two strong wolves held him down enough for Tucker to continue his onslaught. “Bad slaves get punished. Bad slaves try to run away. Bad slaves complain. Bad slaves misbehave.” Each point was made with the snap of wood against flesh. Caleb reeled, his ass turning purple from the strength of Tucker’s arm. The wolf knew Caleb wouldn’t be able to sit for days without a cushion. Given how they transported slaves, sitting wasn’t much of an option anyway.


Finished, Tucker leveraged the cat up by his chin on the edge of the paddle. “Now, are you going to be a good slave?” He asked the teary-eyed ‘outdoor’ cat. Caleb nodded, but Tucker wasn’t convinced and signaled Hank to remove the gag. “Are you going to be a good slave?” 


“Yes…” Caleb spoke low, his throat burning from attempted screams. 


“Yes, sir.” Tucker corrected, “But good enough. How about you thank my friends here properly for keeping you steady.”


It wasn’t a request. Caleb still looked shocked when the older wolves pulled him back. Hank’s throbbing erection batted the cat’s face, splashing precum over his nose before pinching it to hold his maw open. “If I feel any teeth, you’re losing them,” he growled, shoving his full cock down the cat’s gagging throat without care. Tucker knew Hank would do it, he’d seen it enough to ask him not to.


Donald had more class, preferring to lube the twink’s ass with his spit before diving in. Of course, spreading those bruised cheeks had to hurt, but the threat of impromptu dentistry kept him at bay. “Bitch has a loose ass,” the wolf jeered, pushing his cock inside. “It’s like he’s already trained for dick.”


Tucker took a moment to watch his colleagues double-team the new slave. He considered joining, feeling his erection stirring at the thought, but there was some more work to be done. So he left them be, taking the cat’s tattered and cut clothes off the floor to the next room over for the incinerator. 


Whatever wasn’t needed was burned. Mostly clothes, sometimes the extra nicknacks that they’d come across. When he first started Tucker would burn licenses and any other important documents, but he stopped upon realizing the benefits of stolen identities.


Gloria gave him a nod when he reached the bar. There was no one else in the front, but to be safe he flipped the sign to say they were closed and locked the door. “How we looking on time?”


Still cleaning a glass, the cow glanced down at her watch. A rolex. He wished she’d wear something a little less obvious but she had more authority to tell him to fuck off. “You’ve got about an hour before you need to move if you want to be on time. I suggest you take half that.”


He nodded. “The suggestion is appreciated. Drink?” Gloria passed him a shot glass of something yellow. He downed it without question, surprised to find it sweet and lemony rather than burning. “The hell is this?”


“Gatorade. I’ve got some red bulls and five-hour energies for you and the boys before you go.”


“Shoot, always looking out for me.” He laughed. She gave him the finger and he returned it in kind walking back. 


In the backroom his cohorts had the cat sandwiched between them, both cocks filling his asshole. Tucker couldn’t help but whistle at the cat’s limber form. “Don’t break him now, we gotta have something to sell.”


“We’ve got a whole truck already. This was just a bonus bitch,” replied Donald.


“Product is product. Much as I’d like to keep a personal one by my side, it’d need to be trained to hold down my home when I’m not around. I wouldn’t trust this little faggot with anything yet.”


Hank laughed, pulling out to let Donald continue. His cock glistened with lube and spit. “I don’t know, Tucker. This one seems to like it.” He grabbed the cat’s balls, yanking and squeezing to elicit a scream. The erection hadn’t shrunk. In fact, it was stronger than ever. 


Masochists were rare in Tucker’s experience. At a snap of his fingers, Donald stopped fucking the cat. Caleb collapsed into an exhausted pile at their feet. Turning aside his head with his boot, Tucker saw the sliver of a smile crossing the snowshoe cat’s face. “Well, I’ll be damned,” he said softly to himself. Kicking the bitch to his back, Tucker pressed his boot against Caleb’s chest and asked. “You're actually enjoying this, aren’t you?”


Caleb smiled. The kind of involuntary twitch of a smile as if he’d been caught doing something he shouldn’t have but lacked regret. “No,” he said. 


Tucker was a liar. He was employed by liars and worked with liars. Day by day he heard so many honeyed words the wolf considered himself living in a hive. So he knew a bad liar when he heard one, and Caleb was the worst liar he’d ever met. 


Crouching down, Tucker let the shadow of his cock encompass the lust-drunk feline. “You really are,” he said, locking Caleb’s erection into his grip. The cat gasped, mewling at the slow and steady pump Tucker inflicted. Normally the wolf didn’t care to give any slave pleasure, especially if it wasn’t a byproduct of his own. But the way the cat whimpered, those hushed little squeals whenever Tucker thumbed the head, made him think for a moment what it’d be like having the slut in his abode. 


Then he let go, turning the squeals into breathless shrieks when he clasped the cat’s nuts in his hand. “I want to make something perfectly clear to you. Until someone buys you, you’re a nobody. An untrained pair of holes. If you think enjoying it is going to make it easier for you, you’re dead wrong.” 


He clamped the cat’s maw shut and squeezed the sack tighter. Caleb’s body spasmed, eyes darting to and fro out of desperation. Yet his cock stayed hard as a rock. Tucker made a mental note to ensure they’d get a bonus for a true masochist. 


Tucker reeled back when Caleb came. He should have been prepared for it, but the sudden spurts of white goopy rope from the abuse had the wolf swear. Donald and Hank laughed, stopping when he glared back. 


“Fuck,” he wiped the gunk off his hands, then stopped and examined it. Without delay, he grabbed the panting cat and shoved the cum slathered hand down his throat. He gagged involuntarily, choking on his seed until Tucker pulled away and slapped his saliva-drenched hand across his face. 


“That’s the last time you get to cum without permission,” Tucker spat, “Fucking slut.” 


Caleb looked like the picture of ecstasy. Head back, eyes aimless, his tongue lolled out like he was high on drugs while his body lay still. Tucker wasn’t one to find it revolting but something about the new whore annoyed him. “Prep him for transport,” he ordered at the snap of his fingers.


With the cuffs behind Caleb, all that was left to add was a pair of ankle chains to make running impossible, a thick gag to shut him up, and a sack over his head to keep the cat in the dark. The bag seemed to bring the feline back to life as he squirmed in his bindings with garbled cries echoing from his filled maw. Seeing an opportunity to make the bitch suffer just a little more, Tucker looped a rope around his cock and balls, using it as a leash to guide him to the truck outside. Gloria rolled her eyes at the sight of it.


The semitrailer was filled with hooded slaves. Some recoiled when the door opened, their gagged cries being the only resistance they had left. Others paid no heed, either because they were sleeping or had already accepted their fate. Tucker cared little about it, hooking their latest acquisition to the wall and shutting the door, trapping Caleb in darkness with the rest of the meat. 


“About five hours until Austin. Hank, you drive. Donald, take over when Hank gets tired.” Tucker stretched his arms and yawned. “As for me, I’ll take a nap in the cabin."