FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

>Warning: Contains slavery, dominance, imprisonment, mentions of torture, hints at the ingestion of bodily waste, forced acts and violence.<

>I originally intended to write this as a single piece, but I thought it worked better in several parts. It's perhaps not as well written as I would've liked, but I hope you enjoy it anyway. Apologies for the slightly extreme tags, but I thought it was better to be safe than sorry with things like that.<

Panting heavily as he pulled his tired, weary body through yet another tangled mesh of roots and branches, the young fox paused briefly and gazed around at his eerily still surroundings through wide, anxious eyes.

There was something strange about this area. Something that he had never before encountered in his ten years of adventuring through some of the darkest places in the land.

It was the silence, perhaps. That eerie and unnerving suggestion that nothing or nobody dared to dwell in such a place. No birds chattered happily in the sky far above, and no small critters weaved their way through the dead, crunchy leaves on the ground below. He was alone and, for the first time in his life, he felt decidedly afraid.

Not that he would let it slow his progress, for he knew that turning back now was not an option. He was drawing ever closer to the vast riches said to lay within a well-protected labyrinth further in, and, as a true treasure hunter, he refused to turn his back on the chance of discovering some of the remarkable treasures of the world.

With no idea of his exact destination, for the roughly-drawn map stowed safely in the pocket of his wet, ragged trousers had been rather vague on this essential point, he had resolved only to find a decent location to set-up a camp. From there he could work properly, exploring each and every inch of this forsaken place until he discovered some deep secret that would lead him to his goal.

It was imperative that he find such a place to rest soon enough and he knew it well, for his four powerful paws were beginning to ache, exhausted through a long, hard day hacking and slashing his way through the wilderness. If he didn't find a suitable enough location soon, he'd be forced to sleep against the trunk of a tree, unsure exactly what creatures may descend upon him from amongst the wilderness.

Shuddering slightly at this thought, he pushed determinedly onwards into the murky bowels of the forest, cutting down the wild vines that grew thick and heavy across his path as he trudged slowly and cautiously through the undergrowth.

He wouldn't be rushed, and he refused to become desperate and rash in his decisions. Through his experiences he had learned the importance of a steady head and a patient, sensible nature, and he wouldn't let his fear lead him to make foolish mistakes.

For a short while he continued in the same vein, wearily cutting through the overgrown plants one by one until he found himself standing in a small, badly-lit clearing, one which would doubtless provide adequate space for his rough encampment.

Feeling relieved, he pulled the large, sweat-soaked bundles from his back, throwing them roughly to the dry, dirty floor before gazing anxiously around him and sniffing intently at the air.

There was still nothing. No scent of life besides that of the many plants growing haphazardly around him.

He couldn't understand it, and it made him more nervous still, for creatures always found themselves drawn to lush, fertiles areas such as this. It provided food, housing and protection in numbers from those who would hunt the weaker critters of the world, and he could see no reason for it to have become so deserted.

Shrugging lightly to himself, he bent over one of his wet, tatty packs and began to pull a rather large assortment of sheets and fabrics from within it, arranging them neatly on the floor before him, ready to construct a light, make-shift shelter to offer a mild protection from the elements.

Before he could begin his construction however, he was halted by a sudden rustling in the bushes behind him. Nervous but alert, he turned hastily around, finding his gaze drawn to a haggard, distraught looking creature, who shuffled closer to the fox and looked up at him out of cold, mournful eyes.

Completely naked and smelling of a sickly combination of blood and urine, the very scent of such a being made the fox's stomach churn. It was truly disgusting to behold, yet he could not help but feel a strange sense of empathy for the defeated creature, and eased himself slowly and cautiously forwards, drawn onwards by his overwhelming curiosity.

There were so many questions that needed answering: What was this creature? Why was he living alone and abandoned in such a dark and desolate place? Would he know what was going on, and why the area seemed so deserted?

It seemed unlikely, but he still felt determined to try, to approach this creature and attempt to gain some strand of knowledge that may help him in his journey.

Drawing ever closer, the hunter became aware of the thick, slowly-drying blood that matted the creatures thinning white fur, oozing over his abdomen and dribbling steadily down his legs. This, combined with the lack of physical afflictions or scars upon the naked body, made him extremely nervous. He could see now that the blood he had scented belonged not to the creature, but to something, or somone else.

Beginning to see his initial approach as somewhat foolish, he began to edge slowly backwards, staying out of reach of the creature as he fumbled for the handle of the blade hanging loosely upon his belt.

Before he could draw it, however, the creature made it's own move. Letting out a blood-curdling howl of rage that echoed through the deserted forest, he dropped down onto all fours and hurtled towards the startled fox.

Though he was an accomplished warrior, the creature took him completely by suprise. Bundling him roughly to the floor, it placed a large, filthy paw firmly upon his throat as a string of saliva dribbled downwards onto his stationary muzzle.

Knowing that he was beaten, and feeling the life draining from his body as the creature applied weight to his restraining paw, the fox kicked out viciously as he made a desperate attempt to break free.

To his dismay, however, the creature merely applied more crushing weight to his already throbbing throat, quickly rendering him unable to function as he struggled desperately for air.

Feeling his body weakening as his eye-sight began to fade, he cast one final look up at the creature who had defeated him, just in time to see the beast grin lightly to himself and lower his head towards the hunter's own.

"I just love it when they send me the cute ones." He muttered softly in the fox's short, pointed ear, giving it a slow, gentle lick as he released his grip on the throat before him.

Before he could begin to fathom the creatures sinister motives, his body gave a weak, involutary shudder and began to relax, his eyes closing as his breathing faded and his thoughts sank into darkness.

When he awoke sometime later, he found himself lying roughly upon his stomach on the cold stone floor. His wrists and ankles were well and truly bound, and a thick piece of cloth obscured his normally keen vision.

He had no idea exactly where he lay, but the heavily lingering scents assaulting his nose led him to believe that he was in some sort of cavern.

Most of these smells he knew; the sickening odor of urine and feces by far the most potent, somewhat masking the less overwhelming aroma of blood and mould mingled in amongst them. The others, however, remained unclear to him. Probably belonging to the other creatures that he knew lay around him, their presence betrayed by their soft movements and gently rustling chains.

Although he was not alone, this knowledge provided him little comfort. Naked, bound and helpless, he was surrounded perhaps by others who could provide him with little or no assistance, and he had no idea exactly what beastly service he would be expected to perform for his captor.

Trembling slightly, he tried to pull himself up from the ground, to assume a more comfortable seating position from which to make the most of his unhindered senses, but found more than simple movement to be impossible.

There was no escape, no hope of breaking his bonds and freeing himself from captivity, and this knowledge filled him with despair. He would be used for whatever sinister motive his captive had, and then perhaps be cast aside, left to die out in the wilderness with no ability to defend himself.

Giving a deep sigh of resignation at this revelation, he allowed his head to fall back upon the floor, only to have to raise it again as the soft shuffling of footpaws upon the ground made him prick up his ears and listen intently.

They were the calm, care-free steps of his captor, and he knew they were heading towards him.

Unable to do anything but lay still and listen to the slowly approaching steps of his captor, the fox trembled slightly and hoped desperately to himself that they would pass him by.

Not that it was likely to happen, for he knew that this creature would be desperate to make the most of his new prisoner, and was unlikely to leave him in peace to suffer his fate. He was, therefore, thoroughly unsurprised to feel a paw grasp roughly at the scruff of his neck, yanking him firmly into a kneeling position as a hoarse voice whispered softly in his ear.

"Welcome, number forty three." It spoke, as the hot, foul-smelling breath of the creature brushed against his face. "Welcome to Jarlan's lair."

Placing a paw firmly under the muzzle of the bound fox, Jarlan forced his head back and began fumbling lightly with the cloth obscuring the creatures eyes.

As the fabric began to slip softly around his head, the hunter once again felt a strong sense of fear welling up inside of him. Though he was curious and deeply interested in what he might find when he opened his eyes, he was afraid to do it, for fear of the disgusting sights that may await him.

Taking a deep breath, he opened first one eye and then the other, before pausing with a look of disgust on his face as he looked despairingly around the room.

It was, as he had expected, no more than a small, rough-walled room, set within what was undoubtably a much larger cavern. Along much of the bare wall-space, the mould that he had smelt before could be seen, spreading unhampered towards the ceiling.

All around him, his fellow captives sat in silence, many of them bound as he had been, and some of them with extra rope tied around their muzzles. Most had their eyes closed, though several of them peered at him through the darkness, the brightness of the candles burning on the walls reflected in the light gleam of their eyes.

Every so often one would whimper; their weak, feeble attempts echoing lightly around the room, until they died along with any hope they may have had of recieving help.

Injuries went untended, blood flowing down the many naked bodies and dribbling onto the floor, where it met the sea of urine, feces and other assorted ooze that lay festering upon the dirty ground.

"Do you see now what awaits you?" The creature binding him hissed, forcing his head to turn away from the disturbing sights to focus instead upon the dirty, blood-stained fur of his captor. "These are your only friends now, and this is the only life you'll ever know."

Dragging him firmly by the scruff, he moved him towards the feebly stirring body of a starved, black-furred creature, who whimpered softly at their approach before weakly closing his eyes.

"This is one of my earlier aquisitions, number seven," Jarlan spat, dropping his captive roughly upon the stone before aiming a ferocious kick at the ribs of the slave, who let out a loud, echoing whimper of pain before falling silent once more. "He's not as weak as he makes out, really. There's still some use in him after nearly five years, and I'm sure he'll go for much longer yet."

Grasping the fox firmly once more, he dragged him instead towards a stationary, yellow-furred creature, one whose body lay thick with blood oozing from the many gashes upon his naked body.

"This one, however." Jarlan began, taking the fox's head firmly in his paws and forcing his nose against the urine-soaked sheath of the stationary creature. "He might not make it through the night, and he's one of my newer ones. Slave number thirty two. Get a bit of a feel for him, because this is what awaits those who refuse to do what they are told."

Held firmly in place, the hunter was forced to inhale the sickening scent of the creatures filthy body, gagging slightly as the potent aroma flowed into his nostrils.

Feeling sick, he struggled desperately against his captors firm grip for a moment, before pausing and running his eyes over the body of the unfortunate creature, taking in the small, pus-filled blisters thriving on the numerous patches of bare skin. Areas where the fur had presumably been ripped away from his body, leaving it free for the infections to spread.

"Do you see? Do you understand?" Jarlan spoke, roughly shaking the fox's head and forcing his nose to rub against the creatures naked body. "Number seven will be well rewarded for his loyalty. Tonight, when most of you dine off whatever nourishment you can find on the floor, him and several of the others will be eating from a bowl. When most of you lie bound tonight in your sleep, those few who I consider worthy will have their paws unbound, allowing them to enjoy the pleasure of your company as a reward for their loyalty."

"This is what awaits you, depending on the quality of service you provide. Those who serve well will be rewarded, while those who don't will suffer. Which will you pick, which way will you go? We shall soon know..."