FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Learning to Please Her

Part 1

For Sinister

By Draconicon

Waiting at the bus station for his ride, Waylon started to second-guess his motivations for this. The whole idea of heading off somewhere new, where nobody but a good friend knew him, had been great when he was packing his shit back at his apartment, the landlord watching him to make sure that he didn't steal anything from the place. The asshole. Probably should have said more than he did, since he was never coming back.

But now that he didn't have anyone else looking over his shoulder, he was wondering if it was really a good idea. He was putting a lot of trust in Carl here. If this was some sort of shitty offer, then he was going to fucked.

And he's been weird lately...

Waylon shifted from foot to foot, the rat shaking his head as he looked back at the departing bus. It was the last one for the next hour, so he was stuck here regardless. He pulled his phone from his pocket, checked the time. The driver was supposed to be here ten minutes ago, which meant that either they were late, or they weren't coming.

Fucking...

Shoving the phone back into his pocket, Waylon gave in to the nervous energy he felt, pacing back and forth around the bus station, trying to burn it off. His loose pants flicked back and forth around his heels, his bald tail swinging around behind him. Every time that he turned, he turned on his heel, spinning and nearly swiping branches off the nearby trees.

"Goddammit, goddammit, goddammit...Where the fuck's that driver?"

There was no sign of her. Or him. Or whatever. He was starting to wonder if there even was a driver.

Since when does he know anyone that's got a fucking driver?

Waylon wound himself up to the point of being willing to punch a tree - and did - just as something revved down the road. He paused, rubbing his knuckles, looking down the street.

It wasn't just a car, but a limo that came 'round the bend. Long, stretched out, and perfectly white, it looked like something some rich asshole would have sent their daughter out in, probably stuffed to the gills with bodyguards. The last thing that Waylon expected was for the limo to pull a turn and slide into the bus station, the limo coming to a halt right in front of him.

"...The fuck?"

The front passenger window rolled down, a violet-furred feline sticking her head out.

"Get in."

"Who the fuck are you?"

"Your driver. Now, you getting in or not?"

"...You're kidding. Carl was telling the fucking truth?"

"If you mean the mistress's boxer, then yes."

"...Holy shit. Ha! You got a rat telling you what to do. That's rich."

"Are you getting in or not? I'm more than willing to drive off without you, you know."

"Yeah, yeah. Pop the trunk."

As the limo's back went up, he tossed his suitcase in. There wasn't much to carry, besides that and his shoulder bag. He dragged that into the limo with him, sitting down in the center of the wide seat. The whole place smelled like real leather, and there was a little drink bar at the far end. He reached for it -

"Don't even think about it," the feline up front said.

"Hey, I'm just taking advantage of the amenities."

"They're for the mistress. I was just in a hurry getting the car going."

"What, Carl yank you out of bed with someone teaching you your place?" Waylon asked with a sneering smirk on his face.

The cat looked back at him in the car mirror, her eyes narrowed to the point where even he started to think better of pushing that button any further. He leaned back on his seat, pretending as if it was what he had wanted to do all along, and crossed his arms.

"So, where we going?"

"The mistress's manor," the driver said, shifting the stick and pulling out of the station. "I think that you will be impressed."

"I lived in a dumpster fire for the last six years. I think anything'll be a step up."

"Well, that explains a lot..."

"What was that?"

"..."

"That's what I thought."

"...Excuse me, sir."

The window between his part of the limo and the driver's cab went up, cutting off all sound. However, Waylon could make out the cat's silhouette, and it looked like she'd just pulled her phone to her ear. She was driving surprisingly well while making a call, but he still gripped the seat a bit more than he had been. Nerves were still a thing.

Eventually, the phone went down, and so did the screen. They sped up as they reached the main road heading out of town, and as soon as they were on the straightaway, the cat looked back at him.

"You're lucky that the mistress is understanding."

"Heh, what, you tried to tattle on me?"

"I was informing her of what sort of person you are."

"Heh, you want to throw me out on the curb, don't you?"

"You have no idea."

"Well, you can't, can you?"

"...Keep talking. Just...keep talking. I want to remember how much I want to teach you a lesson when the mistress gets tired of you."

There was just enough of a growl there that Waylon was able to pick up that she was serious. He told himself, however, that he could always go back to teasing and poking at her when he was at the mansion, wherever this place happened to be, and he subsided, leaning back against the leather seat.

He wondered just how far they were going to go. Considering how little he'd heard of mansions in the past, he imagined that it was going to be at least half the state away. He leaned his head back and closed his eyes.

Five minutes later...

"We're here."

"Nnngh...what?"

"We're here."

He blinked, looking out the window. Sure enough, they'd come to a stop. On his left were a great deal of looming bits of greenery, hedges that were carved out to look like people. Mostly like people, at least; there were some 'alterations' that made it clear that they'd been enhanced somehow, with some serious nudity problems.

He blushed, looking away from the green, leafy cocks to look out the right side of the limo. There, leading up from marble steps, was the manor, and he whistled as he watched it go up, up, up, before stopping at a fourth floor that covered just over half the rest of the house. Gargoyles lined the various layers between the floors, looming over the grounds and staring down at the greenery.

The cat driver opened the door with a harrumph, obviously still not happy with him. He managed to keep a smirk on his face as he slid out of the car, pulling his bag with him.

"Heh, thanks for the ride. 2/5. Bad customer service, but good driver."

"I told you, asshole. Keep talking."

"Oh, asshole now, not sir? Man, you really need to learn your place."

The way that she looked at him was not how he was used to people staring at him. He was used to seeing women give him either a look of utter fury, or something that was beaten down, waiting for him to tell them what to do. This was something different. She had the fury, alright, but there was something else, something anticipatory, something that made him feel as if he'd missed something.

It didn't make him feel very comfortable, either, almost like he was looking into something unnatural. He pulled his bag over his shoulder that much more tightly as he cleared his throat, looking around.

"So, where's Carl?"

"He's fighting a match."

"Now? Asshole was supposed to be here to meet me."

"Yes, the mistress was aware."

"Controlling bitch."

"Care to say that to her face?"

"I think I will."

"You'll get your chance; she wanted to meet you privately first." The cat pointed to the front door. "Straight inside, up the stairs at the end of the hall, first room on the right on the second floor."

"You're not going to take me there?"

"You live here now, dick. And I don't work for you."

She walked off, pulling at her suit jacket and tossing it into the shrubs. She was in the process of pulling at the buttons of her blouse when she disappeared behind the front doors of the mansion.

"...Fucking weirdo."

Shaking his head, he walked around to the driver's door. It was still unlocked, and he tapped the button on the console to open the trunk. Grabbing his suitcase, he wheeled it behind him up the stairs, and pushed the door open.

No sign of the driver, but the mansion itself was more than sufficiently eye-catching to hold his attention. He whistled as he walked inside, looking left, right, up, down. The floor was a deep black, interrupted only by purple carpets that seemed like they were almost moving to look at. The walls were covered in erotic paintings, some of them having the same illusion of movement as the carpets, swaying like some underwater gif on the internet, making it look like the couples and orgies on the paintings were always in 'action,' so to speak.

He didn't quite blush, but he didn't linger as he walked by them, keeping his eyes on the floor rather than the wall porn. He knew that Carl had a tendency to find the freaks out there, but the other rat had never mentioned that this place was so...weird. He hoped that this was just something that was limited to this first hall.

As he followed the carpets to the stairwell at the back, he heard the sound of other people moving through the house. Every time that he stopped to look, however, he couldn't see them. Weird, too; it sounded like some pretty big folk moving around, but the fact that they were heard but not seen was starting to weird him out.

Up and over to the stairs, up the steps. Each one was smooth, almost slippery, and he felt like he had walked into some sort of perverted haunted house. Everything felt off, wrong, different, and he didn't know how to handle it.

He reached the second floor, his hand pausing near the end of the stair railing. It looked like it was more of a dick than the usual ball that marked the start and stop of a bannister, and he slowly pulled his hand away as he stepped off the stairs.

"Hello?" he called down the hall. It was just as silent and empty as the one downstairs, and while there were less paintings, there were more statues. Erotic statues. Pornographic statues, as a matter of fact, with dicks sticking out in place of weapons across the hall. "Hello? Anyone here?"

"The first room on the right, I believe Andrea told you?"

The new voice was soft, but sultry, and deep. It felt like a finger running down his spine, and he whipped his head towards the source, a door cracked open on his right. The rat grumbled at the 'summons' of the voice, making his way toward it.

"Y'know, someone with manners woulda met me at the front door."

"And someone else with manners wouldn't be insulting my staff, now would they?"

"Never said I had 'em."

"Then you can't complain when others do not, I would say."

He pulled the door open, ready to give this bitch a piece of his mind, only to freeze in place as soon as he stepped inside.

His 'host', if that's what she was, was a rather startling woman. She stood over a foot taller than him, and she had a teasing smile that showed something longer than the average tongue resting in her mouth. He swallowed, his eyes going up to hers, only to see that they were darkened, not quite right, not quite normal.

The more that he looked at her, the more that he realized how not-normal she was. There was a hint of something bigger to her everywhere that he looked, something more sensual, more hedonistic, more of a bestial hunger that was barely held in check by something more civilized than it needed to be.

Then, when he was done ogling her breasts, he looked further down, and saw that her dress had a bulge over the crotch, one that was almost too big to miss. He swallowed again, still frozen in the doorway.

"What the..."

"Come inside, Waylon."

She had a gentleness to her voice, but there was a sparkle in her eyes, just as there had been in the feline bitch's eyes, too. Something that commanded, something that made it clear that saying 'no' wasn't an option.

So, he stepped inside. The door closed on its own, and the other woman, if that's what she was, sat down on a chair in the center of the room. She gestured for him to take the other one, one he hadn't seen, just in front of her.

"Sit."

"..."

"Sit, Waylon...if you still want a place here..."

She never stopped smiling. It wasn't a toothy, psychotic smirk, either. He could deal with that. He'd had bitches that looked like that all the time, and he knew how to handle that sort of toothy grin, that insanity. This was something different, and it left him more than a little afraid. The rat made his way forward, moving around the chair before carefully sitting down. He half-expected some sort of chain to grab him, or some trap to activate, but nothing of the sort occurred. He just sat down, staring at her.

She was neither furred, nor normal-toned in her skin color. She had this ashen-lavender color to her, something that was dead and yet alive, something completely unnatural for this world. Behind her something flickered, almost like something moving before disappearing again. It was all...wrong.

"So, Carl tells me that you were having some...difficulties with your life. Would you like to elaborate on that?" she asked.

"What'd Carl tell you?"

"Very little. He merely mentioned that you were...dealing with hard times. Considering your mouth, I imagine that you've had a lot of those."

"I'm good with my mouth, bitch. Ask any of my sluts."

"Hmm, is that what you call them?"

"I call 'em whatever I want. I'm Waylon Quickfoot, and I take what I want."

"Really? I'm starting to feel that you take whatever you can get."

"You listen here - nng!"

He had risen halfway to his feet before she moved, and startlingly quickly, too. The pointed toes of her high-heeled shoe caught him right in the balls, not enough to kick them in, but enough to stop him from standing up. She slowly pushed down, and he went with her, sitting down as the glass-tip of her shoes held him there.

"Ah. Ah. I didn't say that you could stand up."

"..."

"Yes, that's what I thought. Waylon, tell me, do you know where you are?"

"In a nightmare, from the feel of it."

"Hardly the way to appeal to my good graces, little one."

"I'm not looking to flatter you, you - Nnngh!"

"Word choice, little Waylon. It does matter," she said with a small chuckle. "Carl learned that quite quickly. He barely does more than squeak, these days."

"Nnngh...that...that explains the...text messages."

"Indeed. Now...let's try that again. Do you know where you are, Waylon?"

"Some mansion in the middle of nowhere."

"Just outside the city, as a matter of fact."

"Bullshit."

"Mmm, you really do like to push for punishment, don't you?"

The strange woman shook her head, flicking her finger. The strap on her shoe came undone, and as she pointed off to the side, the shoe slid off her foot and laid itself against the wall. Before Waylon could question how, she brought her foot down right in his crotch again, this time with soft toes pressing against -

"Ah!"

He stiffened, his own toes curling in his shoes as she dragged her foot down along his shaft. It jumped up, throbbing unnaturally hard at the touch of her slightly-damp sole. She chuckled.

"Mmm. For all that bragging, Waylon, I'm surprised that you're already so stiff. Surely, my little foot hasn't gotten you that horny so quickly."

"Nnngh...what...what are you - Nnngh!"

He gritted his teeth as she curled her toes, trapping the head of his cock against the leather of his pants and the soft, damp touch of her toes. The little squeezes, the slow strokes, were just enough to keep him hard. Some kind of tingle was running down his cock, too, making it hard for him to think, and harder still for him to pull his head together and focus on what he was doing.

Goddamn...witch...

She brought her other foot up, and despite the fact that she was 'serving' him with her feet, he was the one that felt helpless. It wasn't the first time that he had gotten a footjob - there were enough sluts out there too well-fucked to be bothered to fuck again, and who were too drunk to trust a blowjob to, but still had their feet to work with - but this was something different. She was working him, teasing him, building him up until his cock was throbbing hard, oozing into his pants.

"Hmmm, hmmm. If this is all you have to offer, dear, I'm not sure why Carl suggested I give you a job."

"You...I can...ah...ah..."

"You can what? Paint your pants white? Any little male can do that."

"I can - Nnngh! Let me talk, dammit!"

"How about...no?"

She parted her toes slightly, running them down either side of his shaft, making him squirm and whimper in a way that he had never done. He was Waylon Quickfoot, goddammit, and this wasn't what - this wasn't how he used his bitches. He used them, they didn't use him!

Even as he tried to take control, however, there was something about her that kept him from doing anything more than trembling as he held his hands towards her ankles. She didn't pull them away, she didn't kick him. She just...touched him, grinding her soles against him, using her heels to gently rub his balls from time to time and give them that little bit of warning pressure.

It was more than sufficient to keep him in place, no matter how much he grumbled. She leaned forward.

"You see, Waylon, I am going to offer you a chance. And the more that you fight that chance, the worse that this is going to get for you. I am not a cruel woman. Really, I'm not. I just need a little...respect."

Her foot sped up, and he gasped, feeling the little tugs and strokes dragging the head of his cock along inside his pants. Each rub teased it, rubbing it against the textured inside of his pants.

"Nnngh..."

"A little respect, and a little...tribute..."

"I'll give ya...all you need...you fucking -"

"Language, little rat."

She pinched just under his cock head, and it was enough. He screamed as it set him off, leaving him spasming in his pants, his balls pulling up and his shaft dancing in the grip of her toes. He moaned under his breath, his pre-cum and then cum spurting against the leather. A giant dark spot formed through it, showing the stains, probably ruining his pants for good after she'd milked him like that.

His cheeks burned, wanting to hide as she pulled her feet back. She cocked her head to the side.

"Do we understand each other, Waylon?"

"Mmmph...you call the shots."

"That's right. I do."

"And I..."

"You do what you're told...with a little respect...and you'll get all the chances to give 'tribute' that you want."

"Hmmmph..."

"Carl finds it most agreeable. You will, too, soon enough."

"Heh...you think I'm as pathetic as him?"

"Honestly, so far you seem more pathetic. But that's something that I suppose you can't help."

"I told ya...I'm good with my mouth. You want some proof, b - Nnngh...You want some proof?"

"Hmm, so you can learn." She smiled. "In the future, you may call me Mistress Aludiana, or simply Mistress. Anything less will earn you a punishment. Do you understand me?"

"...Yes, Mistress."

"Good. Now..."

She stood up slowly, and as she did, he was reminded of just how much taller than him she was. Seated as he was, he was basically at crotch height for her, something that made the bulge down there that much more dangerous. Aludiana lifted her skirts, pulling them up and pinning them somehow -

"HOLY FUCK!"

And he had the chance to see what she'd been hiding. It was a monster of a cock, something that didn't even fit in the panties she was wearing. There were metal piercings running along the underside of it, too, emphasizing what it would do to a hole when someone got fucked by it. The panties themselves were barely holding together, rips and tears showing where the shaft pressed against them.

Then Aludiana turned around, showing off her other side. Ass cheeks that were as bountiful as her cock continued to eat the panties, pulling them between them and pressing them into a tight wad between the cheeks. Once more, he caught felt a tingle, a shimmer in the air, and he realized what he was feeling: magic. He gulped at the sight of it, shaking his head in disbelief.

The daemonette - as he finally realized that was what she was - pulled at her panties, dragging them off to the side. Some sweat got squeezed from the cloth in the process, dripping down her hand, the thick scent hot and wet and...more than a little alluring, making his cock stiffen in his pants again.

"You're so good with your tongue, you said. Then let's see how it does worshiping your new mistress, shall we?"

Waylon stared at her. He was used to dirty sluts, he was used to whores, he was used to women that he could intimidate and then take control of for his pleasure. He had never, ever had someone that could stand up to him like this and use her ass, her holes against him. Anything made for penetration should have been a weakness that he could have used against this creature, but instead, she was using them against him.

And somehow, despite the fact that he was in a place he didn't want to be, despite the fact that he had been rendered some sort of bitch in less than a minute, despite the fact that she was swaying a sweaty ass that would probably reek at him...

He was hard.

He was really hard.

"Fine."

She sat on his face with no more than that, and he groaned as he was swallowed up by the fleshy ass cheeks. He groaned under his breath, feeling the heat of her musk already burning in his nose, strong enough to leave him hazy and hard. He groaned, trying to bring his hands up, to take control by at least gripping her hips, but his ability to move was minimal. All he could do was...was...

Lick.

He groaned at the first salty taste crossing his tongue, followed by that hint of bitter as it found her pucker, followed by more of the salty-sweat taste that coated the rest of her flesh. He groaned again as his tongue started licking again, and again, each time pushing up against her that much more...eagerly? Somehow, yes, he was getting more eager, more interested in what he was doing.

She gripped the back of his head, adjusting him slightly before pushing down on him all the more firmly. The back of his head hit the top of the chair, pinning him in place, and somehow, that pushed his cock forward that much more, making it throb, pulsing forward.

I'm Waylon Quickfoot. I'm...I'm...

Well, right at that moment, he was nothing but an ass-kisser. He groaned as he slobbered over her ass, licking from her taint back to her asshole and then over that. Every time, he debated whether he should push his tongue inside her, to give her insides a bit of a tease. Some of the bitches in his past had liked that, and some had tried to hit him. He punished them for that and got his fun later, but he doubted that he could do that with her.

He tested his luck, thrusting his tongue inside her. Clean, thankfully, and she groaned. There was a slight pat, pat, pat sound in the air, and he realized that she must have been jerking off to what he was doing.

"Yes, that's what you like, isn't it?" the daemonette whispered. "That's what you know you need."

"Mmmph?"

"Rats are dirty little things, aren't they?"

"Mmmph...nnngh..."

"Dirty little boys that like doing dirty little things."

She wiggled her ass, emphasizing just where his tongue was lodged, and he groaned as he felt his cheeks heating up again. Everything that he did, anything that might have given him a slight leg up on her, was being turned around to make him out to be the dirty little slut of the pair of them. He groaned, shivering as she pulled her cheeks apart, only to mash them against his face, smearing her sweat all around his cheeks.

All the while, he kept thrusting his tongue forward. Each thrust parted her hole a bit, making him feel like he was at least doing something to keep his reputation, something to keep himself on top. Not much, admittedly, but it was better than just being some sort of passive fuck back there.

She rolled her hips back, grinding her ass against his face, making him feel her curves, the softness of her ass, the soft slime of her sweat rubbing against his cheeks. Everything was that much more intense, and he shivered every time that she ground down against his nose, reminding him of where he was. That smell, that thick, heady, musky smell that rested between the cheeks, was somehow stronger than the taste.

And through it all, she kept stroking, teasing herself. His cock throbbed, begging for attention, but he refused to lower himself to reach down and jerk off to doing something like this. Maybe if it was...

Or if he...

He didn't know. His mind was going. Just as he was about to slip away, to fall into some sort of musky, needy haze, the daemonette stepped back. She turned around, leaving him almost falling off the chair, and she presented that cock to him.

He stared at it, seeing his reflection off one of the nearby piercings before she hefted it, holding the head to his mouth.

"Now that we're all warmed up..."

"You..."

"Let's see how well you can take it..."

He didn't even have a chance to ask her to take it slow. With this woman, there was no such thing as slow.

He was a mess when it was all over, coated in his sweat and hers, and his pants had been flooded. He swore, every time that Aludiana needed to cum, she made a point of making him stand up and pull his pants open, letting her shoot her load all over his cock and balls. The feeling of that slime down there was just...

He didn't know how to describe it, but it felt like it was doing something to him, marking him. And she didn't even seem tired after who knew how many hours of this.

The daemonette seemed clean, too, almost impossible considering what they did, but she didn't leave any marks on her dress as she pulled it back on. She smiled and hummed to herself, pulling at the little wrinkles until she was once more immaculate.

"What...what are you..."

"I'm going to meet Carl. He's been a dear, and he should be near the end of his match now. I can at least get filled in on it before he finishes, so I can listen properly."

"Nnngh...who cares..."

"You'll find that even a daemonette cares for those that serve her well. Oh, and as for you."

She flicked her hand. He half-expected to have something fly at him as punishment. It would have been par for the course. Instead, a wad of cash slapped him in the chest, falling down to his lap.

"What's -"

"Mmmm, call it an advance. You do have some skill, though there's room for improvement."

"...Why does that feel so dirty?"

"Because you are dirty, little rat."

He groaned as she walked out. As soon as she did, the purple feline stepped in, chuckling, half-naked and exposed from the waist up. She crossed her arms under her breasts.

"Welcome to the 'family', slut. Come on. I'll show you to your room."

The End

Summary: A rat takes employment under Aludiana, not expecting the sort of things that go on there.

Tags: M/solo, S/M, Domination, Daemonette, Demon, Footjob, Foot Fetish, Orgasm, Cum, Ass Worship, Blowjob, Sweat, Musk, Series, Rat, Cat,