Peter Crawley realised he wasn't as young and vigorous as he had been as he worked through the night to destroy any evidence of the presence of Natalie, the young student he had abducted and now had locked away in his custom-built dungeon below the house.

His first job was to get rid of her clothes and other possessions. He carefully fed them into the fire of his boiler, ensuring that every last item, including her shoes and handbag, was completely destroyed, leaving only a few unidentifiable ashes, which he would later fork into his garden as fertiliser.

The most dangerous task was to dispose of her car, the natty little BMW he had persuaded her to hide for him in his garage. He waited until 3 AM before donning a HAZMAT suit, complete with built-in shoe covers and accessorised with latex gloves and face mask. Taking care to make sure that there was no-one on the street outside, he drove the car to the parking lot of a motel about twenty miles away on the sleazy side of town.

Having abandoned the car there, he stripped out of his protective clothing, packed it away and walked the half mile or so to where he had left his own car earlier in the day. On his drive home, he slowed down as he crossed a bridge and tossed the car keys into the fast-flowing river below.

His last job was to burn the suit, gloves and mask in the furnace and, a little after five in the morning, he crawled into bed. He slept well and late so that, by the time he had showered, dressed and eaten breakfast, it was after noon before he returned to see how his unwilling guest was faring.

She was, of course, still standing spreadeagled in the bondage in which she had left her, but he was surprised that she didn't move from her slumped position when he opened the door and switched on the light. Her body was covered by marks from the whipping he had given her, ugly red welts from her knees to her shoulders, front and back, criss-crossing where he had hit her one way and then the other. He smiled at the memory of her suffering.

He went over to her and, grabbing her hair, lifted her head, wondering if she had died in the night. It wouldn't be a total disaster, he thought, but it would be an inconvenience, because he had great plans for this former rich kid. He was pleased to see her eyelids flutter and finally open, allowing her to look at the face of the man she had mocked for so long and who was now taking such sweet revenge.

"Good morning," he said with an evil grin, "I won't ask if you had a good night because I think we both know you probably had the worst night of your life - so far, at least. So, today we begin your training in obedience and submission. I'm going to remove your gag and find out how much you have learned."

As the gag was unstrapped and pulled away, a long string of drool ran from Natalie's lips to the object which had been filling her mouth, which she now saw was a fat, penis-shaped rubber bung. She exercised her aching jaw to try and get some life back into it.

He took a permanent marker pen out of his pocket, and Natalie felt the tip of the pen press against her forehead, before beginning to move as he wrote a word in block capitals, large enough to cover her entire brow.

"It says 'SLUT'," he explained, "because that is what you are, like most young women these days - dressing provocatively, acting lewdly, teasing every guy you meet. So, what are you, Natalie?" Natalie looked at him with fear in her eyes, trying to work out what he wanted her to say.

"I… I'm a slut, Sir," she croaked eventually, hoping this would appease him.

"A worthless slut, don't forget that," he corrected her, keeping his expression stern, trying to disguise the smile of triumph. "Good, I'm glad you are starting to understand. But don't worry about your past life of selfish hedonism, I'm going to change all that. It's time to get you dressed for your new role in life as my sex kitten." Natalie didn't know what that meant for her, but it filled her with fear - she'd already found out how viciously cruel this madman was, and the thought of being his prisoner and having to satisfy his perverse desires was terrifying.

She watched him approach her with a black rubberised corset, which he fastened around her waist. It covered her from her hips to just below her breasts, providing a supporting half-cup but leaving them fully exposed, while thrusting them forward obscenely. He pulled the laces at the back progressively tighter, crushing her until she was struggling to breathe, before tying them off and hiding them behind the panel provided.

Crawley now placed a leather collar around her neck. It was obviously for a pet of some kind, studded, and with an identity disc hanging from it. He fastened it tight enough to be uncomfortable but not choke her.

He released her from the manacles holding her and lowered her to the floor, her legs unable to support her weight. Without an ounce of strength in her body, Natalie could do nothing but lie there and watch as he began to work on her.

He started by putting strange pads on her elbows then, taking each arm in turn, bent it so that her hand was by her shoulder, before strapping her forearm to her upper arm with wide, black bondage tape, wrapping it tightly from elbow to shoulder. He did the same to her legs, first putting on knee pads and then strapping each leg so that her heel was pressed hard against her buttock. Natalie didn't understand what he was doing, but it scared her regardless.

To her surprise, he produced an Alice band which had two small triangles of felt on it and, as he put it in her hair, she realised that they were meant to be ears - little kitten ears. This suspicion was reinforced when he took the marker pen out of his pocket again and blackened the end of her nose before adding three thick lines from between her nose and mouth out across each cheek, clearly representing whiskers. He then wrote across her chest, making the lettering big enough to stretch from shoulder to shoulder. When he had finished, she looked down and could make out the word 'KITTEN'. He pressed the marker against her lower abdomen, just above her pubis.

"And finally, 'PUSSY'," he said as he wrote, "which is my new name for you. It seems appropriate, as it is the part of your body I'm going to be using most." He grabbed her around the waist and lifted her, turned her over and put her back down on her four stumped limbs. Natalie realised that the white elbow and knee pads he had put on her were meant to be her paws!

"There!" he exclaimed, standing back to admire his work, "you look lovely, Pussy. And now, it's high time I used you for the purpose for which I brought you here."

He knelt down behind her and, with a strong hand between her shoulder blades, pushed her down until her arms splayed out on either side, her breasts squashed below her, her cheek pressed against the floor. Natalie knew what was going to happen next, but there was nothing she could do to stop it, all she could do was try to prepare herself.

His fingernails dug into her hips as he grabbed her and thrust forward, forcing his throbbing erection deep into her, causing her to cry out in pain at this merciless violation. He fucked her hard, without regard for her discomfort or pleasure, working himself into a frenzy as he pumped her. For her part, Natalie just tried to endure the terrible experience, grunting and gasping at the pummelling she was receiving. But, after a few minutes of this, she was astonished and alarmed to feel her body responding in the most animalistic way, her arousal building unstoppably despite the disgust and humiliation she was experiencing, caused by his brutal treatment of her. When he finally reached his climax, shouting uncontrollably as he shot his load into her, she screamed at her own orgasm, before feeling tears of shame coursing down her face.

Crawley took a few moments to catch his breath, then walked around his bound victim until he was in front of her. He lifted Natalie's head by the hair, pulling her back up onto her knees and elbows, before kneeling down before her. He pressed his still-hard member against her lips, wiping his semen and her juices on her cheek.

"Your master is offering you a tasty treat, Pussy," he said, pushing her hair out of her face, "I suggest you accept it gratefully - and quickly." Her outrage and distaste battled with her fear of his reaction if she tried to resist, but it was an unequal fight. She opened her mouth and leaned slightly forward to illustrate her willingness to do what he clearly demanded of her.

He fucked her face just as violently as he had fucked her cunt, grabbing the hair on either side of her head and repeatedly thrusting in, forcing his glans all the way to the back of her throat. Natalie choked and gagged on his cock, struggling to prevent herself from throwing up as her airway was invaded and blocked. She was taken by surprise as her mouth suddenly filled with his semen, giving her no choice but to swallow. He deliberately pulled his still-erupting member out and sprayed cum into her face, just adding a little more to her humiliation and debasement.

"Very good, Pussy," he said in a self-satisfied tone, "I'm very pleased with you. You certainly look like the cat that got the cream now! I think you've earned a nice rest before your training as my pet begins in earnest." He clipped a lead to her collar and led her towards one of the dark corners of the cell.

Natalie struggled to keep up as he walked away, finding it awkward and difficult to walk on her knees and elbows. As she fell behind, the lead began to drag her, pulling the collar tight, the sharp edges of the brand-new leather rubbing painfully against the skin of her neck.

She was shuffling into the darkness, but Crawley switched on another downlight, and she saw that she was being taken towards a cage, just about big enough to accommodate her in her current state, where she wouldn't be able to stand up or stretch out. The cage was made of thick metal bars and, as she was pushed in through the open door, she saw that there was a beanbag at the back. There were also two bowls, one containing water, the other what looked like cat food.

With some difficulty, she managed to turn around, and looked back at the professor as he closed the door, fastening it with a large, heavy padlock, something she felt was entirely unnecessary given that she was already bound, and locked in a dungeon under his house. She clearly couldn't escape, and nobody would be looking for her here anyway. The sole purpose of the lock was to reinforce her sense of isolation and inescapable imprisonment.

"Good night, Pussy," Crawley said, reaching through the bars and squeezing one of her hanging breasts, "I'll be back later and we can continue your training as my pet." He turned and walked away, turning out all the lights before shutting and locking the door, leaving Natalie in the impenetrable darkness.

The bound woman shuffled around until she could lap from the water bowl and, reluctantly but desperately wanting to assuage her hunger, she ate several of the wet chunks of meat from the other bowl. When she had choked down as much as she could face, she shuffled over to the beanbag and crawled onto it. She knew there was nothing she could do to change her situation, and she quickly fell into an exhausted sleep

* * * * *

"Nat? Nat! Natalie! Wake up!" The urgent hissing was accompanied by violent shaking.

Natalie sat bolt upright, trying to understand where she was and what was happening. She quickly realised that she was no longer naked and bound, no longer locked in the cage in the dark. In fact, the bright lights dazzled and disoriented her for a few moments before she regained control of her wits and fully woke up.

She was in the lecture theatre, flanked by her friends, who were smirking at her, clearly very amused by what they had been watching. At the front of the room, Creepy Crawley was droning on as usual in his inimitable monotone. It seemed that she had fallen asleep in mid-lecture and had one of the most bizarre, sexually charged dreams of her life. She surmised, from her soaked panties and the slick wetness of her thighs, that it had been a wet dream! She thanked her lucky stars that she had chosen to wear a skirt today, rather than pants or jeans, which would have shown her embarrassment to the whole class.

She stared at the professor, trying to envision him acting as he had done in her dream, but it was impossible. She had to come to terms with the fact that her overactive imagination had created a truly exotic and, frankly, disgusting fantasy and projected it onto the entirely guiltless lecturer before her.

But what a fantasy! She had never had a rape fantasy before, and bondage was not something she had ever been particularly interested in. And being turned into a pet, where the hell did that come from?! But, somehow, this dream of being abducted, chained up, stripped naked, beaten, raped and humiliated, had turned her on in the most extraordinary way. Her hands were still shaking at the thought of being treated like that.

The lecture came to an end shortly afterwards, and she made a beeline for the door, desperate to get back to her room and try to understand what had happened here. Her first thought was to try and relieve the extreme arousal she was still feeling. She had an urgent appointment with Mrs Palm and her five lovely daughters, doing a little five finger exercise between her thighs! After that, she thought she might try to understand her newly-discovered fetishes with some Internet research…

"Natalie, "she heard from behind her, "could I see you for a few moments, please." With a strong feeling of déjà vu, she turned to face her teacher and, apparently, her dream abductor!

"Yes, Sir," she said nervously, her heart pounding in her chest, the fantasy flooding her mind as she turned and walked towards him. Suddenly she was wondering if it was possible that Professor Crawley was actually going to act out her dream. The fear she felt at that crazy thought was overwhelmed by a sudden and uncontrollable desire to submit and obey.

"H-how may I serve you today, Sir?"

THE END