FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Hello everyone! This is the start of a new tale that just came to me - I hope you love it! It started as something else entirely, but I'm loving where it's going! PLEASE leave a comment if you enjoy it - even an 'I like it' really gives me a boost and shows that there are people interested! And please, favorite and rate these stories so others can find them too! Don't worry - I shall update quickly! Now, enjoy!

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A small gust of desert wind ran its nimble fingers through the tangled braids of Dakar's mane as he stood, quite still, outside the door, waiting. The large bovine's bulk was entirely relaxed, his hands folded gently behind his back and resting on the knot of his loincloth. Beautiful swirling patterns adorned his grey fur, tracing over his thick arms and across his muscled back, and accenting his cheekbones and the bridge of his snout.

Dakar let out a short breath, but otherwise remained motionless. He had knocked once - he knew he had been heard. The arched door before him stood tall and firm, a double-doored, majestic entrance made of solid oak, stained red, and braced with gold-plated fittings and guarded with two ringed knockers with the faces of lions. He glanced up, only for a moment, letting his eyes wander over the massive, sand-colored turrets and towers of the castle that stood before him, at whose main gate he now waited.

Footsteps. His ear flicked, but he quickly chided himself and returned it to its required place.

The door on the left creaked and slowly opened. A figure appeared, peering out at him. Dakar recognized the curled horn of a ram.

"Who goes there?" The ram asked in a low voice.

"Dakar. The King summoned from the plains of the south."

The ram's eyes narrowed. The door opened further, and the ram stepped into full view. Dakar regarded him, unsure but not disturbed just yet. The ram was clearly a palace guard - a leather, armored kilt shielded his thighs and hips, and a thick bandolier crossed from his left hip to his right shoulder, leaving his muscled chest bare. A curved scimitar hung from his left hip. The ram looked him up and down, from his hooves to his horns, and snorted.

"You're the one?"

"I... presume?"

The ram cocked an eyebrow, then shook his head.

"I truly don't understand, but I suppose you should follow me." The ram turned and re-entered through the grand gate, holding the door open for him.

Dakar couldn't fathom how, after a two-day journey, he was being given such a cold reception- but he let nothing show on his face. He released his arms to let them hang at his sides, and followed.

The ram closed the door behind him and slid a barricade over it with a loud bang. For a moment Dakar stood stunned.

He now stood in a spectacularly opulent Hall with a ceiling that towered far above him, supported by mighty pillars carved in ornate, highly detailed ancient scripts and accented with rings and crowns of gold and silver as they rose into the sky. Swirling mosaics comprised of precious red, blue, green, and white stones drew figures, suns, moons, and stars along the floors and walls, littering the entire room with glorious artwork beyond compare with anything Dakar had ever seen - the most beautiful of artwork of his people, the tattoos on their bodies, was nothing compared to what stretched before him for a quarter mile at least. Sunlight streamed from the high windows, kissing the mosaics with beams of liquid fire. At the farthest end of the room stood a dais, two great chairs carved from living stone and adorned with flawless rubies standing guard atop it. Dakar stood motionless for a moment, overcome.

"This way," said the ram, gesturing broadly with one arm, and began to walk away across the room. Dakar shook himself and followed, suddenly conscious of how loud his hooves echoed in the massive, empty chamber.

The ram led him just to the dais, then turned right and they passed through a doorway into a large hallway that was also devoid of anyone. Dakar's spine tingled as he walked, his senses unconsciously growing more and more alert in the silence of their lonely journey. It was odd, he thought, that they had yet to meet anyone else.

The hallway turned right once more, and abruptly ended in a simple, arched doorway with a brass handle.

"This is his majesty's private chambers," the ram explained, stepping to the side and watching Dakar cooly. "Knock, and if he bids you enter, do so. Do as you're told, favored one, and you will be fortunate."

And with that, the ram turned and walked away, his footsteps echoing down the long hallway and fading out of earshot. Dakar remained still for a long few minutes, unsure of himself for the first time in a long while. He had been summoned by the King himself, but had not been told why. And he was to see the King alone, in his private chambers, presumably with no guard. Was this some kind of trap? But what kind could it possibly be? He himself was no royalty, nor the son of anyone of any political or monetary position. A proud provider and defender of his land and his people, yes, but surely there were thousands like him in the kingdom.

Seeing no other way to find answers, Dakar approached the door, lifted a hand, and rapped his knuckles on the age-worn wood.

There was silence for a moment. Then, movement behind the door.

"Is it you?" A deep, sonorous voice quietly asked, clearly just on the other side.

"...Yes," Dakar finally spoke, giving the only answer that he thought made sense. The latch clicked. Dakar's arms reflexively twitched as the door was flung open.

A lion stood framed in the doorway, eyes wide and bright, taKing in a swift breath of air as he laid eyes upon Dakar. Brilliantly clean blonde fur luxuriously coated his rippling musculature, which was bare save a simple kilt of soft white cotton wrapped around his waist. His black mane, shining like polished ebony, drifted down from the crown of his head and from his neck, gracing his shoulders and flowing like water, not a tangle present. His eyes, blue as molten sapphires, pierced into Dakar's for several seconds, and a smile began to curl easily at the corners of his open mouth.

Dakar blinked. He'd never laid eyes on someone so immaculately clean and groomed before. He ducked his head and lowered himself into a bow.

"Your Majesty," he said, his voice soft.

"Please, come in," the King answered. when Dakar rose to his full height again, he found the King with his back to him, walKing into his chambers and leaving the door open. Now thoroughly nonplussed, Dakar followed, gently closing the door behind him.

The King's private chambers were no less opulent than the grand hall, however they were much smaller, and no expense had been spared for comfort or luxury. A shallow stone pool full of crystal-clear water trickled in the far corner of the room, and nearest to him stood an enormous bed bathed in a thick red comforter and a dozen silk pillows. Four wooden posts rose up from the corners of the bed, and a canopy of linens draped overhead like soft clouds that even now drifted in a cool breeze that filtered in through the window. Across from the bed, next to the pool, sat a place for lounging, a circle sunk by steps into the stone and softened by ornate rugs and blankets of the finest cloths Dakar had ever seen. The King himself stood at the foot of the bed, sunlight tracing a halo of gold around the fur of his mane as it streamed into the room from the window behind him, giving him the appearance of a god.

It was only now that Dakar realized the look that the King was giving him - he wasn't meeting Dakar's eyes consistently: his gaze was roving all over Dakar's body.

Dakar swallowed, then finally found his voice.

"Your Majesty, you have summoned me, and I am here," he began simply.

"Indeed you are," the King huffed. "Please, come closer. Step into the light."

Caught off guard again, Dakar stepped around the bed and moved to stand directly in front of him, where he'd been told.

"Oh, excellent. The stories didn't do you justice, did they?"

"... stories, your Majesty?"

"Yes, stories," the King replied, walKing around him. Dakar stayed still, allowing himself to be observed. Only an ear flicked when the King took hold of his tail and ran his fingers along it from base to fuzzy tip as he walked about him. A sinister trickle of warning slipped into his thoughts, but he held his ground, remained unmoving, as he should.

"They told me that you were the most beautiful in all the land, and they did not lie," the King continued as he came around to face him again. And again their eyes did not meet - the King stared instead at Dakar's chest.

"Beautiful?" Dakar wondered. "Why would you want... a male who was beautiful?"

The King laughed, flashing his perfectly white teeth and long fangs.

"Oh many, many people have asked me that question. But I say..."

The King stepped closer to Dakar, his eyes narrowing, a feral grin forming on his lips.

"That is only the business of myself, and the one that they bring me."

And the King's clawed paw pressed into Dakar's genitals. The thick fingers squeezed, pressing his penis into the skin of his large orbs, fingertips curling underneath his scrotum. Dakar stared eye to eye with the King, paralyzed. No.... No..... this couldn't be why he was summoned.... surely they knew. Surely they would never dare.

"Isn't that right, beautiful one?" The King continued, baring his lethal smile to him. Dakar only heard the voice distantly. But the ice that had flooded his veins had quickly begun to thaw, giving way to the flood of fire boiling in his chest.

"Why don't we... take this cumbersome thing off..." The King purred, giving Dakar's leather-covered parts another squeeze and then releasing them. "And we can go into the pool and get to know each other..."

Time slowed. Dakar looked down to see the King's fingertips touching the top of his loincloth.

"...better..."

The hand slipped down past the border of the fabric, and a finger touched the tip of Dakar's sheath.

"NO."

Dakar snapped his hips back and took hold of the lion's wrist in a firm grip, nostrils flared, eyes wide and filled with fury, his heart pounding as he stared at the thunderstruck King.

"You will not touch me again!" Dakar bellowed. He put both hands on the King's chest and shoved with all his might. The King stumbled backwards and fell into his lounging pit, tripping and landing hard on his rump. For a moment the two stared at each other, the King with his mouth agape in shock, Dakar with his breath heaving, legs spread and arms out, ready to fight, his blood pounding.

"Guards!" The King suddenly shouted.

A noise of sudden thunder behind him. Dakar turned, raising his hands-

The door burst open and four men armed with spears and shielded by bronze plate armor piled in, leveling the points of their weapons in Dakar's face.

The King rose to his feet.

"Get him out of here!" The King bellowed, an animal snarl in his throat. "Throw him in the darkest corner of the prison, and leave him there until he learns his place!"

Two guards rushed in and grabbed Dakar roughly by both his arms. He resisted for a moment, but quieted when a third guard touched the point of a spear to his throat.

"Go!" The King shouted. And they marched Dakar from the room. He didn't look back. He lowered his head and let them lead him where they would.

Across the hall. Down a dizzying flight of spiral stairs. Under the ground. Into a low-ceilinged, dark room filled with cold, harsh cages. Several were occupied, Dakar sensed, but he did not look at them. The only light in the room came from a single, one-inch slit in the ceiling in the center of the space - otherwise everything lay in half-shadow, with figures and bars being the only shapes he could decipher.

They opened one of the cages with a creak of a hinge, and the two guards let go of his arms. A spear poked him in the back, and he quickly stumbled inside. The door slammed shut and the lock snapped with brutal finality. Dakar turned back to the guards, his eyes welling up as he watched the shadows of the guards fade away, until even their footsteps disappeared. He stood motionless, waiting for his eyes to adjust. But no amount of waiting could help him understand what had just happened.

His tears fell, tracing across his blessed tattoos that he knew were there but could no longer see.

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There you go! Don't worry, I update quickly! PLEASE let me know what you think! I love hearing your thoughts!!!!!