FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

What's Precious

By Zatarra L. Vulpe

"You know what's beautiful about blood?"

The ram shivers in his shackles. I have the knife on his throat again. I can feel my muzzle twisting at the corners into a manic smile while my eyelids drop, utter seduction in other circumstances. He can't answer of course, ball gag with some leather straps around the jaw, not too tight of course. Sometimes I lock it, others I keep it undone just to see if he'll try and get out when I'm this close. He could snap on my muzzle. It would certainly be painful.

"To put it short, everything."

Just as I hit the 'ee' sound in 'every' I move the point gently along the nape of his neck. The knife is dual edged, flat like a spade and the edge was sharpened today. The cut is just small enough that he can't immediately tell that he's even open, but after a moment he feels the sting. It's nothing, would heal in minutes if I let it, but the bindings and my attitude probably aren't helping anything for shock.

"But you're here, and you're not saying anything, so I guess I can take a little time to elaborate, if you don't mind of course, just speak up if you've heard this all before."

His eyes widen, nostrils flare, muscles tense with a small creak of that lovely black leather. If I focus I can feel his breath and hear the jackhammer in his chest. He doesn't struggle really. I know he wants to. His dilation is what really gets me. Sheep pupils are horizontal, practically rectangular slits. I dunno if he has a wider range of vision, but it's precious. Not quite panic. Still delicious.

"Blood," I make a show of lapping his off of the knife, "is life."

He tries to pull away when the edge of the knife drifts onto his chest, through the wool, but not to skin. Metal on hair is so gentle, like snow falling. One must be absolutely still to hear it, usually, unless the blade is turned flat and that is simply no fun. He can feel it, so close.

"There is no better visual sign of_damage_ to a living being."

The blade strokes up his sternum. The cut's thin, but I might have been a little enthusiastic. It is a little long, maybe six inches. Still, harmless, but he recoils as if punched.

"That's why it's everywhere in the movies. 'Special effects.' Gaudy. Terrible. Never the genuine article, and always too much. Wouldn't you agree? Speak up if you don't."

His screams were always muffled. I know he can't take too much at once. That's why I space them out, give him a while to anticipate when the next cut will happen. Go too fast and he might faint.

"No, blood is red, obvious on the skin, it doesn't take terribly much to spot it. It's not hard to see why it's everywhere, but..."

I put the blade behind my back, I could feel the wet steel up against the join between tail and spine. I'm crouched a little. I'm close enough. He could easily shift the wrong way and smack into my muzzle, might even knock me down. I'm not terribly strong, even with how vulnerable he is, I'm at least half as much.

My tongue darts out, at the little 'v' that starts the slash on his chest. His moan sounds enough like cattle. My arms are on his chest, his muscles twitch in a scared way, but that could be the knife under his armpit. The pennies are on my tongue and I can barely help myself. I feel strange impulses. I want to go deeper, I want to tear his skin open and just shove my head in until I can wrap my jaws around his heart and feel it pulse.

"Blood is precious. There isn't so much of it inside you, just a pint is a lot to take out. Which is a shame, because yours tastes so good."

He feels like he can read my thoughts. He starts thrashing and twisting against the hard metal shackles and chain. He has enough give to make it seem like he could escape. He can hurt me, in fact one of his fist pumps nearly knock the knife out of my hand.

"Ah ah ah, ca-alm down."

My knife is on his thigh, patting near where his leg creases into his groin. It's firm, powerful, well exercised, but it would cut. Even his package wasn't bad, his rather weighty left was nearly touching the blade. My free paw grasps, they're like a pair of eggs.

"Be a good toy."

The tugging stops, his chains go a little slack. I can feel him shaking, and not just down there. I've got him now in a few different ways. He tenses like I'll cut them off, like they're trying to retreat. Just to put the idea in his head I let the knife drift a little close to my paw, just enough that he feels the cool metal.

"There we go, don't want me to slip do you?"

I can see his sheath stirring whilst he inhales a little sharply. Hmm, didn't know this was a turn on, I make a mental note whilst the knife slides in a little outline around the organ. My paws are skilled, nothing nicked, but I feel the wicked smile playing at the corners of my mouth. I think he can tell when my dark little fantasies are playing through my head, twisted impulses in the midst of an already twisted predicament.

"Now what was I saying? Oh right, blood."

I choose then to rub the flat of the blade from the left of his stomach to the right. It's cold and hard and it puts pressure on his belly and it hurts, but it isn't sharp. He tries screaming again as it slides just below his belly button and he stares down, waiting for pain that won't come as the knife slides clean off of his hip. Well, I do leave a little nick on his hip. I'm eager, I can feel my own sanguine pulse in my ears.

"Even with a serious wound like one right here," I grope his stomach right below the navel, like I'm grabbing his sweetbreads, "there isn't so much blood, mostly those delicious organs, and those can leak pretty well, right? They do in my opinion anyway, internal hemorrhaging and what not, or I guess _ex_ternal in your case."

His breathing slows. His cock is up against my palm now. Warm throbs in a regular lub-dub tense against himself as my hand opens, claws dancing over reddish flesh and wooly sheath. I lick my lips.

"O-oh, what a naughty toy, this talk isn't getting you hot and bothered is it? Maybe I should shut up or... Well... Focus on my oral fixation, hmm?"

I slip to my knees and put the knife to the tiny wound in his hip. My muzzle's open and my tongue is on his glans. My teeth are so close to his flesh. I suck on it and looked up into his chest, the nice pecs heave, his nipples practically bouncing. So hard, poor baby. My blade slices another neat little cut just above the first on his hip and my muzzle sinks onto his flesh. My tongue is lapping up the front of his dick in warm, wet suckles. I've been told I'm good with my muzzle, the way his exhales puff out in sighs and his groans have that needy little timbre, in a way that isn't just pain.

He's warm and clean, he smells a little musky with each little sniff. My mouth opens, letting his manliness pulse into his 'wound.' I kiss his hip, tracing the 'sweetbreads' down to the real deal with my muzzle, the pair of oozing little incisions. My tongue danced over them and I started to suckle them, feel the warmth as my pad wrapped around his dick. I wanted more. It wouldn't take much. A nice slice on one of his major arteries and I would have a nice flood, soaking my muzzle. Each little pull on broken flesh gave me a potent, salty copper burst that makes me shiver as much as he does with each stroke on his slick schlong.

"Mmhmm."

I'm gripping his base until the throbbing on his dick is shaking my hand. I could probably get him with a handjob if I felt like it, but I come back, mouth on him. My muzzle can fit this part of him, but only just. This time my teeth gently graze along him with each back and forth until I get into a fast, rhythmic bob up and down, back and forth, tugging and licking. He's so tense, trying so hard not to thrust. It's cute. He's close.

Two more strokes. He grunts and tries not to move as he sprays into my muzzle. I clamp down. It jumps up against the roof of my mouth with each spurt, but I get every drop, I'm just loose enough to keep any teeth from nicking his dick. He's harder than iron and it's not going down. I have a few seconds of mental debate as to whether a sheep's refractory period is as flexible as mine, but I take the safe route.

I'm up with the rag over his muzzle. He grunts with eyes wide, but I put the knife on his trachea again.

"Breathe deep, toy."

The first one makes him a little sluggish. The second has his eyes shut. I pull away for the third. He's slack in the chains, arms limp. I slide the knife into a little sheath on my thigh while I listen to his breathing. All normal. I slip off the ballgag and start unlocking the chains, starting with legs and then the left arm. I've got him under the armpits. I still have the bitter taste in my mouth, licking my lips. Maybe...

I'm behind him, I slip him into the van's back end. I put a pair of loose bindings on his ankles and tie his arms down around his waist. He's lying in the back seat and is buckled tight. I'm driving slow. The van would be suspicious anywhere, but the sunrise isn't for another two hours. I'm at his house in thirty minutes, moving at the speed limit and abiding all traffic laws.

He's got his house key in his clothes. I frown. If I were around him more, I'd... No. The van's in park, off. The key opens the garage side door. No alarm, no visible sensors. I sigh. I move very slowly in the dark, until I can feel a little latch on the main garage door. I try to imagine I'm stretching, but I try to be as soundless as I can with the metal panels. Slowly, slowly. They're up. I jump back to the van, switch it to neutral and push it in while I try not to pay attention to the other car. I have the door adjoining the garage and the house open. I glance around the house as little as possible, finding a couch in a decently sized living room. I keep my eyes down after that and make it back to the van. I slide his bindings off and manage to pull him back into the house. The time from the van and the couch are countless breaths. I pull a small slip of paper out of the belt for my sheath. I scribble down the address of the last abandoned car I found, off the highway, sundown about a month from now.

A heavy click behind me.

"I knew it, you shit."

I freeze.

"Hands on the counter."

They're on the counter, fingers splayed out.

"Now who the fuck do you think you are? Kidnapping? Stealing?"

Nothing comes to my muzzle. I can't look up. I'm totally still though.

"Guess it doesn't matter. You're a lowlife, I can tell. I should put a bullet in you and save the cops the trouble. You got anything to say?"

I shake my head.

"Huh. Not even gonna plead innocent. Not that it'd help you. I've been around this neighborhood thirty years and never seen anyone with the kind of balls to try what you think you can, you're red handed and totally fucked."

I try not to move. I try not to imagine the gun on my back. I try not to imagine a hole opening up in my chest and pain ripping through my body. I try not to imagine the darkness beyond.

"Francis."

I look up, eyes wide.

"I got 'em, don't you worry, you just have to call the cops if that's what you-"

"No, it's okay."

"What?"

"I... I know this person."

"What do you mean?"

"They're not doing anything wrong. They're just fine, I am too."

"But... You, your chest, you-"

"I know, don't worry about it, it's none of your business. Put the gun away and I'll explain things."

My teeth grit hard in my muzzle as I hear his hooves clopping past me. I hear the gun click again. The sets of footsteps are in the garage now. I... I can't move. I still feel it on me. The gun. I can't. I don't know how long I'm there. I can't breathe. My body can't move. I...

When I wake up again he's sitting beside me, looking down at me. I'm on the couch this time. I'm groggy for a second but then my eyes are open wide. His seem tired. The sunlight is filtering into the room through one of the windows toward my feet.

"Hey."

I can see the corners of his muzzle turning up slightly. "Wha-"

"You passed out, hyperventilated I think."

"Oh."

The silence stretched for a little while, the rectangular slats of his eyes danced over my body for a split second.

"You feel okay?"

I nod. I can't form words.

"Good. Want breakfast?"

My mouth moves before I can think. I think I said yes.

"It's okay, you're safe here."

He smiles at me. It's one of those beautiful, gentle smiles, the kind I only see in movies, it doesn't look forced. He walks away for what seems like an hour. I can just focus on a spot on the ceiling. I can't think. It's not that there's nothing happening in my head, I just feel like there's too much, like if I latch onto any one thing I'm going to start screaming or crying or laughing or all of the above.

"I don't know what you like, so I just went with a little of everything. You're an omnivore, right?"

He chuckles a little at that, the ceramic clattering on the table with a fork and knife. It's a neat mess of scrambled eggs, what looks like a sausage substitute, a pair of neat toast wedges with off-red colored jelly smeared over them.

I sit up. I'm not wearing anything. Even my knife sheath is gone. I've got a sheet covering me. The coffee table is slightly above my knees. I look down at the plate and back up to him.

"You're hungry, right? If not it's okay."

The fork clangs against the ceramic as I spear the sausage. I practically inhale it. It's delicious. Bursting with meat. It reminds me of his... of sucking on his...

"Is it good?"

"Y-you're not... Mad or anything..."

"Why would I be? You're amazing. I don't know how you do it, even when you were talking about blood, it was too much, you knew how to get mine pumping for sure."

He's smiling. I can't see a shred of doubt there, it's one of the most genuine faces I've ever seen.

"I mean, I know this is awkward, really, I just... You know, I don't want you to feel like you're in danger, or I am, you know?"

The way his brow cocks. My heart's melted to about somewhere in my guts. I feel them churning around and trying to escape somewhere, maybe out of my tail.

"I can... Understand if you... Don't want to do this, you know. I... I would like to get to know you though. I mean we've only met a few times but you're so... You're so... I feel like I'm comfortable with you, like things are always going to be okay with you."

My teeth are digging into my lip. No. Not good. No. We've been fucking around for five months and we haven't connected or anything. We haven't 'dated.' I know his address, his body shape, his name on a website and that's it. I've been cutting him up and treating him like meat for nearly half a year. I have appetites and he fulfills them and... And what? I don't know. Everything just feels like it dead ends.

"Are you okay? I don't want to scare you or-"

"Do you know what the most important thing about blood is?"

It spurted out of my mouth before I could stop myself. This is it. He thinks I'm a freak and I'm out on my ass right now. I brace for it.

"What's that?"

My vision isn't really holding on him. "It's... It's when it's... given..."

"Uh huh?"

"It's... It's the most... precious gift... It's giving your life."

He nods.

"it's... It's... The most direct way of telling someone else that... I.. I'll... I'd die for you, even in small..s-small..."

I'm shaking. I can't finish. My brain's locked up tight and the words won't come out and my muzzle isn't opening and I feel like I can't breathe again and-

Now he's holding my hand.

"That's beautiful, I never thought of it that way, but it makes sense."

I feel a pain in my chest. I can't tell if it's really physical. He leans in and puts his arms around me. I feel his curled horn up against my cheek.

"You're beautiful. You... You might not want to know me, but, I'm glad I can know you."

I'm a little hesitant at first, but then my arms are around his waist. It feels awkward at first, but then I feel the scars at his hip. He's so strong. So soft, but so strong. I can smell him, his gentle smell. My orange muzzle is just that much brighter against his white fur.

"Do... Do you want to know me?"

I can feel my heart hammering. It's so hot. The sun is in my eyes. His arms are around me. I can smell him. My muzzle is in his shoulder, hair down. There are a thousand thoughts running through my head, micro fantasies of my life with this man. I feel sick, but he feels magnetic. I try to remember before this moment and it's slipping from my mind into this wool. I finally feel like I can breathe.