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"Last round from me, gents!"

The call sounded from in the front of the bar, manned by a couple bartenders at the time. A lithe, white furred weasel caught a few more requests by the patrons, filling up a few draft glasses and then making several more cocktails, making sure to flash his exposed rear. His session taking care of the bar was nearly over, but his night of work was hardly so. It was just a few minutes past 10:30 at night, the Saturday crowd already growing more rowdy. In a short while, the dancers would appear, beginning five hours of wild, erotic inducing dancing.

Tonight was a special occasion, with the owner pulling one of his first full contact nights as a way to celebrate the new year. Any other given night, groping or otherwise touching the dancers was strictly prohibited inside the club, but the panther wanted to draw in some new clientele. He had his bouncers on high alert to ensure nothing bad happened, but it was going to be a risky and risque night. Touching was not just allowed, but encouraged, especially of the carnal nature. Every dancer was given full choice on whether to work that night and a few certainly opted out. Surprisingly, Darius had not been one of them.

Perhaps it was from the experience he had gained from the cougar and meerkat from a while back, or increasingly more common flings with regulars here, but the toned male weasel had grown a lot more comfortable. Patrons had also grown more fascinated with him as the mustelid had further sexualized his body with far more lewd outfits. Over a dozen relatively new piercings accented his figure, sixteen of them decorating his rear end. Six sapphire studs ran down the inner curves of each fully visible ass cheek, with another four running down his taint, designed to pull as much attention as possible towards his tailhole.

It had certainly worked, with the twenty-four year old carnivore not only receiving much attention in person, but also growing a sizeable fan base online. Onlyfans had offered him a grand opportunity during the pandemic, garnering the gazes of even a solid number of locals in upper Detroit. Even for those who didn't want to pay, several hundred Twitter users paid rapt focus on his uploaded posts, including scenes of him riding dildos, and small clips of homemade porn shoots with some close friends. Darius had never imagined breaking into such a foray when he started here, but as the cheetah bouncer he knew best had told him, if you stay here long enough, you learn why the long-timers never leave.

Closing everyone's bar tabs on his account took until 10:43, and then the mustelid quickly made his way to the back room. His bartending clothes were plenty revealing, but the outfit he had ready for the pole was far more illicit for any normal public environment. Fishnet lingerie was pulled up his legs, securing around his lower back and covering the first few inches of his tail. A matching top ran down to his biceps and covered his upper back and chest, splitting around his bejeweled nipples to keep the rings that hung in full view. Three cuffs encircled each forearm and lower leg, with a single one tightly gripping his thighs and upper arms.

Last to affix was his studded collar. Much like his cuffs, it was made of high quality black stained leather and embedded with faux sapphire studs running around the entire circumference. Already half hard just looking at himself, Darius maneuvered a silver and violet cock ring to the base of his shaft, adding a twin glans ring just under his coronal ridge. The two columns of dark blue studs running along his muzzle flashed in the low light and the weasel just grinned. He had a few minutes before he hit the stage at 11:00 for no less than three hours of raunchy goodness. In the time it took to chug down a glass of water and add a bit of reflective lubricant over his pucker, the clock read 10:59. Slipping into a full body harness took little effort. Affixing a chain harness over his rump was the last step, multiple lengths of thin steel cascading over each glute.

Groping his hard penis once, he gave it a few sensual strokes, adding more of the slick fluid over it before taking to the short hallway that led to the stage. In previous times, the weasel would have felt nervous, even excessively anxious, but not anymore. Reaching the curtain and sauntering into view, the male displayed a carnivorous grin, flashing his sparkling teeth and baring his triple studded tongue before licking surreptitiously over his lips. His pole was in the center of a large, nailed down table. Each one was only available for VIPs and those who paid a large premium for access for the night. The panther owner had his own qualifications for what gave you VIP status, but those who possessed it had definitely earned it. The rest were charged a hefty $125 fee each and informed of the expectation to tip their dancer well.

Patrons were pretty quick to grab the open seats, the bouncers making sure their credentials were on point. Each bouncer was assigned to watch over two dancers, and Chet, the weasel's favorite door guard, snarled at Darius as he approached the pole. The two of them had been friends for some time, though a few rounds in the backroom during off hours or breaks had added to that. Darius had gotten a second experience regarding how good barbs felt after the cougar, and then a third later on with the owner himself. When he first started, he held a bit of animosity and disgust towards his coworkers who seemed so flippant and casual about sex, but after 18 months, he understood.

His table filled up very quickly, eight chairs now holding bodies of men, all of whom were already freeing their packages from their fabric prison. A horse, a couple wolves, a tiger, buck, raccoon, pine marten, and raven. The horse was already a no go for anything explicitly sexual, as there was no way Darius was interested in testing how much of his intestines it would destroy. That didn't mean he wouldn't give the stallion a hell of a show and plenty of attention, but his main focus would be on the ones his anus could handle. Simply put, the weasel was not bringing in the new year without some primal intercourse.

The atmosphere of the establishment changed pretty quickly, with the lights dimming to near blackness, only the lights above each table and the few girls on the stage illuminated. The entertainment were the dancers, though the bouncers would help spread more drinks out to any still thirsty customers. Dark, thumping music began to emanate out from the top flight speakers, softly vibrating the ground, the energy transferring up to the chairs and table. Darius closed his eyes to slits and let the ambience and beat wash over his senses, allowing it to overtake his mind and desires, the subtle vocals and lucid rhythm whispering in his ears and caressing his needs.

The patrons at his table were more than patient enough to give the weasel the couple minutes he wanted to mentally dive in. His seven inch, midnight blue cock flared above an impressive pair of balls as the mustelid pulled out a beaded, foot long rod. Leaning his highly flexible frame back, Darius began to lick and kiss the pole while he smeared a bit of lubricant over the metallic cylinder. One paw began teasing over his shaft and a few groans of encouragement flowed into his black tipped ears. The tip grazed over the tip of his spire, tickling the small piss hole at the end. With clear practice, the weasel began to slide it inside, gliding the formed steel into his shaft.

Making a show of it was immensely critical, and Darius provided it. He could already hear the soft moans, and even fainter sounds of paws gliding over sticks of hard flesh as the rod sank deeper into his own. The dark blue staff throbbed as cold metal dived inside, gently but relentlessly invading his urethra, until his paws clenched. Fishnet decorated legs quivered for a second as the tip brushed against the inside of his prostate, sending a shock of intense bliss through his musteline pelvis. Only a few more inches remained, and the well practiced weasel slid the rod in and out five to six inches again and again before biting his lip with his upper teeth.

The final slight drive sunk that rod all the way inside his prostate before pressing against, and then into, his bladder. A whimper and thick dollop of drool fell from his maw as a strong throb pulsed a few drops of precum out of his pisshole. A small chain at the end was connected to his cock ring to keep the sounding rod securely embedded into his anatomy, his silver and sapphire scrotal ring showcasing the final part of his bedazzled groin. Opening his eyes back up again, he let his hands run down over his entire body, sliding down his shoulders, sides and ass before kneeling down to reach over his lower legs.

Moderately sized, eight ounce violet weights were soon attached to his nipple rings, pulling a groan of pain and sensuality from the dancer as they pulled on his sensitive flesh nubs. Flexing his cock one more time, he leaned forwards, straightening out his frame. Running his back against the pole, he let his tongue slide out again, moving to his knees and dropping down to the raccoon directly in front of him. Using his left paw, he moved it behind the procyon's neck and pulled him in for a long, extended kiss, trading saliva with him for half a minute. Nearby paws molested his legs, ass, hips, obliques, face, and arms, squeezing the muscles and softly teasing over the less meaty parts of his body.

This was a unique experience for Darius, but one he reflexively found enjoyable. His blue eyes stared deeply into the raccoon's dark red ones, his studded tongue wrestling with the other, fingers digging into the procyon's nape. Saliva strung between their lips as the weasel pulled away, moving back towards the pole and out of reach of the other hands. He shivered just a bit as one paw gave his balls a gentle squeeze, and then he was back up, chest to the pole as he licked over it, showcasing his highly pierced butt, a small stream of lube trickling down over his taint.

Sexuality quite rapidly began to consume him, driving him towards ever more salacious postures and inviting activities. He was soon down on his hands and knees, moaning as the stallion's lips and tongue slobbered over his pucker, coating it in thick saliva. The wolves climbed up alongside him and pulled on his nipple weights while licking and kissing his face. Precum dribbled from his long penis as it twitched. Breaks in the direct physical action gave him time to scale his lust filled body back up the pole, his paws caressing both over the metal rod and his body. The patrons at his table became more audacious and soon the contact didn't end even as they let him dance.

Minutes ticked by without meaningful notice, time proceeding without measure, marked only by the moans and sighs swollen with accelerated cravings. The weasel found himself blindly making out with whoever met his lips, gasping as tongues licked over his fur and flesh. He felt the contents of the bottle of lubricant nearby being rubbed into him in large quantities, slickening his body up, fingers pressing into his tailstar a couple inches to glaze his entrance. Still though, he longed for something more intimate, more personal. It was when a commanding voice quietly bellowed over the cacophony that he was brought back to reality.

"You're one hell of a whore, weasel. But I can tell you want something more."

Darius' eyes moved towards the source, breaking the kiss with the excited deer to track the sound. There, the pine marten stood from his chair, and climbed onto the table, moving behind the dancer turned primitive sex fiend. Between his legs dangled a half hard spire, probably rocking seven and a half inches already, oozing precum. His eyes showed an old hunger, an ancient desire so deeply buried under the blankets of modern society and culture. He wanted that weasel, needed him more than anything else at the moment.

Without warning, he felt his head turned back forcefully, seeing the raccoon's crotch in front of him, the engorged, throbbing procyon flesh pulsing just as hard as the marten's. There was no choice in Darius' lust drowned head, his muzzle quickly moving down to take half of the length into his hot, drooling muzzle. He pulled off shortly after to let out a whimper of blissful strain as the pine marten settled over his back, spreading his legs, and drove every inch of his meat into his insides.

The shock of such sudden penetration broke the weasel from his heat for a moment, a short flicker of realization pouring over him, but then he was back down on the cock in his muzzle. His guts ached mildly as they stretched around the rapidly thickening marten dick, but he loved it. The music thumped under him from the floor, through him as he kneeled on the table, and in him via the pair of shafts. Sheer psychological desire willed him forwards. He clenched his hole around the marten behind him, closed his muzzle tightly against the raccoon in front of him and all he wanted was to be rutted and hard.

Thrusting began and Darius' mind slipped further into the abyss of hedonism. Never had he known the true gluttony of ecstasy that unbridled sex provided. The grunts and slaps of flesh were drowned out by the flashing lights and near deafening throbs of dark electronic music echoing against the walls. He had no idea what existed in the present beyond his table, and barely even registered the existence of the other six patrons. His world was reduced to the raccoon grunting and drooling over his head and neck while the marten's balls clapped against his own, all nine inches of flesh driving in and out of his body.

At some point, he felt himself cum, but unlike when he masturbated at home, the strings of cum pouring from him did nothing to mute the lust in him. He clenched as he rode his orgasm out, but as it subsided, the marten and raccoon only fucked him harder. All seven inches of his own manhood remained stone hard and he just wanted more. The raccoon gripped his ears, twisting them slightly as heaved and sweat. Ferocity met him at the rear as the pine marten drove into him like a piston on speed. Sweat pooled down from the tree mustelid's body to mix with his own. Claws found purchase between his nipple rings, teeth found them against his nape.

The breeding was violent, small trickles of blood making rivers of crimson on his neck, but Darius only begged for more. The rhythm was a drug of sheer primeval need, the heat driving him past sanity, the intimacy demanding his body as tribute. Whatever god fed off the carnal lust of sexual impurity had to be overflowing with power inside this club; Darius was sure that the others weren't any meaningful level behind his own unbridled heat. He wanted nothing more than to feel rivers of cum hosing into his guts and down his throat, as though some unknown force had overtaken his senses and mind.

When the marten came, he knew it for sure. Those teeth dug into his neck, claws gripped his pecs violently. That staff swelled and a supernova of semen began to rocket into his body. He would have howled if he could, but the raccoon in front of him hilted him right then and there, his blockades shattering as he watched the marten cum just a few feet away. His head craned upwards as throbs of spunk pumped down the slut's throat, warming the weasel's stomach. Cum filled him from both ends, and Darius nearly ejaculated again from that realization alone.

As each male came down from their sexual high, the other six seemed ready to make their move, but the pine marten clamped down on the dancer's neck, his claws gripping his white hips nearly hard enough to break pelvic bones. The raccoon's eyes showed no signs of a desire to give his prize up either. The scent of sheer dominance suffocated the weasel's nostrils, but it only served to rile his body up even further.

"You and I made the first real moves, raccoon. He has two holes, so let's use them to the fullest. What do you say, whore...care to go for longer than you can imagine?"

Darius could only nod, and then the spitroast resumed. The marten and raccoon began making out above him, their strings of drool falling onto his back and butt. Procyon fingers teased over the sapphire studs lining his butt cheeks while just inches away, the marten's python sunk its venomous teeth into his lust addled mind. The music flowed through and into him in time to the pace of combined intercourse, and soon, Darius felt his mind just disconnect from reality, focusing only the music, the two males on either end of his body, what they were doing to him, and the intense ecstasy he felt from it.

The other patrons at the table tried a few more times to involve themselves, but the dominance and control the marten and raccoon possessed discouraged them in short time. Soon, it was just the three males breeding in undefinable debauchery. Cum leaked down his thighs, splattered all over his cheeks and glazed down his taint and balls. More of it painted his lips and chin, smeared around his muzzle and nose, the only smell the weasel could detect any longer being that of potent jizz.

Cries of celebration echoed as the new year hit, but they vanished within a minute. The three males came time and time again, as if controlled by a machine or drowning in drugs. It wasn't until Darius collapsed on the table, and the two others came a final time that any sense of reality returned. A few watery splatters of whatever was left in their balls and prostate emptied just seconds after the music began to die down. The lights returned in low amounts to avoid blinding anyone as the DJ announced that the bar would be closing in a half hour and everyone needed to finish up.

All the three of them could do was heave and tremble as their sexual highs wore off. When the marten finally pulled out, a loud squirt of backlogged spunk spewed out before ounces more leaked and oozed out behind it. The weasel's stomach felt stuffed and his body complained in desperate need for hydration in the ocean of salty cum it now swam in. But for now, they only rested, the marten's softening cock weakly flopped over his lower back while the raccoon's slumped on the table, inches from the white furred mustelids very well used muzzle. It was the last thing he remembered before he passed out on that table, knowing at the very least that no one would make him leave.

When he came to, he felt cum still leaking from his rear end, but the cheetah bouncer was in a seat a few feet from him. He whistled at the mustelid in admiration before helping him to his knees and feeding him a glass of water. Soft strokes over his dyed mohawk and mane did what it could to calm his aching body and neck.

"You went bloody hard there, Slinky. I know you've been getting more into sex, but that was beyond my expectations by a few thousand degrees. Are you okay?"

Darius found his throat too sore to speak, but he managed a nod, though it didn't look too confident as another squirt of marten spunk spit out of his insides.

"I've got your bike loaded in my trunk since I know there is no way you're getting back home that way. I'll help you get a few more glasses of water in your body and then I'm taking you home. You need a lot more sleep than you got on that table."

He had no reason to object. Mouthing out a silent "thanks" he let himself be lowered back down as the cheetah left to fill up some more water. A few glasses more were emptied before the spotted feline nearly carried the mustelid to his truck. Placing him on a seat covered with a few towels, he buckled the weasel in and then began the drive home.

"By the way, I plugged the numbers of those two guys into your phone while you were out, just in case you wanted another round like that."