FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Warning: 18+ Naughty Stuff

The young prince Artimus heard the cheers of his father's people as he dryly pressed his lips to his arranged bride's. Very quickly, he pulled away, the young royal presenting his new wife to the crowd. The young lion, barely in his pride, his dirty blond mane not even touching his shoulders yet, showed very little joy as he stood holding that twit of a girl's paw at the altar. He gazed over at the fellow feline. She seemed so pristine, pampered, with her bright golden fur and her curly blond hair. It made him utterly sick. She looked like a fool in that overdone violet dress. Desperately, the prince wished he could skip the rest of the day, skip there visit next day to the royal lodge far from his kingdom where he would have to endure even more time with her. At least in the castle he could tell her to shove off while he did his daily duties...

In the dining hall, as Artimus sat next to his father, King Hadillus, a brute looking king with a massive form and scarred face and a thick, lightly done brown mane, his wife constantly squeezed at his paw, speaking into his ear to tell him how happy and overjoyed she was to be married to him. He could tell by her tone that it was all an act; she was faking. His level of tolerance he had for her irritating voice and words were failing him quickly. Then, his father, the king, turned to almost growl at him, "You're wife is speaking to you!"

Keeping his eyes forward and a blank face, Artimus spoke to his father ignorantly for the first time, "She hasn't stopped yet..."

Normally a royal man would escort his new wife to his bed chamber, her paw tucked happily beneath his arm. But as for prince Artimus, he walked as though he were walking to a war meeting, his arms at his side, his wife trailing pitifully behind him. When he reached his chamber entrance in the middle of the Hall of Princes, he grasped the large double doors and spoke to his guards, "I do not wish to be disturbed...by anyone." Then looking to his new bride, "And I bid you a good night, princess Marrada."

She gasped at him stupidly, like a twit fool, "But my lord, are we not to sleep together on our first night as husband and wife?"

Very bluntly and with a blank face he said, "No..." Bringing the doors together, they locked with a loud click, only able to be unlocked from within or by a very special key that very few guards carried.

When he turned away from the door, the prince gave a loud sigh, relieved that some things would remain unchanged. His room had been tidied up, the stacks of double lined feral furs on his bed had been positioned right, and his sleeping clothes had been laid out on the hook near his bed. Artimus' glum gaze did not change as he glanced at the figure responsible for it all, lying in the wooden bed on the right side of the room.

Mason...such a strange name, he thought...was his Left Paw. The son of a good friend of King Hadillus, Mason was assigned to Artimus to serve the prince in any way need be. Whether it be to tend to his weapons and armor, wash his room and clothes, or cater to any wounds. Even the wooden bed in the prince's room served a purpose. If need be, Mason was to give his life if anyone were to threaten the prince as he slept. Hence the term Left Paw. He was always there, ready to serve.

Seeming somewhat irritated, Artimus wandered over to the bed and gave one of its legs a kick with the side of his boot, "Get up you lazy dog!" The fit looking dog with short, thin, chocolate brown and caramel colored fur and pointy ears opened his eyes. Apparently he wasn't sleeping at all. Even though immediate obedience was expected of him, Mason slowly stepped out of bed, his rough looking black leather shoes touching the stone floor.

"Apologies sire..."

As the prince undressed, exposing his trained, athletic body, Mason turned his head to stare at something else...for more than the usual reason. When Artimus turned his head to see the heavy look on Mason's face, he handed him his wedding garments, "Here..."

The Left Paw fondled the material with his worked, padded fingertips behind the prince's back, "What would you like me to do with your wedding wardrobe now that you are married?"

Artimus froze, his famously known physique turning almost stone solid as if Mason's words stung him. Waving his paw towards the window, he said flatly, "Give them to some unfortunate beggar. I'm sure they'll appreciate it more than I did..."

"Yes, sire." Staring at the small, valuable gems upon the garment, the dog wondered if that unfortunate beggar would mind splitting them with him.

The prince leaned against the thick, bronze posts of his bed, chuckling irritably as he fondled his clean night clothes in his paw. He almost missed the witty remarks of his Left Paw which the dog had bombarded him with before the times that he was married. Sensing the distress in the prince's voice, Mason wanted to step forward and place his paw on the lion's shoulder, but he refrained from doing so. "My lord, are you alright?"

Artimus pushed Mason away when he came near, still leaning his head into his arm on the post. When he turned to gaze upon the dog, he seemed irritated, "Go, tend to yourself Mason, you're filthy!" The prince motioned towards the patches of dust upon the caramel fur on the dog's cheeks behind his muzzle.

Mason seemed taken back. But in respect of the prince, he lightly bowed his head, "As you say sire..."

But as Mason turned to find his way to the servant's bathing quarters, the prince spoke again, "And you stink of yourself!"

The Left Paw stood there, his head lowered as if the prince were putting him to shame, so he listened as he was trained to. Even as the prince approached him, he did not lift his head, "Forgive me..."

He was quickly cut short as Artimus took him by the paw. He was not sure what to do as the eccentric prince did something far more unusual than...well...usual. Artimus raised Mason's paw to his face and the prince ran his battle scar ridden fingertips along his Left Paw's work ridden pads as he observed the marks made by long times of servitude. "A servant's hands..."

Mason was utterly shocked as the prince pressed his maw to the dog's paw and parted his lips to kiss it, running his tongue along the work lines in his 'servant's hands'. He then felt the prince guiding him towards the bed, gasping when he was pinned down on the furs covering it. The Left Paw had been willing to give in to his love for his prince before, but this time... "Sire, I cannot...you have a wife..."

Artimus' face showed that his mind ached with confusion as he groped the patches of dust in Mason's fur with his paw. "She does not deserve me...!" He struggled to say what came next, stroking his paw down to Mason's chest which was exposed in his light, commoner clothes, "...as I do not deserve you." Grasping Mason's arms and rolling on the bed, he kissed the dog, deeply, passionately, running his paw through Mason's short brown, messy hair, just as Mason's resistance began to fade.

Mason's heart was riddled with guilt, but as his beloved prince pressed into him, and he could feel Artimus' heart pounding in his mighty feline chest, he yearned to feel the loving touch of his secret lover once again. He allowed himself to be pressed into the bed, feeling the furs of wild ferals brushing against his naked sheath as the prince removed his garments. The dog arched his back, gasping as Artimus fulfilled his secret desires, taking in the scents of Mason's sweat and other certain bodily odors before teasingly lapping between his arse cheeks. He grasped at the freshly white pillows as the prince lusciously probed and kissed at his trained hole as if he were kissing the dog's lips themselves.

But his prince was not a feral beast. Even as Mason could feel Artimus' saliva dripping from his hole, the prince turned him onto his back, grasping the back of his thighs before pressing them to his chest, passionately kissing him on the mouth as eagerly as he just did his waiting hole. Focused purely on the kiss and the serene blue eyes of his lover and prince, Mason only gave a meager gasping moan as the lion's barbed shaft pierced his insides before returning to the kiss, not wanting to sound loud enough as if he were a whore.

Yet his prince desired more from his Left Paw lover. Thrusting harshly into Mason's warm insides, he rocked the dog back and forth, feeling the barbs of his length brushing against the walls of his loyal servant and mate's hole as Mason moaned deeply in his ear. The thoughts of their first time drove him to move his hips faster, remembering the sounds the dog made the first time he had pierced his servant's inner ring, claiming the dog's virginity.

Despite his love for the dog, his thrusts were overbearing and controlling. He growled excitedly as he felt Mason's knotted shaft grinding between their abdomens, the dog's body writhing beneath him. Artimus restrained any grunts of desire, not wanting the dog to think he was some kind of personal harlot, but his lover.

After a long rhythm of thrusting, the two felt themselves growing close. Mason grasped onto his prince's shoulders, his heels digging into the lion's hips. Artimus sped up his thrusts, tucking his paws under Mason's arms, grasping tightly to the dog's shoulders. Bring maw to muzzle, they kissed passionately as either male moaned. Mason clenched his eyes, whimpering as his prince's length pulsed deep within his hole, feeling strand after strand of his lord's seed being pumped into his arse. His lower body had gone numb, and whether he had spilled his own seed or not, he freely moved with Artimus' motions, rolling over onto his belly, a bit of a struggle to breathe as the prince lay on top of him, lovingly lapping at the nape of his neck.

Soon after, as things began to calm, Mason lay there in the dark, the torches having burnt themselves out. The prince lay in heavy sleep behind him, snoring loudly. It did not bother the dog. With the furs and his mate's solid arms tightly wrapped around him, he savored the warm feeling of seed and his lord's pulsing length deep inside him, falling asleep to the rhythm of the lion's strained breathes.