Pleasure in Bizarre Places
Warning; Contains depictions of violence and rape, if you are of a sensitive disposition then you may want to turn away.
Moss sat in his usual booth at Domichira's Bar, a slender vixen on each side caressing his chest and abs, just waiting for him to see to their needs. The black cat loved this bar because he knew there was always some female desperate for attention, as was everyone else here. Domichira's was not your usual drinking hole where a few friends met for a few drinks. It was a place where you came if you wanted to fuck. A place where milk was served fresh from the breast and a cumshot-cocktail was just that. There were furs of all types here at all times. along one wall there were even chains and leash-hooks where masters could secure their loyal 'pets'. The second-floor rooms were available for hire should you not want to wait until you got home to do what you came here for and the third-floor held a managerie of various animals where punters with enough money could buy a few lust-filled hours. Of course, the music in the bar was always up too loud for the drinkers to be bothered by what was going on, except for in the 'voyeur lounge' where everything except the ceiling was soundproofed so that the music would not block out the screams of extasy and orgasm. Yes, Domichira's was a place where every pervert could feel at home.
Moss didn't pay much attention to the vixens. He knew that if you ignored them while they were fauning over you at the bar then they would do anything you wanted them to when you got them back home. He was just planning on having a few more drinks before going back to his shithole apartment and fucking them to within an inch of their lives. The busty feline waitress in a skimpy outfit sauntered seductively up to their table and dropped the next round of drinks off at their table and he took a deep mouthful.
"So, what are you doin' once you get off here?" he said carefully, trying to speak as clearly as he could.
She leaned in close and a seductive southern accent replied to his question, "Gettin' fucked hard and fast by my husband," she looked over to the barman, "why?"
His gaze followed hers and through the haze of alcohol he was able to make out a VERY sturdy looking bull pouring a drink behind the bar, staring intently back at him. Moss waved to the barman and glanced hopefully at the waitress before returning his gaze to the bull, who simply shook his head slowly with a 'try-it-and-die' look on his face. Moss shrugged as if to say 'well, I tried' and returned to the waitress, "No reason, just interested.' Giving a gentle smile.
Half a drink after the waitress had vanished a shadow dimmed his already blurred vision. He looked up to see a very muscular malamute with an equally stocky tiger on either side standing in front of the table. He looked each of them over as best he could with his bleary eyes. One of the tigers was carrying a little extra weight and the other had a scar running down the side of his face, pinning a missing eye closed. They all looked hyped up for action but Moss, in his drunken state, figured he would have no trouble taking them on should they decide to start a fight.
The malamute looked all three at the table over before speaking, "Hey, you feel like sharing there? We can get a room here if ya want. Got a tab, y'know?"
Moss smirked into his pint glass, "Sorry, I don't share."
The canine looked him square in the eye and said "I was talking to the foxes."
"... Vixens." corrected Moss, annoyed.
"C'mon Moss, let's just go." said one of the orange-furred beauties. Moss waved away their protests.
"Moss? That short for something?" It was the chubby tiger asking.
"Yeah," Moss gave him a scathing look, "Mosssssssssss." He drew the last syllable out into a long, threatening hiss.
"Well, 'Mosssssssssss'," The Malamute imitated him almost playfully, "They ain't vixens. Trust me, they're regulars here... had a bit of fun with them myself in the past."
Moss, without taking his eyes from the dog's, reached under the table and squeezed the crotch of the 'vixen' to his left causing 'her' to moan. Sure enough, his paw met with a bulge that was nothing to do with female anatomy. He quickly let go and stood up in disgust, knocking the table forward and stumbling slightly as he did so.
"Fuckin' fags!" he slurred VERY loudly, not the sort of thing advised in Domichira's Bar but he was too drunk to care. "The fuck you tryin' to pull!?" He grabbed them both by the arm and threw them away from the table where they landed heavily on the floor. Without hesitation the tigers went to aid them, lifting them to their feet and checking that they weren't hurt. Having been distracted by this Moss was brought back to the attention of the dog when a paw slammed into the table, knocking over what was left of the drinks. The gray-furred canine now looked extremely pissed at him.
"This is a place where you should be careful what you say like that, kitty. Don't want to piss off the wrong person, y'know?"
Moss leaned in to come face to face with him, "And some frickin faggot like you gonna make me?" he already knew he was getting into dangerous territory and his claws were already surrepticiosly drawn but he just couldn't stop the words from coming out of his mouth. The dog began to growl and Moss was just preparing to strike when an extremely large hoof fell on his shoulder and began dragging him towards the door.
"Ok buddy, get goin' home now and think a little more carefully next time you come here." said the barman as he threw Moss out into the street.
"You think I needed them for a good time!?" he shouted at the closing door. "I can find it... any... anywhere." Through his slurring it dawned on him that the best possible outcome of events had probably just happened and he turned to begin walking home. In his drunken state he failed to notice the door opening once again behind him and three burly figures stepped out into the night.
"The hell do I live?" Moss said to himself as he stepped into another alley he failed to recognise. "I'm in the shit now. Gonna jus' sleep here for the night."
He was about to drop to the floor and hope it didn't rain when he felt something very large and sturdy wrap around his neck. Before he could react something else grabbed and held on to each of his arms, pinning him in place.
"Shoulda been more careful, Mosssssssssss." A sobering effect struck like a freight-train and adrenaline flooded his system as he recognised the voice of the Malamute he'd angered at the bar. "Some folk don't like the thigs you said about them. Gonna hafta make you 'feel' things from the other side of the argument, y'know?"
Moss began desperately trying to struggle but a strong fist burst into his gut and stopped his attempts dead. Winded and terrified, he suddenly found himself moving again, rapidly forwards whilst simultaneously being turned around. His muzzle connected with the wall he had been aimed at and a spurt of blood fom his nose left a sticky red residue there. He winced as he felt a rib crack upon impact. Without leaving him time to recoil from the connection he found himself pinned in place and unable to move by the two tigers.
'This is it, he thought, terrified, 'this is how I die.' he closed his eyes and clenched his teeth, trying to come to terms with the thought of death in the time it usually takes to blink. He felt his muscles turn to water as he thought about it and his jeans began to darken as his body tried to make itself lighter for running by emptying his bladder.
"Oh look," came the growl of the dog, enjoying every second of these events, "You've pissed your pants... we'll just have to get you out of those won't we.
It was then that the full magnitude of what was about to happen hit him. They weren't just going to kill him for what he had done, they were going to rape him first. He didn't have much time for this thought as his jeans were wrenched from him, pulled with such force that the buttons flew off and the waistband ripped clean in half, crushing his waist with the force. He didn't know who had done this but the sheer energy of it told him they were eager to 'have their turn' with him. As usual he hadn't been wearing boxers today leaving his tailhole clearly on view to all and his balls were hanging down in front like a prisoner hanging from the gallows. He felt someone cup them and squeeze, not hurting him severely enough to cry out but just enough to renew his attempts to escape. It was futile though as the hand holding his testicles quickly became a tight fist, this time bringing a screaching squeal. a few seconds later another fist came violently impacting with the back of his head, crashing his muzzle into the wall once again and restarting the flow of blood.
He heard a zipper go and, realising that the two tigers were still holding him, knew that the malamute was getting ready for what he had intended to do all along.
"If you..." the first words were just a spatter of blood and he spat to clear his mouth before trying once again, "If you're going to kill me then just do it... Don't drag it out like this."
"Kill you?" There was a frightening laugh from all three of his tormentors. "I'm not going to kill you... you might wish I would at some point but I'm not going to."
Moss didn't know whether to find comfort or fear in this statement. His train of thought was once again broken before he could decide.
"He's a very violent lover." Said one of the tigers, who had leaned in close to Moss' ear. Moss turned his head to face him and spotted even more scars than he'd noticed at the bar. He spun his head the other way when the other tiger spoke close to his other ear.
"How'd you think I lost this eye?" There was a grin on his face that showed he was taking extreme pleasure from both the situation and the explanation. He was trying to absorb the information when a large, powerful hand grabbed around his neck, restricting his breathing.
"And now, we begin." The malamute pressed his body close to Moss's, each feeling the warmth of the other spreading between them. Moss felt the tip of something moist touch his tailhole, the wet point smearing a trail of pre around the edges of the sensitive muscle. Without warning the entire throbbing organ was thrust in up to the growing knot causing Moss to emit a high pitched feline yowl of agony as his virgin hole was stretched beyond anything he would have thought possible. The rapist brought his paws up and gripped tightly onto Moss' shoulders, digging claws in so deep that blood began to seep from the fresh woulds they caused. He drew out of the warm, dark hole, allowing moss some modicum of relief but this would not last as he thrust back in again, simultaneously pulling back on his shoulders causing the flesh to tear into long, jagged wounds. Moss felt the knot pressing against him once again and dreaded knowing that it would, at some point soon, be inserted violently into him, stretching his already sore hole to its very limits. He felt claws digging into his chest, just below his pectorals, as the dog drew back again. When he was almost out he bit hard into the neck in front of him, mocking his toy by immitating the moves of a mating cat. Moss tried to brace himself for what was coming but there was no way he could have. One small mercy was that the entry was now becoming lubricated with pre as the dog forced back in once again. This blessing was more than 'compensated for', however, as the claws raked across his flesh once again, one of them even tearing clean through his right nipple. Tears began to roll down his cheeks as he was thrust into repeatedly as more and more tears were placed upon his flesh.
Part way through the procedings the malamute reached down to the now erect member of one of the tigers and began rubbing frantically. It wasn't long before the feline emitted a gutteral growl and spurted his load of semen into the dog's waiting paw. A large load, too, as some passed over the full cupped paw and spattered down Moss' leg. The feeling of another male's fluid there made him want to gag but there was another feeling there too, one that was far more frightening to him than just the feeling of it being there. Before he could dwell on it he found the malamute's hand up by his blood encrusted muzzle.
"lick it." He growled through Moss' neck fur. The odour of it was overpowering and Moss clenched his lips tightly together and tried to turn away. It was a futile attempt at rebellion against the events as tiger claws twisted into the black hair on the back of his head and violently turned it to face directly at the cum-filled paw. He tried in vain to resist as his head was pushed towards the white puddle. It wasn't long before his muzzle was pressed into it and some of the fluid found it's way into his nostril as he tried to breath. Refexively he wanted to gag but he wasn't about to give them that satisftaction.
"Drink it all!" Came the muffled voice again.
Tentatively, terrified of the consequences if he didn't, he stuck his sandpaper tongue out into the gooey mass. The taste and texture were something akin to sugar and salt mixed with the remnants of a terrible cold. This combined with just knowing what it was and where it came from forced a dry-heave from his throat. All three of the assailants laughed at this sight, a deep satisfied growling mixed in with the dog's. He once again felt claws resting against his stomach and tried to brace himself for what was to come. He yowled again as the claws tore into his skin but it was a cry quickly silenced by the malamute's cum-soaked paw covering his mouth, pouring the contents down into his muzzle. His stomach began convulsing, his body desperately trying to escape this foreign substance being forced into him. Barely recognised, barely felt, was a twinge in his lower belly.
The malamute reached the edge of withdrawal and began pressing slowly and steadily into Moss' hole. Moss felt the knot, swollen and impossibly large (as far as his 'virginity' was concerned) pressed against him but this time the dog didn't stop. Moss screamed in agony as the lump of flesh pressed steadily into him until it slid in with a 'shlurp'. His hole tightened around the knot, trying to seek relief from the pounding it was taking, just trying to close up, even if just a little. This pressure around the base of his meat seemed to give the rapist great pleasure, spurring him on into short but powerful thrusts. Deep down, through all of his revulsion, Moss felt a stirring in his loins as a small pink tip poked from the end of his sheath. He could feel it and it terrified him more than anything else that was going on. His mind flashed back to something he had seen on the internet many years ago. A propeganda article on the geurilla tactics of rebel groups in the northern territories. The words flashed before him as certainly as if he was staring at his screen;
"If members of the armed forces are captured by rebels they can be subject to any number of torturous atrocities. Sleep deprivation, sensory deprivation, physical and mental torture." Here the words faded slightly and his mind scanned on to the bit it was trying to find. Moss, at this point, didn't seem to care that his mind had taken him far from what was going on, to any point that it felt might be safety. He found the bit he was looking for and the words cleared again; "It is not unusual for male members of the forces may also find themselves being raped by male rebels. This acts as a two-way torture, firstly is the physical pain and humiliation of being raped. The second is to make them question their own sexuality. This is because any male raped by another male is very likely to become erect and even reach orgasm. Forces members must rest assured that this does not mean they are gay. It is simply the body reacting to stimuli out of its control." That's stupid, he thought, how can you cum if you aren't turned on by it!?
Suddenly, horrifyingly, his mind screamed back to the events currently unfolding and he was painfully aware of what was happening once again. He saw one of the tigers grinning and licking his lips. Everything seemed to be passing in slow motion as he looked at the other tiger and saw his lips moving but heard no words. It was then that moss realised that he could hear nothing around him. He was aware of something inside him... not just the raging, thrusting meat... something else, a feeling, kind of a warmth from within. He looked down and was horrified to see his now fully erect member rubbing against the wall he was pressed against with each thrust. He became aware of the pressure leaving his neck as the malamute lifted his head. The deep grunting growl began to reach his ears and suddenly everything returned, sound, speed... and pleasure as he howled along with the dog, the warmth inside him growing. He felt a different warmth begin to fill him as shot after shot of doggy semen burst into him, filling his passage and oozing out past the throbbing knot. Every muscle in his body taughtened as he flexed his back as far as his captors would allow. He felt a familiar feeling under unfamiliar circumstances as he began to paint the wall with his own juices. The rapist pressed against him in his orgasm, pressing him into the sticky mess on the wall, making his pleasure even more terrifying and intense. He screamed once again with agony as the knot was pulled violently from him. Even this, though, caused him to spurt a few more gobs of semen onto himself and he was dropped to the floor, panting. Without a word, his captors were gone and he lay there, huddled in a ball of fear and ecstasy. So many thoughts span through his head... How could you cum if you don't enjoy it? Does cumming at this make you gay? Why was it so good if he wasn't gay? Thoughts that eventually trailed of into sleep, right there in the alley.
Several days had passed and Moss was sat back at Domichira's in his usual booth, two vixens rubbing at his chest and abs. He looked impatient yet nervous, waiting for something that he wasn't really sure he wanted. His ears perked up when the doors opened and a sturdy-looking figure walked in, a malamute that he'd seen once before. He stood up, leaving the vixens looking confused. He walked behind the dog, now stood at the bar waiting for the attention of the barbull, and slashed his claws along his back. The assailed fur recoiled with surprise and blood began to seep from the deep scratches, colouring the fur a deep red. The victim turned around slowly and grinned slyly when as he recognised his latest "conquest". Quick as lightning he threw out a hand and grabbed Moss around the neck, lifting him from the floor. Moss kicked his feet and clawed at the arm on him but the dog saw something strange... Moss was grinning. He grabbed Moss by the crotch and squeezed. The firmness in his hand told him all that he needed no know.
I don't give a fuck if I'm gay or not, he thought, all I know is if something feels that good I want to keep doing it.
"You fuckin' faggot!" was all he said.
The bull came over to them holding a key. "Usual room, Apex?"
Grinning silently, Apex took the key. He drew back his arm so that the two were face to face. "I'm gonna make you bleed for that, kitty."
"Bite me you faggot." His grin broadened and his eyes narrowed. "Bite me HARD!" he hissed.
The larger figure thrust his arm away and let go of the contents. The cat flew across the room and smashed through a door. Not many minutes later, if you had been in the voyeur lounge of Domichira's bar you would have heard the very loud screams, yells and yowls of extreme pain and even more extreme pleasure.