FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Southstar's toes grazed the sandstone floor, barely able to gain purchase. He dangled, arms raised, from a heavy hook in the center of his Master's chamber. Rope intricately wove around and between his arms, binding them together tightly enough to make his shoulders ache. His Master let him hang there for an indeterminable amount of time--it could have been minutes, but it felt like hours--while he left, claiming errands. The brand was still a sharp pain on his inner thigh, blisters forming where the fur had been burned away.

The door opened behind him, and his muscles involuntarily tensed. The smell of an anisette cigar preceded the wolf into his sightline, sweet and cloying. The scuff of boots came nearer and nearer, eventually stepping around him to head toward the cluttered desk which sat against the wall beneath a high window. The fire had burned down to glowing coals, the inevitable damp chill of a home mostly underground creeping in. Søren placed a few wrapped packages on the desk, shuffled through papers, not in any sort of hurry at all to tend to the dangling slave in his quarters.

There was a rapping at the door, and Søren responded with a low clicking sound. The door opened and closed slowly, and without looking, Southstar could tell the visitor approached on hands and knees. She was some kind of rodent, he noticed as she came into view. She immediately went to work on tidying the room. The fire was stoked, the bed made, the floor swept. The other slave avoided eye and physical contact with both Søren and Southstar, though the former kept himself busy at his desk. The snowcat may as well had been a decorative plant.

Eventually, the slave girl left. Southstar wished he was able to sleep in such a position. Boredom was dangerous--it made a good slave act out.

When Søren finally got up from the desk and looked Southstar's way, the feline tingled with anticipation, despite knowing full well that what was coming would not be pleasurable for him. The wolf went to a chest at the foot of the bed and withdrew a wide wooden paddle and a heavy whip with dozens of falls. Southstar flicked his gaze forward, head held high but eyes lowered, concentrating on his in and outtake of breath instead of what was going to happen with those tools.

Without a word, the wolf stepped to Southstar's side, one hand on the cat's lower abdomen. His left was out of view, but a single light pat tattled on the paddle over the whip. "Lift your tail," Søren rumbled, "unless you'd like it broken."

He didn't have to be told twice. Thick-furred tail lifted high, changing his balance, hips angled back and pressure on those toes which barely touched the ground. His arms complained, hands tingling.

"Spread your legs."

Doing so made his connection with the floor all the more tenuous.

The wolf leaned closer, whiskers tickling the snowcat's ear. "Good boy." Southstar could barely contain a whimper as that praise was fed to him like a crumb to a starving man. The paddle fell on his behind again, this time with more force. It startled him, but he was too well-trained to make a peep. It was difficult to overcome those ingrained defenses. Søren recognized them.

"I'll beat you until you're screaming," he promised, voice barely above a whisper, the paddle still going, pressure even and regular. The palm against the lowest part of Southstar's belly aided in keeping the cat from losing his precarious form. That gesture of care, warm against his fur, contradicted the force of his punishment and the threats muttered against his ear. "Even if it leaves you bleeding. I'll teach you to sing my praises in the proper key." Thwack, thwack. "You'll do this because it pleases me."

Southstar shivered as his cock was exposed, swelling with every declaration. He bit his lip, a groan growing in his throat. The paddle was coming down harder now, the cat's hips pressing into Søren's hand with every impact. Tears sprang to his eyes, but stubbornly, his voice would not escape.

The paddling stopped, and Søren stepped away, removing his touch. Southstar panted and relaxed against the ropes without the wolf's support, but he straightened, close-lipped, when he saw his Master approach, holding the flogger. Søren stopped in front of him, holding the whip at the base of the heavy wooden handle, looking disapprovingly at his slave's ardor.

"Control yourself," he snapped. Then walked out of sight.

The first crack of the whip was all noise, but it brought Southstar to attention nonetheless. The snowcat tensed, ears flat, tail curled beneath him in a defensive position. The next time, it hit him hard on the left shoulderblade, knocking him off balance, and immediately the whip hit again, on the right. He scrambled to keep at least some of his weight off his aching arms. The third and fourth crack brought the falls in an X hard across his already-tortured buttocks, the tips of every leather strip biting, stinging, finally eliciting a surprised cry from the cat's lips.

The impacts flowed up his back then, the falls biting into his sides as they curled around, hitting higher, less sensitive places, while Southstar panted and withstood the pain. The whip wasn't so bad as the paddle, the cat thought erroneously, just seconds before the whip cracked down, hard, across his back. The force like being punched, those dreaded ends cutting into his shoulders. He inhaled, catching his breath, only to have it forced from him in a cry as the same amount of force was put into the backswing, bringing the whip down again, stinging the opposite side. The cat had long surrendered his arms to the bindings, leaning on them heavily now, jerking and sobbing harder with every subsequent hit.

How many lashes did it take, before Søren relented? Southstar's head hung low between his shoulders, tears running freely, jaw agape as he gulped and choked air as though he'd been drowning. Søren placed the tools back into their box. At some point he'd removed his shirt, exposing his lean, ruddy and cream torso. The cat's arms were loosed from their bondage and, burning with the return of circulation, fell uselessly to his side. He would have collapsed onto the floor, but the wolf had gathered him up, and brought him to the bed, arranging him face-down on the silk coverlet.

So many different kinds of pain wracked the snowcat's body. He cried freely, sobs shaking his torso as he lay where his Master placed him. Søren was silent, moving about the room, gathering things from here or there, before he felt the bed shift and sensed more than saw his presence next to him.

"You did well," the monster praised. Southstar shuddered when touched. An antiseptic smell assaulted his senses. Søren was tending to his wounds. It burned. Yet, the cat felt strangely grateful that it was his Master's hands who hurt him, and now healed him. In the past, he'd been sent to an infirmary for mending after punishments. His sobs were coming slower now, and a feeling besides agony was returning to his arms.

Rough fingerpads pushed ointment into the most painful spots along the slave's back and sides. A whimper or a sigh escaped Southstar, but he remained otherwise still and silent. In a moment it was over and Søren placed the small clay pot on a nearby table. "Turn over," he directed. Renewed tears sprung to the snowcat's eyes, just at the thought of laying on his tortured back. But he did. "Look at me." Simple, straightforward demands. He met the wolf's eyes. The color of a gray winter sky, the blue an afterthought--ice over the ocean. "Good boy." The praise came as nearly a whisper. And after all he'd endured, the snowcat's heart swelled with pride.

Søren moved over him, straddling his slave's thighs. Sore muscles and fresh welts awakened beneath the added weight, eliciting a gasp from the cat. Dark furred hands explored the cat's abdomen, sliding up and curling under the ribs. Søren's expression changed suddenly, sharper, and he slowly curled his fingers in while pressing with his thumb from the front. Pain unfolded from those points in his side, building gradually until Southstar's breaths came in short bursts, his hands clutching the silk beneath him. Gradually, Søren loosened his grip, and pain began to ebb away. When Southstar's vision cleared again, he saw the dragonlike grin on his Master's muzzle. The monster's hands slid further up the prone cat's chest, dull claws scratching the pink nipples nestled in their cream-furred nests. Southstar hissed reflexively, his hips rising of their own accord.

Brow quirked, his Master smirked down to him, but his hands continued higher. Resting at his shoulders, two fingers behind and thumb in front, the wolf pushed into the muscle there. Like a cramp, the pain shot down the feline's back, his neck arching, fists clenching. A long whine stopped as suddenly as the pain, a stunted cry precluding his short, quick breaths. His eyes were still wandering, trying to regain focus, when he felt claws scratching down his chest, catching his nipples. That pain was different, shooting to his groin. He twitched in confusion as he felt his body respond.

Søren's hands came to encircle Southstar's throat. His thumbs pushed on the base of his jaw, gaze narrowed, staring down his dark, maniacally-cracked snout. The slave was transfixed, frozen and tense even as his body responded favorably. Fingers slid up along the back of his jaw, pushing into the soft flesh there, and as before, pain bloomed at those points. Søren pushed until tears appeared in Southstar's eyes, then released. He sat up and allowed his hands to scratch down the cat's chest, again catching and clawing over his sensitive nipples.

The slave's modest length throbbed against his belly, pink and smooth, already leaking sticky liquid into the fine fur there. Søren's gaze flickered over it as he sat upright, legs still straddled over the snowcat's, his own bulge obviously straining behind decorative copper buttons. Spiderlike fingers deftly loosened the lacing and buttons of those high-waisted trousers. Southstar's breath hitched, his heart skipping, a blush pinkening his cheeks and chest. His eyes had fallen from his Master's face, and now watched the work of his hand. When the last button was undone and Søren shoved the material down, finally freeing his own sex from its confines, Southstar marvelled that he'd been able to comfortably keep that much cock in his trousers. Dark red, bulging at the base and tapered at the tip, Søren was at least twice as large as Southstar. Søren released it and it fell forward from its own weight, molten hot against the slave's sex. As he leaned forward again, his hips drawing the length back, a healthy amount of lubrication spurt forth--somehow even hotter than the wolf's dick alone.

"Not without my permission," Søren reminded him. Southstar doubted he'd last long. His fists twisted the silk sheets as his Master covered him, slick lengths rubbed and pressed together. Søren grunted softly, coming short of laying on top of him completely--their height difference wouldn't allow it in this position, anyway--lowering his head to lick the slave's neck. Southstar groaned, his hips lifting, head turning away from the Master's muzzle. His head was buzzing, unable to concentrate on much more than the sensation of his dick sandwiched between their bodies with his Master's, his own eager motions met with an insistent grinding from above. A low growl rumbled in Søren's throat and he cracked his jaws wide, leaning down to sink his teeth between Southstar's throat and shoulder. The cat exclaimed in surprise, pointed claws puncturing the mattress at the exact moment Søren's canines punctured his flesh. The wolf snarled, opposite hand coming up to grab the slave's jaw, forcing his head back. His hips continued to work against Southstar's, whose own ardor hadn't flagged despite the pain.

Søren pulled his teeth from his slave and lifted his head, long tongue licking his bloody maw as he grinned down to the submissive predator. Southstar met his Master's crazed expression with confused fear and want. "You belong to me," Søren growled, his fingers rough on the cat's jaw.

"Yes, Master," Southstar responded, breathless.

"You're mine." The wolf lowered his head again, lapping at the oozing puncture wounds near his slave's collarbone. The sting made Southstar grunt, and Søren's hips ground against his. "Say it."

"I'm yours." Søren rocked over him, his cock sliding along his slave's, soaked with his musk. "Ah, gods, I'm yours." The wolf was sucking at his throat, pulling blood to the surface, consuming_him. "Master, I... _hnng." The tearing of silk in his hands, grasped and pulled beyond its limit. "Master..!"

"Now."

One word whispered against his throat was all the permission he needed. With a pained cry, Southstar's hips jerked up, his entire body shuddering with orgasm. Hot jets shot out between them, painting his chest with his seed.

"Good boy," the wolf growled. "Come for me."

Southstar groaned, riding out the waves of his intense climax, ears ringing. When at last he relaxed, twitching intermittently, Søren pulled away, shifting to lean against the many pillows propped against the headboard of the bed. Southstar looked over, half-lidded eyes admiring the sight of his Master lounging, one knee bent, trousers halfway down his hips. His cock was still exposed, hard, hungry, and utterly ignored. Southstar noticed then that it wasn't only _his_chest he'd painted. Søren watched him with a passively interested expression.

"You made a mess," the Master commented softly, gesturing to his bare chest, where multiple spurts of Southstar's spunk clung to his fur.

The snowcat slowly rolled over to his side, sore in places and in ways to which he was not accustomed. "Yes, Master," he replied. "I apologize. I'll clean it up, straight away." He could feel Søren's eyes on him as he reached for the damp towel nearby, using it to clean the bulk of the mess from his own chest. He knew Søren was waiting for him to tend to him, waiting to see if he remembered his direction from earlier that day. How long ago that seemed. He put the towel down and turned to his Master, crawling over the bed toward that dangerous, enticing monster.