This story arose from a meeting with 'Belle' on an internet chat site. The initial scenario and characters were entirely her own idea; her first contribution was a detailed description and a request that thereafter I take charge. Thereafter she followed me obediently although in truth I was trying to be obedient to her vision. I have rewritten the dialogue into a story, submitted here with her permission. Our words and actions are pretty much exactly as we exchanged them.
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I first saw the fox girl in the cages along with a gang of others they had just brought in. I was idly looking for a new slave and there was something about her; definitely mostly human but with triangular ears covered in reddish hair which twitched nervously as she adjusted to her cage. Her nose was subtly non-human and almost tended towards a snout, from which a spray of fine whiskers emerged. It would have looked absurd and it is impossible to describe without sounding ridiculous but the gene splicers had done their work well with this one; it was not the features of a fox stuck haphazardly on a human. Rather her whole shape was subtly different; her body lean - muscular but without bulging, a flat stomach and as far as I could see under her filthy clothes, small breasts which were slightly higher than they should have been. Her movements as I later learned were liquid, darting, feral. But that day she was still, sitting at the back of the cage while the others, eager for a kinder master and a quick sale, disported themselves, pouted or opened their legs to indicate their eagerness to oblige.
She however sat at the back, still and observant, as if trying to avoid attention rather than attract it. I find this frozen watchfulness charming and an excellent sign. It suggests a creature who has already been broken and so half the work is done (but only half.) It is true what they say, that to get a really good slave you must break before you rebuild. But unlike most people I dislike the breaking. While other people take pleasure in that and skimp on the remaking, it is the latter that interests me most. With this one I later learned it was the usual story - passed from owner to owner as a child's plaything, a pet, a curiosity. Never in one person's hands for long and so no need to invest in good treatment. Her last master had obviously been violent and, I presume, sexually demanding. Her cheek bore a fading bruise and the way she crossed her arms over her small breasts and kept her legs tightly closed suggested this. Some behavioural details I later learned confirmed this though I never bothered to get the details. She was psychologically damaged, almost reduced to nothing however - that was the main thing. I hoped she was not too physically damaged too, but of course I could re-sell her if she was.
But I have not mentioned her crowning glory, and the thing which drew my eye at first: her tail.
Continuing from the base of her spine was a complete fox's tail of red hair - bushy and flowing, with a white tip. It flowed from her lower back without seeming artificially stuck on - entirely natural, in a bizarre way. It moved behind her in an unconsciously liquid way, prehensile, erect and at the moment I first saw her, with the white tip peeping over one shoulder. It made sense of her bizarre looks; without it she would have seemed unfinished, unbalanced. I paid the price without haggling and had her taken home. She neither struggled nor fawned, remaining watchful and still.
Over the months to come I began the task of remaking her. That is to say, I issued instructions for her remaking; part of the pleasure of wealth is to say "Do this" and it is done... My staff were told to be correct with her but distant. Never abusing or threatening, looking after her physical needs but offering no rewards or warmth - that role was reserved to me. It was I who fed her treats, occasionally petted her, allowed her to sleep at my feet, chatted to her in a friendly, soothing tone. I made no sexual or other demands, other than obedience. I did not threaten or punish - there was no need. Her fear of punishment, instilled by others, and her need for my approval and affection were enough and she slowly became loyal, calm, and appeared devoted to me. My staff told me that when I was away on business she slept on my bed and appeared to pine. Getting onto my bed should have merited discipline but I forebore to administer it. I took her devotion as a good sign.
I clothed her in short, tight shorts which had to be specially made of course and a tight fitting sports bra which covered her whole breasts but enhanced their firm, almost conical outline. You will think me silly for putting such obvious clothes on her but she is my slave, not yours, and I care nothing for your opinion. I wanted to see her vulpine movements as clearly as possible and delighted to see her firm calves, slender legs and flat stomach as unencumbered by clothing. I covered her sex parts because I did not want to tempt myself too soon, and also as a sign to her that they were not significant - yet. I did of course equip her with a collar as a sign of her status but I am pleased to say I never had course, during that first year, to attach the leash to it. While others would boast of how they controlled their slave this way, I was privately proud that my control did not depend on such dull, physical means.
After a full year, I judged the time was right. I had never made sexual demands of her, nor even let her see me naked. She was aware that I took other slaves into my bed, for at times she was penned away for an hour or a night and she must have been aware why. But she never asked of course, simply appearing grateful to be released. This morning however I thought it was right to begin. She had awoken before me and stepped lightly from her cushion beside my bed to the balcony overlooking the sea. The rising sun silhouetted her and shone through her tail, making it appear to glow red. Unbidden, my cock arose as it had many times before when I had watched her; up to now I had resisted its call but this morning I decided it was time. I arose and took off my dressing gown, walking to the balcony behind her. "Good morning Belle" I commented, in a normal voice.
She jumped and turned, her eyes widening at the sight she had never seen before. She appeared confused, uncertain as to what to do. I moved closer and was pleased to see that she remained calm and obedient rather than shrinking and cringing; my months of aloof kindness were having their effect.
"It's time to learn your main task Belle. I have a busy job and I can get tense and tired. Your job will be to soothe me. Can you guess how you will do that?"
She paused: "With a massage Master?" she asked, looking up at me with a slight smile, breathing slowly as the sun rose behind us.
"Very good Belle. Now do you know what this is? It's my cock. Say the word Belle..."
"Cock." She repeated the word, smiling and seeming to seek my approval. "That's your cock." She pointed to it.
"Yes Belle it is. Good girl. Your job is to please my cock and if you do so I shall be pleased. Now how many ways can you think of to please it?"
