FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Araceli dug her claws into the shelves offered by the bricks in the wall. Crawling up thus far had been a grueling task, but the balcony above would lead her directly to the treasure trove she desired. Each time she cast her glance over her shoulder and down to the bushes below she had to steel herself.

She was acrobatic, as any burglar worth their salt. But something felt off this evening. Each look down at the pushes reminded her of her own mortality. Perhaps it was the anticipation of the payout. She'd gotten an excellent tip off about this home and its lackluster security. It almost seemed too good to be true. If ever there was a nobleman bent over asking for it, this was him.

The feline had never heard of him. Auclair, it sounded foreign. It hardly mattered. His coin and gems would do nicely in her pocket. She soothed the thrumming of her heart with a little daydream of arguing with her fence over their cut. That certainly help keep her mind off the potential plummet to a broken leg she was risking.

Claw over brick, up and up, she ascended. Until finally she could reach out and slip her hand onto the balcony. A great weight was taken off her shoulders and mind, just from being able to fully lay her palm against the cool, pale stone. She allowed herself a sigh of relief before hoisting herself over proper.

All this, naturally, without a sound. The soft pads of her paws offered an inborn and excellent muffler to her steps. Meticulous care of her footpaws's claws kept the nails long enough to use, but short enough to make sure she wasn't clacking on the floor.

The balcony was small, only enough to allow someone a peek to the city. Satisfied with herself, Araceli smirked and turned her back on the entryway a moment to admire the urban sprawl. Quiet. The glimmer of street lamps, burning eternal, magical flames flickered. A pleasing purple-black blanket lay above, dotted with silver pinholes. Cloudless and clear.

Even at this late hour, the air was a bit pregnant with warmth. A stillness and tension spoke to a brewing summer storm, despite the lack of overcast. A shy, cool breeze just barely played at Araceli's fur, teasing her with relief but never fulfilling its promise entirely.

Content with her self-adoring pause and examination of the city, she put away her prideful thoughts and turned toward the door. This balcony led to a study, if her tip was correct, and this study wasn't far from the bedroom. Valuable goods, in a nobleman's townhome, would be in every room. The real trouble here would be carrying it all out.

Her twin-tapered tailcoat wasn't lacking for pockets, but even so, she wasn't fond of lugging heavy loads around.

From her pocket, she fished a small stone. It was just a common river pebble but enchanted. It would grow cold when brought near anything magical. Excellent for detecting silent, or loud, alarms. Magical locks. But so too mystic trinkets of value. She didn't have any arcane talent herself, but procuring such an item wasn't difficult with connections.

Detector in hand, she slid it by the lock and door's seams and hinged. Nothing. Body warm, not even a hint of a change. She shrugged and stuffed it back to her trouser's pocket.

She produced her rake and pick from her breast pocket, and easy as yawning she penetrated the lock. No guards posted. A shoddy lock not reinforced by magic. A cakewalk. A milk run. Like taking candy from a baby.

Pushing open the door brought with it no comically loud squeak. Nothing but silence as she padded from the balcony to the rug of the study. Her eyes made ample use of the limited light, the night vision her feline orbs gave her put her more than a cut above any human or diurnal beast.

Scanning the many shelves and tables for goods worth pilfering, slow and steady. She found little that jumped out at her. No matter. Plenty of other rooms to scour.

She made her way to the exit, wondering what the internal layout was like. Cold water was quickly thrown on her imagination when the door opened before she could reach it.

Her feline pupils tightened to thin papercuts. The owner of the manor shouldn't be staring her down with a smug smile on his lips, and yet here he was.

He was just as she might have imagined. A human, tall and robust even in his dainty courtly clothing. A thin moustache with a slight curl sat above a close-trimmed goatee. A Van Dyke of a displeasingly foppish degree. Though, suitable for that look of superiority he was chaining Araceli with. His hair was slicked back tight, shorn at the sides, and dashed with a few strands of grey.

Araceli was a girl of action, rather than words. So, her claws flashed from her fingertips, and she swung low in a cupping swipe. Her intention was to grab and dig her claws into his nuts. Usually, a nice squeeze like that was enough to get a man on her knees - the perfect opportunity for her to escape.

Just like her carefully laid plans to loot his home, her strike didn't go as she wanted. As her hand swung to grasp between her legs, it was batted awat with a swipe of the human's arm.

Time seemed to slow for Araceli. She was thrown off balance. She could feel her toe claws dig into the wood of the floor before she felt the contusion on her ulna. The expression on the human's face became graven on her psyche. He'd only parried her hand but his features were alight with a predatory success of victory.

She couldn't back away before he brought his iron fist back down to her head. A blow fell to her left ear heavy enough to make her brain feel shaken. Araceli needed space to regain her posture and footing, but she wasn't allowed an inch.

Elbows, mitts, fists. He rained a series of blows on her that drained the feeling from her toes. Fierce and direct points of violence landed to her body with such sound fury she could hardly comprehend one ache before another appeared.

She was no fighter, but her natural instincts to scrap kicked in. For the human, her resistance only spurred him on. Araceli felt her attempt to claw at him caught and stopped, opening her guard up. The human yanked her arm high, exposing her solar plexus to a pummeling that lifted her off the ground.

The air fled her lungs and she spat a spray of spit and blood across his cheek and shoulder in shock. Raised from the ground so easily, she felt her toe claws attempt to clutch the floorboards as all her weight was held aloft by his knuckles. She was quickly alleviated from this pain, though, when her hip and shoulder were grappled and she was thrown sidelong into a wall.

There was no wind to knock from her, only a dry wheeze from her bloodied lips as the spike of pain on her spine roused her from her stupor. She slid down the wall to a crumpled pile of svelt cat and tailcoat. Her arms trembled as she tried to do the barest minimum of lifting her red-smeared visage from the floor.

"Still have some fight in you?"

Araceli desperately tried to speak through loosened teeth and bitten tongue to claim she didn't. He wouldn't have listened even if she could do more than dribble blood. He grabbed her left leg, dragging her flat to the floor and opening her legs. The grasp at her ankle made her heart seize in panic. A vague dread of what vengence he might exact on her began to dawn on her.

The violence wouldn't just be physical, but sexual as well. The yellow of her irises had retreated, to wide and shocked black pupils of a pleading and submissive nature. But he didn't begin to crouch over her to undo their lower garments. Instead, his boot fell upon her cunt. Two rough and potent slams to her most sensitive spot brought life to her tired form again.

"Ghhh! Shh, stop! I'm sorry!"

"Not yet you're not."

A third punt to her snatch was punctuated by him dragging the ridged bottom of his boot across her groin. The scrape of his shoe's tread dug in past the garments protecting her and flicked her clit repeatedly. Her pleasure bud was harrowed by the slow rake of his sole against her nethers.

Her hand lashed out, clutching at his calf in a vain attempt to lift his boot off her, but no chance. He topped off the torment with a swift and direct kick with the toe of his shoe to her labia.

"Fuh! Nnnn, fuck." Released and free, Araceli immediately put both hands by her pussy to protect herself, but the damage was already done.

Throbs of pain reignited across her body with each heartbeat she pumped. She couldn't halt the pathetic mewl that whispered from her feline lips, whiskers curling as she shut her eyes and tried to hide away in herself. She rolled to her side, clutching still at her groin and trying to hide it further with a leg.

"Do you have any idea who's home you've tried to burglarize?"

She shook her head no, hoping it might afford her some mercy.

"So quiet and pretty but so dumb. Fitting for a cat. All confidence and gusto, think you're the slickest thing to ever walk the streets." He gave her ass a swift kick with his boot. He knelt down and grabbed her scruff in a tight clench, tugging her up - much to her shrill protest. "I am Ladro di Stelle, and now that I've told you, you have two options."

Araceli's blood ran cold, and she almost forgot all the pain in her body. Her eyes shot to the man grabbing her, examining his features again and again. Admiration and fascination was polluted by a healthy dose of fear. Ladro di Stelle, the Star Thief, was the pseudonym of Bellaforat's premier gentleman thief.

He got his title stealing an artificial "star" from the local mage's guild. Their prize little trinket was swiped the same night it was unveiled. They were humiliated for weeks, and shuddered their doors in shame for even longer. A man of such skill, and Araceli was foolish enough to trundle into his house.

Before she could really lament her blunder, he spoke again.

"Keep my secret, and live under my care and tutelage. Or we can go another round and I assure you I won't be restraining myself."

Araceli put her hands up, the scruff on her neck starting to feel sore with how it was being tugged. Something very primal in her felt small and shy. The throb in her nethers took on a more needy form. She tried to disperse her thoughts and find some words. But that offer, that chance. Was he sincere? The mentorship of such a great thief would catapult her from common thug to a legitimate woman of power. Sense, muddled as it was, warned her that this glitter could not be gold. Something was off. But her mouth spoke quicker than her brain.

She nodded first, buying some time for her bitten tongue to rest. "Yes, yes. Thank you."

"Your first lesson will be in humility," Ladro said with a sly smirk. A rough yank brought Araceli to her butt, putting her in a seated position against the wall. Her knees drew close to her body, defensively curling up. The human male loomed over her, backing her up to the wall with his form.

Her face was aligned with the growing bulge in his pants, and her punch-drunk head struggled to connect the dots about his intent beyond a vague sense of malaise. There was little need to guess once he began undoing the strings of his pants, opening them up and revealing a thick, human cock.

The pulse of male virility ran its course through the entire phallus. The flush redness of arousal tinted the fair skin. He was curiously shaven and trim there. Araceli found herself at once stupefied and nervous. The scent alone made her pink triangle of a nose twitch and sniff on pure compulsion.

The slight twinge of sweat and male junk boxed up in clothing for a day, but nothing offensive or rancid. He stroked himself back, the foreskin around his glans revealing a head that glistened arousal and drooled a long silver drip of precum. It was nothing like a male cat. No sheath, no spines. Instead of a short, stubby triangle, it was a thick pole of raw power.

It was massive, at least compared to what the tomcats she'd seen were packing. It made her dizzy huffing it and looking at it, she almost forgot the circumstance that brought her to her knees before it.

Reality snatched at her ear, tugging her from her fantasy and forward into his groin. He grasped her head roughly and rubbed her face across his balls and the underside of his dick.

"Ghh! Ahh, ufff," she muttered in contest, debility in her attempts to pull away. Her hands clutched at his knees for support as her face was smeared against his sack and his victory leaked across her forehead.

"You've given a blowjob before, I can assume?"

She snarled, and when she did, he grasped and rattled her head more.

"Don't dare to even think about sinking your fangs in. I assure you whatever pain you inflict will be returned to you ten-fold. Remember it."

Araceli took pause at this. Ego told her to prepare her predatory fangs to pierce the flesh of this stiff prick before her. Pompous and proud. To knock this human down a peg. But Id, treacherous and meek, told her to submit. Told her to sniff at that scent, to admire the length of him. To appreciate the smooth and girthy piece he offered. Id told her it was a mercy to only be subjected to a bit of oral.

She looked away, blinking and trying to break line of sight with him. Whilst simultaneously opening her mouth. The slight wet parting of her lips made the nobleman giddy with the effervescence of domination. Her spined tongue, threatening sandpaper, gave him no pause. Unbeknownst to Araceli, he'd tamed cats plenty before.

He held tight to the base of his pole and the back of her head. "This will humble you, having your mouth defiled by my cock. Remember that. Think on it."

Her big yellow eyes fluttered. And as she felt her mouth filled with cock, she did think of it. The slight, feline muzzle of her face pressed to the musky base of his junk soon enough, and that masculine scent was really ground into her nose. The papillae naturally flexed and flared, pressing into his skin. It would be an agonizing back thrust, if Ladro didn't know what he was doing.

His hand moved from her ear to her scruff, and he clutched it tight, tugging. Araceli gagged a 'hrk' as the dick slid entirely into her throat and she was choked upon his phallus. And, just as he wanted, the spines of her tone relaxed and fell flat, allowing him a back-thrust.

But this back-thrust was only partial, once again shoving himself forward and abusing her blood-dripping nose with each bump of his groin. He fucked her throat with a pace not keen on pleasure so much as defilement. When her dizzy and swirling golden eyes accidentally met his own, she felt small and possessed.

The cock in her maw filled it entirely and threatened itself against her teeth due to its size despite her efforts. As her tonsils were scraped with his glans, she detected a focus in him she didn't expect. Men getting head might throw their head back out, exhale in pleasure, piston their hips. His breathing was audible, his pleasure was present in the throb of his cock. But the slight twitch of his smile's edges was refined and penetrating to her psyche. It was like he was looking through all that fluff to the hindbrain of her feminine form and compelling it to submit.

It wasn't helping that her abused, stomped clit was now being treated to the soft end of his boot tip. He dug the rounded and oiled leather to her groin, massaging her pussy in a tempo exacting to the face-fuck he was forcing on her. Araceli's mind mixed the pleasure she was getting with the service she was giving.

First, it was oil and water. That grind and rub felt nothing like a second humiliation. The pleasure was distant and it brought irritation to her more than joy. But it didn't stop, nor did the pistoning of his cock, slick with slobber. As the pain abated and Araceli felt herself wetting her panties, the shame came with a buzzing joy. The feeling of being stimulated dominated her senses, and she chewed on the reality forced upon her like a succulent bit of steak.

Defeated, beaten, and now having her pussy toyed with by this man's boot while her mouth was washing the sweat from his cock and teasing his glans? How shameless, how salacious. It made a tremble shiver down her shoulders. It made her eyes flutter. She held onto it. Not to the pain in her arm or leg from the kicks and punches. Not the throb of her slapped clit. She held onto that womanly feeling of being lesser. Being a sex object. Being taken.

And, the feeling took her away. Suddenly. No edge came. It surprised her as much as it did him. Flooding her own panties with an orgasm. Squirting against her trousers and dampening them in a visible wet grey spot of cunt-honey. And that indignity of cumming like a bitch against his boot only made her empty pussy twitch and quiver worse.

But her orgasm was just a pleasant side-effect. Something Ladro could get a laugh from. He was the important party here. And he reaffirmed that by stepping his boot, hard, onto her thigh.

She whimpered around his cock, trying to suck more eagerly to please him. But that didn't make him abate. He put his weight down on her thigh, stamping down into the thin coat to bruise the skin and muscle below. The winge of discomfort upon her brow egged him on, bringing satisfaction to him in a deep-seated and affirming way.

He took his time, but eventually, his need to bust outweighed his want to torment. He planted his seed deeply down her throat, coating the inside of her mouth, and giving her tongue-spines something to swim in.

When he pulled out, Araceli felt her abused snout get a few thick white dabs of semen across it. She felt like she could pass out, hardly keeping herself straight as she went cross-eyed looking at his prick jerk off against her nose.

"There you are. What a pretty cat you make when you're in your place."

A firm but painless pat to her cheek roused her back to reality, focusing on his face instead of his softening phallus.

"Training will begin in the morning. You have a lot to learn before I break you into any of value."