FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

I'd actually had a fairly normal childhood, to be honest. No tales of torture or sexual abuse stemming from my parents or relatives, or anybody for that matter... I don't quite know what drove me to this "crazy" lifestyle, I think it was more the allure of the hunt... The hunt was always something that's intrigued me, ever since the early tales of Foxes and Hounds combating for dominance, only to be hunted by man.

My first boyfriend was the fur responsible for introducing me to the very concept which I nowadays so adamantly choose as my lifestyle. I guess this is where the cliché bullshit starts to come in, but I'll tell the story anyway since this part is /all/ about me. Gabriel was his name, he was the classic definition of the word "pretty boy", build like a tank and incessantly eager to show off his body. When I say incessantly, especially in that last sentence, I mean to the most literal definitions and connotations of the very word.

He used to beat me when I annoyed him, he beat me in ways that I beat people now, sure. Though the people I beat know why they're being beaten, and they know that they're going to endure it. However, for a virgin 18 year old these things were quite confusing... Especially with my anticipations of sex being this wonderful, passionate, intimate thing. When really it was Gabriel using my ass as he pleased and not even bothering to explain to me why he was doing it. Only telling me that this was BDSM, and that I was a bad sub if I didn't do what he told me to because he was doing me the favor of taking my virginity. And of course, /he/ was the master.

Eventually Gabriel found a "better pet", which meant he wasn't as wrecked both physically and emotionally as I was, and he had a nicer body. He was a black panther, too, which was so much more "exotic" than the plain old red fox that he'd by that point gotten sick of fucking until I bled. The worst part of it all, is that despite the fact that he was an absolutely terrible master and lover... I couldn't help but want him, and miss him... and feel absolutely lost without him.

I spent the time after I turned 20 (I spent two years with Gabriel, not the best choice of my life) wandering around the gay clubs within the limits of the city just outside of the small suburban town I grew up in. I was looking for something, anything to cling on to... to guide me, to protect me (beating me until I passed out would have been protection at that point, as long as I had a collar around my neck). I had a LOT of one night stands, which are ever so prevalent in the underground /and/ above ground gay scenes. Some guys wanted a slutty fox to fuck for the night, some guys wanted someone to call "their little whore" and piss on me, then fuck me. It made me feel wonderful, and safe, like maybe somebody wanted to claim me as theirs again... But they were usually gone the next morning.

Until /he/ came along...

I was wandering around the nightlife some Friday or Saturday night and had ended up in one of the local BDSM clubs. He was there, on the main floor... Whipping some sort of feline with a long whip made of chains. The device itself was almost as glamorous and elegant as the wolf wielding it so skillfully, a wooden handle wrapped in leather attached to nine 2 foot long, thin, black chains each with a leather tassel hanging from the end. How badly I wanted to be that cat, how badly I wanted to feel the smack of those chains across MY back. The wolf was tall, his fur was black, and he was /so/ fucking sexy as he delivered a vicious beating without batting an eyelash. Just another day, just another intense exchange of power between he and another, and I longed to be the "another" in the formula.

I scouted him out from afar, I was far too shy to approach him like I wanted to. Shy amongst other things, I'm sure fear had quite a say in my actions that night especially considering the scene I had just watched him partake in so violently and passionately. I went to the bar and ordered myself a drink, which turned into two as I sat there and thought... and fantasized.

I think a few more drinks went by before suddenly he was sitting next to me, in the chair literally to the right of mine at the bar. I blinked and stuttered in My drunken stupor, my inhibitions not quite intoxicated away enough for me to actually say anything worthwhile. My brain, on the other hand, was drunk enough to make a complete ass of myself in front of the wolf I'd secretly been stalking the entire night.

"Enjoying what you've been watching?" he asked, his voice was soft and welcoming but with a hint of something else that I couldn't quite place my finger on

"Uhh.... .err..... I...." I was a bit drunk, which didn't help, but the main reason I couldn't produce words was the very wolf in front of me, he stood taller than my own six foot frame which was rare... And his words mixed with the expression on his face were so gentle yet so utterly intimidating. He was something like I'd never seen before, even more beautiful up close than from afar.... But there was still the problem of not knowing what to say.

"You were watching Me with that white kittyboy, were you not?" he said as his lips curled up into a smirk.... Oh shit, I thought to myself, he SAW me? How embarrassing! How foolish of me! I didn't know what to say, I just stood there with my muzzle hanging open, looking quite conspicuously confused.

"You'd like to be him, wouldn't you?" he asked as if he knew what I was thinking about while I sat the bar. He gazed at me with those nearly black eyes of his and suddenly I could speak without stuttering, suddenly I wasn't quite as nervous of the towering wolf's presence.

"....Yes, Sir..." I muttered quietly, I could feel my ears folding back and pressing against my head completely out of my control.

He took me home that night with him and gave me plenty of water. He told me that any pain and agony I feel in the morning would be the result of his own hand, not alcohol. He was right, the next morning I woke up and the intense soreness under my tail was the least of the pain radiating throughout my entire body, and I wasn't in the least hungover.

That night I felt alive for the first time, when I felt the wolf's thick, pierced cock penetrating me so assuredly, so skillfully, I knew that I would belong to him for more than a night. When I clenched my teeth and hissed for the very oxygen keeping me alive as my back was covered in welts from a long riding-crop like instrument (not knowing at the time, the dressage whip would become one of both of our favorite devices. For me, I quite enjoy making the most of both the lash end /and/ the handle end), I felt like I knew what life was supposed to feel like, I felt safe and somehow I knew it would last.

There are more stories, of course, but those are for another day. When Thomas and I went different ways, we both did so knowing that when we met again that he'd still be my Master, and I'd still be his slave. I still don't know why he left, but he told me that he'd come back when the time was right. I trusted him, and as things stand it does seem as if he came back in due time. The Academy came into play about 2 years after Thomas left, I had decided that I /had/ to assemble more of the ones that felt the same as I did about this lifestyle. I started to do extensive studies, and took what Master had already shown and taught Me and turned it into an extensive training program. I hired doms and recruited subs from all over the country, and I started to train them, the employees and the trainees alike. There's good market for well trained pleasure slaves, and I've sold about 20 of them from the Academy to date. The profits, the numbers of which I will not speak, have been enough to both pay the employees and keep the Academy running, so I can't complain. Though I've put a lot of my own investment into the place, I don't think I could go on if it ever went under until I was ready for it to.

Oh, and there's Eric... of course, the boyfriend that I'd somehow obtained four years after I'd not heard from Thomas... He broke up with Me over the normal petty boyfriend bullshit, I'd rather not go there, we all know how it goes. I should have known Thomas would have come back fairly soon after I got involved with Eric, that's just My twisted fate... Though at the three year point I didn't know when it'd actually be so I started looking for something else, but I knew he'd come back... I remember it well because I was in tears, and the last thing he said to me before he walked out of the door of the apartment we'd been sharing was, "Boy, you're meant to do great things. You can't do those things with Me here as your Master, but the fact that I am as such will never change. I'll come back when you're ready, and I'll be watching you no matter where I am and no matter where you are, so be good." He left an envelope on the table, stating that the next six month's worth of rent and bills were paid, just the amount of time I needed to set My dreams into action.

I often wonder if the Academy is what he was talking about, "great things"... Though I must admit, things could be working out a lot worse than they are...