Caged Otter
Prologue
5th of April, 4:30 AM
Somewhere in Ezil
He was galvanized out of his slumber by a sharp pain flaring over his neck, burning his flesh and making him wince. It ached terribly, Nate assumed that he'd fallen asleep in an awkward position. This thought was solidified by every part of his furred body feeling stiff or in ,one way or another, feeling uncomfortable. Couldn't prison beds be made to be somewhat comfortable? Nate questioned in his mind.Then again, perhaps he didn't deserve good sleep, he was on death row after all.
Death row in Ezil international Prison held hundreds of condemned prisoners, they were executed with rapid efficiency which naturally lead to innocents being killed, but still the government refused to stop their brutal policing methods. It was a way of earning money, snuff and rape scenes were broadcast via the dark web to an unspeakable amount of viewers who paid to watch the wicked scene; some undoubtedly got off to it. Nate whimpered, perhaps he was being filmed now? Was he going to die now, was a camera trained on his naked body. Suddenly Nate felt as if he was being watched and so he waited, waited for the sound of a knife being drawn or the sounds of somefur approaching. Nothing happened for minutes and so Nate concluded that he was still on death row, but why was everyfur being so quiet?
Most of Nate's senses didn't return to him, he couldn't see, he couldn't hear and all he could smell was the putrid paste his mother used to apply to his claws to stop him from biting them away. However, nothing could stop him from touching. Nate came up with a plan, if he truly was being filmed, moving his forepaws would indicate that he was awake, but tails naturally moved about when the furson slept. The otter tried to brush his tail along the floor, only to find that his long tail was being restricted by something. It was bent awkwardly towards his back, exposing his tailhole. The whole of his tail was now useless and immobile, he could hardly move the limb without straining himself. Nate chuckled in his mind, the guards must have been playing a practical joke on him. Knowledge of the situation reached him when he tried to stand up, he failed.
Panic spread through him, he couldn't move at all. His arms were tucked against his chest painfully and then tied together by something that was clamped around his wrists along with another object snaked around his deltoids. His legs were in a similar position, bound by the ankles and the thighs. In addition to this, there was something loose thrown over the back of his legs and another one over his arched back. He even had a heavy, steel collar (which was chained to the bottom of something) strangling his frail neck. Nate discovered through the feeling of cold metal on his forepaws that he was in a cage; a small one at that
His mouth was stuffed with something hard like a thanksgiving pig with an apple in its mouth. Nate also felt something sticking into his anus, a butt plug. He tried clenching, hoping to force the intruder out and end his painful erection. Through that he discovered yet another Chasity device, a simple cage that covered his sheath. There was a slit in it, to allow liquids such as piss and cum to escape, but he had no chance of getting an erection. His fleshy cock strained against the plastic, the ridges in it made it painful and so Nate imagined that his penis would deflate soon.
Next he noticed the hood that blocked out most of his remaining senses, the leather blackened his sight and his ears were flattened to his head. He had been blessed with a small slit for breathing through his nose. Regardless, the tightness of the collar around his throat made it hard to breath almost to the point of suffocation. However, the hood wasn't attached, so with enough shaking... The hood slipped from Nate's head!
It was dark in the room, but Nate could make out the bars of his cage and the dripping of water. He felt relieved thanks to his one accomplishment, which was stacked up against all of the other dilemmas. He couldn't escape, but at least he would be able to face his death. Nate's theory about being watched was indeed correct, there was a camera set up in front of him. It was broadcasting and had a perfect view, the viewing panel was turned so that Nate could look at it.
Nate saw that he was fully naked, his fur exposed to the cold air. Fortunately, the sexual heat of having his virginal rear end forced open by an ivory buttplug warmed him ever so slightly. It felt amazing, having his pucker parted by something hard and his prostate teased by the toy. If not for the gag, perhaps he would have been panting.
Nate saw that his ball gag was a haematic red, along with the harness that was connected to his body. The objects that he felt restraining his arms and legs were spreaders, but the name was misleading. These spreaders kept his arms and legs crimped and the bars going from his thighs/deltoids to the harness kept them locked against his body. His tail also attached to the harness, which explained the uncomfortable curve of his limb.
With a sense of false hope, Nate began struggling on his bondage. He bit down on the gag, maybe if it shattered he would be able to cry for help. He managed to rock back and forth, side to side and even up and down, but his restrains would not break so easily. Tears welled up in his eyes and rolled down his white fur until they fell onto the cage's metal with a drip.
Why was somefur doing this to him? Were other fursons really getting off to the sight of his pain, his body, his torture? Perhaps his crying was elevating their pleasure. He was their slave now, maybe there was some sort of poll that they would submit to in order to decide his future. Would they sell him off into slavery or just slaughter him brutally? Or would they stare for a while longer, observing his looks and his matchless body.
The otter in truth was a work of art, perfection almost. His unusual white fur could be seen in the darkness, but it had been sullied by dirt and grime, stained by time. His underbelly was a lighter shade, but it was hard to notice the change without focusing. His green emerald eyes were shut tight out of fear and tiredness, his otter nose scrunched up and repulsed by the smell of what had been smeared onto his black nose.
The mustelid had greasy bangs thanks to his prison sentence, they were short though and didn't cover much of his furred face. They were swept to the left normally, but currently they fell down over his face and obscured his sight. His hair, along with the rest of his fur, was in a ragged state; the prison refused to let him clip his furs. He was growing a brown goatee, but it currently looked more like a grizzled patch than facial fur.
Distracted by his sobbing, Nate hadn't heard a furson entering the room. The camera bleeped off and the lights flickered on, no, the light was too concentrated. Nate tried to see past the beam of light, but whoever held the source was cruel and shone it in Nate's eyes. He stopped looking at the light and kept his head down. Perhaps they would let him go.. "Otter." A manly, low voice growled at him.
Nate tensed, he was terrified of whomever was outside of the cage. He'd read the stories on things like his current his situation. Furs being kidnapped, never to be found again. The suggestions of the fursons' fates were terrible... Raped and stripped of their identities, brainwashed and hypnotized, plunged into a fugue state forever and kept as some form of slave, eaten perhaps. Was he going to be cut up and thrown into some horrid stew?
The otter shuddered as he felt a hand or a forepaw being pressed against his thigh. "Boy..." The voice growled again as if it were incapable of saying more than one word at a time. It squeezed before withdrawing, a cold sensation shot up the otter's spine and sweat dripped down his forehead. Could the furson get into the cage? That was answered quickly.
_Click! _
Nate winced as the door swung open. The straps holding him down were loosened and then he was dragged out onto a hard, stone floor. A hand forced his gagged and bruised face to look up at the monster. It was a male doberman with black and brown fur. Two, brown, menacing eyes in their sockets and a snarling grin on the end of his muzzle. Underneath his tight, black suit s he was made of muscle; pounds and pounds of swollen muscle that would break Nate in an instant. With a muffled voice, Nate managed to beg: "Don't hurt me..."
A snarl escaped the canine's muzzle, "From now on you call me sir, my pet."
Thanks For Reading!
As always please tell me if you found any mistakes! ^)^
Story, Characters and Locations © Kalebthecat