FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Hard limit. Soft limit.

Just below the headers at the top of the paper, there are three columns for your responses, and you read over them with uneasy scrutiny.

Neutral. Interest. High interest.

The latter three are rather self-explanatory, but the first two have brief descriptions next to each, and you scan them with increasingly widening eyes.

Only then do you dare to analyze the words in the left column, the doctor's criteria.

Leash Play. Collaring. Bondage. Blindfolding. Spanking. Blood Play.

Your breath stutters from your lungs.

Whip. Rattan Cane. Flogger.

You are uncertain of the definition of many of the words. A few you are familiar with- as a single lady of 22 years, reading erotica is a favorite past time. But whether you recognize each term or not, ALL of them make your heart race.

This wasn't part of the job description. AT ALL. You are supposed to be a nurse, the doctor's assistant, but...THIS?

Hair pulling. Deep-throat. Mock medical examinations. Consensual non-consent.

Your face heats with a flush and blood fills your ears thanks to your violently pounding heart, like the hollow drum of wing beats and you gulp for air, overwhelmed by the realization of what exactly the doctor is asking of you. In the time you have spent getting comfortable here and learning from his nurses, he has clearly been plotting things you have only ever read about in the darkest of the erotic tales you keep tucked beneath your mattress.

None of his nurses, nor your best friend Naroa Marlianken who recommended applying for this position mentioned anything of this nature. Based on how they described the doctor, you know him to be curt, polite, intelligent and exceptionally skilled in surgical procedures and getting to the root of the problem. You have yet to even meet him; not once has he been seen during the week of preparation you have spent to be his assistant- as head surgeon, he is a busy man.

But you need this job. Desperately. And you cannot afford the luxury of being picky. Pride doesn't matter when you will be starving and likely homeless by next month.

Before you can change your mind, you dip the quill pen in the pot of ink and begin to check mark what you would consider... tolerable.

_Tolerable._Even you have to scoff at that exaggeration of your morality; if you were being honest with yourself, many of these sound nothing short of exhilarating.

Collaring. High interest.

Bondage. High interest.

Blindfolding. High interest.

Hair pulling. Interest.

Deep-throat. High interest.

Anal Training. Neutral. You aren't so sure about that one.

Now you reach the more... aggressive tools of the trade.

Biting. High interest.

Spanking. Interest.

Flogger. High interest.

Whip. Interest.

Rattan Cane. Neutral.

Role Play. High Interest.

Mock medical examinations. High interest.

You reach the last one, and snare your lower lip between your teeth before deciding.

Consensual non-consent. High interest.

"My, your pulse is absolutely racing!" A silvery voice slithers from an eternity away, bringing you back to yourself and you jolt. "I could hear it from down the hallway. Are you quite all right?"

"Y-yes, doctor!" Your heart flips into your throat. You clutch the clipboard to your chest and snap your attention to the doorway, and watch with mounting anxiety as he stalks into the room.

"There is no need to be nervous. I promise I won't bite."

You have a hard time believing that, as the questionnaire clearly suggests otherwise. But after giving him a once-over, you're thinking a bite from him may not be so bad...

The doctor is tall- at least six-foot-two, broad of shoulder and you can see muscle of his biceps bunching and flexing beneath his slate gray trench coat as he goes to work arranging his tools on the steel tray resting upon the cart. The majority of his features are obscured by a leather plague-doctor's mask, save for his soul-piercing eyes which glint at you through his silver spectacles. Startlingly enough, they are crystalline, like diamonds. His ears are long and pointed, and silver rings and cuffs adorn his right one. His dark hair is cropped short and slickly combed back into jagged points. Each finger of one hand is armed with scythe-like blades, and his other is clad in a black leather glove. Slithering out below the hem of the trench coat is a metal-plated tail, and its head is adorned with six menacing spikes.

The doctor is a demon. And from what little you can make out from his features, an undeniably attractive one.

'Holy shit.'

"Doctor Demiurge." He extends his safer hand- while it is not composed of curved blades like his other, the digits still end in claws, and you stare at it dumbly before your brain flips back on.

"Nurse Amon, Amon Dez." You introduce yourself and hope you didn't to come off as uneloquent, and you shake hands with him. He courteously minds his talons.

Demiurge is feverish to the touch, but this comes as no surprise as you have read that a demon's body temperature runs nearly ten degrees higher than that of other heteromorphs; they're hot-blooded, so to speak.

"It is a pleasure." He says warmly, and when you release his grip, his hand remains open, as though he is waiting for something.

"Have you completed your paperwork?" He cuts right to the chase.

He looms over you like a massive, bipedal raven, eyes glinting with an eerily unsettling intelligence.

"Um... yes, doctor." You nervously lick your lips and swallow the growing lump in your throat before reluctantly surrendering the clipboard to him.

The demon's eyes scan the questionnaire, and you watch his eyes widen, then narrow.

'Oh no... did I mark something I shouldn't have?'

Doctor Demiurge sighs in apparent exasperation and pinches the bridge of his nose, and you feel a cold stone of dread settle into your gut.

But then he mutters something to the effect of 'I'm going to kill him'.

"My sincerest apologies. It would appear my brother, Malphas, thought this would be amusing. This is the third time he has traded our paperwork with... this." He taps a blade on the paper for emphasis. "A childish prank in poor taste he likes to pull with my new associates."

A sigh of relief passes your lips. You were positive you had fucked up and he would retract the employment opportunity.

But despite the surgeon labeling it as a mere prank, his eyes continue to rake over the columns with undisguised interest. His tail flicks, and you can practically see the wheels in his head turning.

He then draws a brow.

"I admit, I find it surprising that you checked anything at all. The sexual nature of this questionnaire more often than not results in most simply showing themselves out or furiously demanding an explanation." He remarks with a lithe chuckle.

If it is possible to die of embarrassment, you'll be keeling over in 3...2...1.

"I- I really need this job." You say simply.

"So it would seem." He purrs, and he rests the clipboard next to the steel tray. "Tell me," He turns on his heel and narrows the distance between you to mere inches, and he smells like cloves, leather and scorched sandalwood. It is as equally enticing as it is strangely comforting- like a fireplace. "...do you have any actual experience with what you have check-marked?"

The demon's brazen question steals the breath from your lungs.

The air grows buttery thick with tension, and you gulp audibly as embarrassment serves you a severe case of cottonmouth.

"...No." You finally admit with a shameful roll of your lips.

While you weren't a virgin, your experience is limited to the fumbling hands and easily fatigue mouths of boys your age- and you don't use the term boys loosely, because they could hardly be considered men. Whether you were satisfied while they got off mattered not, and each encounter was entirely centered around their pleasure and resulted in bitter disappointment. Not once had you been brought to release. "No, doctor."

He hums in contemplation. "Would you be willing to learn?"

Again, you blush, and cannot help but wonder if you are being baited, and this is his idea of yet another prank. Still, the question shoots a hot spike of arousal straight to your core.

'Okay. I'll bite.' What do you have to lose at this point?

"...Yes."

You watch his eyes crinkle at the edges, and know he is smiling behind his mask.

"Excellent." His voice oozes with black satisfaction, and your stomach flutters. "Then I do hope you were indeed honest with your responses."

'Oh, my Gods...' Your heart begins to race once more. 'This is actually happening...'

"Oh, dear. It would appear you have a bit of ink on your scrubs." He points out.

You look down. Sure enough, there are black smears down your front from when you had pressed the clipboard to your chest.

_'Damn it! Just great!'_You had spent the last of your spare coin on the most pristine set of white scrubs you could afford in hopes that looking the part would tip the scales in your favor of gaining the doctor's approval.

"Please, remove your clothing- I'll have someone get those stains out. Then I shall proceed with the examination." Doctor Demiurge says, adopting a clinical tone.

'WHAT? That's not what I'm here fo-...OH.'

That's right. You had checked role play and mock medical examinations.

Your heartbeat threatens to unbalance you as Demiurge stands idly by, watching and waiting patiently as you slowly bend over to untether the straps to your heels.

"E-everything?" You ask with mounting anxiety.

"Everything." Doctor Demiurge's voice is firm with authority, and it sends a thrill peeling down your spine.

You unbutton your top and slide it down your shoulders, then toss it aside. Mere nudity should hold no anxiety over you- there are far more frightening things to fear, like those deadly blades arming his fingers. Still, your hands tremble as you wrench your arms behind your back to unhook the clasp of your bra.

Those crystalline eyes fixate on the black lacy cups as he patiently waits for you to pull them down to reveal yourself to his hungry gaze.

Shyly letting your bra fall, you then crouch a bit to slip off your panties and roll down your stockings. With the last of your clothing gone, you flatten your hands against your stomach as you straighten your posture, allowing him to drink in your naked form.

Your body is lithe with both muscle tone and softly rounded curves. Doctor Demiurge's gaze greedily glides over your skin, lingering on the swells of your breasts and pink flesh at the apex of your thighs.

Your breath comes shallow and quick through your nose as seemingly eternal moments pass.

"While you appear to be the picture of health, I believe a more thorough examination is necessary." The demon insists, and silently prowls around you, like a wolf seeking the most tender part of his prey to sink his teeth into.

The floor is cold beneath your bare soles, and it's a relief when Demiurge finally circles around to your front and holds out his hand to you. You lay your hand in his, and try to ignore the nearly-painful tightening of your nipples as they grow taut in the chill air.

'Damn, it's freezing in here!' Because bacteria thrives in warm environments, the hospital combats this with frigid temperatures, which help slow bacterial and viral growth.

He leads you to the large examination table, but to your surprise he gestures to the foot of it. "Sit here."

Shivers rack your spine as you wordlessly do as he's ordered. Your sex throbs with anticipation, sending clenching drags of raw desire clawing through your belly. You wonder if he's going to stand in front the table and fuck you, but your arousal deflates as he moves away, slipping out of sight past your peripheral vision.

You gasp quietly as he then seats himself behind you, stretching his long legs around you, and pulling you against him so that his chest pleasantly warms your back. His mask scrapes your cheekbone as he smooths his hand over your belly, sliding it higher to massage your breast and making you sigh with desire as his claws gently prick your flesh. He then carefully rests his bladed hand over your throat, sending a sweet surge of danger through your veins.

His trousers strain against your backside, and the stark contrast of his being fully clothed while you're so bare and vulnerable to him makes a fog of lust settle over your mind. The halo of his intoxicating aroma envelops you; smoke and leather and steel polish and other things you can't quite name.

Warmth is pouring into you, flooding through your chest and face and arms and legs... suddenly the job doesn't seem to matter so much anymore. Especially considering the fresh waves of pure lust rolling off him...

"You. Are a _naughty_little nurse, did you know that?" He chides, pulling you further back to where you can feel the head of his scathingly hot erection pressing into the dip of your lower spine and your lungs seize.

"Tell me," Demiurge growls in your ear. His thumb rolls over your nipple, plucking exquisite ecstasy within you like a harp. "when was the last time you engaged in sexual intercourse?"

"I... not in over a year... and a half." You admit breathily.

'Oh gods, please let this sexy demon be the answer to the dry spell.' You silently pray.

_"Hmm..."_He rumbles, sounding pleased. "Then let us begin with a pelvic exam." The doctor nuzzles into the side of your neck, earning a tiny cry from your lips as his gloved hand slips between your legs, finding your pearl and moving in achingly slow circles.

To your relief, his claws are apparently retractable.

You arch your back, overwhelmed by the sensations his experienced touch awakens, but he holds you fast against his well-muscled frame. The buttons of his shirt scrape the knobs of your spine as he works his first two fingers into your soaked folds.

"How very tight you are," Demiurge remarks, and strokes his deliciously thick digits over your silken walls, chuckling softly as you whine and writhe. "I take it you've had very few partners?"

"Y-yes, doctor." You choke out as he curls his fingers up into your wet heat to tease that one place that can make you scream, pulling you down into a red velvet haze with every delicious drag of his digits. "Only th-three."

"Do you have difficulty achieving orgasm with your partners?" You blush deeply at the brazen nature of his question, and you're utterly powerless in his embrace of hot steel as he wrenches a third digit in, sinking deep inside as you brokenly gasp. "I require an honest response if I am to prescribe...the necessary remedy."

The demon's long middle digit rubs lazy circles over your g-spot, and your mouth goes slack with an obscene moan. No one besides yourself has found that place, and you feel your face go numb as you soar higher and higher.

It's utterly mind-blowing; you've never been brought to the edge so quickly before. But dear fucking gods, is he good with his hands- as a surgeon should be.

"Yes..." You sob, and feel a warm, damp spot pressing into the small of your back, and your eyes roll in your head with the knowledge that it's his cock dripping through his trousers.

He's so hard, and your pulse sings in your ears. The doctor swirls his fingertips around your tender channel and as your walls flutter with the blinding edge rising within you, you hear his breath grow heavy.

"That's it, come for me." He goads with a purr, then hungrily grinds himself against your back, smearing the sticky wet of his pre-come on you through his trousers.

And holy shit, you can feel the thump his heartbeat through his shaft, and you can imagine how it would throb inside you.

That did you in- you shatter into a million brilliant shards with a strangled cry, your passage clenching down around the thickness of his digits in a powerfully throbbing euphoria, and Demiurge rumbles with a pleased growl. Once the ripples fade, he slowly withdraws his hand from between your thighs.

The metal of his belt clinks as he works at it behind you, and you feel his heart hammering into your back.

You know what he intends, and you think it's safe to say you've never wanted anything more in your life.

Demiurge carefully lifts your rear to pull you into his lap, minding the deadly blades and using only the palm of his left hand to maneuver your body as he settles the thick head of his cock at your entrance, spreading your dripping folds.

You clutch desperately at the edges of the examination table, trying to keep your balance as he splits you open on his rigid length, but he holds your hips steady, pulling you inexorably down. You can feel every ridge and contour of his large, flared head, every pulsing vein of his shaft as he slides in, stretching you to your utmost limit.

"So big," You gasp mindlessly and pant as your skin prickles to gooseflesh, your body damn near going into shock as you are speared onto his nearly wrist-thick girth.

He only laughs, his voice laden with arrogance as he pulls your derriere flush with his hips. "Indeed I am."

The doctor's invasion is searing, inescapable, and you cling to his arm with growing desperation as he lifts you again, his harsh breaths resonating with his mask. He thrusts into you as you fall to meet him, and your body shakes with the jarring force of his strokes, peaked breasts aching as you bounce.

"How often... do you have... unprotected intercourse?" Demiurge queries through staggering breaths as he spears into you anew, sending devastating ripples of bliss spiking into you.

"Never." Until now, that is- but at the moment, you really couldn't care less. His cock is the thickest, warmest thing you've ever felt and it's simply divine. Wave upon wave of euphoria crashes together, the sensations blending into a frenzy as he pushes you higher, then pulls you down hard onto him.

Rolling your hips, you sink back against the surgeon again with a low moan. He plunges in to the hilt, groaning softly as he roughly bumps at the depth of you, his blunt head striking your cervix, over and over. The demon's breath courses raggedly as he bucks, his hips slapping wetly against yours as he rocks faster.

You want to scream your pleasure, but he fills you so completely that your breaths are too shallow to waste as the weight of his shaft seems to force the air from your lungs.

Demiurge winds an arm around your waist as he pumps into you, growling fiercely into your neck as you accept every inch of him stretching and burning and sliding, giving you exactly what you need.

"Demiurge..." You whimper, your channel already tightening like a velvet vice around his inflamed length as he surges deeply into your body and pushes you towards the edge once more. He slips one hand down to massage the nub at the apex of your thighs, drawing a wail of wordless exaltation from your lips.

"Are you going to come for me come again?" The demon's words are velvet-edged, and flow like silk from his tongue, fuel to the fire that is the heavy slide of his cock and the feverish warmth of his body seeping into your bones.

"Yes," You beg, the word melting into a gasp of raw need as he pounds into your tender flesh, and you can feel it coalescing once more, that heady pressure that coils and churns and blooms. "Please don't stop!"

Demiurge shudders behind you with frenzied lust, his movements now wild and unmeasured as he nears his release, and you welcome each push with a throaty moan until your voice cracks and breaks on his name.

You can hear yourself pleading, your voice hardly recognizable as your own. You clutch at his bicep as heat of your core blows into an inferno of rapture, your walls constricting around him while he grinds your hips down onto his with a feral gasp. The demon's cock jolts within your channel, and you feel his molten seed spurting into you like liquid fury as he groans his release.

"Mmm... I think your qualifications exceed my standards." Doctor Demiurge purrs as he continues to throb, and his iron-plated tail winds around your joined forms, binding you to him possessively. "The job is yours."