FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

>Warning: Contains slavery, dominance, imprisonment, forced sexual acts, oral sex, m/m situations, mentions of physical violence, torture, death and possibly vore.<

>Sorry for the delay in this, and also for the slight drop in quality. I have had a really busy few weeks and have unfortunately found little time for writing. Eventually I decided to just go for it, wrote this and edited in a couple of hours, and am posting it for you guys, so enjoy it!<

>Experimenting with a few different things in this one, and also trying to look more into the mind and methods of our slightly deranged host, so be warned! :P<

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Having forced the young fox to inhale yet more of the sickly scent lingering on his fellow slave's urine-soaked fur, Jarlan bound him firmly to the floor once more. Pausing for a brief moment, he ran one of his large, powerful paws softly over the creature's muzzle, before standing and continuing his evening walk through the rows of naked, furry bodies that awaited his attention.

Whimpering softly, they tried to draw his focus towards their weakening states. They needed refreshment, anything however small to help ease their starving bodies, but instead he only smirked slightly to himself and passed them by.

Every so often he paused, but this was only to allow his eyes to scan the filthy, blood-stained fur of his captives before making his way steadily onwards once more. He was looking intently for one particular creature, one who would make a suitable candidate for the evening, but he was unsure exactly where he had deposited the beast.

Grinning lightly to himself, he spotted the slightly trembling body lying huddled against the far wall and made his way softly towards it, looking down in delight at the frightful state of the defeated creature.

This was the one, slave number 25. Having been little more than a de-sensitized sex object, he had become everything that Jarlan expected of his subjects, earning praise and reward for his loyal and eager work. For a brief moment, he had known the joy of seeing a light slither of hope perched teasingly upon the horizon.

Through empty promises, he had managed to imbue the creature with a false sense of hope, encouraging the belief that luxuries awaited around the very next bend. With every service he provided to his master, his foolish, gullible eyes lit up, hopeful of some praise and positive attention from the one he pleasured, but instead he had been cast aside.

A new favourite had come along, and he had been stripped of any meager positivity that may have remained in the overwhelming bleakness of his life. As the reality of the situation settled in, Jarlan had been left with the pleasure of watching the beast crumple beneath his grasp.

Now lttle more than a tangled mess of blood and pus, the once muscular body of the beast lay broken and shattered before him. Ripped and torn, patches of it's fur had been roughly cut aside to accomodate the deep, bloody wounds that had been infliced upon his naked flesh. Even as Jarlan watched, the thick, sticky crimson blood began to ooze once more from the slaves latest wounds, trickling softly over the creature's scarred torso to join the putrid mess lying heavily upon the floor.

That was the way of their master, the mentality of the one who had total control of their very lives held firmly with his paws. He wanted to play with them, toying with their bodies and their emotions; dangling the prospect of a better future above their bound heads before snapping it away once more.

More than the sexual pleasure he derived from their bound and helpless bodies, he wanted to watch them suffer; to bask in their pain as they begged for mercy on the cold, blood-covered floor. Now, as his life drew to a cruel and pointless end, this slave would once again know the painful punishments he could inflict upon a helpless body, and would feel the life slipping away from him in a vast sea of suffering.

"Are you awake, my pet?" he muttered softly, kneeling besides the creature and pushing his face closer towards him, speaking in a low, gentle voice that still seemed to echo softly around the cavern. "Are you ready to play?"

His body screaming in agony as a fierce, burning pain flooded through his beaten frame, the creature knew there was little hope of survival. He would die as several had before him, a withered and faded beast that would soon be forgotten from the hearts and minds of those who had known him.

This was his fate, and it seemed pointless to try and fight it. Instead he contented himself with lifting his heavy, exhausted head slightly off the ground, turning it to stare weakly at his captor out of the feeble, fading eyes of a creature who knew his time had come. He had no idea what cruel fate this beast had in store for him, but he was prepared to pass on, and in doing so perhaps provide some brief respite to his fellow slaves.

For while one suffered, the others were granted rest. This would be his final service to his fellow creatures, and most likely his last act in life.

"So, there is still a little fight left within you," Jarlan's voice broke into his thoughts, little more than a low, menacing growl that was barely audiable even in the still, eerie silence of the cavern. "Maybe you are stronger than I thought you were. Perhaps you have a chance of surviving a little longer still."

Taking the head of his pet firmly in his paws, Jarlan ran his fingers through the tangled mesh of fur, reveling in the potent scents hanging teasingly upon the slave's weakening body.

The creature was disgusting, and it served only to increase his lust for the beast. Running his fingers through a thick mess of dried blood and various bodily fluids, he found himself licking his lips and sniffing intently at the air.

With the sweet scents tickling at his sensitive nose, he quickly found himself overwhelmed with emotion. He needed pleasure, was craving the sweet, loving touch of the beast against his body, and such thoughts served only to arouse him further.

Feeling the tip of his penis emerging from it's short, stubby sheath, he knew that he needed to feel the creature's eager touch. His grip still firmly upon the filthy head before him, he jolted it downwards, thrusting the slave's muzzle into his sheath before uttering a low, yet firm command.

"Love it."

Knowing that this simple act would consume more of his captors valuable time, the slave set to his work with as much strength and determination as his frail body would allow. Forcing his tongue forth from the safe confines of his mouth, he ran it softly along the edge of the filthy sheath before him, barely even noticing the bitter taste of the various fluids caking the furry object.

He was accustomed to it by now, for the hygiene of his master had deteriorated greatly in the last few months. Each and every time his services had been called upon, some new and disturbing fluid clung tightly to the already sickly fur of the wolf, until his own body had gradually learnt to supress the feelings of revulsion he had previously come to know.

Easing his lips around the erect member, he suckled upon it for a moment, his tongue gently wrapping itself around the penis as he flicked it teasingly against the sensitive tip.

While the pleasured whimpering of his master echoed softly through the murky cavern around him, the slave slipped his mouth more firmly over the short, fleshy object. Increasing the intensity of his eager licking, he toyed briefly with the idea of extracting some kind of revenge upon his captor, some small amount of pain in repayment for the foul deeds that had he had been forced to endure.

He wanted to bite down, to sink his teeth firmly into the soft pink tissue before him and feel the sweet river of deliciously refreshing blood streaming down into his awaiting jaw. It would be sweet justice, and an action that would draw immense howls of pain from the creature that had inflicted such screams so often from those he had enslaved.

It would be such a beautiful sight, and for one brief moment the master would know the fear and pain he so much enjoyed, but it would be a foolish risk to take.

Unable to make much use of his body due to the searing pain slinking through his battered bones, he would have no hope of subduing the beast. His actions may bring a short term pain and humilation to his master, and would probably cause some for the remainder of the beast's life, but they would be sure to have dire consequences for his fellow slaves.

His actions would not go unpunished, and each and every creature in the cavern would suffer a slow, painful death. Their master's vengeance would be swift, and his methods as violent as he could possibly provide. Using the few weapons he had at his disposal, he would ensure that each of their number begged only for death before the end, and then he would prolong their suffering, denying them the chance to die and escape from his brutal clutches.

He had witnessed such an act before, and he could not be responsible for inflicing such treatment upon those he had come to know.

Instead he had to content himself with his thoughts. He had a job to do, a final task to carry out, and his master was whining desperately for release.

Pulling his lips partially back from over the wolf's slender penis, he gave the tip a further loving lick and felt the furry body shudder beneath his touch. With every gentle movement of his tongue the pleasure of the wolf mounted. His body was becoming tense, and his breathing heavy as he let out a deep, carrying moan of longing that echoed around the room. His pleasure was reaching it's peak.

Shuddering slightly at the thought of enjoying his master's sweet, refreshing seed, the slave gave the penis another volley of small, loving licks. At each and every touch the body tensed slightly more, the moaning of the beast fading into a weak, pleasured whimper as a stream of semen burst suddenly forth into the slave's awaiting muzzle.

Refreshed by the feel of the thick, salty fluid oozing down his throat, the slave pulled his lips back fully from around the erect member. For a second he paused, allowing the white, sticky substance to dribble down onto the heaving body of the wolf, before eagerly lapping at the edge of the penis with his long, pink tongue.

Every gentle lick refreshed his scorched, blistered throat, yet at the same time he knew he was drawing ever closer to his own death. Once his master had regained his composure, had relaxed enough to return to his feet and administer punishment to his loyal subject, the blade would fall and his life would be stripped away.

Fear was beginning to surface within him, and he found that even an escape from the foul life he had known was not enough to subdue his feelings of anguish. As strong as he had always tried to stay, the idea of death was not one that he could bear, and a small tear formed in the corner of his eye as he ran his tongue up towards his master's lightly heaving belly.

"Y-You're a good lad," The wolf muttered softly, his voice heavy and laboured as he took the head of the creature firmly in his paws once more. "You were always one of my favourites, it's such a shame that your life has to come to an end.

Usually a cold, heartless master, the wolf had never shown the slightest remorse or sympathy for his actions, but for a brief moment his voice contained a hint of pity for the beast. As he sat up, he ran his paw softly through the thick matted fur on the creature's head once more, lightly scritching the large, pointed ears to provide some minor comfort to his loyal subject.

He was genuinely sad to see him go, not only for the fact he had provided such loyal and loving service, but also because he had been a dedicated fighter. Though he had been broken and shattered beyond anything Jarlan had ever witnessed before, he had still maintained some degree of hope, some belief that a bright light shone just over the horizon. Not anymore.

The end had come and his journey was complete, but for the first time Jarlan found himself reluctant to kill. There was a certain amount of respect for the beast, and he wanted to give him a fitting end; one that was worthy of such a creature, and that would provide a valuable service to his fellow slaves.

"I'm going to let them do it," He muttered, laying the head of the creature back upon the floor as he got to his feet and approached the silent, shivering slave nearest to him. "I think it's the best way for you to go. You'll be providing them with much needed nourishment, and I promise it won't hurt for long. It's better than having me do it anyway."

Chuckling lightly to comfort himself, he walked slowly amongst the slaves once more, removing the tight, binding ropes wound firmly around their muzzle from half a dozen of them before turning away from the group.

"Do it." He whispered, knowing that the bound creatures would be unable to contain their excitement for long. They were hungry, craving the sweet, flowing blood of the helpless beast as he lay bound and shivering beneath them.

All they could see before them was a hot, heaving mess of fur and food that would relieve their starving bellies and refresh them for days to come. Not one of them saw him as a fellow slave as they lunged towards him and sank their sharp teeth into his matted, bloody fur. They were hungry, they were desperate, and they gratefully siezed the opportunity that was provided to them.

As one long, piercing scream of pain rang out through the murky cavern, Jarlan himself turned away, his eyes firmly to the floor as he found himself unable to watch the demise of such a brave and fiesty warrior.

For the first time in years he had known what it was to feel regret, to hesitate over the fate of one of his subjects. For one brief moment emotion overcame him, producing a lone tear that trickled softly down his muzzle and dripped lightly off the tip off his nose. He knew that he had only done what he had to do, but slave number 25 would be sorely missed, and his death was likely to play heavily upon his mind for many nights to come.