Prey have no rights within this world. That grants men such as I an abundance of delightful opportunities.
I do not know the little mouse's name, nor do I care to learn it. She strayed into my hunting grounds with two males escorting her, but even the largest mouse is barely half the size of a cat. I sent them fleeing with their cute little tails between their legs, and ran down their mousy woman effortlessly.
I dragged her home, delighting in her efforts to escape. I even laughed aloud as she stopped resisting and resorted to desperate begging, but even that stopped in time; every other feline or canine we walked past simply grinned, as if they knew what was in store for her.
Once we were in my home I deigned to speak to her. Softly, of course, in a tone that she might even have thought kind. “It's alright, little mouse. You have nothing to fear so long as you do exactly what you're told. I hope you will be obedient, for I would hate to do anything that might cause you pain.” I flexed my claws for emphasis, her timid whimpers sending a luscious shiver down my spine.
“Remove your clothes, please. Every last one.” I could hardly contain my delight when she obeyed with barely any hesitation, her trembling paws moving to ease off her jacket, then lift her shirt to reveal the soft, almost white fur beneath. Her glacial pace was clearly born of fear and lack of desire to bare herself before me, but it may as well have been a strip-tease.
“Lovely,” I sighed, taking in the subtle curves of the prey's body; the hourglass shape of her hips, the plump little breasts, the enticing hint of pink between her thighs. Oh, how much fun I was going to have!
Taking my new prize by the paw, I steered her towards the basement. Such things as I had planned simply must take place in a basement, after all! I had invested considerably in my toy, and I hoped she would come to appreciate it as much as I did. She struggled just a little, but the press of a claw against her bare throat brought compliance.
My 'toy' was a wrack of sorts. My little mouse was bound near vertical, with just a slight lean forwards. The rests and restraints kept her bound in a squatting posture, though suspended in the air within its sturdy frame rather than on the floor. At the perfect height, she must surely have noticed, for a feline such as I to take advantage of her most intimate of passages with my hardened, throbbing manhood.
I gave the mouse a strip-tease once she was bound. Oh, how she squeaked in terror! Her wordless pleading was music to my ears, and served to make me all the harder! But I knew something she didn't; that this moment of delight was not to come any time soon. I am not a rapist, after all; I wouldn't take her until she begged me to.
The next step was to apply a few sensors to her body, a vital step if the game was to be played correctly, and then a sturdy gag-muzzle to bind that precious little mouth firmly shut. She would suckle on a rubber cock, a shrunk-down replica of my own, throughout her ordeal. Finally, the last of the binds were set in place, giving her not a single inch to squirm and wriggle in.
My finger, claw safely retracted, tickled the little mouse's chin. “Shake your head and I will free you.” At those words I saw her tremble, clearly fighting the binds that forced her to stare straight forwards at all times. “Excellent! Now, little mouse, look straight at me. Look up and down for 'yes', left and right for 'no'. Do you want me to fuck your cunny with my big, feline cock?”
Her eyes went wild, swivelling left and right as expected. I kissed my helpless slave on the forehead. “Ssh! It's okay. I accept your answer.”
I stepped away then, moving around behind her. The tip of her furless little tail thrashed in its tight binds, the only part of her that could move at all. She had no idea what was coming, and I purposely let her enjoy the anticipation for a good ten minutes before moving the final piece of the puzzle into place.
I fixed the tickler between her legs, and extended the arm so the feathered head caressed her labia. I spread her with my fingers and brought it up a fraction more, my cock leaping with delight at how she whimpered at the subtle tickling of the setup. With a simple press of a button, the feather began its dance, a tingling stroke between her labia, a tease across her cunny hole and pissing spot, before ending with a cruel little flick against her clit. The muffled, squeaking shriek she made at that first pass was almost enough to make me climax, but I somehow held firm. Cock so hard it was agony, precum spurting from my tip as if I were pissing from a night on the ale, I stalked back into my mouse's field of view. I confess, what I did next was obvious, but far too wonderful not to. “Tickle, tickle, tickle!” I whispered into those big, beautiful ears. Her shriek had faded, turning into a wonderful mix of frightened yelps, angered howls and, of course, unwilling giggles. I could have made it infinitely worse for the mouse, tickling that exposed midriff, or those sweet little armpits, but I stayed my hand; it was so much better when her entire world became focused on a single spot between her squatting hips.
I planted a kiss upon her muzzled nose, and left her to the toy. On my way out of the door I started the clock on the wall, the timer counting up to my return. Naturally, the timer was in the centre of her vision, and when I shut off the lights its soft green glow was all the illumination she had. The howl she unleashed as I clicked the door shut and trapped her in the dark, with only that cruel feather for company... oh, I shall never know how I didn't spray my seed all over in an instant!

Try as I might to stay busy that evening, my thoughts were always with her. I checked my phone every fifteen seconds to inspect her vitals, my cock fully rigid for every second of the hour we were apart. I returned almost exactly on time: the clock read 01:01:45 when I shut it off.
As the lights came back on, my little mouse was in quite a state. As unwanted as that feather was, the incessant slow stroking had inevitably garnered a physical reaction; the mildest aroma of sweat lingered around the mouse, her nipples jutted clearly from either side of the padded bar her chest rested upon, and a shameful blush lingered around her eyes.
Once more I whispered softly to her. “It's alright, my lovely little pet. You can cum if you wish.” I saw the hesitation, the reluctance, and pressed on. “It's not like you have a choice, is it? Once you cum, I promise that evil little feather will stop. But until then... tickle, tickle, tickle!”
Her whole body tensed, eyes clenching shut, fingers and toes curling. She was ready to give in, or perhaps simply that desperate for mercy that she'd gladly cum for me if it meant an end to her cunny's ordeal. Tickle, tickle, ti- her eyes cracked open a fraction, then eased a little more. The feather hadn't completed its swish. -ckle. She flinched as it brushed her clit.
Flick. Another teasing tickle. Flick. Her dripping labia quivered as the feather tickled past. One more, just one more pass, and she'd be over the edge... but it didn't come. Not in time, at least.
“Tickle, tickle, tickle,” I whispered again, and she began to sob. The most beautiful tears in all of history rolled over the black leather binding her muzzle closed as the feather, driven by the monitors attached to her body, entered a rhythm designed to keep her perfectly on the edge of climax. It was surely the worst of all worlds; to be tickled against her will, to be forced into unwanted arousal, and then to be denied even the mercy of an actual climax.
“You know, if a feather can't make you cum, I bet I know what can,” I purred into her ears. “Would you like a big, barbed cock inside that tight little hole of yours?”
I looked her in the eyes, delighting at how long she held my gaze. She was genuinely wondering if it was worth it, if accepting would truly end her torment. But the eyes swivelled 'no'. Again, I kissed her tenderly. “I'll be back in an hour, pet.”

I did not come back in an hour. Instead, I tried my best to sleep. It was no easy feat, as you might imagine; I lay in bed with a throbbing erection, dozing in an out of lustful dreams of how good it would feel to finally pop my little mouse's cherry. Not that I believed she was a virgin, of course, but such things don't matter in dreams.
Six and a half hours late, I returned to find my mouse in the most terrible state. She lay completely limp in her binds, sweat caking her once pristine fur. The pungent aroma of urine drifted from the floor beneath her, the feather merrily wiping streaks of her own drying piss across her still damp folds.
As gently as I could, I shook the little mouse awake. The moment she became cognisant of me her eyes began to swivel up and down – yes, yes, yes! Oh, how she wanted me now! How she needed me! But there were other things to tend to first. I fed her, most importantly; a warm, nutritious soup delivered through a slot in the muzzle. She suckled hungrily on her meal as it leaked from the replica of my cock. Next, I gave her a sponge bath, cleaning every inch of her bar the place between her legs – I wanted to leave the feather to its evil work as long as I could. Then I took it away, unscrewing the feather and putting it aside to be cleaned. Little mouse was blissfully unaware there were plenty more. I washed her shame away before indulging just a little, pressing my pre-soaked cock against her passage. “Wiggle your little tail if you'd like me to go inside,” I purred, and how that tail danced!
But the game wasn't over. “No? Are you sure?” The tail thrashed even more, combined with frantic, pleading moans from her gagged maw. “Alright, little mouse. I would hate to force myself upon you...”
I left her crying in desperate frustration, howling as the new, clean feather took up the task of leaving her in eternal, pent-up helplessness. I didn't tell her how long I'd be gone; in reality, I was returning to work. No easy feat to work with her in the back of my mind at all times!
Had I wished, I could have taken her as soon as I got home. But no, the game had to continue. She was fed and cleaned once more, and this time I stayed with her to offer some company. I read her a story, all evening, to give her something to think about besides the feather. I don't think she was really listening; her loins must have been too distracting!

Three days of self denial was all I could stand, never mind what she might have been going through.  My own needs came first, and the instant I was home from work I hurried to my little mouse. My paw gripped her muzzle and I watched her bleary eyes slowly focus on me. “Do you want me to fuck you now, pet?”
Yes, her eyes said. Yes-yes-yes!
“I can fuck you hard and fast, or slow and gentle. Do you want it hard?” Yes- no! No no no! “You want it gentle?” Yes. I smiled at her, as kindly as I could. The little whimper of relief that slipped out when the feather finally stopped was more than I could ever have wished for.
I took position behind her, pressing my hot, pulsing cock against her passage, which twitched hungrily at the contact. Oh, how sensitive she must have been down there! She barely even resisted, letting me inch my way in, stretching her tight little hole inch my careful inch. She whimpered a little as I began to thrust, slowly as promised, the barbs clinging to her dripping insides with each careful motion. She came in no time at all, a wild and lustful climax that helped me to my own. Yet I wasn't done with her; as three days of thick seed filled her womanly passage, I continued to thrust. I was going to hump her until I was soft, and after teasing myself with her helplessness for so long that softness was not soon coming!
I filled her, over and over, pumping load upon load into her until she was broken by the sheer effort it took to receive my gifts. Finally soft enough to ease from her tight, silken grip, I gifted my toy with sleep.

How happy she must have been to wake without the tickling between her hips! Truth be told, I was hard again the next morning, and put it on full display as I fed her and cleaned her in the usual fashion. I think she knew by now she would never leave this device again. I only briefly wondered how she felt about that. “May I enjoy your pussy this morning?” I asked her, and those compliant eyes said 'yes'. I was gentle, of course, and like a gentleman I cleaned her up thoroughly after.
And oh, how she howled when the feather touched her once again. Perhaps she'd dared hope that part of her torment was over. How wrong she was!
I kissed her gently on her forehead, purring with delight as I leaned in to whisper, “I know how much you love that feather, so I'm going to give you a little break from being my fleshlight. I promise I won't ask for your cunny again for a whole month.”
The horror in her eyes was simply too much. I had to masturbate, despite already filling her with seed; barely a spurt came out as she howled in terror into her muzzle, begging me not to leave her in ticklish hell for that long, hoping against hope that I was lying.
I was lying, of course. I let the feather edge her for sixty days instead.