FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

He threw himself forward again, body arching out like a bow as the chains on his limbs pulled taut. A glance behind saw the diagonal cross looming larger than ever, and he dug his heels into the ground with a desperate grunt as the chains continued reeling him in.

The basilisk simply watched, a satisfied gleam in the reptile's red eyes as Marco strained to break free. He waited, until the raven felt his back meet the cold metal of the saltire... and then began to move, one casual, sauntering step after the other, while his captive's arms and legs were stretched out along the diagonal beams.

"A fighter," Jorungar remarked, as easily as passing a comment on the weather. "Good..." He reached for the dark green army cap, and lifted it from the raven's head with practically reverent care. "I like it when they struggle."

Marco responded with a wordless growl - cut off a moment later as the other man leaned in close, both hands grasping his beak to hold it open. "Shhh..."

"Aaaah... uunh..."

"You'll enjoy this. Just... relax..." Jorungar tilted his head to the side, and lips and beak came together, sealing over each other. The forked tongue darted inside the raven's mouth, probed, flickered back out; the snake's own mouth moved to shape a whistling, hissing sound. Marco felt a cloying taste on his tongue, spreading down his throat as he took in an unconscious breath. He froze then, feeling the strange sensation already halfway down to his chest.

The snake was already drawing back, one hand remaining to clamp his beak shut instead of holding it open. One finger, positioned over both his nostrils, kept the vapor from escaping.

"Just give it a moment." Without breaking eye contact, the basilisk trailed his free hand down, over the feathery throat and the buttoned collar of the raven's camo shirt. "Don't mind me. I think I'll take a closer look."

The bird's eyes narrowed. Another dark rumble escaped his chest.

Clawed fingers nonchalantly reached, and popped the top button of his shirt free. One slid in, dug into the flesh just below his collarbone, and dragged down none too gently until it reached the next button.

"NNNGH- !"

The snake's smile got wider. "Doesn't take much to get you screaming, does it?" He hooked his finger into the shirt and yanked down, and the button snapped free of its threads. There was a flash of light as cloth peeled further away from sweat-soaked feathers, revealing the two rectangular metal tags hanging against the raven's chest.

The tight grip left his beak, just as his lungs were beginning to ache with the held breath. Marco slumped down at once, gasping fresh air back in, forgetting everything but his need for a new lungful of oxygen, unheeding of the snake's face inches away from his own, exhaling another chorus of sibilant hisses. He'd filled and emptied his chest for at least a minute, before he began to realize the thick scent in the air - in his throat, in his lungs -

He tried to jerk upright and found himself reeling back, as a slow burn ignited in his throat and started spreading both ways. "What - what did you -"

"Something fun." Jorungar took hold of the raven's fatigue shirt, one hand to each half. "Something to help you get into this." Then he tugged, hard. Strings burst in rapid succession, and the rest of the buttons left his shirt, clattered to the ground.

A faint red tint crept its way across Marco's cheeks, embarrassment radiating through black feathers as he felt Jorungar's eyes scan his bared torso. He shut his eyes tight, pulling his thoughts away from the other's gaze, focusing instead on the heat now spreading past his hips and savagely willing it to stop, to recede and fade...

The drug-induced sensation reached lower still. His trousers began to feel tighter, particularly between his thighs.

"F-fuck you..." Cheeks flushing an even deeper shade, Marco renewed his fight with the chains - anything to distract himself from his own stirring erection. "Let me go."

He stiffened when the basilisk stepped in close again and pressed both palms into the firm muscles of his chest. "Tempting." The forked tongue darted out again, tasting the air and the scent of his forced arousal. "No."

A glare. A snarl. Marco braced his lower body against the cross and shoved, pushing his chest forward against Jorungar's chest in a bid to shove him away. "Get off me."

The basilisk didn't budge an inch. "I think you're complaining too much." He leaned forward, pitting his body weight against the raven's and slowly forcing his upper back to the saltire. "We should do something about that, hmm?" His right hand left Marco's chest and raised level with the bird's head, palm upward. Fingers curled in, he hissed another magical command - and they opened, matter taking form between them.

He hefted the black rubber sphere closer to the struggling raven's beak, letting the two straps dangle from his hand. "Open up."

Marco turned his head aside, putting more distance between his beak and the gag. "Fuck off," he growled through clenched teeth.

Five clawtips sank into the meat of his right pec. The ballgag was between his jaws before he had time to scream.

"MMMPH! HRRMPH!!"

"That's better." Jorungar reached around to lock the gag straps behind the raven's head. "You'll be good now, won't you?"

"Fmmph mmff!"

He chuckled. "That's what they all say."

He flexed his hand again, and scaled hide vanished beneath a layer of scarlet-streaked ebony plating. The conjured gauntlet ended in keen points at his fingers, wicked metal claws well suited to pierce cloth and flesh with ease.

Jorungar stepped a foot away and swung his armored hand back, taking careful aim. "Try not to struggle."

Razor-sharp claws gleamed in the sunlight. Air whistled, screaming apart as they swiped through it at defenseless prey.

Dark green cloth rasped as it tore wide open. The shirt sleeve gave way in the gauntlet's wake, baring the raven's toned arm from shoulder to wrist.

"ARRRRGH!"

"That wasn't so bad, was it?" The snake asked, leaning in again to inspect the newly exposed limb. Black feathers were missing in three furrows along the length of his bicep. Reddened flesh was barely visible in the three trenches, where skin had been clawed almost to breaking.

Slumped down, fighting to drag in air past the gag, Marco had no answer.

"Don't get me wrong." A twist of the hand, and the gauntlet melted out of existence. "You look good in your uniform..." The snake began to step back, carefully gauging the distance. "I just think you look better out of it."

The white flash of pain faded from his eyes, leaving a blurred reality that couldn't quite focus. Marco blinked. The basilisk was suddenly holding a knife.

The gleaming blade pressed up against his skin, rubbing the flat of the blade over his belly. The raven forced himself to back up again, sucking in his abdomen and crunching up the eight muscles over his stomach, trying to pull himself away from the knife. It simply pressed closer, still flat against his belly... circling, carressing...

Pleasure trailed up his spine in a reverse cascade of sparks, and his rebellious body gave a shuddering little thrill at the dangerous tease to his nerves.

"This is the tricky part." Jorungar gripped his naked bicep and held it tight. "Try not to move."

The short blade slithered higher up, zigzagging and stealing more warmth from his body. It stopped at the center of his chest, veered to the side and went higher. Chilled his left armpit, then caught under cloth. Passed his bicep, slitting a neat line through his remaining sleeve...

The remnants of his shirt fell to the ground in scraps.

He closed his eyes tight and tried not to think about it. Pleasure seized the chance, sounded out louder in his mind, its whispers rising to a deafening crescendo as he saw the knife move in his mind's eye, slipping between flesh and cloth, systematically slicing through the camo-patterned layer to reveal inch after inch of what lay beneath...

Outside his imagination, the blade moved smoothly on a return trip. It circled his navel, traced the edges of his hip, and slid in and down to slice away his trousers. Gravity did the rest, dragging loose fabric away, leaving cold air to tickle between his thighs.

He felt the toothy smile radiate smug amusement from the other side of his eyelids. "Looks like someone's enjoying himself..."

He didn't open his eyes. He didn't look down. He wouldn't. He refused to. But he was completely aware of his own erection, now straining furiously at the confines of his white jockstrap.

It was that drugged vapor he'd been dosed on. It had to be.

He stiffened in more than one sense of the word when he felt a finger hook around the waistband of his jockstrap from the front and drag it away. The finger unhooked. Elastic snapped back against his adonis belt and he grunted in shock.

"You know you like this." Pull, again. Snap, again.

Marco gave a resolute shake of his head, finally remembering he had limbs to struggle with. His fists clenched around the chains and he yanked at them again, ignoring the reawakened sting in his right arm. "Lephh mmmph grrrf." His legs kicked forward, then scissored in and out, only able to move half an inch in any direction; chains rattled, and Jorungar paused, one hand gripping the waistband for a third pull as he watched the raven's body move.

The burst of adrenalin started to wilt, its death accelerated by the basilisk's intense scrutiny and his unwavering smirk. It revived as he leaned in, tongue slithering out to brush the raven's cheek, which made Marco fight with renewed vigor.

Jorungar spoke. "I didn't know you were such a good dancer."

All thoughts of trying to break free vanished in an instant.

"That was a compliment." He started to pull again, stretching the jockstrap away. The waistband stretched further, grew tighter where it still bit into the bird's flesh. Marco pulled back, keeping his body pressed against the saltire as the pull sought to bend his hips forward, bracing himself for the inevitable snap-back...

Something snapped. The pressure vanished from his hips. A cold draft continued to tickle around his throbbing length as his boots became the only serviceable clothing still on his body.

He finally dared open his eyes, to see Jorungar toss the ruins of his jockstrap to the side and take a few steps back, carefully gauging the distance as he stepped out of his personal space. From several feet away, too far to possibly reach him, the basilisk wound up as if readying a punch -

The snake hissed. Dark smoke took shape in mid-swing, and an empty fist suddenly filled with the black handle of a whip. The other end of the whip parted the air again, coming to land on Marco's chest with a solid thwack. He twisted aside in a futile bid to turn with the blow, seconds too late. The next one stung his right bicep, then the whip lashed out to connect squarely with his left nipple.

"Mmmph!" He jerked down, only stopped from doubling over by the chains. The whip cracked yet again, right against his sternum, driving the air from his chest in a breathless wheeze and forcing his abdominal muscles into sharper relief as they tried to crunch up. A swift flurry of eight blows came next, leaving a bruise to form on each individual section of the eight-pack.

The basilisk sounded like he was speaking. Marco could barely make out the words. Through the fog of pain, he gradually came to the realization that the whip wasn't lashing his body anymore; that Jorungar was approaching once more, one hand extended and reaching for somewhere below his waistline.

Temptation drew his gaze down to his own body. To the big hand and the scaled fingers, already closing in to wrap around -

Dry. Warm. Sliding over the surface of his leaking manhood. Everything went hazy for a moment as the gentle contact fired a surge of pleasure up his spine. Marco's eyes lost focus, slid half-closed, and his balls tightened as his chest rumbled with a soft moan.

He hung from his restraints for three blissful seconds, eyes dazed and distant, limp in all but one place, as Jorungar gave his shaft a gentle squeeze.

Then reality snapped back into place like a plunge into freezing water. He caught himself in the middle of a second groan and straightened up, eyes refocusing to glare, mid-groan sharpening into a warning growl. He leaned forward and tightened his arms again, biceps and thighs flexing as he drew the chains tight, chest puffing out as he leaned forward, trying to put all his weight on his bonds.

The knowing smile that met his glower told the story of a battle already won.

A finger lifted, stroked unhurriedly along the underside of his beak. He jerked his head aside, and it followed, staying in contact with his beak to tickle at the nerve endings beneath the hard skin.

The hand around his shaft tightened for another squeeze. And tightened further, fingers gripping until the hold was almost painful, until he was nearly ready to give up and let out another groan...

"Shhh..." The snake's voice stopped it halfway up his throat. He felt the grip loosen, back into the comfort zone, then start to slide back and forth.

"Rrrrngh..."

"Shhhh..." Jorungar stroked him faster, adding a slight tug and squeeze at the head. Another hiss, and metal warped again...

He gasped at the sudden feel of cold metal beneath his tail. Arched out further, thrust his hips forward to escape the sensation, and the dildo simply extended further from the saltire to keep up.

"Mmmmph..." He didn't know if his latest moan was another sound of protest, or something else. The hand rubbing his shaft, gradually moving faster, suddenly felt much louder than the sound of his own flagging denial...

"Yes..." The thick, smooth metal piece pressed itself between his rear cheeks as the end of the word stretched into another serpentine hiss. "You want this. You know you want this." It reached his hole and pressed up against the opening, all the more insistent when his muscles reflexively tightened to deny it entry. "You need this..."

The toy trembled, and he trembled too as the ring of muscle started to relax...

He swallowed, as much as he could with his tongue pinned down by the gag, jaws forced open. A sliver of drool escaped the side of his beak and began to trickle down to his chest. Marco closed his eyes again. Desperately slammed a lid on his own conscious mind, on everything in him that was still screaming no in a hoarse mental whisper, and slowly leaned back...

The next noise to slip past the gag was almost a whimper as cold metal started to fill him.

"Easy does it..." It thrust deeper, slowly, carefully...

"Nnnnghff..."

Jorungar's tongue on his neck. The snake's hands leaving his lower body behind, going back up to toy with his chest. Clothed, tenting groin against naked shaft, and as he thrust back at the other muscled body he couldn't bother to wonder when this had happened...

"Good soldier..." Fangs nipped at his neck, doing no more than grazing the skin. "Good boy..." He thrust with more force as the hands crept along his dorsal muscles, feeling their way up and across the V shape.

The dildo pressed at something sensitive deep inside, forcing a drop of fluid out to the tip of his shaft. Sparks danced before his eyes. Pleasure exploded behind them, and they flashed open for a moment before sinking half-shut into bliss.

Jorungar spoke, and he could only nod along in dazed agreement.

"I knew you'd see it my way."