FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

All warnings for previous chapter apply here, too. Slavery, non-consensual sex, and sexual abuse of children.

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Once her master had stepped away, Camellia dared to take several minutes to explore her room. She didn't know what she would do with a whole hour.

Her room was lovely. The bed was a bit larger than the cot she had slept on at the Cloister, and although the room itself was smaller, she had it all to herself. The bedding was soft and there were beautiful curtains to cover the window. She opened the wardrobe and found several dresses hanging, just as her master had promised, in a rainbow of colors. She selected one in a soft green.

The plain clothes she had been dressed in for the auction were quickly discarded. Here, she had a full-length mirror, and the sight of her naked body caught her attention. Well - almost naked. The belt was still clipped on tightly. She blushed to see herself in it. One of her fingers traced the key-hole on the front. After all these years, it felt natural to wear it; she hadn't even thought about whether or not her master meant to unlock it until now. Maybe it had slipped his mind.

She pulled the dress on carefully, and then pulled her hair back nicely. With that, her hour was only half-gone. She sat carefully on her bed, arranging the skirts of the dress around herself so as not to crush them. Now that her mind was on the belt, and on the future possibilities, she had trouble pulling it away again.

Her master said his wife had died. Maybe he would want her - companionship. She thought back on the moment when he had taken her suitcase, and their hands had brushed together. His fur had been so soft. Without really wanting to, the sensation came to her mind of having that fur brush against her - somewhere else. Her fingers stroked across her stomach lightly, just above the belt, and she imagined they were his.

Maybe he was waiting until tonight to unlock the belt.

She thought she should probably be nervous, but certain parts of her had other, stronger ideas. The entrance to her cunny fluttered and contracted at the idea of his soft fur against her thighs. She was getting wet.

There was a sharp knock on her door.

She stood up, startled, and then said, "y-yes?"

Her master opened the door. Was it time already? She glanced at the clock. She had spent a full half hour fantasizing about him. Her face flushed down to her throat. Her master eyed her for a moment, and then she saw his nostrils flare.

Oh, no. Could he smell her?

He stepped into the room and closed the door behind himself. "I'm sure, Camellia, that you think I've forgotten something." He slipped a key out of his pocket and held it up.

She shook her head quickly. "N-no, sir. Not forgotten. I just - wondered."

"Mmm. Well. Come here."

She stepped over to him nervously. At his gesture, she rolled up the dress, exposing her bare thighs above the tights and the belt. He pressed the key into the lock and turned it, and the belt fell to the floor. She was too shy to look at him, now, and looked to the side. She was very aware of how cool the air was on her wet nethers.

"Tell me, Camellia, how long has it been since the last time you experienced an orgasm?"

She was shocked by the question, and stuttered for a moment before finding her voice. "I-it was last year, sir. Two months before my fifteenth birthday."

He chuckled quietly. The sound frightened her a little, but it also sent little sparks of pleasure up her spine. "You've been counting."

She ducked her head. "It's difficult not to, sir."

"Mm. Well. Everyone has arrived for the dinner. Come along." He opened the door, and she dropped her dress quickly.

"Oh, but - " she started. When he turned to look at her, she felt like she must be brick-red by now. "Sir, I should put on some - some panties."

"No. This is fine. Come on," he said, and held the door open. She gaped at him for a moment, but then hurried to obey, scurrying out into the hallway. He closed the door behind her, then led her downstairs and into a dining room. There were a handful of other men in the room - a tall-wolf, a very large tall-ox, and a human man wearing glasses. They all looked up as the pair entered.

"Gentlemen, this is Camellia. I only just purchased her from Saint Nicholas' Cloister," her master announced. They were all staring at her.

"She's lovely, Henry," the tall-ox said. His voice was very deep. Camellia had never been in the presence of this many men before, and certainly not without her belt on. She knew it wasn't obvious that she was naked beneath the dress, but she still couldn't meet any of their eyes. She kept her gaze on the floor.

"Thank you. Come on, dear, come sit here," her master directed. She sat in the offered chair, and immediately gasped. She hadn't been prepared for the sensation of fabric pressing directly against the lips of her privates. It had been so long since she had felt any direct sensation there, besides the monthly clinical touches of the doctor. The pressure was overwhelming, and the roughness of the tulle skirts was at the same time too much, and not enough.

She sat very still and upright, and tried to reign herself in. Nevertheless, it must have been obvious; she was sitting there with her mouth open like a fool. She glanced around the table, and saw the tall-wolf staring directly at her with his nostrils flared. The embarrassment was excruciating, but at least it helped her nethers calm down a bit.

The men fell to talking, and she tried to listen, but was very distracted. Every time she moved in her chair, she discovered some new sensation. If she leaned forward just a bit, her clit was mashed into the seat-cushion, sending shockwaves through her lower body. As soon as she discovered this, she quickly sat back. It almost wasn't quickly enough - her cunny contracted and pulsed, demanding the orgasm that felt only one wrong move away. Her legs tingled. She bit down on her lip resolutely. It would be absolutely humiliating to come in front of all of these strange men, and embarrass her master. As it is, it's bad enough that she's probably leaving a wet spot on his chair.

The food was brought out by the cook. Camellia had missed breakfast, and by now her hunger was able to overrule some of her other baser desires. She focused on the conversation more successfully now. By the time she finished half her plate, she knew the names of all the men - the tall-ox was named Angelo, the tall-wolf was named Carter, and everyone called the human by his last name, Mr. Thompson. She felt like the situation 'below deck' was more under control, as well. She could feel her pulse in her clit, but that was something she was used to ignoring. By squeezing her buttocks together tightly, she was able to mostly keep her swollen cunny lips off the rough, teasing fabric.

Then, she felt a brush against her knee.

It startled her so much that she jerked her knee to the side. The touch came again, more firmly, and she felt soft fur and hard, hoof-like nails. She realized it was her master's hand! She quickly stilled her knee, and looked up at him to apologize, but he was busy in conversation with Mr. Thompson, something to do with the latest technology in televisions.

The conversation sounded very complicated to her, but he seemed to be undistracted by it. Slowly, he pulled her dress up, and his hand snuck under to caress the lowest part of her thigh. She found herself staring at her food, not eating. All she could focus on was the surging need inside of her, pulsing at her core.

His hand crept up, and up. His fur brushed against the very inside of her slick thigh - just as she had imagined. She glanced around the table. Surely the other men could see what he was doing? But they didn't seem to be looking. She allowed her legs to fall apart to allow him the access he was seeking. Her clit was throbbing madly by now, and she wasn't sure if she was desperate for him to stop, or for him to continue.

He curled his hand into a fist and rested one furry knuckle ever-so-lightly on her clit. It was maddening. Her clit pulsed and twitched against the soft, tickling fur. Her hips wanted to shift and move of their own accord, and she kept them still only through intense concentration.

Then, he slowly extended just one finger. The blunt hoof-nail parted the swollen folds of her cunny-lips, then pressed against her entrance. Her breathing picked up, despite her best efforts to keep it steady. Her hands were bunching in her dress-skirts now. His finger pressed in, and breached her slowly, very slowly. The tickle of fur against her entrance was torturous. It felt like she was being dragged across the very edge of coming. She was unable to help letting out a long, sobbing moan.

All discussion at the table stopped, and the men were all staring at her. She turned her face away, but otherwise didn't move; her master hadn't pulled his finger out of her. Her entrance was fluttering wildly around the digit shallowly penetrating it. Desperate for harder, faster, deeper - anything.

"Well, I think she's been patient enough, don't you?" her master said finally. The men all laughed. He drew his finger out again - in a flash, she was empty and the cold air on her nethers was unbearable. She let out a confused whimper.

"Camellia has told me that it's been over a year since she last had an orgasm. Is that right, Camellia?"

She nodded. She didn't feel able to speak. She found she had slouched down in her chair, and her legs were spread open as wide as the dress would allow.

"And how many others before that?" Carter, the tall-wolf, interrupted. Her master nodded for her to answer the question.

"N-none," she stuttered out quietly. The men all made appreciative noises.

She tried to sit up properly, but her master put a hand firmly on her stomach, holding her in place. To her embarrassment, even that pressure sent urgent pulses of pleasure through her insides.

"Why don't you tell us about your one orgasm, then, Camellia? I think we'd all like to hear."

She gaped her mouth open, panting for a moment and disoriented. They were all staring at her. Finally, she said, her voice wavering, "I-it was during my monthly exam. With the obstetrician. I didn't mean to, it just sort of - happened. A-and once it started, I couldn't stop it."

Her master hummed in approval, and rubbed her stomach in small circles. "Of course not. Did he pull his hand out of you when you started to come?"

She didn't think she could blush any deeper, but recounting this story is making it happen. "N-no. He just waited for me to finish."

He nodded. "I see. Well, Camellia, here is the situation." He gestured with one hand, and Mr. Thompson began to move plates and silverware off the table and out of the way. "I am going to keep you locked in your belt during the day. I know it probably isn't what you were hoping to hear, but I think it will give you motivation to work hard for me and the children." She nodded quickly, and he continued. "But tonight, we are going to have a little test. If you can last for a minute without having an orgasm, then I will allow you to come. If you don't, then you will find out what a ruined orgasm is."

She nodded, more slowly this time. She had never heard of a ruined orgasm before, but it didn't sound nice.

Her master stood and helped her stand gently, then directed her to lay back onto the cleared table. It wasn't wide enough for her whole body, and her legs dangled off at the knees, her toes brushing the floor. The air drafted up into her dress. She felt terribly exposed. It helped a bit with the arousal. She hoped she would be able to pass his test and please him.

He picked up her ankles gently and placed them on the table, wide apart, so that her knees went into the air. Now she was really exposed. She gasped and curled her toes into the table-cloth as the cold air played into the folds of her wet privates.

Her master sat down at his chair again, directly between her knees. He trailed one hand up the outside of her thigh, and nuzzled his face into the inside. She immediately felt a clench in her insides. She didn't know what he planned to do, but she already knew it would be difficult.

"Start the time," he said, and she felt his warm breath on her clit.

"One minute," replied Mr. Thompson.

For a moment, her master just continued to nuzzle her thigh. Then, she felt the soft touch of his nose against her folds. It was warm, and there was bristly fur that tickled and poked. She could feel the distinct lines of his lips as he spoke against her.

"You know, you're named after a rose. The camellia rose is known for its creamy texture and strong fragrance."

She wasn't able to follow his words. The feeling of his lips, pressed right against the entrance of her core like a kiss, was overwhelming. She felt a desperate, sharp throb just inside her entrance. He chuckled.

"Now, dear, remember your goal."

She could only whimper in response. Then he swiped his tongue through her folds, and she screamed in surprise and pleasure. The sensation raced white-hot up her spine, but she clamped down instinctively with her stomach muscles, and somehow dove through the wave of pleasure and resurfaced on the other side. Her master laughed again.

"Oh, that was close. Good save."

"Thirty seconds," said Mr. Thompson. Maybe she would be able to do this after all.

His tongue pressed into her, pushing straight through the tight squeeze of her muscles that had staved off the orgasm. She let out a startled, guttural moan and fisted her hands in the tablecloth. It wasn't as much sensation as his finger, being smooth, but it was bigger. And then he started to move it. He pressed it against the inside of her, right up against that throb inside, and again sparks began to prickle. She bore down with her stomach again, and held her breath. Just as she began to relax, he drew his tongue out - pressed all the way against that spot inside her - and she sobbed and clenched again against the sensation.

She was so close. She wasn't sure now if she even wanted to resist. Her mind was foggy with frustrated need.

"Fifteen seconds," Mr. Thompson said. She was almost there. She tried to clarify her mind. He said if she passed the test, she would get an orgasm. She could do it.

Her master's hands gripped around her thighs firmly now. "So close," he murmured. His warm breath against her sensitive folds was almost comforting. Then he swiped his tongue up her again, and pressed, hard, just against her clit.

"Oh - oh -!" she gasped, and clenched her whole body against it again, but it was coming whether she wanted it or not. She felt the shuddering and pulsing start deep within her, sharp pleasure twisting her into knots. She sobbed and raised her hips to press even harder against him - and then her master pulled his tongue away. Suddenly, there was no sensation at all. The pleasure stopped, abruptly. She felt her pussy contracting uncontrollably on the air, and knew she was coming, but the feeling was barely anything after the intense pleasure she had just been in. She cried out and tried to grind her butt down against the table, anything to wring some pleasure out of the weak pulses inside her, but her master lifted her hips off the table. She thrashed and pumped her hips into the air desperately, whining and whimpering. "No - no - please!" She could feel the muscle contractions shuddering through her, a distant taste of the pleasure that would have satisfied her.

Finally, as she settled into soft crying, her master released her. He gave her a gentle pat directly on the mound of her nethers. A brief aftershock laced up her spine and she sobbed.

"That, Camellia, is what a ruined orgasm feels like. You don't want that again, do you?"

"No, Master Bryant, please," she sobbed.

"Then we'll see if you do better on your next test, hmm?"

She let out a low moan of despair. He picked up her belt off the table - when had he got that? and slipped it back around her waist. Her cunny pulsed wildly, once again inside its cage, still confused by the unfulfilling orgasm. Her master helped her up off the table, but she could barely stand, so he walked her back to her room and deposited her gently on her bed.

"You can sit out supper tonight. I'd like you to take the time to recover, and think about your situation. If you perform well, you'll be given more chances to come properly," he said, his voice kind. She nodded into the pillow dumbly. He turned off her light, and shut the door.

She lay in the dark, her attention consumed by the phantom touch of his tongue against her lips and the demanding contraction of her insides around the empty air.

_ TBC in Pt. 3 _