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Attitude (by Mr Foxy Paws)

The small attic room was empty when I arrived, leaving half of me relieved and yet also half of me disappointed that the skunk had decided not to turn up. 'Six o'clock sharp,' he had told me, 'And don't be late, boi.' I rolled back my sleeve to check my watch: it was one minute to the hour. Letting out a long and tired sigh, I dumped my battered school bag on the threadbare brown carpet and plumped myself down onto one of the three chairs that somebody had long ago decided to leave in the tiny top-floor study room, perhaps by way of company for the lone wooden desk sitting beneath the low window. That's when I noticed the sealed envelope leaning against the window, tucked to one side where it wouldn't be visible from the doorway. I didn't know of anybody else who used the room, let alone was aware of it, other than Musty the skunk and his rat chums, and - sure enough - when I got up to investigate further I saw that somebody had scribbled by name on the envelope with a blunt pencil. I looked around, but there was nothing else in the room besides flaking plaster and occasional cobwebs; I listened intently, but there was no sound other than the tick-tock-ticking of a clock on the wall.

I picked up the envelope, turned it over in my paw and opened the sealed back with a single run of my finger. A small piece of paper slipped out and fell onto the floor; I bent down to pick it up and read the following:

Dragon bitch boi - Strip to underwear then stand in front of window, paws on head, facing out. DON'T move. M.

I read it again, and then a third time. The message was clear and simple, and had been typed out so that it was impossible to recognise the handwriting, yet I knew by the initial 'M' that it had been written by Musty the skunk, and if my scribbled name on the envelope wasn't enough then I knew by the opening salutation of 'Dragon bitch boi' that the missive was definitely meant for me.

I pushed the desk to one side and stood, still fully clothed, peering out of the window and gazing down at the gardens and pathways below; school had finished for the day and the area was deserted other than for some meandering pigeons. Across the way, lifeless windows of other school-rooms stared back at me. Normally the square would be teeming with school-boys scurrying to and from lessons, and the windows opposite would be lined with spotty teenage faces gawping at the world outside. But, for now, there were just pigeons. A little further in the distance stood the squat and rather bleak-looking school dormitories.

The familiar chimes of a nearby church tolled the hour; it was six o'clock. The time for my rendez-vous. I held the small slip of paper in my paw, and recalled the words which Musty had muttered a few days earlier. 'Trust and obey,' he had told me. 'That's what a subby pet must learn to do. Trust and obey.' Perhaps this was a test, I wondered. And... And I would happily trust and obey, or at least I would probably be happy and almost definitely obey, if only Musty were there in person. But leaving a note, like this? It wasn't the same; there was no intensity, no feedback, no frisson. Still, I had made the effort to stay late, I was in the room, I had found the note written for me... so it seemed rather a waste not to at least try venturing next the step.

I shrugged off my jacket and hung it over the back of a chair, then worked my way down the buttons of my shirt and slipped that off as well. Then, after stepping out of my scruffy trainers and removing my socks, I unbuckled my belt and pulled down my trousers. Already, bizarrely, my cock was growing firm and restless under my boxer shorts. Heck, I was alone, but the mere act of stripping because of some printed instructions left on a window-sill was making me hard.

'Stand in front of window,' the piece of paper had directed. At least I hadn't been ordered to strip buck naked, I reflected. Even so, apart from my loosely fitting boxer shorts and the tan leather collar that I still bore around my neck from when it had first been fixed there, my body was exposed and I felt very vulnerable.

I stepped up to the window and realised that my crotch and the top of my bare thighs would be clearly visible to anybody outside who happened to look up to the attic window, or across from one of the other buildings. All right, so there was nobody outside at the moment. And, sure, school had finished and the dormitories were a little way off. Plus, I imagined, I hoped, the glass would tend to reflect back the outside world rather than let observers look inward. But even so... Even so, there could be teachers working late who may yet need to use the paths down below. In addition the school caretaker was usually about most evenings, taking care of the countless tasks needed to keep the equipment and furnishings of a school in reasonable working order. And I still couldn't figure out how my framed figure would appear to anybody observing from the distant dormitories. Standing there, my thighs touching the cold chipped wood of the window sill, I glanced down and noticed the large bulge in my boxer shorts as my eager cock sought to escape. But, escape to what? For what? Nobody was around.

'Paws on head,' the note had instructed. Not hands, but paws. Musty knew my furry tendencies; on the day that we had first met - when I pretty much gate-crashed his birthday party by accident - somebody had laughed and told him about me being a dragon. The thing was, and perhaps this is partly what bound us, Musty was a skunk. Musty was a skunk, and his chums Ricky and Robby were rats, but only a handful of other boys knew that. So when Musty heard that I was a dragon, instead of teasing and mocking and jeering, he merely smiled at the informant, raised a single eye-brow, and said 'oh?' Maybe my furriness was common knowledge, and his was still discrete, but at least by being a fellow fur he accepted me for what I was. Yes, he had made me kneel and pleasure him in the locker room, and he had bred me while I was held down over a desk by Ricky and Robby, but that was the natural order of things. He was a dom skunk topping a subby bottom dragon. He might face-fuck me and butt-fuck me, but he still accepted me as being a fur.

'Paws on head,' it said. I raised my paws and folded them neatly over my scalp.

Outside, down below, the pigeons continued strutting back and forth in blatant defiance of the little plaques requesting to Please Keep Off The Grass. If those birds had chosen to look up, and if they'd had somewhat better sight, then they would have seen a young eighteen-year-old furry filling the window frame of the small attic room tucked away on the top floor of an old stone-clad school building. A furry with his paws held on his head, elbows and muscular arms jutting out to both sides; a furry with two strawberry-brown nipples sitting proudly on his smooth, tanned and athletic chest; a furry with such a massive bulging erection in his boxer shorts that you couldn't fail to notice. And, if that weren't enough, a furry with the pinkish hue of a blush beginning to creep across his muzzle.

'DON'T move,' the message had added. Not simply 'don't move', but 'DON'T move'. I could hear Musty's capitalized voice in my head; I could hear him stressing the word. Not loudly or vehemently, not shouting or snapping, but still with total clarity and utter authority. Indeed sometimes it seemed to me that the more quietly he spoke, the more softly he delivered his message, the more weight that each word carried. So... I was to stand there? For how long? I was desperate to check my watch, to see how much time had passed, to reflect on how much longer I should reasonably wait before giving up and going home, yet the position of my paws atop my head rendered the time-piece inaccessible without moving lowering my left wrist. And the instruction 'DON'T move' couldn't have been more clear. But, for how long?

I squinted down out of the window, trying to count the wandering pigeons by way of passing the time. Ten, eleven, twelve... Twelve... Thirteen? It wasn't an easy task as the birds disappeared from sight behind shrubs, or flew off from one bush I'd yet to cover only to settle down in another where I'd already counted. Bored with pigeons, I started counting the buildings opposite, the windows in the buildings opposite, and then the panes of glass in the windows in the buildings opposite. The wait was becoming tedious, and I had no idea - no idea at all - whether Musty was testing me, or simply mocking me. Who was to say that he'd not gone home hours ago? What made matters worse was that I had no idea of the time, and was too frightened to check my watch for fear that the one single movement could undo the lengthy patience which I had invested thus far. My cock had long ago shrunk, growing tired of standing firm without reward, and my legs were starting to complain about bearing my weight without any other movement. Then I heard the peel of bells again, striking the half-hour. Half past six? It seemed that I had been waiting forever and a day.

Shifting my weight slightly, to provide my legs with as much relief as I dare, I blinked a couple of times and once again contemplated the view outside; a view that I now knew by heart. I could have told you the shape and size of every shrub, every bush, every tree. You know what, I could probably have told you the shape and size of every pigeon - I had already begun giving them names. Now, where was Bomber Jack, I wondered, my eyes searching him out.

'Bitch boi!'

I span around.

'Don't move, bitch boi. Eyes front, eyes front.'

I turned back to the window, closed my eyes and let a sigh of relief ripple over me: my master had arrived.

'So... you waited,' said the skunk, and I heard him enter the room and pad over towards me. 'I didn't think you would. Well, not for half an hour. Not without moving a single well-toned muscle of your bitch boi body.'

'Y-You told me, Trust and obey,' I said, my breathing shallow and fast with anticipation now that I sensed the dominant fur standing right behind me.

'Ah! Well remembered,' he said, and I felt his paw stroke my hair. 'You know,' he continued, caressing the nape of my neck, 'you're a smarter kid than I gave you credit for.'

'T-Thank you,' I mumbled.

'I was out there, all the time, you know that?' he asked, gliding his paw lightly down my spine. I shivered. 'Checking that you arrived on time, that you ... stripped ... and positioned yourself in front of the window with your paws resting on your head.' His own paw reached the elastic waist-band of my boxer shorts, and he lightly brush-fondled my rump. 'And, of course, to check that you didn't - move!' On the word 'move' he squeezed one of my buttocks, causing me to flinch and let out a meep! of surprise.

'Paws behind your back, boi,' he said. I obeyed, lowering my arms, and instantly there was the touch of cold steel about my wrists, and the distinctive chatter of small clicks from ratchet teeth being locked into place. The next moment, a loose black sack-cloth blindfold was slipped over my head and the edges pulled down so that I could no longer see even the faintest chink of light.

'Turn around, boi,' said Musty. I shuffled my feet through what I guessed to be half a circle, but it wasn't easy to judge because the blindfold had closed me into my own disorientated world; it wasn't easy to balance, either, with my paws cuffed behind my back.

'You can come in now, guys,' called my master.

'What?' I cried. 'Who? What's going on? Musty?' But instead of an explanation, I suddenly felt a skunk paw settle on each of my nipples; skunk paws that closed around the strawberry-coloured nubs, felt briefly to ensure they had a good grip from the base to the tip, and then tweaked them sharply.

'Meep!' I cried, more with shock than surprise, having been unable to see what was about to happen.

'What's it to you, whom I invite, bitch boi? And it's Master not Musty. Now, mind that tongue of yours!'

'Yes, sir. Yes, Master. I'm sorry.' I hung my head in shameful repentance.

'You gonna stand there all day, or you gonna step out of those boxers?' asked my master.

I paused. There was the sacking over my head which prevented me from seeing anything, not even shadows or faint movement. A leather collar clung around my neck, and my fore paws were cuffed behind my back. The only scrap of dignity that I had left, the only remaining stitch of privacy, were the boxer shorts covering my stiffening cock and brace of vulnerable balls below. Not only that, but who else was in the room? And, finally, -

'Well? Are you?' My master repeated the question.

'My paws are cuffed, Master. I can't remove them with my paws cuffed behind my back, Master.'

'Can't, or won't?' he barked back.

'Can't isn't a word that Master knows,' said a familiar voice.

'Neither is won't,' added another one.

'We should know,' the two chorused together.

The rats! I thought to myself. Of course, my master had hinted that his pets might come to the next session. Even so, I couldn't be sure they were alone. Perhaps I was the evening's entertainment for any number of Musty's other friends.

'Well? I'm waiting,' said Musty.

Trust and obey, I said to myself. They were the words that Musty had intoned soon after we met: trust and obey. And, so far, I had no reason to reproach him for anything. This was evidently another test. I could either baulk, and refuse, in which case I knew that Musty would remove my collar then let me get dressed and go home. But, equally, I knew that the instant he unbuckled the leather from my neck then our relationship would end. Forever. So much was at stake either way; my dignity, or my role as a sub to Musty the skunk. How did I see the rest of my life at school, and in the months and maybe years beyond?

I wavered, my mind struggling with the two opposing options.

'Very well,' said Musty. 'I'll take that as a refusal.' I felt his paws on my collar, reaching for the buckle. 'Show's over early, boys, sorry,' he called out to the audience - whoever or whatever they were.

'No! Wait!' I said, quickly and desperately stretching my hands lower down my back to find the elastic waist-band of my boxers. Urgently, I pulled the material over my hips and half-way down my buttocks, then moved my paws along to the right and to the left, working the silken garment down towards my thighs where - finally and with far less effort than I had anticipated - the boxers slid to my ankles. I squatted down to help keep my balance, and managed to step free from the cursed clothing. Then, I stood back up again. Relieved.

'Hmmm,' Musty hummed aloud. 'I don't know. I need obedience, not some feeble dragon bitch boi who can't make up his mind what he wants. What do you reckon, boys?' This last remark was addressed to the rats.

'You had touched the collar,' observed Ricky.

'Ah, but he hadn't unfastened it,' countered Robby.

'But the slut clearly doesn't know what he wants,' declared Ricky.

'No? In the end, he took those boxers off pretty sharpish,' replied Robby.

'Master needs obedience, though, and not to be messed around,' stated Ricky.

'He's still young, he's still learning,' answered Robby. 'I vote that he gets one more chance.'

'You do?' asked Musty.

I bated my breath, sorely tempted to fall on my knees and beg for another opportunity to prove my worth - yet knowing Musty the little that I already did, I was sure that he'd find such pathetic action contemptible. I had wavered far too long, I knew that, but in the end I had stripped naked, and he hadn't unfastened the collar. I swallowed, and waited. My master, at least for the next few seconds although I knew not for how much longer after that, moved closer and I sensed his body inches away from mine; he ran his paw through my hair - a caress that he knows I love - and stroked one of my ears. Then he ran a skunkish claw along my jaw-line and under my chin, applying slight pressure to indicate that I should lift my head up and tilt it backwards. After that he traced the same claw over my adam's apple, down my neck and chest towards my groin. I trembled as he reached and gripped my exposed rampant cock.

'Whose is this?' he asked.

'Yours, Master. Yours to do with as you wish, Master. Yours to punish, if you wish, Master, for my hesitation and insolence.'

'And these?' he continued, wrapping his paw firmly and quite tightly around my delicate orbs. My brief grimace of pain was thankfully hidden beneath the black sacking still draped over my head.

'They are yours too, Master. To do with as you wish, Master,' I said. 'All of my body, Master, is yours.'

'Kneel, bitch boi.'

Carefully, my paws still cuffed behind my back, I lowered myself into a kneeling position.

Nothing.

Not a movement, not a sound.

He was humbling me and making me wait.

And I fully deserved every murderous, infinite second of it.

Now he was either going to remove my collar and terminate our relationship for ever, or - and I prayed to every furry god I knew that this would be the case - he was going to -

'Suck!' he commanded.

I still cannot find words to say how great was the relief that washed over me at his command. Never, in my entire life, have I been so thankful to hear the command Suck! and I'm sure that I never will be again. He must have been holding his cock right in front of my face because, when he lifted the bottom of my sack hood, I only had to bob my head forwards by a fraction before my lips touched his hot member. I opened my maw and hungrily, greedily, took him into my mouth, my tongue instantly playing over his smooth domed head, tasting his salty-warm pre. It's not always easy to service your master with paws tied behind your back, but Musty obviously realised this because he grasped my head and pulled it tight against his body, causing me to almost choke as my nose rammed against his warm hairy crotch and his massive beast deep-throated me. I continued licking, as best I could, and sucking, with all my strength; in turn, he began thrusting his huge cock in and out, in and out; I managed to match his rhythm, bobbing my head and sucking and slurping as his giant skunk-hood shafted my mouth, in and out, in and out, until he froze and I felt his swollen organ grow yet more firm and plump; that's when he slipped it forwards, paused, slipped it back, and slipped it forwards one more time before it twitched violently and fired six or seven massive wads of creamy hot skunk-cum down the back of my throat. I didn't need to be told, I knew what to do: I swallowed.

'Next time, no more chances,' he said.

I nodded. 'Yes, Master. I understand. Thank you, Master. Thank you for letting this worthless bitch boi slut have one more chance to prove I am worthy to serve you, Master.'

'Boys?' called Musty.

'We want our entertainment!' the two rats chorused.

'Ah, good point, good point. I forgot all about that, what with having to discipline this disobedient slut.' I half expected more pain, perhaps Musty punishing my nipples or pressing a hind paw down on my grounded balls, but - instead - he merely ruffled my hair. With that single act, I knew that my faux pas had passed and the matter was closed.

'Stand up and turn around, slut,' he said, and once I was upright he uncuffed my wrists behind my back. 'And you can remove the hood,' he added. I rubbed the sensation back into my wrists, noting the dimpled skin from where the metal had rested hard against my flesh. Then, I reached up and took off my hood, and blinked in the light.

Before me, on the school desk, somebody had placed... had placed... had placed some black lace lingerie and a frilly white... white... what?

'I thought you'd look good in some black lace,' said Musty. 'But the rats reckoned on a white tutu. We couldn't agree,' he shrugged, 'so we got you both.'

'Thank you?' I said, although it came out as a question. 'They're... a present?' I asked, unsure of when I would ever wear such items of clothing.

'Yes,' said Ricky.

'They're for you,' supplied Robby.

'To wear now,' finished Musty.

'Umm,' I said, then suddenly remembered the dire consequences of my previous hesitation. 'Great.'

My enthusiasm wasn't very convincing, but often it's what I do rather than my eagerness to do it which is most important to my master. I picked the frilly lace panties off the desk and unfolded them in my paws; the material was soft and light, and the delicate needlework was exquisite. A fancy frilly border lined the holes for waist and legs, while the rest of the garment was adorned with gathered lace ruffles and black sewn-on flowers. At the front was a small decorative bow, complete with ruby-red sequin dead centre of the knot. They were, I had to admit, a successful albeit unusual mix of extravagance and discriminating taste. I bent down, slipped them on, and found they fitted perfectly. In point of fact, they were extremely comfortable. Only they were rather... girlie.

'And the bra,' said Musty.

I picked up the brassiere which had clearly come as a lingerie set with the panties. The cups were gently elasticated and fairly flat, I noticed with relief, such that when I held them up against my chest they didn't seem too out of place. I looked towards Musty and the rats, cocked my head and smiled coquettishly while holding the garment against my torso; my master smiled and his rodent pets burst into giggles.

'Turn round, boi, I'll fix it,' said Musty. 'I'm guessing you've not worn one before, and I'm not going to hang around watching you struggle to fasten the strap up yourself. After all, you've probably not had much practice with them in any event? Never undone a girl's bra straps, with one paw, to get at her breasts?'

'Nooo,' I said, blushing. 'I've never touched an icky girl, Master.' I shivered at the thought, then quivered at the touch of my master's paws as he fastened the bra strap behind my back. I turned back to face him, and he straightened the lace bands running over my shoulders, lifted one cup half an inch higher, then stood back to admire his work.

'There,' he said, talking to Ricky and Robby. 'There, see, I said he'd look good in black lace.'

'Actually, he's right,' Ricky turned and said to his mate.

'Yes, not bad,' conceded Robby.

Standing there, in the elegant black lace underwear, I felt the last vestiges of my manliness drain away; I was a girl, a sissy, a femboi - call it what you want. My mind had already air-brushed away my bulging cock and balls, replacing them with the graceful smoothness of a lady's neatly cropped V of fur and a discrete stream-lined vulva; I saw myself as emasculated, devoid of cock, bereft of balls. Truly, now, in my mind at least, I could call myself a whore, a bitch. The bra only served to emphasise my lack of virility; strapped across my torso it proclaimed my effeminacy and declared my new-found gender to the world. The dream, the picture in my head, was so real that I found myself stretching a paw towards my crotch with the sole intent of fingering my moistening pussy.

'But wait until you see him in the tutu,' said Ricky, shattering my fantasy.

The tutu! In my excitement, or rather my ... distraction ... with the black lace, I'd forgotten about the tutu. I turned around and picked it up from the desk. 'How do I wear it? How do I even put it on?' I asked.

Musty shrugged. 'I don't know, don't ask me. Rats?'

'You just step into it,' said Ricky.

'Then gently pull on the bodice,' added Robby.

'I hope the basque isn't too tight,' worried Ricky.

'It should be all right, we chose it carefully,' said Robby.

'Just be careful,' warned Ricky. 'It was pretty expensive.'

'Yeah, the finest tulle we could find,' explained Robby.

'Well, the finest tulle we could afford,' admitted Ricky.

Bodice? Basque? Tulle? I was lost...

'Just step into it,' said Ricky, striding up to where I was standing.

'And we'll do the rest,' offered Robby, joining his mate by my side.

'Tut, tut, I'd been wearing tutus when I was years younger than you are now,' Ricky muttered to me.

'Only because Master forced you to,' said Robby.

'And? You were just a late developer,' riposted Ricky. 'You never worn lipstick until last year.'

'But I did get a ball gown before you, and a fairy outfit complete with magic wand.'

'I don't need a magic wand, I've got one of my own,' said Ricky, offering his paw for a high-five.

'Boys, boys, boys. Bitch boi is waiting to be dressed, if you don't mind.'

The two rats helped me into the tutu, explaining the different parts - the skirt, the elasticated basque and the bodice. The skirt was certainly very short but more than made up for it in terms of the flouncy frills, gathered fringes and sea of pearl-white sequins that covered the multitude of crenellated folds. And if I had thought the basque - that piece from the waist to high on the hip - was tight then I had even more of a shock when the two rats began to close the hooks and fasteners at the back of the bodice. 'It's going to be a snug fit,' warned Ricky, with tremendous understatement, pulling the material tight behind my back. 'But it should stretch a little and accommodate your fine athletic form,' promised Robby, grunting as he tried to bring the last few inches of bodice together. Eventually, after an apparently challenging final hook and fastener, the familiar sound of a ratty high-five behind me back signalled that I was now fully in tutu. Ricky and Robby returned to lean against the far wall, grinning.

Silence. The three other furs stood watching me. Waiting, and watching me expectantly.

I was still female, but had now regressed to the age of a young girl; I was a ballerina, or petit rat as they might say in the famous Paris Opera House. I was a child who yearned to perform on stage and win rapturous applause and standing ovations, using my lithe and supple body to woo and wow audiences around the world. I was years from my adolescence and first rush of teenage hormones. I was pure and chaste, I was innocent, I was a virgin.

'Come on then!' cried Ricky.

'You look the part!' encouraged Robby.

I tip-toed feebly around in a little circle on the spot.

The silence roared in my ears; my audience was not very appreciative.

I repeated the move, this time flapping my arms like some demented bird.

Then, 'Booo! Bor-ring!' cried Ricky. And, 'What a load of rubbish!' chanted Robby.

'What?' I asked.

'We want some quality ballerining,' said Ricky.

'Yeah, some quality baller-wotsit,' said Robby. 'Dancing and prancing and... stuff.'

'You wouldn't know quality arabesque if it fouettéd you on the backside,' I retorted.

'Oooh, get him with his fancy words!' cooed Ricky, in mock-jeer.

'Go on then, surprise us!' challenged Robby.

Slowly building confidence and slipping deeper into my femboi character, I assumed the arabesque pose and then delivered a delicate pirouette. I sautéd and bourréed and chasséd. I coupéd and croiséd and debouléd. I glisséd and pliéd and jetéd. In short, I pranced around the small attic room, twirling in circles, making small leaps, kicking my feet in and out, and curved arms in broad circles with a grace that surprised even myself. I span around, bowed down, arched my head backwards and generally attempted every move which sprang to mind that I could recall a ballet dancer doing or thought might be expected of them. Then, breathless, I paused and leaned against the desk, panting.

'Bravo! Bravo!' cried the rats. And, 'Encore! Encore!'

'I'm knackered,' I wheezed.

'Awww,' came twin rodent cries of disappointment.

'Maybe I can make it up to you in some other way?' I asked, the words escaping my mouth before I fully had a chance to consider them. Evidently, and paradoxically, my subby side was gaining dominance.

'Really?' asked Ricky.

'Can we, Master?' asked Robby.

The skunk looked at his two eager pets, then turned to look at me.

'I don't see why not, if the dragon boi has got any energy left,' he said.

'Yay!' came the squeal of two excited vermin who promptly hurried over to where I was waiting. Ricky span me around and started undoing the bodice, then both rats peeled off the tutu. Robby removed my bra, so I was left standing beside the desk with just a pair of black lace knickers to cover my throbbing dragon-hood.

'Close your eyes,' ordered Ricky. I shut my eyes and awaited further orders.

'Spread your bitch boi legs,' said Robby. I followed his instructions, moving my legs a couple of feet apart.

'Suck your right thumb,' commanded Ricky. It was a strange request, but nevertheless I raised my right paw and took the thumb in my mouth. 'Suck it!' scolded the rat. I began sucking on my thumb, the hollows of my cheek drawing in with each drag.

'Pull out your cock,' said Robby. I lowered my right paw, about to grasp my cock, when -

'No, with your left paw,' directed Ricky. I returned my right thumb to my maw, and used my left paw to pull my knicker elastic down over my cock and and tuck it below my balls, thus exposing my swollen dragon-meat which sprang forth to enjoy its unexpected freedom. Then I waited patiently for the next order, sucking gently on my thumb like a baby on a pacifier.

Ricky padded over to me and grabbed my cock, twisting it first one way and then the other.

'You call this a cock?' he asked. 'What a pathetic, feeble excuse for a prick. I've seen bigger dicks on a dormouse,' he sneered. 'What is it?'

I was still sucking my thumb but the rodent seemed to expect a response, so I removed my paw and replied: 'A pathetic, feeble excuse for a prick.'

'He's not even looking at it,' Robby ratted on me. 'He's just repeating what you say.'

'Open your eyes and look,' said Ricky. I opened my eyes and looked down at my distended cock lying in the rat's firm grip. He grabbed the bulging crimson head and rotated it almost full circle, the rigid shaft screwing round in sympathy. Then he ran a furry digit under the corona and around the rim of the glans, teasing my frenulum. 'Now, tell me again,' he said. 'And say it like you mean it.'

'Its a feeble, pathetic excuse for a dick,' I said. 'It... It's barely a dick at all. It's a little weiner. A tiny, little, worthless, winkle. It... It doesn't even deserve to be called that. I... I may as well have it cut off.'

'Ooh, not bad,' I heard Robby murmur under his breath, admiring my subby response.

'And you are?' asked Ricky.

'I'm a slut, a whore. I'm a worthless bitch boi dragon cum-bucket,' I replied. 'A cock-loving, cock-sucking slut.'

Ricky stretched out a paw and grasped my right nipple between two digits. I looked at him, and he steadily held my gaze until I conceded and had to lower my eyes to the floor. He rolled my teat tightly between his digits, causing me to inhale deeply from the heady mix of pleasure-pain; then he tightened his grip further, squeezing my pink-brown bud, and although my gaze was cast to the floor I could tell that he was watching my expression; watching my face for evidence of pain. 'Does it hurt, bitch boi?' he asked.

'Y-Yes, Mister Rat, Sir,' I replied. I wasn't sure how to address him, and there seemed little point in lying about the exquisite discomfort that he was causing.

Ricky released my nipple. 'Kiss it better,' he said to Robby, who lowered his head and took my battered teat in his mouth. He began suckling on it, with a skill that testified to his months if not years of previous nipple-teasing experience. I closed my ears, listening to his appreciative little slurps and relishing the sweet wet sensation of his tongue, but when he took my second teat in his other paw and began playing with that as well then I had to say something.

'I... I might cum if you keep doing that,' I said.

'Oh?' asked Robby. 'You're kidding?'

'It... It really turns me on,' I confessed, a dusky rose hue tinting my cheeks.

'You'd better stop then,' warned Ricky. 'Anyway, I want servicing.'

'I just wanna play with him,' whined Robby.

I looked at the two rats, my gaze flitting between them, making a mental note to never have two masters; or, at least, never be with two masters at the same time.

Standing behind the two rats, Musty sighed. 'Have him get him down on the floor, then,' he suggested. Ricky nodded towards the floor, a rather pointless gesture given that the skunk had just said the words aloud. I took a few steps forward and lay down on the rough carpet tiles, pleased for what I expected to be the opportunity to steal a few moments of rest. It was, of course, a foolish assumption for no sooner was I supine then Ricky had torn off his trousers and was sitting astride my chest with his butt towards my face. It didn't take me long to locate Robby either, for seconds later I felt paws removing my panties before nudging my calves apart, then pushing my knees outwards and finally spreading my thighs.

Musty came over and fixed a leash to my collar, then took the handle and settled himself down nearby, leaning back against a wall to watch the rats play with me.

'Clean me well, slut boi,' said Ricky, pushing his rump against my face, his puckered hole against my lips, flooding my nose with the aroma of his boyish butt-sweat. I edged my tongue out slowly until the tip touched his flesh, nervous of what to expect, of how he might taste. Yet the sub deep within me, that yearning to serve and burning hunger for abject humiliation, overrode any reticence about using my mouth to clean the rat's tail-hole. I pushed my tongue out further, harder, firmer and ran it in forceful circles around his pleasure passage. Above me, Ricky began to moan and grind his creamy rump back against my face. In response, my exposed cock twitched more firm...

... My exposed cock twitched more firm, until it was grasped and twisted and pulled down between my thighs by a furry paw. Robby was lying between my legs, playing with me. I felt a round rubber band being slid along my shaft and then a pair of paws took each of my defenceless balls, one after the other, and half-carefully half-roughly squeezed them through the black rubber loop until the cock-ring was in place and performing its singular role of maintaining my erection. Next, I felt a broad and powerful tongue wrap itself deftly around my cock-head, followed promptly by a pair of lips closing down over my enflamed member and sucking it into a warm wet mouth; a mouth that rose and fell, rose and fell, bobbing up and down the length of my shaft, deep-throating me.

'No, Robby!' barked the skunk. 'Bad rat! I don't want him cumming.'

'But Master,' cried the rodent. 'Just... Just take a look at his gorgeous cock. And it's sooo tasty.'

'You want to go in chastity for a month, rat? Maybe we should swap your roles, so bitch boi here gets all the fun and you're not allowed to cum? D'you want that?'

'No, Master,' said Robby. 'No, I'm sorry. He... He just looked so huge and ripe and ... scrumptious.'

'I know, little fella,' said Musty. 'But if we can't stay disciplined, how can we expect it of the bitch boi? I'm sure you could suck his balls, play with his butt, you'd just better not make him cum.'

'Thank you, Master,' replied the rat. 'And I'll be very careful.'

And with that, a pair of paws lifted my rump off the carpet, spread my cheeks and daubed liberal amounts of lube around my tail-hole. There followed a little fumbling between my thighs before the distinctive, smooth-firm tip of a butt-plug was run up and down my crack, being twirled around the streams of lubricant now running between my creamy cheeks. I waited, ready to brace myself, as two expert rodent paws slid the tapered tip towards my tail-hole and began to nose the plug into the tightly puckered entrance. My buttocks clenched in resistance, a really rather hopeless gesture of protest against a rat with a butt-plug; in fact, a laughably pointless action against a keen rat wielding a butt plug that was not only finely tapered but also very well lubed. Having said that, the slight resistance I offered made the rodent push a little harder causing an even greater shiver of pain-pleasure race down my spine as my tail-hole stretched to accept the plug's widest girth before closing itself snugly around the more narrow collar. The massive plug filled my hole, the only outward sign of its presence being the orange flange which prevented the object from disappearing totally inside me; but I knew where it was only too well, its gaping girth expanding my hole, and its curved tip now and again teasing my prostate as Robby pushed and rotated the butt-plug's base. Then, even as he continued working my tail-hole, I felt Robby wrap his mouth around one of my precious orbs, taking it into his mouth and toying it with his tongue. Moments later, its twin and fragile mate was also sucked in to the rat's large maw where they were both pushed and rolled, one instant together and the next instant apart, all the time being licked and lapped by Robby's skilful tongue.

'Hey, don't stop!' came a voice from above, reminding me of my own tongue's duties. Hastily I returned to servicing Ricky's rear entrance, so desperately subby by now that I couldn't plunge my tongue deep enough into his tail-hole, working to extract and enjoy every morsel of his taste, every shred of my servitude, every ounce of sublime humiliation.

Fapping. I could hear fapping.

It's a noise that, as a kid, you often find yourself trying to hide.

And it's a noise that, once heard, you never forget.

Something had changed in the way that Ricky was sitting on my face - his butt seem to be jerking - and something had also altered in the way that Robby was suckling on my balls - he seemed to be paying them less interest. Were both rats fapping? I wondered.

As if the the two rodents sensed my question, and by way of courteous response, they stood up; Ricky rising from my face, and Robby standing between my legs. I looked up and saw their giant unbridled cocks and frantic paw movements; yes, the two rats were fapping. They were both standing over me, the smell of pawed pre-cum hanging in the air, fapping their little rodent hearts out, until - I swear in perfect unison with each other - they both cried Ah, Ahh, Ahhh! and closed their eyes and tensed their muscles and arched their backs and slowed their breathing and pointed their dicks towards me and fired: four, five, and a sixth heavy load each, both rats shooting at the same time, every load spurting its creamy trail across my face and body.

'Done?' asked Musty.

'Yes, Master,' purred the two rats. 'Thank you for letting us play.'

'Good,' said Musty, standing to his feet. 'All right, then, bitch boi. Up!' he ordered, tugging on my leash.

I got to my knees, then stood fully up in front of the skunk, arms by my side and a skein of glistening rat-seed snail-trails trickling slowly down my cheeks and torso. I absolutely reeked of rat cum.

'Hey, you boys hadn't cum for a while, huh?' asked Musty, chuckling.

'You've not let us,' sang Ricky and Robby.

'Well, you can't complain this evening.'

'No Master,' agreed Ricky.

'We can't,' seconded Robby.

'By the window, boi, now,' ordered Musty.

I looked down at my naked body, spattered with copious salt-sticky rodent soda, and then swivelled around towards the window. Twilight was falling outside, the sky a fabulous violet-mauve tapestry fluffed here and there by tangerine clouds lit from below by a golden sun falling below the horizon. It was one thing to have stood in front of the window, stripped to my boxers, but another thing altogether to stand there buck naked with my impatient unserviced cock jutting up proudly, pointedly and - dare I say - majestically before me.

'You gotta problem, boi?'

My head shook no, and my hind paws walked me forwards. Musty followed close behind, holding my leash.

What more can I say? Somehow, somewhere, some little grey subby cells in my mind knew to do my master's bidding; they knew not to hesitate again and risk his wrath; they realised it was their duty to make me comply with the skunk's demands rather than let the remainder of my mind start weighing up options. And so it was that my fore paws moved as well, folding themselves on my head. I stole a quick look towards my groin; my sturdy cock winked proudly back up at me, its growing girth having forced the foreskin to retreat back from the head; it was desperate to be licked, or sucked, or pawed; thirsty for any furry touch at all.

Musty padded right up behind me, lay his paws on my hips and pulled me back a couple of steps; he nudged my right foot to one side, and my left foot to the other; he calmly took my two wrists, one in each paw, and guided me to lean against either side of the window frame; lastly, he placed a paw on my neck and applied gentle pressure, indicating for me to bend forwards a little towards the panes of glass. My eyes looked down at the darkening gardens below, then across to the silhouetted buildings opposite. Lights had been turned on in the school dormitories, and while some rooms had their curtains closed others were open and I could discern far-off figures moving about their evening business. My reverie was broken by a tender paw running down my spine, from the nape of my neck to the crack of my rounded buttocks.

'In case you're wondering...' said the skunk. 'Yes. Yes, you can be seen from the dormitories. I've told the other furs, and they're having a bit of a celebration tonight, on your behalf. I believe they managed to find a pair of binoculars, and a telescope from the astronomy club.' My knees almost buckled at this news. 'But don't worry, lil bitch boi,' Musty continued, caressing my curved rump, 'We're gonna leave the lights off in this room, and the furs know better than to tell anybody else. It's just our little secret.'

I nodded; I understood.

'So we'd best put on a good performance for them, hey?' he asked, slapping my cheeks.

'Yes, Master,' I said, unable to prevent my slutty cock from twitching and betraying my excitement.

'No need for this any more,' Musty said, and I winced as he pulled the plug from my tight pucker. 'Wide and well lubed,' he noted, and I could vouch for both those statements; my tail-hole had never felt so gaping open, and trickles of lubricant were running down my thighs, some even reaching my calves. 'And we'll let you off the leash for this, because it could get rather... lively,' he said, unclipping the lead from my collar.

'Fuck me, Master,' I said, once again my slutty side taking charge and voicing words before I had time to consider what I was saying. Then again, it was going to happen regardless of what I said. 'Fuck me hard.'

'Oooh yes,' Musty assured me.

And with that, the dominant skunk rubbed his massive beast up and down my crack, covering the monster in lube for its second servicing of the evening. I knew, from when Musty had taken me over the desk, just how large his cock was and I hoped that Robby's strategic - and obviously well planned - use of the plug had stretched me enough so that the skunk's entrance wouldn't be too painful.

'Brace yourself boi,' he warned, his cock settling over my nervous pucker. My leg muscles tensed, and my buttocks clenched together - involuntary rather than deliberate actions this time, for I knew they served no purpose as my topper adjusted his angle of entry. I gritted my teeth and braced myself against the window frame as the skunk held his probing member and steered it head-first into my tail-hole.

'Meep!' I cried as the giant mushroom head entered my ring. 'Uh, Uhh, Uhhh,' I whimpered.

'Good boi, good boi,' Musty cooed, resting a reassuring paw on my back. 'Almost in, almost in.'

I screwed up my face, held my breath and waited as he slowly slid the rest of his long shaft inside me, filling my tail-hole deeper than the plug that I'd been bearing a few moments earlier. I let out another small sobbing cry of pain, and Musty paused to let my sphincter accommodate to his size. 'You ok?' he asked. I waited until the ache subsided, and then nodded; I knew that I was a pain slut, but sometimes it comes too much and too quickly; there's a delicate line between the stabbing pang of initial penetration and the throbbing ache of subsequent thrusting. I nodded, and the skunk begun to fuck me, slowly - dare I say tenderly? - pulling his meat out, and then pushing back in. My body quivered with every sliding movement, his long plump shaft running the length of my hole, claiming my puckered passage as its own.

'Oh, fuck me, Master,' I begged. 'Fuck me, hard. Take me! Take me!!'

Musty accepted the invitation, resting his paws on my hips and beginning to thrust harder and deeper. I had thought his previous plunges were extreme, but now his renewed pounding - spurred on by my calls to be thoroughly taken - made me realise just how spectacularly endowed the skunk was as he repeatedly hilted me, his crotch crashing against my buttocks, his balls slapping against my thighs, his fierce cock plummeting far inside me, savagely ravaging my hole.

'Mm, Mmm, Mmmm,' I whimpered between short, sharp breaths; incapable now of any coherent thought let alone speech. My body, my mind, were drowning in ecstasy; flooded by pain and pleasure, immersed in bliss and rapture, I had reached that state of euphoria where nothing else matters, nothing else exists, besides a single overwhelming sense of -

'Ng, Ngh, Nggh,' Musty grunted and I was suddenly conscious that he had slowed almost to a stop; he must be close to firing his load. Sure enough, some distance inside me, I felt his dick twitch and then fire, twitch and then first, twitch and then fire; shooting a total of five, perhaps six, warm lashings of creamy spunk soda into my well pummelled hole. 'Ahhh,' he sighed, leaning forward onto my back while I took our combined weight by continuing to support myself against the window frame.

'Fuck,' I said, out loud but more to myself than anybody else in the room. 'Fuck, that was good.' We stayed there for another minute or two, catching our breath, our chests heaving and our bodies sweating. In many ways I could have stayed there for ever, in that hot and aching after-burn of sex, my master's massive erection still firm and still pinning me in place. It was getting late, however, and - I think with a tinge of regret as well - Musty straightened up and pulled himself out.

'Good boi, well done, well taken,' he praised, ruffling my hair in the way he knows I love.

And then, almost forgetting, he asked: 'You gonna leave me with this cum-covered cock?'

'Oh no, Master,' I replied. 'I couldn't possibly do that.'

I dropped to me knees and eagerly set about licking his wilting cock, cleaning the shaft and brushing my tongue over the barbed tip. As always, his skunk cum was delicious even if on this occasion it had been well blended with lube from my tail-hole. And either he had a voracious appetite, or my humble ministrations were more expert than I realised, because the softness began to dissipate from his proud member; his cock was returning to its former glory, or at least something pretty close and still astonishingly impressive. Hungrily, I took the skunk sausage in my mouth for the second time that evening, bobbing my head, working my lips along the shaft, sucking, massaging it with my tongue, and deep-throating it to the best of my ability. Musty cupped the back of my head against his groin and started thrusting, a few minutes later delivering a final but still welcome and unexpected four lashings of fresh skunk soda. I swallowed each of them with sheer delight.

'Right, boys, time to leave,' Musty said to his rat pets, as he got dressed. Then he turned to me.

'You tidy up, boi,' he said. I nodded, still kneeling on the floor, streams of cum from the earlier butt-fucking against the window still oozing out of my pillaged tail-hole.

'Same time next week?' I asked.

'Maybe,' he said. 'Maybe,' with a smile that I knew meant yes.

I murrred.

The End.