FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

(Written for my good friend Draugr, some time ago. Randall belongs to him, and was used with permission.)

It was one of the worst days Damien could have had. What is worse to a salesman than to waste your time on customers who you don't discover until the last minute that they weren't going to buy?

The answer, Damien thought, was to have four in a row collectively occupy your entire day.

As a result, the wolf was exhausted when he parked, and dragged himself into the house. He opened the door with a sigh, stepped from the concrete of the garage onto the hard-wood floor of the far-end of the living room... and found a surprise.

Instead of reading a book as he often was, the younger wolf had energetic music on the stereo, and had all the lights in the kitchen on.

"Randall?" he asked loudly as he walked in.

"In the kitchen, master!" came the reply.

Damien padded in to find that the wolf busy on the stove with a frying pan. "You never told me about dinner, master," he offered with a smile, "so I thought I would make club sandwiches!"

It was probably the most elaborate thing Randall would dare to cook on his own, including the bacon and grilled bread.

"Thank you, Randall. I appreciate that," he answered with a warm smile -- and watched Randall's reaction carefully.

The younger wolf smiled back -- but his ears unconsciously folded under the elder wolf's gaze. And that was cause for suspicion.

Randall never liked cooking. When he did, he wanted to impress his "owner". Sometimes it was because he wanted to ask for something, but other times -- like now, when he seemed a little on-edge -- it was because he'd done something wrong.

"It smells like you're close," he replied.

"Um, yeah, just gotta finish the bread, master," he answered with noticeable strain in his voice.

"While you do, I'm going to change into something more comfortable." He headed through the kitchen, back to the master bedroom. It was still locked. Once he unlocked it with his house key, he didn't find anything messed up inside. So, he just changed out of his "sales" clothes into his more usual T-shirt and sweat pants.

"Master!" he heard faintly through the wall, after what seemed like only a moment, "dinner's ready!"

Damien knew he could search the house after dinner, so just returned, and planned to enjoy his sandwich.

***

"That was a very nice dinner, Randall," he rewarded. "What made you decide to do it?"

"I just... wanted to show you how much I love you, master," the wolf replied with another ear fold.

This was going to be big, Damien thought.

"But is there a... more specific reason?" he asked with a stern note in his voice.

"Well... yes, master, but I'd rather wait until later tonight to tell you," answered the wolf nervously.

"Very well, Randall," Damien replied. "You've done such a good job with dinner, and I've had such a bad day, I'll let you enjoy the evening. You get on the couch and pick a movie, I'll do the dishes."

"Okay, master," answered the wolf, standing up from his chair immediately.

Once Randall walked out of the room, Damien put everything in the sink; and as he did, looked around the kitchen. What Damien didn't mention was that he was going to try and figure out what Randall actually did.

The cabinets were stocked, the right number of pots and pans were under the stove; the oven was off and clean; no dirty utensils except the frying pan and his grill tongs. Nothing was out of place.

He did the dishes -- still looking for char marks or other things wrong -- but found nothing.

What did Randall mess up, the elder wolf demanded silently to himself.

"Master!" a voice suddenly called, "I've picked a movie!"

"You can start it," called back Damien, "I'll be there in a minute!"

He looked around the kitchen, over to the dining room, and then past that down the hall. He decided he had to figure this out.

Once Damien heard the TV set, he crept down the hall to the guest bathroom. The door was closed. Opening it, he found everything was in order... except that the cupboard was open.

Looking in the cupboard, he found the First Aid Kit missing. After a brief search, he found it had been moved under the sink.

Did he hurt himself while I was at work? Damien thought. Randall looked okay, and surely he would have told me if he did...

He went across the hall to Randall's room -- and the disaster revealed itself the moment he opened the door.

Even before he could open it half way, he found black and grey shards all over the floor, radiating from the nearby wall. The shards went all the way to the door -- creating quite a hazard for anyone who would try to enter or leave.

That gave him a heart attack: Randall must have hurt himself! But he didn't seem to be in pain, so what happened?

Craning his neck around the corner of the door frame, he had the answer: the controller of Randall's video game console was hanging through the flat-screen TV. Even after making the spider-webbed hole in the screen, it even still had enough force to make a visible dent in the wall behind it.

Well, the mystery was solved. Randall would indeed need to be punished, Damien thought. He almost sighed at the thought, wishing he didn't have to. If he was going to find it within him to do this, he would have to make it more interesting than just yelling at him or the usual "restitution" Randall usually paid, often involving his muzzle. The elder wolf went back to the master bedroom, and after unlocking it, covered his tracks by flushing the toilet in the master bathroom. With a slam of the door rather loudly behind him, he strode back into the living room.

"Okay, Randall," he said cheerfully, "let's see what you've pic-- oh, Randall! How many zombie movies are there, anyway!?" he exclaimed in jest.

Randall just looked up at him with a playful smile. "A lot, master," he replied, "and I haven't seen them all yet!"

"Okay, fine," Damien sighed with a smile, pulling the wolf into his lap. Once Randall was comfortable, it would be a relaxing evening... at least, for a while. Until the movie was over, and Damien could think of a suitable punishment that he could get more enjoyment than usual from...

***

Damien didn't remember going to sleep, but he woke up. Before he opened his eyes, however, he heard Randall ask, "master?.... Master?"

He decided to stay stationary to see what Randall wanted, and if it would be worth waking up for it.

"Master? Ngh..." Randall started trying to lift the chunky arm Damien had wrapped around him, but Damien held it firm.

"Master," the wolf whined, "please wake up, it's important...

Since those were special words indeed, Damien decided he couldn't pretend anymore.

"Ugh... what, Randall," he groaned.

"Master, I need to pee," he answered, desperation audible in his voice.

Damien slowly opened his eyes to see Randall looking up at him from his chest, head turned upside down. "It's urgent, master," he added.

The tone of Randall's voice suddenly put the idea in Damien's head: the perfect punishment.

"I rather like laying on the couch with you," he replied, trying to warm up his sadistic streak, "just how urgent is it?"

Randall seemed taken aback by this unusual answer. "Pretty urgent, master..."

"Can you wait five more minutes?" Damien insisted.

Randall squirmed again and thought. After a long pause, he finally answered, "b-barely, master."

"In five minutes, I'll let you get up. Until then --" He reached for the smaller of two books on the table behind him. "-- you can read your book while you wait."

Randall looked quite unnerved by the idea, but took the book, and re-opened it.

Damien didn't expect to nap, but didn't expect to be kept that awake: Randall squirmed, fidgeted, and gave a groan or whine occasionally, like he was a puppy or something.

He knew the wolf's bladder wasn't huge when he bought Randall, but it had never been an issue... until now, when he could make it one. And it was probably the best example to make of Randall, given what the wolf had told Damien about his previous masters' fetishes.

"M-master," the wolf interrupted after what Damien only perceived as a short time, "I hope my five minutes are up, because it's really urgent now... And I've told you what will happen if you make me wait too long..." His voice had raised in pitch, so clearly it was serious now.

"Then let's go," answered the elder wolf.

He allowed Randall to get his feet swung over the couch -- but when the wolf tried to stand, he grabbed ahold of his collar. "Hey now," Damien teased, "you go where your master leads you."

"I'll follow you wherever you want, master," begged the wolf, who was crossing his legs now, "if there's a bathroom at the end."

"C'mon."He led Randall through the kitchen, toward the master bedroom. Putting the key in and turning it, all with one hand, he unlocked it. After pulling Randall in, he opened a chest of drawers, pulled out a pair of handcuffs.

"Let me take your hands, Randall," he instructed warmly.

"Oh master," whined the wolf, even as he allowed his hands to be pulled behind his back, "please don't fuck me... I don't think I'll be able to hold it through that..."

"Don't worry, I won't," reassure the elder wolf. And it was true -- he had something else in mind, which Randall would find much less pleasant.

Once Randall's wrists were clicked in, Damien led the now-perplexed and more shaky Randall out of the master bedroom, and toward the bathroom down the hall. But rather than going in, as Randall was expecting, he jerked the wolf's collar the other way toward his room.

The moment Damien put his hand on the doorknob, Randall suddenly cried, "Master! Don't open it!"

Damien was taken aback by the sudden language, glaring at the wolf as his first reaction -- just to get Randall's ears to fold again. But he knew what was inside, and Randall was powerless to stop him between his wrists and his bladder, so he opened it anyway.

The moment the door opened, and the scene appeared before the two of them, Randall's winced, as if his master were about to strike him.

Damien let Randall stay this way for a moment, and only when the wolf opened an eye, did he say: "Randall? Do you have anything to say for yourself?"

"I'm... I'm really sorry about the TV set, master! I just got so mad, I... I can't justify it. I accept my punishment."

But that's not what Damien wanted to hear. "...And?" he asked.

"And I'm sorry I didn't clean it up better, I tried, master, I tried! But I couldn't find the vacuum cleaner! ... Aren't you going to punish me now?"

"... What else, Randall?" he asked calmly.

The wolf seemed to be lost in thought. But finally answered, "I... I don't know, master."

"Then step into the room, carefully." He instructed.

Randall did, and his master led him to a corner opposite the damage, where he stood, still squirming, looking confused at the elder wolf.

Damien unbuttoned Randall's jean-shorts, and slid them down, revealing his white briefs, and the clear outlines of his buttocks and male private parts. Randall shuddered, but obediently didn't move.

"Step out of your pants," his master stated coldly.

Randall did so, awkwardly, uncrossing his legs just long enough to do so.

"Submission position," his master instructed.

Randall seemed to get shakier as he turned the rest of his body toward his master, slowly letting his crossed legs fold to support his weight as he slid to his knees. Then he uncrossed them, and changed to bowing them in response to the urges of his full bladder. It was technically the submission position, as his knees were together, and his arms were behind his back.

"Do you still have to pee?" the elder wolf asked sharply.

"Of course, master!" whined Randall in resignation and pain.

"How bad?" he asked.

"I don't know what you're getting at, master," he begged, voice reaching the same higher pitch, "but if you keep me here much longer, I'll make a mess!"

"Randall," asked Damien, voice growing calmer and frostier at the same time, "when you were apologizing, you missed the thing that I think was most important."

He paused a moment to watch the wolf squirm painfully, giving Randall a split second to answer. The wolf didn't have a clue.

"I'm not that upset that you broke my TV and didn't tell me at dinner. I'm upset that you injured yourself and didn't tell me at all."

He paused again, judging how close the wolf was to his limit to hold in his liquid. Deciding Randall was at it, it was time to punish him.

"You must always tell me if you hurt yourself. Always! And to help you remember this lesson, you're going to stay in that submission position until you pee yourself."

Randall looked up at him with stark terror -- the terror Damien expected if he were to tell Randall he was going to be neutered.

The wolf opened his mouth, but before he could make a sound, Damien yelled, "Silence!

And silence filled the room as he commanded.

"You're going to sit there, and not move, until you pee yourself. You might as well end the agony and just do it."

Silence fell again. But the wolf just winced and squirmed, not moving. Apparently, his many years of potty training were having their effect.

So, Damien reached down, and pressed on the wolf's pelvis, squeezing him -- and after a couple of high-pitched whines, sure enough, the liquid started running out of the front of Randall's briefs, slowly down the fur of his legs, and onto the carpet.

Damien just watched the wolf's face grow redder and redder as the liquid poured out of him... until finally, after a good 30 seconds, it dripped to a stop.

"Now tell your master where you hurt yourself."

Randall couldn't talk, however, he just started crying. Damien knelt down, and leaning Randall against his chest, pulled him in. The wolf hugged him, and let even more water out, this time from his eyes onto Damien's shirt.

He knew the wolf was sensitive, and that he needed this moment, so he let him cry. After all, it was more reason for him to remember this lesson.

"How old were you the last time you peed yourself, Randall?" Damien asked calmly.

"P-Probably ten, master," he whined.

"Then you really must be embarrassed to feel like a ten-year-old again. If you don't want to ever do this again, what lesson will you always remember, Randall?" he asked gently.

"A-A-Always tell master if -- if I hurt myself," he sniffed, tears clearing up.

"Good. Now tell me: where did you hurt yourself?"

"I -- I cut my foot. Just a little. It didn't bleed much, and it healed up by the time you got home. I... didn't think it was important. I'm sorry, master."

"Thank you for telling me. Now we'll get you cleaned up... and the carpet stain will help you remember this lesson."

The wolf did not seem happy about this. "Y-Yes, master," was all he said.

Damien released him, and looked down at him. Randall was still blushing, and looked really crushed.

"Randall," he asked even more gently, "do you still love me?"

Randall seemed taken aback. "Of course, master. You punish me for my own good."

"That's why I kept you," he replied with a warm smile. A smile that the wolf couldn't help but get a sliver of himself.

"Now let's get you cleaned up."

He helped Randall to his feet, and they went together into the bathroom across the hall.

The End.