FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

She groaned lowly as she woke up, a pounding ache hanging from her head like a cinder block. Trying to shake off the pain, she opened her eyes cautiously. Something wasn't right; her heart started to beat a little faster as she took everything in. Kneeling in surprisingly comfortable divots on a horse-shoe shaped platform rather than her bedroom, her mind raced in neutral as she tried to piece together what had happened since last night. Pale florescent lighting came in through a barred and glassed window, sending long shadows across the room and making a striped pattern across her clothes. A blinking LED above the single metal door drew her attention to the fact that she was on camera, and she started to panic. Trying to jump to her feet was useless; a series of woven straps kept her calves bound tightly to the board holding her weight, and her wrists were bound even more tightly to a ring above her head. She convulsed against the restraints, and wasn't rewarded with so much as a creak. Tucking her tail tightly between her legs, she continued to wriggle despite herself, terrified.

All she could remember from last night was the annual "employee appreciation" dinner. Despite only having worked at the office for five weeks, she'd found an invitation when sorting the mail to "Ms. Natasha M. and Guest", and decided she had no better plans for the weekend. Held at some mid-range family diner, she'd rapidly gotten bored when she realised that management's idea of appreciating their employees was to tell them over and over again just how lucky they were to have a job. One glass of wine... that was all she'd had. This was no hangover, something had gone drastically wrong. What more could she remember? Her name, her address, work, everything down to the knee she banged in the restaurant bathroom. Everything was there. It was as if a switch had been thrown halfway through the party.

The arctic fox fell silent, her questions interrupted when she heard footsteps in the hallway. Heart beating like a kettledrum, she held her breath until the footsteps started to recede; then panicked, afraid that her best chance of freedom might be slipping away. She yelled then, making as much of a racket as she could, bound hand and foot. The footsteps didn't even change in pattern, and she was left in the semi-dark once again to worry.

She didn't have long to think, it was less than five minutes before the footsteps returned. To her surprise, there wasn't even a lock on the door; not even a doorknob. It just swung open, and she blinked as the light from the hallway hit her full on, silhouetting the short person who had opened it, as well as a small wheeled cart, like a tray for serving dinners on an airplane.

"Now that you're awake, we can get on with things. Do you want some water first?" The voice was male. Unfamiliar to her, and strangely polite given her situation. She'd expected some brute of a person struggling to link more than three words together at a time. She shook her head none the less, and the strange man moved towards her, letting the door shut. "You're probably assuming that you're here to be raped. I assure you, this is nothing so mundane as that. Or else, the other end of things, you may think we've gotten the wrong person. Well, even if we did - and rest assured, we didn't - you wouldn't be going anywhere. This is your life now, and..."

Tasha's face grew more and more horrified at this man's matter-of-fact recital; this was all routine to him. She missed the next few words as she began to yell again, calling for help in desperation. He leaned closer to her and she got her first good look at him as the light threw his face in sharp relief. 'A squirrel; I'm being kidnapped by a squirrel!' she thought wildly, trying to sink her teeth into his neck. No success; what she got instead was a mouthful of soft rubber and a firm grasp holding her teeth shut on it while a strap was wrapped around her muzzle and behind her neck. "Have you quite finished?" he asked, conversationally. Her cries muffled by the gag, she stared at him fearfully, and gulped, not answering.

He continued as if she had simply stopped for a sneeze; "This is your life, and the sooner you accept it the easier it will be on you. This is a facility where the upper class come to live out their fantasies; very discreetly. In some cases, we simply select our own... staff... and in some cases they're specifically selected by our clients and trained for specific things. I don't know which it was for you. You've never heard of this place, and you still won't, because it doesn't have a name. I've heard a few people call it Hell, and you'd best hope that you don't get demoted to the lower levels of it."

He opened the side door on the cart, and removed a purple collar, with a metal tag embossed on the front. He continued speaking as he fastened it around her neck, latching it in place with a small padlock. "Subjects here may be asked to do absolutely anything. We will generally match people to the things that they're best at or most responsive to, but the better behaved you are, the more privileges you will get... and bad behaviour will get you demoted. As of right now, you are classed as being level 5. Furs classed as levels 8 or 9 can never get higher than 8 ever again, level 10 is final. Above that, your behaviour is reviewed every 3 months the first year, every six months after, and if you're good, you can go all the way up to level 2. If you ever make it that high, level 1 furs are promoted only by decision of the Director alone. We run this place, and are even allowed to leave the grounds if we've been good." She started, not having considered that this wouldn't be the person making the decisions.

The squirrel straightened the cart out in front of her and unfolded a laptop, triggering a video of various furs. Male, female and other, of every species, age, and build. "These are higher-level subjects, levels 1, 2, and 3. As you can see, duties can range from so simple as serving drinks and dinners, through basic sex work." He hit the next button on the video player, and she felt like she was watching a perverse summary of the underside of the internet. "Mid-range, four through six - which includes you - will pick up most of the sex work, with some of the abuse, mostly spoken. You probably will not be surprised to find out just how many of the powerful people in the country truly enjoy making other people feel like shit. Levels seven through nine are the bottom rung. Bizzare fetishes, harder abuse, long term enslavement. We don't show a video for those levels. If you're determined ever make it that far, a simple video's not going to stop you." The squirrel hesitated for the first time in the presentation, looking back at her. " Level ten is eligible for anything; things that can genuinely hurt someone. We don't let them kill you on purpose, but... accidents happen at level 10 from time to time. Now that we've gotten that part of your introduction out of the way, the next part shouldn't surprise you." Natasha's eyes widened in horror, and she started to wriggle more in the restraints, grunting into the gag.

He picked up a pair of scissors, and cut away her blouse, putting the shards of it on top of the cart. Stripping furs before waking them would be easier, but like so many other carefully calculated things, taking their clothes away while they were scared helped to break them. He set the scissors aside and began to grope her breasts. He did his best not to enjoy it; keeping it as impersonal as a doctor's office, but knowing that the libido enhancers mixed into the drugs would make it seem so much more to her. His body betrayed just how well it knew the process though, his penis quickly bulging out inside his pants. He used expert fingers to trace over her nipples, running down her sides gently, then up again to run under her chin and stroking her cheeks. After almost half an hour, he finally leaned in to kiss at her neck and shoulder. She whimpered softly, eyes closing at his touch, and he nodded in satisfaction. Leaving her pants intact, he simply unbuttoned them and pulled them down around her thighs. He traced his fingers over the crotch of her panties before pulling them down, watching her tremble with arousal. Slipping one paw behind her, he took a hard grip on her rump, fingers kneading at it, and tucked the other under her crotch, just holding it there without moving it. She leaned into it, panting softly through her nose, and blushed brightly at her body's eagerness. His fingers slowly started to wriggle against her, making her tummy contract and arch as the feather-touches tormented her. He worked his fingers slowly across her body, moving them half an inch at a time and just wiggling them in position. Finally, the squirrel nodded again, stepping back just enough to slip his own pants off and kick them away, then came right up to her again, wrapping both his paws around her and pressing his body up tightly to hers.

Natasha became aware of the warm shaft tucked between her thighs, rubbing at the underside of her opening and slipping back and forth slowly as they both fought his bodies' urges. She tensed up again, trying to overcome the desperate arousal she felt. How long had it been since someone had touched her so delicately? Her mind flicked back, ignoring two unsatisfying experiments, and she guessed that no one even remotely good in bed had put a paw on her in almost three years. She struggled to calm herself despite the aching emptiness she felt; her breasts felt heavy now without the squirrel's paws on them. She shook her head insistently, whining again even as she felt her body betraying her, wriggling back against this total stranger. The squirrel drew his hips back slowly, letting the tip of his penis slide along her flesh until it rested at the exact right height to penetrate her. Keeping his arms wrapped around her midriff, he sighed happily and began to push forward slowly, his tip pushing open her folds and slipping in readily. After well over an hour of foreplay, she was as slippery as she'd ever been in her life, and she couldn't bring herself to clamp down enough to block his entry, so his full length soon found its home inside her vagina, and she twitched, hard, clenching her eyes tightly and fighting the urge to press back against the intruder.

The squirrel wasted no time at all, beginning to thrust faster almost at once. Natasha wriggled against him, trying feebly to escape while fighting her urges. Every few seconds, his hips bumped against hers, and she shivered just a little. She convulsed again and again, reflexively trying to gather up her captor in her limbs, slowly giving in to the wonderful feelings. The shaft inside her began to pulse with each thrust, and she knew he was getting close; the primal urge to milk him of his cum finally overcoming her reluctance. She pressed hard back against him, trying to angle herself so that she could reach her orgasm too; but then he shifted position, drawing his hands away and very carefully missing all her sweet spots with an accuracy that was too studied to be accidental. She whimpered loudly in his ear, wriggling like a fish out of water as she tried to change how he mated her, but with so little movement allowed her by the restraints she was helpless to move enough, and she almost cried as he stilled, his cock pulsing heat deep inside her. She wriggled back against him, grunting softly into the gag, and not even getting the mild pleasure of a hug. He stayed inside her for only a minute, pulling out while his last few twitches were oozing their way out. He tugged on her panties, wiping himself off diligently before pulling the sticky fabric back up to rub against her fur, then fastened her pants up tightly overtop. He didn't even dress, just put his pants on top of the cart and wheeled it out of the room.

Before the door closed, he turned stepped back inside, silhouetted again. "This room is where all the new recruits are held for the first few days. It's called the Barberpole, because it goes to whatever height that the user may desire, like so." He stepped on a foot-panel she hadn't seen at the base of the platform, and both platform and wrist loop dropped slowly with a hiss of escaped air. "There's a grate below you to make cleaning you easier. If anyone cleans you, that is. You'll be given food and water as you need them. And just so you know in advance... new recruits are open to any toys above level 7 that may want to use them, and that counts to their initial behaviour rating. Remember... you're being watched." Tasha lowered her eyes, humiliated, and saw that the squirrel's cum was seeping out to make a wet spot on her grey pants. She tucked her tail up, still so very aroused that she couldn't think of anything to say as the door sighed closed, leaving her alone in the dark.