Slaves and Studs Pt. 02

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.

All characters in all of my stories are over eighteen and legal adults in all sexual situations.

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Slaves and Studs

Part Two

Continued from part one.

The private show, of course, took place at the same facility but on the very top floor where there was no one to overlook them through the windows that spanned the entire length of two walls, the room large and rectangular. A bar was present but those attending were often too distracted to drink, a long staging area flanking one wall that was not taken up by mirrors. Everything about the area oozed elegance and opulence and it was clear that there was no shortage of money in the slaver's facility, his earnings going back into it to show off just how high up he considered himself to be in the world. When it came to The Engineer, of course, Boglan had a very different opinion about the snickering hyena who just about always seemed to be on the edge of rubbing his paws together with glee.

The main stage was a circular ensemble placed in the very centre of the room, surrounded by tables as if it was a much tamer sort of show to be enjoyed while partaking in dinner. There was no dinner or food of that kind to be had, however, and Boglan surveyed it all with a canny eye, noting just where The Engineer had skimped on the quality of the tablecloths, some too short for the tables that they were covering, although the extra space near the floor and the legs of the tables would only be noticed by those who were truly discerning.

He's sloppy.

Nothing that Boglan did or thought came without an air of certainty, knowing exactly where he was and what he was doing, and it was that that had sent him up so high in the world, his knowledge sometimes playing second fiddle. Yet he doubted that anyone else would care about such a small detail as tablecloths. Pressing his lips together, though not making a harder line with them, the boar exhaled quietly. To him, detail was everything.

He'd had his house slaves prepare Marcus for the event and he was led in behind Boglan on the end of a polished, well-oiled leather leash. The subtle display of wealth, again, was evident in the stitching and the high-quality of the hide, the clip on the end silver where it attached to the O-ring of the bull's collar. His collar that time, however, was a chunky leather almost as large as a posture collar, allowing him a very small amount of freedom and flexibility while still reminding him just who he was. A slave did not own anything he wore and even the leather harness slipped around his torso and down to the bull's midsection belonged to his master, showing off the goods rather than allowing Marcus to have any agency at all in his attire or manner of dress.

Boglan could have grown to see Marcus as another fur but, alas, that was not the way of him. As he had always been excellent at separating his personal life from work, he was just as good at separating another anthro from a slave, the two of them far from equal. That was the way of it and it was hardly a status quo that the wealthy boar had any interest at all in changing when it was something that, already in his life, had served him so very well.

That was not the end of the bull's appearance, however, as he shifted his weight comfortably back onto the rear side of his cloven hooves, lips ever so slightly parted. His tail hung loosely, tufted with a little red hair, though it was the definition of his muscles that truly stood out under the harness, gleaming with a touch of oil that had been painted on strategically by other household slaves before he had been led from his master's home. No one would be able to tell that he was anything other than perfectly natural, though the low, tasteful light of the private gallery did wonders for showing him off from his very best angles too. If he'd been a vainer sort, he would have puffed up his chest proudly to know that but, right then and there, all he could do was keep one eye on his master, looking out for the next order to come. Obedience, after all, was all that he had going for him.

"Sir, if you would come this way."

A staff member dressed as a waiter, though he was surely better paid than such, bowed and led Boglan and Marcus to a table with an excellent view of the main stage and the side-staging area, which was destined to be populated very soon. There was only one seat there and Boglan took it as Marcus waited, watching for the signal.

There. The boar's eyes dropped and Marcus obediently folded his knees, dropping to the ground by his side as he exhaled softly. He'd caught the cue at just the right moment and his master smiled minutely, though it was enough for Marcus to know that he'd done just the right thing. It was a small sense of pride and, of course, achievement too for him to come so far in his training but some part of him still hoped against hope that his master would never tire of him. He knew that there were worse lives out there for a slave and his was not all that bad.

Boglan's paw idly dropped to the bull's cock, his seat allowing him easy reach as Marcus shuffled in closer, submitting to his master as he had done for so long already. Nothing could have seemed more natural as other masters and buyers entered, some with their own slaves too, although there were none there that were as good as his. Boglan smirked to himself, letting an alcoholic beverage wet the back of his throat and harden his nerve, the night only just beginning as he looked over the gathered slaves on the staging area down the length of one wall.

They didn't all have to be in bondage but the accumulation of leather and latex and rope certainly tickled his fancy as he sat there partaking in top-shelf vodka, anything that was hard to come by and to his taste. If a drink didn't suit him, he merely set it aside for the wait-staff while he enjoyed the slaves, the view something too to be drunk in and slowly savoured.

They may not have all been to his taste, of course, but they were something indeed and something to enjoy. Ten of them, to begin, were lined up, although some were carried in or wheeled in on flat-bed trolleys, already bound for the enjoyment of the guests. An okapi's daring stripes stood out from the crowd of them and he took the middle position on the stage, hog-tied with his arms and legs tugged up as if to meet in the centre of his back, although he was not quite that flexible. His cock had been tucked down and away, considering his position, and one could have even considered that the slaver had been considerate in locking up his shaft in a chastity cage. It surely would not remain but that was for those conducting the show to decide.

That wasn't in line with Boglan's inclinations, however, and Marcus immediately picked out the one slave over there that would have been of the most interest to him, if not for the dragon that was still to come. He was a hunk of a zebra that claimed attention even though he was on his knees, forced to sit back on a dildo with a chain connecting the manacles around his wrists to an O-ring in his stage. He could pull away, a little, but would be forced over the course of the display and the night to sit down on it more and more, groaning softly in the back of his throat, although Marcus' ears were sensitive enough to catch it.

Sweat gleamed on his hide as he was forced to take it, a brutal length of toy driving up under his tail, a passing staff member slapping his arse lewdly, though that only made him contract around it, a rippling pulse. The zebra's breath caught as if he could not breathe, if only for a moment, and he tried with all his might to pull away, the chain shortening a notch as the wicked ring that it was attached to cranked back into the stage. Down and down, it drew him, forcing his back into a seductive arch, though there was so much more to be had as he sweated heavily, his hide gleaming, begging the attention of wanton paws.

Waiting outside, Shane was privy to none of that, the lead-up to the main event building the crowd's lust for what was to come. Yet he was there and he pushed back against the pressure on his mind, leaning into it, growling softly, though the staff member holding his leash did not take him seriously. The dragon was nearly broken anyway. What did he have to worry about there? Shane grunted, straining and fighting, his mind swirling with emotions unlike anything that he had ever taken on before. But his time as a slave had rendered him such that memories no longer came so easily, his mind but a fog, whimpering as he tried to push back against it. His tail ached and throbbed to pull down, to cover his tail hole, but he should have well enough learned that resistance was futile as sweat poured from his hide, making him look quite as if he was oiled up, slick and ready for action, a slave in the prime of his life.

The dragon shuddered bodily. No... No, he couldn't push back anymore. Where was he again? It didn't seem right, it didn't seem real, tail shaking against the restraints, pushing and pulling, though all he did was sink down and down and down onto that huge dildo, stretching him open. With eyes on him that he could not see, blinking through streams of sweat, his musk hanging about him, all Shane could do was groan and pray for it all to be over soon.

Marcus strained to see but it was just about visible in the low light that a placard had been placed before each slave on the side-stage to denote their best features. Of course, cock size was the first on each list, which was one of the things that those looking for pleasure slaves were the most interested in. They could be changed, of course, if a master liked the rest of a slave but not his cock, but that was a procedure in itself and something that most avoided taking on due to the recovery time involved. Better to find a product on show that best suited their needs right from the get-go.

A hyena on the end must have particularly set The Engineer on edge, although he was smaller and slighter with a black Mohawk that seemed to have been styled into a sort of crest, a black latex jockstrap giving him a more athletic air even though it was fetish that rang through most strongly.

"Gentlefurs, do I have a show for you tonight!"

The Engineer approached the main stage, flanked by two horses that could have been brothers or could have merely have had their coats dyed to match. A pure black with thick feather around their fetlocks, long, flowing manes and tails and, finally, a white blaze on each of their muzzles, they were near enough identical but for their collars, which were heavy, fine-quality metal set with precious jewels. They could have been better suited to a lady's slave but there was something about seeing slaves dressed up in a master's finery too that stirred the loins of many a prospective buyer. Despite his attitude, The Engineer knew his job well and how to put on a show.

He grinned, spreading his arms wide, his slaves instantly dropping to their knees on the stage without even an order coming from his lips. So in-tune were they that The Engineer had to acknowledge it, lest he appear out of place to the gathered crowd of clients, eyeing up the closest of the two slaves as if he had actually managed to surprise him.

"Good boys."

The praise came with a harsh snap to it, although perhaps the words could have been softened if coming from the lips of a master that did not simply see them as commodities passing through his establishment. He had to be distant from them but they were lesser than the hyena too, kneeling with their heads lowered, obedient to a fault and putting some of his very best conditioning work on full display.

"Now, if the fine gent before us will hand over his slave, we can begin with the main part of the show!"

Boglan stiffened subtly, all eyes on him. The hyena wasn't hanging around one bit, was he? But he hardly expected him to hold back, knowing what he wanted and, really, his slave's talents were something special indeed.

The boar sighed and waved a paw, handing off Marcus like an object even as he called for another drink.

"Show me what he can do."

Whether he meant Marcus or Shane, who was being led in at that very moment, a leather collar around his neck that was tightened just enough to put a little too much pressure on his throat. The dragon looked one way and then the other, his expression anything but calm and controlled like the well-trained stallion slaves on the stage with the hyena, but he had no option as his hind paws kept moving, one after the other.

What was wrong with him? Why couldn't he fight back? What was wrong with him? Ah, those traitorous thoughts could not be tolerated as his vision wavered, not quite fading but lending him a sense that his reality was not actually his reality any more. He could have fought but, oh, where was the sense in that?

Give in.

You don't have to fight.

Do what you're told.

You wanted this.

Did he? Yes... Yes. Maybe. Yes. Shane gulped in lungful after lungful of breath, his chest tight even as it bulged with muscle. He still looked like himself as he looked down but his cock being hard out in public did not register with him as he exhaled in a snort, a puff of breath forced out through his nostrils while he should have, really, kept it in a little longer. The more he breathed, the more his life continued on, the conditioning sinking in more and more as the grand finale of all that they wanted him to be was laid out before him, his feet hitting the main stage.

He sensed eyes on him but, really, that was everyone. Everyone was looking at him, everyone and anyone that came by. Why did they stare? Didn't they know that he was a dragon too? Not just a slave? Everyone was there and looking at him and he should have expected that, truly, even though Shane thought there was something more to it. But a slave wasn't meant to think, just do, and the thoughts that there was something not quite right there teased away from him more and more, one after the other slipping through his fingers like water.

He sweated, burning up from the inside out, all sense of himself slipping away. He could not fight, only feel - could only feel just what his enslavers wanted him to feel. That was the way of it even as his muscles bulged, straining, fighting, pulling. His body knew what it was to be even as his mind crumbled before the will of another, greater, being. The dragon's head jerked, resisting the pull of the slaver, everything about him put on ardent display, loathing being there even as some part of him leaned keenly into it, every part of him in conflict with another.

And there was that big, blue bull from before, the one that he'd only actually been able to take in while he'd been walking away, although Shane could not quite remember what had happened before. His memories were fuzzy but something in him pulled to the bull, licking his lips in a lash of pink tongue without thinking as his cock throbbed and pulsed, a gleam of pre-cum marking the tip, betraying his ardent arousal. It felt right to be there, the fat length gleaming with his own pre-cum, although it almost shone all the way down the length too as if he had already lubricated the entire length of his shaft. But he didn't remember that, as much as his chest shuddered with each and every breath, head turning back and forth as if Shane thought he could suss out just what was happening if only he looked for the answer.

There was no answer coming to him, however, as The Engineer stepped back, the hyena that had dominated his every waking thought and fallen dream (they were more like nightmares) holding up his paw to quiet the murmurs of the crowd. In his current state of mind, however, Shane did not realise that they were appreciative of his presentation, his cock out and ready, lips even parted as if he was readying himself to take something even thicker than him deeply up into his muzzle. He could part his jaws, suck it down, moan around it, tongue slurping and lapping and...

Shane trembled. Was that really him? Was that his mind? Why did he want it so badly? Never before had the thought of a dick in his mouth filled him with such joyous lust, knees quaking and shaking at the mere thought of slipping down and down and down into something far more comfortable than a standing stance. It was, after all, just where he belonged.

The slaver smirked and took centre stage, dominating the room as Boglan, dispassionately, watched. His eyes, of course, were more for the slaves on show than the bawdy hyena. He would do better to close his mouth from time to time, surely.

"First off... The bull can show us just how to properly adorn a slave that is being put forward for demonstration." The Engineer smirked. "I mean, really... He's got a collar but what else tells us that he is but a slave? We can do better than this, can't we, my friends?"

The crowd laughed and called out suggestions, although they were not in the manner of jeers, flowing into one another and weaving into a light banter of cries.

"A harness!"

"Gag him!"

"Oh, I do enjoy clamps."

"Get him tied down!"

"Ahhh... So many choices!"

The hyena grinned and shook his head, eyes locking with Marcus'. That in itself should not have happened and the bull immediately looked down submissively, unwilling to appear at all insubordinate as his heart pounded, all eyes on him and the dragon that were, apparently, destined to be put on show in one of the very best of ways.

Just the one though. There were too many, truly, for him to otherwise count for himself.

Marcus panted lightly, his mind filtering through the cacophony of noise. He'd become well-used to working out where a command lay in the midst of so much more, slotting a ball gag clinically into the dragon's muzzle. Shane leaned into it submissively, surprising even himself, and the harness around his torso seemed to be typical fare for the slaves there. A jockstrap would have gone nicely on him if not for the fact that his shaft was hard and ready, though the harness came all the way down to his midsection, just above his lower abdomen, fixed with silver rings that would allow him to be hooked up and locked into any other bondage too that those around him could have wanted to see.

His paws, of course, could not have remained free, although the bull half had to wrestle to get the dragon's paws behind his back. He was just that muscled, shoulders straining, flexibility still to be had as Shane grunted and yet, somehow, did not protest. Dimly, in the back of his mind, he was aware that he should have done something about it, but he was already drooling far too much around the ball gag to feel as if he had any say at all in what was happening to him, tail even twitching up to invitingly expose the puckered tightness of his tail hole.

Shane's biceps bulged as he was strained into bondage, pulled back into position, his pecs on show, glistening wantonly. Every inch of him gleamed and Marcus himself could not help but smile as he was allowed to toy with Shane, his own mind broken down as his underarms moistened with the heat of the liaison, everything coming through in stark, stringent heat, heart pounding. Even if he had not been a slave, the bull may very well have tried his luck on with him, running his paws down his hide, his scales glistening with the trickle of sweat, cock hard and aching.

"Such a fine specimen... You don't get a product like this every day. Finely muscled, energy to burn. He'll go all night and, my... Would you like to see just how far his tail hole with stretch, gents? Oh, I know you do!"