Greg pulled the chair back from the dining room table and looked at the meticulously prepared meal that lay before him. The raccoon was used to the finer things of life. The dinner that he was about to consume was made from the finest cuts of meats and the freshest vegetables and looked as if it came right out of a cookbook. Brick took a seat at the table and took the cloth napkin that laid beside his plate and gently laid it across his lap and began to consume the meal savoring each bite in turn. Classical music played in the background as he gazed upon the furnishings of his lavish dining room. 

The raccoon had plenty of money plenty of taste and a sadist streak within his soul. He had a taste for the most expensive things that life could provide, and uh lusting for the things that money couldn't provide. Once finished with his meal the raccoon took the cloth napkin and dabbed the corners of his mouth. Taking his plate and cutlery into the kitchen he took his time cleaning them drying and putting them away with the rest. The raccoon was thoughtful methodical and organized. Everything had its place, its purpose, and if he was going to savor and enjoy life to the fullest, everything needed to be in its proper place for him. The raccoon was meticulous to detail, and never left any loose ends in the work that he conducted, or the activities he took part in.

His home was large, but he did not share it with anyone else. He lived alone and enjoyed the solitude and peace. While he did have his associates, and what others would call friends, he did not allow them too much access into his personal life, and for good reason. After sorting out the kitchen the raccoon continued on with his evening schedule, heading upstairs to enjoy a nice hot shower. It was his routine, and every step had to be followed correctly. His mind worked in a way different than others, he knew it, but he found a way to make that method of thought work for him. After drying off, brushing his fur, brushing his teeth, and softening his nails with a file he slipped on a plush bathrobe and tied the belt around his waist before sliding his paws into soft slippers. 

Greg walked out of his master bathroom, over to his dresser, spritzed himself with Brute cologne just across his chest, and inhaled the scent, a smile forming upon his muzzle. This was his ritual on these special nights, and tonight was indeed a special night. Walking downstairs he checked the door, and locked it, having one more look at his security cameras before dimming the lights on the lower level of the home. It was 10pm on the nose, and now it was time for his evening enjoyment. He could already feel the excitement within his lizard-like brain, and loins, at what he had already planned. Making his way to the basement, he made his way down to the sublevel that he had converted from a storage area, into his own medieval-like dungeon. The warm flicker of torchlight danced across his dark eyes as he traversed down the stone steps and into the main area where he had so many contraptions and devices for allowing his inner sadist to play. The walls down here often heard the screams and cries of agony. 

Walking through an archway into the main chamber, Greg gazed over at quite the precarious sight, of a young boy around 9 years of age, standing upon a wooden stool, a noose around his neck, wrists secured behind his back with tape. The raccoon make eye contact with the boy that could only whimper because his muzzle was banded shut with several wrappings of that same white tape that held his wrists together. The vulpine cub had his bushy tail tucked firmly between his bare legs, no clothing covered the child as he stood there, trembling so hard after standing so still with perfect balance as to not fall off the stool and hang himself. 

The raccoon regarded the child for a moment and then stepped over to the wall, and slipped his robe off, hanging it up on a simple hook, and then neatly tucking his slipper together under it. Nude and exposed the raccoon smiled softly as he walked around the fox kit standing there, observing, looking at every inch of his exposed body. The raccoon was most please with the beauty this one had, and savored the soft innocent body without ever laying a finger upon it. Without a single word, the raccoon turned his gaze to a large reclining chair that sat just a few feet back from the fox, and kneeling beside it was another young thing. This one was an otter, his head was down, and the only thing worn upon him was a collar around his neck, signifying his status as a salve, property belonging to the raccoon master. The otter lifted his head only slightly to look up at his master as he waited and dared not move from the spot kneeling beside the master’s chair. 

Greg flared his nose and took in the scent of fear in the air, slowly blinking and licking his lips. The smell of true fear and terror was like sweet candy to the evil man, and with the sadist inside him squirming around in expected pleasure, he finally moved to take his seat on the chair and sink into the soft satin that covered it. Spreading his legs he lifted a hand and gestured with two fingers for the otter to come over. The boy crawled on all fours around to the front of his master’s chair, right up between his legs like he had done so many times before, and didn’t even make eye contact with him. The otter lowered his face down where it was expected to go, and the raccoon’s member was lovingly held in his slave's warm wet suckling mouth. Greg inhaled slow and deep, exhaled a sigh of pure contentment as he didn’t even regard the child now sucking on his manhood, but instead gazed up at the fox standing on that stool with tears in his eyes. The raccoon felt his member harden inside his otter’s lovely little mouth as the fox squirmed with growing trepidation. 

The fox was starting to become even more shakey, Greg knew after hours of being made to stand upon that stool, that the boy’s legs were getting weak. The otter continued to suck and slurp on Greg’s cock but made sure to not make too much noise because the raccoon delighted in the sounds the tortured children made. A smile upon his muzzle, Greg’s fingertip circled around a red button that was embedded in the armrest of his chair. The fox started to whimper louder as he watched the raccoon’s digit tease that button, having a fair idea of what it was going to do. The fox tried to please through his taped mouth, but nothing could be understood. The boy wanted to live so very badly. The raccoon’s eyes widened a bit as he felt a tightening of his loins aided by the fox’s emotional breakdown. It was time, this little one’s suffering was going to peak now. Pressing down upon the button, Greg watched as the noose around the fox’s neck tightened and pulled upward via the wench secured to the beam above. 

The fox’s legs straightened up as he rose up onto his tiptoes. Greg’s finger raised off the button and hovered, watching in glorious detail as that entire body tensed up, balancing on those little digits and gasping, able to pull just enough breath through the bite of the rope, but it wasn’t going to be enough. Greg sat forward a bit, his back leaving the chair as a hand laid on the back of the otter’s head and pushed it into his loins, sheathing himself in the otter’s suckling mouth. He sat there being blown, watching this poor fox struggling so hard, the stool wobbling back and forth as he shifted weight from one foot to the next, legs straining so hard, growing fear shown in those eyes.

The raccoon’s mouth opened and his tongue slipped out to hang as he lightly panted and gripped the edge of the armrest with his free hand, giving a huff as the clenching throat around his cock. Then it happened, the fox’s balance faltered, the boy’s feet tried to find the stool which was soon knocked out to the side, and the boy’s neck now supporting his entire body. Greg huffed heavily, openly at the sight. Those little legs and footpaws, toes trying to grasp at the edge of the tipped-over stool that it could barely touch. It was right there but it might as well have been a mile away. The boy’s muzzle pointed upward, trying to open, nose flaring, a choke an exhale escaping through his neck but not able to draw any air in. Those limbs start to dance, waving in the air trying to find the floor, trying to feel anything at all to grab onto if he could, but there was nothing. The fox would start to sway from side to side as the final protest of what was happening to him came. 

“Unnnnghhhhhh!!” Greg let out a guttural groan as his manhood erupted into the otter’s throat, his hand mashing that boy’s face down on his loins as if to pin and keep him there as his unblinking eyes savored every last moment of watching the fox’s life fade out of his body. Built-up seed from several days released now in this most exquisite way. Just as the final little twitches of the fox’s feet give and his head cants off to the side, the warm spread of a sexual afterglow washes over his entire body and he leans back into the chair. 

The otter knew the master’s release was done, and gently milked his owner’s member as he backed off it and then without a single word, returned to the kneeling position beside the chair, head down, the taste of the raccoon’s seed and cock fresh on his tongue and in his nose. Greg sat there for a minute and just basked in the way the boy’s body swayed softly, quietly from side to side, and how the torchlight danced over his red and white fur. The pleasure he felt from such a display was truly epic, nothing was more exciting than watching something so beautiful, struggle and die. 

Standing up, the raccoon strode over to the hook on the wall, recovered his robe, tied the belt around his middle, and slipped into his slippers. Walking over to the stairs, he put his foot on the first step and then paused. Without turning around to regard the slave, he only turned his head to the side, not enough to look back at him and said. “Get a younger one for Sunday night.” He didn’t need to wait for an acknowledgment from the otter, he would be obeyed and he knew it. The raccoon made his way upstairs to his bedroom, sexually satisfied, sadistically satisfied for several more days.