FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

My head feels like it's stuffed with cotton. I'm on my knees in some dingy looking bathroom stall but I'm not sure how I got here. I find myself looking at a hole cut in the wall. It's about the size of a clenched fist and has rounded edges. All around me I see crudely scrawled graffiti but one bit written in thick permanent marker jumps out at me.

DON'T SASS HIM

YOU'LL REGRET IT

I didn't know what its suppose but when I read those words written just above the hole, a growing nagging feeling scratches as my increasingly aware mind. Then it hits me. The reason why that graffiti caught my eye. Doesn't that look quite similar to my handwriting?

Then I look at the hole again and frown. No, not just hole. Gloryhole? The words pop into my mind, unbidden, unwelcome, and shameful. I taste the memory of musk and salt on my tongue. In my mind's eye I see a cock pressing its way into my stall as I stare on in silent horror. It's not really there but I see it all the same, thick and erect.

Somehow I know it belongs to a former employee of mine. A fuck up by the name of Jeffrey. Which is indescribably bizarre because I fired that jerk over a year ago. I remember the occasion clearly because the jerk had made a scene and had spat in my face. But now it was a very different sort of memory that was pushing its way into my brain.

With a visceral sort of clarity I remember the badger's endowment stretching my throat, his taste on my tongue and in his scent in my nose. He's moaning, calling me a bitch and a cocksucker. I hate it and I hate myself for loving it.

It's a crazy thought because I've certainly never sucked any of my employees before, current or former. And even if I did get the wild thought to go down on some straight boy, Jeffrey would be pretty much the last name on the list of tempting targets.

But if that's true, why do I remember spending whole minutes licking his heavy sack like it was the tastiest dish in the world? Why do I recall how his moans sent a thrill of pleasure down my spine?

I nearly jump out of my fur as my phone rings, the sound absurdly loud in the silence of the bathroom. I answer it quickly, if only to shut the damn thing up.

"Yes, hello?" I ask, trying to keep my intense confusion from showing in my voice.

"Hey there, pup," an oddly distorted voice answered from the other end of the line. "Ready for your weekly date night? You gonna give all those men's loads a nice warm home down that throat of yours?"

What do you say to a question like that? I was so thrown by the words that I wasn't angry, scared, or event upset. I'm just confused.

"I'm sorry... I think you may have the wrong number?"

I heard a chuckle, low and predatory. The strange distortion made me wince.

"Perhaps. Let's check, shall we? Are you sitting naked in a public bathroom stall, staring at a gloryhole that's about the be filled with a nice juicy penis for you to enjoy?"

With a start, a realized that I was naked. Completely and utterly naked, my bare knees touching the chilly concrete floor. Except for this bit of bright pink plastic that caught my eye. I was about to lean forward to peer between my legs when the voice continued speaking.

"Oh? I take it by your silence that I do have the right wolf? Excellent. In that case, let me explain how this evening is going to go. I do so love this part. In a few minutes, a man is going to press his dick through that hole. He's going to want to use your mouth to get off and you're going to let him. And do you know why, slut?"

I didn't. The phone shook in my quivering hand. The man on the phone terrified me. I felt powerless to speak up for myself.

"Cat got your tongue? Normally you don't clam up like this until some well hung brute has their prick stuffed between your lips. Just like this nice gentleman."

My phone buzzed, indicating a new text message. I took the device away from my head and glanced at the screen. And then I nearly dropped the thing.

Pictured on the screen in exquisite resolution was me on my knees, my eyes wide in panic as a ridiculously fat cock speared my mouth. The veined monstrosity was drenched in my spit and I had both hands wrapped around its fat base as though to hold it steady.

The photo was taken from up above and if the date in the corner was to be believed, it was taken six months ago in what appeared to be this very stall. Again a flash of pink caught my eye. Something... encasing my manhood?

Looking away from the phone I once more glanced down between my legs. Sure enough, I immediately saw the compact bit of plastic wrapped around my member. No, not wrapped. Locked.

"Just what the fuck is going on?" I demanded, finally finding my voice.

"Did you like the photo?" the voice teased, its deep voice mocking. "If you do, I'm pleased to say that I have hundreds more just like it. Video, too. You've been such a harder worker, pleasing so many horny men in your city. I just love the cute little grunts some of the men make when you get them to squirt."

I have this sense that I'm trapped in a terrible nightmare. Despite this, I try to get a better on the situation. This can't be real, can it? Things like this don't happen.

Mouth suddenly dry I plead, "This isn't right. This can't be happening. How did you get that picture?"

The man ignored my question and instead answered, "You know what isn't right? Drunk drivers putting innocent people at risk. And grocery stores that sell alcohol to minors. You know what is right? You, on your knees, choking on a big dick, a cheap piece of plastic keeping you soft and chaste."

My phone buzzed again. And again. And again. I stared at the glowing screen, shocked into silence the same scene from the same angle flashed over and over. The only things that changed were the cock, my expression, and the date. One was nearly a year ago. Another from last week. Two months ago. Five. Over and over, more and more.

In many of them I looked scared and confused. In others I looked horny and frustrated. Oftentimes a combination of the above. Sometimes my hands were on the wall or the floor. Occasionally one or both of my hands gripped the shaft of the pole pressing into my muzzle. And in more than one my hands could be seen between my legs, gripping my balls and that pink bit of plastic between my fingers.

"Time for me to hop off the phone and for you to get to work, pup slut. But before I do, here's a repeat of the ground rules. You work any and all cocks that press into your stall and you suck them lovingly and diligently. Remember, small cocks need love too, right? And after they cum, you show off for the camera by holding open your muzzle so I can get a few high quality stills. I want to see your pink tongued cum smothered in their pearly jizz, understand?"

"Please... please don't do this," I begged, half mumbling the words as I brought the phone back up to my ear.

The strange ignored me, going on to say, "While you work, you don't talk and you don't communicate. You're there to suck dick, not beg. If you give even a single indication that you are anything other than a perfectly willing pole smoker, not only does this entire batch of photos get e-mailed to everyone you know but I'm also calling the cops on you. And I think you're going to find it incredibly difficult to explain why you're naked in a bathroom where multiple secret cameras have been installed. Every one of which has your fingerprints all over them."

I don't know why this particular question struck me but for some reason I felt compelled to ask, "Do... do I know you?"

The line went silent for a good ten seconds. I could feel the man considering my words, weighing whether or not he should bother to respond.

This fresh tension was broken when the voice replied, "We've never met, though you've begged to plead your case in person many times in the past. But that's going to change tonight. I'll be one of the men dropping by to make use of that well practiced muzzle of yours. And since you'll have no way of knowing which dick belongs to me, my advice is suck each man like this is the cocksucking olympics and you're going for the gold medal. After all, I'm driving a fair distance to visit you and believe me when I tell you that I am not someone you want to piss off."

"I refuse," I said, voice far more confident that I felt. "I won't do it and you can't force me."

Crushingly, the man merely laughed at this.

"That's your call, pup. I've explained the rules and I've explained the consequences for breaking them. I will say that should you actually manage to find a spine, that would come as quite a surprise to me. On every previous date night you always decided that an evening of sucking cocks, as distasteful as that might be, was far preferable to having your life ruined. And on that parting thought, I'm hanging up now, pup. The outside camera shows your first customer approaching. Let's show him a good time, yeah? Or you can explain to your family and friends what you've been getting up to in your spare time."

Then with a click, the phone went dead. Scrambling, I flick back through the pictures that had been messaged my way. They sure didn't look photoshopped. My stomach dropped even further into the floor, which I had not believed was possible.

A few seconds later I heard the far door to the bathroom open. I looked around for some way to escape even as I prayed that they were just here to take a piss. But naked as I was and with not a scrap of clothing in sight, running out into the night with nothing but my phone seemed a risky proposition. Not to mention the growing certainty I felt that the pitiless stranger I spoke to would absolutely not hesitate to ruin me.

But if what he implied is true, how is it possible that I didn't remember anything about this foul blackmail? If it weren't for the pictures and for finding myself in this awful place naked and on my knees, I'd of mocked this implausible situation as a poorly conceived practical joke.

Again my own handwriting jumped at me as though it had been written in neon color.

DON'T SASS HIM

YOU'LL REGRET IT

It suddenly occurred to me that if I'd left one message to myself, there was a strong chance that I would have left others. Assuming this fucked up situation had some basis in fact.

But I didn't have the opportunity to confirm or refute this theory as the stall adjacent to me was suddenly occupied. A man cleared his throat somewhat nervously and I heard him shuffle his feet.

Unable to help myself, I looked through the gloryhole.

It was a middle aged rottweiler in mechanic's overalls, faded oil stains dotting his well worn uniform. As though on cue, the man reach two large black furred hands down to his crotch and unbutton the fabric, exposing his thick sheath.

Both terrified and fascinated, I watched as the man rubbed at his sheathe with a far firmer touch than I would have assumed was comfortable. This went on for several seconds, the canine making a subdued grunt as he poked and prodded. Eventually, and with a resigned sigh, the man pushed his sheath against the hole and said, "Sorry, it's being a bit stubborn today. Why don't you go ahead and slip a tongue in there for me? That should get my engine revved."

Pressed against the gap between the stalls, I could see that the sheath looked slightly plump but otherwise unaroused. And despite knowing the potential consequences for refusing the man, I still couldn't really see myself giving in and performing as I was bid. Tongue out some stranger's sheathe in a disgusting public stall? It was so absurd as to be laughable, except clearly this rottweiler didn't think it was a joke. But I was a respectful business man and this... this was just too much.

As if to dispute my unspoken self assessment, my phone buzzed and a message flashed across the screen which read, "You have five seconds to get that tongue of yours inside his sheathe. 5... 4... 3..."

I was certain he'd do it. Somehow I knew it in my bones that I truly would lose everything if I didn't lean forward, put my tongue against the entrance to this stranger's sheathe, and press forward.

My mouth was open and leaning forward before I could stop myself. The seconds that followed involved shame and self loathing like I'd never experienced before as my tongue probed dog's currently dormant crotch. I found the hole and stopped, intuiting that if I allowed myself to go any further, that would be in. Having given up an inch, I'd give up a foot. Then a mile. And so until there were no more lines in the sand to cross.

A pleased rumble could be heard through the cheap, thin partition which was followed up by the mechanic encouraging, "Don't stop now, sweet lips. We're just getting to the good part. And don't fret none cus I showered for ya. So you just slip that tongue in there and see what papa tastes like, yeah?"

I hated myself for it but the needy edge to the dog's playful tone broke my resolve. The bitter truth was I just wasn't willing to have my life ruined because I was too stubborn to help a soggy waisted mechanic get it up. My face burned in shame as a strong masculine flavor permeated my mouth as my tongue slipped in and down. The man must have found this sort of service a turn on because I'd barely gotten the wet muscle down his furred cock holster before I felt my tongue get squeezed by his growing member.

"That's it, girl, you're doing swell. Wrap that tongue around and move it up and down for me."

The man spoke with a level of confidence that I found difficult to resist. I tried to brainstorm a way out of this inexplicable mess even as I performed as I was bid, my long lupine tongue working around a warm, growing mass. The dog sighed contentedly as his maleness pushed out of his sheath and into my mouth, the red length growing and thickening in time with his pulse.

"You know, back in highschool my nickname was Big Red. The teachers assumed I got it because of my football uniform, but my girlfriends and a few of the cheerleaders knew the truth. It doesn't get up as fast as it use to but otherwise it's the same ol' big red."

His voice drawled on taking on a low, seductive tone. Is this was the mechanic thought passed for dirty talk? I was tempted to roll my eyes but was distracted by how wide my jaws were having to stretch to accommodate the now rapidly expanding pole. Feeling a bulb of flesh to grow against my increasingly stretched tongue I pulled it back into my mouth lewd wet slurp, eliciting a fresh moan from the rottweiler.

"Slide my sheath back past my knot, then take your pretty little hand and give it a nice, firm squeeze. That's gonna make some pre squirt over your tongue, so don't be alarmed. You just swallow as often as you need as you glide those lips up and down ol' big red. Ten or so minutes of that and I'll give you something else to swallow. Come now baby, be a good girl and do as you're told."

Being spoken to this way made my face flush in anger and... something else. As I forced myself to comply with his demands I became hyper aware the sensation of confinement between my legs. Fuck was I horny. I ran my other hand between my thighs and took my own sack in hand. I grunted into the dog's now fully erect flagpole because of how sensitive they were. And not just sensitive but heavy, too. Practically swollen with need. As I squeezed down on the mechanic's knot, the pink plastic likewise squeezed down on my own burgeoning knot.

Salty warmth flooded my mouth, some of which ran down my chin as despite the canine's forewarning I'd been unprepared for the deluge. I coughed between swallows which perversely seemed to stroke the big man's ego.

"Don't you fret none, love. Big Red's got more where that came from. Here's a tip: Relax your hand, then squeeze a bit slower next time. Here, let me show you."

The man surprised me by pulling back a few inches from the gloryhole, forcing me to release my grip on his engorged knot. Moments later my mouth filled with a fresh batch of clear precum, just as strong tasting as before but in a far more manageable quantity. On the other hand, the thin stream went on and on making me marvel at the rottweiler's output. Not wanting to make a mess all over my stall's floor, I dutifully gulped down the stream. Then he pushed his unit forward again causing the knot to reemerge.

"Your turn. Hurry up now. It's gonna take you a few min to work my bone and I don't enjoy the idea of gettin' interrupted by the next fella."

Being talked to this way really getting under my skin. Did this low earner think he could talk to me this way just because he had a huge dick? I tried to convince myself that I hated how he was treating me but my uselessly straining member called me out as a liar.

My phone chose that moment to buzz with a new message and I took my other hand off my protesting sack long enough to check it.

"Look what a cute face you're making. You in love, pup? Treat him well or this picture is going straight to your mom. Her number still 555-1815?"

Attached was a close up shot of my face, eyes wide and lips stretched by the well endowed canine's "big red". Spit and precum made a mess of my chin as my hand clutched his knot as though it were a safety handle.

Unable to stop myself I texted back, "WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS?"

No response was forthcoming and I no choice to but turn to my attention back to the dog after he made a huff of impatience. I squeeze his knot, once again far too hard, and gagged as fresh precum blasted down my throat and down my chin.

Having outlined his expectations, Big Red said little else for the next quarter hour as I sucked and squeezed. There were a few "yeah, babe"s and a couple "work that meat," but otherwise the canine was content to get sucked off at whatever pace I set. Which happened to be fairly fast because I was eager to have this crude talking jerk out of this bathroom and out of my life.

Perhaps I would have been less eager to wrap this up had I known just how much splooge he was going to dump down my throat. I didn't even know there were men out there who could produce this much semen. I swallowed and swallowed, only remembering at the last moment that my blackmailer had made specific demands regarding providing him with a money shot.

The anonymous extortionist must have assumed I'd forgotten because as the flow of cum tapered off I got a message which read, "Get that mouth up and open, pup slut. Let me see that cream. And hold his cock against the side of your muzzle so the picture includes the spigot that dumped it there."

I hated this. I hated the stranger. I hated this mechanic. But I did as I was told, holding my muzzle up towards the ceiling as I positioned the dog's still dripping pole against my face for best effect. Fully aware of the fact that I was actively participating in my own degrading blackmail. Every video, every picture the man took just tightened the metaphorical noose around my neck. But given what he'd already sent my way, it seemed as though the voice had more than enough material already.

The bitter truth was, he had my dead to rights. I was his toy to do with as he pleased, as I'd just proven once again. He knew it and I now I knew it too. Fuck me, this is real bad.

I was processing this heavy truth when the man tugged himself out of my hand and pulled his package back through the hole. A ten dollar bill was shoved back through and I watched as it fell onto the ground. A phone number was written on it.

"I own a house on the east side. You ever get thirsty, you give me a ring. Later, love."

And with that the man was gone and I was once more alone. Naked, chastised, and deeply ashamed.

With no other takers immediately forthcoming, I knelt in silence as I struggled to cope with my new reality. Was I really going to suck off stranger after stranger just because some voice demanded it? And what was that about selling alcohol to minors? That wasn't my store's policy. Sure, on occasion I'd turn a blind eye as my younger clerks sold their friends a few beers, but that was common practice in this neighborhood. Was this person really ruining my life because some kid got drunk off my beer? That seemed beyond far fetched. And yet, here I was.

I wanted to text the man, to tell him exactly what I thought of his morality system. To threaten him with violence and the police. But again my handwriting caught my eye.

DON'T SASS HIM

YOU'LL REGRET IT

If I had indeed written that at some point in the past, that further corroborated the story that I'd been in this exact position at sometime in the past. Perhaps many times, if those dates were to be believed.

Even more, it meant that I'd done then what I was contemplating now. Telling the man off. Standing up for myself. Drawing a line in the sand. And it also meant that had gone poorly for me. So poorly that I'd left a message for myself to read later warning me off this path.

I began hunting for other messages.

Most of the writing was crude graffiti, text, pictures, symbols. Cock this, pussy that, and lazy drawn gang signs. I searched with my eyes as fast as I could, careful not to let the camera spot my efforts.

And just as the far bathroom door once more swung open, I spotted it. Smaller font this time and hidden away in the corner, but sure enough it was my own handwriting. I read and re-read the words as footsteps approached my stall.

HE'LL SAY YOU'VE NEVER MET

HE'S LYING!

Wait, what? Why would I write that and not provide his actual name or identity? That didn't make any fucking sense and I was suddenly in the awkward position of being pissed at a version of myself that I didn't even remember.

But thinking it through further, the message did make a certain sense if viewed from the perspective that it was written in a hurry and was just one of multiple messages I'd left for myself. Were there were two, there was probably more.

I was desperate to look around further but time had run out. Someone had entered the stall next to me and this time I was almost too embarrassed to peek. The memory of the overall wearing mechanic and his fat, black sheath still haunted me. Yet, given my circumstances, information gathering was critical and so I made myself look.

It was a nervous looking rabbit in a jogging outfit. He was young, maybe a highschooler. Fuck me I hoped he was a highschooler. The boy said nothing as he worked up his courage. Then, pushing down pants underwear in one motion, he exposed a thin long cock which was already rock hard.

The lad maintained his silence as he hesitantly pressed his unit into my stall. Apparently this time I would be forced to server without explicit guidance. Somehow that felt even worse. Dirtier. I couldn't blame the boy for forcing my hand.

The boy stood there for a few moments, narrow dick bouncing in the air as his sneakers shuffled against the concrete. I stared at it in consternation until I realized that I waited any longer, the boy was likely to zip up and leave. And there was no chance that my blackmailer would consider that a satisfactory outcome.

Helpfully, my phone buzzed once more with "encouragement."

"Get that cock in your mouth. Now."

The message was clear. The man behind the voice was watching me and he would not tolerate failure. I sighed, opened my mouth, and leaned forward.

But I'd barely begun suckling on the tender young thing before I heard a cross between a moan and a shout, just prior to my mouth filling once more with thick seed. It took me a moment to realize that the boy was already cumming. That is one hell of a hair trigger.

As his cock bounced and squirted over my tongue, he spoke for the first time saying, "Sorry! Sorry, sorry, sorry! Oh, fuck!"

I don't even think he was finished shooting before he pulled out, stuffed himself back in his jogging pants, and ran out of the stall. I was so caught off guard that I barely had presence of mind to show off the boy's modest load.

For a moment I thought that the youth's hair trigger would result in a brief reprieve from my gloryhole duty, but I was soon disappointed. Another suitor stepped in the stall just after the boy vacated it.

The newcomer was a panda with a stocky build dressed in a business suit. The man had a bit of a gut and I had to guess was in his mid fifties. When he spoke, his voice betrayed a thick accent. A traveler here on business? Some executive here on a work visa? I suppose it doesn't matter.

"You like pandas, yes? I feed you, so you suck good."

Without ceremony he unzipped and thrust a floppy, flaccid cock on my side of the stall. Apparently he wanted to get off but it was I who was to do all the work. What a class act.

Again I marveled at how far I'd fallen. If given the choice, there was roughly a zero percent chance that I'd ever go down on this out of shape, middle aged businessman. And yet, here I was.

"You sucky. Fast now. I have plane soon, first class. I feed you good."

The blowjob itself was thoroughly uneventful. I took the pushy foreigner's pole into my mouth. It grew surprisingly large. I sucked and stroked it, eager to finish him off. He made me pause to play with his balls, licking them all over. Eventually he came, the jerk not even bothering to warn me of his impending climax. Finally he rushed off to catch his plane, though I had just enough time to take the blackmailer's demanded picture, the panda's dripping member resting against my forehead as I showed off his load.

As the man departed the bathroom, I forced myself to swallow his load as my phone buzzed.

"You haven't gone down on many pandas. Did puppy enjoy his rare treat?"

Unable to contain my anger I texted back, "Fuck you, asshole."

Immediately after sending it, my blood ran cold. What did I just do? There was no way mister control freak was going to let that slide. Fuck me.

Sure enough, not long after the phone buzzed again.

"I see you're in need of a reminder as to who's in charge here. For the next comer, I want you to paint the floor with his load. Then you're going to prove to both of us that you remember who's running the show by cleaning the bathroom floor using only your tongue. And don't bother arguing back. Just do it."

Mentally I cursed myself for being so stupid. Just what did I think would happen? Was that tiny moral victory really worth this additional humiliation? I prayed that the next comer would be a light cummer. And when a horse stepped into the stall, I cursed all the heavens for heaping such misfortune upon me.

He looked to be about my age, early thirties or maybe late twenties. Fit build. And, unsurprisingly, hung like a horse.

"Hey pall, you there?" he asked, his voice chipper.

Not being permitted to talk, I knocked twice on the wall as way of response.

"Oh, you're a bit shy? Well that's okay," the equine said, his voice patient and understanding. "Hey, if it's alright with you, I got a couple of requests. Don't worry, it's nothing weird or creepy. It's just that, I like to have my tip and piss slit nibbled on. What do you say, pall? Can you help a horny horse get their cock lightly chewed on?"

I didn't actually have a choice in the matter so I knocked twice again just to get the show on the road. If the big horse wanted his battering ram of a dick chewed on, then that was what was going to happen. As it turned out, this chastised wolf was a full service slave. Not that this horse would ever suspect it.

"That's really great, thanks a million. Here ya go," he said, shoving his massive endowment through the barely large enough hole. "Enjoy!"

His cockhead was large, pink, and flared and it came as a surprise to me that I was actually looking forward to this particular chore. Maybe it was the feral instincts in me, but having a giant equine dong at my mercy as I dragged my lupine fangs over it really turned me on.

Sure, I wasn't looking forward to having to slurp up the man's predictably copious load off the bathroom tiles, but I managed to push that thought out of my head enough to enjoy the task at hand.

Using both hands, I played with the horse's veined cunt stuffer as I licked at its tip. Licking gave way to slurping which in turn morphed into gentle biting. The equine made it clear through his constant moaning that he loved the treatment.

"Wow, you're really great at this!" he encouraged. "I'm so glad I came back."

Something about statement bothered me, but I continued to play, suck, and nibble as a seemingly important thought eluded my conscious mind. Glad he came back. Came back. Came back.

Wait, so he's been here before? But does that matter? Why did this seem so important. More than important. My unconscious mind was screaming that it was critical. The horse's cock jetted precum over my tongue as my paws continued to stroke and tease, my eyes losing focus.

Then I mentally slapped myself. There was something I was missing. My eyes scanned over the stall's walls as I gave the horse the blowjob of his life.

That's when I spotted it. Hidden away in the far corner, barely legible in the low light.

HE MOCKED ME FOR BEING A GOOD COCK NIBBLER

FOR LICKING HIS CUM OFF THE BATHROOM FLOOR

Pieces began to click into place, one by one. Stunned by the implications of the words, it took me a moment to realize that the moaning horse was actively painting my face and chest with frothy jets of white cum. Not to mention my hateful chastity cage and the floor.

As though in slow motion, I watched the equine's pole pull away through the hole as it continued to make a complete mess of me. This was it... but I was too late. He was going to pull away, zip up, and stroll away. And I'd be left to lick up my blackmailer's mess off the floor.

My hand thrust out without conscious control, moving quicker than I thought possible. Just before the lightly-gnawed flared tip vanished through the hole, I seized it in an iron grip. Then I yanked, hard. Not willing to play tug-o-war with his own tender bits, with a pained gasp the horse allowed himself to be pulled through the hole and I immediately took the opportunity to get a second hand wrapped around the still dripping flesh.

"Wh-what are you doing!" the nameless equine shouted, his normally deep voice going up an octave in panic.

When I spoke, my voice was harder and more unforgiving than steel.

"Your puppy would like to have a word with you, sir," I said, giving the now half limp horse dong another yank for good measure.

"I... I don't know what you're talking about," the man answered. But he didn't sound confused so much as scared. I had him. This was it.

"In ten seconds I'm going to bite through the base of your cock and you and I going to watch it flop to the floor. I suggest you change your tune before then."

Then I started counting down.

By the count of four the horse had dropped the act.

"Okay, okay! Yes, I'm your master," the horse said, trying to affect a sense of self confidence despite his most tender bits squirming helplessly in my pawns. "And holy fuck are you in big trouble, you stupid puppy slut. What exactly do you think this is going to achieve? With a single command word I could order you to get to work on licking up my salty suds."

"If you could have done that, you already would have," I gambled.

His long silence in response was all the confirmation I needed. My heart soared at the prospect of finding a way out of this impossible blackmail trap.

"Fine. Have it your way. But in a few minutes someone else will enter the bathroom to get their cock sucked. All I have to do is shout at him to call the cops and you're fucked. Fucked twice. Fucked by the legal system and then truly fucked by me once you get out of jail."

I growled at him threw the partition and I felt his cock go even more limp in my grip.

"You so much as cry out for help and you can say goodbye to manhood. If someone else enters the bathroom, I recommend you stay still and silent. Like a good boy."

The horse considered my words and once again the room fell into a prolonged silence.

Finally he spoke up again. "Then just what exactly is your endgame here? You maim me, you go to jail. You let me go, well... maybe I'll go easy on you."

"Just like you've gone easy on me for what, over a year now?"

"Two and a half years, actually. I used to have you service men twice a week instead of just on Fridays but, honestly, I have better shit to do than babysit you," the man said, his voice taking on a cruel edge, if not as confident as before. "And by the way, you should know that if something happens to me, my cloud server is pre-scheduled to mail out its entire database to dozens of people and hundreds of free porn sites."

I processed this new information before deciding it was most likely true.

Then I said, "So we have each other by the balls. Me more literally than you. So what do you propose? Or should we just get on with ruining each other?"

The horse shuffled on his side of the wall, considering. As way of reply he said, "You let me go. I delete my database. We part ways, never to meet or talk again."

"Bullshit," I spat. "You'll just do whatever you always do to play with my memories and I'll be back to square one. Me on my knees sucking strangers cock and you laughing it up."

"True," the equine said, not bothering to refute it. "So what's your counter proposal?" He began tapping impatiently on the wall.

"You're going to pass me your phone. Then you're going to explain how you've been keeping m brainwashed or hypnotized or whatever this is. Then you're going to undo it. Right now, while I've got a grip on you."

The horse chuckled darkly.

"I'm not giving you my phone and I'm not explaining shit." The tapping continued. It was starting to give me a headache. The thumps pounded in my head like the beats of a war drum.

"You will or you're going to find yourself a few ounces less... less... a man."

My head throbbed. It was getting hard to concentrate. The drums... the drums were so loud. No... it was the tapping. Fuck me. I tried to clench down on the horse's dick. To bury my claws deep into his meat and force him to stop that horrible tapping.

But my hands wouldn't respond. They felt as though they were encased in hardened clay. And my arms seemed so heavy. So incredibly heavy that I couldn't keep them up any longer. They fell to my sides.

The horse pulled himself back through the hole with a relieved sigh.

"That was a close one! Guess I only have myself to blame. Grew too overconfident, meeting you in person again and again to get my cock sucked. Hey puppy, you listening to me?"

"Yes...sir," I responded dully. My throat felt like it was stuffed with cotton and it was so hard to think.

"Starting today, we're gonna make some long overdue changes to your mind... but first, why don't you go ahead and lick that mess up off the bathroom floor, yeah? You know that master's cum belongs in your stomach and not spread all over those dirty tiles."

Unable to think of anything else I might be doing instead, I defaulted to the man's request for lack of a better option. There was cum everywhere and while I was vaguely annoyed at having to perform the disgusting chore, I wasn't really bothered. It made sense that master wanted his cum cleaned up. Just as it made sense that I should be the one to do it.

As I licked the cold, salty streaks off the floor, master joined me in my stall and placed a set of headphones over my ears. The sound of drums filled my head, driving out almost all other thoughts. My mind became like the empty desert, waiting desperately for the rains of renewal to return and bring relief.

Once the floor was as clean as my mind, master explained what the future held in store for me.