FSE

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formerly SoFurry search engine

It was the usual routine, nothing too much out of the ordinary. Once again it was another night at Martin's favourite club, where the men were the brutish sort; the type to bloke smoke in your face after taking a huff of a cigar, guts muscled as they were bound tightly behind leather or rubber - whichever took their fancy - eyes dark and leering as they peered, eating up whatever prey had fallen suspect to their gaze. It was an addictive experience. Of course, there was always the other side of the spectrum that few truly considered; the quiet men, just boys really, who would meekly wander their way through the doors if they were fresh meat, unsure of the protocol or what they should expect. They were always snapped up first, like any weak victim of a pack, they were picked off by those quick enough to catch them in a corner with a façade of a friendly chap willing to ease them in gently. The only thing ended up being eased not-so-gently into them was perhaps a finger, a toy, most definitely a cock later down the line, and maybe even a paw if the predator was feeling particularly adventurous and cruel to those poor men's rears. They wouldn't sit right for weeks afterwards.

But if you weren't so new to the scene, if you knew what to expect and how to be treated, it was like walking into a home from home. Faces would become familiar, if still nameless, friendly smiles would still be just as lecherous as when you'd first laid eyes upon them, but there would be a glimmer of respect behind them, and the eyes were not so much hungry as they were dirty, knowing full well the sorts of nightmares and tortures they could put you through whilst all the while you moaned and screamed and begged for more. For Martin, it was beginning to slip into that stage. He'd graduated from a novice, a rank amateur stumbling in off the streets hoping to taken in kindly after blundering onto the truth about the club. He was nowhere near an expert, but he was well versed enough to be considered an apprentice of sorts, and the time for him to be running around with a free leash was quickly running out. Masters and owners were closing in hoping to get a firm enough grasp on him to mark him as their own, but it was a battle. Normally subs did not stick around long enough to get acquainted with the way of things. They'd get scared off after the first week or so once they learnt that the Event Horizon wasn't just for those with fetishes that needed sating, but rather it was for those of the lifestyle, for those committed to the natural hierarchy.

Martin had hoped it'd be an easy clean cut decision, that the ideal master would waltz right up to him and fulfil every dark desire he'd ever had, but of course it couldn't just be that simple. He'd been testing the waters with so many different men, all having their own perks and assets they could bring to the table. He felt crass trying to summarise them all up in who worked best for him, but he understood that he couldn't blindly sign himself over to one owner simply on a whim. He had to make sure which decision was right, but it was painstakingly difficult. If he was counting this right, tonight would be the sixteenth time this month he'd visited the club. Sometimes it hadn't even been with the intention to submit and serve, rather just to be in the company of those like him in the hopes it'd churn those sinister juices in his head, but every night always ended up the same way - in someone's dungeon, either there or back at their place, submitting as he always did to their 'charm'. Tonight may well as be one of those nights, as he kept an eye out from sidelong glances, looking for anyone who might approach him at the corner of the bar, sipping away at some girly cocktail he'd been surprised with.

What came as no surprise, however, was the lumbering form of one particular brute heading his way.

"You look mighty lonely there, pup," his voice was deep, harsh, like he'd smoked in his past, "Need some to keep you company?"

The mutt held back a smile as he lifted himself up off the bar, pulling his gaze away from the drink and towards his suitor for the evening,

"I might do, depends on what you're after."

Martin had to admit the dog, a Saint Bernard this time around - a rare breed in the city parts - fit the bill build wise for the kinds of guys that usually came his way, but this male in particular seemed different in some indescribable sense. The only indications that something was amiss, if they were indications at all, was the way the man carried himself, the way he spoke, and his nonchalant demeanour. It was as if he expected nothing from the mutt except a fair chance, rather than many who'd demanded that he spend the night with them. Instead of the typical saturation of leather gear or rubber suits, the man was dressed in a mere denim vest, left unbuttoned to show off his chest, though the mutt more suspected that it would no longer cover across his bulging gut. He was incredibly broad, thickly built so that every limb, his hips, his shoulders, it all gave him this barrelled, heavy appearance, as though every part of him was akin to a tank. The rest of him was accounted for by a leather cap that sat atop his head, much like many of the men who sat in the club today on what felt like a lazy night, and a leather jockstrap, the material bulging out obscenely by what could only be the dog's fat sheath and balls. Everything else was left bare, so that his arms and legs were on proud display like trunks, his gut poking between the denim folds, and the fluff of his coat puffing forward from his chest.

"Now what sort of attitude is that?" A chuckle tinged with both mirth and a little annoyance rumbled from the dog's chest. It was possible Martin's mood was causing him to forget his place. Regardless of whether he wanted it or not, he was wearing a collar after all, and a slave's natural position was beneath those who were not owned themselves. He was fortunate to be free enough to sit at the bar, otherwise he'd have been kicked to the floor and most likely held there by a vile boot, "I'm only trying to be friendly."

"You're right, sir, I'm sorry." The mutt corrected himself as best he could in the circumstances, "Would you like to sit down, and a drink perhaps?"

"I didn't come over looking for liquor, and the name's Vernon, but you can just call me Vern, boy." He gave a wry smile, "At least, for now, but we can work on that." He took a seat beside Martin, setting himself onto one of the bar stools. It wasn't luck that the thing didn't break from his weight - all the furniture had to be reinforced in the club so that the regular heavy set gentleman don't humiliate themselves by breaking a chair as they sit down. It did give a tremendous creak though, loud enough for the boy to hear it over the thumping music over by the catwalk and stage.

"Pleasure to meet you, Vern," He tested the sound of the name in his muzzle. It was fine, but it felt peculiar to refer to an older, larger man other than by his title or preferred designation. 'Sir' was usually the natural go-to, 'Master' for those who wanted it, and plenty of others such as 'Lord' or 'Alpha' for the odd few who came along that were into that.

"Oh I'm sure it will be," another wry chuckle, "You seem to be a little distracted, boy." Of course he wouldn't ask for the mutt's name. He may be allowing him the privilege of speaking as equals, but manners had to be maintained, slight as they were. He was, indeed, the boy to him, the sub, the slave, the cock sleeve...

"I'm just preoccupied with my own mind," he spoke honestly, but vaguely. He didn't want to give too much away. Some doms could be put off by the mere mention of a slave searching for a master but having not yet committed. It was like some bizarre disease, an experienced slave not yet with an owner and undecided on what to do. As if the meagre semblance of a sub having an independent choice on who they belonged to was something to be feared and avoided. "I'm... between jobs, shall we say?"

The Saint Bernard rose an eyebrow, his eyes sparkling beneath the leather cap,

"Ah..." Martin half-expected him to excuse himself, to leave as politely as possible, but the dog didn't move a muscle, "You're in that grim position where you're struggling with that choice which no slave need ought to make?" He nodded silently, their voices hushed, "Not to worry, your secret's safe. I ain't looking for a pet, mind, I'm just in it for the fun at the moment; only just got out of one commitment myself so I'm not keen on jumping right back in." A large paw was placed ever so carefully on the mutt's knee. It wasn't so bold as to feel like his fate had just been sealed, but it was a reminder of where things were going, that avoiding the inevitable couldn't go on forever. In a way, it was like a tender but strict order that they would fuck sooner or later, the only exception being this wouldn't carry with it any strings. It was to be a distraction, "Say, my place ain't far from here and I've got some more... specialist gear that you might like to try, what do you say, slave? You fancy some downright dirty and horrifically nasty sex to lighten your mood?"

It wasn't like he could say no.

He wasn't lying when he'd said it was close by. It was a refurbished set of apartments from this old warehouse - not as ritzy as some of the more upmarket places that were going for sale in the area, but it was close to that. Martin was actually amazed when they pulled up in the taxi. He didn't want to question how the canine could afford such a place for fear he'd insult his host, and by extension his master for the rest of the night. Before they left the taxi though, Vernon clipped on a leash to the mutt's collar, giving a gleeful smirk,

"I may not be after something serious, but I like the traditions."

They left the rather bemused cabbie who'd probably seen far more of this than he'd admit to drive off into the night leaving Martin to be led by the Saint Bernard across the street to his front door. Everything seemed so innocent and neat, nothing out of the ordinary to suggest the dog was a dominant pervert, but then again the most normal of faces could hide the shadiest secrets. The door was opened and together they entered the tastefully modern flat. Martin didn't get much of a chance to see the décor as he was briskly walked through to a second door on the far side of the room, only having a moment to take in the sight of the electric fireplace, the large couches that encapsulated a glass coffee table, a spiral staircase leading up to the first floor's balcony. But before he could register much else, they were already through the next door, entering into a far darker passage that was illuminated by harsh bulbs. A staircase led down to the bowels of the flat, faint smells of odours the mutt knew all too well drifting up from below; hints of leather, rubber, particular scents, that fresh smell of latex and rubber they made toys from. His work in pornos had let his nose develop to it all, though the club had also introduced him to some of the fouler, dirtier stenches that mingled with those more pleasant. The tell-tale staleness of cum, wafts of urine underlying that, a heady smell of lube covering it all, other aromas which continued to confuse him and leave him wondering swelled up behind initial breeze that came up from the basement. Martin could only assume he was about to descend down into Vernon's dungeon.

As he gingerly made his way down the steps, tugged along by his neck with the canine leading the way, the smells only continued to grow stronger and more potent until it was like an assault on his nose. All he could breathe seemed to be those rich, rank stenches that filled his lungs and overrode his sense of taste. It was almost suffocating, like the dog had purposefully let the room fester whilst he'd ventured out for a lay tonight just so he could watch them suffer as he dragged them down to their filthiest dreams.

When they finally reached the last steps, Martin was gradually beginning to take accustomed gasps of air, doing his best to adjust to its ripe concoction. He knew pretty well he'd be breathing much danker things soon enough, so for now he cherished the cleanest air he'd probably get all night - and most likely all next morning too.

Vern led him into the phenomenally designed dungeon, a vast array of furniture, gear, and toys all lined up on various racks, shelving units, trays and trolleys. The mutt spotted a evil looking contraption that appeared to be some sort of cross, with what looked like straps just ready to hold limbs firmly in place leaving the whole victim's body dangling in the air, and across from that was a rather crude looking rack, modernised from its ancient form with steel cranks and padded backing so that whoever was being stretched to their breaking point could do so without feeling cold metal scraping across their shoulder blades or hips. There was even more as the lights flickered on to reveal the deeper recesses, showing cages that were tucked even deeper back in the darkness alongside what appeared to be something akin to a bed, though formed from two rubbery looking sheaths with a tube trailing off to a pump that appeared to be more than just something you'd pick up from a tool store. It was heavy duty, which matched with everything else in the intimidating and huge expanse that wasn't so much just a dungeon but rather a torture chamber and prison together in one.

"Like what you see, slave?"

"Yes sir, very much so..." It was nothing quite like the club. Sure the Event Horizon had the atmosphere of a malicious dungeon where men were taken to sodomise or be sodomised, abused until their screams of pleasure and pain filled the air and took over from the music pumping through the walls. It had that grungy feel, where it felt freshly used and still seasoned with the floods of male fluids. But Vernon's playroom was something more clinical, more controlled and more concise, as if nothing would go to waste, every second spared, not a single respite ever given to those fortunate enough to make it this far.

"Why don't you lose the clothes then, boy? Let's see what I'm working with."

The mutt hadn't dressed all that provocatively tonight, he'll admit. He'd opted against dressing up for an evening where he wasn't even convinced he was going to see any action, so all he was wearing was a demure pair of ripped jeans and a fishnet vest - enough to pass as worth it, but not outrageous enough to command attention. So he peeled off the top without much care, being careful not to let his piercings catch on the material; he was testing out some new jewellery, an odd rectangular pair of nipple rings. He didn't know what to really do with it other than let it fall to one side, but Vernon's paw snatched out, taking it off the mutt without so much as a word. He just silently stood there, like a waiting butler, as Martin hesitantly unbuttoned his fly and then levered himself out of his jeans, letting them drop to the floor. He kicked his footpaws out of them, only to watch the canine once again bend over to pick them up, folding them up neatly onto his forearms. The male had gone commando beneath it all, so he stood their nude in the Saint Bernard's presence, realising that the man now held his only clothes he had with him. He watched, a little anxiously, as the dog took them away to the side, opening up a rather high cupboard revealing a timed safe inside. The clothes were placed neatly inside, then the door shut and the lock clicking with a rather terrifying snap. It was now shut indefinitely, for however long its timer was set for... he could be here for the night, the weekend, the rest of next week...

It then dawned on him that Vernon, unlike himself, was still fully clothed, as far as he could be at least. He hadn't yet needed to shred a single garment and so stood proudly, as if he already exuded that authority and superiority over the mutt, simply by being dressed when he was not.

"Stand up straight, legs apart, arms outstretched, and look dead ahead - not a word unless I say so."

Martin shivered as he did as he was told, shuffling into position as he kept his gaze looking straight forward as the canine slowly strutted around him, as if he were some committed purchase and was being checked for any defects. It was humiliating to feel eyes searing against his pelt, paws occasionally brushing and groping along his body. Vernon, now standing behind the mutt, brushed his paws down along the boy's arms, travelling to the shoulders before encircling to the armpits, gently brushing the backs of his fingers along the slender sides of the body standing before him. Martin could almost imagine the kinds of thoughts that were going through his head about what he could do to him. His paws moved around to the front of his body, his hulking form stepping up behind the mutt so that there was just a fraction of an inch between them. He could feel the immense presence and heat that radiated from him, his gut pressing up against Martin's back, to remind him of his position. It was then that those winding fingers, thick as they may be, picked at his nipples, tugged at his rings with savage but short pulls, and tweaked the nubs between his claws. Unable to hold back the sudden burst of pain in his throat, but his gasp was cut off by a paw clasped around his throat, snaking up to his muzzle to hold it tightly shut, uncomfortably tight, so much so Martin wanted to yank his head away, but was too weak to even try.

"Now what did I say?" Vernon wheezed down his ear, voice low and threatening. He waited until the mutt stopped resisting, relaxing until he was once again still despite the agony flaring from his pinched nipple, his ring twisted to a near ninety degree angle, "Good boy, that's it. Embrace the pain. Good slave." Martin wanted to cry out, he would have preferred to whimper at the very least, but the canine was testing him, pushing him to see how far he could go, and he wasn't about to fold so easily and present himself as a poor sub.

Eventually, Vernon let go of his muzzle, giving him the chance to work his jaw and stretch out the muscles, returning to roam his paws over Martin's front. He kept one at his throat, holding his head back so that he was looking up to the ceiling, up past Vernon's looming face. His hot breath panted over his cheeks, tickling his ears, whilst that paw on his neck tightened, locking him there. The other had ventured down, sliding against the smooth contours of the mutt's stomach until it reached Martin's crotch. He idly played with the sheath and balls, rolling them around in his palm until he decided he wished to tease the boy's length; sharp claws slid into his sheath's opening, prising it apart and pushing in deeper. His claws clacked against the metal of his Prince Albert, digits curling around the ring that was pierced through his head. Martin was confused as to what exactly he was doing, feeling the sensations all too sharply jolting through his abdomen. It felt wrong to have someone delving into his sheath, the points of the claws catching on his sensitive flesh and making him jump, though each time he tried to shift his neck was clamped down upon tighter, Vernon's head practically a hair's breadth away from his own, his teeth so dangerously close to the pale tan of his nape. Martin was shivering and jittering beneath the dog's domineering grasp, but there was nothing he could do. The dog was happy to pull and yank upon his cock piercing without remorse, dragging it out of the mutt's sheath until it was nearly at the entrance. It was only then that he figured out what Vernon wanted; he wasn't going to stop tormenting Martin's member unless he got hard and got hard fast, otherwise he might very well rip out the piercing currently being pulled upon to forcefully coax his hardness out.

It took some willpower, the whole situation giving him a remarkable turn out that he was being brutally used like this, and it wasn't too long before his erection started to firm up, blood throbbing into his shaft and engorging the by now tender flesh. Still, it wasn't as quick as he would have hoped, for a dull sting had begun to ache through his dick, even as he gave in to the dog's vicious desires. By the time his knot had popped free from the sheath to signal his full mast, he was left with an uncomfortable pain as Vernon finally let go, moving now to squeeze and crush the knot within his grasp. Once more, Martin had to fight the urge to squirm and writhe, held tight against the Saint Bernard's thick build, as the agonising quivers that shook through his cock rattled his mind trying to decide whether to enjoy what was happening or to resent it. He could smell the dog's breath by now, a wet, heady scent that was filling his nostrils with its tang. The bulge of Vernon's crotch was grinding up against his bared cheeks, his last intimate region the master hadn't yet spoiled.

Of course, much like them heading back to the dog's dungeon, it was only inevitable that the inspection would befall that particular area.

"Bend over, slut." It wasn't so much a command as more a statement of fact; the mutt's body was doubled over at his hips, made to lean down until he could touch his toes with his paws, his member jutting into his gut, blood rushing to his head in feverish thumps that pounded behind the temples. With his legs spread wide his cheeks could be easily parted, pulled back to reveal his furry cleft and the pucker hiding within. There was a low moan of appreciation from the dog behind him, his breath wafting against his rear, "Very nice, neatly trimmed, freshly cleaned - how often do you clean yourself?" Martin knew not to answer, he'd already failed at that hurdle once before. A sharp smack to his rump jolted his senses, "Speak, slave."

"Every other day, sir."

"You shall call me Master now, if we've learned already to drop the 'Vern'." Finger touched upon his hole, circling the rim. A wad of spit was hacked up behind him, Martin feeling the warm, wet splodge splatter against his flesh, "How well do you stretch? What's the biggest you've ever taken, toy or not?"

"I have been trained to stretch as wide as necessary, Master," Martin tried to keep his tone polite, brief and to the point. Nobody wanted a slave who ambled or wittered on, nor did they like one who acted like a petulant child at being interrogated. It was simply the mind-set. He was essentially property which could speak for itself, and any prospective 'buyers' as it were would want to know the history and the capacity of their toys, even if it were just for a test drive. "I have taken a draught horse several times, I've been knot-fucked in my time by large canines such as yourself, as well as taking several cocks at once, even to the point of being able to stretch to take a fist and following arm."

"Excellent, excellent..." Vernon was trailing off as his fingers begun to push into the mutt's hole. He hadn't been lying, naturally, for it would be stupid to try and delude an expert, but spit alone was not adequate lube. The Saint Bernard didn't seem to care though; he pushed his fingers in without a moment to spare, refusing to stop until three fingers were already buried into Martin's ass. He fought against pulling away, as much as it hurt, for he didn't dare to upset the dog again. He grit his teeth and clenched his eyes shut whilst the digits inside him were twisted and wriggled, working him looser and looser. "Alright, let's get you into position then."

He wasn't entirely sure what that would entail, but he took it as a sign to lift himself up and give his body a brief rest. Vernon had already disappeared off to the sides, the clatter of gear about on counter tops and from racks resonated across the basement as the mutt waited for whatever the Saint Bernard had in mind. What startled him first though was the sudden clang from above him, a shaking whir of motors groaning from the rafters. What lowered down was a series of chains, jangling and clinking against another as they descended like some kind of ominous web, glittering in the false light. Vernon was making his way back over, a remote control of some sort in one paw, thumb pressed upon a button, pulling along a trolley with him with a small selection of gear laid upon its top. He could just make out rather vague harness of some sort, a rather obvious dildo that he'd never seen before, a spreader bar and arm binder, and a weighty looking collar made of steel.

"Stand still and move only when I allow."

Firstly was the binder, his arms folded behind his back so that they were snug to each other, the forearms running parallel. Locks were clicked shut with a soft latch, leaving him immobile from the waist upwards, his legs still held at that distance apart as he'd been instructed. It was then that matters were made worse when Vernon crouched down, his lumbering weight dropping to the floor on one knee so that he could clasp each end around his ankles, tightening the bar until Martin could feel himself threatening to teeter over were it not the for canine's paws there to right him each time he felt he might fall - as if to only remind him that he was at his mercy. The mutt's collar was swapped over, the comfortable leather switched for the cold, hard metal that sat around his neck as if it were some kind of punishment. All that seemed to be left was the harness, which only seemed unusual to the mutt in that it was the decorative sort he was accustomed to. If anything, it looked more like something that would be useful for climbing. He allowed himself to be dressed and strapped in by Vernon who went by checking each loop himself. It sat rather snugly on his body, hugging his limbs against his crotch, over his midriff and his ribcage, and then finally over his shoulders and under his pits. It seemed that the canine was happy with his work, and so stepped away, fiddling now with the chains he'd brought down from the heavens above. Martin glanced back to spy what was going on, but he got sharp claws rake against his buttocks, a mild burn of pain with no lasting damage, but it got the message across,

"Keep looking forward, boy!"

Though his eyes were fixed on the farther end of the room, not daring now to try a stunt like that again, he kept his ears focused. The rattle of metal was getting closer, the dog's footfalls plodding against the linoleum floor, Vernon could only be approaching the back of the mutt. His suspicions were only confirmed when swaying tugs pulled at the harness fitted around his body. Martin could feel the floor disappearing from beneath him, his weight being lifted up into the air as a crank of motors worked overhead. A short, incredibly brief glance to the side proved Martin right, as he saw Vernon pressing another button on his control that was raising him up. He felt his legs swing out from under him, the Saint Bernard moving to fit a last chain to the spreader bar until he was dangling in the air, unable to move or even shake himself from side to side. His body rested against the harness, balanced and hanging from the ceiling. All that remained on the table was the dildo...

Vernon reached for it now, lifting up the toy. Without any context, he would never know if it was larger or smaller than his own manhood, as his was still tucked away in his thong. It was about as thick as the dog's bicep, the length of his forearm too near about, and appeared to be composed with metal inset into the material it was made from. But master didn't immediately press it against the mutt's hole. Instead he sauntered around his dangling prey, once more inspecting him and running his paws all along the mutt's captured form. He held the toy in his other paw, the control left to one side for now, lifting the behemoth well within Martin's line of sight,

"What do you want, slave?" Vernon asked clearly and confidently, casually walking in front of the boy dangling from chains, suspended in bondage, "Do you want to be fucked?"

"Yes sir," Martin panted, anticipation fluttering against his chest, the sensation of being aloft alien to him and disconcerting, "Yes sir, please fuck me. I want to be filled, sir."

"Alright boy, I'll fuck you, but there will be conditions, do you understand?" He lifted up the mutt's head, so that he had no choice but to look deep into the dog's cold, calculating eyes, a shimmer of euphoria running behind the glassy look that belied his true emotions. He was savouring every helpless minute of the mutt's torture, "You will hold this toy in your ass and you shall not push it out, and you will not cum at all. If you can make it through five minutes without unloading, then I will let you down and I shall fuck you myself, would you like that boy?" Martin nodded, it seemed like an easy win situation, "Remember, don't cum at all for five minutes whilst you keep that toy in you. I'll count down, but if you fail then I get to fuck you how I want and you have to stay up there." Another nod, anything to relieve him from the strain against his limbs, "Okay boy, just relax then..."

He disappeared behind the mutt, the sound of a lid to a jar popping. Undoubtedly that would be lube, confirmed only by the sickening wet squelch as what must have been the toy dipping into slick gel. Martin flinched when he felt a gloopy slap against his ass, Vernon's paw swatting at his rear with a huge dollop of fisting jelly, letting those three same fingers from before to re-enter his hole. This time around the pain was less intense, but it was still there, lingering beneath the sensation of being stretched gently numbing his rim as he was worked open. A fourth finger slipped in as if the Saint Bernard were sliding his paw into a glove, the hole gaping and gasping for as much as he had to give. Martin almost expected him to just stuff his whole fist up there if he wanted to, as it'd seemed like the natural progression for the toy, but when the thumb was merely teased against the rim, straining it in tentative pushes that had the pair of them trembling from the force, Vernon brought his paw away, a lewd fart of escaping air spluttering out into the quiet dungeon. His cock throbbed beneath him, pulsing as pre was milked from his hole until it streamed down in tiny waterfalls from his tip. He was sure he could last five minutes, and then he'd finally get a chance to take a breather.

Before fetching the dildo however, Vernon had some other plans in mind. He headed round to the mutt's head, wiping his sticky paws over the male's fur to clean himself off, before he reached Martin's gaze. He had a lecherous smile on his lips, as one paw, now clean, gave an open grope of his groin, squeezing his restrained bulge,

"Oh, what I'd give just to leave that toy in you and fuck that pretty face of yours all night long... but a deal's a deal." He feigned disappointment, but it was thinly veiled, and all too soon the image was shattered and replaced with a sly smirk, "But that's not to say I can't have fun..." His paw moved up to his waistband of the thong, Martin wondering if he'd finally get to see the male's cock once and for all, but instead he pulled out a piece of red cloth that had been wedged deep within his underwear. Even as Vernon drew it out with a rolling shudder through his body, Martin could smell the thick, permeated stench of his manhood smeared all over the cloth, damp stains of where leaked pre must have seeped across, every fibre seeming to reek of its scent and taste. There was no way he could resist as first the bandana was draped across his nose, wiped all over his lips and against his tongue, a forceful paw from Vernon holding it open, before finally it was tied over her eyes to blot out his vision completely, leaving him in the total dark. The bitter taste of the dog's stewing meat was all over his mouth, and there seemed to be nothing he could do to shift the flavour except to try his best to ignore, though it plagued his senses. His brow felt slimy from the pre that must be now streaked across his face, his cheeks moist after being rubbed all over by this cum rag.

In the dark, his mouth sticky with the sweltering taste of hot dick, he heard Vernon leave to return to his ass, the sound of him lifting the dildo up off its tray. The toy was hoisted up to his rear, and its fat, blunt head was held against his waiting entrance. It was by far larger than Martin had expected, but he bit his teeth together and moaned pathetically as Vernon forced it into him. The pressure was immense, almost impossible, as he bore down with all the strength he had in his arm. The mutt could feel the chains shaking and rattling as it was plunged into him. Seconds dragged out as Martin was on the edge of begging him to stop, to work him open wider, but his body gave out before his willpower did, and suddenly he felt the hard toy slam deep into him, several inches burrowing deep into his guts. He yelped loudly, writhing in his bounds but unable to fight back as his master pushed in the last half of the toy, not stopping until the base was pressed up tightly to his cheeks, the head tunnelling further into him until it was reaching places no toy should, grinding against his prostate and working his cock over into a near-constant drooling state.

"Good boy!" Vernon coaxed encouragingly, "Now all you have to do is keep it there for five minutes without jizzing, slave..." It seemed easy enough. Though it was uncomfortable and intense all at the same time, Martin was sure he could fend off climaxing for five minutes, so long as his muscles didn't try and push the toy out. It felt too heavy for that though, gravity keeping it plugged deep inside him, it's smooth, unnatural shape giving his bowels a work over from what he was typically used to.

Suddenly, he felt heavy breaths against his ear, an icy whisper brushing against his fur,

"By the way, I don't play fair. It ain't nasty 'cause I play nice..."

It was then that Vernon must have switched on the toy in his ass. At first, Martin thought it was a vibrator for the sudden jolt it delivered deep to his gut, but when that feeling began to oscillate, began to intensify and ramp up until he was screaming and yelling and pleading for mercy, it was only then that he realised what it was. He was no novice to what was known in the community as 'electro' - the stimulation of the body via electric currents passed through intimate and sensitive areas. Normally he'd just get his nipples wired up, perhaps his cock and balls too, but it was too rare an occasion for him to have a probe shoved up his ass that was wired up. Martin was grunting and wheezing for air as he felt the current continue to just climb and climb, the initial feeling of a gentle tapping and scraping in his stomach rising up until it was like someone was punching him hard in the guts, his ass clenching down on the toy, his cheeks flexing as every muscle contracted each time the voltage passed through him.

For Martin, the sensation was unlike anything else he'd felt before. To be fucked was one thing, to be bred another, but to be so violated, in a position where not only could you do nothing about it but you doubted even a safe-word would rescue you from the situation. The dildo itself was already massive, the pulsing currents it sent coursing through his ass only heightening that sensation, that he was swelling up from the inside, burning with an uncomfortable bliss that no man or woman should experience. It wasn't normal by any means, he knew that much, but there was just something so intoxicating about it. When he adjusted to the pattern, when he anticipated the jolts as they came, it become horrifically euphoric, like someone was just filling his insides with a worming cock that writhed about, twisting and turning, like it had a life of its own. His gasps would quieten by then, his panicked groans becoming softer. That would be the points where Vernon reminded him of his position, once again turning up the settings on his little remote he'd been carrying around with him, which would only lead Martin into greater states of pain and pleasure, where they just blurred dangerously and he couldn't tell which he wanted more. He wanted so badly just to reach down and jack himself off, because the feeling was too intense. Without any direct stimulation to his cock or balls, he was left to feel the sensation off his prostate, which was being pulverised and scored into oblivion by the current. There was a sharp feeling of needing to relieve himself, but nothing happened, which only grew stronger and radiated all over his abdomen until he was humping the air beneath in futile frustration, his cock spewing pre all over the floor. A wandering finger gently stroked down the length of his cock, barely touching the flesh, leaving him to scream pathetically into the shadows as he was kept from cumming. How much time had passed? How much longer did he have left? At this rate, he wasn't even sure if he would or wouldn't succeed in his little task.

His mouth was left almost perpetually open, only closing every now and then to wet his drying lips as his throat demanded to let loose the most ungodly sounds as his body was tormented. He was only silenced - or rather muffled would be a better word - when his maw was stuffed full with something slick, warm, fleshy, and hard. His lips closed around it instinctively like any slave should, and he suckled upon the familiar form of a canine's member. Vernon grunted above him, moaning sweet nothings to no one in particular,

"Damn, that's a fine ass mouth..."

He grabbed a hold of Martin's head, taking immediately over from the mutt's attempts to pull forwards to greet the cock sliding into his muzzle; the fat length wasn't as long as he'd expected it to be for someone of Vernon's build, but it was probably just as thick as the toy zapping his ass right now. He couldn't concentrate on any sensation, stuck between the dildo churning his guts, the member fucking his mouth like any other hole, or holding off his climax with all his might deep from his abdomen. It was difficult, juggling all the feelings at once, his tongue bumping against balls in his maw, sensing the presence of piercings - a frenum ladder - that clacked on his teeth as Vernon face-fucked him. The probe was perhaps the most difficult to dismiss, as it was playing havoc with his body and he didn't know if he could hold out any longer. His cock was throbbing desperately, almost as if it were begging the mutt to just let loose already, to end the torture. Martin didn't know what to do, realising he may just be losing the battle. All he could do was give off a frightened moan, body flailing as best it could in its bindings.

"I've only counted three minutes and forty-one seconds..."

Martin sobbed around the member that filled his muzzle, shuddering and shivering in the suspended harness as he just lost himself to vast onslaught to all his senses. His eyes felt wet, still left in the dark, his mouth tasted of fresh, bitter pre that was pumped down his throat by a thrusting fat cock that didn't let up, his jaw stretched and already aching as he was used like a toy, his ass quivering with each intensified pulse that charged through him, his cock swelling up beneath him. His knot was already forming, engorging itself to a painful state until it felt like it might well just literally burst. His balls were on fire, swilling with pent up cum that was just waiting for the break in his will to rush forward in a torrent that would seal his fate. The mutt's moans were getting more and more frantic, pleading and desperate, his ears pinned back against his head as he truly submitted to the man breeding his face,

"Thirty seconds left..."

He could hold out for thirty seconds... That was manageable. Martin laughed, the sound spluttering around his cheeks, his muzzle slick with his spittle and Vernon's errant pre splodges.

"Twenty..."

All he had to do was hold it all back, hold back to overwhelming discomfort, his orgasm not just boiling but frothing up over the sides and threatening to blow.

"Ten..."

Martin clenched his eyes, his ass, forced his body to keep the climax back, desperately waiting, just waiting...

"Five seconds, slave..." He was going to make it! He was actually going to do it! "Four... three... two... one..." He was so close, so fucking close and when he reached zero he could let go... "Half a second..."

What was this? Was Vernon cheating? He had said he wouldn't play fair, that he'd play nasty...

"One third... one quarter... one fifth..." The big dog shoved his meat in deep into the stuffed maw of the mutt, "I can go all night, slave, just admit defeat already."

He'd lost the battle before he'd even started, that much Martin would have to accept. Though a small part of him wasn't surprised, a slave could never win against his master. He finally let go, and then basked in the painful relief.

His cock shook violently; throbbing with cum that practically surged from his head in thick streams. Normally he'd just shoot in jets, but his build-up had ruined the whole ordeal, his orgasm spent before it had even left his member. It had lost its energy, and now was just his balls emptying themselves whilst he was continued to be used with every nerve fraught and frayed which left him shivering from fatigue. His mind clouded over as he failed to keep track of how many times he'd cum, unable to keep focus. He was fairly sure Vernon was just taking advantage of the situation and was rutting his face hard, that knot battering his lips and forcing his jaw wider to take it. But it mustn't have been enough, as he didn't recall tasting the salty seed of the male upon his tongue, the rush flooding down his throat. Instead the Saint Bernard just pulled himself out, and left his head.

"Looks like I won, boy. But I'm much too on edge right now. I wouldn't be able to savour riding your ass..."

The toy was unceremoniously pulled from his ass, Martin yelling as it was yanked free from his stretched and gaped hole, his body bucking in its harness as the emptiness swelled over him, biting back a number of colourful words that almost sprung from his tired mouth. He whimpered and whined softly almost sure tears were streaming down his face. He barely registered the shake and groan of the motors lowering him down, though not entirely. Only he did realise the change when he felt the fat canine straddle his thighs, sitting atop him as if he were riding a feral beast.

Without any semblance of strength he couldn't even fight back as Vernon pivoted himself forwards, pushing his stout, fat member into his loose hole. He sank right in, the knot swallowed up in the slack rim only to kiss at the dog's crotch, the hole slick with lube. Martin squealed though when he felt the dog's huge paws push against his swollen entrance, both of them sliding in alongside his cock until they were sucked in to the wrists, the sensation of depth from before now replaced with cruel width, leaving him panting hard, already exhausted but now placed on high alert as he felt those paws begin to move backwards and forwards rhythmically in his rear. Vernon was wanking into his guts, humping his own paws until he grunted, barking and snapping at the air until he leant all his weight forwards against the mutt's back, the chains creaking dangerously. Heavy shots of seed burst into his stretched ass, mixing in with the jelly already swirling around in its depths. The dog just rocked atop his hind, letting him ride out the orgasm as he enjoyed the warm, enveloping innards of the mutt, stroking himself until every last drop was milked from his ass.

He pulled himself free with a wet pop, the rim oozing with the freshly creamed jizz, the hole failing to tighten up despite how badly Martin willed it to. He couldn't even fight back when he felt The huge toy return to his ass again, slid down into him until it disappeared altogether, his rim swallowing it up so that it sat lodged deep inside.

"Please Master..." the mutt begged breathlessly, breaking the cardinal rule of never speaking unless spoken to, "Please, no more..."

A paw snapped at the back of his head, a gag being pushed between his lips that was fastened back around his head,

"You lost, boy, and now you're being disobedient. I was going to only leave you for a few minutes, but I suppose an hour might be better to let you... recuperate."

That was the last Martin heard of Vernon's dark voice for a long while. He lost count after he'd tried reaching five minutes or so. It was difficult to concentrate when the Saint Bernard hit the switch to the probe once more, sending the current coursing through his guts once more, leaving him in the dark, suspended in air, left to suffer quietly until he was ready to truly break his pet...