FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

When he had started this year, Moses could never have imagined that this would be how he would end it. Yet there he was, bound to his Master’s bed alone in the gentle darkness, left waiting as night slowly drifted to its peak.

Impulsively, he tested the bindings for the thousandth time, each limb pulled in turn at the supple leather cuffing him in place. The creaks and clinks of metal and fabric refusing to yield were just another patient reminder that he was going nowhere, while a dull, yawning ache had already begun to steep its way into him. It made him wonder how long, however brief, he had been in this position, and how long he would have to stay in it until Master decided otherwise.

It was arguably not the most uncomfortable position he had found himself in throughout this past year, but it was evident that it was ultimately not for his benefit regardless. With arms outstretched between the bedposts and his legs pinned apart by Master’s tried-and-tested spreader bar, Moses was trapped upon his back with expertly wound rope anchoring that same bar to the headboard. Doubled over as he was, it was impossible to ignore just how exposed his ass, and by extension his hole, was.

At least he no longer felt winded in such a position, not when Moses had spent a year under Master’s personal tutelage fixing his diet and getting into shape. Where once the twenty-something Rottweiler had been on the heftier side and lacking direction fresh from flunking college, now he was trim and focused, just as many other aspects of his life had become over the year. Led by his Master, he had been given purpose, and through his Master he finally felt fulfilled and happy. He knew where he belonged, and he was right where he was supposed to be.

Tied to their bed, waiting for Master to join him.

The indelicate thumps of someone approaching beyond the bedroom door were impossible to ignore, and the rising noise alone was enough to send Moses’ heart into a feverish pace. Even after all this time, the young canine’s nerves still got the better of him as the anticipation bristled under his skin. There was a muffled sound of brushed carpet as that same door was opened, a warm, soothing light spilling into the room and across the bed where Moses lay. Only it didn’t last, the dog finding himself cast in the shadow of a gargantuan silhouette stood framed in the doorway. For a single second that seemed like it would never end, the shrouded figure silently regarded the bound Rottweiler, almost as if he were savoring the sight before him. A helpless albeit willing victim with neither hope nor desire for escape, ready for him to use however he wished.

“I’m sorry I took so long, boy,” the figure said in a deep yet soft voice, an unusually paternal tone in any other context, “But I wanted to be sure everything was perfect.”

Moses swallowed, pushing what little trepidation may have been catching in his throat to reply as clearly as he could,

“I understand, Sir, I was happy to wait.”

The larger male stepped forward and with a habitual jolt of one leg, he kicked the door closed firmly behind him. As the room snapped back to darkness, Moses’ sight was forced to adjust once more while the figure stepped toward him. It was only when the man was standing over him, looming from the foot of the bed, that he was able to see clearly again.

Master stood before him in all his glory, the matured donkey having always been considerably taller and stockier than the canine could have ever dreamed of being. While it had been difficult at first to find himself involved with a man nearly three times his age and twice his size, he had grown out of any small-minded ideas in their earliest months together. Whether it was behind closed doors with family and friends or out in public where anyone could see, Moses couldn’t care less what any thought, whether it came to proudly sporting Master’s collar or subserviently following his every command no matter what.

Given the age difference between them, the donkey had developed more of a gut despite the couple’s training regimen together, but Moses knew intimately that the man was built like a titan. Even in the dark, he could see the donkey’s thuggish stature framed by swollen, muscular arms and a hard stomach overhanging two equally powerful legs. It also wasn’t lost on Moses that Master was as naked as he was tonight, which left everything from his coarse forest of graying fur visible trailing down to his gruesomely fat sheath and sack. There wasn’t a leather vest or chaps, a rank, musky jockstrap, or even a harness taut against his chest. Moses knew what that meant, deep down. It was just him, on his own, the two of them together.

His Master was being romantic.

“I’m sure you were,” the donkey snorted, his muzzle curled in a wry, knowing smile, “Not that you had much choice.” He leaned down, his face clearer as he broke through the shadows, “Not that it even matters what you think.”

“Of course not, sir.”

Moses’ eyes slipped from the donkey’s head and down into his arms. From afar, he hadn’t noticed them, but up close he could see that his Master was cradling an assortment of objects in his paws. Even if Master was undressed for that night’s festivities, it seemed the donkey had no plans for Moses to be the same. His bindings were but trimmings for what the donkey began to present one by one from his arms, performatively holding them just enough for Moses to see each one in turn before they were moved beyond his line of sight.

A pair of gloves, seemingly medical judging by their rubbery appearance, though they were a dulled matte black.

A gas mask, its valves already fastened to an industrial corrugated hose that trailed to a bulky canister.

A drinks bottle, not too dissimilar to those they took to the gym, only whatever swam inside was far too thick to be just water.

A handful of small vials, all of them dwarfed in Master’s grasp and with various bright, innocuous labels wrapped around murky glass.

“How are you feeling, boy?” The donkey said as he laid down the last of his trinkets. “As I said, tonight will be the night.” The male lowered himself down, hunkered atop the bed, and poised between the bound canine’s legs. Moses could feel the shimmering heat of his Master dangerously close to him, even if he couldn’t see, and his mind raced at how close his hole was to the donkey’s bloated crotch.

But instead he felt paws, warm and strong, engulfing his hips and buttocks with long, patient caresses. They even graced the edges of the cage fixed around his sheath, favoring instead to roll and squeeze his oft-forgotten balls that he hadn’t been allowed to empty since the year began. Regardless of how indirect the donkey was being, the physical sensation was enough to have Moses fighting back mewls of pleasure, betrayed by the cage’s tip beginning to ooze with a cloudy bead of precum. But the dog’s state wasn’t the donkey’s concern at that moment, as with a grim visage Master’s voice lost just a touch of its unmoving authority for the slightest hint of concern, or perhaps even a resemblance of apprehension.

“There’ll be no going back after this. None at all.”

“I know, sir.” Moses couldn’t fight the shiver as those paws explored him. His heart thundered in his chest with every second that lingered between them. “But I want to.” He hesitated before speaking again, “I want to give it to you.” Another swallow. “I want to give everything to you.”

Fingers squeezed against his flesh, where once loving caresses now turned into more predatory gropes. The donkey’s tone found an even sterner edge,

“You know how far I want to take you.” His paws dug harder, as if to punctuate how serious his intentions were. “Once you’ve given it to me, you’re mine forever. Not just some boy, but mine. My slave.”

“Yes sir, I want that. I want to be yours.”

“Say it,” the donkey hissed, his own breathing seeming as sharp and anxious as the dog’s own, as if he were as strung up as the bound male before him waiting for his answer. “Say it properly. Say that you’re mine.”

“I’m yours, Master Norman.” It felt as if Moses’ heart might explode, but he held his nerve, “I am your slave.”

There was a pregnant pause between them as the donkey seemed to consider Moses’ admission. His paws stopped in their place, his eyes bore deep into the dog’s own, and all it left was the hard, heaving breaths of the donkey’s chest. The room was growing darker as the night crept along, the new sound of faint fireworks erupting in the farthest distance of premature celebration. It was fitting then, as Moses held Norman’s stare with unflinching resolve, that the donkey did not give in too quickly to the moment between them.

“Good boy.” His breaths were still shallow, but there was relief hidden in each one, as the donkey guarded himself to Moses’ wandering thoughts. Impassively, he watched as Norman reached aside for his hidden implements and first brought back the initial pair of gloves. With only a slight struggle did he manage to wrangle them on, the absurdly extra large size barely encompassing the man’s bludgeon-like fists. They gave pathetic groans as Norman flexed his paws, the test proving that at least the gloves might hold up even at their limits.

It was again another fitting realization as the donkey slid his covered paws up against Moses’ body.

“Now you know you’re safe with me,” Norman said, though it was much more a declaration that it was an effort to comfort or remind the canine before him. “I’ll never let anyone hurt you.”

“Unless I want you to…” Moses smirked, joined only a moment later by the donkey’s chuckle. Norman shook his head with a sincere yet sadistic smile,

“Of course. And if I want you to too.” He reached over again, this time returning with the large mask apparatus, one suited perfectly for a canine’s head. One much like Moses’ own, “So you know how this is going to work.”

Moses had worn that same mask many times before, so it seemed out of the ordinary that Norman would be so patient with him on this occasion. But with the opening of the gas mask turned toward him, he could see the custom fitted gag already in place waiting for his maw to swallow.

The piece of fetish gear had been modified for a removable gag, one that Norman could swap at will whenever the mood struck him. Sometimes he wanted to hear the dog beg for mercy, sometimes he wanted to just keep him quiet, and others, like now, he wanted to push him to his limit. Instead of the typical ball mouthpiece, Moses saw the comparatively small but by no means easygoing dildo jutting toward his lips. His only choice was to obediently open his muzzle and surrender to the phallus sinking into his maw while Norman carried on,

“As usual, without safewords, we’re gonna use taps.” The donkey’s voice became muffled, even at points impossible to hear, as Moses’ head was ensconced in its airtight hood. Straps snaked around his skull, tightened together and buckled shut, leaving him with the soft, hollow noise of his own filtered breathing and clear plastic between him and the room beyond him. Norman came in close, his gloved paws feeling around the dog’s head to check the mask’s seal and unscrew the rebreather canister, all before holding Moses’ in his palms and looking directly into his eyes,

“One tap to keep going, two to slow down and pause,” Norman leaned in, “And importantly three to stop completely. You got it, boy?”

Moses ran his pinned tongue against the gag’s underside, grimacing inwardly as he could sense just how perilously close it was to his throat, and realizing right away that his only means of getting air was inhaling as deep as he could through his nose alone. Unable to speak then, he could only nod his understanding. Norman's smile widened, and he kissed the mask’s visor.

“Good boy.”

Settling back onto his haunches, the donkey found himself a comfortable seating position between the canine’s open legs. Though it was harder to see, he could still feel the man’s presence close to him, close enough that he could have sworn he was a hair’s breadth away. But beyond his paws alone, Norman had yet to properly touch his slave, and though the thought of that frustrated Moses, he knew he just had to be patient. Even if the donkey was taking his time, he knew to trust the man and not try to rush things. It wasn’t just simply the physical act of submission, it was the feeling of letting go, of pushing aside impulses and instincts, and surrendering control to another so that they could go at their pace.

The Rottweiler did his best to quiet himself, urging his mind to drift as best he could and focus on the sensations in the moment. The texture of the bedding beneath him, the cuffs against his limbs, the mask hugging his face, the artificial cock suckling in his mouth, the warm metal cage against his crotch, the heat of Master brushing up close to him.

The sudden shrill cold pouring over his hole…

He flinched without thinking, though his bindings held him firm and in place. Norman didn’t even seem to register the reaction, however, as he now held the would-be water bottle aloft in one paw. With the bottle upturned and its cap opened, the contents drooled in a slick, silky waterfall down against his ass and found the natural valley between his cheeks. While Moses knew all too well the feeling of lube, he swore that the donkey was applying far too much when more and more began to coat his rear. By the time Norman seemed satisfied with his work, the canine could feel dribbles sliding down the nub of his tail and soaking into the bed.

The bottle was snapped shut, but Moses felt it placed just to his side, the donkey clearly not done with it just yet as his paws played with the fresh helping of lube.

Hard, pudgy fingers sank through the liquid as it was smeared wherever it had not yet touched, eventually leaving Moses with a pervading sense of wetness all over his rear. But only then did Norman finally make his move, as one singular digit found its way back to his hole and pressed firmly at his rim.

After a year of serving his Master in every way imaginable, it was no surprise that even a finger as thick as his was swallowed all too eagerly by the dog’s hole. Moses moaned softly after waiting so long for the donkey to use him, and he held his head back with half-lidded eyes while Master sunk his finger right into the knuckle. His breathing hitched as Norman worked that finger back and forth, slowly but insistently, and curled around the dog’s rim as if to test what strength it had.

“Good boy, that’s it.”

It wasn’t to last, however, as almost right away the finger withdrew to be joined by another. Moses was almost giddy at the feeling, his body being stretched in an all too familiar way that he had been trained to yearn for. Fingers were a far cry from the real thing, but he was simply happy to no longer be left wanting as Master began to slide those digits through him with an increasing pace. Surprisingly gentle, but unquestionably forthright, Norman fingered him with a clear intent as the overly generous lube was worked deeper into his slave’s willing hole.

“You’re doing so well.”

Two fingers became three, and finally, Moses was being met with a little difficulty. It was nothing he hadn’t taken before, but he was not accustomed to the donkey pushing things this quickly. Sometimes it just meant his Master was pressed for time, but sometimes it meant he was getting caught up in the moment. Moses lifted his head to meet his Master’s primal glare, and it was clear which of the two it was. His mouth huffed against the gag, his cuffed fists tightened into balls, and he did his very best to try and relax his muscles so that the donkey could have his way with him.

When three fingers tried to turn into four, Moses managed a strangled yelp. Two taps of his paw mustered enough of Norman’s attention to go no further, though he didn’t remove the three digits still lodged in his ass. The donkey idly worked them round, back and forth, side to side, as Moses fought to catch his breath. By now, Master would have transitioned to using toys, such as his favorite being any of his largest plugs to keep Moses full while he turned his attention elsewhere. But that wasn’t going to be the case tonight, and Moses was scared that maybe for once he’d gotten ahead of himself and promised his Norman too much…

“You’re safe, slave,” Master said, barely above a whisper and capitalizing on his newfound power over the dog. He sidled even closer to Moses’ bound body, “I’ve got you. You’re okay.”

Though he almost wasn’t aware of it, he soon felt the donkey reach across the bed and then to the tubing fitted to the mask he wore. He grunted loudly and harshly as Norman pulled away from his rear, his fingers yanked indelicately out of his slick hole before he turned to hold the hose in that same paw. The other now held one of those indiscriminate glass vials and it deftly unscrewed the cap keeping it sealed. Rather carefully, the donkey moved the bottle’s neck deep into the open hose and held it there. Moses could only continue to breathe as normal, but in chorus with his Master’s voice, the fumes he inhaled sunk deep into his blood with alarming speed.

“Deep breaths,” Norman coached, his eyes locked with Moses as he forced the canine to become consumed by the noxious chemicals, “Let it open you up. Give in to it.”

A year ago, Moses had no idea what the term “poppers” meant, though he might have made some innocent guesses. But with his Master’s interests and even just his sheer size, the donkey had wasted no time in introducing the naive submissive male to the ill-reputed party drug. Yet it was just another in a long list of things that kept him drawn to the older donkey, craving that pounding rush in his blood as amyl nitrate coursed through his veins. With his Master in control, he could let absolutely everything go, his body an empty vessel for the man to use and abuse however he liked.

Moses breathed deep, just as he was told, and surrendered to the numb, seeping sensation as every muscle in him relaxed.

“Good slave,” Norman said, making no effort to hide both his pride and his arousal. Moses could feel the firm yet still soft press of his erection sliding against the small of his back. “That’s it, just like that…”

Master’s fingers returned to his hole, only he didn’t waste time with three and went straight back to four just as he had intended. The stretch was uncomfortable, just like before, but any real pain was a fading memory as the donkey gradually eased his paw in. Four fingers were pursed together, squeezed by the still desperately restricting muscles of Moses’ hole, but it was clear they were losing the fight against the more powerful donkey’s hold.

He squeezed himself into the knuckles, much like before, and he forcefully kept his paw there, even when Moses’ body began to protest. The canine squirmed and writhed in place, his guts doing their best to expel the invading digits, but Norman’s strength made it a futile effort. Even as the rush of poppers began to abate in Moses’ system and he became increasingly aware of the uncomfortable large presence in his ass, the damage had already been done. Norman had already broken him down.

But he wasn’t done. Already, the look in his eyes told Moses exactly what he expected from him next.

The donkey’s thumb rubbed over Moses’ taint, his hole suckled against the unfeeling girth of his Master’s knuckles at their widest point. Even then, he felt stretched to his limit, but he knew it was nowhere near close to what Master wanted.

“We’re so close now.” Moses whimpered, if only to himself, as his Master spoke down to him. While the reality was that the dog was putting in all the work, that he was the one making the biggest sacrifice, that he was the one being pushed to breaking and well beyond the limits of what should be physically possible, the way his Master talked it was as if they shared the burden.

“Breathe for me again.” The donkey returned again with the bottle of poppers. Once more, they were held flush with the dog’s only source of oxygen, and with no choice else he did as he was told. “Ten seconds, nice and deep. Ten, nine, eight…”

Moses tried to count in his head. He could feel his blood thumping at his temple, his mind foggy and unable to focus. The seconds dragged on, far longer than what he thought were just ten mere seconds.

“...six, five, four…”

The warm, all-encompassing feeling of the drugs searing into him was climbing to its highest point, until Moses swore he could take no more. He needed to breathe, he wanted fresh air. Hell, he’d have taken sucking down his Master’s own dank sweat if it meant his lungs didn’t feel close to bursting.

“...three…” His head thrashed back, though it didn’t dislodge his Master’s grip on the hose. He continued to inhale the nitrate.

“...two…” Gone was the pain in his ass from the donkey’s paw buried to the knuckle. Now all he could think about was his burning chest and his weakening body.

“...one.”

The bottle was removed, and Moses raggedly drank in all the stale air that he could. He didn’t even care if it tasted like damp rubber or if his body ached from the strain of everything being done to him. He almost didn’t register as Norman began to move more freely and easily slide his paw from his gaping hole.

“There we go,” Norman cooed as he effortlessly pushed, pulled, and pried four fingers through the dog’s open ass. “That’s a good boy.”

Moses could just about manage a deep, guttural groan as his consciousness began to latch onto the physical experiences his Master had been so kindly suppressing. He felt unimaginably open, his rim stretched to a point he didn’t think it had ever reached before, even when he thought about all the times his Master had bred him. The introduction of yet more lube was lost on him, the greasy slickness melding together into one seamless sensation at that point. Moses could sense how deep the fluids were pooling into him, however, as his now widening ass made light work of gulping each and every ounce down.

Underneath it all though was the errant pressure seizing and retreating from his prostate. Moses was under no illusions that his Master had next to no interest in allowing him to cum, but while the donkey may not have been intentionally striking his prostate, it was inevitable that he did every so often. It was enough to leave the canine’s cock drooling, painfully tight inside its cage, with nowhere to go but drool his precum down across his stomach. Somewhere in the back of his mind, somehow with his hole being worked open by four fingers on alternating paws, he wondered what would happen if he came when Master was finally and fully inside him…

“You ready, slave?” Norman was smearing another disquieting amount of lube across his meaty fists, again shuffling just that little bit closer into the canine’s form. It was impossible to ignore the dangerously hard cock now pressed into his back. The donkey’s arousal was perhaps as painful as his own, even if his abstinence was unlike the canine’s in being both temporary and, at that moment, voluntary.

Moses didn’t feel ready. But his Master did, and he trusted his Master.

He willed himself to nod. Every instinct in him fought against it, but he was already past the point of no return.

Knowing that he had surrendered himself for what could be the final time, he felt himself teeming with electricity as Norman moved to pick up the poppers.

“Here we go then,” he said through hushed tones, “No turning back.”

Moses watched as, instead of putting the vial directly to the mask’s tubing as before, Norman returned the rebreather in its place. The Rottweiler couldn’t quite see what the donkey was doing, but the telltale jolts of the tube being screwed into place followed by the sudden artificial suction of air, it was clear he’d reattached the gas mask’s canister.

Except it only took one breath for Moses to be overcome with a dark realization that his Master had doused the rebreather’s filter with those same poppers. The effect was as much the same, where every inhale brought with it a heady rush of the drugs, and the dog felt his body alight with the coursing sensation. But now he knew there was going to be no escape from it, the canister permanently affixed to the hose that now dosed every breath he took with a helping of amyl nitrate. It was dangerous, even when under the watchful gaze of his Master, but the fear of helplessness and losing everything to the donkey now working back at his rear was as much a rush as the drugs were.

“You’re gonna be mine. My slave.”

No matter how desperately Moses threw himself within his bindings, he wasn’t going anywhere and he resigned himself to the donkey’s depraved whims. Wheezing behind the mask, choking on his gag, and trapped in place, Moses could only watch as Norman, lit up by the crescendo of new fireworks outside, slid his paw into his hole.

Mercifully he had started with four fingers, though he kept them spread at their widest and not bunched together like his body reflexively wanted. But any strength there had been in his muscles, any whatsoever left over from the donkey’s onslaught and drug-induced stupor, it was all gone. There was nothing left to stop the man from taking what he wanted.

Moses could only pitifully huff and moan as his weakened body gave in, his ass stretched to what felt like its absolute breaking point. His eyes fixed on the sight of the donkey’s gloved fist finally pulling out four fingers only to purse them back together with the thumb right alongside. Whether it was by design or as a happy accident, his feverish pants only sucked down more of the fumes wracking his body, turning him into a loose, hollowed hole greedily swallowing the fist being fed to it.

Slowly, painfully, torturously, the donkey eased his fist inside. Moses was spread wider and wider, feeling his hole split apart around the crude mass of the donkey’s paw, and then somehow he was forced even wider still. He was so close to crying out that he considered even tapping three times, but he wanted this. He wanted his Master inside of him. He wanted to take him all.

With his panicked, delirious stare trained on his Master’s fist, both he and the donkey bore witness to the moment where finally, after what felt like an age and an insurmountable ordeal, the fist sunk all the way inside.

Moses couldn’t help but break out in a broken mess of half-drunken laughter and half-frightened whines, somehow all undercut by the simpering grunts and groans of orgasmic pleasure rattling through him. His hole engulfed the donkey’s fat paw to the wrist, the unnatural shape carving itself into the canine’s memory. It wouldn’t go much further, its first time inside the dog being itself his limit, but Norman held it there and refused to move. Even with Moses writhing in his bondage like a possessed creature, lost somewhere between the soaring poppers and the deepening discomfort, his Master forced him to acclimatize.

Around them bloomed the bellowing explosions of fireworks celebrating the turn of a new year, and the dazzling array of every color imaginable scattered across the Master and his proven slave. Joined fist to ass, Norman cradled the dog in his lap, legs sliding up against his sides, and his drooling cock burrowed into the prone male’s back. He just about had the sense to relieve Moses of his mask and let his body breathe fresh air after his tumultuous high.

The fist remained inside, however. While Moses’ shakes quelled and his fevered moans softened, his Master slowly moved his fist. At first, back and forth, then side to side, just like he had with his fingers.

Then he began to pull back, and Moses howled as his body did the only thing it could do in its addled state and pushed the fist out. He thought that would be it, somewhere in the back of his mind convinced that he’d done what he needed to do and that it was over. But just as those fingertips were just skimming at the yawning edges of his gaping hole, the donkey pushed back inside.

“Now you’re all mine, slave.” Norman hissed as Moses let loose strangled cries that broke between pleading for mercy and begging for more. “You’re my slave.”

---

Thank you for reading!

If you enjoyed the story, please feel free to favorite, rate, and comment to let me and others know that you liked it! It's sincerely appreciated.

This story was available via early access on Patreon before it was published here. To read future stories early and more for just a few dollars a month, please consider signing up to help support me and my work!

If you'd still like to help out but can't commit to monthly payments, then please consider buying me a coffee instead as even a little goes a long way!

Until the next one~