FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

This story is a work of fiction. The characters depected are all eighteen years of age or older and are copyright Radical Gopher. This story may not be duplicated nor characters used without the express permission of the author. This story contains scenes of a graphic adult nature and should not be read by anyone under the age of eighteen.

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THE CELLAR

The handcuffs bit cruelly into Cimarron's wrists as they held her suspended by a chain from the ceiling. Stretching her legs, she could feel the hot, sandy floor brushing against her hoof tips. Her shoulders burned and her chest ached under the strain of holding her full weight. Her legs were held apart by a spreader bar and ankle cuffs that were locked just above her hooves. Her clothes had been taken, leaving her completely bare to the fur. The air in the room felt hot and stagnant. Sweat rolled down her body, stiffening her fur and plastering her reddish-gold mane to the top of her head and along the back of her neck. She didn't know how long she'd been here; hours, maybe even days. There was no light; no means of measuring the passage of time save for the seemingly regular visits of her 'keeper.'

She had been fed and watered at least three times so far, or was it four? It was getting hard to tell. Each time her keeper had carefully slipped a tube passed her gag, pushing it almost gently down her throat before pumping some kind of thick paste into her stomach. This was followed by a brief flow of water that quenched her thirst. The tube was carefully withdrawn and she was left alone in the dark

Cimarron tried thinking back to how she'd gotten here. Her last memories had been of a bar near the campus. It was Friday night and she'd been celebrating the end of mid-term exams with a couple of her friends. Then nothing. She never drank to excess and had never been drunk, let alone so plastered she couldn't remember things. Someone must have spiked her drink. It was the only possible explanation.

A slight breeze ruffled her fur as someone opened a door. A pair of heavy boots scrunched along the dry, sandy floor. There was still no light. Whoever it was must have been wearing a pair of night-vision goggles. He came up behind Cimarron. She heard the sound of shoveling and felt shifting of the sand beneath her hooves. Her keeper was cleaning up where she had been forced to void herself on the floor. She knew her keeper was a human male because of his scent. He pulled out a damp rag and quickly cleaned between her legs, much the same way one would clean up after a foal that needed changing. She could smell the faint trace of rubbing alcohol on the rag. It stung her nether regions slightly.

Her face flushed with humiliation. She tried yelling at him, hoping she could force him to respond, but the ball gag in her mouth and strap around her muzzle effectively muffled her efforts. She wanted to scream out... to tell him how much her arms and chest hurt... to ask him why she was there and vent her anger. Her efforts however were ignored. The human quickly finished his task, picked up his tools and left, closing the door firmly behind him.

Tears of frustration, of fear began soaking Cimarron's cheek and she sobbed. She was slowly coming to the realization that she might not leave this place alive. It was all so pointless. Why was she here? What did the human want from her? Why go to the effort of feeding and watering her, of cleaning up after her if he intended to let her hang from her wrists until she suffocated under her own weight. She'd learned enough in her pre-med studies to know that would be the inevitable result. Her chest muscles would tire from the strain and she wouldn't be able to draw in enough air to stay alive. Already they were feeling tight. How much longer could she last? Perhaps it would be a day... maybe two, certainly not more than that. Her muffled sobs continued in the darkness, fading finally as she fell into an exhausted sleep.

Time passed. The equine woke with a start. Her shoulders had become numb, but now her chest burned with the effort it took to breathe. Her ears swiveled as the sound of boots on sand reached them. A hand reached up, pressing itself against her back, ruffling the fur slightly. It held a cold piece of metal there for several seconds. She wanted to kick at him, but the spreader bar prevented that. The hand moved, pressing the cold metal against her back in several different places, pausing for several seconds at each. The hand then came around front and pressed the cold metal between her breasts. With a start she suddenly realized it was a stethoscope.

She tried yelling again, forcing out as much sound as she could between the strap and gag. Again the sound was muffled, but this time it was ended by a choking, strangled cough as her chest muscles rebelled. For nearly a minute, the mare tried to catch her breath as she coughed into her gag. Her nostrils flared in a desperate fight for air. A buzzing sound filled her head and Cimarron passed out.

When she woke, she found herself in a kneeling position. Her arms were bound behind her back. Her neck and torso were strapped tightly to a low platform or table. Her shoulders quivered as feeling was restored to them. They and her chest felt as if they were being assaulted by thousands of ants, each armed with a pin or needle. At least she could now breathe with some comfort. A small naked light bulb illuminated the center of the room, allowing her to finally examine her surroundings.

The room was perhaps twenty by twenty. The ceiling was at least twelve feet above her with about seven large beams crossing from left to right. From these beams hung an assortment of hooks, eyebolts and brackets. The far walls were constructed of cinderblock, painted black to preserve the dark interior. One wall was festooned with an assortment of locks, braces, straps, chains, bars, block and tackles, and ropes. Their purpose was all too sinister under present circumstances. Sand covered every square inch of floor. A shovel and several buckets lined yet another wall.

She tried moving her legs. The spreader bar was gone, but now she discovered they had been strapped to the short table legs, left spread wide so she could void herself with reasonable ease. Cimarron pulled at the straps, testing their strength. It was no use. She was as firmly tied as before.

A sound drew her attention once more, but as she turned the light above her was switched off, plunging her once more into blackness. Again, she heard boots approaching her from behind, but this time, they seemed different, almost hesitant. The noise stopped, then something brushed lightly against her rump. She shivered at the touch, shouting into the gag in protest to the unwanted attention. In response there was another brushing motion, this time moving up along one cheek to the base of her tail, which she flicked in anger.

Something, a hand perhaps, took firm hold of her tail and lifted it up and away. Cimarron felt something press gently against her tail hole, pushing its way in about half an inch. Surprised, she tried tightening her ass, hoping to prevent whatever it was from penetrating any further. She could feel the warm lubricant as it dripped against her fur. The figure behind her began rotating the butt plug slowly, gently sliding it deeper into the mare's flank.

Cimarron screamed her frustration as the object smoothly and inexorably moved deeper and deeper into her. It didn't hurt, not physically, but the intrusiveness of it caused her to weep once more. The butt plug stopped after penetrating about seven inches. She tried expelling it, forcing it out with her anal muscles only to find it was being held in place by a set of straps that wound around her thighs and waist. She heard a tiny click and the plug began vibrating. Cimarron involuntarily nickered as the sensations increased., then she screamed once more into the gag, fighting an overwhelming sense of guilt as her body betrayed her.

The vibrations continued, even as the human caressed and fondled the mare's hindquarters. Her body shivered as his hands move up and began massaging the base of her tail. She hated him, hated herself for feeling any pleasure at this most intimate of invasions. Cimarron stiffened suddenly as something pressed itself against the folds of her mound. She felt a hand massaging her passage, applying a warm, lubricant that smelled of vanilla and honey. Her mind rebelled. "No! No! NO! NO! NO!! NOOOOO!!!" But the only sounds that came forth were a series of frustrated grunts and muffled whimpers.

The hand was replaced by something else. The mare struggled against her bonds; trying to shift her body and somehow deny the human access to her most delicate, most personal of places. It was useless. Once more something penetrated her, pushing in against all resistance. Again, there was no pain. The mare had lost her virginity years before, during a brief high school romance. No, what hurt now was her lack of control, her helplessness.

Her body began responding again to the gentle thrusting in and out of her passage. "No... No... No... No... No... No!" Tears of shame flowed freely, even as she felt her body tremble in anticipation. This wasn't love it was rape! No matter how tenderly, how caringly the human thrust, she had been given no choice. She was a thing, to be used as he saw fit. She convulsed, her body bucking and shivering as she was wracked by first one, then a second orgasm. She felt the human speed up his motion, felt his sack as it bounced lightly against her sex. He shivered, then plunging in as deeply as possible. The mare felt his hot seed as it filled her. She cried, a muffled, whimpering moan passed through her throat and vibrated against the tabletop.

He pulled free of her. There was a lot of shuffling. The vibration of the butt plug stopped and it was withdrawn. Moments later she felt a soft, warm cloth being run up and down her hindquarters, cleaning her off. It slowly moved across her body, cleaning every spot it could reach, washing away the encrusted sweat stains and massaging every part of her body. Through it all she wept. The cloth moved up to her face, but was unsuccessful in washing away her tears. Finally the human stood, gathered his things and left, closing the door firmly behind him. Cimarron found herself once more alone in the dark.

A week passed, then two. The mare now measured time based on the twice daily feeding and watering she received. At least she thought it was twice a day. It might have been more frequent, or less, but two was an easy number to deal with. Every few days she'd find herself in a new position, always strapped down, always helpless. The human continued to rape her whenever the mood suited him. It was never violent, but it was determined.

Three weeks, and she was passed caring, passed feeling. She no longer cried when he raped her. She simply let her mind go somewhere else. Her body no longer belonged to her, so she didn't much care what he did with it. It was his. Every time he raped her, it would respond to him, not her.

Eventually, the human began to tire of her, to become bored. The rapes occurred less frequently and with less enthusiasm or care. He turned on the light and kept it on, no longer concerned with what she saw or didn't see. He removed her gag, but not even this could get the mare to respond to his attentions. She didn't scream, or weep, or curse. She simply lay there and let her mind drift off somewhere else.

One morning she came back to her mind to find herself standing, arms pinned behind her back, feet once more spread apart by a bar. This time however, they were planted firmly on the floor. A thick chain was wound around her neck and attached to an eyebolt above her head. He was finished with her. It was only a matter of time before her legs gave out and the chain strangled her. At least, she though, it would finally end.

The door at the far end of the room opened and he came in. His hair was thick and greasy black. He wore a dark beard streaked with lines of gray, and had eyes, black as midnight and dead as a shark's. Looking at him Cimarron almost felt pity. It would soon be over for her, but it would never end for him. His madness would always eat away at him. He'd never know peace, know love or comfort. She might soon die, but she had once lived. He had been dead from birth.

The human was carrying something slung across his back. He walked to a dim corner of the room and carefully deposited his bundle on the sand. Moving over to a nearby wall, he pulled down a chain and grabbed a stepladder. In moments he had the length of chain hanging from the ceiling. Going back to the corner, he dragged the bundle over to the chain. He took out a pair of handcuffs, looped the chain through them, and then used a padlock to hold them in place. Reaching into the bundle, he pulled out a pair of black furred hands that he locked into the cuffs.

He pulled on the other end of the chain, slowly raising the figure off the ground and into the air. Black fur gave way to red, then off-white along the inside of her throat and chest. A long, plush tail dangled unmoving from her shapely ass. Cimarron could immediately see it was a female Zorr. Her head lolled weakly against one arm. The equine noticed that one of her arms was bandaged. A rather large bloodstain had soaked through the white linen wrap. Grabbing a spreader bar, their captor quickly pulled her legs apart and locked them down as he had the mare's. He then removed her clothes, a piece at a time, using a large pair of garden shears to cut them away where needed. These he carelessly dumped into a large bucket. When he was done, he placed a ball gag in her mouth and bound her muzzle shut. Then he left without turning off the light or taking even a single glance toward the equine.

Time passed and Cimarron felt the muscles in her legs slowly tighten and cramp with exhaustion. She knew she could not last much longer. There was a soft, muffled groan and the vixen's eyes fluttered open. She looked around, her black hair spilling along the back of her neck as she examined the room. Her eyes met Cimarron's. To the mare's surprise, they held no fear, no confusion or hesitation; only concern for the dapple-gray equine and her current plight.

As she watched, the Zorr began scratching at the back of one hand with the claws of the other. She dug them deeply into fur and flesh until her fingers seemed to latch onto something. She pulled it slowly and carefully from the back of her hand. Cimarron's eyes widened in surprise. It was a lock pick! The vixen quickly went to work on her cuffs, opening first one, then the other in a matter of minutes. The equine's legs were trembling now from weakness, yet she forced herself to remain standing. Hope of rescue was the only thing keeping her alive. Her head began spinning from the effort.

Dropping to the ground, the Zorr rolled onto her back and repeated the miracle of the lock pick with the spreader bar. She tore the ball gag and strap from her muzzle and dashed over to Cimarron just as the girl's legs finally folded. Using her own body as a prop, she supported the heavier female even as she worked on the padlock that held the chain in place around her neck. In moments, the mare was freed.

She collapsed to the floor as the vixen began loosening the binding around her hands and arms. She looked up into the Zorr's eyes. "Who... are... you?" she croaked in a dry whisper.

The girl looked down at her and smiled. "Detective Sergeant Pepper Fields, sheriff's department. Are you Cimarron Beltzar?"

The mare nodded weakly.

"We've been looking for you for almost a month. You've got family and friends who are going to be very happy to see you." Pepper finished working on the straps then used her pick to unlock the ankle cuffs on the spreader bar. For the first time in weeks, her hands and feet were finally free. She stared at them in momentary disbelief. "Can you stand?" the detective asked.

Cimarron shook her head. "I can't feel my legs right now." She muttered.

The vixen nodded. "You rest then, leave everything to me and my partner."

"Partner?"

"Yes. He's tracking me through an implant I have. As soon as he can get back-up, he'll storm the place. "

The mare pointed to the bandage on the vixen's arm. "I hope that's not your implant."

The vixen looked down and smiled. "No," she replied, keeping her voice low. "It was a decoy for our friend upstairs. So many young women are using panic button implants these days that Saul and I figured we'd give him something to find. That way, he wouldn't look too hard for the real one."

"Clever," Cimarron muttered. "But how did you set it up that he'd bring you of all people down here."

There was a noise from somewhere beyond the door. Pepper looked across as the mare. "Can you crawl?" she whispered. The girl nodded. "Work your way over next to that wall and stay low."

Cimarron did as instructed. She watched as the vixen picked up the metal spreader bar and quickly stripped the cuffs off if it, leaving her a staff about three and a half feet long. She positioned herself next to the door. Pepper took up a fighting stance, ready to strike the first person that came through the door. Suddenly, the light went out, plunging the room into complete darkness.

"Shit!" the mare cursed under her breath. She listened, straining her ears. There was a soft creak as the door opened, followed by the sharp crack of metal against wood. Something landed in the sand with a loud grunt. This was followed by a feral growl and dull thud as two objects slammed together and began to roll around in the sand. Heavy boots scrabbled for purchase against the floor. Something large slammed into the wall followed by the sound of breaking glass, loud huffing and more growls. Something solid connected with flesh and there was a high-pitched scream of rage and pain. Cimarron couldn't tell whether it was male or female. More scrabbling in the sand followed, accompanied by a series of dull thuds and sharp cracks of flesh against flesh. Then everything went silent save for the sound of heavy breathing. There was a pause, then more scrabbling in the sand, punctuated by the ratcheting snap of a pair of handcuffs.

Icy fear tore through the equine as she silently prayed that everything was still all right. A hand brushed her shoulder and she screamed.

Pepper's voice cut through the silence. "Shhh! It's all right, everything's okay. You're safe... your safe."

Cimarron reached out and wrapped her arms desperately around the vixen, pulling her in and resting her head between the detective's soft breasts. She began crying, even as the Zorr wrapped her arms around the equine and stroked her hair.

The sound of heavy shoes on wooden stairs filled the room. The light snapped on and Cimarron blinked, desperately trying to focus. There in the doorway stood the largest human she's ever seen. He easily towered over most, if not all the male equines she knew.

"Pepper... PEPPER!"

"Over here!" she called out.

With an obviously relieved expression on his face walked over to the two women while a couple of uniformed deputies covered the human who lay handcuffed and bleeding on the floor. Taking off his massive coat, he wrapped it around the two of them. "You okay?"

"About time the cavalry arrived," the vixen gently chided. "Think you can call us a couple of ambulances."

The worried expression returned to the giant's face. "Ambulances?"

"Yeah," the vixen smiled grimly. "One for him, and one for us."

"Him, I can understand," the human replied, glancing at their former 'keeper,' But why you?"

"She needs to be checked out at the hospital," the vixen replied, nodding towards Cimarron. "And I think I may have cracked a couple of ribs."

The tall human nodded, took out his comm unit and called for two ambulances and a forensics team.

* * * *

The next several hours seemed to rush by as the equine was carefully examined by hospital staff and gave her statement to the giant human and a stenographer. The detective, whose name she learned was Saul Blackthorne, was courteous, polite, and yet thorough in his questioning. He allowed her to pause and rest when necessary and provided her with coffee and sandwiches. By the time she had finished her statements Sergeant Fields had joined them. As it turned out, her ribs where bruised, not cracked, and she was ready for release from the hospital.

"I don't know how I can ever thank you enough," Cimarron said. "You literally pulled me out of hell."

"You can thank us by living as full and rich a life as you can," the vixen replied. "I was just glad we found you when we did."

"You know," the mare replied, "you never did answer my question."

"Which question was that?" Pepper asked.

"How you managed to get the bastard to kidnap you?"

"It wasn't too difficult," the vixen explained. "You were his fifth victim and we knew from previous cases that he only killed his earlier captives after finding himself a new toy to play with."

"Our squad staked out several different locations where girls had disappeared and kept our eyes open."

The vixen looked up at him. "Oh come on, Saul, don't be modest. It was your idea."

"What was?" asked Cimarron.

"After examining the missing girls' apartments, Detective Blackthorne discovered they, and you, all used the same kind of herbal body wash."

"Huh? You examined my bathroom?" She looked over at the detective. His face was slightly flush with embarrassment.

"We check out everything," Pepper replied in defense of her partner. "It's part of what we do."

"I remembered reading in some journal that certain scents could, under the right circumstances, trigger a specific behavior pattern in psychotic individuals. Since Pepper had already agreed to act as bait, I just talked her into using the same kind of body wash you did."

"It was that simple?"

"Not quite," the Zorr replied. "It took us two weeks of late night stake-outs and three bottles of body wash before we finally crossed paths with your kidnapper. Turns out he worked as a fill-in bartender at several different locations."

"Which explains how I was drugged."

Pepper nodded. "Once I was on his radar it was only a matter of time before he made his move and led us to you."

"For which I will be forever grateful. You did a fantastic job," Cimarron responded. Her eyes dropped to her lap. "I only wish circumstances would have allowed you to find the bastard sooner."

Pepper reached across and gently took the mare's hand. "That makes three of us," she replied softly."

THE END