FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Disclaimer: This story contains adult content and should not be viewed by anyone under 18 without parental consent. And stuff. It's also my first yiffy story, so I'd love to hear what people think of it! =^^= ([email protected], in case the "email author" link doesn't work). If you haven't read the preceding parts of the series you may want to do so, so the story makes more sense. Enjoy!

ANIMAL - Part 3

Alara found herself in a dimly lit room, stone-walled and -floored. It looked like a basic dungeon - chains and poles hung everywhere and wove webs across the ceiling, the only light came from a few flaming torches, and here and there a worrying piece of "furnishing" loomed, usually with chains and cuffs attached. Not moving, she sniffed the air cautiously, her eyes darting from side to side. She could smell that other male in here somewhere.

He pounced without warning from behind. Before she knew what was happening, his heavy hands were wrapped around her slender waist, and she could feel his already stiffening member rubbing against her tail. She screamed and struggled wildly, flailing at him with legs, arms, claws and teeth. Only when she scored a deep set of scratch-marks down his feline face did he relinquish his hold on her, and with a last kick she was scampering away. He did not follow her, but only sat there laughing. The sound chilled her to the bone - in her experience, no one laughed after they got a faceful of claws.

The maned-wolf tried to keep to the shadows, slowing her pace to a nervous creep when she was sure she was not being followed. She could no longer hear the male laughing - in fact, there was utter silence apart from her breathing and the thudding of her heart. Her claws, when she moved, made clicking sounds on the stone, and she wished she was a feline. Her attacker was a handsome leopard, his muscular spotted form naked in the gloom.

She saw a heavy wooden table ahead of her, and with relief made her way under it, trying to make as little noise as possible. Feeling slightly more secure under its cover, she looked around her with wild eyes, ears constantly moving as she strained for a sign of the leopard. She could smell his strong, masculine scent nearby, but could not see him - was he invisible? Or was he just very good at hiding?

"Bad dog," a voice purred above her. In horror, she turned her gaze upwards, and saw a twitching feline tail-tip hanging over the edge of the table. Too late she turned to run again, and felt a strong hand seize her own fox-like brush, dragging her forcefully backwards. Pain lanced through her spine, and she realized that she was actually being lifted in the air by her tail, her front claws raking the ground uselessly. The male's other hand grabbed her ankle, lifting it high in the air so that her shoulders barely rested on the ground, and then snapping a manacle shut around it, securing her to a wooden beam. The other ankle followed; but with it came the rest of Alara, forcing her stomach muscles to curl up and lunging for the leopard, who had his hands full. This time she managed to bite him in the forearm, sinking her teeth into his taut muscle and feeling a grim satisfaction as he roared in pain and anger. Savagely he struck her in the face, twice, having just fastened her other ankle to the beam.

"Bad, bad dog," he growled, showing his teeth and unsheathing his claws. She was unaware of him even saying it, dazed and in pain for the second time that night, and worse than before. Blood was trickling into her eyes, but she could not tell whether it was his, hers or both. Taking advantage of her moment of weakness, he seized both her wrists and locked them to a ring in the floor, then reached over and began to turn a crank. The wooden beam creaked, shuddered, and began to rise.

Alara found that although her sight was clearing, she still felt horribly dizzy. She winced and shook her head slowly, and only then realized what the problem was - she was upside-down. She hung suspended by her ankles, stretched taut by her wrists, which were still anchored to the floor. Her long fur was hanging the wrong way up, and she was totally helpless. Was he going to kill her, already?

Upside-down, she saw the leopard grin maliciously at her; then he drew back his arm and flung it forward. She cried out at the sudden, stinging pain, and the loud crack - he had a whip. Again he struck her, across the stomach, but this time she clenched her teeth and did not make a noise, determined not to give him pleasure in the act. Another two swings, these flicking around to sting her back. Her hands clenched into fists, but she still did not make a sound. He chuckled and lashed her across her right breast, then her left, and again, and again. With a fifth stroke across her sensitive breasts, she could not longer restrain a cry, and tried to writhe out of the way. His tail swished past triumphantly, and he gave her another two strokes with the whip, one of each of her sides, making her flinch to one side then the other. Alara was now trying not to cry - tears were threatening because of the pain and the fear and the exposure, but she refused to give in. The leopard grinned wickedly, and stepped back a pace, drawing the whip back again and taking careful aim. There was a loud crack, and Alara gasped, the shock jolting her whole body. The last stroke had hit her directly in her exposed sex, and again she felt the terrible knowledge of being unable to protect herself. Twice more the cruel whip lashed down on that most sensitive of places, and on the third time the leopard was rewarded with a scream of pain. Tears streaked down the canine's forehead, and she gave no sign that she even felt the male's soft stroking of the long fur of her thigh. He smiled, and let his hands travel up her legs, reaching for the manacles around her ankles. He opened them both at once, so that she fell to the floor in a painful and undignified heap. She groaned, and curled up in a protective ball. He nudged her none too gently with his foot.

"What, no fight?" He said scornfully. She remained curled up, but beneath her arms she growled deep in her throat and pinned her ears back.

"How disappointing... pathetic bitch," he said with a sneer. She raised her head at this, lips curled in a teary snarl and mane raised. He made as if to kick her again, but she leaped backwards and snapped at his foot. Her wrists were still chained to the floor, so she could neither run away nor leap at him; but she intended to fight, no matter how difficult it would be. His eyes lit up, and he laughed and sprung lightly back, showing off his feline grace. She saw with disgust that his cock was fully erect, that this was turning him on.

"Fight me then," he said. "I am unarmed." She wanted to say that he was still being unfair because she was chained to the ground, but she was afraid her voice would crack with the lump in her throat from choked-back tears, and she didn't want to appear weak. So she only growled again, and shifted her legs to the right and left to get a feel for how far she could move. The leopard dropped into a fighting stance, pacing from side to side and watching her eagerly. Her fierce golden eyes stared into his beautiful green ones, her mane raised and his tail swishing back and forth.

Suddenly, he leaped forward and dealt her a heavy blow to the face with his paw. She reeled backwards, her head beginning to pound from the punishment it had been receiving lately. Panting through a snarl-grimace, she paused for a moment to get her breath and balance back; but the male was getting caught up in the heat of the violence, and darted in again, his sharp claws raking her back this time, using both hands. She cried out and arched her body upwards. The panther laughed and resumed his pacing, enjoying watching the maned-wolf struggle to remain standing - having her wrists bound together made it even more difficult for her to keep her balance, and the blood now dripping from her fur made the stone floor slippery. Just as it seemed she had regained her composure, he jumped forward again and gave her a powerful kick to the ribs. Too weak to let out more than a yelp, she went flying, pivoting around her chained wrists and landing heavily on her side. This time, she did not move. A smear of blood traced her path and spattered the leopard's fur.

Unable to contain his impatience any longer, the male sprung eagerly forward, landing in a crouch over her sprawled body. He roughly pushed her onto her back, and she groaned but had no more strength left to resist. He lowered himself so that he was kneeling just over her, and with a bestial brutality thrust his hard cock into her cunt. She gasped and snarled feebly, but she was pinned helplessly by his weight while her arms were stretched out above her head on the ground. The leopard growled deeply in satisfaction, withdrawing and then thrusting again, harder. It was a tight fit for his large member, but he enjoyed it. Alara moaned and squirmed beneath him, her movements only serving to pleasure him further. Again he drew his cock half-out, and then forced it in up to the hilt, making an animalistic guttural noise of delight. The maned-wolf cried out weakly, and he leaned forward and gripped her around the waist, pulling her weak body onto him so hard that she felt her pelvis grinding painfully against his. Again he drove his cock deep into her, and again, holding her waist so tightly that fresh blood was running from between his fingers where his claws dug into her flesh, impaling her upon his entire length with every stroke. His thrusts became faster and more brutal, more animal, humping her vigorously as she moaned beneath him, her whole body being rocked back and forth by his violent motion. She no longer struggled, and her eyes were closed; and although she did not will it, her writhing had become less desperate and more smoothly sexual. They were both panting, the breath harsh in the male's throat as he growled and huffed; and both were barely aware of what was happening now, each lost in a storm of wild emotions, instincts and a world where touch seemed to be the only sense.

With a deep roar, the leopard came, and Alara felt herself being pumped full of his fluids. She inhaled deeply with a small gasp, her chest heaving and her head thrown back, before he became still, panting after his fierce climax. She had not come yet, and to her deep shame a part of her desperately wanted to continue until she did.

They remained still for several seconds, and for a moment Alara thought that he was going to go at it again; but he withdrew from her dripping hole and rose a little unsteadily to his feet, so that he was standing over her. She opened her eyes and looked up at him, her body too limp to move a muscle. He looked back down at her, an expression of smug satisfaction on his feline features. He had won, she was utterly defeated, his expression said; and she knew it too. She hated him, she hated this place, and she hated herself for letting her shameful instincts take control when she was being violated. But most of all, she hated the fact that she had lost, that she could only stare back up at him, exposed and on her back in the traditional submissive position.

He grinned, and placed his foot delicately on her stomach, an age-old act of total dominance to go with her own pose.

"Good dog," he said.

Alara sat in her cage, gazing at the floor. She had been left lying in the dungeon for a while, then the bull had come to release her and lead her back down here. She had not fought him this time, trudging on all fours with her head and tail down. Her fur was stringy with blood, she smelt disgusting, and her head was pounding from all the bumps it had received lately.

The door opened, and the bull entered again, shoving a semi-conscious Dayne before him with the grabber. Alara pricked up her ears, glad to see a friendly face. The dog's face was far from attractive, however - he had a black eye, his mouth was encrusted with blood, and there were deep slashes down the side of his head and muzzle. He had been gone much longer than Alara had. Kazzius' cage had been empty when she arrived, and she had not seen him since.

Dayne was swung violently into his cage and the door slammed behind him, Alara wincing at the click of the lock. She had already come to hate that sound. She waited until the bull had left before moving over to the side and nosing the dog hybrid through the bars.

"Dayne?"

He did not answer, but looked away from her as if wanting to be left alone. His back was criss-crossed with whiplashes. She noticed he was sitting awkwardly, and knowing what she had endured could only guess what he had been through.

"Dayne," she said again, and nudged him harder. His shoulders began to shake, and he let his head slip down into his hands. A sob racked his wiry body, and Alara felt tears begin coursing down her own muzzle as the sight of him brought out her own emotions. Suddenly, acting on an impulse, she thrust both arms through the bars and hugged him. He turned and returned the gesture, the two of them holding each other tightly if awkwardly through the metal bars. Their tears mingled in each others' fur, and although they had only met that same day, their desperation and a shared suffering brought them closer together than Alara had ever felt with her mate - it was a sad and fearful friendship, not as deep or as secure as that which she had previously enjoyed; but in their situation, it was something to hold on to, and that was enough.

The rest of the night - for night it was, though they couldn't tell for lack of a window - passed uneventfully, and they dozed fitfully pressed up against the bars, still holding on to each other. Some time later the bull came back with the caracal, and shortly afterwards with Kazzius. The horse seemed much livelier than when Alara had first seen him, and he flashed her a wan smile as he was shoved into his cage. She did not speak, though, for the bull had not left - he was fiddling with something in the corner of the room.

"Don't worry," Kazzius said quietly to her. "He's just going to wash off all that filth - it's always done at dawn, that's how we know what time of day it is." Alara looked ruefully down at herself - indeed, she needed a wash. She had to rip her arm from around Dayne's shoulders, where blood, cum and tears had dried their fur together; it woke him from his doze with a yelp of pain, but she gave him a reassuring lick on the muzzle and he wagged his tail feebly. The bull was now stomping across the floor dragging a long, flexible pipe behind him, which connected to the wall. He passed by the first two cages, and stopped by the caracal, whose fur was in the worst state of any of them, despite being shorter. The bull twisted a nozzle, and a spray of water shot through the bars and quickly soaked the feline.

"What's the matter?" Dayne said, looking at Alara's face with amusement. "Haven't you ever seen a hose before?" She blushed beneath her fur - she hadn't seen anything like it before, but did not say so.

Twenty minutes later, the maned wolf was considerably cleaner and extremely cold. She and Dayne huddled together for warmth more than for comfort now, and she pitied Kazzius for having no-one to snuggle up to; however, his fur dried much quicker than theirs, being shorter. Too cold to sleep, she sat and shivered, thinking about the day's events and about what she was to do next.

"Kaz," Dayne said suddenly, "the brutes here like... like us to fight back, don't they?"

"I can see where you're going with this," the horse replied with a weary tone, "and I can tell you now it won't work - don't think I haven't already thought of it, as most likely have all the others before us. Simply refusing to fight back, submitting without any resistance like the common slaves, is not a good idea. What you won't do yourself, they have chemicals to make you do."

"They can drug you to make you fight?" Alara said in horror. The only drugs she had ever known of were the ones that knocked her unconscious.

"They can do more than that," Kazzius said wryly. "They can make you submissive, aggressive, bestial, smart, horny... pretty much anything. And will," he added, "if they think you need it. Believe me, it may not be pleasant resisting them, especially when you know it's exactly what they want - but at least your mind is still your own. When you stop offering what they want... that's when it gets really scary." She could tell that he was speaking from experience, and shuddered. Unpleasant scenes flashed through her mind, of what she might do under the influence of these potions, powerless to stop herself. There was a long silence as each of them sat with their own thoughts, and Alara gripped Dayne's hand for reassurance, feeling him squeeze back.

"Well, one thing's for sure - we're not staying here," she said firmly. Kazzius stared at her incredulously, as if she had just announced that she could fly.

"And I suppose you've got a plan to get us out then, hm?" he asked her sarcastically. She glared at him, but didn't know what to say - she didn't have any idea how they were going to escape. Dayne stepped in on her behalf.

"Maybe we don't have a plan yet, but without your help we never will. You've been around longer than we have - you'll know all the possibilities that could help us."

"There are none," the horse snapped irritably.

"Fine! I guess you'd rather stay here for the rest of your life then, until someone kills you from overly violent rape!" Alara shouted, tears coming unbidden to her eyes. "That sounds like fun, doesn't it? Much better than getting the hell out of here and leaving this place behind us for ever, oh yes!" She sat quivering with rage and frustration, staring into the opposite cage. There was a pause, the tension between them almost at breaking point.

Finally, the horse turned around to face them and sighed. "Fine, you're right - I guess our situation can't get any worse." He smiled, and Alara relaxed and returned it.

"So," Kazzius continued, becoming serious again, "possibilities. Well, the obvious one is all the times we're alone with that bull - he has the keys to all our cages, to most doors in the building in fact, and he is alone whenever he comes into this room or takes us somewhere. So if we could find a way to kill him or at least stun him, we'd have a fair chance of escape." They all sat in thoughtful silence for a few minutes, then he shrugged with a wry grin and said, "OK, so that's out until we miraculously think of a way to beat him. Another thing is -" But he suddenly fell silent as all three of them heard the unmistakable clomping of hooves towards the door.

"It's alright, it's only breakfast time," Kazzius said in a low voice. The bull entered carrying a bucket. He walked down one row of cages and back up the other side, sloshing a foul mess from the bucket into each cage as he passed. Alara leaped back to avoid being hit by it, and watched dismally as the bull left again, slamming the door behind him.

"So where's the breakfast?" She said. Kazzius laughed humorlessly.

"This is it," he said. "And it's all you'll get today, so don't waste it. Enjoy." He began to greedily suck up the slop. Alara and Dayne looked at each other, then down at the "food" in disgust. The maned-wolf sniffed it gingerly, but it was completely unidentifiable. Closing her eyes with revulsion, she licked at the mess. It tasted as bad as it looked... but she was starving hungry, and did not want to go another day without any food.

"At least it probably contains the water we need as well," Dayne said glumly. As if they had reached a silent consensus, they both lowered their heads and started to lap up the stuff. Alara knew that they must be desperate - they looked it, licking up an unnamed, disgusting mess from the floor, that most actual animals would leave well alone. But she no longer cared.