Cookie Pt. 07

Tanner awoke in a sweaty tangle of sheets, staring up at a ceiling fan rotating lazily beneath the cracked ceiling of Marta's room. A quick pat of the bed beside him showed that his host was already up and gone.

He had been staying here ever since Mr. Svenson kicked him out, and although he had never liked the seedy old apartment that Amelia's father had rented, the cramped house that Marta shared with her mother and two brothers was even less appealing. He knew better than to complain. Mr. Svenson had been dead serious about kicking him out, and if Marta hadn't let him stay with her, he would have been out on the streets, if not out of the country.

It took him a second to realize why he had woken up. A heated conversation in Spanish between two furious feminine voices was drifting down the hall, barely muffled by the thin door between them. Tanner winced. He could guess what they were arguing about.

A moment later, Marta flung open the door, wearing only a towel, her dark hair wet and stringy. For a moment her eyes blazed with annoyance, but then she caught Tanner's gaze, and her mouth pulled up into a little smirk. "Well, well, look who's up," she chuckled, slamming the door behind her. "The little gringito who is apparently corrupting me."

Tanner winced. "Ah. So I gather your mom isn't too happy about me staying here."

Marta snorted and rolled her eyes. "Ugh. I need to move out myself, and soon. If you think Mama is upset, wait until you find out what my two brothers have been talking about doing to you. They're all convinced that you and I are back here fucking like rabbits all day every day." She gave him a shark-like grin, choosing that moment to drop her towel and reveal her deliciously naked, caramel-toned body. "Speaking of which... get over here. Time to pay the rent."

Tanner wished, for the sake of his dignity, that he could say he hesitated. Even a little. But his hungry eyes were locked to Marta's full tits and the wide curve of her hips. He knew he shouldn't be so addicted to Marta when he was supposed to be here for Amelia, but he couldn't help it. Something about her was just intoxicating to him.

One of Marta's stipulations for letting him stay with her was that he do whatever she said, whenever she said it. And, much to Tanner's secret delight, that had usually amounted to sexual favors. He and Marta had still never had real, penetrative sex, but they had done almost anything else Tanner could possibly imagine. Tanner jumped up off the bed and approached the curvy little woman that he had been sleeping with for the past week.

Tanner could see the fire in Marta's eyes as he approached her, and felt an answering heat spark inside of him. The two of them didn't have anything close to what he would consider a relationship. He was just a lost soul who was desperately trying to do the impossible. She was a hard woman who wanted to repay a debt. But their proximity and sexual chemistry were enough. It felt like they were drawn together like magnets. Maybe they weren't "fucking like rabbits" like Marta's mother thought, but that was only because Marta had resolutely enforced her ban on actual intercourse until Tanner agreed to give up his search for Amelia. They spent every night exploring each other's bodies in the little cramped twin bed that Marta called her own.

As Tanner crossed the room to Marta, his pulse pumping and his cock throbbing to life in his pants, he couldn't keep his eyes off her body. She stood with easy confidence, thrusting her chest forward as if to present her large, natural tits for his inspection. Their dusky nipples were already erect, boldly declaring her arousal. His eyes wandered downward, between Marta's spread thighs. Marta kept a strip of hair above her pussy, unlike Amelia, who had always gone fully smooth. It drew the eye, focusing his gaze as it traveled further down to her juicy, swollen lower lips.

"I see what you're looking at," said Marta with a grin. "Well... Why don't you get a closer look?" She reached up and gripped Tanner's hair, dragging him down sharply to his knees. Tanner suppressed a yelp of surprise and pain... even if Marta clearly didn't care all that much, he would much rather avoid making loud noises during sex and making her family hate him even more.

He didn't have time to worry about that though. Not when Marta was spreading her legs and pulling him forward greedily, pressing her hot, wet pussy against his mouth. This had become a morning routine at this point. Marta would shower, then make Tanner eat out her pussy until she came, no matter how long that took.

Luckily, he had actually gotten pretty good at it.

Staring up into Marta's dark, heated gaze, Tanner extended his tongue and traced every fold of Marta's hot cunt. He worked slowly. Worshipfully. On his knees with his face buried between her thighs. This was the way to get Marta to cum. Diving straight for the clit was counter-productive. She needed to be warmed up first.

"Mmmmm," hummed Marta, closing her eyes and beginning to gently grind her hips against Tanner's face, "I think we finally found a skill you excel at, Gringito. Fuck... maybe this is what you should do for a living. You're a lot better at licking pussy than you are at rescuing people."

Tanner ignored her little barb as he focused on heating up her juicy pussy, feeling the lust roar through him. Even if it was wrong to become this sexually involved with someone else when he should be focused on Amelia, he needed something to relieve his endless stress and boredom. So he applied a little more suction, circling Marta's throbbing clit with his eager tongue and focusing on the strain of her muscles as she ground her hips forward into his face. He had become pretty good at telling exactly when Marta was going to cum, and even though he had only begun a few minutes before, he could tell that she was already on the edge.

"That's it, you little bitch," hissed Marta, thrusting her hips to rub her hot, wet cunt all over Tanner's face, "Eat me out. Why do you even need that silly bitch when you have a fine pussy like this just waiting for that little cock of yours? All you have to do is say yes... we don't even have to bother with that stupid party."

Tanner didn't reply. Marta said this kind of thing so often now that he barely even heard what she was saying. He just focused his energy completely on his lips and tongue, sucking and slurping and licking as he felt Marta's body wind up to the breaking point. And then, right when he predicted, she orgasmed, letting out moans that he thought were probably too loud for decency as her thighs trembled and her pussy pulsed around his licking tongue. Her fingers tightened on his hair for a moment, pressing him so close he could no longer breathe...

Then she released him, letting him fall back to the floor, eyes dazed and face slick with her juices.

His cock was nearly bursting out of his boxers at that point, desperate for his turn for release. He scrambled to his feet, shucking his boxers down to his knees and allowing his stiff cock to bounce out into the open air. He felt a slight twinge of discomfort that Marta's family knew the kinds of things they were doing back in her room. But that couldn't stop him now. Not when he had just tongue-fucked Marta to completion.

Marta was usually willing to repay his service in kind, but for some reason today she just scoffed and reached out to give the tip of his cock a sharp little flick with her finger. "Not today, Gringito."

Tanner stared at her open-mouthed, confused and frustrated, cock throbbing with impotent lust. "What?" he asked blankly. "But... why?"

"Because we have a party to go to tonight, and I want you to be..." Her eyes flicked up and down Tanner's body, lingering for a moment on his cock, "... full of energy tonight."

That sent Tanner straight from annoyed lust to nervous excitement. "Wait, really? Tonight?" It had been what he had been waiting for all week. It was shocking to have the moment here all of a sudden.

"Tonight," said Marta with a sharp nod as she slipped on a bra, fastening it behind her. Her dark eyes found him, full of the same nervous energy he felt building inside himself despite her recent orgasm. "And remember. You promised that you would do everything that I said."

...

Cookie awoke late in the morning and stretched luxuriously on her pet bed. Another perfect day in paradise. After her stretch, she stood. These days, she normally moves around on all fours, of course, but her master made some allowances for her during her morning routine so she could get ready more efficiently.

Cookie had thought at first that she would enjoy a little time in the morning where she got to feel like a human: brushing her teeth, taking a shower, shaving her legs and pussy. But she actually found it to be a little uncomfortable. It reminded her of what she had once been, instead of the way her life was now. It was much better when she was just acting as her master's cat. Then she didn't have to think at all. She could just let her instincts run wild.

It had been a few weeks since the master had completely tamed her. A few days after she had given in completely - all spent in a delirious haze of joyful fucking with her new owner, of course - Oscar had taken her home with him on the speedboat, and Cookie had left behind the villa that had transformed her completely.

There was one mad moment of final desperation where Amelia had risen up inside her and considered trying to bolt on the short walk from the dock to the waiting black SUV. But she had known that she wouldn't make it far. And besides, the impulse was weak and anemic... nothing compared to her growing devotion to her master. In the end, it had just felt easier to walk meekly at his side, accepting the new life he had promised her.

And, to be fair, Oscar never would have brought her to his mansion if he wasn't confident that her spirit was completely broken.

When she had finished her shower and skincare routine, Cookie dressed for the day. She ran her hands over the selection of tails and ears available to her, and decided that today, she would be a black cat. She slipped on the slim black ears, and picked out a matching black leather collar with her new name emblazoned on the side in sequins. She also got a set of black kneepads; a new addition to the outfit. Since she was supposed to go around on all fours now, her master had been merciful and allowed her to wear them. He was such a good owner.

The tail, as usual, took a little extra work. Cookie was forced to arch her back up and work it slowly into her asshole, using plenty of lube. Her ass was still so tight that it was a struggle every day. Not to mention the fact that they needed a big enough plug to ensure it would stay in. But she had come to enjoy her daily ritual of rubbing her pussy while slowly working the butt plug inside her asshole. It helped to focus her and warm her up for the day of slutty service.

By the time her tail finally slipped inside, Cookie was primed and ready to go. This time when she got up off her bed, she no longer walked. The uncomfortable in-between time of the morning where she acted human for long enough to get ready was over. Now she was just Cookie, the slutty little kitty.

Cookie pushed her way out of the small room she had been granted in Oscar's mansion and prowled in a slinky feline crawl out into the morning sunshine. A maid nearby gasped and jumped a little as she crawled out the door, staring down at Cookie with her eyes wide in alarm. Cookie did her best not to cringe back from the obvious fascinated disgust on the woman's face as a wave of stinging humiliation washed over her. No matter how sexually fulfilling her new life was, this was definitely the hardest part. At the villa, the only person who had known how far she had fallen was Oscar and whatever small staff watched her through the cameras. But at least she had never made contact with that staff.

Here, Oscar had maids, waiters, armed guards, and guests coming in and out of the mansion every day. And all of them could see exactly what a sexual laughingstock Cookie had become. Her shame was unavoidable. Even with instructions to the staff that she should be treated as the master's beloved pet, Cookie felt their eyes lingering on her naked form as she crawled through the house, focusing in on her hanging tits... the shaved pussy peeking out behind her swishing tail.

Their disgusted, lustful eyes filled her with perverse heat. A constant reminder of how far she had fallen. She couldn't help but notice the bulges in the pants of the guardsmen when she slunk by them. She wasn't just the master's degraded sex kitten; she was an object of lust to anyone in the household attracted to women. And yet she was utterly safe. Everyone from Oscar's closest lieutenants to the lowliest hired hand knew that she was Oscar Van Heel's personal property. She knew it as well. And that wicked thought alone made her spend most of her days here in the mansion with juices leaking down her thighs and her nipples achingly stiff.

She stared up at the maid now, and some old instinct of Amelia inside her begged her to say something. To reassure the maid that she was a person. Someone who was trapped. The woman even looked more sympathetic than many of the other members of the household. Maybe she could be a connection who could help Cookie escape.

But Cookie was beyond that now. The voice of Amelia inside her was faint and weak. She crawled forward toward the woman, eyes upturned, and meowed. She was getting good at it now. Her voice carried a realistic feline yowl. Then, with a part of her inside still burning with the overwhelming shame of how far she had been corrupted, she butted one cheek against the woman's leg, just like a good, friendly little kitty should. She could instantly see that spark of empathy snuff out in the woman's eyes. She no longer saw Cookie as a victim. She now saw the dressed-up woman on her hands and knees as a depraved pervert. And Cookie couldn't really say that impression was wrong.

Slowly, hesitantly, the maid reached down and ran a hand over the smooth, naked skin of Cookie's back, sending a shiver up her spine. "Good kitty," said the woman with a disdainful twist of her lip. Then she straightened up and hurried away back to her task with just one more lingering glance behind her at the horny, degraded slut on the ground.

Cookie swallowed her shame and continued on, moving down the stairs in search of her master. She wondered if eventually she would get so used to her condition it wouldn't embarrass her at all anymore. She suspected not. It was just too great a humiliation to ever be truly used to it. But the twisted shame of being a human pet was its own reward. Her body already pulsed with a desperate heat as she prowled through the mansion, her pussy already hungry for her master's cock.

Sadly, after they had come back to his mansion, Oscar could no longer spend all of his time with his new pet. In fact, it appeared that he had a good deal of catching up to do after spending so much time on the island. His days had been spent either traveling away from the mansion or holding endless meetings in his private office, and Cookie was only allowed back there when no one else was present. That gave Cookie a lot of free time to lounge around the house. She spent it mostly watching pornography on Oscar's large screen TV and masturbating herself into oblivion with her dildo shaped like her master's cock, much like she had in the villa.

She knew that it drove the armed guards crazy when they watched her endlessly rubbing and writhing and moaning on the couch. But she also knew they weren't allowed to touch her, so it was a pretty amusing game.

There was no sign of Oscar around the kitchen, and the door to his bedroom and private office were both open, which meant that he was likely away from the house on business. Cookie felt a sinking feeling of disappointment at the revelation. Oscar fucked her hard every night, but sometimes if she caught him in the morning, she could squeeze a morning quickie out of him as well. It looked like she was out of luck for today.

She slunk toward the lounge in a bad mood, casting a sullen glance at the two armed guards at the front door on her way. Maybe she would put on a masturbation show in front of them later just to work off some of her frustration. Misery loves company after all. But as she approached the lounge, prepared to get started with another day of mind-draining orgasms, she heard voices. Her heart thrilled and her pussy tingled as she recognized the deep, confident tones of her owner. It was unusual for him to be using the lounge like this during the day... and for a moment Cookie hesitated to make her way through the open doorway. Generally she wasn't allowed to intrude when Oscar was holding business meetings. But maybe it was different today since he was in the lounge?

She decided to risk it, crawling through the door with a little jingle of the tags on her collar.

Oscar was lounging back on the leather sofa with a dark-skinned man wearing some sort of military uniform, but looked up as soon as Cookie entered. "Aha!" he said with a dangerous smile that sent a blade of aroused terror lancing through her. "Speak of the devil. Get over here, Cookie. I have someone who is just dying to meet you."

The tone of his voice immediately let Cookie know that something was wrong, but she didn't know exactly what until the man sitting next to Oscar turned with a look of incredulous curiosity on his wrinkled face.

Cookie's heart nearly stopped. She stood there, frozen on her hands and knees as she looked into the eyes of Pascal Mavinga.

She had never met him face to face before this moment, but she had seen countless hours of footage and hundreds of photographs of him. She would know him anywhere. The ruthless warlord that she had written her first big article on. And based on the fact that she had exposed his network of fake charity organizations and cut off a major revenue stream for him, she was willing to bet that he recognised her as well. She saw the recognition flicker in his yellowed eyes, a flash of dull, mean rage building there... and then complicated with a twist of lust as he comprehended her nudity and degraded state. Cookie shivered in an odd blend of disgust and submissive arousal as his eyes roamed her body.

He was a monster just as much as Oscar was. A different kind of monster, and maybe worse. Standing up to Mavinga and taking him down had been one of the proudest moments in Amelia's life. And now here she was, humbled and defeated, naked in front of him. Wearing fucking cat ears and a butt plug. There were no words for the humiliation. For a moment, it even scorched away the comfortable sexual haze she had been living in since Oscar had fully dominated her.

Oscar's voice was the only thing that could call her out of the depths of burning shame. "Come on now, Cookie," he said mildly. "Come and meet our guest." Cookie finally tore her eyes away from Mavinga, a man that she had never dreamed she would one day meet. A man she had hoped to never meet, and locked eyes with Oscar once again. She read in his dark, burning gaze that this was yet another game for him. A way to wring even more humiliation and degradation from her.

And, in recognizing that, Cookie realized she had already lost this battle. She couldn't go against Oscar's wishes anymore, no matter how degrading they might be. That ship had sailed when she had pledged herself body and soul to be his pet. Her spirit was broken, and they both knew it. He had no doubt called Mavinga here as one more twist of the knife. And even though she knew that, she had no choice but to willingly accept it.

With every nerve of her body tingling with shame, Cookie slowly crawled forward toward the two men waiting on the couch. But, despite her beet red, blushing face, Cookie found herself roaring with heated arousal. Her nipples throbbed with unbearable stiffness before the eyes of her most and second most hated men in the world, and her pussy ached with needy heat. The twisted fruits of Oscar's training bloomed inside her: the very fact that she hated this so much was what made it so arousing. Because Oscar was commanding her to do it.

As she came forward, Mavinga's face split wide into a yellowed grin and he let out a rasping laugh. "By God," he said, taking a massive swig of the brown liquor Oscar had poured for them despite the fact it was still morning. "You madman! It's true. I can't believe it, but it's true. You actually got the little bitch to be your personal whore. You were right that it would be worth my long trip."

Cookie paused at Oscar's feet and sat back on her haunches, staring up at him with nervous devotion. She knew what to expect from her master. For a murderous criminal, Oscar was surprisingly even-tempered. But Mavinga radiated malice at Oscar's side. Pascal Mavinga wasn't the type to get revenge in a cruel but artful way like Oscar, and she could feel his anger and disdain for her like a physical weight. But Oscar seemed either to not notice or not care about the way his guest was glaring at his pet. He reached down and pet Cookie's head, scratching fondly behind her ears. "Isn't she just the cutest little kitty?"

"Charming," said Mavinga with a sharklike grin. "As always, you have good taste, my friend."

"Here, let's have a better look at her," said Oscar briskly. "It's the least I could do for a guest. Especially one who has such a... long history with my pet. I don't normally let her up on the furniture, of course, but I can make a special exception in this case."

Cookie knew when she was receiving an order, even when Oscar didn't phrase it directly. She had hoped that she would be able to leap up to Oscar's other side and put him between her and Mavinga, but Oscar had other plans. He scooted to the side, patting the sofa between him and the grinning fiend.

Cookie could feel Mavinga's intense stare on her skin, like the heat from a fire when you sit too close. She tried to focus on her master, but she couldn't completely ignore the fact that a horrible man that she had nothing but contempt for was leering at her from the other side, his eyes focused on her stiff nipples... the flushed, dripping pussy between her legs.

Oscar looked into his pet's wide eyes, and it nearly stopped Cookie's heart to see how much he was enjoying this. Oscar made a great show of treating her like a beloved pet, but she had almost allowed herself to forget the true nature lurking underneath his suave surface. This harrowing humiliation she was feeling right now was the point. He had called her other worst enemy here to show her that she would submit to whatever he said, no matter how degrading.

Oscar saw the dawning comprehension in her eyes, then his gaze flicked past her, to where Mavinga sat, amused and hateful and stewing with perverse lust.

"Would you like to pet my pretty kitty, Pascal?" he asked with a cruel smirk. "She just loves attention."

This time Cookie couldn't help but glance fearfully over toward Mavinga. His eyes shone with deep satisfaction as he drawled, "I'm normally a pious man, Van Heel. Purity in mind and body is important to me. You know that. But I'll make an exception in this case. She really is a lovely little whore, isn't she?" Cookie could sense his eagerness to take revenge. To diminish her. To tear down the woman who had defeated him and make her just another slut in his eyes. He lifted his hand, and Cookie's skin rose in pebbled goosebumps. She wanted to shy away, but at the same time her body thrilled with dark heat. She was doing this for her master, and there could be nothing more arousing than that.

Mavinga's hand was sweaty and rough with callouses as it squeezed one of Cookie's firm little breasts, almost painfully tight. She closed her eyes and bit her lip, ashamed that she was being touched by this awful human being, but even more ashamed that her pussy was throbbing with desperate need from the perversity of it all.

Mavinga's hands roamed her body, touching everywhere with cruel curiosity. "I must say," he said with a hoarse laugh, "This one makes a much better cat than she did a woman. As a reporter I found her annoying, but as a brainless slut, she certainly has her charms." he pinched and pulled a nipple, forcing a rough, raw gasp from Cookie's throat. She cast a pleading glance toward her master.

But Oscar didn't seem to be in any mood to help her out at the moment. His gleeful grin was nearly as sharp as Mavinga's; two men united by their desire for revenge on the presumptuous journalist who thought she could bring them down. He spoke to his fellow criminal again, looking past Cookie as if she didn't exist. "If you think she looks good, you should see what she can do. I taught this little sex kitten all sorts of tricks."

"By all means," urged Mavinga, his grin wide enough now to show a shining golden tooth, "I'm eager to see. Please, put her through her paces."

Oscar smoothly freed his cock with one hand, letting its full, impressive stiffness bounce free into the air. The sight of it was like catnip to Cookie, sending a rush of hot wet lust through her core and making her mouth water instinctively. That Pavlovian response turned out to be correct, because a moment later, Oscar reached up with his free hand and hooked a finger through his pet's collar, dragging her face downward toward his cock.

The movement forced Cookie into a sort of crouching position between Mavinga and Oscar, with her face downward in her master's crotch and her fat ass wiggling in the air, pointed straight at the grinning warlord. Cookie gulped. The position left her feeling supremely exposed and vulnerable, but she was still unable to resist her master's cock right in front of her. With Oscar still dragging her down by her collar, she opened her lips and sucked him inside greedily, feeding her worst instincts. She ran her tongue over the now-familiar dome of his throbbing head, sealing her lips around his veiny shaft and sucking, almost as if for her own comfort.

When she had Oscar's cock in her mouth, everything else seemed to fade away. The only thing that was important to her was pleasing her master. She began bobbing up and down his thick cock in long smooth strokes, slathering every inch of hot skin beneath her tongue with saliva as she worshipped her owner.

"Incredible," breathed the man behind her. She was suddenly uncomfortably aware of how aroused she was... with her juicy pussy just inches from this man she despised. She had watched him squirm from her exposé, but now he watched her squirm with pure erotic shame, eyeing her tight pink pussy as it leaked down her thighs. "Do you think I could... continue petting her?"

"Hmmm, why don't we ask her?" said Oscar brightly. He pulled Cookie up off of his cock and tilted her chin upward, staring deep into her eyes. "What do you say, Cookie? Do you want to get stroked by the nice man?"

Cookie felt cornered. On the one hand, the presence of Mavinga still filled her with squirming discomfort. But on the other hand... God, this situation was frying her brain. It was so hot that she couldn't think straight anymore. She knew what her master wanted, and it was just easier to go with that, even if her personal thoughts might have been otherwise. Her master was the source of all sexual pleasure, and she needed to cum right now.

"Yes, Master," she murmured meekly.

A slow smile spread across Oscar's face. "Well then I suppose you had better ask him nicely."

Cookie swallowed down the last dregs of her bitter defeat and managed to say in a trembling voice, her body burning with dark, twisted desire, "P-please Mr. Mavinga... can you pet me?"

"I thought you would never ask, you little whore," growled the evil man behind her. His hand cracked down in a heavy spank onto her jiggling ass, making Cookie yelp in a wild blend of pain and pleasure. Oscar took the opportunity to push her mouth downward once again onto his cock, muffling her whimpers as Mavinga's hand fell again, reddening her cheeks. She savored the feeling of her master's thick rod between her lips again, blending with the exquisite humiliation. She took his cock deeper and deeper, seeking more sensation as Mavinga continued groping her vulnerable ass.

"You thought that you were good enough to disrespect me? ME?" snarled Mavinga behind her. He ceased spanking her, but sank his fingers deep into each cheek, mauling her ass with squeezing, circular motions, putting pressure on the tail still lodged in her asshole. "You're nothing but a little tramp. A series of wet, warm holes for superior men to fuck. I mean, look at your tight little cunt!"

Cookie let out a suppressed moan as she felt Mavinga's rough fingers touch her overheated pussy, pressing between her tender lips and sliding a thick digit deep inside her in one forceful motion.

"You were built for this," continued Mavinga in a sneering voice as he began to finger fuck her from behind, his other hand rising to twist and tug on the tail lodged in her ass. "A beast. A bitch in heat. This body was wasted on something useless like reporting."

The words stung Cookie to her core, even after being broken by her master. To hear scum like Pascal Mavinga insult her truly made her feel like the lowest of the low. But at this point, the dark, roiling lust inside her was too strong to stop; it took all of her pain and humiliation and absorbed it, making her animal lust stronger than ever. Her pussy clenched tight around the finger inside her as her neck moved up and down, faster by the second, taking Oscar's cock deep into her throat just like he had trained her to do.

She could feel an orgasm coming, whether she wanted it or not. At this point, she had no reason to hold back. Her master had faced her with the worst humiliation she could ever imagine: to be pleasured by the two men she hated the most. Her submission overwhelmed and crushed any remaining pride or dignity she had left. She moaned wildly around the cock stuffing her throat as Mavinga's finger plundered her pussy, her thighs beginning to shake as orgasm overwhelmed her.

She pressed her lips all the way down to seal around the base of her master's shaft, packing her throat full of cock as the orgasm rolled over her. She was helpless before it, her body straining and shaking with inescapable pleasure, her hot pussy milking and gripping tight around Mavinga's probing finger. She felt Oscar twitch inside her, pumping thick, gluey spurts of cum down into her stomach as her own climax gripped her tight. The intensity of her orgasm burned away all of her clinging shame, at least for a moment, and she basked, toes curling and eyes rolling back, caught in the heat of complete submissive surrender.

Mavinga whooped and laughed, obviously tickled by how far his haughty foe had fallen; he roughly thrust his finger in and out a few more times, contributing little to Cookie's already fading orgasm, before reaching toward his belt. "You are a genius, Van Heel!" he explained, his voice raspy with violent lust. "An artist! I must have her. I want to show this bitch her place more thoroughly!"

Cookie's heart sank, but luckily, it seemed that Oscar had let this go as far as he had planned to. Pulling his dazed and cum-drunk pet up off of his cock, Oscar cleared his throat sharply, a noise that made even a man like Mavinga pause. "

"I think not," said Oscar, reaching down to pet Cookie's head possessively and raising an eyebrow at his guest. "The fun and games are over for today, I'm afraid, Pascal. We have business to attend to."

Mavinga scowled, and for a moment it seemed like he might try to argue with his host, but his dark, canny eyes flicked over to the heavily-armed guards at the door and he swallowed his objections with a strained smile. "Whatever you say," he finally managed dryly. "Your pet, your rules."

Oscar chuckled and reached across Cookie to pat Mavinga's shoulder. "Don't look so down! I'll tell you what: I'm having a little get-together tonight. I would love you to attend. Cookie is going to be the showpiece of the evening, and, not to spoil the surprise, but you'll be able to... sample her charms a little more then." Cookie glanced up at her owner in confusion, the taste of his cock still heavy on her tongue. This was the first she was hearing of a party. Oscar winked at her before turning back to Mavinga. "Well? How does that sound?"

Mavinga pursed his lips, then shrugged and nodded. "Well... as long as I'm here, I suppose I might as well enjoy myself. I would be honored to attend. And now... shall we discuss business?"

Oscar nodded, beckoning one of his guards forward. "Of course. Carlos will escort you to my office. Wait for me there a moment. My men can fetch you any refreshments that you wish."

Mavinga stood from the couch with a grunt. "Of course," he said roughly. When Cookie glanced back over her shoulder, he was staring right into her eyes. "I'll be seeing you soon, kitty," he promised, caressing Cookie's upturned backside one last time with his rough hand.

Cookie watched him stride out of the room before turning back to look at her master. Oscar patted her cheek with one hand as he tucked his dripping cock back into his pants with the other. "I can see that you're curious about what I told your old friend. Well... it's just what it sounds like. I'm hosting a little get-together tonight, and you're going to be the star. Everyone's going to be so jealous of my new pet. They'll all know exactly who Oscar Van Heel is... and why they should think twice before crossing me."

Cookie's stomach roiled as she stared up into her Master's triumphant smile. This had always been the point, after all. She wasn't just a sex toy for the cruel, powerful man who had conquered her. She was an object lesson. A warning to anyone who dared to get on his bad side:

I have the power to bring you to heel in the most humiliating way possible. Don't test me.

Cookie was now the lowest of the low. Once, that thought might have ignited resistance inside her, but all of the flames of her old fiery independence were flickering and dim. She felt only the ghost of indignant anger over the fact that Oscar planned to parade her as a sexual trophy to all of his criminal friends. Submission was second nature to her now. Experience taught her that it was so much easier and more pleasurable to just give in.

"Yes, master," she said meekly, her eyes shining with devotion and her pussy already throbbing with need at the thought of serving him that night.

...

Tanner watched Marta as she applied her makeup in the mirror, then carefully put on a pair of dangling golden earrings.

She was distractingly sexy.

And it wasn't just his awkward little crush that was making him feel that way. He was sure of it. Marta had chosen a tiny little black dress that practically dripped off her curves, and plunged low between her breasts, revealing a cock-siffening view of her soft, brown cleavage. She noticed him staring at her ass in the mirror as she leaned forward, and caught his eye.

"Ok, let's go over it one more time," she said sharply, her business-like voice in sharp contrast to the soft sexuality of her outfit. "I need to know that you know the plan, so if we get separated, you can find your way on your own. Tell me. How are we getting in?"

Tanner blinked, thinking quickly and trying not to let his eyes get dragged back down from Marta's eyes to her body. "Service entrance," he managed to pull from his memories of her explanation. "You have a friend who is going to let us in."

"Exactly," said Marta with a satisfied little nod. She turned back to the mirror and pulled out a tube of lipstick. "We'll have to be careful blending into the crowd, but I've heard the guest list is big enough that no one will notice one or two extras. But just in case someone does ask who you are, what do you tell them?"

"Uhhhh," said Tanner, drawing a blank as he watched Marta make a kissing motion toward the mirror.

She turned to glare at him. "Are you serious, Gringito? I thought all you cared about was finding this spoiled rich girlfriend of yours! Now the night is here, and you can't even pay attention long enough to listen to the plan!"

Tanner flushed and ran his hands through his hair, suddenly stung by her accurate criticism of his lack of focus. He couldn't explain it. Maybe it was the stress. Maybe it was being told over and over again that rescuing Amelia was impossible. Maybe it was just because he was fucking tired after sleeping in the sweltering heat with a woman who hogged all the space on the cramped twin-sized bed. But it didn't feel real. Even sitting here in the cheap suit that Marta had forced him to pony up the cash for, he couldn't make himself believe that he was really about to come face to face with the woman he had been chasing after for months.

But he needed to focus. Amelia was why he was here, after all. She needed his help, and even if he was tired, and distracted, and embarrassingly captivated by the sharp-tongued Latina giving him a withering glare, he had to push through and do this. Tanner set his jaw in determination and tried to focus. "Tell me again. One more time."

Marta clicked over in her stunningly tall heels and began adjusting his tie with movements that Tanner thought were maybe more aggressive than strictly necessary. "Your name is Trevor Bombach. You work with Oscar's operations in Florida. That explains why you only speak English, and also why no one at the party knows you that well. Operations in the US usually work at arm's length. But don't get caught up in any discussions about the business! You'll give yourself away in a second. Do you have it now?"

Tanner sighed and looked away. "I really think we should get Mr. Svenson in on this," he said nervously. "It would be good to have backup."

Marta glared at him, her lips thinning with annoyance. "I told you a hundred times. The old man isn't on the island anymore. He left a few days ago."

Tanner nodded, frowning. He didn't believe it. Mr. Svenson had been obsessed with saving his daughter. The idea he would just give up and leave seemed impossible. But, even though Marta's story didn't make sense, there was no indication she was lying. Mr. Svenson hadn't answered his calls for days, and he had even attempted to return to the safe house to speak to the old man directly. A different family was renting it already. An attempted call to Mr. Swenson's New York office had not even been answered. Without anything else to go off of, Tanner had no way to prove that Marta was making things up.

"We don't need him anyway," said Marta sharply, her lovely, dark eyes troubled. "He would only make this more difficult."

"Yeah," said Tanner, looking up into her eyes with a crooked grin and letting his concern over the old man who abandoned him fade away into mild disquiet. "This will be a piece of cake."

Marta didn't smile. "Take this seriously," she said flatly. "Even if we're sneaking in and out, we are going in right under the nose of the most dangerous man you've ever met. If he gets even a whiff of what we're doing there, we'll both be dead. Or worse."

"I don't know why you care so much," said Tanner with a scoff. "Are you getting soft on me, Marta? What, do you have a thing for me now or something?"

For a second, the tie around his throat grew uncomfortably tight, then Marta turned away. But not before Tanner caught the shiny glint of tears in the corner of her eye. Marta turned back to her dresser, her shoulders stiff, tossing items back into her makeup bag with swift, angry motions.

Tanner stood, feeling more lost than ever. He didn't understand her reaction at all, but it couldn't possibly be what it seemed like. Marta had made it clear from the very moment they met that she thought he was a soft idiot who was completely out of his depth. There was simply no way that she could have feelings for him. He awkwardly approached and touched Marta's shoulder. "Hey... sorry. You know I was just joking with you, right? I understand that this is serious."

Marta shrugged away his hand. "Do you?" she asked in a voice thick with emotion. "Right from the very start, it feels like you've been trying to get yourself killed here. You're planning to do something stupid tonight, aren't you? No matter how many times I warn you."

Tanner put his hands on her hips and turned her around to see her fiercely struggling against the tears streaming down her face. He had no idea what to say. He had always just assumed that Marta had meant what she said: that she found him pathetic, but fun to mess around with sexually. He should have known that looking out for him and sharing a bed with him might change the way she looked at things. "Oh... shit," he said blankly, his eyes darting over her miserable expression. "I had no idea that you felt... like this. I'm sorry, Marta... I just don't know if..."

Marta shook her head with a bitter expression. "Stop. Don't. I know. I'm not the one you're here for. I know that. You never led me on. You're here to be her knight in shining armor, and I'm just a distraction on the way to your goal."

Tanner wasn't sure what he could say, because she was right. Amelia was the reason that he was on the island, and nothing about that had changed. He couldn't even say that he had feelings for Marta like the ones it was becoming clear she had developed for him, despite his attraction toward her. But he also couldn't stand to see her cry. So he did the only thing that felt right, and tilted her chin upward toward him, pulling her into a kiss.

Marta didn't resist. In fact, it seemed like she was hungry for the comfort of his lips, leaning in and reaching up to cup the back of his head, pulling him closer. Her tongue writhed with his as he felt the wet warmth of her tears and the smear of her lipstick against his lips. As her body pressed tight against his, Tanner felt his bubbling lust surge up once again, instantly stiffening his cock. He might not love Marta, but he was still weak to her charms, and he wasn't above accepting a little physical affection before their dangerous mission.

Marta pushed him insistently until his knees hit the bed and he fell backward, landing with a puff of breath as she stood above him. Her tears had dried, and she stared at him with a gaze that overflowed with some intense emotion that he couldn't guess. Either anger or desire. Maybe both. Without a word, she bent slightly and reached up beneath her dress, fishing out a tiny leopard print thong and rolling it down her thick caramel thighs before stepping daintily out of the panties and tossing them to the side.

Tanner's eyes widened, and once again he assumed he had to be getting the wrong impression. Marta's one big rule was that she would withhold her pussy from him until he agreed to give up his quest. It was a challenge that defined their relationship. But, to his shock, Marta reached over and roughly unbuckled his pants with a look of lustful determination on her face, shucking his pants and boxers down off his hips to reveal his hard, throbbing cock.

"What? Marta, are you sure?" he asked stupidly, dumbfounded by his sudden luck.

Marta mounted the bed, slinging one thigh over his hips and pressing a hand down over his mouth to silence him. "Callate," she hissed, using her other hand to fish around beneath her and grip his cock. "Stop talking before I change my mind."

Tanner groaned with the intense sensation as he felt Marta nuzzle his throbbing cockhead between her juicy lower lips. A surge of wild lust flared through him as she pressed him against her quivering entrance and he felt her wet, internal heat for the first time. In that moment, he didn't think about Oscar or Amelia or anything besides the beautiful woman above him. His cock disappeared beneath the tight black dress she was still wearing to press upward against her pussy. Marta closed her eyes and bit her lip, hesitating for a moment as if unsure that she should be breaking the rule that she had set...

Then she sank down decisively with a deliciously smooth roll of her hips, sheathing Tanner's hard cock deep in her hot, wet cunt in one silky stroke.

"Fuuuuck," groaned Tanner, reaching up to take Marta's hips in his hands as she began to bounce and grind. Her tight pussy gripped as her hips rolled and swirled with skillful liquid rotations. He had known that she would be amazing at sex just from the way she moved her hips on the dance floor, and she was proving him right. Her heavy, round tits jiggled hypnotically in her tight dress with the rhythmic sink and bounce of her ass against Tanner's hips. It was the best sex that Tanner had ever had, including with Amelia, and that was fucking saying something.

Marta wasn't holding anything back. Her hips pumped relentlessly from the very beginning, efficiently milking his cock with every expert stroke. "This is what you wanted, isn't it, papi?" she purred above him, her voice ragged with pleasure. "You wanted to fuck me sooo bad. I could see it in your eyes every night. Is it everything you dreamed about?"

"Oh Goddd, yess," hissed Tanner, thrusting upward into her tight pussy, every nerve in his body screaming for him to get as deep into this sexy, fertile woman as he possibly could. "So fucking good."

"But she must be better," gasped Marta with a harsh little laugh, never slowing the incredible pumping of her hips. "If not even this pussy could steal you away." The room was filling with the wet slap of their coupling, and Marta's breasts were bouncing more and more heavily as she fucked Tanner harder, riding him like a wild bronco.

Tanner disagreed with her... not exactly about the fact that she could steal him away, but about the fact that Amelia was better. He was huffing and puffing now, trying to hold on so that he didn't cum immediately, just minutes into this torrid fuck session. It wasn't just about who was better in bed. Amelia needed him. He opened his mouth to say so, but Marta shook her head irritably, her dangling earrings swinging and flashing in the dim light of her bedroom.

"No. No words. Just cum for me, Tanner. Show me that you want me. Do it now. We don't have any more time for this." Her words were dismissive, but beneath them crackled a whine of needy heat. No matter how quick this had been, Marta was on the edge of orgasm herself. Tanner was a little surprised. She often demanded that he work for hours before she thought it was time to cum. But he supposed that she was probably right. They really didn't have much time until they were supposed to leave for the party.

Tanner let himself go, gripping Marta's hips tight and thrusting upward into her faster and faster, throwing himself into the sensation of his plunging cock and the tight, hot pussy wrapped snugly around it, milking it from base to tip with every frantic stroke. Marta moaned above him as her hips pumped and ground downward, as graceful and smooth as when she danced with him. She hadn't been bluffing. Tanner could feel her tip over the edge into climax as she rode him, her pussy clenching even tighter as her moans grew high and breathy, dripping with liquid need. He reached orgasm himself a moment later, groaning in concert with her as his cock sprayed what felt like a gallon of hot sticky cum deep inside her.

They both thrust and strained against each other for a moment longer before Marta slowed and stopped, leaning forward on his chest and breathing heavily with her hair hanging forward over her eyes. Tanner felt drained. Now that his simmering arousal was fading away, all that was left was vague disquiet over what was to come.

After another moment, Marta dismounted. Tanner's softening cock slipped out of her, still covered with a mixture of their juices. Marta cleared her throat and arranged her dress. When she looked back up at Tanner, her expression was cool and collected once again. "I'm going to go clean up in the bathroom. When I get back, you should do the same. Then it will be time to go. I hope you were paying attention to the plan, Gringito, because we're out of time."

She didn't wait for him to answer, instead striding to the door. But then she paused with a strange, considering look on her face. She crossed back to her dresser, opened the drawer, and pulled out a small pistol, holstered in a leather strap. Tanner's eyes went wide. He had never even suspected that Marta owned a gun, but he supposed that it made sense on an island as dangerous as this one. She saw his look of concern, and her expression grew hard. "Just in case," she said solemnly.

"I thought you told me that they checked everyone at the door," said Tanner nervously, sitting up in bed.

"Not the side door that we're going in." In a few swift, confident motions that showed these movements were routine for her, Marta strapped the little hoster to her thigh, so it was just concealed by the bottom hem of her dress. Tanner had a bad feeling about the fact that she was bringing a gun, but she gave him no chance to voice his concerns. This time Marta didn't pause as she left the bedroom and headed to the bathroom down the hall, leaving Tanner lying back on the bed with a swelling sense of unease, cock softening and heart pounding.

...

The night was hot, humid, and moonless, but Oscar Van Heel's mansion was lit up with blazing lights, visible for miles in every direction. As Tanner and Marta snuck around to the service entrance, Tanner was shocked to see limousines and town cars pulling up the drive to disgorge finely dressed men and women at the front doors. It looked for all the world like a fancy upper-class party rather than a gathering of criminals.

But maybe that made sense. Oscar was all about showing off his wealth and power. He probably drew like-minded criminals from all over the world to join him in gaudy luxury. Tanner only caught a glimpse of the glamorous front entrance; in a second, he was pulled along down the side of the building by Marta toward a dimly lit side entrance. A nervous man in a janitor's smock waited there as others bustled around, pulling wheeled racks of dinner rolls and fruit trays off of a catering van and into the building.

After a short exchange of Spanish that Tanner could tell was tense, but, as usual, he couldn't understand a word of, Marta's friend gestured for them to follow and ducked inside the door. As Marta clicked swiftly behind him, she waved Tanner toward her impatiently, and when he got close enough for her to whisper, she said, "This part will be the most dangerous. We need to blend into the crowd as quickly as we can. Once we're in, we should just be able to mingle and become invisible. Then we can see what we need to see and walk right out the front door. They don't check people on the way out."

Tanner knew that Marta was probably right... if they followed her plan, that is. Now that they were here in the Lion's den, Tanner could feel anxiety pumping through him. They might not make a habit of checking guests as they left the party, but if he attempted his wild, half-formed plan of trying to sneak Amelia out, the guards at the front door would definitely have something to say about that, he felt. Being in this physical space, knowing that both Amelia and Oscar Van Heel himself were in the same building, made the whole situation feel frighteningly real to him all of a sudden.

But, ready or not, this was happening. Marta strode forward confidently down the back halls of the mansion, past a busy kitchen, and toward a pair of swinging doors. Tanner had no choice but to follow, unsure of what exactly they were going to see on the other side.

When Marta pushed through the doors, hips swinging confidently and walking like she owned the place, the sight that greeted their eyes nearly made Tanner's heart stop. Before he came to the mansion tonight, he had half-expected a sleazy gathering of shady, tattooed criminals. When he saw the limos and fancy dress of the guests on their way in, he had adjusted his expectations to be more of a fancy cocktail party.

But what Tanner saw as he exited the swinging staff doors was neither. It was a sex party of the type that he had thought only existed in the filthiest of movies. They had passed through the doors into what appeared to be a large ballroom, presumably built for gatherings such as these. The cavernous, dimly lit space was furnished with low couches around the edges of the room, as well as tables set with white tablecloths and fine silverware. A bar stood on one wall, and a stage extended from the opposite wall, reaching out toward the center of the room in almost a catwalk. Everything dripped with luxury and understated class.

But the decor wasn't what caught Tanner's attention.

The waitresses wandering the party with trays of alcohol and finger foods were totally nude apart from the fishnet thigh-highs and the garterbelts that held them up. The young ladies moving around the large ballroom were a rainbow of different skin colors and body types, the only common factor being that they were completely gorgeous. And they weren't just there for eye candy either, as Tanner watched, open-mouthed with shock, A broad man with an eyepatch reached out casually and pulled a slim asian beauty down into his lap, smothering her in kisses. She didn't resist at all, putting on a customer service smile and setting her tray down carefully before returning his kisses and molding her tight little body against his.

Similar scenes were taking place all over the room. Lustful guests, whether male or female, were freely partaking of the beautiful female servants, treating them more like sex toys than people. And speaking of the female guests, they seemed to be getting into the spirit of things just as much. Tanner saw one woman with an elegant evening dress bunched up around her waist as she rode her date hard on one of the couches, making out with him deeply while her ass bounced up and down and the other guests around them watched with polite interest.

Marta took Tanner by the arm, steering him away from the service door and hissing in his ear, "Don't stare around like a fucking idiot! I told you that this was a party where Oscar was going to show off his sexy new slave. What did you think was going to be on the agenda? Monopoly?"

She had a point, but Tanner still struggled to keep his eyes to himself as they passed a amazonian serving girl with skin so dark it looked almost purple, on her knees in front of a leathery old man, bobbing her head industriously up and down his cock while staring up at him with dark, solemn eyes. "Those poor girls..." he whispered to Marta under his breath as they swept past the table.

Marta snorted and rolled her eyes. "Don't trip all over yourself to feel sorry for them, Gringito. Girls at Oscar's sex parties get paid through the nose. Girls fight for the position. You're basically looking at some of the most well-paid prostitutes in the world. I would have killed to be invited when I still worked for Van Heel's operation. Would have set my family up for a good long while."

Tanner looked at her in shock as she pulled him toward an empty sofa against the wall and sat. "What? You would really...?" He gestured over toward where a burly man had lifted a petite, pale redheaded server onto a table and spread her thighs wide to frantically fuck her, thrusting hard enough to make the plates and silverware on the table rattle.

"Would I spend one night servicing the cocks of some creepy criminal fucks in order to set up my family for a year?" asked Marta dryly, pulling Tanner down to sit beside her and crossing her legs carefully to avoid pressing the gun between her thighs. "Yes, I would. I mean, I was a maid for a prisoner for a few months and almost got killed for the trouble. There's a lot I would be willing to do to make ends meet, Gringito. I wouldn't expect a rich, spoiled boy like you to understand."

Tanner blinked at her in confusion, not sure where her sudden hostility had come from. Her eyes flashed dangerously as she stared back at him. Luckily, they were interrupted by an approaching serving woman before Tanner had to come up with something else to say. She was a tall and curvy dark-haired woman with broad, rounded hips, numerous tattoos, and enormous pale breasts that Tanner had to fight to keep from staring at. Like many of the other serving girls, she wore tall heels that made her seem to tower even higher than she already would. "Good Evening, Sir," she intoned in a low Eastern European accented voice, her eyes somehow amused and eager at the same time as they met Tanner's. "Are you looking for some companionship?"

The correct response, given the circumstances, was to politely refuse. But Tanner found himself tongue-tied, his cock beginning to tent up his pants beneath the servant's heated gaze. Marta was forced to come to his rescue in the most unexpected of ways.

"We're planning to play on our own for a while," said Marta with a fake smile, reaching over to rub the bulge in Tanner's pants. "Perhaps later."

"Of course, madame," said the woman smoothly. But, despite her acceptance of Marta's claim, she cast one more reproachful glance over her shoulder as she turned away, and Tanner couldn't help but stare longingly at her thick, jiggling ass as she clicked away on her tall heels.

"Bitch," muttered Marta irritably under her breath as she continued to rub Tanner through his pants.

Tanner squirmed uncomfortably. Marta's groping fingers felt incredible, obviously, but he was painfully aware of the fact that they were in public. Anybody might look over and see Marta rubbing his hard cock. "Uhhh, she's gone now, Marta," he said with a grimace. "I think you can stop with the..."

Marta rolled her eyes, her hand never ceasing. "Think for one second, Gringito! The whole reason she came up to you in the first place is that you seem like a nice guy. The smart move for these girls is to attach yourself to some wimp who won't mistreat them and stick with him all night." She glanced over at him and gave his cock a tight little squeeze. "No offence."

Tanner frowned. Well... he supposed that it made sense he would look like the safest choice in a room full of murderous criminals. "None taken..." he said uncertainly, peering around again at the scenes of depravity happening around them with faint distaste.

"In fact," said Marta thoughtfully, with the ghost of a mischievous smile on her face despite the tension of their infiltration, "maybe we ought to make things a little more realistic..." Tanner had no idea what she meant, but it didn't take him long to find out. Tanner's eyes nearly popped out of his head as Marta unzipped his pants and swiftly fished his cock out of his fly, wrapping her fist around it and jerking him off in full view of anyone who cared to look.

Tanner's nerves sang, and his pulse pounded in his ears, surging with adrenaline. He reached down compulsively to try to stop Marta's obscene, exhibitionist act, only to have his hands slapped impatiently away by his fiery co-conspirator. "Relax," she commanded sharply, as her fist traveled slowly up and down his throbbing cock. "Everyone else is having their cocks' taken care of too. You'll stand out if you're the only one not having fun! Besides," she nodded toward the center of the room. "The show is about to start. Watch and learn, Gringito."

Tanner was about to hiss a protest when he realized exactly what Marta meant.

A tall, dark-haired man had mounted a small stage that extended outward from the edge of the large ballroom toward the center. He clapped his hands together, calling the attention of the guests gathered in the room, and although some of the men and women attending had been considerably... distracted beforehand, the whole room fell quickly into dead silence. All of the guests ceased their debauchery and turned with silent respect bordering on fear toward the man in the center of the room.

Tanner recognized him immediately from Amelia's copious research materials. Oscar Van Heel, the most dangerous man in the world. The man who had disappeared Amelia without a trace.

"Good evening, one and all," said Oscar in a low, charming voice. Tanner's eyes searched the man's face, trying to detect any sign of the depthless evil he knew lurked beneath the man's suave facade. But there was nothing there. Oscar Van Heel wore a perfect mask, showing him to be a polite host and nothing more. Although the room was filled with the worst criminal scum in the world... along with the lingering scent of sex, he acted as if he was presiding over an upper-class gala. "I hope that you have all been enjoying yourselves thoroughly... and by the look of my poor serving girls, it certainly seems like you have!" A quiet wave of cruel laughter swept through the crowd, and a thrill of disgust flowed through Tanner, strong enough to make him go limp in Marta's hand, which was still gripping him. It didn't matter that Oscar was paying enough to make this night worth it for the girls who worked the floor tonight. What they were doing was fundamentally corrosive to the human spirit. A sign that they didn't see those beneath them as fully human.

Marta forced a laugh alongside him, shooting Tanner a glance and squeezing his failing cock in warning. They were undercover here as the sort of evil people who found these parties amusing. And they had to play the part.

"But!" continued Oscar, with a broad, charming grin spreading across his face, "This isn't just another one of my parties, ladies and gentlemen. No, no, no, tonight is something quite special. I have a project that I have been working on, and it is my pleasure to debut the result for all of you here tonight."

Oscar's dark, soulless eyes were continually scanning the crowd, and for one heart-stopping moment, Tanner felt the monster's gaze lock with his across the room. A bead of sweat formed on Tanner's forehead and an unconvincing fake smile locked his lips in a rictus. Then Oscar's gaze swept past, and Tanner couldn't be sure that he had really paused at all.

"Without further ado..." Oscar turned toward the curtains at the back of the stage with an arm outstretched, his face a picture of evil satisfaction. "I present to you... Cookie."

The crowd murmured, a sound of almost sickening anticipation. Tanner felt a swell of disquiet, and his arms raised in goosebumps as his eyes focused intently on the curtains at the back of the stage. Marta had begun stroking her hand up and down his cock again, coaxing it back to stiffness despite his feeling of unease.

"It's time for you to finally see why your rescue plan will never work," she whispered in her ear, her voice a curious blend of gloating and guilt. "Just don't hate me when you realize I was right."

The curtains twitched. Cookie stepped through into the light, crawling on all fours.

...

Cookie blinked beneath the bright, hot lights as they suddenly focused on her. But, even though she was momentarily blinded, she could feel the eyes on her, staring from every corner of the room. She could hear the muffled laughter and whispers.

She was the center of attention; utterly exposed for the degraded sex object she had become.

Master had given her a special outfit today. A sparkling diamond collar and anklets that shone and glinted as she crawled. A new pair of ears and an extra fluffy tail, both pure white, and expertly done makeup that made her look more feline than ever.

But all of that was just set-dressing for what he really wanted his guests to see. The rest of Cookie was still utterly naked, her firm little tits jiggling and plump ass swaying as she crawled forward, tail swinging behind her. Oscar had made her oil up and add a shimmer of body glitter to complement the shining diamonds, further calling attention to her pale, exposed skin and her delicately pink nipples and pussy. He wanted everyone to see the woman he had conquered and bent to his will, naked, exposed... and shamefully aroused.

And Cookie's arousal was plain for everyone to see. She could feel the attention of the room on her like a burning weight, filling her with wet, hot lust from the roots of her hair to the tips of her toes. Her nipples burned and ached as they swayed beneath her. The moist throb between her thighs was only beginning now, but she knew that soon it would grow into a powerful, hollow ache. It reminded her vividly of that night in the BDSM club so long ago. The night when the video that had started this all was filmed. She had repressed the intense memory of how good it had felt to be the object of lust for so many people. But now Oscar, her master, her tormentor, was forcing her to relive it. And it was so intensely arousing she could barely breathe.

Cookie crawled forward until she was at Oscar's feet, then sat back on her haunches, a position that she realized a second too late gave the watching crowd a peek at her flushed and dewy pussy. She was about to try to shift to a position that might be a bit less revealing when Oscar reached down and began stroking her hair, turning to the crowd and continuing his speech. "Allow me to introduce my new pet. This little cutie was once Amelia Svenson. An intrepid young journalist who decided to do a little exposé on the world's biggest, baddest criminal." His grin was like a wound slashed deep into his face as he stared around the dim ballroom. "But, as you can see, she's the one who ended up exposed."

There was an undercurrent of subtle intimidation in the laughter that rippled through the room now. Cookie's eyes had had a little time to adjust to the stage lights, and she peered around at the ballroom. Her stomach turned as she saw exactly how many people were staring at her, amused at her fate. For the week before this, the ballroom had always been a dark and empty space, not even worth exploring for a bored, sex starved pet like herself. But now it was filled with well-dressed guests and naked women. All of them, both guests and sexual servants, were staring up at the naked, degraded human pet on the stage, with various expressions on the spectrum between arousal and smug mockery.

Cookie had never felt so small in her entire life. This was the moment that Oscar had been leading up to since the beginning. Breaking her down into a hopelessly degraded slut and showing off his power and control by parading her in front of his criminal friends. She should have been deeply offended, if not outright rebellious. She could still stand and slap the smug grin off his face right now.

But she knew that she wouldn't. The training that Oscar had put her through on the island had burrowed deep into Cookie's brain, confusing humiliation and submission with pleasure and fun. Her first instinct wasn't to get angry... it was to get horny. Her body thrummed with a potent blend of shame and pleasure, boiling between her thighs and deep in her core. She rubbed her naked, oiled body up against her master, coiling around him and panting with lust, desperate for his affection even as the part of her that was still Amelia cringed back from the attention of the crowd.

Oscar chuckled at his pet's clear sexual need, stroking her hair more. "Look at this poor little kitty," he said to his audience, relishing his role as presenter. "I'm afraid that my pet is in heat. There's nothing she loves more than being the center of attention." Cookie looked up at him, and her stomach filled with butterflies as she saw the thick bulge forming in the front of his pants. It was obvious where things were going now, and even though the idea of serving her master in front of this many watching eyes shocked Cookie, it only turned up the volcanic heat raging inside her even further.

Oscar's hand took a firm grip on the back of her head, ensuring that she couldn't back away. "Let me show you some of the tricks that my pet learned during her training."

One last nervous, lustful glance showed Amelia that hands and mouths had started working on cocks around the room once again now that the show was about to start. But after that brief glance, Oscar caught Cookie's attention once again. Her eyes locked hungrily on his crotch as his hand reached slowly down and unzipped himself, fishing out his stiff, throbbing cock.

As usual, her master had no issues with performance anxiety, even in front of this large crowd. Not that he had anything to be ashamed of. His cock was probably one of the biggest in the room. Oscar's hand pulled her forward, and he looked back up toward the crowd with a showman's flair. "Take a look. Cookie learned all about playing with her new favorite toy during her training, and she's become very good at it.:"

...

Tanner couldn't think. Couldn't breathe. Couldn't tear his eyes away from the stage. It felt like his entire world was being torn apart.

Marta had hinted that Oscar had trained Amelia in some insidious way. She had even said that Tanner wouldn't recognise his former lover anymore the next time he saw her. But somehow, in the back of his mind, Tanner had never fully believed Marta. Amelia was one of the strongest people he knew. The idea that she would give in to an evil asshole like Oscar was simply unthinkable. Amelia was stubborn, smart, and resourceful. If anyone could find a way to fight back against a monster like Oscar Van Heel, it was her.

And that was why it was so powerfully shocking to see Amelia kneeling on the ground, her eyes staring up at her new master with lustful devotion. Worse, she was clearly turned on. Amelia's nipples stood erect and stiff, pebbled with desire as they poked outward from her firm little tits. The glimpse of her tight, shaved pussy between her kneeling thighs showed that she was dripping wet for her master's cock.

Amelia was the very image of a slutty, submissive sex kitten now, ready and willing to debase herself publicly for a taste of her master's dick. Despite Tanner's steadfast doubts, Marta had been correct: Oscar had remodeled Amelia completely into his obedient sex toy. She hadn't been as strong as Tanner assumed.

He watched with his heart in his throat as Amelia bent forward, lovingly nuzzling her cheeks against Oscar's dick, looking disturbingly feline as the huge, sweaty member smeared precum all over her soft cheeks.

Without warning, Marta's hand began moving up and down Tanner's cock once again, alerting him to the fact that he had risen back to full stiffness without realizing it. "St-stop it," he whispered through a dry mouth. But he didn't turn toward Marta. His eyes were still locked on the disturbing, red-hot sight of Amelia reaching up to wrap her delicate hands around Oscar's cock.

"We need to fit in," insisted Marta, whispering in his ear. "Everyone else is enjoying the show. They'll be suspicious if we don't play along." But Tanner could hear in her voice that that wasn't the only reason she had started the slow, teasing handjob. This was her revenge for his stubbornness. He hadn't believed her, and now Marta was going to punish him by pushing twisted pleasure on him, even while his heart was breaking.

Tanner didn't have the strength to protest. He was too busy watching Amelia... no... watching Cookie degrade herself on stage. The worst part was that his body was rapidly responding to Marta's hand, growing into a throbbing spike of lust under her skillful fingers. Amelia was unquestionably hot, and the cat accessories, although ridiculous, only added to the kinky sight of her nude, oiled body. Tanner's eyes hungrily traced the curves of her tits... her thick, shapely thighs... her flat belly... her tight, dripping cunt. He had seen all of them before. On many, heated, passionate nights, he had run his hands over every inch of her body. But now, it was on display for all to see, shimmering with oil, sweat, and some sort of glitter. Yet, even in this humiliated, slutty state, Amelia had somehow never looked hotter to Tanner.

Amelia bent forward, a look of worshipful ecstasy painted on her face as she began to kiss and lick Oscar's heavy, round balls, taking each one into her mouth to suck eagerly with little moans of satisfaction as her hand pumped up and down his cock above her head. Amelia had been an enthusiastic lover... but she had never done anything like this for Tanner.

"You see?" whispered Marta in his ear, her hand matching the pace of Amelia's up on the stage. "Your pretty little girlfriend only cares about one thing anymore, Gringito. Her master's cock. Oscar turned her into a drooling slut whose only goal is to stuff her holes with dick. There's nothing left for you to save. This is where she belongs now. Taking her away from her one true love would just be cruelty."

Tanner watched as Amelia rose higher on her knees, nearly going cross-eyed as she stared forward at her "one true love". A thick line of drool slipped from between her lips, and her eyes flicked upward toward her master, waiting for his command.

A little groan escaped Tanner's lips as Oscar pulled Amelia slowly but inevitably forward, his thick cock stretching her soft lips open as it slid inside. Even from across the room he could see how much she loved the public disgrace that Oscar was putting her through. Amelia's hand slipped down between her thighs, beginning to unselfconsciously rub herself in front of the giggling, whispering crowd as her master stuffed her mouth with cock. Amelia had sucked Tanner's cock before during the many times they had hooked up. But she had never looked this passionate or devoted.

It was an inescapable fact that Tanner simply couldn't make Amelia feel the way that Oscar was as her lips wrapped around his veiny shaft. And it wasn't just the fact that Oscar's dick was so massive, although that obvious fact also made Tanner feel small and inadequate in Marta's pumping hand. It was the crimelord's entire personality: forceful and confident and utterly, dominantly in control. For just a moment, as Tanner's eyes darted over the obscenity taking place on the stage, he understood how Amelia had lost despite being so strong. Oscar was invincible.

A choked moan escaped Amelia's throat as Oscar pressed deeper. The newly created slut squeezed her eyes shut and opened her mouth wide, accepting her master's cock deeper and deeper, while her fingers rubbed greedily between her legs. She began bobbing up and down, taking more and more of Oscar's cock with a desperate hunger for the monstrous criminal's domination burning in her eyes.

Tanner could feel a twisted, nihilistic pleasure building up inside him from Marta's hand stroking his cock. The tableau in front of him may have been shocking and appalling..., but it was also pornographic in a way he couldn't fully ignore. Amelia was just as hot as a degraded slut as she had been when she was his romantic fixation. Maybe even more so. If things kept going this way, he was positive that both he and Oscar would soon cum.

But strangely, just when Tanner could feel things building up toward a climax for both of them, Oscar stepped back, pulling his dripping cock from Amelia's mouth. She was obviously just as shocked as Tanner, staring up at her master with an expression of troubled incomprehension as Oscar turned to face the crowd.

"But I didn't just call you all here to show off," he said with a roughish grin, tucking his impressive cock back into his pants.

"I was actually more interested in sharing my new toy with you all."

...

Cookie's whole body was blazing with helpless desire. She had been so close to coaxing her master to let out a hot, sticky torrent of sperm straight down her throat, just like he had earlier that afternoon. She could tell that he was close. She couldn't understand why he had pulled away.

But when he turned back toward the crowd and informed them that he planned to share, suddenly a sense of clarity settled over Cookie.

This night was about to become even more humiliating.

"But first, I wanted to extend that courtesy to our guest of honor for the evening," said Oscar, pointing out into the crowd. Cookie squinted out, unable to see who he was referencing because of the bright lights, but dreading who it might be.

But she should have known all along. Pascal Mavinga took the stage with a wide, predatory grin on his wrinkled face, his yellowed eyes roaming over Amelia's body once again.

As he strode forward to clasp Oscar's hand in a warm handshake, Cookie's stomach tied in knots. She was almost delirious with nerves, lust, and soul-crushing embarrassment, but her arousal-clouded mind was finally putting together Oscar's talk about "sharing" and "welcoming his guest of honor". Part of her blanched at the very thought... but she was too far gone to find even this degrading assignment unacceptable. Her body was still red hot from servicing her master, and she didn't even dream of disobeying him, no matter what he asked her to do... and no matter how shameful it would be.

Cookie's fears were confirmed by Oscar gesturing magnanimously toward Cookie where she knelt on the floor, chest heaving with arousal. "My bad little kitty has caused you quite a bit of distress, hasn't she my friend? Well, good owners discipline their pets..."

He turned to the audience and gave them a wink. "I think everyone here has read the little article that this former up-and-coming journalist wrote about our good friend Pascal. Now let's watch the follow-up, where he has the chance to give his rebuttal."

Mavinga seemed to hesitate for a second, licking his lips. Oscar's aside had reminded him that he was being watched. But his lust and desire to dominate the young woman who had humiliated him in the past won out in the end. Cookie gulped and felt another flush of blended lust and shame as he reached down and unbuttoned his pants.

When Pascal Mavinga's cock emerged from his fly, Cookie nearly let out a gasp. She had thought that Oscar was the biggest man she would ever be with, but Mavinga had at least another inch on him, even if he was a bit less girthy. His cock was a powerful, throbbing pillar of meat, veiny and long and dark as midnight. He wasted no time in waddling forward until his cock was directly in Cookie's personal space.

*Thwap*

Mavinga's dark cock slapped down against her face, filling her nose with its wild musk. She had always felt like Mavinga was a small man. Someone she looked down on. But kneeling here in front of the laughing crowd as he slapped his cock against her face with dull, meaty thwaps of flesh on flesh, she had never felt smaller. Oscar hadn't just placed her beneath him... he had humbled her beneath any man he chose to lend her to, and Cookie was just now realizing how pathetic that made her.

But even more concerningly... she wanted Mavinga's cock. She wanted to feel the deep, burning degradation of kissing and sucking the cock of a man she despised in front of a jeering crowd. Every step she had taken down further into corruption had been intensely arousing, and she knew that this would be no different. She hated Mavinga with all her heart, and that hatred burned inside her as she glared up into his mocking eyes... But, no matter how sick it made her, she wanted to feel him stick his long, throbbing cock deep into her mouth and make her his slut. With a twisted lust burning between her legs and a sinking feeling that she was betraying herself, Amelia rose higher on her knees. She ran her tongue in a swift circle, teasing the bulbous, leaking cockhead of her hated enemy, then pressed her soft lips against it in a submissive kiss.

She was practically daring him to seize control, and Mavinga instantly took the bait, seizing a fistful of Cookie's hair with a savage grunt and thrusting his cock past her pouted lips with no further fanfare.

Cookie's eyes rolled back into her head as Mavinga took dominant control, immediately pressing forward confidently and filling her mouth with the taste of his dick. This might be the only time he was granted this privilege by her true master, but no one present here would ever forget this disgrace. Any time Pascal Mavinga was reminded of the article that had torn him down, he would also be reminded of how its author had publicly sucked him off. And the perfect memory of Amelia's achievement would forever be tainted by the linked memory of her sexual defeat.

Cookie looked over to Oscar as Mavinga began to thrust into her mouth. His hanging balls, which were beginning to drip with drool, slapping wetly against her chin over and over with the force of his pumping hips. Oscar watched her with a twisted smirk, not in the least jealous of her sucking off another man. And why would he be? Oscar didn't see her as a lover. He never had. She was an amusement. A toy. Seeing her face such a withering humiliation, and seeing her turned on by it, obviously amused him greatly. He had set up this whole situation just to grind her further down into the dirt.

Seeing her master so pleased and aroused made Cookie want to dive even deeper into her own degradation, just to make him happier. Oscar was the center of her world now. His pleasure meant everything. And so, Cookie raised her hands to Mavinga's thighs and pushed back. Not to stop the blowjob... but to take control of it. She wasn't just going to sit back passively while her mouth got fucked. For the pleasure of the crowd and her master, she was going to fully submit and serve this hateful man.

Mavinga looked confused for a moment, but he let out a low, brutish chuckle as Cookie began bobbing her head up and down his shaft on her own, her hand rising to cup and squeeze his big, pendulous balls. Thick saliva began to drip, bubbling and frothy, down his dark shaft as Cookie debased herself, sloppily licking and sucking every inch of Mavinga's cock, taking its head between her lips to suckle it for a moment, then releasing with a wet pop to rub her slippery lips up and down his shining shaft. The hot stage lights were making her pour sweat, and she could feel the disrespectful eyes of the audience burning into her from the crowd. But the only eyes she truly cared about right now were her master's. As she lowered her head to tongue Maviga's balls, she made smoldering eye contact with Oscar, silently renewing her pledge to him.

It doesn't matter what you ask from me now. Or how deeply you humiliate me. I live for you. I'm your Cookie. Your little kitty cat. I do whatever my master wills.

Oscar nodded, a faint smirk of triumph playing over his lips. He had defeated and claimed her every step. Her mouth. Her pussy. Her devotion. And now he knew he had truly won. Her loyalty was so deep that she would do whatever he asked, even suck off other men.

"Be a good girl and make him cum, Cookie," Oscar said calmly, speaking to her now, and not the crowd.

Cookie felt a savage primal thrill at her master's approval. The same sort of sense of accomplishment, ironically, that she had gotten when publishing the article that took Mavinga down in the first place. Now it no longer even phased her as she ran her lips up his slippery cock and hungrily seized it in her mouth once again, bobbing her head up and down faster and faster, seeking his sperm.

"That's right whore," grunted the warlord above her, placing his hands on his hips in an obnoxious posture. "Apologise to me."

"Awwhmm Sssooohrrry," attempted Cookie, speaking around the cock stuffing her mouth full. Mavinga just laughed and put a hand on the back of her head, urging her back to her task. Cookie could feel the lust boiling through the room, with heated murmurs building all around her in the darkness of the crowd. They mirrored her own arousal, rising to a fever pitch as she slobbered and slurped on Mavinga's big black cock under her master's approving gaze. She could sense the tension thrumming through the body of the man looming above her, feel his balls tightening up toward the base of his shaft as he grunted softly in pleasure. She knew what was coming, and she welcomed it.

"On your face," insisted Oscar. "I want you to wear your shame, Cookie."

It was her pleasure to obey. Cookie popped up off Mavinga's cock, gasping and drooling, her fists working together to pump up and down the length of his shaft. Mavinga released just a moment later, shooting a thick spurt of hot, filthy cum over Cookie's upturned face. He fired again and again, leaving her dripping with his essence.

Cookie felt baptised by the fires of her humiliation. Her body thrummed with sexual energy as the foul goo slipped down her cheeks. She basked for a moment under the hot lights of the stage, Mavinga's cock dripping a last few drops of pearly jizz down onto her perfect lips as the erotic energy of the crowd crackled around them in the dark.

Cookie was desperate for a climax of her own. But it seemed that her master had other ideas. He turned back toward the hungry crowd, calling their attention to him once again as he stepped forward and said, "The show isn't over yet, ladies and gentlemen. Anyone who's interested, please step forward. I'm eager to share, and Cookie?... as you can see, she is eager to obey."

...

Tanner's heart was in his throat, and his cock was burning with almost unbearable pleasure in Marta's pumping hand as he watched the men in the room rise from their chairs and make their way to the stage. One burly man got there first, seizing Amelia's hair and pulling her down towards his cock without a word of greeting or warning. Soon two other men arrived, gripping her hands and guiding them to their cocks while she obediently bobbed her head up and down the shaft of the first man.

Other men rushed forward as well, some grabbing her raven hair to rub against their cock, or content to thrust their hard dicks against the soft, oily skin of her shoulders. Women approached too, usually in the company of their man, rubbing his cock as he enjoyed the sight of the public slut and awaited his turn to enjoy her body. Amelia was soon surrounded by a forest of cocks, all pumping for her as they surrounded her in a cage of lust.

Tanner's cock was being stroked as well, and he wished that it didn't feel as good as it did. He squirmed in his seat, deeply disturbed by the disgrace of his former friend and lover on the stage, but uncomfortably aroused as well.

"Look at that little slut," hissed Marta in his ear as her hand pumped up and down his shaft relentlessly. "Maybe Amelia was a strong woman you would be proud to call your own, but you can see how much Cookie enjoys this. She isn't the woman you once knew. There's no one left to save."

The first man, whose cock Amelia was desperately sucking, groaned and pulled out of her blowjob, rapidly jacking his cock. Amelia obediently opened her lips wide, accepting the thick spurts of cum into her wet, waiting mouth.

"Don't swallow!" commanded Oscar from where he watched with a smirk on the edge of the crowd. "I want you to hold it. Along with the load of every other man here. Let them see their handiwork before you swallow it down."

The other men muttered and grunted their approval, lurching closer to surround Amelia and deposit their loads in between her pink, glossy lips. One of the men she was jerking off was next, exploding messily into her upturned mouth. One of the masturbating men was next, and then another. More and more stepped forward, rapidly jerking their cocks, or, if they were lucky, finished off by Amelia's pumping hands. Soon her mouth was swimming with thick, pearly goo, almost filled completely by the jizz of a dozen criminal strangers. And still more came forward. Amelia accepted them all, opening her mouth obediently, with a vacant, submissive expression on the pretty face that was already slathered with Mavinga's foul cum. As many of the men missed as hit, and soon her naked, oily body was splashed with sperm as well. Cookie was the center of a maelstrom of dark sexuality, and she looked right at home.

Tanner was shocked when Marta stood, tugging him forward by his cock. "Wh-what the fuck are you doing?" he hissed, forced to follow or lose his manhood.

"Every other man in this room is filling that little slut's mouth with sperm," said Marta flatly. "I told you, we need to fit in."

Tanner was about to say that there was no way that he could do this, but it was too late. Marta was already mounting the low stage and pulling him up alongside her. It only took one push through the crowd and suddenly he was directly over Amelia, face to face, their gazes meeting.

...

Cookie's mouth sloshed with the thick, hot sperm of a dozen men. The taste of it coated her tongue and roiled her stomach. Another dozen loads covered her face, her tits, her ass, dripping off every inch of her. The white fur of her ears and tail was sticky and matted with jizz. She felt like she was drowning in the foul lust of the evil men surrounding her, their primal desire soaking into skin and down further, staining her very soul.

She had never been hornier in her life. Especially because her master was watching it all. Giving all of these men access to her. Using her to entertain his friends like the sex toy she had become.

But everything she was doing was to serve these other men, and none of her submissive service relieved the volcanic lust boiling inside her. She could only hope that Oscar had plans to take care of her when all this was over.

Another man pressed forward, accompanied by his woman pumping his cock, and Cookie looked up blearily into his eyes. Her heart nearly stopped. It couldn't be. It wasn't possible. The man standing above her looked just like Tanner. Tanner, her partner in journalism. Her friend. Her lover.

But he was half a world away. Cookie didn't even know what she would do if Tanner, one of the most important people in her life, was actually here right now. She was kneeling on a stage, utterly defiled by the filthy sperm of the lowest of the low. If Tanner could see her now, he would be utterly disgusted with her weakness and surrender to her base desires. She had to be imagining things. The mind-breaking pleasure of total defeat was just messing with her mind.

The strange, panicked moment lasted only a few seconds; too short for Cookie to be sure of what she had seen. The man above her grunted and pulsed, just like the men before him had, and added another few spurts of hot cum to the thick, slimy mouthful between her parted lips. The man who looked just like her former friend and lover pulled away, lost in the crowd, and Cookie had just enough time to assure herself that it must have been someone who kind of looked like Tanner before her attention was ripped away by her master speaking again.

Oscar walked toward her, and around him the crowd melted away back to their seats. Cookie's thoughts cleared, and everything felt simple once again. Oscar was the only thing that mattered in the world, and she had done her best to be a good kitty for him.

"Show me," commanded Oscar in a deep, dominant voice. Cookie was in tune enough to his desires that she knew exactly what he meant. She opened her mouth as wide as it could go without spilling to display the thick mouthful of jizz she had collected from her master's guests.

Oscar grinned savagely down at her, obviously pleased. "Good girl." His approval sent a zip of sexual satisfaction through Cookie, lighting her with a warm glow.

Oscar turned again, scanning the room to look at all of his guests, who had returned to their seats. When he spoke again, it was louder, intended for the group as well as his pet. "Now... don't waste the gift that all these fine men have given you, Cookie. Show them how much you appreciate them for helping out with your debut."

Cookie took a deep breath in through her nose, closed her eyes, tilted her head back, and swallowed, draining the thick, sticky mouthful of cum down into her stomach like the good, obedient pet that she was. She didn't feel shame over the degrading act anymore, just the warm, satisfying glow of a job well done.

...

Tanner couldn't believe himself. He had just fucking cum in Amelia's mouth, exactly like all of the other foul men in this room. He had participated in her degradation. Did that make him just as bad as them? He didn't know. He wasn't sure of anything anymore. Marta's insistence that Amelia didn't need saving was starting to almost make sense to him.

"I'm thrilled to see that you've all enjoyed yourselves," said Oscar with a broad smile as he moved toward the front of the stage. He crooked a finger, and two attendants stepped forward. One efficiently clipped a leash to Amelia's collar while another used a towel to clean off at least some of the thick globs of jizz dripping from her face and body. A second later, the man with the leash gave it a sharp tug, and Amelia was led back through the curtains she had emerged from at the beginning of her disgraceful show, the man with the towel trailing behind.

"I'm afraid that brings the entertainment for the evening to an end," said Oscar, spreading his hands in an apologetic gesture, "But, of course, the drinks will flow until the early hours of the morning, and my staff will be happy to feed whatever appetites might arise. I encourage you to continue the evening's fun in a more... individual capacity. I know that I will."

With that, Oscar jumped down from the stage and was instantly surrounded by people eager to speak to him and shake his hand.

Tanner sat back for a moment, feeling numb... but then his expression hardened, and a wave of determination washed over him. What had happened on that stage had been disturbing and heartbreaking, but it also hadn't been Amelia's fault. He had to admit that he was a little disappointed that Amelia had let herself fall so far, but that just meant that she needed him more than ever.

With white-hot adrenaline singing through every nerve, Tanner stood. Marta grabbed his hand, scowling up at him and hissing, "Where the fuck do you think you're going?" but he couldn't be stopped.

"She's separated from Oscar now," Tanner shot back in a horse whisper. "I'll never get another chance like this. I'm going to find her. You stay here if you need to."

With that, he turned toward the stage, moving as fast as he could toward the back near the curtains. Trying his hardest to seem casual, he hopped up onto the stage and slipped through the curtains into a small backstage area. He waited a moment, his heart pounding. He expected any moment for an armed guard to follow him backstage and demand to know what he thought he was doing.

His heart almost burst out of his chest when the curtains parted, but it was only Marta, looking beautiful but furious as she closed the curtains behind her. "Well?" she hissed, "I thought you were Mr. brave action movie star now. Are you planning on just standing around, or are you going after the damsel in distress?"

Her face said it all. She still thought this was a bad idea, but for whatever reason, she had decided she was in it for the long haul. Tanner nodded to her gratefully and turned toward a door on the far wall. It was the only exit from the backstage area beside the curtains, so it must have been where Amelia went. The door opened onto a long tiled hallway leading deeper into the mansion. All they had to do was follow the trail of cum. The attendant with the towel had done his best in the short time he had, but Amelia had still been absolutely dripping with semen as she crawled off the stage, and drips and drops of the thick, pearly goo led down the hallway and into a door on the left-hand side.

Tanner paused with his hand on the doorknob, his mind whirling. Were the two other men still inside? What would he do if they were? Was he really prepared to face Amelia again, this soon after adding his cum to her disgrace just minutes ago? He had seen in her eyes that she had recognised him. Would she hate him now that she had seen his cock spurt with twisted pleasure at her disgrace, stroked by the hand of another woman?

Marta laid a hand on his shoulder. "You don't have to go," she insisted, her voice throbbing with a strange undercurrent of tension. "There's no reason to hurt yourself any further than you already have. Let's just go home and fuck. You'll be better off if you just forget all about her"

But Tanner just grimly shook his head and twisted the doorknob, stepping into the room and facing the destiny he had been hurtling toward for months.

Amelia lay curled up on a plush little sofa on the far side of the room, flanked by the two men that had brought her here. Unfortunately, the two men were armed now. Fortunately, and surprisingly, they didn't immediately point their guns at the man who had burst into the room.

Amelia's head rose, and her eyes widened as she realized who he was. The two men must have been busy since they entered, because they had managed to do a much better job of cleaning the cum off of her. She had also switched her semen-matted white tail and ears for sleeker black ones the same color as her hair. For a moment, they just stared into each other's eyes. Tanner had no idea what he could possibly say to the woman he had just watched take dozens of loads of semen on her face. The woman he had come to rescue.

But he didn't get the chance. It all happened so fast that Tanner didn't have time to react. The door opened behind him, and Oscar Van Heel breezed in. Tanner gasped in shock, scrambling to absorb what was happening. It was the worst-case scenario. The murderous criminal who he had been desperately trying to hide his presence and activities from for months had caught him. Oscar Van Heel could snap his fingers and have Tanner killed easier than breathing.

But, for reasons Tanner couldn't fathom, Oscar just gave him a broad, evil smile, clapped him on the back like they were old friends, then crossed the room to sit next to his new pet.

"So! The boyfriend was finally brave enough to come to the rescue!" he said in a chummy, amused tone. "Just as I planned."

Oscar snapped his fingers without even glancing over toward Cookie, patting his lap. She made eye contact with Tanner, obviously mortified by his presence, observing her disgrace. But despite the flaming blush that lit her cheeks, she obeyed, crawling over to sit on her master's lap.

"And now, finally, I can do what I've been looking forward to for a long time," said Oscar smugly. "Could you fetch a chair for my guest, Marta dear? I want him to be comfortable as I cuck him."

Tanner turned toward Marta, confused. She didn't seem shocked or scared at all that Oscar had entered the room. Just disappointed. Maybe a little sad. She immediately obeyed the command that Oscar had given her, marching to the side of the room and picking up a simple wooden chair, then moving it to the center of the room and setting it down facing the couch. "I told you you should have given up," she said under her breath as she returned to stand behind him, a sad little frown on her face. "You were never cut out to be an action hero, Gringito."

Oscar must have caught the stupified look on Tanner's face, because he laughed, long and deep and cruel. While he did, his hand fell to toy with Amelia's soaking pussy as she lay face down in his lap, teasing and stroking it absentmindedly, like someone would pet their cat, appropriately enough. "Come on, kid," he finally said with a sneer. "Of course Marta has been on my side all along. She told you that she worked for me, right?"

Tanner looked over at Marta with a crushing feeling of betrayal clutching at his heart, but she refused to meet his eyes, staring down at the floor with her arms crossed tightly over her chest in a defensive posture. It wasn't possible. Marta had seemed hellbent on keeping him out of Oscar's clutches. How could she have been working for this monster?

"Take a seat," insisted Oscar, a note of steel creeping into his voice. "I spared you so that you could be here tonight and amuse me. If you won't play along, then I'll just have these two men take you and get rid of you."

The armed guards behind him gripped their guns tight while keeping their facial expression murderously neutral. Tanner absolutely believed Oscar's threat. He didn't seem like the type to bluff. Amelia stared over at him, red-faced and biting her lip as her master continued to rub his fingers in slowly, lazy circles between her thighs. Despite her obvious arousal, she looked scared. Reluctantly, Tanner crossed to the chair and sat.

He was now sitting directly across from Oscar and Amelia on the couch. Given a perfect view, in fact, as Oscar's hands continued to idly play with the woman he had once loved. Oscar looked calm, collected, and totally in his element, leaning back with his pet in his lap and a big grin on his face. Just the sight of the handsome older man filled Tanner with a sense of helpless, impotent rage. He sat and tried to adopt a similar attitude of calm, but he knew he came across as nervous and pathetic. Everyone in the room knew that Oscar held all of the power in this situation, and the cruel criminal had every intention of flaunting his control.

...

Cookie felt totally overwhelmed, unable to process what was happening. First the torrid, humiliating heat of the blowbang. Then the shock of seeing Tanner, on the island and participating in her disgrace against all reason. Then, just when she thought the hazy, erotic nightmare was over and she could relax, this new wrinkle. Coming face to face with Tanner, a symbol of her old life as a reporter. And Oscar had something about him coming to rescue her.

What a cruel joke...

"I suppose I should apologise," Oscar drawled. In full view of Tanner, he slid his middle finger deep into Cookie's pussy, making her whimper and squirm, closing her eyes and turning away from the man she once knew. Despite how strange, terrifying, and awkward this confrontation was, she couldn't help but respond to her master's touch. He had conditioned her to get turned on despite anger and desperation, and now she was a helpless plaything in Oscar's hands. She wished she would be the strong, decisive journalist that Tanner remembered, but it was too late for that. Now she was just Cookie. And Cookie had no choice but to arch her back and thrust back into the delicious feeling of Oscar's probing fingers.

"It would have been a lot kinder to just kill you, I suppose," said Oscar as he began to rhythmically fingerfuck the moaning bitch in his lap. Cookie risked another glance toward Tanner. He just looked... so weak. It was a cruel and unfair thought. Any man would look weak and defeated when he was caught by a man like Oscar. But rationality couldn't stop the faint tinge of disgust that shot through her at the sight of Tanner slumped in his chair, looking at Oscar fingering her pussy with a defeated expression on his thin, pale face.

Oscar suddenly withdrew his fingers and clapped his hand down onto one of Cookie's fat ass cheeks, drawing a ragged yelp from her throat. He squeezed it tight in his hand, physically demonstrating his ownership as he continued. "But everyone has their fetishes. Even me, clearly. But I don't just like dominating women, as fun as that is. Or even just petplay." He leaned forward over Cookie, staring Tanner in the eyes. "I like stealing women from someone else. I love to watch the defeat in a man's eyes as he realizes that his woman belongs to me now, body and soul. That she might have been his love, but now she's my slut, and she does things for me that she never would have dreamed of doing for him."

Suddenly, he looked down, his dark, blazing eyes locking with Cookie's. "Up, Cookie. Time to show your master some love. Reverse cowgirl, I think. We need to show your boyfriend what it looks like when a real man fucks you."

Cookie obeyed. She scrambled up until she was sitting in her master's lap facing Tanner, unable to look away from the expression of disgust and longing on her former partner's face. She hated herself for participating in this ritual of humiliation for them both... yet at the same time, the twisted, subservient part of her that Oscar had been nurturing thrilled at her master's complete victory. Oscar was so powerful that he had taken someone desperately trying to rescue her and turned him into another toy. Just like he had made her into a slutty pet, he was going to make Tanner a weak, pathetic cuck. She could see it now.

Oscar reached beneath her and swiftly unveiled his cock, as usual, he was utterly unfazed by being nude in front of another man. In contrast, even with all of the experience she had with exposure at this point, it still stung her to her core to let Tanner, a man she had shared her bed with, see her this way: a defeated pet desperate for her master's cock.

Oscar slapped his cock against Cookie's sensitive pussy, making her whimper with sexual desire, looking away from Tanner's gaze. It was almost unbearable to be seen this way... but it only enhanced her masochistic pleasure.

"I bet that you thought that this was impossible," gloated Oscar as he angled his cock upward, teasing it along Amelia's throbbing entrance. "You thought that your woman was too strong to lose to a monster like me, right? I can see it in your eyes."

Oscar's cock felt like a burning hot spear as it pierced Cookie's aching pussy, stretching her tender lips wide. A hoarse moan escaped Amelia's lips, and she instinctively rolled and shifted her hips, relishing the feeling of the throbbing cock deep inside her. All of the shame and confusion and heartbreak she had been feeling evaporated in an instant as the animal lust that Oscar trained into her swelled up and overwhelmed everything.

The tiny part of her mind that was still Amelia stared out from her eyes as she began to bounce on Oscar's cock, sheathing him in her hot, wet pussy over and over again. It would be nice if she could break free and show Tanner the fierce, strong woman that he remembered. But that just wasn't her anymore. The months of captivity had transformed her completely.

Now she was just Cookie, the slutty pet who was more than happy to grind her pussy downward into her master's cock, no matter who her audience was.

...

Tanner's world was collapsing around him. The whole time he had been here on the island, he had felt powerless and directionless. Now, that sense of weakness and despair rose up to overwhelm him. He couldn't look away as the woman he had always admired eagerly impaled herself on the cock of a man she had despised just a few short months ago.

Amelia had changed. Marta had been right.

"Trust me, kid," groaned Oscar with a shark-like grin as Amelia shuddered and whimpered, her hips beginning to pump up and down his cock, "You may have fucked my kitty cat before, but I guarantee you've never gotten as much out of her as I have. I've remade Cookie to reach her maximum slutty potential." He reached around Amelia to place a hand around her throat, squeezing in a brash show of dominance.

Tanner was mesmerized, filled with burning jealousy, impotent anger, and strange twisted lust as he watched the criminal monster's thick cock spear into Amelia again and again. The blushing lips of her pussy, dripping with her eager juices, stretched wide around his thick shaft as her fat ass slapped down again and again. Her silky black hair and tail were flying as she bounced, her nipples jolting up and down in a mesmerizing rhythm. Amelia's eyes were closed now, and Tanner could watch all of her angst and conflict melt from her, giving way to the animal lust beneath. Oscar wasn't bluffing. He hadn't just convinced her to fuck him or else... Amelia was genuinely addicted to his cock. It was obvious to see in the way her gleaming body strained and arched in pleasure from the sensation of being fucked by his powerful cock and choked by his dominant hand.

"That's it," urged Oscar with a low chuckle. "Give in to that feeling, you pathetic little worm. She's hotter this way, isn't she? Just watching her get fucked by a real man is much better than fucking her yourself. Marta, you did an excellent job in ensuring our guest was here tonight. Why don't you ensure he enjoys himself properly?"

Even in the depths of the worst experience of his life, Tanner cocked his head and frowned at that. Something seemed... off about what Oscar had just said. Marta hadn't worked to convince him to come tonight at all. In fact, she had only grudgingly told him about the party when it seemed like there was no other way to convince him. And even then, she had tried to convince him not to come backstage, right where Oscar had wanted him to be.

He glanced up into Marta's eyes as she obeyed Oscar's command and approached, and they shared a sudden spark of comprehension between them. She gave the tiniest shake of her head as her lips tightened. Don't say anything. Tanner didn't get it. His head was swimming, and his nerves crackled with adrenaline and rage. But there was nothing he could do at the moment as Marta bent low, giving him a view down her dress that was heartstoppingly erotic even in the fraught circumstance, then freed his cock from his pants once again.

So soon after unloading on Amelia's face, and in the middle of seeing just how deep Amelia's corruption ran, Tanner wasn't able to get hard. His half-flaccid cock squished and flopped in Marta's hand as she began to jerk it. She made a little sound of frustration in her throat and bent low to his ear. "You need to start playing along, Gringito. Like I told you from the beginning, my number one goal is to make sure that you stay alive. If the boss decides that you aren't any fun, he's going to tell those men to take you out back and shoot you."

That hardly made it easier to get aroused, but Tanner believed her. He did his best to clear his mind and just focus on how hot Amelia looked right now. Oscar's thick, veiny cock was making her moan and shake with pleasure as she writhed and bounced in her master's lap. Her curvy body was dripping with sweat and the remnants of strange men's cum. Her face was locked into a grimace of wild, unrestrained pleasure. As her jiggling ass clapped down on Oscar's thighs again and again, one of her hands rose to grasp his hand tighter to her throat. The other squeezed and pinched convulsively on one bouncing breast, squeezing a tender pink nipple between thumb and forefinger. Her mouth opened, and instead of a moan, Tanner was disturbed and aroused to hear a convincingly feline purr roll out. The cat accessories weren't just for show... part of Amelia really saw herself as a pet now.

Tanner's cock began to stir despite himself. Despite his terror, disgust, and heartbreak, the fact remained that Amelia was fucking hot, and her total degradation held a sinister eroticism all its own.

Oscar crowed in triumph. "There, you see?" he urged Amelia, squeezing her throat a little tighter for emphasis. "I knew it. Your little boyfriend is a cuck, just like I thought all along. This is where you both belong. Now thank me. Thank me for making you both what you were truly meant to be." Oscar's moment of triumph had unmasked him, ripping away the cultured, suave exterior and exposing the tyrannical, rabid monster lurking beneath. His lips were drawn back into a savage snarl as he thrust upward into Amelia's tender pussy, making her gasp and moan with depraved pleasure, a helpless doll in his arms. He had spent all of that effort making Amelia a sexual animal... but Tanner saw in that moment that he had only made her match his bestial nature. If Amelia was now a cat, Oscar Van Heel was a rabid dog.

But Amelia either couldn't see that, or the depths of her pleasure meant she no longer cared. Her firm breasts jiggled with the frantic up-and-down pistoning of her hips, and she dripped and shone with sweat. Her thighs trembled, and her wide hips rolled with every upward bounce, taking her master's cock like she was in heat. Tanner's cock was straining hard against Marta's skillful fingers now as he watched Amelia's slutty new sexuality completely unleashed. He could feel an awful, heartbreaking climax rushing toward him, even stronger than the one that he had had a few minutes before onto Amelia's upturned face.

"M-master, I need more," moaned Amelia. "I want to really show the little loser what I can do. More cock... please, master, I want to serve more cocks, just like earlier."

Oscar frowned for a moment. This wasn't part of the script. Amelia was a fuckdoll that wasn't supposed to make suggestions. But after a moment, he shook his head with a low chuckle. "You fucking slut... I should have known that the gangbang would awaken something in you." He gave Tanner an appraising eye while continuing to thrust hard into Amelia from below. He seemed to reach a decision. "You know what? That sounds great. Your old friend seems broken already." He snapped his fingers and called the two men from behind him forward. "You two, get over here. My pet needs something to do with her hands."

The two men looked at each other, then their ugly faces broke into grins. They couldn't believe their luck. The two thugs wasted no time in rushing forward to take their places on either side of Amelia. They kept their assault rifles slung around their necks, but swiftly shucked their pants to their ankles, revealing that they hadn't been quite as passive and stoic as they first appeared. Amelia instantly reached out both of her hands and gripped a cock on each side of her, pumping her fist up and down them greedily while maintaining the up-and-down humping rhythm of her hips.

Tanner felt like something inside him was going to break. The conflict between his awful arousal and the heartbreaking loss of the woman he once knew felt like it was going to split him in half. He was balanced on a knife's edge, ready to cum or scream at a moment's notice. It was clear that Amelia was getting ready to cum as well. Her breathy moans were so frequent at this point that she just kept her lips open permanently, a line of drool slipping down to land on her heaving tits. Oscar's face was locked into a triumphant snarl. His fingers dug deep into Amelia's hips, pulling her down onto his cock. Despite the beautiful woman on his cock, he stared into Tanner's eyes, soaking in the other man's despair. "Fuck!" he growled, "I knew I made the right choice between you and the old man. He was pathetic as he went out, begging for mercy as he died. But I don't think he would have cum as he watched Cookie getting fucked like you're about to. Go on. Let out that cuck juice. Show us how much of a loser you are, boy."

Tanner felt himself go cold from shock as his overworked mind put together the pieces of exactly what Van Heel was saying. Mr. Svenson. Dead. The news hit him like a punch in the gut. He should have seen it earlier. They had both been over their heads from the start. He could see that in retrospect. Van Heel had probably known they were looking for Amelia before they even arrived, considering that Marta had been working with him from the beginning. The only reason he had been kept alive was so that Oscar could get his rocks off with this cruel cuckolding game. He looked toward Amelia, but either hadn't heard, didn't understand the reference to "the old man", or she was too deep in the throes of lust to care. Tanner was going soft in Marta's hand, his arousal draining rapidly away to be replaced by horror.

Time seemed to be moving in slow motion. Amelia's hand pumped up and down the two cocks of the men at her side. Her cunt slid up and down the thick cock impaling her, leaving her shiny with her juices when she bounced upward, and making a wet slap as her hips slammed down. Her shaking thighs arched back, and desperate moans showed that she was climaxing. Cumming hard on her master's cock. Oscar's fingers dug deep into her squishy hips, but his eyes never left Tanner, staring at him over Amelia's bouncing shoulder. He began to frown as he saw Tanner losing stiffness, ruining his fun.

Marta leaned down, hissing in Tanner's ear, "Don't fucking stop now! I promise I'll get you out of here afterward, but you have to finish, otherwise..."

All of a sudden, Tanner was filled with a blank, hollow disgust for the man sitting across from him. Oscar might be the most powerful man in the world, but as Tanner stared into his eyes, he realized exactly how small a person Oscar Van Heel really was. He had spent thousands, if not millions, of dollars to drag a good woman down into the mud, just because his ego was so fragile that he couldn't handle a little bad press. It had taken him months and nearly unlimited resources to torture and break Amelia into a pet, and even that wasn't enough for him. He was barely paying attention to Amelia right now, already focused on breaking Tanner.

Maybe Marta was right that all he had to do was cum, and Oscar would lose interest in him. But Tanner doubted it. Oscar Van Heel was a spoiled brat at his core. True, he was dominant and clever and had bottomless pockets, but what he was doing had a pathetic air of desperation at its core. Oscar Van Heel would rather kill Tanner and Marta than let him get away, and if Marta thought differently, she was fooling herself.

And that left only one option, as insane and risky as it was. Tanner's hand moved on its own, reaching down Marta's inner thigh and pulling out the handgun she had holstered there. Tanner could never be sure if Amelia had insisted on the two handjobs to distract the guards. He also didn't know if Marta had brought the gun that night to make something like this easier, or for some other reason. But in that moment, rational thought didn't matter. Only instinct. Tanner had only shot a gun once in his life before. His dad had taken him to a gun range when he was eighteen. He knew even as he raised the gun that this attempt was much more likely to kill him than to do anything useful.

Oscar Van Heel made a fatal mistake that night. He thought he was the predator, and the whole world was his prey. He assumed that a man like Tanner was so pathetic that there was nothing to fear. But even a rabbit will bite when cornered, and sometimes when you try to crush weaker people under your foot, they snap.

Tanner raised the pistol and fired in one fluid motion. He had no training as a marksman, but there was something to be said for beginner's luck. Oscar had just enough time to register an expression of incomprehension before the bullet zipped right over Amelia's bouncing shoulder and hit him right between the eyes, killing him instantly. Amelia froze, splattered with blood, then screamed, jumping up and away. The two thugs stared blankly at the corpse of their boss as his body let out one or two more reflexive jerks, then slumped to the side. Their shock gave Tanner the time he needed to aim the gun to the left and shoot one of them, hitting him right in the ribs and dropping him to the floor with a gurgling scream.

But by the time Tanner swung the gun toward the guard on the left, the thug was already getting a hold of his rifle and pointing it back toward Tanner. It appeared that his luck had finally run out.

That was when Amelia came out of nowhere, shoving the man with manic strength while letting loose an inarticulate cry. With his pants around his ankles, the man went down hard, spraying the wall with bullets as he went. Tanner was able to jump to his feet and rush over to empty the handgun's clip into the man now failing uselessly on the ground.

Everyone froze for a moment; the only sound was the gurgling gasps of the first guard dying on the floor.

"What... the... FUCK!?" shouted Marta, her eyes as big as saucers as she stared around the bloody scene that the room had become. Tanner was panicking nearly as much. He dropped the gun from nerveless fingers, running his hands compulsively through his hair. He had been working purely on instinct, not even realizing what he was doing.

Amelia, naked but now also splashed with blood, let out a whining wail and, much to Tanner's disgust, crossed the room back to where Oscar lay dead on the couch, shaking him, tears streaking down her face. She was obviously in too much of a panic to be any use at all right now.

Marta, however, recovered quickly. "Puta Madee! You really fucked us over, Gringito. We need to get the fuck out of here," she said darkly. "No one is going to come running right away just because of gunshots and screams. Believe it or not, those are pretty common sounds in this house. But once someone realizes exactly what happened here, all hell is going to break loose, not just here, but all over the island."

Tanner crossed the room to try to pull Amelia away from Oscar's dead body. She appeared to be in the middle of some sort of mental breakdown, and although Tanner couldn't exactly blame her, now really wasn't the time. He stared doubtfully at Marta. "You keep saying 'we'... but it looks like you were working with him right from the start. Why should we trust you?"

For a moment, Marta looked wounded, then her lips pressed together into a thin, hardened line. "Look, Tanner," she snapped, "maybe I was on Oscar's payroll, but we both know that I wasn't following his commands exactly. He wanted me to lead his men to you so he could put a black bag over your heads and shove you in the back of a car the first day you got here. I convinced him to hold off until he was finished training Cookie so he could cuck you. I never lied about wanting to pay back this little bitch for saving my life. My plan was to get you off the island and tell him you slipped through my fingers. That was at great personal risk to myself, by the way. But fine, let's put that aside. I understand your skepticism. You don't have to trust me, but you need me. You need a way to get from here to the airport as quickly as fucking possible, and you just don't have the necessary connections. Once we are off the island, we will probably be more or less safe. There's going to be a bloody succession struggle, and murdering the people who killed Oscar might be useful for earning some cred, but not useful enough to bother pursuing us to the mainland. Do you really think that you can make it off the island before things go to shit?"

As much as Tanner hated to admit it, he didn't have a good argument against that. He had needed Marta from the moment he stepped on the island, and that hadn't changed. Mr. Svenson was already dead, and now his top priority had to be his survival. And Amelia's as well.

Tanner stared doubtfully at Amelia, who was helplessly sobbing, her eyes blank and staring. The past few months had been unimaginable trauma for her. She had been broken down and reformed into a completely new existence. And the nightmare wasn't yet over. Yet Tanner had to admit that he felt a certain amount of disgust toward her. What happened wasn't her fault, but regardless of how it happened, she was a depraved slut who had gotten off on fucking her worst enemy in front of him. He wasn't sure if taking Cookie back with him from the island was truly "rescuing her", even if they did make it out in one piece. Maybe Amelia didn't exist anymore and was beyond saving.

Regardless, he had come this far. There was no way he was leaving her behind now. Tanner slipped off his suit jacket and put it around Amelia. Then he looked back at Marta and nodded grimly. "Fine. Let's get out of here. We aren't going to figure any of this out until we're safe."

...

Two Years Later

"Oscar Van Heel was a murderer. A charmer. An evil force, but a compelling one. This is the story of a complex man, and the evil that lurked in his heart. And it's the story about me, and how my brush with insanity changed me forever."

The room erupted in applause as Amelia closed the advance copy of her new book, after finishing her reading of the introduction. Tanner clapped along with them, his eyes searching Amelia's face for signs of strain. But right now, in the moment of triumph that had been her goal since she was a little girl, she looked radiant. Whatever other darkness clung to both of them since the events of those horrible months years ago, it wasn't present here. Amelia looked as sharp and intelligent as she had ever been.

"I'd like to thank everyone who made this possible," said Amelia with a broad, confident smile that would have been impossible a year ago. "My publisher. My manager. My mother. And especially my fiancé. I love you, Tanner." Amelia reached her hand out across the crowd toward Tanner, and the audience "awwww'd" dutifully. Tanner waved sheepishly, but his eyes remained focused on Amelia, soaking in her moment of triumph.

The sight made Tanner's heart ache. It hadn't exactly been easy. They had barely made it onto the flight off the island before San Isidro erupted into a hellscape of violence. The brutal succession struggles for Van Heel's criminal enterprises had been front-page news for months, and despite Amelia's... lingering trauma, the requests for interviews and book deals had started pouring in the first week that they were back.

The book was mostly bullshit, of course. It was an immense achievement that Amelia had managed to write about her experience at all, but the American public wasn't ready for the complicated, erotic, terrifying truth of what she had gone through on that island. Amelia and Tanner, working as her editor, had kept the story of captivity and strange connection with a monster, while editing out all of the sex. Considering the fact that sex had been Oscar's main method of control and domination, that made the book much more fantasy than reality. But so far the public was eating it up, hailing it as a brave and unflinching combination of exposé on Oscar Van Heel's life and crimes and memoir of Amelia's harrowing captivity. Amelia was being lined up for countless interviews, and a movie deal was apparently in the works.

It was all too much for someone who had been through what Amelia had. Even now, it was obvious that this speaking engagement was too much for her. Tanner's heart sank as he watched the pride and energy of the old Amelia drain away between one instant and the next, leaving her looking scattered and weak. Her eyes pleaded with Tanner as they locked eyes. There was no way she would be able to make it through the promised Q&A.

The event organizer wasn't happy, but Tanner refused to bend. The last thing any of them wanted was Amelia having a breakdown on stage. Especially with the types of breakdowns she had these days.

Tanner rushed her off stage toward the green room, smiling and waving to the crowd as he passed. He stopped an aide on their way in, saying, "Nobody goes inside this room until I say it's ok, got it? Not your boss, not your boss's boss, nobody. If the president of the United States says he needs to talk to Amelia right away, you tell him to fuck off, got it?"

The aide licked his lips and nodded nervously. Tanner knew that there was no chance that the kid would refuse to let his boss in, but he had to take his chances. Amelia was leaning on him and breathing heavily, her eyes closed and her face flushed. She needed to blow off some steam, or she was going to have an episode. He would have to take the dubious privacy.

Wasting no time, he entered the green room. Marta looked up from the couch with a frown, busily tapping away on her phone as always. "Don't tell me she finished up the Q&A already," she said in an exasperated voice. Marta had taken to the role of Amelia's manager like a shark to water. Her cutthroat instincts and keen judgement had more than made up for her initial lack of connections. But she had never forgiven Tanner for agreeing to the engagement with Amelia. Tanner had come close to cutting her out of their lives entirely when she asked why he would want to marry a broken sex toy, and luckily she had been a little more careful with her words since then.

"Nope, but she needed release. You brought the stuff right?"

Marta's frown deepened, but she opened the black duffel bag next to her on the couch and pulled out the tail, ears, and collar, tossing them to Tanner. "She's getting worse. You know that, right? All of this stress and pressure is having an effect, just like I said it would."

Tanner ignored her for a moment, focusing on Amelia. He sighed and glanced at the door, wishing that they could just wait until they got home... but it was clear based on Amelia's harsh breathing that she wouldn't make it that long. "Ok Cookie. You can come out to play," murmured Tanner reluctantly.

The sense of relief that poured off Amelia was instant and total. She stripped off her clothes as rapidly as she could, tossing them aside almost with disgust and snatching the collar, tail and ears greedily from Tanner's outstretched hands. Tanner tried to conceal his dismay as Amelia donned the black ears and tail, fastened the collar around her neck and dropped to all fours.

It was actually a fairly major improvement from how Amelia had been immediately after returning from the island. It had taken months to convince her to stand up and act like a regular person. A short stint in a specialized care facility had gone poorly when Amelia had tried to fuck every male member of the staff who got within five feet of her. It had taken a few months, but Tanner was finally able to convince Amelia's mother that she was better off under his care.

Painstakingly, over the course of a year, Tanner had worked with Amelia. She was able to leave the house and act as a fully-functioning human for hours at a time, almost back to her old self. She had taken an active role in writing the book using her old research. A romance had kindled between them in that time. A strange, halting, and awkward romance that was partially built on Tanner's guilt and Amelia's deep need for help, but one that Tanner didn't have the willpower to deny. Sometimes Tanner felt like he was exploiting Amelia. Sometimes he felt like she was exploiting him. But Amelia needed someone devoted completely to her in order to fight back against Oscar's insidious training, and Tanner was the only one who could be that for her. No one else would understand.

Despite the progress they had made, when they were in private, she was still more comfortable as Cookie than she was as Amelia; going on all fours, wearing the accessories... and indulging in the depraved appetites that Oscar had programmed into her.

Which was exactly what she needed now. Cookie stared up at him with heated eyes, Tanner's clever, intelligent fiancé once again fully submerged in her slutty, feline alter ego. She rubbed her cheek demandingly against Tanner's crotch, and he reluctantly unzipped his fly with one last nervous glance toward the door of the green room.

Cookie needed to suck and fuck regularly to satisfy her sexual need for degrading domination. Once those needs were met and her mind was more clear, she was able to act as Amelia again. But meeting the needs of someone who had been forcibly programmed to have an endless libido was easier said than done.

"You can't just ignore it," said Marta from the couch, crossing her arms and giving Tanner a hard stare as Amelia began to enthusiastically suck his cock, her eyes glazing over as her mind turned off. "I told you from the beginning that you aren't dominant enough to fill in for her old master. Not in the long term. We need to consider a more... forceful solution."

Tanner could only shake his head, but he knew that Marta was right. Amelia was getting worse. She needed to be dominated and fucked more and more often now that she was having so many high-pressure public appearances. Tanner loved her, but he couldn't keep up. He had never been that dominant in the bedroom, and he could tell that, no matter how much Amelia loved him, he wasn't enough for Cookie.

But it wouldn't be easy to stomach Marta's proposed solution either...

"Are you listening to me, Gringito?" asked Marta sharply, snapping her fingers and calling Tanner's attention away from the cat girl desperately slurping on his semi-erect cock. 'We need to bring in a bull to give this bitch the dick she's been craving, otherwise she's going to lose it and turn into a sex kitten in the middle of an interview!"

Tanner had no good response. He knew that she was probably right.