FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

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It should have been an easy contract. Go in, kill dude and his cronies, and get out. It wasn't the highest paying gig, but times were slow in the assassination business. Sometimes there's just no one paying to kill people. Except for that drunk guy at The Swiss. (It's a little bar outside Ft. Lewis, great place to hang out with army guys and get drunk and/or laid or become a dependent) who wanted to pay me a whole 100 dollars to kill his wife. So yeah. Times were slow, and I wanted some action. You can only put rounds through paper targets so many times before you have the itch to put those skills to use.

I suppose I should introduce myself. I'm Dora Schutzhund, the blond half of The Shepsisters. And if you call me that to my face, you might end up holding your own entrails. So please. Call me Dora. And no, I do not explore. I kill people for money. My sister Danica is my partner. Though she primarily handles the business end and facilitates the operations, she's a damn good killer in her own right, and accompanies me on ops from time to time.

Anyway, back to the story. So I took this job at an old warehouse near the harbor. (That's where the target was supposed to be, I didn't suddenly decide to become a forklift operator) That alone should have been a red flag, I mean who the hell besides B movie mafiosi and Longshoremen hang out at warehouses at the harbor? The target was a red fox named Patrick something or other. He was supposed to be this Irish gangster and all around shithead. Someone I would be more than happy to send to the underworld. Danica and I generally only accept a contract if the target is a "bad guy". It keeps the cops away and minimizes our run ins with BOS agents. Which we like. Nothing against the BOS. I'm sure they're a great bunch of folks. Just a little too "goody-two-shoes" for the likes of us.

I'm going off again, sorry. This is what happens when Cigarsnscotch (What the hell kind of name is that anyway? What are you, 12?) decides to let his characters write the story.

So, there I was, searching this warehouse, clad in my favorite black catsuit, trademark pink Glock in paw, and coming up empty. It was pretty obvious that this building had probably been abandoned since the Reagan Administration, and I was beginning to feel a little down in the dumps. Unfortunately a contract killer only gets paid when said contract is fulfilled, usually with a corpse. There were a few rooms left to search, though. And I crept through the door.

I should have been paying more attention to my surroundings, because I never even heard him sneak up on me.

I entered the room, pistol in my paw and ready for anything. Well, almost anything. I heard a soft "pfft" sound and felt a stinging pain in my rear. I stifled a yelp and flinched, paw flying to my ass out of reflex. Though I knew in my head what it was as I was already beginning to feel woozy, I still felt for the source of the pain and felt something metallic sticking out from my ass. I gave it a quick tug and held it up to inspect it. Sure enough, it was a dart.

"Oh fuck." I muttered to no one as my legs began to feel more wobbly. I leaned against the wall for support, trying to level my pistol in the direction of whoever darted me. Maybe I could take them out before whatever drug was coursing through my veins took me down.

My vision was quickly fading though, the pink pistol feeling more like a belt fed machine gun as my body fought to remain upright. It was no use. Whatever was in that dart was powerful.

My pistol clattered to the ground, followed quickly by me, the shock of landing on my knees dulled by the drugs. I bent down to pick it up, my vision blurred and muscles refusing to respond to my brain's commands, when I heard the sound of heavy boots on the concrete floor.

"Well, well, well. If it isn't the infamous Dora Schutzhund." A sneering male voice said. "I must say, I'm a bit disappointed. I thought bagging you'd be much more of a challenge."

I tried to say something, a smart assed comeback, but my jaws wouldn't respond. I couldn't even manage a snarl as I stared into space, my assailant moving behind me where I couldn't see him. Then as if to answer my concern, he said

"Bet you're wondering why you can't move, eh? That dart was loaded with a little cocktail of mine. Perfect for subduing bitches who might decide they can fight, like yourself. It's loaded with a muscle relaxant and a powerful acting aphrodisiac. The first part being to quickly paralyze the target, and the latter to make the slave more receptive to her training. It's also why you're probably feeling a little tingly between the thighs."

I felt his boot in my back, and he gave a shove forward, sending me tumbling muzzle first into the hard floor, paralyzed as I was, I couldn't do anything to break my fall. But I'll be dammed if he wasn't right. There was a small fire beginning to build in my loins. I lay there helpless as I felt my paws being brought behind my back and heard the clinking of metal as cuffs were secured around my wrists. My captor hummed as he added cuffs to my upper arms, thighs, and ankles. Even if I weren't paralyzed, I was immobilized by thick leather restraints- the kind you'd see in fetish clubs. He spoke as he secured my bondage.

"You know, it seems such a waste of talent, a fine assassin such as yourself being reduced to a living fuck doll, but what do you expect walking in here with tits and an ass like that?" As if to emphasize his point, he firmly groped my left breast and squeezed my butt with his other paw. Despite the drugs, I flinched in response, and was rewarded with a sharp slap on my butt.

"That's right, you're now my personal sex slave. You think you were sent here to take out a target, sweetheart? I'm the one who paid for your little mission here. I set you up, and you stumbled right into my trap. And as soon as your sister comes to rescue you, I'll snag her too. But don't worry. I'm not going to sell you off right away, trophies such as yourself. No, I'm keeping you all to myself."

I felt something wrap snugly around my throat and click shut and it took me a minute to realize that I had just been collared. The bastard left it loose enough so that it wouldn't cut off circulation, but tight enough it was uncomfortable.

I was pulled to my knees, and felt gloved fingers working around my jaws, prying my muzzle open. Gods how I would have loved to snap my teeth shut and take some digits with me, but the drugs made sure I gave no resistance. Something hard was stuffed into my maw and straps were secured about my head and muzzle, leaving the foul-tasting object in place. It must have been a ball gag.

"Nice and secure now, slave." The voice was becoming a bit of an irritant, especially since he hadn't seen fit to show himself to me. It would have been nice to have a visual reference for the evisceration taking place in my head. "Now let's get rid of those weapons and fit you with some new toys, eh?"

His paws roamed up and down my body, removing my spare pistol, hunting knife, and other equipment, and groping and fondling me like I was a piece of meat, and in a way, drugged, paralyzed, bound and gagged, I was. Still, the squeezing and groping was eliciting an unwelcome reaction down below, thanks to whatever the hell was in his little cocktail, and by the time he began unzipping the front of my catsuit, I was soaking wet and probably would have let him fuck me right there.

A gloved paw slid beneath my suit and to a breast, fingers pinching the nipple and bringing a little moan from my gagged lips. I felt his hot breath on my neck as his other paw slid down even farther, down my stomach and to my aroused sex.

"Already wet, huh. Good slave. Such a slippery slut."

He slipped one, then two fingers inside me and began thrusting up and down rapidly, causing me to whimper and moan as I was fingered. And damn, he was GOOD at it. A lot of guys think that fingering a pussy is easy, and a lot of you suck at it. However, this guy's technique was on point. It was almost going to be a shame to brutally murder him later.

"You belong to me now, slut. You're no longer Dora the assassin. You're now a nameless sex slave. Your occupation is now that of a living fuck doll. You may fight at first. But you will be broken. You will submit. This." He thrust his fingers deep within me, his other paw pulling on my collar, making it a bit difficult to breathe. "This is mine. You. Are Mine. And once I've coaxed the location of your little base from you, I'll drag your sister to the dungeon as well."

The finger banging went on for a few more minutes, pushing me farther and farther up climax mountain, but every time he could sense I was getting close to the peak, he'd back off, keeping me on edge of glorious orgasm. On one hand, I was glad as I really didn't feel like succumbing to the whims of this soon to be hanging by his intestines slaver, but on the other I was a girl with needs, and those needs were amplified by some powerful ass aphrodisiacs, and him keeping that from me was pissing me right off. Finally after what seemed like an eternity of being brought to the edge of orgasm, his paw withdrew, and there was the sound of lips and tongue smacking as he licked his fingers clean.

"Mmm, Needy bitch. My favorite flavor."

I growled and tugged against my restraints, the paralysis was beginning to wear off.

"Oh don't you worry slave. I'm going to finish you. But we've spent quite a bit of time here, and I really must get you to the ranch. You're quite secure in your current bindings, but I'll feel a little better once you're locked in a containment cell. But first, something for the trip."

Using my former knife, he brought it to my crotch area and pressed firmly. My body tensed as fear began to roil in my chest as I wondered what this sick fuck was doing, and I felt the air in between my legs. Once he had cut a slit above my inner thighs, running to the base of my tail, he tossed the knife away and worked the fabric with his fingers, widening the slit and brushing against my lower lips.

Wrapping an arm around my chest, he used his other paw to remove some items from a satchel type thing. First thing was a canine shaped dildo of about average size, complete with knot at the base. From the bottom of the shaft, a wire and small box dangled.

"A little something to keep your mind occupied during the trip. I'd offer some lube, but I think you're slick enough." He laughed and licked the inside of my ear as he slowly inserted the toy into me, pressing his body close and making me shudder as it slid deeper and deeper, easily lubed by my own natural juices. I grunted as the knot popped into place, holding the toy within my walls and filling me out. He then ran a long strap around my thigh and secured the little box there, and pressed a button on it. Instantly the vibrating toy roared to life, making me twitch and squirm and moan into the gag.

"That's a good girl. But we're not done yet."

I heard him pop something into his mouth, then pull it out again, but I was too distracted by the invader in my pussy to really notice, until I felt something press against my tail-hole, demanding entry. If I hadn't been drugged, I would have clenched tighter than something really tight, but my paralyzed muscles easily allowed the toy entry into my rear. An identical box was strapped around the opposite thigh and that one too, began to vibrate, making me quake in response to the pleasurable sensations.

"Those toys will give you something to think about other than escaping. They'll keep you right on the edge for the ride to the ranch. By then you'll be so desperate for an orgasm you'll be begging to tell me everything I want to know, slave. Now there's just one more thing."

Something was pulled over my head, plunging my world into blackness, and I inhaled the soft scent of leather, and I realized it was a leather hood. It fit snugly around my head, over my muzzle, eyes and ears, blinding and reducing sounds to muffled noises. Thankfully there seemed to be holes in the nose, so I could still breathe as the hood was buckled tightly over my head. I felt a sharp sting in my neck as a syringe was pushed in and the plunger depressed. Another dose of his cocktail to keep me subdued, he said. As I was pulled to my feet and dragged along, another set of paws grabbed my feet and assisted the slaver in carrying me. He seemed to be taking orders from the guy, as I heard his muffled voice order him to secure me in a holding cell and keep me bound and gagged, and not to fuck me until he'd had a chance to claim his prize, and to tell the other guards the same thing.

Beneath the tight fitting hood I rolled my eyes. Males.

I was loaded into a cage of sorts in the back of a van or small truck, sort of like a police paddy wagon, (I'm sure you've seen COPS.) and my restraints were buckled to the walls of the van, ensuring that even if I weren't pumped up with some weird paralyzing lady Viagra, even if I hadn't been bound in some very expensive and comfortable leather bondage cuffs, and even if I hadn't been in a cage, I still couldn't have worked myself free. Not to mention the two vibrators buried in my most intimate areas kept me pretty well distracted. He was right. A few more hours of this, and I'd tell him anything to get an orgasm. I felt the van shudder as the driver started the engine and placed it into drive, and I closed my eyes and tried to get some sleep.

E N D

... Or is it?

Epilogue

Now, you might ask yourself why wasn't I freaking out at this point, after all most sane people would be losing their minds at the thought of being kidnapped and told you were doing to spend the rest of your life as some perverted weirdo's sex toy, and that he was going to do the same to your sister. But there were a couple things. First of all, I am Dora Schutzhund, the world's foremost contract killer. It takes more than that to shake me. Second of all, even through the aphrodisiac induced haze, I was still formulating a plan to violently murder this motherfucker at the first opportunity, and third, well. I like sex. A lot. And if this dude was planning on fucking my brains out, well all the better to get him alone for the aforementioned violent murder, and have some kinky sex all in one. As for who our mysterious stranger is/was and what became of them? I'll let your imagination run wild with that. A lady never tells.

~D.S.