Road Tail
Hey everyone: A pretty tame submission compared to my past works. I'm not too proud of this one, but it is what it is. As always, comments are appreciated, votes are great, and I'll be getting back into the writing flow soon.
As always, if you are under 18, or if this is illegal in your city/state/country/province/parish please do not read. Do not come looking for me with pitchforks and torches, for mine are bigger, sharper, and flamier.
Road Tail
by Delcan Xavier
Derek looked up as he heard someone enter the tour bus, turning his head towards the closed bedroom door. He held his breath, the feat made much easier by the ball-gag wedged firmly in his muzzle, and perked his ears so that he could hear better. It wouldn't do for a fan to see him in his current condition. They might scream, run, and try to fetch the authorities. Another option is that they might be so fanatical about the band that they would harm him for finding him back here. The third option would be that they might use him, and he would have no power to stop them. Of the three options, the second one seemed the likeliest.
The steps coming towards him were heavy, purposeful, and direct. They were the steps of someone who felt they belonged here, no stopping every few feet to lift up a discarded shirt of try to sneak a glass or take a photo as a souvenir. That helped ease Derek's mind a little, but the wolf was still concerned that it might be someone else, a manager or a roadie or someone else. The jingle of keys made him clench his paws into fists, balling up some of the used bedsheets underneath him.
The door slid open, and a tall otter stood in the doorway. He was quite muscular, as being a drummer required a certain amount of upper body strength, but it was all lean muscle. Out of the quartet, he was probably the one who worked out the most while on stage. Keith looked down at the wolf, letting out a heavy sigh. He crossed the small bedroom, reaching into his vest and producing a small ring of what looked like handcuff keys.
Kneeling beside the naked, bound up wolf, the otter reached underneath him and located the cock ring that had been firmly clamped on his sheath before the band left to go perform. That was hours ago, and aside from the fear that it would turn blue and fall off, Derek hadn't really minded the accessory. Still, it was a relief knowing that he would finally had blood flowing properly down there. There was a small clink, and it felt like the wolf's entire lower regions had been released. He let out a small moan around the gag, letting his forehead fall onto the bedsheets.
"They really did a number on you," Keith muttered, more to himself than to the wolf kneeling in front of him. "Don't move."
That last command must have been more for his benefit than Derek's, since it was still impossible for Derek to move. His wrists had been cuffed together and locked to his collar, letting him only grab the bedsheets for support. His ankles were still locked into a spreader bar, and there was still a black butt plug lodged firmly in his used, cum-covered tailhole. In an emergency, he probably could have moved, but it would have been terribly uncomfortable and humiliating.
Keith returned a short time later with a jar of baby wipes. They must have been for his convenience, since none of the males in the band had any kids. Derek blushed a bit when he felt the otter lift his tail out of the way. There was a cool, gentle padding on his rump as the drummer started to remove the leftover remains of the band's previous playtime with their newest toy. The wolf let out another whimpering moan, causing the otter to pause. There was a slight pressure on the back of Derek's head as the buckle to the ball gag was undone, and the red orb came free.
Keith sat back as Derek panted heavily for a few minutes, getting his first decent breaths of the night. The wolf sent the otter a thankful look, still unable to find his voice, and the otter just nodded politely before resuming the cleaning duties. There was another pressure, this time underneath the canine's tail as he felt the plug get pushed in a little deeper before finally getting pulled free with a wet squelch. The latex plug looked about as bad as one might imagine, and Keith set it aside for cleaning later.
The cool, wet rags went into Derek's stretched passage, courtesy of Keith's index finger. The wolf arched his back and clenched the bedsheets in pleasure at the feeling. He always thought the best part of getting dirty was the cleaning up afterward, and he was plenty dirty. It came with the territory of being the yifftoy of a quartet of horny males.
Derek worked the rag deep into the wolf, trying to take it easy on him. It wasn't as hard as he thought, the plug had kept the wolf open pretty wide, wide enough to easily accommodate his finger and the baby wipe. The rag came out covered in semen, the wetness of the rag rehydrating the cum and causing the room to fill with the combined musks of the four band members. The effect was immediate on the pair, but only really visible on Derek. Even though he had spent three hours with an almost painful erection, the scents of the males drove it back up. He wasn't allowed to climax before, as his balls painfully reminded him.
Or his balls ached because the bassist had taken such a delight in spanking them. Out of the four, the bassist had the biggest sadistic streak. The cock ring had been his idea, and Derek wondered if any of the other four even knew about it. Either Keith did, or he made a lucky guess. The otter finished up the wolf's backside, then went around to the front.
The area around the canine's muzzle was about as bad as his tailhole was, if not worse. What was lacking in sheer volume was made up for in spread. There was cum on his ears, between his eyes, even on the tip of his nose. The smell only made the previous hours in bondage that much worse, and Derek was even a little thankful that he eventually lost some sensation down below.
Keith carefully dabbed the semen off the Derek's face. Derek sent him another thankful look, but Keith's eyes were elsewhere. Still, there seemed to be a glimmer of pity behind the otter's expression. The smell of semen was quickly replaced by the disinfectant scent of the wipes. The wolf concentrated all his energy into not sneezing, and soon, all of the cum was wiped clean. The keys made a reappearance as the drummer quickly undid the handcuffs, then went around to undo the spreader bar that had kept Derek on his knees for the last three hours.
Finally free of all the contraptions that kept him pinned down, Derek collapsed onto the floor a slightly damp, but clean, pile of naked fur. Keith stood up, and for a moment seemed to contemplate picking him up off the floor. Instead, he just wadded up the last of the wipes. He tossed it at the nearby trash can, wincing a bit when it bounced off the rim and fell to the floor. "Go get yourself something from the cooler."
Derek stood up shakily and nodded, his jaw still sore from the abuse it had suffered earlier. He padded over to the table which served as the dining room and reached underneath for the white plastic treasure chest. He moved slowly, nursing muscles that had long since passed the threshold of stiffness. The icy water made him shiver a bit as he reached inside, grabbing the first cylinder that his paw came in contact with.
Meanwhile, Keith had assumed a position on one of the sofas, resting his chin in his paw and staring off into space. Derek sat down next to him, carefully adjusting his posture to avoid most of the pain from his rump. "Where are the others?" he asked quietly. Keith turned and scowled at him, and Derek backed off until he realized that he was staring at the soda can in the wolf's paw. The otter quickly snatched it back and crossed the bus to the cooler.
"Figures you'd pick up the worst thing for you," he muttered to himself as he threw the soda back into the ice, then rooted around a bit for a bottle of water. He grabbed a banana from the fruit basket on the table, a gift from their manager, and handed them both over to the canine.
"They're at an interview with a local station," he finally answered. "They'll be occupied a couple hours longer."
"And you're not there because?" Derek asked, giving a sour look to the replacement food and drink.
"Because no one wants to talk to the drummer," Keith said with a bit of bitterness in his voice. "Besides, if I didn't come let you out, they would have forgotten all about you."
Keith was definitely the most mature of the band. While the other three were all stuck firmly in the rock-and-roll lifestyle; smoking, snorting, drinking, and humping anything they could get their hands on, Keith managed to keep his head about him. He ate right (or as right as anyone could on the road), only drank in moderation, avoiding cigarettes and drugs completely, and even found time to do a small exercise routine everyday. The others never mocked him about it, though. He always seemed to be in a bad mood, probably because he felt like the only responsible one of the group.
Derek turned the banana over, looking for any brown spots. "Do you have an apple or something?" he asked, not wanting to put anything phallic in his mouth at the moment.
"Just eat it," Keith ordered. "You need the potassium."
Derek sighed and stripped the peel off the banana, starting to lean back in the plush cushions. A sharp pain in his backside made him jerk up straight and give out a little whine. Keith's head whipped around again, his expression changed to one of genuine concern, at least for the moment.
"Are you ok?"
Derek nodded, biting his lip. "Yeah, it's just...well, they were kind of rough this time."
Keith looked down at Derek's swollen testicles and nodded. "I see that. God damn it, Spike." He patted his lap. "C'mon, lay down, get off your ass."
Derek shifted for a second, deciding that it was better to obey the one who had just shown him the only ounce of kindness he had received on this tour. It had been his fondest wish to tour with the band, but he had no idea what it entailed. He was gay, so it didn't really matter to him, and being shared by his favorite rock-and-roll band was something out of one of his darkest fantasies. Still, their treatment of him had gotten worse as of late. They started to see him less as a devoted fan and more as a fuck toy. Spike, the bassist, started out with a spanking fetish that progressed into the testicular abuse he had suffered tonight. Tony, the lead singer, was getting into progressively kinkier stuff. It seemed only a matter of time before one, or all of them, took it too far.
Keith was the only hold out. He seemed to be okay with a simple yiff and go, leaving the other three to visit their desires upon their toy. He was the only one who still addressed him without adding the word: 'bitch' to his sentences. Derek started to gravitate more and more towards Keith, which is perhaps why the others were reacting the way they were. If they lost their toy to Keith, they wanted to make sure they got their kicks in first.
A paw on the side of Derek's face made him jump a little bit, and he looked up. Keith was idly stroking the side of the wolf's muzzle while staring out the window at the lights of the arena beyond. The soft interior lighting of the tour bus drew shadows across Keith's face and made him look older. It wasn't an unattractive look. Derek had always admired the otter more than the others, and not just for his kindness. His fur was softer, sleeker. His muscles had a hardness to them to that others lacked. He smelled better, and even his musk seemed more potent than the rest.
Sitting so near Keith's crotch, even with his nose turned the other direction, Derek couldn't help but smell that musk now. Either it was his imagination, or the scents of the other males were still having an effect on the otter. He shifted a bit, drawing Keith's attention away from his thought and down to the wolf in his lap. While the drummer had the benefit of clothing to hide any potential arousal, the wolf was not so lucky. The musk, whether real or imagined, was working its magic on Derek's nether regions.
Derek turned his eyes upward as he heard Keith chuckle. He noticed that the otter was looking down the couch towards his crotch, and Derek blushed as he realized he had been caught. He had been naked for so long now that he didn't really notice it any more.
"They didn't let you get off, did they?" the otter asked.
The wolf shook his head, too embarrassed to speak. Keith had seen his body plenty, and the two shared more than a few intimate moments together. Still, after the kindness that Keith had just displayed, Derek felt the flush of shame. Keith sighed and lifted the wolf's head off his lap, sliding off the couch and letting Derek down gently. The wolf didn't stay horizontal for too long, as he sat up despite the pain in his rump.
Before Derek even had the opportunity to protest or question what was going on, the otter knelt in front of the naked wolf, wrapping a strong paw around the pink pillar. Keith started rubbing it up and down slowly, but in a steady rhythm. Perhaps that's why Derek truly liked Keith the best; as the drummer, he was able to keep a beat.
The warm paw felt nice, but every time it neared the base, Derek's abused balls would start to protest. The increased flow of blood down there was already making them spark with pain, and it would only get worse every time that brown-furred paw came close. The wolf's cock turned from pink to bright red as it swelled in Keith's grip, and the otter smiled up at Derek, who could only manage a sheepish grin. The grin turned into a look of shock when the otter open his mouth.
Hot breath washed over the quivering tip of Derek's shaft, and the fur on the back of his neck practically trilled with anticipation. That sense didn't last long as the warm, wet tongue quickly bridged the gap between cock and muzzle. Keith lapped at the tip, giving it a generous coating of saliva, and causing the wolf to clench his fists into the cushions. The otter continued to slather the head of the canid shaft for what seemed like a pleasurable eternity before finally taking it into his muzzle.
Keith's lips rolled along the thick shaft of the wolf with practiced ease, the tongue coating the underside of the pillar of flesh. Derek leaned his head back and moaned, the pleasure of the blowjob only intensified by the fact that he had been hard for hours and never allowed to release earlier. The otter tilted his head to the side, sucking in hard. His cheeks hugged the cock, causing the wolf to moan out in pleasure.
Already the wolf's cock was spurting slimy precum into Keith's maw. The pent-up canine was barely able to keep himself in check, but his tired and sore muscles were doing that for him. The dull throbbing soreness was enough to temper the extreme pleasure of the otter's maw. The otter's tongue ran over the wolf cock a few times to clear it of everything but his own saliva, greedily sucking down every drop that the wolf had to offer. It was only an appetizer, of course. Soon, the main course was going to come firing out of Derek's balls.
Keith's mouth continued to work over the slick shaft, tracing the thick veins with his tongue. He pushed his nose against the swollen ball of flesh that was Derek's knot, drawing back up the shaft with one long drag. Derek's toes curled on either side of Keith, and he let out a small howl of pleasure at the feeling. Wrapping his lips around the tapered tip, Keith began to stroke the shaft furiously, wanting it to give up its slick, salty prize.
Derek whimpered as his abused balls tightened against his knot, flooding his penis with the seed that Keith so vigorously desired. The otter's cheeks puffed out as the wolf came in a sudden blast, his mouth filled with the bittersweet spunk. He sucked it down, though, making room for the second and third spurts that caused Derek to arch his back in pleasure. The entire night's stress had been released with that orgasm, a load that would have rivaled a week of abstaining from pawing off.
The wolf practically collapsed into the sofa as his cock fired off a few more dying blasts, twitching back towards limpness. Keith removed his muzzle from the spent dick, licking his lips in case any offending drops had dribbled out. They hadn't, but still, it never hurt to check. Derek finally managed to open his eyes, giving the drummer a grateful look. His arms shook as he tried to push himself back up, but the otter's paw stopped him.
"Just...sit there for now," Keith said, his tone not quite commanding, but definitely on the edge. "Relax. In a few minutes, go get your shorts from the closet and slip into them. The others will be too exhausted to do much else to you tonight."
Derek nodded, looking straight forward and finding himself eye level with Keith's groin. The otter's erection strained against the already tight pants that the rock-and-roll band wore, providing a girthy and visible bulge. The wolf's musk had an obvious effect on the drummer.
"Should I?" he asked, breathlessly.
Keith looked down and shook his head. "Naw," he said with a wink. "I'm going to take a shower anyway."
Derek blushed and nodded, falling back onto the couch and feeling the desire to sleep slip over him. He had had a trying night, and that was easily the best blowjob of his life. As he drifted off to dreamland, Keith chuckled, fetching the wolf's shorts from the closet before heading to the bathroom to take care of his own 'cleaning problem.'