FSE

Furry search engine

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'Werl, mistress, what about him?' the hunched creature slurred from the roof of the warehouse.

'Oh my,' the other figure purred, this voice female. 'Yes, he's quite the one I'm looking for. Nice work, Stag.'

The cheetah reached up and stroked the crouched bulk of the creature, who murred contentedly. The creature's armour shone in the moonlight, and even though it was hunched over, spreading its weight onto its knuckles, it was still much taller than its "mistress." Two pinpoints of dim yellow flashed in the dark of the night, sighting down at the green dragon below. The dragon, a male, stumbled along the street, exclaiming to the world in general how "The Wizards Staff has a Knob on the End" in the cry of the generously drunk. Slowly, Stag climbed out of sight.

***

'Wuzzah?' Trace mumbled. 'Throw me out, will they? Hm?' he asked a store mannequin through the glass of the shop window he had slid up to. His wings and tail hung limply. They were erect and firm when he was sober, but it was Friday night and Trace was having none of this sober business.

The tall dragon blundered away from the window to the middle of the street and raised the bottle to his lizard snout. Empty.

Tossing the bottle away in vague disgust, he drunkenly wondered what to do next. He'd been chucked out of most of the bars in town. Trace wandered off, blissfully unaware of the dark shadow creeping along behind him.

Stag crept up with an oily rag grasped in one clawed hand, moonlight gleaming off the strange armour he wore. Or maybe it wasn't armour. The midnight blue plates seemed to be part of Stag's flesh.

Stag raised the sleeping potion drenched rag, ready to smother Trace, when the dragon simply keeled over into his arms.

'Huh,' Stag sighed. 'Mistress?'

The cheetah stepped into the moonlight from a nearby alleyway. Her mages robes clung to her curvy body, and she sauntered up to Stag and the loudly snoring Trace, long furry tail wagging expectedly. In her right hand she held a staff that was nearly as tall as she was.

Brushing her long black hair out of her feline face, she bent to inspect the dragon, pulling his wings to their maximum wingspan, holding his unresisting face in the light, and finally taking a quick peek down his jeans.

'He's perfect, Stag. I've never had a dragon before. You shall have a reward tonight,' she purred. 'How did you subdue him without even touching him? You've not been learning magic behind my back have you?'

'No, mistress. He's so damn drunk he just fell asleep.' Stag hauled the dragon onto his shoulder, the black plate that covered him rattling. The creature grunted slightly with effort.

Mistress clicked her fingers. Almost immediately a black, horse drawn carriage rolled into view from around a corner, except pulled along by some sort of massive wolf.

The driver, a muscular, well-dressed stallion, turned stiffly and nodded to Mistress, his joints sounding like gravel as he did so. Mistress hopped in playfully as the door opened of its own accord, and Stag clambered on the roof with his captive.

The giant wolf pulled the carriage out of town and into the deep woods beyond.

***

Trace awoke, apparently with a guy with a drill next to his head. Dragging his thoughts to attention, he remembered he had been drinking last night.

'Ugh, did I do that?' he said as parts of last night's interesting experiences came back to him. 'Please tell me I didn't do the lampshade trick...'

Trace groaned when he realised that he did, in fact, do the lampshade trick. Levering himself up on his elbows, he found he was not in his usual ditch, but in a comfy bed draped in silk and frilled cushions.

'Where the hell am I? Where's my clothes?' he mumbled, sliding to the edge of the double bed. He was half hoping he had been taken home by a wealthy person, and praying that person was younger than, say, forty. To be honest, male or female didn't matter to Trace.

Trace was about to sneak out of the door when a...thing opened it for him and stepped inside. Trace fell back on the bed in shock.

The thing before him was a Weevle, vicious insect-like anthros from the southern borders. This one was massive and covered in thick midnight blue exoskeleton plates. Red flame patterns had been painted or carved on the edges of each plate. The Weevle lumbered forwards on all fours to better support its weight on its silver-grey claws, all the while staring at Trace with dull yellow eyes. Above its eyes was a foot long horn topped with two sharp prongs, and below the eyes was a wide mouth filled with needle sharp teeth.

Trace prepared himself for the inevitable goring followed by getting eaten. He hoped it wouldn't lay its eggs inside him first, like he'd heard from many a sailor in the various bars he had visited.

'This way,' the Weevle said, mandibles mashing in its mouth, and pointing at the door it had came through.

'Uh? You talk?' Trace said in surprise.

'Duh! Come on!' the Weevle rolled its eyes and grabbed Trace's tail, dragging him off the bed and out of the room.

'So, where are you taking me?' Trace said as he was dragged down a long stone corridor. He didn't mind because he'd been dragged through worse. At least this floor was level with no unexpected bumps.

'The name's Stag, dragon. You're now property of Mistress Ziriha.'

'Property?' Trace shouted. 'You mean I wandered into an auction house last night? This is a mistake!'

'No, moron, I kidnapped you.'

'Oh. So how much money are you trying to get?'

'Huh? Who said anything about a ransom? Don't tell me you've never heard of Mistress Ziriha.' Stag said impatiently as he yanked a pair of double doors open. A breeze of perfume wafted over them.

'Yeah, Ziriha was this mage who went crazy and lives in a big stone castle somewhere with a bunch of anthros she's been experimenting on with...some...' Trace mumbled to a halt as he realised who had stepped lightly through the doorway. Stag chuckled.

Mistress Ziriha stood there, arms folded, wearing nothing but a pointy mages hat with the floppy brim and an expression of extreme satisfaction. Her yellow fur with its random black spots looked well cared for but slightly ruffled at the moment, and it was thinner where it faded to the white patch running from her chin, down her well endowed chest, over her stomach, crotch and half of her firm thighs. Her cunt had a wet, recently used look about it, and she sighed languidly, stroking one of her shoulders. Her mages staff hovered in the air just behind her, trailing gold chains and strips of rune scrawled paper. Trace got the feeling that the red gem on top of the staff was staring at him.

Ziriha stepped forwards and crouched over Trace's stomach, licking her lips. Trace tried to fight the rising tide of arousal, which wasn't helped when Ziriha reached down and stroked his semi-hard cock.

'Well well, awake now, Trace?' she purred, stroking the green scales on his chest.

'Answer her,' Stag growled.

'Yes,' Trace said, hurriedly adding 'Mistress,' when Stag buzzed threateningly.

'Good boy. I'll see you later. You'll come when I call, won't you?'

'Yes, Mistress,' Trace said again.

'Good dragon.' Ziriha straightened up and walked down the corridor, followed closely by her staff which, Trace noticed, turned to continue staring with its gem as it floated away from him.

Trace realised he had been left alone in the corridor. He stood up, wondering what was going on. Ziriha was a myth, wasn't she? Apparently not...

Trace wandered through the open doors into an airy room large enough to contain five beds, a kind of nest thing Stag was couched in, watching him wearily, and a small fountain in the corner. Also in the room were large assortments of bondage gear. Trace gulped. What was expected of him here?

'Yo, kid,' slurred a woman's voice. Trace saw in the bed closest to him a fox lying on her back, clearly exhausted. She had dull orange fur, a short, spiky black mane and bright blue eyes. Slightly flat-chested, and slightly shorter than he was, the fox had black leather straps on her waist, arms, wrists, ankles and legs. Dangling off certain points on her bed's frame were silver chains.

The fox sat up slowly, smiling at Trace, and extended a paw for him to shake.

'Hi, I'm Spyke. Welcome to our home.'

'Trace. Why do you say "our home"?'

'Cos you live here now,' Spyke said simply. 'Now, that's your bed, next to Turmion's, and you're free to use anything you see in here whenever you like, except these chains cos they're mine. You gotta ask me,' Spyke grinned impishly, 'and we can use them together...'

Spyke stood up and cuddled Trace. 'My my, it's quite easy to get you going, huh?' she whispered in his ear, sensing his shaft press against her stomach. 'I'd love to take you now, but I've just been with Mistress. Maybe later, Trace.'

'Spyke, you know the rules,' a stony voice right by Trace's other ear rumbled, making Trace jump. Spyke smirked and slumped back on her bed, fiddling with her chains. Trace turned to see who had spoken.

'You're the new one?' the stallion said, his voice like gravel. Trace marvelled at the figure before him. Like him and Spyke and possibly Stag if Weevles wear clothes, the stallion was naked and seemed uncaring that Trace could clearly see his thirteen inch cock. The stallion was granite grey, because he seemed to be entirely carved from the stuff. He was like the statues Trace had seen in the town square; imposing, muscular and devoid of expression.

That ended when the horse's muzzle cracked into a smile and he stomped off through another, smaller door from the room. All the while Trace's mind was screaming stone doesn't move like that! It doesn't move at all!

'That was Terrari,' Spyke said.

'Wha...how?'

'See, the myths are true. We've all been enhanced by Mistress. Terrari's been turned to stone, but he doesn't mind. I think he likes it.' Spyke explained. 'Stag can generate lightning. And I can do this...'

Spyke lifted a paw and clenched it into a fist. Suddenly four long spikes of bone shot from her knuckles until they were as long as her forearm. 'It doesn't hurt,' she said, seeing his shocked expression. 'I can change the shape of my bones and flesh to whatever forms the Mistress needs.'

'How...how many of you are there?'

'Um...me, Stag, Terrari, my sister Kaliot, Drej is over there,' she pointed to the fountain, 'and Turmion's probably off playing with himself...or herself, I'm never sure with that guy, or those guys...or those girls...I don't know.'

'Who's Turmion?' Trace said, sitting next to her. 'And what did Terrari mean by the rules?'

'Turmion is a zebra anthro. Most of the time. Sometimes he's a girl, or he can split into a black stallion and a white pony and he, um, has sex with himself, although I guess it just counts as masturbation...'

'Woah.'

'Yeah. You should see them. Anyway, the rules are that Mistress always has first go with any new arrivals. She'll call for you in a while.'

'Call? Why?'

'To have sex with you, silly!'

Trace sat in stunned silence for a while. 'Not that I'd be ungrateful, but why?'

'See, when Mistress Ziriha was an apprentice, she was mixing a love potion to make a wolf fall in love with her when she put in too much Devil Lies Weeping and not enough Old Man's Trousers, those were herbs by the way,' she added when she noticed Trace's bemused expression. 'And the lot exploded in her face. She wasn't hurt, but it proper screwed up her hormones. She didn't know back then, but she found out that if she doesn't get...it every so often, she...changes.'

'Into what?'

'Dunno. Only Stag's seen her like that, and he's not saying anything. Mistress gets proper horny an hour before, so that's when she calls for one of us, or she comes down here. That's what we were doing before you got dragged here.' Spyke lay back, sighing. 'By the Moons, it was good...'

'So I'm stuck here?'

'What's to complain? Food, bed, yiff when you want it, what could be better? Hey, you didn't have anybody you loved back in the real world?'

'...No.'

'Thought not, Mistress always picks the anthros with nothing. I was on the streets like you.'

They sat there quietly, listening to Stag's buzzing snores, when a hyperactive something landed on Trace's back. A pair of paws clamped around his eyes while a second pair grabbed his waist.

'Hey a new one! Has he been with Mistress yet? Can I have him?'

'Trace, allow me to introduce my sister Kaliot,' Spyke said. 'You can't have him yet, Kal'.'

'Aww...' Kaliot moaned, nibbling Trace's ear frill and letting go of his face. Kaliot clambered around Trace until she was sitting on his lap, gripping his waist with her legs and arms.

The thing was, she still had a pair of arms free, which she was using to study him.

'But he's got one of those prehensile tails! He could do us both at once with that!' Kaliot said to her sister.

'Maybe later...'

'Ooh, the scales make a difference, huh? What's your name?'

'Trace...'

'Yeah, I get people like that, huh? Would you like another pair of arms? They're really cool, just ask Mistress, maybe she can get you extra tails as well, like me!' Kaliot jumped off Trace's lap and spun on her heels, waving three fox tails in his face. Now he could properly see her, she was almost the spitting image of Spyke, except for the longer hair and extra limbs. Trace noticed her breasts were just a bit smaller than Spyke's, but she made up for this by having an extra pair to go with her arms.

'Hey, no looking until later, big boy,' Kaliot said cheekily, folding all her arms and wagging her tails in his face as she walked out of the room. Trace watched her ass bob from side to side and thought hell yeah, I'm staying'.

***

About an hour had passed when a bell rung on the wall in the harem, making Stag snort and awake.

'You're up, newbie,' he said, jabbing a silver claw at Trace. 'Down the hall, first door on the left.'

Tail winding itself around his waist as it did when he was nervous, Trace left the harem and followed Stag's directions until he came to a guarded door.

On either side of the door were two statues, both formed of some black, shiny substance that felt rubbery to Trace's touch. The left statue was a female otter standing in a seductive posture, while the right was a stout bear, gruffly posed with his arms folded.

In between them floated Mistress Ziriha's mage staff. Now Trace could get a look at it, although it gave off an aura that said if he did his sanity would take a turn for the worst. Most of the decorations folded into some other, most twisted dimension.

The parts he could see consisted of a thick mahogany staff topped with a U shaped piece of brass which cradled the red gem. Hanging from the metal were gold chains ending in small rodent skulls, beads and other miscellaneous charms and lengthy strips of paper inscribed with the long scrawl of magewords.

Trace leaned forwards to peer into the blood red depths of the gem, and for a flicker of a moment, something winked back and he jumped away from it.

If it had a mouth the staff would have snickered as it hovered sideways and the doors to Ziriha's laboratory swung open of their own accord.

'Don't stand there all day, boy, I need you now,' a silken voice purred from inside. Trace stepped into the lab, followed by the staff.

'Do take a seat,' Ziriha whispered, still hidden. The room had strange harmonics; she seemed to be speaking from everywhere.

Trace guessed she must mean the heavy oak chair bolted to the floor in the centre of the lab. Per his expectations, there were leather straps and steel manacles covering it.

He sat down and the straps wound all over him and pulled tight, though his wings and tail weren't strained, as if the chain morphed shapes to accommodate them. One was about to cross his throat until the Mistress commanded it not to, stating 'I have plans for that part of him.'

'I expected the moving strap things,' Trace said, voice wobbling slightly with fear.

'Yes, terribly cliché but it's the best way to restrain you when I work my magic, pet,' Mistress Ziriha said as she strode out from behind a massive bubbling cauldron. The only items of clothes she wore, apart from her floppy mage's hat, were a pair of thick gloves usually used for hunting manticores. Taking the gloves off, she took hold of her staff and it fell into her hand, the rustling paper strips and rattling chains falling still.

'What are gonna use my neck for?'

'I don't want to spoil the surprise, pet,' she answered, throwing her staff into the air, where it flew up into the ceiling, then through the ceiling.

'I can't abide Asphodel watching. The demon in the gem,' she added when she saw the look of puzzlement on Trace's face.

'Now we're alone...'

Ziriha edged closer, rubbing on of her nipples. Regardless of his fear Trace felt his cock perk up to her approach, swelling until it was free of its protective sheath. Ziriha leaned over Trace's lap to better see the gleaming pink cock that narrowed to a rounded point. Ziriha licked her lips, her pussy already glistening in anticipation.

Fondling Trace's ball sack, she pressed her mouth to his muzzle, swirling her tongue around his. Trace gave in, following her inviting tongue back into her mouth and exploring. Ziriha muffled murrs stoked his already growing lust.

Ziriha's paw moved up to his shaft, steadily pumping up and down, and her other alternated between stroking her clit and tweaking Trace's nipples.

Ziriha pulled her mouth away from his, both of them breathing heavily.

'My my, what a tongue you have, dragon,' she purred, climbing onto the chair so she knelt facing him, his legs between hers. She leaned forwards, pressing her chest to his, moaning slightly and almost, but not quite, enveloping his cock in her folds of her cunt.

'Now for the surprise,' she smiled teasingly and snapping her fingers. A frantic, low scuttle answered, like a spider wearing horse shoes. Who knows, Trace thought. After all I've seen, that might actually be possible.

Instead of a shod spider, an object resembling a black beetle scuttled out of the shadows. It was leathery and suspended itself in six thin whippy legs. It didn't seem to have any eyes, antenna or anything remotely bug like.

Ziriha levitated it into her paws. Trace saw it was not really a living creature, but an animated item of bondage gear. It looked like a muzzle with no air holes.

'I've heard you are interested in breath control, but have never had the opportunity to experience it, pet,' Ziriha purred, her cunt still hanging teasingly over Trace's fully engorged cock and fiddling with the now still muzzle.

'But...' Trace protested. Of course he was interested, but could he really trust Ziriha?

'Of course you can, pet. There's a failsafe in place,' Ziriha said as if reading his mind. She probably can, Trace thought.

'Certainly,' she said happily, slipping the mask over Trace's muzzle before he could react. The straps of the mask wrapped around his head and clipped together of their own accord.

Trace had anticipated this and had drawn in a large gulp of air. It seemed to run out surprisingly quickly, and Trace's lungs tightened as he tried to open his mouth to breath, but came up against only the leather of the mask.

Time and again he tried to draw a breath, but was thwarted. Ziriha wasn't helping when she finally sunk down onto his cock, making him gasp faster as she slid up and down on him, moaning and grasping her breasts.

'MMMMMMGPH!' Trace protested, thrusting in response to Ziriha and the clenching in his chest. It was painful, but in a good way.

Trace stared to black out, but not before he and Ziriha came in almost perfect unison, she throwing her head back and howling, he struggling and filling her with his cum, which dripped out onto the chair between them.

Trace's head fell forwards, his eyes closing. Ziriha reached up and stroked the mask vertically down its front, and it instantly released Trace's muzzle and scurried off into the shadows. Ziriha smiled when she heard Trace start to breathe again.

'Thought I almost lost you, Trace,' she murmured, stepping lightly off the chair onto shaking legs, her cunt dripping cum and her sexual fluids onto the floor.

She scrabbled about in a draw for a moment, withdrawing a small silver phial, which she uncorked and held under Trace's nose.

She called for Stag to take Trace gently back to the harem after he had breathed in some of the phials fumes.

***

Trace jerked awake, the linen sheets wrapped around his ankles. As far as he could tell, it was night. The other harem members were lying still in their beds, snoring gently, except Stag, who was guarding the door, and Kaliot, who was unsuccessfully trying to conceal her yips of pleasure while she masturbated. And Spyke, lying awake in the bed next to his.

'How was it? The breath thing?' she whispered.

Trace thought for a while. 'It was...wonderful...I've never came that good...' Trace answered in a hushed voice, struggling to explain the feeling of euphoria he had experience.

'Hmm...really? I'll have to try it out sometime...G'night, Trace,' she said, turning over, her chains rattling slightly. She appeared to remember something and turned back. 'And Trace?'

'Yes?'

'Today you were new and only the Mistress could have you. Tomorrow your fair game for the rest of us.'

Trace smiled and shrugged. 'Goodnight, Spyke,' he said, wrapping his wings around himself.

Except for Kaliot, who was almost finished, the room was silent. Stag quietly stepped out to patrol the grounds with the other guardsmen, leaving Trace to ponder what he would do and what would be done to him tomorrow...