For the first time in a long time, he woke up a free man. There were no ropes on his wrists, no cuffs on his feet, no gags in his mouth. The sensation of having total control of his limbs and jaw was so foreign by then, Mako needed a moment to remember just how everything worked. He blinked the haze of his sleep out of his eyes and looked down at himself. There he was in the crisp morning light: unbound but still naked, his flaccid member laying dormant between his meaty thighs on the chair he sat in, truly and utterly free. She let me go? He wondered, not sure why the thought made him more nervous than excited.

"Good morning, Mako."

Her voice. He snapped his head up and found her awaiting his eager eyes across the room. Bathed in shadow beside the half-open window next to her, Mercy sat in a chair of her own, watching him. Her long legs were crossed casually over one another, her foot wagging playfully in the air. Like a snapshot in his mind, he remembered kissing her boots the day before. Just how pathetic had he been? When Mako thought of his submissive actions towards his captor, it was as if he were thinking of an entirely different person. He would never be so weak to grovel at the feet of some scrawny woman… would he?

Even in the shadows, her striking blue eyes pierced through the dark and bore into him. She wore armored plating over a cotton blouse, covering her up entirely from her neck down. It was her combat gear. Looking at it, Mako wondered if he was in for a fight.

"You slept well," she said, speaking in that soft serene way of hers that made him feel completely at peace. "I untied you and you didn't even stir. You must have been very… satisfied last night."

More snapshots flashed in his mind: Mercy on her knees in front of his chair, the sunsetting behind her, leaning down and forward, taking him inside her mouth, the way she looked swallowing his ejaculate after. He shivered just thinking about it.

"I told you you'd have a choice to make today," she went on, oblivious to his perverted thoughts… or was she the one who'd put them in his head? "And so here we are. Are you ready to decide, Mako?" He opened his mouth, but her hand lifted sharply into the air and made a pinching gesture. "Don't speak."

I'm not bound anymore you bitch, he thought with a frown. You don't tell me when I can talk and when I can't. …and yet, he found himself unable to disobey her. He tried, certainly, but no words would surface out of his throat. He licked his lips, swallowed, and resolved to simply nodded his head. She doesn't control me, he thought, as if to retain some pride, but the words wrung hollow in his head. She did control him. Even without the restraints, he was her prisoner.

"Good boy," she said, smiling. Her hand released its pinching gesture and unfolded to direct his eyes to his left. "Your decision lies beside you."

Mako followed the direction of her palm. On a little table next to the chair he sat in, a black leather collar awaited. His eyes narrowed on it uncertainly before turning back to Mercy.

She nodded. "Easy enough, isn't it? You see, Mako, I've been holding you my captive for a few days now. I think I've done… some good work with you. But to keep you here any longer would simply be cruel. You need access to a shower, to a solid meal, to some semblance of exercise. As fun and rewarding as its been, I can't keep you prisoner here any longer. Do you understand that?"

Her words were washing over him slowly, he had to piece them together one at a time. When he had, he nodded. He felt numb.

"So what I'm going to do for you is give you a choice. Your first option is for me to hand you over to the proper authorities. You'll be given to Overwatch official first, under my request, but what happens to you from there… I truly don't know. You'll be imprisoned, surely. I think that much is obvious with your dark past."

He swallowed. It wasn't easy.

Mercy let the quiet linger a moment. Her smile broadened a bit as she eventually went on, "And the second option is that collar. Pick it up, Mako. I want you to hold it in yours hands. But don't put it on. Not yet."

He glanced at the thing again. It didn't look like much, in truth. It was just a collar, the same sort you'd put on a dog. When he lifted it from the table and tested it between his hands it felt sturdy enough, the leather crisp and strict in his fingers, but it was still just a collar. If the choice was putting some stupid necklace around his throat or spending a life rotting in some high security federal prison somewhere, the decision was an easy one.

"The second option is for you to put that on yourself," Mercy explained. "Keep in mind that you, Mako, have to put it on. Not me. That's an important distinction. If I put it on you it wouldn't really be the same, would it? No, by you choosing it… you'd be willingly giving yourself to me entirely."

His eyes lifted back to her. Those few words had sent a shiver up his spine. Between his legs, his cock stirred. The collar felt heavier in his hands.

"If you place that around your neck, you belong to me. You can look at the inner band, my name is there. It means you're mine. And if you're mine, Mako, then you're my property. Accordingly, I'll think of you as such. You'll simply be a thing I possess and nothing more. I won't treat you with any more dignity or respect than I would a piece of furniture or a desk lamp. I want you to understand that. That collar is a symbol of your complete and total submission to me."

The collar grew heavier still, so much so that Mako had to put it down in his lap, fearing he might drop it and look like a weakling in front of her. He rubbed his fingers, trying to get the feel of its leather off of him. It felt warm in his lap, almost burning.

"Now I want you to choose," Mercy continued. "Lock yourself up in that collar or don't. Either way, be thankful for this small bit of power I've allowed you."

For a long time, Mako only sat staring, first at the woman who'd captured him, then at the collar sitting on his lap. Mercy was quiet throughout, letting him bask in the silent weight of the looming decision. Tentatively, he reached for the collar, his fingers sliding against the leather bands. It's just a collar, he told himself. You've been in jails before. You swore you'd never go back. It's just a collar. When he glanced back to Mercy, she was still sitting so casually, her foot wagging so playfully, her perfect lips curled ever-so-slighty at the corners to let him know how much she enjoyed his agony. He realized then he could rush her. He wasn't fast, that much was obvious, but there wasn't many places to run in the apartment. He could corner her, grab her by that scrawny neck and hold her down. Then he could have what he really wanted all along: to fuck her senseless right in that beautiful, tight little pussy of hers. He started going stiff just thinking about it.

"Choose," Mercy commanded, and the sternness of her voice brought him right back down to reality. She was in control, not him. But if he obeyed… if he did everything she wanted, crawled on his knees, barked like a dog, fetched her fucking morning papers, whatever it was… if he pleased her, maybe she would let him inside of her. The moment would be worth it all, wouldn't it?

He shoved the collar against his neck, wrapped himself in it, and snapped the locks crisply in place. Somehow, the sound was deafening. When his ears stopped ringing, he knew he had to say something; had to let her know she hadn't broken him entirely just yet. "There, you bitch," he growled. "I'm in your fucking collar. Now get back over here and suck on me like you did last night."

Mercy stood and paced the length of the room. The heels of her boots clicked menacingly against the floor, and with each step she seemed to grow in size. Mako shrunk back into his chair, regretting ever opening his mouth. When Mercy had made her way right in front of him, she showed him a white cloth in her palm. He had only enough time to wonder what the hell it was before she pressed it tightly over his mouth and nose. He breathed deep of a strange aroma, felt his eyes roll back in his head, and fell asleep.

When next he opened his eyes it seemed as if he'd only just closed them. He knew that was impossible, though. For starters, his whole world had gone and changed while he was out. The drab grey of the abandoned apartment had vanished entirely. The sun, which he'd relied on the last few days as his only source of illumination was missing too. In their place was a bedroom with soft golden lights and red walls, and massive iron bars all around him. He was sitting down, and under his bare ass and thighs was a soft, plushy carpet. He planted his hands on it and sat up. He hadn't been mistaken about his captivity: he was caged. He was locked away in the corner of a bedroom, bars encasing him entirely in every direction. There was enough room to stand up and walk a few steps in either direction but no more. In the corner of his cell, the carpeting disappeared and was replaced by a square of linoleum that curved down into a single drain. It was a shower. Mako slowly clambered to his knees, then to a stand. He moved to the bars of his cage and took them in his fists, shaking them violently to test their strength.

"Mmmmnn!" He tried shouting, but couldn't open his mouth. His hands moved to his face, where a heavy leather muzzle was strapped tight, gagging him. He imagined he earned it with his last little outburst back at the apartments. He snarled into the thing anyway, enraged at having his mouth forced shut again. He punched the bars of the cage, and when that did nothing, kicked at them too. He hurt his foot.

The bitch put me in a cage, he thought, trying to get calm before he did more damage to himself. What the hell was the point of avoiding jail if I'm being locked up in a cell anyway!?

He was pondering just that when one of the room's two doors at the far wall slid open and Mercy walked in.

"Mmm!" Mako mumbled, pressing himself against his cage again and taking the bars in his fists to shake. "Mmm! MMN!"

Mercy didn't so much as look at him. She only hurried to a dresser beside the room's King-sized bed, retrieved something, and left, locking the bedroom door behind her. Her eyes never even came close to moving his way. Mako glared into the empty room, unsure of what had just even happened. His rage came again, and he had nothing to do with it but stomp his feet into the carpet and his fists into the cage. He paced what little room he was allotted within the cell till the cool linoleum against his soles reminded him he could shower. Just above the top of the cage was a nozzle with knobs on either side. He tested them till he figured out which was hot, and then blasted himself with steaming water. It burned in the best sort of way as he stepped beneath it and was cleansed of his hate. A bar of soap was in a dish against the back wall and he used it to scrub himself every which way he could. When he finished, he did it all over again if nothing else than to simply occupy his time.

After, he felt clean, but little else. He sat back on the floor, stared vacantly down at his own hands, and waited for his captor to return.

She did maybe an hour or two later, it was hard to tell without the sun or any clocks to mark the passing of time. Instantly, her mere presence filled him with energy. He pushed off his butt and got to his knees, crawling to the front of his cage again to grab the bars. He mumbled into his muzzle, trying desperately to get the woman's attention.

Mercy ignored his gagged pleading, acting as if she didn't hear it at all. The woman went to the corner of the room opposite Mako's own and stood before a wall-length mirror. Her arms folded back gracefully behind her and pulled at a strap keeping her armor in place. She removed it, took the hem of her blouse between her fingertips, peeled it up over the top of her head. Mako was transfixed as the shirt was removed and the creamy pale canvas of the woman's bare flesh was revealed. She unhooked her bra and it slid away to the floor. In the mirror's reflection, he could see her breasts bared and exposed. He moaned lustily when she moved and her nipples swayed. She used her toes to slide the boots from her feet, then wiggled herself out of her bottoms. Her ass moved side to side as she pulled them down, and like a hypnotizer's pocket watch, Mako felt himself fall under a spell as he watched.

Mercy stood only in her panties then, thin things that they were. He traced the shapely curves of her behind, giving every lovely inch of her the attention it deserved. His hand fell between his legs, where he'd gone stiff as a board. His wrists weren't tied in any way, there was nothing stopping him from pleasuring himself. Yet when he closed his palm around his shaft, he had the distinct feeling that Mercy's eyes were on his in the mirror, disapproving of his perverted intentions. He swallowed, whimpering into his muzzle, and slowly removed his hand. She decides when I should be pleasured, he thought. Because I'm her… property.

When she'd finished admiring herself in the mirror—though Mako knew that little act was more to torment him than to admire herself—his captor sauntered to her giant bed, folded herself down into it, and hid away all of her naked beauty beneath the sheets. Then, when the lights dimmed to almost nothing and the woman was but a mound of shadowed curves atop the mattress, Mako felt incredibly alone. He tugged at his cage bars. They were cold and strong and a stark reminded he wasn't going anywhere. The carpeted floor was soft, at least. He laid down on it and closed his eyes, wishing he had Mercy in his arms. It was with that thought he drifted to sleep with.

Time passed, maybe an hour, maybe ten. The only thing Mako knew was that when he came around from his sleep, he was lying on the floor of his prison, staring up at Mercy, watching him closely from behind the other side of the bars.

She's looking at me! The thought was enough to get him moving in a hurry. He wrestled himself over and up to his knees. He stared up at the nude Goddess towering over him and implored her with his eyes to not leave him. She stared back down at him, emotionless. After a long moment, she said, "You're going to wash me," and released the locks of his cage door. It swung back on its hinges and just like that he was free. Mako stood and stepped out and then she was right there in front of him, still clad in nothing but her panties; perfect, perky breasts with their nipples pointed in his direction. She was close enough to reach out and grab, to restrain. He could do it. He could just grab hold of her and have his way with her and she could do nothing to stop him. Then why don't you? A voice asked inside his head and he didn't know how to answer it. He wanted to, more than anything, but he couldn't. It would displease her.

"Follow," her command came as she turned her back to him and headed into the door he hadn't seen opened yet. When she disappeared inside, he heard water start up shortly after and wasted no time trailing along to investigate.

The room was, in fact, a large bathroom, domineered by a massive walk-in shower covering the half of the room opposite the door. Mercy was already inside, standing in the stream. She'd removed her panties, leaving that tantalizing strip of blonde pubic hair exposed. The water poured over her, dripping from her nipples, glistening her smooth skin, coating it.

"Wash," she commanded. Mako was afraid. He didn't know why, but he felt the whole thing was some sort of trap. Why would she allow herself to be so vulnerable in an enclosed space with him, nothing restraining him but the muzzle? It didn't make sense. Didn't she fear him? Her eyes bore into his, daring him to do anything other than obey. He swallowed a lump in his throat and shuffled forward to take up a bar of soap. She turned around and held her arms out to her sides. His hands moved carefully to her shoulders and lathered them, spreading the soap out across her arms with his palms. He noticed then his own hands were trembling. Weakling, he cursed himself. Just take the bitch! She's kidnapped you, tortured you! You owe her this! Grab her and take her! But all he did was soap her up. He was careful with her too, gentle where she looked fragile, soft where he thought she deserved it. He ran his soapy hands down her sides, feeling the bumps of her ribs beneath his fingers. He stepped closer and moved his palms around to her flat belly. He rubbed her there, working his way up, soaping her carefully. He stopped just below her breasts, too nervous to go any higher.

"Go on," she commanded, and he obeyed. He took two handfuls of her breasts from behind, savoring the feel of them in his fingers. He squeezed, but not too tight. When they were lathered and slick with soap, he moved on; he had to. His crotch was incredibly uncomfortable by then; his cock so hard it hurt. He washed her back and then decided to continue on from his knees. The hard floor hurt, but he knew she'd like him on his knees, submissive. He soaped her behind, taking far longer than he had with any other body part. The way her flesh moved when he jiggled her ass was breathtaking. He rinsed her off and soaped her again, but knew he'd have to move on soon or risk her anger with him.

She turned around, and there was her crotch right in his face. Mako stared transfixed a moment. If he wasn't muzzled, he might've pulled her thighs around his head and ate her. Gagged as he was, he could only breath heavily and stare. His eyes traveled up her water-slick body, moving past her breast with great effort, and found her face. She watched him, still emotionless. She looked impatient if anything, and that lit a fire under Mako, eager not to displease her. He snapped back to his senses and went on scrubbing her clean, working her thighs and hips, but not daring to reach between. He washed her knees and calves, and Mercy was kind enough to life her leg and plant her foot on his shoulder so he could better finish the rest of her lower half. With her leg lifted, he could see the mound of her pussy dripping wet. It was impossible to pry his eyes away until Mercy slapped him across the face. The muzzle absorbed some of the blow, but a good bit of her palm connected and put stars in front of his vision. He looked up and the stern set of her jaw and brow told him he'd been bad. He hurried to scrub her ankles and feet clean, not daring to look between her legs again.

"Good," she said as he finished. Her hands lowered into his hair and massaged his scalp. Mako closed his eyes and moaned. "You're a good boy, aren't you?"

He nodded.

"You like washing me."

He wasn't sure if that was a question. He nodded anyway.

"You worship me."

He looked up. She really did tower over him then, so powerful and high. Maybe she really was a Goddess. He nodded.

Her eyes narrowed, just slightly. "Did you masturbate last night?"

"Nnm!" He grunted, frantically shaking his head. He knew she wouldn't want that, he knew and he obeyed.

"Tell me the truth."

"Nnm! Nnm!" He went on shaking. His hands clasped together, begging her to believe him.

Mercy watched him, twisting her lips side to side. After awhile, she reached back and turned off the water. The bathroom grew thick with silence. "Alright. Dry me."

He nodded, hurrying back to his feet and grabbing a towel from a rack just outside the shower. He was gentle with her as he dabbed and patted, removing the moisture from her flesh. She commanded him to do her hair and he did. She commanded him to put the towel back and he did. She commanded him to go into the other room. He did.

There, she marched him back to his cage. Mako whimpered into his muzzle to let her know he didn't want to be locked away again, but Mercy ignored him and guided him inside with her palm on the small of his back. She closed the door and the locks snapped into place. He turned to her and gripped the bars.

"I'll take you out when I need to use you again," she told him, headed to her dresser and put clothes on. Mako only watched, wishing it was him who was clothing her, if nothing else than to just touch her flesh again. She left without acknowledging him at all.

Mako sat down and stared at the walls of his cage. She'd warned him he'd be nothing to her if he put the collar on; that he'd be thought of as furniture, not a person, just a thing. He understood now what she'd meant. She would do with him what she wanted, when she wanted. He existed only to be used. How long would it go on? Was she still trying to 'fix' him? He wasn't sure… of anything really.

All he knew was that she was gone and he was still horny. He crawled to his own littler shower, took himself in hand, and masturbated to the lingering remembrance of what her soapy breasts had felt like cupped in his palms. His orgasm came without much pleasure, certainly not like when Mercy took him in her mouth, but it at least relieved the tension in his crotch.

After, he sat down and tried to get comfortable. He felt like a dog waiting for its master to come back home. And Mercy was his master. He understood that now. He was her slave and she was his master, and he could only hope she'd be a good one to him. He knew there was no way off this road now.

He was on it for the long haul.