FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Sold to the Brothel

Part one of four

---

Written by Arian Mabe (Amethyst Mare)

Commissioned by Adagiodajiang

_ _

_ _

Sandor curled forward, his forehead pressed to his knees as he hugged them to his chest. How could everything have gone so wrong so quickly? The fox was, naturally, a red fox, though there was a white gene in his lineage, which had been passed down to him. He was often mistaken for an Arctic fox, though he did not have the slightly shorter muzzle and thicker, denser fur. If someone knew him for longer, they would also see that his coat colour did not change as he went through the seasons.

“Unngghh…"

It was wrong, all wrong. The fox curled in on himself, dressed in nothing at all, though he tried to tell himself that his fur was covering enough, that he could still protect his modesty when all he had was fur to hide him. His tail tucked around his ankles, thick and fluffy, but it had been matted with damp where clumps of dirt and debris sank into his fur coat. Of course, the captured fox had not been permitted to bathe or clean himself in any way.

He wasn't important enough for that.

All he'd been doing was travelling to one of the larger cities, but it seemed that all the magical goods he'd been transporting had been too much of a target for bandits, too tempting. They'd been on him in seconds, his guards killed, taken down a narrow ravine where there was nowhere for him to go but either forward or back.

Captured and stripped, the fox had been tossed in the back of a locked wagon with water pooling on the floor of it, along with another anthro who looked rather like a wolf. Except for the fact he was green with white fur on the front of his body and white tips to his ears. White hair fluffed up from his head and the back of his neck, in the style of some anthros, although Sandor did not have head fur quite like that himself.

The wolf's head hung and he jerked back and forth with every bump in the road, his muzzle tipped all the way down to his chest. Sandor knew how he felt, so tired he didn't even want to hold his own head up. His head pounded too, from where one of the bandits had struck him. The bandit had only been held off him due to the fact they had said he was merchandise.

So, Sandor had become goods, just like what he had transported before. Though he never would have ever traded in anthros, no, not in any living souls. He'd just wanted to follow the family business and look at how well that had turned out for him.

Maybe if he had followed the path of a mage and not tried to go into the merchant business with his mother, things would have turned out differently for him. The white fox had never even had any training in how to defend himself in the slightest, which had, clearly, worked out terribly for him in the end.

But there was no going back from that point as the wagon rattled and bounced over the uneven road, rocks jostling it as the horses towed it on, perhaps as tired as Sandor felt.

“Who are you?" He said eventually, though it had been hours in the wagon with just the two of them. “How… How are you here?"

“Me?" The wolf grunted, working his tongue around his mouth and licking his lips, trying to re-moisten everything after being so long without talking. “Mmph… I'm Swiftwolf."

“With the word wolf in your name too?"

The wolf glared at him.

“It is a family name."

“I can understand that…" Sandor sighed. “Is your family waiting for you?"

“Yes," Swiftwolf said. “But I doubt they're going to see me again."

Sandor shuddered. Yes… Yes, that sounded about right, considering how dire the whole situation was.

If he didn't see anyone ever again, not his family, not his partner… Well, they had been together, sort of, though there were complications in their relationship.

Alyssa…

_ _

No, no. No, he'd do his best not to think of Alyssa. He couldn't. It… He would do his best to get out of there.

When the wagon rolled to a halt, no further conversation having taken place between the fox and the wolf, Swiftwolf sucked in a breath.

“It… It's a brothel."

Sandor flinched.

“What? No… No, you cannot be serious…"

His voice shook, dropping into a more formal manner of speaking, even if it was not natural for him. But, no, no… No, he couldn't believe that, he simply couldn't!

And yet it was true, Sandor kicking and snarling, more out of fear than anything else, as they hauled him from the wagon. Swiftwolf, on the other paw, hung his head, even his tail drooping, though he was a bit more muscular than Sandor and should have been better placed to fight back. Yet the fox did not know what they had threatened him with in order to get him to comply. That wasn't something that Swiftwolf had wanted to reveal, so it was a secret he'd forever keep close to his heart.

“No! I won't do it – my mother will pay anything you ask! Just let me go – let me go, I tell you!"

Sandor growled, but a big boar clamped a paw around his muzzle with a grunt and a roll of his eyes.

“Fucking feisty stock, you are," he growled, wrapping a leather bond around his muzzle, keeping it shut by force. “Get in there. All we've got to do is collect our fee – then we're shot of you. And good riddance to that."

Sandor snarled and tried to chomp at the gag – but, of course, that was no good when it was wrapped around the outside of his muzzle. With his arms wrenched behind his back, he was manhandled by force into the brothel, a discreet establishment on the edge of a town, seemingly – but he didn't know where he was. He wasn't meant to know.

Swiftwolf grunted as his arms were tied behind his back, his wrists against one another and the knots tucked away from fingers that could have twisted and grabbed, untying them, if he was persistent enough. Yet they had done something even more wicked to him, just to show the more fearsome, supposedly, predator where his place was; they'd soaked the leather bonds, which they'd used to tie his wrists, in water. That could have been innocuous, innocent at best, but the leather shrank as it dried, cutting off the circulation in his paws more and more, rendering them dead and numb and prickling with pain.

A tired wolf, after all, would be much easier for the slave trainers at the brothel to break. For a life as sex slaves was all that awaited them.

*

Sandor growled, in a dormitory style room with lots of narrow, hard beds with the other slaves.

“I won't do it."

Light streamed in through the high, slatted windows, though the windows were nowhere near big enough to let in the natural light they needed. The other slaves there were a mix of species, some broken and some still fighting the training they were being drilled through. To the brothel owners and those training them, they were nothing more than stock to be moved, something to find a use for and only that. Other than the bodies and the beds and the threadbare sheets they were permitted, the dormitory room was shockingly bare of any entertainment or stimulation for any of the anthro slaves in there.

It just wasn't something that others thought they needed. After all, they were only sex slaves, and they were only useful as long as they were making money for the brothel.

“Oh, yes?"

The stag looked down at him with a cruel smirk on his lips, amusement glinting in his eyes. Sandor was struck with the sense that he had seen many slaves, others like him, before – and he was no different.

He was not special.

The fox squared his jaw and met the deer's eyes levelly. He had a rich, brown coat of fur and seemed to be a red deer – yet the full rack of antlers was intimidating enough. He was easily a good head and shoulders taller than Sandor, though the fox had been forced down to his knees at that time.

“Yes, I mean it." Sandor spoke loudly and clearly, turning heads in the dormitory. “I am a merchant, not a slave. No one should be forced into sex work when they don't want it. Why don't you find willing participants for the brothel? I'm confident that your takings would be even higher for it."

The stag snickered and shook his head. Sandor growled, chilled.

“Oh, you poor thing," he said, voice dripping with dark sarcasm. “What a world you live in, little merchant. You're not a merchant anymore, so you'd best get that into your head right now. We choose our slaves and our clients, well… They don't care whether who they fuck is willing or not, at the start. Some like a fight. You, however… Oh, we'll see you well broken, weak little fox."

Sandor snarled.

“Hey – you can't just call me that!"

“Oh, but I can."

The stag snapped his fingers and two of the brothel heavyweights – those that acted as guards and the required muscle whenever new slaves were being brought to heel – moved in, snatching up Sandor and Swiftwolf. The wolf was easier to drag alone, considering his paws were bound in fresh rope, after the constricting effect of the drying leather, but he had been considered a dangerous species at first. Even though Sandor did not honestly see all that much difference between him and Swiftwolf, he was at least glad that he had got away without being tied up.

The room they were dragged to and tossed into, however, was not something that would ever have settled his fears. Every side was wooden, which was the normal style there, though there was no paper or paint or anything at all to make it feel more homely. Everything about the training room spoke of function, down to the shelves and racks and hooks on the walls, storing every imaginable kind of equipment that could break a sex slave.

The fox quivered, freezing in place, the hairs on the back of his neck standing up, as if he was trying to raise his hackles. Yet instinct did not call on that, not at that time, the sex furniture in the room suggesting a lot of bondage at play, even if Sandor did not know the use of the hard benches and big crosses, one of which was standing upright against a wall with manacles dangling from it.

Hellfire…

Sandor sucked in a breath, forced to his knees, his arms wrenched above his head and, finally, to his fury, bound. A pair of steel manacles dropped around his wrists as he grasped and grabbed at them – though they would only open with a key, so there was no point in him trying to break them with fingers alone.

“Hey! What in the realm do you think you're doing?" He spat, fear making his tongue loose, spitting words he wouldn't have if he had been comfortable and not in a place where he felt he had to fight. “This… No! No, I'm not going to take any of this."

“Let us go," Swiftwolf said quietly, though he did not have as much fury in him as Sandor, his head tipping down, chin slanted. “We don't want any trouble, we're not going to be good for you here. I'll disappoint clients, I won't be helpful…"

The stag laughed, bringing in more trainers: all prey animals. There were four of them in total, including the stag, the others being a squirrel, a waterbuck, a ring-tailed lemur and a goldfinch. It was strange to see an avian around and Sandor would have been more interested in the goldfinch, a type of songbird with a beak designed for eating small fruits and similar, if he had not been tied and left in a very open, compromising position.

“Oh, we'll train you. And if you think you have any choice in the matter at all, I'm afraid to tell you that you're very sorely mistaken."

The stag pointed at them.

“Prepare the trainees. A good butt plug should start them off well. After all, they'll be lifting those slutty tails soon enough, begging to be stuffed full of cock."

Sandor yelped, eyes wide, wrenching at his chains – but someone had already moved in, the waterbuck, and locked a spreader bar, with matching manacles, around his ankles, preventing him from getting up from where he had been forced to kneel.

“Wait – no!"

But he couldn't do anything about it as a large butt plug – well, to Sandor it looked huge – was oiled up with whatever lubricant it was that the brothel used, glistening darkly. He screamed and snarled and snapped but it was hardly any trouble at all for the antelope to keep him in place, merely placing his knee strategically over the spreader bar, between the fox's ankles, to pin him back. Sandor could jerk his chest around as much as he liked but the short length of chain hanging from the bondage beam in the training room made it so he didn't have all that much range of motion.

“Unff… No…"

He whined, grunting, twisting, trying to fight back in any way that he could as the first plug was forced into his backside with only the lightest coating of lube. He didn't need any more than that and his hole strained and stretched, a ragged howl breaking his lips.

“Oh, keep quiet or else we'll just gag you," the waterbuck advised, his large ears twitching, though he seemed to have very little patience with the slaves. “Actually, a ring gag for your cock sucking training… Hm…"

The waterbuck ground the plug in deep so the fox's tail hole clenched down on the narrowest point, a flared base stopping the toy from being sucked completely inside him. The fox whined, bucking his hips, his cock throbbing, even though it was soft and refused to get hard.

“Unff… Hell… No…"

“Oh, is that all the fight you've got?" The waterbuck smirked, his horns appearing more foreboding than ever when Sandor was down on his knees before him. “Here you go, open up, bitch."

Sandor quivered and snapped, though the antelope managed to get his fingers into the corner of his mouth and wrenched his jaws open. In the next moment, a gag was shoved in there, big and ring-like, as if something more was going to be shoved in. He growled, but he couldn't fight back more than that as the gag was effectively strapped in place, locking around his muzzle and the back of his head. He doubted he would have even been able to rub it off on anything if he had been free to do so, his heart beating a dull rhythm against his eardrums.

Da-dum, da-dum, da-dum, da-dum.

_ _

It was too quick, much too quick, but there was nothing at all that the fox could hope to do about it, his stomach churning, nausea rising. He drooled thickly around the gag, humiliated by the mess he made, the stink of his own saliva sinking into his fur.

“You are a whore," the waterbuck said, presenting a long, fleshy, pink length of cock to Sandor's muzzle as if it was nothing at all. “Something to be used. Something to be taken. There is no better place for you other than on the bottom rung of the brothel, serving everyone and anyone that seeks to claim you."

“Mmmph… Rrrnnnfff…"

Sandor tried to talk around the gag, but, of course, he could not. That did not stop him from trying, the tiniest tear building in the corner of his eye where he hoped the slave trainers would not see.

The waterbuck fed his cock into his mouth and Sandor gagged, hacking and coughing, though the antelope only rolled his eyes, grinding his dick down on to the fox's tongue.

“Really, I haven't even pushed into the back of your throat yet…"

The fox heaved, but he had to stay there, had to take it, the true horror of his situation sinking in. He was useless, helpless – not yet broken. Yet where was the hope and where was the idea that some manner of escape would be possible?

“Nnnggghhh…"

He tried closing his eyes against the cock sliding over his soft, flexible tongue, hating the feel of it, how it even seemed a little slimy with pre-cum. Yet the antelope did the work for him and his cock was slender enough to thrust into the ring and into his mouth, using him just as the antelope pleased.

He didn't have to think, even as he rebelled against it, twisting and bucking, grunting in the back of his throat.

“Unff…"

No… No, he wouldn't let them break him. He didn't want anything to do with them, his mind shutting down, trying its best to take him away to another time and place. In his mind's eye, he was in a meadow, lying down with his sweet doe-taur, though he couldn't imagine her even wanting to see him anymore once she learned of what had happened.

But he would get out, he would explain things to her. Things would be okay, as long as he didn't give in to them, as long as he did not submit.

Swiftwolf fared worse, though they slammed him down over a hard bondage bench with no padding at all, strapping him down around his waist as well as his chest. He couldn't even squirm, growling as he bared his teeth, but they held out a dildo to his muzzle with a smirk instead.

“Here…" The goldfinch said, fluttering his feathers as he ground the toy into the wolf's muzzle. “You're going to have to learn to suck, cock slut."

“Gggrrrrffff…"

He grunted, but there was already a cock in his mouth, even if it was a toy. They did not trust him to not bite down, of course, and he gnashed his teeth into the toy, grinding them into the toy, even though it was made of a material that could not be damaged or even sliced through by teeth alone. That didn't stop him trying, even as they crushed his tongue into the base of his mouth between his teeth, panting and heaving, straining to breathe.

Yes… Yes, he still had to breathe, even through it.

“Now… Suck it. Purse your lips, all the way around the dildo, smoothly now. No teeth. You'll be punished if you use teeth and our clients don't like that either, no. Best give up on that now, dog, because cock sucking is going to be your primary role here."

The bird laughed, his pretty red, black and brown head lifting sharply as he chirped. The sweet sound did not at all match with his brand of cruelty.

“Nnngghhhhffff…"

Swiftwolf growled, yet…it just kept going. He tried to turn away, his tail wrenched up, something cold pressed to his backside, though the enormous dildo grinding up under his tail was not lubricated at all. They didn't need that for him, no, not as they sought to break their bitch.

“Unff…"

“Do you want relief, dog slut?" The goldfinch said, though the squirrel had come in too, handling the anal penetration while the bird took care of teaching him to deep throat the dildo. “Tell us what a bitch you are, that you are nothing more than a dog slave who needs to be fucked."

“Nnnggghh…" He panted heavily as he got the dildo out of his mouth, pushing it roughly with his tongue, though the avian allowed it. “I…will never… I'm a wolf. I'll…always be a wolf."

“Aw, so sorry. That's the wrong answer."

“Aaaawwwwoooooooooo!"

The wolf howled as the fat length of cock was rammed up under his tail, working back and forth roughly and crudely, though he had done his best to relax and allow his body to work through the initial penetration. Wolves were a proud species, after all, and Swiftwolf knew his position. He could fight and fight and there was nothing they could do about that, snarling, snapping, gasping as tears built in the corners of his eyes.

“Unnnfff… No… I'm a wolf… Agh!"

They only punished him harder for that, though his cock, of course, had not got hard at all during the course of anything. It was not what he wanted, not as sick twists of humiliation curled into his stomach, feeling quite as if they were wrapping around his organs, digging into the core of his being. Yet he had to hold on, even though the dildo was huge, straining his burning arsehole wide, so very wide.

He grunted and heaved, stomach roiling. No, no, no… No, he had to hold on. Yet there was Sandor, just about visible around the goldfinch's feathers, sucking on an antelope's cock, though he seemed to have something in his mouth that forced him to keep his jaws parted. There was no one using his tail hole, however, even though it was free.

He didn't know whether that was a good thing, or if it meant the fox was going to endure even more abuse. The wolf's head spun, his whole body aching, muscles tensing and convulsing, bucking and pushing viciously against his bonds. He barely even moved an inch in any direction, for they had tied him too well, his ankles lashed to the bondage board, tied down tightly.

“Unff… Wolf… Urrfff…"

“Alright, back in the dildo gag goes then."

He didn't know what the dildo was made of, however, as he worked it back and forth, teasing it over the dog's tongue just to show him where his place was. Swiftwolf, after all, would have to learn after every other slave there.

They were all the same to the trainers there, of course, and the clients only cared about who they fucked, what they got to fuck. They were all commodities, something to be used.

If they cared about who they fucked, they would have wined and dined a suitable partner, regardless of their orientation. But they didn't.

And that was where the slaves came into play too.

He tried to groan out around the dildo that he was a wolf, that he would always be a wolf, but it muffled his cries.

“Nnnnffff… Mmmnnggghhh…"

He couldn't get anywhere, however, and was forced to bear through it, his eyes watering from the brutal pounding of his tail hole. He tried to detach himself from it, as if he was floating somewhere else, in another reality, yet he clung on to the moment, his power, his strength, his muscle, remembering who he was.

It was the only thing that would keep him sane. Especially as they locked his cock away in a chastity device, stuffing the softness of it into the tight cage, which kept his flaccid dick tucked down, pointing down, trapped from any sense of pleasure. It was by the by for the wolf: it was not as if he would have wanted to be allowed to experience pleasure, however. He didn't want to get off, every fibre of his being reeling from the experience.

Sandor didn't get hard either, grunting, groaning, the antelope not cumming down his throat but swapping to the lemur. He let his lips hang loosely, trying to curl his tongue away from the cock in his mouth. It was a little shorter and fatter than the antelope's cock, the lemur's tail flicking back and forth as if he couldn't hold back his excitement even at something like that.

“Rrrfff… Nnnggghhh…"

He was a fox, always a fox. He wouldn't submit, he'd hold on to who he was. Sandor shuddered, flinching from the cold, hard touch of a chastity device sliding over his cock, almost feeling too large for him, but that was just due to his cock shrinking a little in fear and the chill of the room. Even though he was sweating, he was colder than he'd ever been, panting heavily, eyes wide and glassy.

Born a whore… Why do they think that?

_ _

No… No, they were wrong about him, very wrong. It was all fucked up, so fucked up. They could have their species stereotypes as much as they liked, but he didn't have to play into them in the slightest, twisting his head back and forth to the tiny extent that he was allowed, the lemur's dick ploughing into the inside of his cheek. Sandor grunted and gagged, eyes streaming with moisture, though he would not have called them tears, no.

No… Never tears. He was better than that, stronger than that.

The plug strained against his tail hole, but it was not the last. For, during their training, they were stimulated and forced, shown how to suck cocks and taught how to grind back properly on a dick while they were being fucked too. The trainers, at that time, only used toys on their tail holes, keeping them stretched and prepared, though the ring gags could keep their mouths open if they ever had any concern about teeth coming in contact with their cocks. There were even rubber mouth guards that were moulded to their teeth, covering every last one of them, teaching the slaves to hold their mouths open.

If they did not obey…they were denied. Sandor had not thought of how hard he wanted orgasm before, not before his cock was locked up. They brought in more predatory species to train them, as the days passed, tossed back into the dorms when they were done with training for the day, and Sandor's heart skipped a beat at the big stallion, the lion, the tiger with a lashing tail that could have been hypnotising.

No…

_ _

No, he couldn't let himself be swayed by that, aching for release the more it was denied to him. They showed him how his prostate could be stimulated, using toys with a light curve to them and their fingers, until he bucked and grunted as he shoved his body, haplessly, back on to them.

How could they make him want it all so much? It was beyond Sandor's comprehension, for he had always been very vanilla in his sexual inclinations so far in life, enjoying what he enjoyed and worrying about very little at all. Yet a finger teasing his prostate had his cock twitching and leaking, though even that pre-cum was different to before, waterier and dripping back into the cage, slickening around his dick.

The bondage furniture was used for them too, strapped up to an X-frame or left dangling from a strategically placed O-ring in the ceiling, forced to the brink of physical defeat as the trainers tried to break them more and more.

Yet the slaves proved resilient, despite the dildos and chastity cages and the times where a kind word was offered, a caress, a touch. That was worse than the pain, the strain, the ache of needing to cum and not being permitted to, always kept on the edge.

Yet their education would not break them, they resolved, hunkering down together after the owners and trainers left them alone, though the other slaves gave them a wide berth. After all, they'd all been in their place before. They'd all thought they could fight back, that they could do better, that they would be the ones to break the mould, the special ones.

But the slavers had their ways.

Continued in part two of four…