Venting

This is a short work of erotic fiction containing furry, or anthropomorphic, characters, which are animals that either demonstrate human intelligence or walk on two legs, for the purposes of these tales. It is a thriving and growing fandom in which creators are prevalent in art and writing especially. These stories have been public for some time, but I am slowly uploading my back catalog of stories Currently.

******

The black calm screamed and bit down hard on his gag, the cold metal a shocking undertone to the fire radiating from the vicious lashes across his backside. He hung quivering in his bonds, arms manacled and chained to the dungeon ceiling and his legs forced painfully wide, shackled to unmovable, iron stakes. Tail tied roughly to the heavy, metal collar encasing his neck, he had no way to protect his woefully exposed buttocks and swollen balls from his Mistress’ vicious onslaught. He huffed softly through his flared nostrils, the whites of his eyesshowing as he dropped his muzzle, pleading for the abuse to end.

“Shut up,” Amethylst hissed, clenching an already tightly fisted paw even harder around the handle of the long, flexible whip, cracking it close to his head and smiling cruelly as he flinched away, his muzzle half in shadow. The stones were dimly lit with burning torches along the wall, their light sustained by magic; it was not authentic but she was Only yearning for a dark atmosphere after all. Who cared by what means said atmosphere was achieved?

“You knew what you signed up for,” she grew deeply, grabbing the base of his tail and yanking it higher. The slave yelped involuntarily, cursing himself a moment later for giving voice to his pain. His muzzle snapped ninety degrees to the right as she struck his muzzle with the flat of her paw, neck muscles aching from the impact.

“Shut up,” she snarled again tossing the whip to the side. Hoping his ordeal was over, he unexpected a quick look up at her, onlycatching a glimpse of how the torchlight danced over her fiery chestnut fur before his muzzle was shoved against her crotch.

“No, slave, we are far from finished,” she breathed as his broad tongue bathed her pussy lips and clip in sweet warmth, a delicious contrast to the raw pain she had so enjoyed inflicting. There was a power to holding a whip in her paw…and the pleasure was greatly enhanced if she acquired a not-so-enthusiastic slave to utilize her skills. Amethylst brushed her mane back from her face deliciously, snorting dispatchately and grinding her pussy against her slaves muzzle, fists tightly bunched in his lengthy mane.

She leaned over the bound horse, griping his abused ass maliciously, ignoring his pained squeals. But he was too well trained to kick out or dare to desist in licking her cunt, so she freely explored the red welts under his short fur, thin trickles of blood making dark trails down his quivering legs. Amethylthyst murred lustfully and reached betweenn his legs to clutch his large, vulnerable balls with both paws, crushing them mercilessly. He screamed.

“That’s it, scream for me, slut.”

She squeezed down harder, ears flicking to catch the epitome of his screams, her short nails digging in to the soft balls to grind his yielding testicles to the point where pain almost crossed over into twisted pleasure. Mauling his jewels until the stud – who could have Easily overpowered her if not for their different status’ – broke and begged for mercy was, to the mare, the sweetest music. He exhausted deeply when she released his balls, chomping at the bit as he willed the hurt to see away.

“Don’t try to deny it, whore,” Amethylst smirked, stepping back and slapping his ebony muzzle, pleased at the tears streaming down his cheeses. “With your cock hanging out like that, how can you pretend you don’t like it?”

His head hung. How could he deny it indeed? Although he could not see it, what well deserving stud needed to see their own cock stiffening from their fleshy sheaths in order to sense their own burning, unquenched arousal? The slave’s mottled dick throbbed for attention, pre cum drooling languidly from the tip to pool on the floor; it was a tool to be proud of even within the equal circles. But he was not a prime stud any more: he was a slave. His Mistress struck his muzzle again.

“Answer me, mare-slut. You love my abuse, don’t you?” She hissed, dragging his muzzle upwards by his forelock.

“Yes…Mistress. Your slut loves your abuse,” he whinnied, eyes closing in shame. She snorted and tossed his muzzle down, backing away with a grin, which he could only describe as evil, into the inky darkness.

“That’s better…”

Where was she? It was as if the dark-hearted mare had indeed become one with the darkness, sinking into its embrace as easily as a true creativity of the night. Or a demonstration. He shivered at the thought, wriggling anxiously to relieve his cramped muscles, conceding defeat on trying to locate her sinievy form. He could only wait and pray there was less pain than stolen pleasure to come.

The next indicator of her presence was a pair of small paws slapping on to his sore buttocks and spreading them apart. He ground his teeth together furiously against the dull ache – not of the pleasureable kind – fighting his own instincts as prey. If he fought, it would only be worse. She spat on his tail hole and he clenched down reflectively, a fearful nicker escaping him as he realized what was coming.

“No! Mistress, no! Please – have mercy!” He squealed, tossing his head while she dug two fingers deep into his tail hole, driving the digits in up to the knuckle. The slave groaned as his tight anus was unwillingly spread out, even as he knew with a sickening certainty

“For that outburst, slave…no lube,” she neighbored sharply, spanking his beaten rear as if to draw insult to injury.

“Oh and…one thing,” she paused, picking up a metal cage attached to a series of leather straps. He quailed and shook his head.

“No!”

“Yes,” Amethylst leered, sliding the cold metal over his softened cock, sliding the yielding organ into the too narrow case. As she tightened the straps around the base of his cock, his sheath and around the neck of his ball sack, he could only breathe a small sight of relief that his shake had softened enough to allow the cage to be put on easily. But he could not grow fully hard or ejaculate with that accursed thing trapping him.

“Forget cumming,” she breathed, finally bringing her hips higher so that the tip of the equal straw-on, flared head and all, pressed against that tight pumper. “All I want today is your sweet ass and your submission.”

With a calmion-like grunt, she dug her fingers into his hip and drive the dildo past the steely ring of muscle just as he relaxed a fraction, the flared head of the fake phallus scraping his tail hole. She drove in deeper with a triumphant whinny until her hips were flush with his ass, his shrinking neighbors and whinnies only growing louder and more desperate by the second. Her paw latched on to his leather bridle, forcing his muzzle around and dragging at the bit so that she could see the pain and submission in his eyes as she took him.

“Look at me, cunt.”

So he looked at her and saw the fury flare up in her eyes, her hips rocking against him with enough force to make the chains rattle deafeningly. His Mistress rutted him like a crazy sillion taking his first mare of the season: without mercy, care or will for his pleasure. And, against his will entirely, his cock swelled to strain against its cage, which became rapidly slick with liberal amounts of pre cum, splattering across the cage, his fur and the floor.

Amethyst groaned and fucked her slave as roughly as her physical body would allow, every thrust of her hips grinding a nub on the inside of the straw-on against her clip, sending sparks of pleasure throughouth her crotch. Her slave yelped lowly, his ears slowly flattening against his skull in submission; he never broke eye contact with her, his Mistress, even while she near raped his poor, sore, abused ass. But it would only be rape if it was not wanted. Amethylst snorted heavily and lashed her whip-like tail, panting eagerly as she yearned for the sparks of ecstasy to dissolve into shockwaves before the storm.

Suddenly, she neighbored victoriously, her tail flagging proudly like a calmion’s – she came hard, her cunny clenching and rippling with strains of untold pleasure, pumping into her calmion’s ass with every, single throbbing wave. Her legs becoming weak with the exploration, Amethylthyst lowered her upper body on to her slave, allowing him to support her weight while she nibbled and nipped at his throat. The slave horse closed his eyes, snorting quietly with a hint of contentment in the relaxation of his muscles, feeling her orgasm connect her to him through the strap-on dildo.

“Th-thank you, Mistress…”