FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Schooling (by Mr Foxy Paws)

'Thanks for coming to talk to me, Musty. Please, do sit down,' said Harvey, gesturing toward the chair in front of his desk while he settled himself in the large black leather seat behind it.

'No problem,' replied the skunk, sweeping his bushy tail to one side and making himself comfortable. 'When I heard about your studies, and your work with Frodo the dalmatian, I was keen to get involved.'

'Well, as you know, Frodo is pretty submissive and I wanted to talk with a dominant fur as well.'

'Sure. So how can I help?'

'You'd class yourself as a dominant, gay furry, right?'

The skunk reflected for a few seconds, before replying. 'Yes, broadly speaking. I switch sometimes, but yes.'

'When would you say that started?'

'What? The dominance, the gayness, or the furriness?'

'Any? All of them?'

'Well,' shrugged the skunk, 'I've probably been all three for all my life, I just didn't realise.'

'Ah?'

'I've always loved animals, and when I was given a furry skunk plushie for my sixth birthday then I'd pretend to be another skunk and we would have meetings and plan adventures together. We'd even have tea parties. Once, I got hold of a black marker pen and drew stripes all over myself. They're my earliest furry memories.'

'And being gay? And dominant?'

'I realised that when I was eighteen.'

'You sound pretty sure of the year?'

'Pretty sure of the date,' Musty replied with a chuckle. 'It was the day of my eighteenth birthday. I went out with some friends, and a cute little dragon I'd never seen before tagged along as well. The moment I saw him... I'd never had a crush on anybody before, never felt all tingly inside over anybody else, and then... then I couldn't keep my eyes off this dragon lad. He did things to me, you know what I mean?'

'He did things to you?'

'Aroused me,' said Musty, a warm rosy blush painting his muzzle a delicate shade of pink. 'Just looking at him, even when he was standing on the other side of the room, talking to somebody else... I got hard, just looking at him.'

'What about being dominant? When did that become apparent?'

'I suppose that would be one week later, when I met him again. The first time we were alone together...'

'I see. Are you happy to talk about it? For my studies? It will all be anonymous, of course.'

'I don't see why not,' said Musty, leaning back in his chair and taking a deep breath. 'It started in the locker-room of the school gym,' he began. 'Imagine that you're a young furry dragon, unsure of your own sexuality. You've just finished gym training with some other guys, and it's your turn to put away all the equipment afterwards. So by the time everybody else is showered and changed, you're still drying yourself down with the faded blue towel you always carry in your bag. I happen to walk past the locker-room door on my way home just as the last other guy leaves, and I glance in. I spot you standing there, half-dressed, the same dragon kid I'd fallen for a week earlier. I stop dead still and watch you for a few moments.'

'Go on.'

*

I walk in to the locker-room, and close the door softly behind me.

'Oh, hi there!' you look across and say cheerily, with that gorgeously cute voice of yours. You remember me from the party, but we didn't get the chance to talk more than a few words together.

'Hi,' I say, weakly.

'We've just finished training. The gear's all put way. Sorry,' you say, smiling apologetically.

'No, no, it's all right,' I stammer, my eyes fixed on your naked, shiny-wet torso; you've not yet dried your hair, and little streams of water are playing their way down your toned and lightly tanned chest, claiming your torso for themselves. I drop my school bag to the floor and stand there, entranced by the vision.

'I'm just getting dressed,' you say, rather pointlessly but for want of any better conversation.

By now, my cock is growing rapidly, eager for release and keen to play.

'You're cute.' How dumb is that, huh? But it's what I'm thinking, and it's what I say out loud.

'Oh!' you gasp with shock at my remark; I try to read your face, gauge your feelings, but I can't. 'Well, um, anyway,' you say, flustered, 'I've just finished tidying up so it's too late for any training now.' You're awfully appealing, and several girls have tried flirting with you, but I'm the first guy who's ever made such a remark.

You slip on an old denim shirt and begin to button it up; it suits you, making you look even more adorable.

'No,' I say.

'What?'

I bite my lip. 'Don't,' I say.

'Don't what?' you ask, puzzled.

'Your shirt,' I say. 'Don't do it up.'

'Don't do it up? Why not?'

I can tell you are getting nervous - your eyes are slightly wider now, your gestures more hesitant, and there's the hint of a crack to your voice. On reflection I can't say that I blame you for being uneasy. You stand there, glistening drips of water falling from your hair and darkening the denim, and look at me curiously.

'Take it off,' I say.

'But I'm now going,' you protest.

'Take it off,' I repeat, only this time my voice is a little louder and more firm.

You undo the couple of buttons that you had fastened, look at me, and then remove your shirt.

'What's up?' you ask. 'Are you all right, buddy?'

I walk over to you, run my paw through your hair, and then slide the back of my forefinger down your cheek. My paw is warm and my touch is gentle, caring, almost loving.

'I've really gotta go, bud,' you say, moving your head a fraction out of my reach.

I stare into your eyes, searching for a clue. Any kind of clue. Surely you are gay, otherwise you would have called me a faggot by now. But no, you just stand there like a timid deer dazzled by the steady gaze of a lion.

I lean forward to kiss you. It's instinctive, you know? That pretty face, those sweet lips. I lean forward to kiss you, but instead of returning the gesture you turn your face and push me away.

'Faggot!' you cry. 'I'm not like that! Fuck off!'

I step back, and we stare at each other. You wait for me to make a move, but I don't and so we stand there, seconds of empty silence filling the space between us.

'I'm not like that,' you repeat, quietly, your shoulders drooping. Yet you don't try to leave.

'Kneel,' I say.

'What?'

I swallow, hard. 'Kneel,' I repeat.

'No way, man.'

I take a pace or two forwards until I'm standing in front of you, and rest my paws on your shoulders. 'Kneel,' I say once more, applying gentle pressure. You get down on the floor, kneel in front of me, and I stroke your hair. You're clearly trembling.

I fumble for my zipper, somehow manage to open it, and pull out my swollen cock. It springs to attention, a proud and upturned beast; the foreskin is already pulling back to reveal a small bead of creamy pre-cum. Your eyes flicker the length of my shaft, from the crimson tip with its emerging pre-cum, back to my furry groin and balls. Then, unable to help yourself, your eyes return to my firm cock swaying an inch or two in front of your face.

'Suck it,' I whisper; it's more of a wish spoken aloud than it is an order.

'Fuck off,' you say, but there's no venom or fight in your voice.

'Suck it, bitch,' I say; this time, it's clearly an order.

'I'm not a faggot,' is your simple yet empty reply.

'Suck my cock, bitch boi,' I order, grasping my cock in one paw and levelling it with your mouth.

I notice you lick your lips, but your reply is a clear even if unconvincing: 'No.'

I reach down and put my thumb and forefinger about your nostrils, pinching them shut; a sure way to make any submissive open up, eventually. You bat my paw away - you do not wish to be forced in such a manner - and, caught by surprise, I release my grip. Then, you open your mouth a fraction, and press your lips against my inflamed cock-head. I lean forward, you open your jaws wider, and I slide myself in to your hot, wet little hole. You gag as I enter too quickly, so I pull back an inch, and this time you do the moving so that you're better able to control my depth.

'Good boy, good boy,' I praise, as you bob your head backwards and forwards, running your fine lips along my firm shaft. I continue ruffling your hair, stroking your forehead, and now and then playing with your ears. All of the time, I continue offering encouragement, telling you how good it feels and what a natural you are. It's your first taste of cock, and I study the expression on your face but it's impossible to read your thoughts although I know what you will be experiencing: the warmth, the firmness, the oily-salty taste of pre-cum, the pulsing life that's within my cock, the knowledge that you are pleasuring me, and the utterly sweet humiliation of being on your knees and taking another guy's hard dick in your mouth, and being made to suck on it.

Then I feel my cock harden further, and know that I'm about to fire my load. You sense it too, for you stop servicing me and pull my dick from your mouth. 'You gonna cum?' you ask.

I nod. 'Yeah,' I say.

'I'm not going to swallow,' you tell me.

I look down at you. 'You're going to swallow,' I say, matter-of-factly.

'No,' you reply, with - surprisingly - the first hint of real determination in your voice.

'You're going to swallow, bitch boi,' I say. 'And you're going to enjoy it. And thank me for it.'

We stare at each other; me gazing downwards, and you with your head tilted back to look up at me.

'But I -'

'You're making me angry, bitch boi. I'm losing my patience.' My words are soft yet tinged with menace.

'But -'

'Suck it,' I order, for by now my cock is beginning to wilt.

'You're not going to cum, though, are you?'

'Suck it!'

You take my cock once again, and using your tongue you deftly restore my dick to its former glory. A few sucking pulls later, and once more I feel the final familiar hardening that comes before orgasm. This time, I cup both my paws behind your head and hold your face close against my groin. 'Suck it, bitch boi,' I say. 'Suck and swallow!'

You don't attempt to resist; if anything, you're now more passionate than ever. I stare down and watch your eager mouth sliding back and forth along the length of my swollen member. You are caught in the moment, no matter what your orientation; whether you like just boys, or just girls, or both your mind is now focused solely on servicing the succulent cock-flesh that is being pushed deep towards your throat.

Then, I straighten my legs, tense my muscles, arch my back... and fire my load into your dragon boi's mouth. Six wads in all. You were expecting something, but had no idea what, and it's a good job that I was holding your head firmly in place because your instinctive reaction was to jump back. In the event, you have no choice but to swallow the generous servings of skunk juice that I unload into your mouth. And, bless you, you swallow every one of them.

I pull out my cock, and we both inspect the massive monster; it's covered in a mix of your saliva and my cum.

'I think you should clean that up,' I say.

'I... I don't suck cock,' you reply, helplessly. I give your claim all the credibility it deserves; I ignore it.

'Clean it!' I order.

You raise a paw to steady my cock at its base, and tongue my dick along the length of its shaft.

I do up my flies and turn to leave.

'Don't... Don't tell anyone about this, all right?' you beg.

'What?' I asked, turning around. 'That you're a little cock-sucker?'

'Yes,' you say. Then, 'No!' And, 'I... I don't suck cock.'

'No?'

'Just don't tell anyone, all right? Promise?'

'I don't do promises,' I say, and leave.

*

'So he wanted it, then?' asked Harvey.

'Don't all submissives?' replied Musty.

'I guess so.'

'But he had to be forced.'

'Ah, I see.'

'Did you meet up again after that?'

'I didn't see him for three or four weeks. I think he must have been avoiding me. Then one afternoon, when I was in an old top-floor study room with Ricky and Robby, working on an assignment that was already late, he walked in on us.'

'Really?'

*

'Oh!' you say, letting out a little breath of shock. 'Oh, sorry.'

'Hey, Ricky, Robby, it's that dragon boi I was telling you about,' I say.

My two furry rat friends, seated with me around the same wooden school-desk pushed beneath the low window of the small cramped attic room, put down their pens and glance towards the door.

'Come in, come in,' I invite.

'No, really, I've got to go,' you say, stepping back out into the corridor, memories of our last encounter pouring into your mind.

'I'll be offended,' I say in a sing-song voice.

You pause, then take a single pace back into the room. Under your arm are several large textbooks.

'I thought this room was free,' you explain. 'I've an essay to write by tomorrow.'

'Come and do it in here, with us,' I suggest.

You look around the room. The carpet is threadbare and the wall plaster is cracked; the sloping ceiling is rough wood and rafters, and tangles of cobwebs in the corners show that the room is rarely used and never cleaned. 'There's only one desk,' you observe. 'And three chairs. No, no. I'll go.'

'Come in!' I say, my voice carrying the subtlest undertones of a direct order which you nevertheless seem to notice because you finish hesitating and finally step right into the room. Somehow, somewhere, the magical thread of a dom-sub relationship continues to lie unbroken between us having been sewn the month before.

'Ricky, the door!' I say, and Ricky gets up to shut the door.

'Come and sit down,' I offer, patting Ricky's empty chair. You walk over to me, put your books on the desk and then sit down by my side. You're obviously nervous, and sit hunched down in the seat like a timid little mouse; I'm pretty sure that you are trembling. I'm also pretty sure that I noticed a bulge in your trousers, which may be another reason why you have shrunk down into such a small and cowering shape.

'This is the little dragon boi I was telling you about,' I say to my rat chums.

'Musty!' you say, looking up, shocked.

'He's the one who likes to suck cock.'

'Musty, you promised you wouldn't tell!' you cry out.

'Hey, hey, little buddy. You can trust Ricky and Robby. We're all birds of a feather.'

'All rats in the same nest,' says Ricky.

'All furs in the same 'dom,' says Robby.

You look at me, and see me smiling; but you're unsure whether to be reassured, or even more frightened. You want to trust me, and yet you still barely know me. You think you want to please me, and yet you are scared; scared of the unknown, and scared of losing control.

'So you're a cock-sucker?' asks Ricky.

'Is he a virgin? asks Robby.

'Virgin?' you say, puzzled.

'Are you a butt-virgin?' Robby rephrases his question.

'Am I a but virgin?' you repeat, still not understanding.

'Butt virgin,' explains Ricky. 'Robby's asking whether your butt is still virginal?'

'Well, I... I...'

'You wanna undress for me, bitch boi?' I ask casually.

'No,' you reply, standing up and taking your books. Everything is plainly moving too fast for you, and the rats are an unexpected addition. 'No, I've got to go!' and you hurry towards the door.

'I think he is,' says Ricky, moving across the floor to block your path.

'Oh, most definitely,' agrees Robby, going to stand by his mate.

'You're a butt virgin,' the two rats chorus together, exchanging a brief high-five between themselves in delight at their timing. Then they walk forwards, each putting a paw against your chest to steer you back towards me, until your rump hits the edge of the desk. You find yourself trapped, the school-desk behind you and two young rats in front. I stand quickly, and the next thing you know I'm taking you by the shoulders, spinning you around and then bending you over.

'Let me go!' you cry, struggling feebly like a little girl, but you are hardly in a position to resist.

'Hush!' I bark.

'Let. Me. Go!' you say, squirming to get free, your cute rounded butt wriggling in the air.

'Lads?' I call, and my two rat friends approach. 'This little bitch boi needs some help,' I explain calmly.

I hold you pinned down on the desk, one firm paw around your neck, keeping your face pressed down against the cold wood. With my other paw, I grasp your right arm and bring it up behind your back. If you found yourself unable to move previously, you now realise that you're totally at my mercy.

'Owww!' you complain, fearing that any further physical resistance might lead to more harm. 'Gerroff!'

'You gonna be good? You gonna be quiet? You gonna behave?' I ask.

'Fucking get off!' you spit, and I tweak your arm a fraction higher. 'Fuck! You're going to fucking break it,' you cry, panting for breath.

'Are. You. Gonna. Behave?' I ask slowly, not letting up the pressure on your arm.

Silence.

'I'm going to count to three, and if you don't reply by then -'

'Yes!' you say. 'Just let go of my arm. Yes. Yes! Yes!!'

I slacken my grip, but you notice that I keep your arm behind your back to remind you who is in charge.

Then, you feel some ratty paws working quickly and expertly at your belt buckle and trouser buttons and zipper; the next moment, your belt is undone, your trousers unfastened, and two pairs of paws are pulling them down to your ankles and slipping them off.

'What are you going to do?' you ask. I can't figure out whether you're that naive, or still in denial.

'And his pants,' I say. 'Take them off too.' At this point, you do squirm violently and I'm forced to lean forwards and whisper in your ear: 'You do realise that you'll be a lot better off submitting, bitch boi? It will go a lot quicker, and it will be a lot less painful.' I pause, then add, 'Your choice, of course.'

I feel you relax your muscles, so I lean back up. However, as Ricky and Robby start to pull the elastic of your pants down over your hips, you struggle once again and start to kick out at them. Immediately, I stretch a paw down between your legs, palm upwards, and make a grab for your undercarriage. You feel my paw brush your thighs, come up to your cock and balls, and then settle itself around your delicate orbs; and when I apply slight pressure you can't help but release a sudden yelp.

'You know whose these are?' I ask, clutching your delicate brace of jewels in my paw.

Silence; if your face weren't flat against the desk, I could imagine you pouting like a belligerent teenager.

'Hey bitch boi!' I call, bending my head down inches from yours and peering at your face. 'Whose are these, hey?' I ask, fondling your balls, gently pressing them together then nudging them apart, rolling them around each other, back and forth.

You pause, and then, meekly: 'Yours.'

'Mine, what?'

'Yours... Master?'

'Better,' I say. 'Now, Ricky and Robby are just going to give them some fresh air. Is that all right with you?'

You lick your lips and try to swallow, but it's hard when held down over the desk.

'Yes, Master,' you concede.

'Very well,' I say. 'Carry on, you two.'

You feel the rats once again paw at the elastic waist-band of your underpants and pull them down over your hips; all the way down to your ankles. Your cock springs up, bouncing against your tummy, and the cool air of the room licks around your vulnerable balls. Ricky lifts your shirt tails up to provide a better view of your behind, and Robby can't resist caressing one of your creamy-white butt cheeks.

Your rounded rump is now fully exposed and presented for my use.

'Guys?' I say, holding out my paw. Ricky pulls the pants from around your ankles, and passes them to me.

'Open wide!' I request, but you keep your mouth closed. You don't appreciate being told what to do.

'Wider than that, little bitch boi,' I taunt, holding the balled underwear under your nose against your mouth.

You shake your head; no, you don't want to be gagged with your sweaty underpants.

'He doesn't want to play with me,' I say to my rat pals, feigning disappointment. 'Still, nothing stopping you playing with him,' I add jovially. 'Did you bring your three inch butt-plug, Robby?' I ask. By way of response, you see a bright fluorescent-orange item of moulded silicone set down on the desk in front of you. Your eyes widen at its girth. 'Ah, well,' I sigh. 'It looks like no fun for me, but you guys may as well enjoy yourself. Go ahead, Robby.'

You watch with growing horror as Robby picks up the butt-plug and disappears from sight, behind you.

'Is that real? Do... do people use those?' you ask. 'That big?'

'Aww, that's hardly big,' I reply. 'I'd call it small-to-medium, really. Robby's a beginner.' I turn around, and you hear me say to him, 'Better stick a bit of lube on it, Robby. He's new to this.'

'You wouldn't dare!' you say, genuinely believing the plug to be an idle threat, but moments later you feel a pair of paws pulling your butt cheeks apart, and then the smooth nose of the well-lubed plug being slid up and down your crack until it finally and naturally comes to rest over your tail-hole.

'Last chance,' I say. 'You play by my rules, or I hand you over to my fine furry friends here.'

'You wouldn't dare!' you repeat, but one nod from me and you feel Robby pushing the plug harder against your puckered innocence.

'What are your rules?' you ask.

'Whatever I want them to be, whenever I want them to be,' I reply.

You fall silent and consider your options. Playing by my rules - which could mean anything - or having your virgin tail-hole stretched and fucked by a three-inch plug, and then whatever the rats want after that.

'But ... But you won't hurt me, if I play by your rules?' you ask for assurance.

'No promises, buddy. That ain't the way I work.'

'Musty?' asks Robby, and you hear the impatience in his voice, you feel him swivelling the plug first one way and then the other as it waits tight against your entrance.

'Bitch boi?' I enquire in my turn.

'All right, all right. Your rules, your rules,' you say.

Robby tuts with disappointment, and removes the plug from over your terrified hole.

'Open wide, then,' I order, and place the rolled underwear into your obedient and subby mouth. 'And now, at least, you're already well lubed,' I observe, shuffling forwards and nudging your legs further apart. 'Rats?' I say. 'Go round and grab his wrists, in case he struggles again.'

Lying bent over the old scratched school-desk, late afternoon sunlight streaming through the window above, with your head tilted to one side and your cheek against the cold wooden surface, your mouth stuffed with your sweaty underwear, your shirt tails lifted up and cool air teasing your stark buck-naked body from the waist downwards, with your legs spread wide apart and your throbbing erection jutting forwards above your heavy low-slung balls hanging below, and the large bulge in my trousers pushing against your creamy and exposed virgin rump, you're only vaguely aware of each rat taking one of your wrists and pulling it further across the desk, stretching your arms and ensuring you are held firmly down in your subby place.

Outside, a distant church chimes the hour. School has long since finished for the day - but we haven't.

You wait, eyes closed, for the inevitable approach from behind; something you've dreamed about for months, if not years, but also something you've feared for equal amounts of time. Now, this evening, stretched out over an old school desk in some scruffy and musty attic room, you're on the verge of finally losing your virginity. It's certainly not in the manner you had expected to lose it, and yet... and yet...

Your reverie is broken by somebody tugging on your hair.

'Day-dreaming?' I ask. 'I told you to spread your legs a bit more, bitch boi.'

You edge your feet a few inches further apart.

'Better. Right, let's get this dragon skewered,' I say, and you feel my paws fondling your rump and parting your cheeks, then running down to your besieged hole. Next, you feel something else sliding down your crack; something very warm and rounded. It reaches your waiting virginity and settles neatly over its entrance. You hold your breath, and the world falls silent in sympathy; for a few long seconds there is no sound beyond the deafening tick-tock-ticking of a clock on the wall. The world waits. Finally, 'You ready, then, bitch boi?' you hear me whisper, and you give a tiny nod in reply.

I lean forward, but your virgin ass is tighter than I had expected and the sudden pressure obviously causes you to have a change of heart, for I sense you clenching your buttocks together, fighting my entry. 'Nervous, bitch boi?' I taunt, and you whimper in reply. You're absolutely terrified, and wish yourself safe at home, perhaps even regressing back to the safety of nursery school; anywhere, no matter what, so long as you're not being held down with your virgin butt about to be slam-fucked. 'Clenching your cute little ass cheeks isn't going to stop me, you know that, right? In fact, it'll only encourage me more to take you more harshly,' I warn, and as I lean forward to press my large cock harder against your resisting hole, you begin to whine softly.

'One push and I'll be in,' I say. 'Just one brief push, and it'll all be over.'

I look down at your face, see you shut your eyes and screw your face up in anticipation, and I thrust myself forwards. You flip your eyes wide open, and your loud exclamation of Fuck! is barely even muffled by the makeshift gag; I watch your chest heaving up and down, up and down, and you are generously allowed a few seconds of respite. Then - once I'm satisfied that you are sufficiently recovered, and that your tail-hole is growing accustomed to its new, stretched size - you feel me slide myself a little way out. Then I push forward, hard and deep, making you let out a smothered yelp of surprise.

'Hmm, I can see this could be boring if you're not allowed to meep out loud,' I mutter to myself. 'Ah, well, since I've entered you now I guess you don't need the gag any more. Robby?'

You turn your eyes to one of the rats, who reaches a paw out to your face; you open your mouth and he removes the improvised gag. He looks at it briefly, wrinkles his nose, then throws it on the floor.

'Great,' I say. 'Now you can beg for it.'

Silence.

'I said, bitch boi, Now you can beg for it.'

'Fuck me,' you try, unsure of what I am expecting.

'I said beg, boi. Are you some kind of pussy?'

'Fuck me,' you say again. 'Please, please, fuck me.'

I begin pumping my hips. 'Say it like you mean it, bitch boi,' I order.

'Fuck me, Master,' you say. 'I'm just a bitch-boi, Master. Fuck me.'

'Better,' I say.

'Take me, Master, please. Fuck me, fuck me hard,' you beg. 'Ram that gorgeous cock of yours into me, Master, and take my slutty tail-hole. Hard and deep, Master. Take me, hard and deep.'

'Good,' I say. 'Nice to know you recognise your position, butt-slut.'

'Master?' you hear Ricky ask.

'Yes?' I reply.

'May I?' he asks, putting a paw towards his flies.

'Be my guest,' I say.

You turn your head a little, and watch Ricky unzip his trousers, reach in and remove a giant cock; it's heavily swollen and the thick foreskin is peeling back from its fierce flame-red head, revealing a small trickle of pre-cum. Robby releases your other wrist and disappears out of sight, returning a few moments later with a collar and a chain leash. He fixes the wide leather band about your neck and fastens the buckle; it's loose enough for you to breath, but it's rough and you feel it chafing your skin. You wait as the rat fixes one end of the heavy leash to the collar's D-ring, and passes the other end to me. Seconds later, you feel me tugging on the leash, pulling back the collar and lifting your head up and backwards. 'Open wide,' I say.

You see Ricky step up tight against the edge of the desk, and - still pulling back on your leash - I push your rump forwards from behind and slide you closer towards the waiting rat. 'Suck it, boi,' says Ricky, holding his cock in one paw and swaying the tip under your nose. You just stare up at him, defiantly, so I am forced to intervene; 'Suck it, bitch!' I command, and a further tug on the leash combined with the tone of my voice allow no room for doubt as to who is in charge. You part your lips and I slacken the chain so that you can stretch your neck forward to take the rat's dripping and eager monster in your mouth. 'Suck!' Ricky orders, and you begin to service his beast. It's smooth and warm, and the pre-cum tastes a little more metallic than mine did the previous month. Robby crouches down, resting his chin on the desk near your face, and watches you work his mate's cock.

Immediately, you feel me behind you, returning back to servicing your tail-hole, building up a smooth but pounding rhythm, driving my large cock deep into your hole and then sliding it outwards; ramming it forwards, and pulling it back; in and out, in and out, like a well oiled industrial piston working up to maximum speed. Meanwhile, Ricky has grabbed you by the hair at the back of your neck and is making sure that your mouth, your lips and your tongue continue to pleasure his huge erection. Robby watches your expression as the whole scene unfolds.

'You like that, don't you, cock-slut?' Ricky asks.

You mumble a reply, and none of us can tell whether it is agreement or objection, but it hardly matters.

'But I think you can do better,' he says. 'You can suck harder, take it deeper. Make an effort, bitch.'

I can't be sure whether you start sucking any harder - only Ricky would know - but I watch you increase speed, and see that you are now bobbing your head so far forwards that your muzzle keeps running into Ricky's furry groin.

'He's my little bitch-boi cock-sucker cum-bucket slut,' I say. 'My tight-arsed fuck-toy.'

With your eyes closed, and no longer held down by your wrists but rather by your spit-roasted tail-hole and mouth, your mind is torn between the two extremities; the incessant and rhythmic hammering of your pleasure-hole which I am servicing, and the throbbing cock that you in turn are desperately trying to satisfy. This time, however, the look of pain on your face is tinged with one of pleasure - or at least of excitement.

I feel myself getting close to cumming, as my cock swells further, so I ease off on pounding your well-pummelled tail-hole. You obviously notice my dick swelling further because you let slip a small whimper, but this time it carries an evident element of thrill.

'I'm gonna cum,' I say, out loud but to nobody in particular. 'Me too,' calls Ricky.

'Ah, Ahh, Ahhh,' I cry, and you feel my cock twitching deep inside you, followed by the rapid firing of five or six hot shots of my skunk juice, far into your tail-hole.

'Oh, Ohh, Ohhh,' echoes Ricky, as his cock jerks and unloads several strings of salty cum, lashing the back of your throat with its rich creamy taste. The rat holds your head in place, forcing you to swallow his gift.

'Fuck that was good,' I remark, pulling myself out.

'Yeah, a right good little cock-sucker,' agrees Ricky, removing his spent dick from your mouth.

'Robby?' I ask.

'Can I finish myself?'

'If you want,' I shrug.

'Just get him on his back,' says Robby, so I grab you roughly and roll you over.

'Face me, and open wide,' orders the rat.

You turn your head and see him standing beside the desk, pawing at the plump cock springing out from his trouser flies.

'Open wide,' I whisper in your ear; the iron fist of menace in a velvet glove of dulcet tones.

You close your eyes, but obediently open your mouth as you listen to the frenzied fapping of the rat.

'Ng, Ngg, Nggh,' he cries, spattering your face with his warm rodent cum; some lands in your hair, several spurts hit your cheeks and begin to dribble down, but a fair amount hits the target of your mouth. 'Swallow, bitch boi' he says. You close your mouth, and do as you're told. 'Tasty?' he asks. You nod, regardless of whether it's true.

'What do you say?' I ask.

'Thank you?'

'Good,' I reply, surprised but pleased. 'Well, guys, I think we're all done now,' I say, buttoning up my trousers. 'So, we'll meet here again after gym next week,' I say, but you can't be sure whether it's a question, confirmation of an earlier agreement, or a direct command for the future. You readily take it as an order.

'Will Ricky and Robby be here too?' you ask me.

'Maybe,' I say - meaning yes.

'You'd better get dressed now,' Ricky tells you.

'And then get outta here,' Robby adds.

You push yourself back up into a standing position and, your tail-hole now beginning to ache, you stagger over to where your underpants and trousers have been tossed down on the floor. You slip them on, too dazed to notice let alone care about the trickling streams of lube running from your butt and down your legs.

'Better wipe your face before you leave,' I say, and you reach a paw up to your cheek to rub at where the spurts of Robby's copious cum are starting to dry. That's when you realise that you're still wearing the thick leather collar, with the heavy metal chain leash jangling down from it.

'What about this?' you ask, looking at me quizzically as you lift one end of the chain and hold it up in the air.

'I'll take that back,' is my reply. And then, after a moment's thought: 'But you can keep the collar on.'

I swear that I hear you murrr.

The End.