FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Ros (by Mr Foxy Paws)

'Remember, Frodo, you have to be on your best behaviour this afternoon,' said Malcolm, as he started running the bath for his dalmatian pup.

'Woof,' replied Frodo, stepping out of his fursuit and dropping it down onto the large blue bath-rug emblazoned with a huge white bone; an item his master had picked up at furcon the previous year.

'This is your punishment for chasing those ducks in the park last month. Remember?' said Malcolm. You promised to behave, so I let you off the lead, even though that wasn't allowed, and then you went running and waving your paws at those darned mallards. Anyway at least the park keeper hadn't see a furry before, and he agreed not to bar us so long as we agreed to give a show-and-tell and one of his wife's coffee afternoons. So if you mess up tonight, we'll both be banned and that'll mean no more walks in the park, Frodo. Into the tub, pup.'

Frodo, stripped of his fur, hesitated. His master had been running the cold tap, just the cold tap, and he already felt pretty frozen without his fursuit.

'Pup, meet bath tub. Bath tub, pup. Please get acquainted. Frodo?'

The young dalmatian stepped into the tub, the water at his ankles and slowly rising.

'Sit, boy. I want your pup buttocks in that water.'

Frodo sat down in the icy water, and shivered.

'Atta boy. It's all about trust, you should know that by know.' Malcolm reached over and turned the other tap, blasting a stream of how water into the tub; he added some rose-scented bubble bath. 'You see, if I tell you you're taking a bath in cold water, you don't argue, OK? You know you can trust me, right? Right?'

Frodo nodded.

'Have I ever let you down?'

Frodo shook his head.

'Have you ever had to use the safe word? Well, apart from our first month together when you were such a skittish, nervous, little pup who'd wet himself at the mere sight of a riding crop, or the lifting of his tail. No, you haven't. How're we doing? Ah, enough water now, I think. Up on all fours, then, pup.'

Frodo stood in the bath, on all fours, and let himself be washed by the master, from head and snout down to the currently tailless butt-hole; the water was warm and soapy, and the washing was brisk if a little rough, and most certainly thorough. His master always scrubbed him very hard behind the ears, pulled his head gently forward by the hair and rubbed his neck, and paid particular attention to his crack and butt-hole, more often than not inserting a gloved finger to ensure cleanliness inside as well as out.

'OK, now begging position.'

Frodo sat up on his haunches, front legs held forward, paws hanging down just a little, and panted happily; he knew what was coming. His master reached down and cleaned all around the young pup's genitals, stretching the ball sac this way and then that, lathering it with a bar of soap. Next he grabbed Frodo's cock, now proudly erect, carefully slid back the foreskin, and rubbed it clean with his soapy master's hands. Frodo trembled; cumming without permission wasn't allowed, and the combination of warm water, and soap, and his master's expert touch were taking him close to the edge. Malcolm noticed.

'Enough of that, then, boy. Else it'll be a cold shower for you, heh? This is a bathroom session, for canine hygiene, it's not play time, right? OK, best get out of the bath now.'

Frodo stepped out of the tub and onto the rug, stood up on his hind paws, and waited patiently while his master rubbed him dry with a rough towel, paying careful attention - as usual - to behind Frodo's ears, between Frodo's toes, along Frodo's butt crack, and of course his cock. Malcolm pulled back the young pup's foreskin and inspected the head carefully; the ultimate sin, when presenting a dog, was to have any sign of towel fluff or soap or smegma anywhere around the canine cock-head. It was all clean.

'Now I don't know how you're going to react, surrounded by a group of women, so I think we should take some precautions. Is that all right with you, boy?'

Frodo didn't fancy any precautions - he knew what that meant - but he nodded anyway.

'OK, good,' said Malcolm, opening a laundry basket in one corner of the room and reaching inside. 'First, here's a clean fursuit, you can put that on.' Frodo took the black and white spotted garments from his master and slipped them over his body. 'Next we'll put this collar around your neck,' continued Malcolm. 'Yes, yes, I know it's the wide one, and it's a bit rough to wear, but this is a proper collar and not just for decoration. Remember your first months with me, during training? I know that these days, when we go out, you usually wear your favourite studded leather collar, the one I bought on our first anniversary to show that you were fully mine, but I think tonight needs a proper collar.'

Malcolm wrapped the heavy leather ring around the pup's neck, slipping the tail end through a couple of buckles, then swivelling the whole collar around the neck a couple of times to check the fit. 'Good, good. And then we'll just lock these mitts in place, like so.' Frodo looked down and watched his master press two small locks into place. 'Fancy a butt plug, boy?'

Frodo paused; he'd been with his master for a while now, and still hadn't figured out when to express his real preference, or to go with what his master expected him to say; and, to make matters worse, sometimes hesitating with an answer was the worst action of all. Realising that, and really not wanting a butt plug at all, especially for the car journey, he half shook his head and half shrugged. Malcolm seemed to accept the response.

'OK, we'll take some with us, anyway. No cuffs needed, since you're mitted up, but we'll just need to link your front paws with this small spreader bar. Good.' Malcolm stepped back to admire his work, and Frodo stood before him expectantly. Something was missing.

'Ah, of course, you might go biting or yelping. We need a gag. Hmm, which sort? Which sort, hey, Frodo?' said Malcolm, more to himself than to his pet, as he turned and rummaged through the linen basket. 'Horse bit? Ball gag? That home-made experimental one we made together, from the cut up tennis ball? Ball gag, I guess, I think that looks neatest.' Frodo opened his mouth, and his master fitted the gag, buckling it up behind the pup's head. 'We could go for some cock rings or a chastity device, but you should be able to behave until we get there. Right, let's go, Frodo.'

Frodo followed his master to the front door, where Malcolm selected a heavy gauge chain leash from the hooks on the wall, and clipped it to the D-ring of Frodo's collar.

Frodo even felt a little bit proud, as he followed his master onto the drive and into their car.

*

'Mrs Dantonya? It's Malcolm. Malcolm and Frodo. Your husband ... your husband asked if we'd mind attending your W.I. afternoon to give a talk about furries.'

The lady at the door stared down at Malcolm's feet.

'We have come to the right place? Mrs Dantonya? Your husband's a park keeper?'

'Yes. Yes yes yes. Sorry. And do call me Hilary.' The lady looked up at Malcolm. 'I was just ... just admiring your dog. I mean, your furry. Or, well I don't know, what do I call him? Frodo? Mr Frodo? Oooh sorry I've never addressed a ... a furry ... a dog ... before. It's ... confusing to say the least.'

'He'll answer to most things ma'am. Frodo is fine, or pup. And so long as it's obvious who you're talking to, well you don't need to use a name at all. Just give him orders.'

'Well, hello Malcolm, and Frodo. It's good to see you both. Please, do come in.'

Hilary led the pair through into the front living room, where four other ladies were settled back in large comfortable chairs, sipping cups of tea from fine bone china cups.

'Ladies, I'd like you all to meet Malcolm and Frodo.'

*

'Isn't he adorable?' said Sarah.

'Is he a person? Or a dog? I'm confused,' said Margaret.

'He's a person, Margaret. A young man, I think.'

'Why's he dressed in a fur coat? Is he doing a pantomime?' asked Margaret.

'He's a furry, Margaret. Don't you know anything?' said Catherine.

'I think he's gorgeous,' said Ros. At this, Frodo went to reach up a paw and preen his ear, but he'd forgotten about the spreader bar.

'Aw, does he have to be shackled?' asked Sarah.

'Just a precaution, ma'am. He won't bite, don't worry, but he gets frisky and might panic, and try to run away and hide in a cupboard. This,' - Malcolm waved his arm at the room full of ladies - 'is a new experience for him.' Malcolm looked down at his dalmatian pup. 'You all right, boy? You going to behave? Can I uncuff you?'

Frodo nodded. He was surprisingly relaxed. In fact, he was enjoying being the centre of attention. Malcolm unhitched the leash, removed the spreader bar and undid the gag. Frodo swallowed hard and pointed at his mouth.

'Ah, dry mouth, hey?' asked Malcolm. 'Hilary, would you have some water, please?'

'Yes, dear, I'll go and fetch a glass for him.'

'A glass? No, no, no he can't use a glass. Do you have a dog bowl?'

'We don't have any pets. Oh, now I'm all in a quandary. How about a cereal bowl? If you're sure he can't use a glass?'

'A cereal bowl will be fine, thank you. Half full of tap water. Perfect.' Hilary left the room, returned with a smart Denby bowl, and set it in front of Frodo. The young dog looked up at his master, expectantly.

'It's OK, Frodo. You can drink.'

Frodo, on all fours, bent down his head and lapped at the water. It was cool and refreshing, and he was very thirsty. His master and the five ladies watched and waited patiently, listening to the quiet lap lap lapping as the pup's tongue hit the water. A few minutes later, the bowl almost empty, Frodo sat up and wiped his muzzle with the back of a furry spotted mitt.

Malcolm spent the next hour talking to the ladies, answering questions, and showing them the different tricks that Frodo had learned to perform. Frodo begged, rolled over, played dead, curled up in a ball, stood on all fours, stood on his back paws, washed behind his ears, and ate crushed biscuits and milk from another cereal bowl that Hilary provided.

Finally, 'Any more questions?' asked Malcolm, Frodo standing on all fours, happily by his side.

'Can we stroke him?' asked Ros.

'Yes, please do. Do ... well, do whatever you like. Stroke him, yes. He likes that.'

The ladies got up and gathered around the dog. One petted his furry head, another stroked his back, and one inspected the pup's mitts.

'I know he's a young man, but ... but is he a boy dog?' asked Margaret.

Malcolm laughed. 'Yes, yes, of course he is.'

'But he's got no genitals!' she exclaimed.

'Ah, the flap's shut. Sorry. Just a moment.' Malcolm reached down between Frodo's legs and gave a little tug; two balls fell down, followed by a rigid cock jutting forward.

'My, yes. Yes, yes, he is a boy dog. He certainly is. And what about?'

'His butt hole?' asked Malcolm. 'It's here,' he said, lifting Frodo's tail and opening another flap.

'Oh, how cute!' squealed Catherine.

'Does he take plugs?' asked Ros.

'He doesn't like them, but he'll take them. Here,' said Malcolm, reaching into the rucksack he'd carried in with him, 'is his status plug.'

'It's a horse's tail!' said Margaret.

'No, not quite. It's called a status plug; it shows what Frodo can do, has done, to a recognised level. Like a guide dog, or police dog, passing their tests. You see the different coloured strands? They're for different things. The straw-coloured strands are just the starter ones, to make it look like a tail - though of course you need to have take a starter butt plug before you can get those. Then you've got, what, white cords for a month's abstinence. See, they're fixed into the butt plug here,' said Malcolm, passing it around. 'Awards like a judo belt. You've yellow for fellatio, pink for cunnilingus, brown for scat, black and white stripes for surviving extreme edging, lime-green for achieving orgasm by dry-humping grass. Well, some of the things are ridiculous these days, but it's a good system - you can tell a dog's experience just by looking at his tail.'

'He's not got any brown,' remarked Catherine.

'Or any pink,' said Ros, crestfallen.

'No, Frodo doesn't do scat. And he's never had a chance for cunni. This cream one is for eating his own cum, and the gold stripes mean he's swallowed his master's cum too. Ah, sorry ladies, that's sperm. Ejaculate.'

'Yes, dear, we know what cum is,' said Hilary.

'What are those black ones?' asked Catherine.

'Ah,' said Malcolm. 'It's one thing to fail an exam, but if you enter and then break certain rules you get black cords added. The black one with a yellow tip meant that he was caught wanking overnight in one of the kennels at the exam centre, and the black one with a red tip meant that he refused to take his punishment like a good pup.'

'And he'll always have those?'

'No, they're like points on a driving licence, they last a year and then he can apply for them to be removed.'

'And the metallic purple one?' asked Hilary.

'Pup of the year,' said Malcolm proudly.

*

'Can I spank him?' asked Ros. The other ladies looked at her.

'What? I spank my hubby, although I don't think he really enjoys it.' She looked at Frodo, who returned her gaze. She could have sworn there was a slight smile beneath the furry face.

'You can't ask to spank the man's dog, Ros,' said Hilary.

'Yes, please do, he loves it,' said Malcolm. 'I usually give him a rubber bone to take in his mouth, to bite on.'

'Don't worry, that's not needed,' said Ros, lifting up her skirt and removing her underwear. 'Open wide, Frodo,' she said. The young dalmatian had never tasted women's panties, but his twitching cock was curious, indeed was desperate, and Frodo opened his mouth and let Ros carefully insert the tightly-balled wad of lace. He caught the aroma of her hand, or was it perfume from her underwear? A surprisingly musky, erotic smell. A drop of precum edged out of his dick.

'My, what a randy little pup,' said Ros. 'It's just as well I came prepared.' Ros left the room and returned a few moments later, carrying a horse's riding crop in her hand. 'I think you deserve the crop for that drop of precum leaking out of your pup-hood, don't you, Frodo?'

Frodo gulped and nodded, opened up his fursuit, exposed his creamy white buttocks, and lowered his muzzle to the ground, presenting his orbs and tail hole to Rosalind.

'Sniff the crop,' said Ros, holding it on the ground near Frodo's nose. Frodo sniffed it.

'Lick the crop,' said Ros. Frodo put out his tongue and ran it along the leather flap.

'Give me the crop,' said Ros, dropping it on the floor.

Frodo picked up the crop with his teeth, lifted up his head, and held it out to Ros who took it from him.

The other ladies watched, entranced. This was a side to Ros they had never seen before.

'Beg to be spanked,' said Ros.

Frodo resumed his previous position, wiggled his butt high in the air, reached back with one paw and held his tail to one side, then gestured to his butt with the other paw. Ros pushed the tail further to one side, pulled the fursuit down a few more inches, and rubbed Frodo's buttocks; rubbed them, squeezed them, and patted them. Frodo wagged his bottom with pleasure.

'No moving! Bad pup!' said Ros, and spanked him sharply on both cheeks. Frodo flinched. 'Hold that position, and no moving, pup.' Ros laid the crop-end against one cheek, slid it up and down, then with a deft flick of her wrist she gave each buttock another couple of slaps. 'Have you learned your lesson, pup?' asked Ros. Frodo nodded.

'Sit up then, boy. In fact, on all fours.'

Frodo sat back, then got on all fours.

'That precum is worrying me, we'll just slip this on you boy.' Ros reached into her back pocket and retrieved a small foil package, which she opened. She pulled the condom out from inside, hunkered down by Frodo, and rolled the rubber onto the dalmatian's cock. The pup felt the touch of Ros's hand, the feel of rubber, the pulling back of his foreskin, the tightness of the condom; usually the only things that other people attached to his cock were rings or chastity devices or vibrating pads, and normally he fitted condoms himself. Pleasure filled his body, flooding out to his snout and paws and tail and ... cock.

'Oh dear, he's going to blow. Quite a volatile young pup, aren't you, Frodo?' Ros turned to Hilary. 'Have you a wine glass, Hils?' Hilary opened a cabinet behind the sofa and retrieved an elegant crystal wine glass which she passed to Ros. Ros placed it on the ground in front of Frodo.

'OK, boy, you know what to do. And no messing the carpet, boy!'

Frodo glanced at his master, who nodded, then sat up, pulled off the half-applied condom, and barely had to rub himself once before he fired his creamy puppy load into the glass. Ros lifted it up, sniffed it, and dipped a finger into the warm ooze. She held it out to Frodo. 'Taste, boy.' Frodo licked Ros's finger. 'Any good?' Frodo nodded. 'Very good?' Frodo nodded enthusiastically. Ros dipped her finger back into the glass, brought it to her nose, sniffed it, then licked a drop with the tip of her tongue. 'Yes, very good,' she said. 'You feed him well, look after him well,' she said, turning to Malcolm. 'Your pup's come is excellent. Far, far better than my husband's.'

Frodo caught his master's attention, then cocked one leg in the air.

'You want to go, buddy?' asked Malcolm. Frodo nodded.

'It's down the corridor, first on the right,' said Hilary.

'He's a furry,' said Catherine.

'Yes, I know,' said Hilary.

'They do it in the garden,' explained Malcolm.

'Ah.' Hilary paused. 'That will be down the corridor, second on the right.'

*

Hilary led Malcolm, Frodo and the other four ladies out towards her back garden. Frodo shuffled along, his fursuit still down around his legs.

'You'd best take that off, boy,' said Malcolm. 'It might be muddy outside, and that's your good fursuit, remember?'

Frodo slipped out of his suit, got back on all fours and trotted outdoors, looking around for a tree. He spied one in the corner of the garden, and gestured to it with his snout.

'He's asking, can he pee against that tree?' said Malcolm.

'Yes, of course,' said Hilary, a trifle disconcerted but happy for the fertilizing effect it should bring the flowers.

Frodo padded across to the tree, followed by his master and the ladies. His cock had hardened again, and he always struggled to pee when watched - he found it terribly humiliating.

'He's embarrassed, poor thing,' said Margaret.

'Maybe he needs another rub?' asked Sarah.

'Or a good swat,' said Ros. She walked up and whispered something in Frodo's ear, after which he made a concerted effort and managed to relieve himself. 'Well done, Frodo. Good boy. Good pup!' Ros hugged the dalmatian, and kissed him on the neck. 'Come on then, time for your reward. Heel, boy.' Ros walked back to the house, followed by Frodo, then Malcolm, Catherine, Sarah, Margaret and Hilary.

*

'I know you told Hilary that you had to leave by six o'clock,' said Ros, when they were back in the front sitting room, with Frodo furred up again, 'but there's just one last thing to do. I promised Frodo he could try it, if he managed to piss for us. Can I have his collar and leash, please, Malcolm?'

Ros attached the leather band around Frodo's neck, clipped on the leash, sat down in a chair and drew Frodo towards her. 'I know it has to be under exam conditions, for it to count properly, young pup, but there's no harm in practice is there?'

Frodo sat patiently in front of her.

'I think a couple of pink strands would look adorable in your status butt plug, wouldn't they boy?'

Frodo thumped his tail on the floor, and pawed at the carpet.

Ros, who'd already used her underwear as a makeshift gag, lifted up her skirt and revealed her lady's treasure to the curious dalmatian. Frodo wasn't sure about the look of her sex, although it was neatly shaven, but the unmistakable aroma of bitch-on-heat hit his canine nostrils. Something, presumably instinct, made the pup - probably a gay pup but possibly a bi pup - lean forward and rest his snout on her chair. Ros gently pulled the leash, drawing Frodo slowly forwards, but his snout proved a bit of an obstacle.

The others watched, fascinated.

'This isn't going to work, boy,' said Ros. Come on.' She stood up and led Frodo to the centre of the room. 'Roll over boy,' she said. 'On your back.'

Frodo rolled over, spotted puppy legs in the air, paws flopped at ninety degrees to his legs. Ros sat down by his side and undid the furry head, then slipped off the rest of the fursuit. Frodo whimpered. 'You want to go for some pink strandy-wandies, don't you my little boysy-woysy?' she asked. Frodo nodded; gulped and nodded. He could still smell her scent; his cock ... he swore, even his cock could smell Ros's bitch aroma. More precum made its way to the tip of his pup-hood. Ros wiped it with her little finger and held it to Frodo's mouth. 'Taste this boy,' she said. Frodo lifted his head an inch or two off the floor and sucked her finger. 'Now, boy, taste something so so sooo much better.'

Ros lifted one leg over Frodo, so that she was straddling the dalmatian, then inched forward until she was over his head. Then, carefully, gently, teasingly slowly, she lowered herself. 'Ready, boy?' she asked. 'Arf,' wuffed Frodo. And with that, Ros lowered herself onto the young dog's face. 'Lick, boy,' she said. 'Lick, and suck, and nibble. Lick deep, boy, lick deep!'

Frodo probed the female sex with his tongue, drawing on generation's of human evolution to naturally find his way around her outer and inner lips, around and in and out, and up towards the clit which slowly crept out of hiding. He'd had his fair share of cocks and, although different, his tongue had developed a certain strength and agility. She was already wet, but soon her juices were flowing freely; a curious flavour, perhaps a little tangy but he couldn't quite put a paw on it; and it would take some getting used to - just as humans say that olives can be an acquired taste - but the simple act of licking a female human, of his first attempt at cunnilingus - the mere act of pleasing this wonderful, stunning, gorgeous, dominatrix who knew all the right ways to rub his fur ...

Together, Frodo and Ros, Ros and Frodo, climaxed in unison.

'Trust and love, Frodo, trust and love,' said Ros, and she kissed him on the nose.

Frodo murred.

The End.