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Everyone in the world had their own idea of how far a concept could be taken.

The farthest of freedoms carried the opposite of slavery. The greatest of joys were combated by the worst of tragedies. Periods of terrible violence were followed by calm, tranquil peace.

"You really thought I was gonna go easy on you, huh? Heh... not a chance, boy. You knew what you were getting into when you signed up for this."

Then, there were people like Rivard, who couldn't quiet tell the difference between such positive and negatives. In his mind, abuse wasn't something to be feared...it was something to be relished, in any and all of its forms, and there was no one better than Zack at dishing out true, unrelenting punishment.

"B-but...I thought Exile said you were going to be n-nice to me?"

"Sounds like your friend might have lied to you," Zack replied calmly, as he closed the door to his apartment and locked it shut. As usual, the doberman kept his small room in a state of total disarray, showing no respect for the few guests that he ever allowed over. "Then again, he might be the only person I've ever gone easy on."

Rivard couldn't help a quiet, nervous gulp. He'd been through the rigors of some of the most dominant people he knew, but rumors swirled about just how cruel Zack could really be, and he had nothing to base them on, short of an account from Exile himself, who admitted to being rather sore in several places after just a quick half hour in the apartment.

The fool-hearty otter made the mistake of signing up for much more time than that. While partying at the same campus as Zack, he'd been matched up with the doberman on a hook-up app, and made the mistake of advertising himself as being 'up for anything.'

Already, Zack was looking upon Rivard with a darkness in his eyes. The otter couldn't begin to fathom where a well-to-do canine with a fairly easy life would have picked up such a ferocious attitude, but as nervous as he was on the surface, his heart was already thumping heavily within his chest, eager to see just how far Zack might push him.

After all, he knew nothing about Zack's methods.

"You don't seem to have a lot to say, Rivard. Too nervous to even reply?"

Another subtle gulp bubbled up in Rivard's throat as he looked up from the couch. He'd picked a simple, fishnet tank top and a pair of jean shorts as his attire for the 'date,' and he wasn't surprised that Zack barely had the sense to throw on a pair of jeans, and nothing more...somehow, this entire set up felt like it was more of an inconvenience to Zack, as if he resented the otter for coming over in the first place.

Judging by his actions, the concept might not be too far from the truth. "If you don't hurry up and say something," Zack paused, as he stepped back into the living room, picking up a pair of boxers that had been laying on the floor for an untold amount of time, "You're gonna get to say anything at all."

Rivard started to open his mouth, but he immediately felt foolish, as the dirty, used boxers filled up his muzzle and sat upon his tongue, coating it with the dulled, and yet entirely pungent taste of Zack's unwashed body. His eyes went wide as he tried to breathe, and as just enough air made it through the thin, smooth fabric, his eyes lidded over as he found himself intoxicated by the powerful, delightful musk. He couldn't even hope to escape it...but he also couldn't ignore the fact that Zack was narrowing his eyes, right in his direction.

"...You're not supposed to enjoy this, you twisted fucking pervert."

WHACK! Rivard winced an eye shut as he felt the thick, angry knuckles of the doberman raked across the side of his cheek in a backhanded slap. His cheek turned a bright, radiant red in an instant, and he reached up to clutch at it, only to feel a tight grip around his wrist, forcing it back down to his side. Looming over the meek otter, Zack gritted his fangs a little bit and tightened his grip around Rivard's wrist, squeezing it to the point that Rivard groaned in discomfort around the boxers in his muzzle.

"But that's just the type you are, isn't it? It wouldn't matter if I sat here all day and beat your ass black and blue...you'd love every second of it, and all told, I'd just be exhausted from the effort...so what good would that do? Hell, the best punishment for an otter like you is no punishment at all."

This time, the whimper wasn't caused by any sort of physical pain, but by pure, emotional desperation. Rivard's eyes turned glassy as Zack kept his wrist held down to the couch, and the otter sniffled just a little as the pain faded into the delicious, slow burn that faded away just a little bit with each passing second. He'd been given a mere taste of what Zack was capable of, and even if he wasn't sure that he could really handle such a controlling, dominant canine, he'd never been more eager to try.

"Like I told your buddy, I'm not so much of a fan of being held down...so I'm not gonna let you off that easily. If you want me to really give this all I've got, you're not agreeing to just one little afternoon of fun. You're going to be my pet...no, you're going to be my property. I've already got your phone number...and I won't be letting you off the hook. You will answer when I call, anywhere, anytime, no matter what the occasion...if your little fucking sister is getting married, you'll march your ass off of that altar and come running...understood?"

Rivard could feel his heart sinking down into the depths of his stomach, settling right in next to the butterflies that were gathering there. Such a powerful declaration was enough to set his long, thick tail into a rapid swish, but he couldn't reach up to pull the boxers from his maw. He could only nod rapidly, at least, until Zack gripped his chin with his free paw and held his head steady.

"Good. It's not gonna be enough to just nod like a dipshit and act like you're happy about it, though...you're my property now, right?"

Again, Rivard gave a nod, though more subtle in nature.

"Then I'll have to officially stake my claim. I've never had the pleasure of doing this before, but trust me, that doesn't make you special...it makes you the most worthless piece of filth I've ever pointed my dick at, really."

Ears went flat as the otter tilted his head just slightly. His curiosity wouldn't have to wait long to be sated, as Zack stood upright from the couch and unzipped his jeans, pulling them down just slightly to show off his sheath, and although the bright, reddish-pink tip of his canine cock was already beginning to wiggle free, it wasn't a matter of arousal, as Rivard quickly found out.

Warm, golden and mildly salty, Rivard shuddered as Zack shamelessly held his cock in place and aimed it upon the otter, spilling the long, heated streak of his urine upon the aquatic creature. He made it clear just how little he cared about his apartment, or about anyone who would be willing to sink to such a level, as he cupped his balls and relaxed himself, letting out a drawn, exaggerated sigh of relief.

"Mnn...aaaaah, yes. I sure hope you don't mind this treatment, because you're gonna be waking up to it every fucking day, otter...and if you really tick me off, you'll spend the day in the bath tub, until I've literally showered you in it."

Rivard shook fearfully on the couch as the golden stream spilled over his tank top and began to soak his shorts, warming him for a moment, until the liquid began to cool upon his fur. Orally, he couldn't get away from the taste of the clothing that Zack had worn before, but his nostrils were filled with a scent that was somehow as dominant as it was salty and acrid. Just the thought of what was being done to him was enough to create a stirring in Rivard's own boxers, as his cock began to strain against the tight fabric of his jeans, but he didn't dare to act on it: he could already see a devious snicker building on Zack's lips as the canine finally emptied the last of his bladder onto the willing vector that was Rivard.

Soaking wet and looking up with a genuine fear in his eyes, Rivard gasped into the boxers in his muzzle as Zack wasted no time in leaning over again. His claws dug right into the gaps of the fishnet top and tore the weak fabric apart, wanting Rivard to know that anything he considered valuable would be worthless in his eyes.

"I could free that wimpy little cock...I could cut those shorts open in the front and release it, but...I'd rather let you suffer. I know you're stiff as a board...bet that cock is just dying to get free, isn't it?" Zack asked, snickering just a little as Rivard wiggled about on the couch. "Real shame that you haven't earned such a right...and I doubt you ever will."

The abuse was more than Rivard could take without getting excited, but freedom would have been a welcome relief for the otter, who winced and whimpered as his member strained against his already painfully tight shorts. He knew that no relief was coming, but he didn't expect things to turn as they did, as Zack gripped the otter by the hips and flipped him over with surprising ease; the canine was even stronger than he looked.

Flipped over onto his stomach, flattened out on the couch, Rivard grunted in pain as his chin slammed down against the arm of the cheap furniture. There was hardly any cushion left on the couch to begin with, and the cheap wood of the frame left his jaw sinking into a dull, deep pain, with only the disgusting, dirty boxers in his muzzle to chew on for relief. He never managed to catch himself with his paws, but they weren't free for long, as Zack gripped the wrists of the submissive creature and yanked his arms back forcefully, to the point that Rivard worried they might come out of their sockets.

"Sorry about your jaw...that's gotta sting...and your poor little junk is all smashed up under your tummy! Real shame you can't put it to any better use," Zack taunted Rivard every step of the way, treating him as little more than a sounding board for his own, physically expressed frustration. The doberman was relentless as he gripped a belt from the floor and wrapped the tight leather around Rivard's wrists, keeping them pinned behind his back as the otter struggled, entirely in vain, against the urine-soaked cushions of the couch. "But there's still one part of you that could prove very useful to me after all..."

Being trapped was always an exciting moment for Rivard, and this time, he knew that there wasn't even a hope of escape, but a legitimate fear began to creep up from the base of his spine as he felt claws piercing into the thick fabric of his shorts. Those sharp, dangerous edges pressed against Rivard's backside until he felt fabric ripping away from itself, leaving the back of his shorts in a tattered state, as claws erratically moved across his fur, raking through the soft, brown fur with ease and leaving deep, red scratches on the curve of the otter's rump.

The tiniest specks of blood kicked up from the deep course of the claws, and Rivard winced his eyes shut tight, whimpering fearfully as he realized that Zack didn't scratch him by accident; it was purely for the twisted enjoyment of the doberman, as he ran his paws up along the base of the otter's back, leaving further, deeper cuts in his flesh and marking him in a much deeper manner than scent alone. He wasn't sure when the wounds would heal, but they seared upon his back like the tongues of devilish flames, as if he were meat being tossed around on a heated grill.

"Looks like you're finally learning to take me seriously, Rivard. It's a shame that I'm having such a good time beating your tight, little ass...I was hoping you'd be more of a slow learner, bruh."

That casual, ridiculous term was still liable to turn up in Zack's vocabulary, even in this most heated and twisted of moments. Even as he said it, he was still snickering, and even as his paw came down upon fresh claw marks with a harsh, domineering SMACK, he was grinning like a child on their birthday. He didn't feel even a hint of remorse as Rivard groaned, his voice coming out a shrill, pained squeak.

"Hnnn! Mnnnnf!" the otter cried out, unable to complete a thought around his makeshift gag. It would have been a terrible fate for many, and even as it was, Rivard was unsure if he was truly safe in the paws of the sadistic doberman...and it was a rush. He'd been in so many encounters before where his safety was guaranteed, no matter what the outcome was going to be...he would easily walk away from the encounter. He'd be exhausted, and perhaps even humiliated, but he'd be all right.

This time, he didn't have that promise, and the utter thrill of such risky, genuinely dangerous sex was driving him wild.

"Oh well...I'm just gonna have to treat you like the sick, masochistic scum that you are," Zack continued on, ignoring the muffled cries of desperation from the otter on his couch. Rivard could already feel the bruises forming on his cheek and his chin, and his head was still spinning just slightly from the harsh landing on the arm of the couch, but through it all, a single drop of pure, concentrated lust was running down the back of his throat and into the pit of his stomach, spurring him on to take whatever Zack could throw at him, no matter how great the risk was. "I'm guessing lube would be a waste of time for someone like you, but if it's totally dry, that isn't really fun for me, either."

Hooooooock... Zack tilted his head back slightly, letting the gurgling fluids of his saliva build up in the back of his throat, before he tipped his head forward and launched a large wad of the white, frothy liquid right onto the dry, waiting pucker between Rivard's perked, beaten cheeks. He shuddered with delight as he felt that moisture seeping in to the tight passage of his anus, but he didn't have long to focus on the sensation. He'd already been able to feel the delicious warmth of Zack's cock emerging on the crest of his backside, and the slow, oozing drool of precum that spilled right under the rudder of his tail...but his focus quickly turned as Zack gripped the base of his own long, impressive member and lined up the tapered, canine tip with Rivard's mostly untouched tailhole.

"I could just sit here...just sit here and beat the living shit out of your whiny, pathetic ass and never even bother to penetrate you...you're just in luck that I'm in a bit of a dry spell," Zack admitted, as he painfully forced the tip of his cock deep inside of Rivard with a single, bucking thrust. He didn't so much as let out a breath, but Rivard's eyes went wide, and tears welled up in the corners as he bit down tightly on his gag, unable to prepare for the sheer girth of the canine's shaft. "Doesn't mean you're off the hook, though. You're still my property, and I've got a lot more frustrations to work out on you tonight, you skanky little bitch."

Rivard truly couldn't have dreamed of a better partner. It was as if someone cut Zack right out his imagination and brought him to life, purely to satiate the masochistic desires of the submissive otter. He was in the most delightful kind of pain as Zack continued to press his cock forth with minimal lubrication, and though it sounded like a whimper of pain, Rivard was squealing in delight as the sharp, deadly claws of the doberman gripped at the base of his thick, rudder tail and dug in, leaving deep, scarlet marks in the flesh as Zack held on, using the tail as leverage to press his manhood even further into the pinned otter.

It might not have been the average concept of heaven, but for Rivard, he could imagine no other place on earth that he'd rather be.

Zack, on the other hand, actually raised a brow. Literally every partner he'd ever slept with had a breaking point, somewhere along the line, but as the thrusts continued to pile up, and familiar, budding pleasure grew in the base of his shaft and the heavy, swollen orbs in his sack, he found that Rivard was responding even more positively than before. He could feel the tight, clenching inner walls of the otter's tailhole squeezing with all of the effort that they could muster, desperate to feel the soaking, thick milk of the canine across his insides, and though he was exhausted from the earlier abuse, Rivard still bucked his hips back to meet with Zack on each pass.

In one sense, it was a riveting and thrilling sensation for Zack to finally meet someone who could take everything that he dished out.

On the other hand, it was infuriating for someone to actually be enjoying their time with the doberman; Zack was a sadist to the fullest sense of the word, and if Rivard wasn't actually suffering, then Zack wouldn't be truly satisfied.

"You really think I'm gonna give you what you want?" Zack asked, knowing that Rivard couldn't say it, but his body made it clear where he wanted the canine cum shot to go. "You're not worthy of having my cum inside of you yet, bruh...not even close. You've got a long way to go before I even let you taste the stuff!"

A sudden, harsh pull left Rivard's once tight pucker gaping wide and squeezing around nothing more than the passing air. Zack's cock throbbed outside of the abused passage, and he easily could have stuffed his length back in to finish, but he wouldn't give Rivard that satisfaction. He finally felt some of that sensation for himself as Rivard whined with need, and he continued on with taunting the poor otter as he gripped Rivard tightly by the ear and yanked his face away from the arm of the couch, sending a terrible jolt of pain through the back of the otter's head. "Poor little slutty otter thinks he's gonna get a big, tasty creampie...no fucking way, you little bitch," he murmured, as he forcefully slapped the otter on the bridge of his muzzle with the thick, reddish pink flesh of his rod. The contact actually stung Rivard, leaving the otter to wonder if it might have hurt Zack, as well, but another source of pain refused to let him stay focused, as Zack gripped the tufts of green headfur between Rivard's ears and tugged up fiercely, holding the poor otter's head upright purely by the hair on his head.

This level of pain, Rivard wasn't prepared for, and with his other paw, Zack began stroking his own cock, milking out thick, heavy streams of precum. The drops fell upon the bridge of Rivard's muzzle until the canine was on the verge, but he didn't give Rivard any warning.

He simply gritted his fangs together as a sudden torrent of hot, sticky cum sprayed across Rivard's face, soaking his muzzle and landing right between his eyes. The otter didn't quite have a chance to close them before some of the slick, creamy ejaculate landed right upon his irises, and though it took a moment to set in, a sharp, stinging sensation began to radiate back from his eyeballs as he winced them tightly shut, denying himself the glorious view of streak after streak of delicious, canine cum.

"Y-yeah...doesn't feel so great, d-does it?" Zack asked, stammering out and panting quietly through his orgasm as he milked the very last of his own seed from his member. White, sticky mess was spilling down over Rivard's neck as Zack gave up on his efforts and released the otter, letting him crash down on the couch unceremoniously, still coated in a mixture of the different fluids that Zack had offered him. "Takes forever to wash that stuff out of your eyes. Real shame you're not going anywhere just yet."

Rivard managed to blink an eye open, his expression washed over with as much concern as it was with seed. "Don't tell me you thought you were just gonna go wash off and be on your way! Pfft... nah, bruh. You're way too much fun. I'm not nearly done breaking you in...I can see some fight in your eyes, still. We'll get to work on that tomorrow."

Tomorrow? Rivard wondered, and his brow cocked slightly, before he noticed a long, thick length of chain on the floor, one that was buried under the different, dirty clothes that Zack left lying around. The doberman snickered as he gathered up the chain and wrapped it tightly around Rivard's neck, finding the otter didn't quite have the energy to make a run for it. The other end of the length was dragged over to the entertainment center, and Zack wrapped the links around the legs of the furniture, making sure that Rivard had just enough room to wiggle, and nothing more. With his paws tied, he wouldn't be able to make it to the entertainment center, regardless.

"You just lay there and think about what you've done...think about what you've gotten yourself into, bruh. It only gets worse from here," Zack confirmed, as he began to pull his pants on and head for the door. "I'm gonna go grab some dinner. You...you can go hungry."

WHAM! Just that quickly, Zack was gone, and Rivard was trapped in the apartment of a stranger, beaten and abused, left to starve for the night, still covered in drying semen and cooled urine. Dull, radiating pain and sharp stings rung out across his body, and he was sure that he'd pass out from exhaustion soon.

He followed orders, however, and thought about his predicament while Zack was out and about...and faded into the sweetest dreams that an otter could have, of just what Zack might do when he finally returned home.

An otter couldn't ask for more, Zack...