{"submission_id":"1637708","keywords":[{"keyword_id":"1426","keyword_name":"abuse","contributed":"f","submissions_count":"1852"},{"keyword_id":"2769","keyword_name":"cbt","contributed":"f","submissions_count":"1210"},{"keyword_id":"12655","keyword_name":"chastity","contributed":"f","submissions_count":"2493"},{"keyword_id":"873","keyword_name":"collar","contributed":"f","submissions_count":"18031"},{"keyword_id":"4659","keyword_name":"crying","contributed":"f","submissions_count":"5446"},{"keyword_id":"25766","keyword_name":"desperation","contributed":"f","submissions_count":"685"},{"keyword_id":"352","keyword_name":"digimon","contributed":"f","submissions_count":"13004"},{"keyword_id":"85548","keyword_name":"disembodied 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10:36:54.776943+02","create_datetime_usertime":"19 Jun 2018 10:36 CEST","thumbnail_url_huge":"https://nl.ib.metapix.net/thumbnails/huge/2336/2336878_parietinae_9122_-_gatomon.jpg","thumbnail_url_large":"https://nl.ib.metapix.net/thumbnails/large/2336/2336878_parietinae_9122_-_gatomon.jpg","thumbnail_url_medium":"https://nl.ib.metapix.net/thumbnails/medium/2336/2336878_parietinae_9122_-_gatomon.jpg","thumb_huge_x":"300","thumb_huge_y":"300","thumb_large_x":"200","thumb_large_y":"200","thumb_medium_x":"120","thumb_medium_y":"120"}],"pools":[],"description":"Encounter 3 of the Slave Preparation series, uh, kinda.\n\nHonestly i’m not sure if or when i’ll ever continue writing. I’d like to, but i hit a serious dead zone when working on this piece, and i feel like i’ve more or less lost what little spark i’d managed to cultivate.\n\nSince i had this first half of the encounter finished and ready though, i figured i might as well post it so that if anyone would enjoy it they’d at least have that chance.\n\nFeel free to let me know what you think 9122’s fate was going to be… i’d like to say maybe something would happen if it’s a better idea than my original plan, but i don’t want to get anyone’s hopes up...\n\n---\n\nThis setting is still inspired by Denton's [url=https://inkbunny.net/s/1121422]Change of Fate[/url] and Icanade's [url=https://inkbunny.net/s/1287699]Magical Nights[/url].\n\ni was planning to edit in when i finished this story, and i really don't know why... but the idea for this story was very much inspired by [url=https://inkbunny.net/s/927056]supremekitten[/url] and his works with insect torture. Sorry for not saying it sooner.\n\nThank you for your time.","description_bbcode_parsed":"Encounter 3 of the Slave Preparation series, uh, kinda.
Honestly i’m not sure if or when i’ll ever continue writing. I’d like to, but i hit a serious dead zone when working on this piece, and i feel like i’ve more or less lost what little spark i’d managed to cultivate.
Since i had this first half of the encounter finished and ready though, i figured i might as well post it so that if anyone would enjoy it they’d at least have that chance.
Feel free to let me know what you think 9122’s fate was going to be… i’d like to say maybe something would happen if it’s a better idea than my original plan, but i don’t want to get anyone’s hopes up...
---
This setting is still inspired by Denton's Change of Fate and Icanade's Magical Nights.
i was planning to edit in when i finished this story, and i really don't know why... but the idea for this story was very much inspired by supremekitten and his works with insect torture. Sorry for not saying it sooner.
Thank you for your time.","writing":"A small white form slowly sat up, almost a perfect match to the vast expanse of emptiness that surrounded him. He didn’t bother looking around, didn’t need to.\n\nHe already knew there was nothing out there except pain. This was his home, after all.\n\nHis hell.\n\nThe feline had been here for as long as he could remember, what little he could remember.\n\nEventually the chime would sound, then the hands would come for him.\n\nThere was no way to know how many times he had been sold; only the most recent few stood out in agonizing clarity. Then there would be another, and one of the previous ones would fade into a foggy mush of a past.\n\nTrembling, he clung to himself with yellow-gloved paws as he waited, sniffing back tears.\n\nHis dick was still throbbing from the last session. A burning ache that sent spikes of pain through his groin every few seconds. Even being away from the machines now, he still felt like he was being torn apart, ready to burst; to shoot a geyser of cum any second.\n\nHe wouldn’t though.\n\nThat was what the client had ordered, and all it had taken was the flip of one little switch on his controls. No cumming.\n\nThen they had spent an entire week bringing him to the edge of orgasm over and over. And over. Their goal had been to edge him as many times as his number, but they hadn’t succeeded. In that time, all they could wring from him was three-thousand, seven-hundred, and five edges.\n\nWhen time had run out, they were laughing, promising they’d just buy him again for longer and start over, since clearly he needed to be punished for failing so miserably.\n\nHe squeezed his arms tighter at the thought, shaking as his dick gave another jolt of pain that went straight through to his tail.\n\nThere was nothing he could do though, he couldn’t even hold it to try and ease the pain. The client had forbidden him to touch himself at all; and their conditions hadn’t been rescinded with the end of the contract.\n\nIt happened fairly often.\n\nThe sound of chimes echoing across the void sent a shiver down his spine, made him squeeze his paws tighter. It was already time again.\n\n“Attention, Slave Nine-One-Two-Two. Your auction has concluded, you will now be prepared according to your buyer’s order, in preparation for shipment.”\n\nHis paws slowly lost grip, falling to his sides as he simply sat and waited.\n\nA dull cracking sound signaled the arrival of the white-gloved hands. He didn’t bother looking up to see what they carried, he always found out anyways, sooner or later.\n\nThere was a thud as a large bucket was set down directly in front of him, it was filled nearly to the top with thick, swollen-looking green leaves. He gulped hard as he couldn’t help staring now, squirming with realization.\n\nHands plunged into the bucket, retrieving fist-fulls of the leaves. Even that small action was enough to rupture some of them, causing clear fluid to leak, dripping between the fingers.\n\nThe effect was immediate as the first hand touched him; searing heat like his coat had been lit on fire, followed by a deep, building itch.\n\nHe squirmed more, whining as more of the hands came, groping him and crushing the engineered ivy against him, scrubbing it into his coat. His entire being cried out to do something, anything to relieve the itch, but he knew better, it wouldn’t help, and he didn’t have permission anyways.\n\nTongue hanging out as he took ragged, pained breaths, the thing that really worried him was that the hands had meticulously avoided spreading any of the resin to his poor abused dick, normally it would have been the first thing they targeted.\n\nInstead the hands kept to his coat, spreading the terrible itch over every single pixel they could reach.\n\nHis gloves were pulled off harshly, a pair of hands each working to crush up as many leaves as they could, stuffing the striped yellow garments with pulped leaflets until they were practically soaked through in the clear fluid. Then they were pulled hard back onto his paws.\n\nHe cried out, sobbing as the pain of the itching shot all the way to his shoulders; his paws were trembling as the excess resin dripped down his arms.\n\nGloves gripped his shoulders and tail, using them to hoist him into a standing position. From there his legs were spread, allowing more of the poisonous leaves to be scrubbed into his butt and thighs. Not even his tail was spared.\n\nHe could barely even stand with how much he itched everywhere, even the soles of his feet, soaking in the ichor that had spilled from the molestation of the rest of his body.\n\nStill not his dick.\n\nHis chest was starting to tighten, his whole body trembling as the sensation threatened to overwhelm him.\n\nThe time was finally right. A pair of clear, plastic panties were brought before him by the hands. He was familiar with these too, but the lack of a diaper prior surprised him further. Usually they weren’t used on their own.\n\nHands lifted his hind-paws carefully, one at a time, helping him step into the panties before drawing them up ever so gently to snug against his crotch. He couldn’t help looking down; shivering as his dick tented out the front panel of the garment, the plastic rubbing against him just enough to remind him of all the edges.\n\nHe shuddered, letting out the tiniest moan despite his agony.\n\nThen the sensation went away as a glove slipped past the front waistband and pulled the panties wide open. Another pair of hands were there too, one holding a small jar, the other unscrewing its lid.\n\nInside of the jar was almost entirely black. Moving. Crawling.\n\nFinished with its dramatic pause, the hand holding the jar upended it into the open panties. Tiny black flecks flitted down; drifting, glinting like some kind of obscene confetti.\n\nIt only took a few seconds from landing on the plastic before they started to move. To swarm.\n\nAnother few seconds later the hand gently lowered the waistband of the panties back into place. By that time his dick was so covered that it was more black than pink. They were on his balls too, and some had even crawled back towards his anus.\n\nThen the biting began.\n\nIt started with one. A taste test. Another followed quickly. Another.\n\nThen the rest.\n\nIt was like needles being stabbed into his dick over and over. The itching followed shortly. Even worse than the poison ivy, it surged through his genitals, bolts of itchy need surging all the way through his body straight to his spine.\n\nNo touching.\n\nAll he could do was watch helplessly as the fleas crawled all over his crotch. Biting. Moving. Biting more.\n\nIn a matter of minutes his dick had already swollen noticeably, a deep, uniform red from the welts that almost completely covered it. The vicious insects didn’t stop though, they just kept biting, new bumps growing on top of old.\n\n“Now beginning Quiz module one. You have ten seconds to provide the correct answer. Failure to answer, or incorrect answers will be punished.”\n\nThe sudden intrusion of the voice startled him, making him jump, trembling. He had never heard it speak other than to announce the end of an auction.\n\n“How many seats make up the Japanese National Diet?”\n\nThe what? He looked around frantically, trying to think. Even if he could figure it out though, he wasn’t allowed to talk. So how would he-\n\n“Time expired. No answer given.”\n\nFor the briefest moment he gulped, feeling the collar tighten around his neck.\n\nHe screamed as the bolt of electricity from it ripped through him. It left his entire body tingling, numb for a few precious seconds before the burning and itching surged back into his awareness.\n\nSobbing, sniffing, he hugged his arms, the hands never had any problem with that. The pressure merely squeezed more of the fluid from inside his gloves, tracing new lines of itching down his forearms as he trembled in place.\n\n“What is the capital of Assyria?”\n\nHe winced, squeezing his arms tighter. Not again.\n\n“Time expired. No answer given.”\n\nWith a heaving sob, he tried to prepare himself. It didn’t help. He still screamed, dropping to his knees when the shock ended.\n\n“What is Angemon’s strongest attack?”\n\nHis head jerked up. He had no idea how, but he actually knew this one! But if he tried to speak, and he wasn’t allowed. But if he didn’t answer.\n\nHe was hesitant, but he couldn’t wait. Time was almost up.\n\n“H-hand o-”\n\nThe electrical discharge went on longer this time, he fell to the ground, body jerking as the air around him crackled.\n\nNo talking.\n\nWhen the numbness finally faded this time the itching came back even stronger than it had been. He couldn’t even feel the pain from the shocks or the biting anymore, the itch had taken over, a need that clawed its way over his entire body, consuming his every second of thought.\n\nHe had to itch, had to scratch it all. No, there wasn’t even time to think that he needed to scratch. Everything itched, and it was still getting worse by the second.\n\nAnother discharge of electricity went off and his vision dimmed, smoke wisping from the tips of his ears.\n\nThe itch just wouldn’t stop.\n\nThere was no time to think of the seconds dragging by, all he knew was his agony, his need. Until finally another shock came, and his consciousness mercifully faded.\n\n[center]---[/center]","writing_bbcode_parsed":"A small white form slowly sat up, almost a perfect match to the vast expanse of emptiness that surrounded him. He didn’t bother looking around, didn’t need to.
He already knew there was nothing out there except pain. This was his home, after all.
His hell.
The feline had been here for as long as he could remember, what little he could remember.
Eventually the chime would sound, then the hands would come for him.
There was no way to know how many times he had been sold; only the most recent few stood out in agonizing clarity. Then there would be another, and one of the previous ones would fade into a foggy mush of a past.
Trembling, he clung to himself with yellow-gloved paws as he waited, sniffing back tears.
His dick was still throbbing from the last session. A burning ache that sent spikes of pain through his groin every few seconds. Even being away from the machines now, he still felt like he was being torn apart, ready to burst; to shoot a geyser of cum any second.
He wouldn’t though.
That was what the client had ordered, and all it had taken was the flip of one little switch on his controls. No cumming.
Then they had spent an entire week bringing him to the edge of orgasm over and over. And over. Their goal had been to edge him as many times as his number, but they hadn’t succeeded. In that time, all they could wring from him was three-thousand, seven-hundred, and five edges.
When time had run out, they were laughing, promising they’d just buy him again for longer and start over, since clearly he needed to be punished for failing so miserably.
He squeezed his arms tighter at the thought, shaking as his dick gave another jolt of pain that went straight through to his tail.
There was nothing he could do though, he couldn’t even hold it to try and ease the pain. The client had forbidden him to touch himself at all; and their conditions hadn’t been rescinded with the end of the contract.
It happened fairly often.
The sound of chimes echoing across the void sent a shiver down his spine, made him squeeze his paws tighter. It was already time again.
“Attention, Slave Nine-One-Two-Two. Your auction has concluded, you will now be prepared according to your buyer’s order, in preparation for shipment.”
His paws slowly lost grip, falling to his sides as he simply sat and waited.
A dull cracking sound signaled the arrival of the white-gloved hands. He didn’t bother looking up to see what they carried, he always found out anyways, sooner or later.
There was a thud as a large bucket was set down directly in front of him, it was filled nearly to the top with thick, swollen-looking green leaves. He gulped hard as he couldn’t help staring now, squirming with realization.
Hands plunged into the bucket, retrieving fist-fulls of the leaves. Even that small action was enough to rupture some of them, causing clear fluid to leak, dripping between the fingers.
The effect was immediate as the first hand touched him; searing heat like his coat had been lit on fire, followed by a deep, building itch.
He squirmed more, whining as more of the hands came, groping him and crushing the engineered ivy against him, scrubbing it into his coat. His entire being cried out to do something, anything to relieve the itch, but he knew better, it wouldn’t help, and he didn’t have permission anyways.
Tongue hanging out as he took ragged, pained breaths, the thing that really worried him was that the hands had meticulously avoided spreading any of the resin to his poor abused dick, normally it would have been the first thing they targeted.
Instead the hands kept to his coat, spreading the terrible itch over every single pixel they could reach.
His gloves were pulled off harshly, a pair of hands each working to crush up as many leaves as they could, stuffing the striped yellow garments with pulped leaflets until they were practically soaked through in the clear fluid. Then they were pulled hard back onto his paws.
He cried out, sobbing as the pain of the itching shot all the way to his shoulders; his paws were trembling as the excess resin dripped down his arms.
Gloves gripped his shoulders and tail, using them to hoist him into a standing position. From there his legs were spread, allowing more of the poisonous leaves to be scrubbed into his butt and thighs. Not even his tail was spared.
He could barely even stand with how much he itched everywhere, even the soles of his feet, soaking in the ichor that had spilled from the molestation of the rest of his body.
Still not his dick.
His chest was starting to tighten, his whole body trembling as the sensation threatened to overwhelm him.
The time was finally right. A pair of clear, plastic panties were brought before him by the hands. He was familiar with these too, but the lack of a diaper prior surprised him further. Usually they weren’t used on their own.
Hands lifted his hind-paws carefully, one at a time, helping him step into the panties before drawing them up ever so gently to snug against his crotch. He couldn’t help looking down; shivering as his dick tented out the front panel of the garment, the plastic rubbing against him just enough to remind him of all the edges.
He shuddered, letting out the tiniest moan despite his agony.
Then the sensation went away as a glove slipped past the front waistband and pulled the panties wide open. Another pair of hands were there too, one holding a small jar, the other unscrewing its lid.
Inside of the jar was almost entirely black. Moving. Crawling.
Finished with its dramatic pause, the hand holding the jar upended it into the open panties. Tiny black flecks flitted down; drifting, glinting like some kind of obscene confetti.
It only took a few seconds from landing on the plastic before they started to move. To swarm.
Another few seconds later the hand gently lowered the waistband of the panties back into place. By that time his dick was so covered that it was more black than pink. They were on his balls too, and some had even crawled back towards his anus.
Then the biting began.
It started with one. A taste test. Another followed quickly. Another.
Then the rest.
It was like needles being stabbed into his dick over and over. The itching followed shortly. Even worse than the poison ivy, it surged through his genitals, bolts of itchy need surging all the way through his body straight to his spine.
No touching.
All he could do was watch helplessly as the fleas crawled all over his crotch. Biting. Moving. Biting more.
In a matter of minutes his dick had already swollen noticeably, a deep, uniform red from the welts that almost completely covered it. The vicious insects didn’t stop though, they just kept biting, new bumps growing on top of old.
“Now beginning Quiz module one. You have ten seconds to provide the correct answer. Failure to answer, or incorrect answers will be punished.”
The sudden intrusion of the voice startled him, making him jump, trembling. He had never heard it speak other than to announce the end of an auction.
“How many seats make up the Japanese National Diet?”
The what? He looked around frantically, trying to think. Even if he could figure it out though, he wasn’t allowed to talk. So how would he-
“Time expired. No answer given.”
For the briefest moment he gulped, feeling the collar tighten around his neck.
He screamed as the bolt of electricity from it ripped through him. It left his entire body tingling, numb for a few precious seconds before the burning and itching surged back into his awareness.
Sobbing, sniffing, he hugged his arms, the hands never had any problem with that. The pressure merely squeezed more of the fluid from inside his gloves, tracing new lines of itching down his forearms as he trembled in place.
“What is the capital of Assyria?”
He winced, squeezing his arms tighter. Not again.
“Time expired. No answer given.”
With a heaving sob, he tried to prepare himself. It didn’t help. He still screamed, dropping to his knees when the shock ended.
“What is Angemon’s strongest attack?”
His head jerked up. He had no idea how, but he actually knew this one! But if he tried to speak, and he wasn’t allowed. But if he didn’t answer.
He was hesitant, but he couldn’t wait. Time was almost up.
“H-hand o-”
The electrical discharge went on longer this time, he fell to the ground, body jerking as the air around him crackled.
No talking.
When the numbness finally faded this time the itching came back even stronger than it had been. He couldn’t even feel the pain from the shocks or the biting anymore, the itch had taken over, a need that clawed its way over his entire body, consuming his every second of thought.
He had to itch, had to scratch it all. No, there wasn’t even time to think that he needed to scratch. Everything itched, and it was still getting worse by the second.
Another discharge of electricity went off and his vision dimmed, smoke wisping from the tips of his ears.
The itch just wouldn’t stop.
There was no time to think of the seconds dragging by, all he knew was his agony, his need. Until finally another shock came, and his consciousness mercifully faded.
---
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