It was busier there than I expected. When Kaspar offered to bring me to a monthly fetish party at a local sex dungeon I jumped at the chance. I had guessed it would just be a small group of furs just hanging out in someone’s basement and hosting their own private orgy, but when we parked outside the unassuming banquet hall with a full parking lot I gave my roommate a puzzled look. Who would’ve thought our small city had such an active kink community.

“Trust,” the opossum assured me with a wink. 

He’d gone all out on his outfit for the evening. I’d seen him dress up like that a bunch of times before, but never guessed that this is where he had been going. Kaspar’s white fur had been streaked with a kaleidoscope of colored dye, easily visible beneath the mesh shirt he had on along with the silver barbell nipple piercings he had. He was wearing loose black denim pants with a few too many buckles and chains, and nothing over his footpaws. How anthros without hooves deal with sticky floors, I’ll never understand. His hairless tail lashed behind him predatorily as we climbed out of the car and I caught a glimpse of the stud on his tongue as he licked his lips. He had the scent of impending sex about him as we approached the door. 

He wasn’t really my type, with the whole punk-raver look, and with him not being into hooves and horns, he wasn’t really into me either. That was just as well. We’d been close friends for years and we were both tops anyway, so there was no reason to make things complicated with the awkwardness of attraction coming between us. He twitched his heavily pierced ear as we stood outside the door, a quirk I noticed he had when he was particularly excited about something. The shift in the light reflecting off of his completely black eyes was the only indication that he glanced toward me without turning his head, something I always found a bit disconcerting.

It took me an embarrassingly long time to realize just how eager he was to share this part of his life with me.

I could feel the throbbing beat of electronic synth music through the door. When my friend shoved it open and brought me inside, a muscular lion bouncer in the short entry hall asked to check our IDs, before letting us venture further; not an issue since I was twenty-two and Kas had just turned twenty-three a month before. The music thudded from speakers in every corner. The entryway split into a few directions. Down a short hallway on my left were the restrooms, with a multitude of furs coming and going. In front of me and to my right were empty door frames.

Through one I could see a pop-up bar where a couple dozen anthros lounged about, chatting away. Through the other was a large room, dark except for patches of illumination and the occasional pulse of a strobe light. I could see lots of anthros inside, and could hear cheers, moans, and shouts from within. 

“Whoa,” I said dumbly, stunned, after passing security.

My eyes didn’t immediately adjust to the dim atmosphere, and to keep us from blocking the entrance, Kaspar pulled me by the paw into the bar, obscuring my view of the playroom. 

“Shut your mouth, Nico. You’re gawking.” He was smiling broadly at my reaction. I picked my jaw up off the floor while he bought a couple of beers and offered me one of them. “A bit different than you expected?”

“Very,” I answered honestly, fighting the urge to lean out and look back in on the dungeon floor. I was impatient for a chance to play.

“So, how does this work?” I inquired. “Can I just jump in whenever?” He had told me the idea of place before, but not the mechanics.

“Not quite. Always ask first, unless it is obvious that you’re invited to take part. No taking pictures- if you have your phone out at all in the playroom, security will kick you out the door without a second thought. Respect the safewords: ‘red’ means stop immediately, ‘yellow’ means ease off a bit and don’t go any harder…”

My friend explained the rules in greater detail while I had a couple of drinks to calm my enthusiasm and not embarrass him. It was mostly common sense stuff that I probably could’ve guessed, but it was good to know the hard rules. I had always thought Kas to be spontaneous and goofy, so it felt a bit strange to see him so confident and in his element here. I appreciated that he was guiding me through this, and would have to find a way to thank him properly at some point. 

My best friend learned of my interest in BDSM recently, after catching me pawing off one night in our bedroom. Being broke students, we shared a small apartment. I thought the opossum was gone for the evening and not coming back one night, so I was using the opportunity to load up some of my favorite fetish porn on my computer. It was pretty humiliating for me to have my roommate walk in and catch me leaning back in my chair, naked save for my underwear stretched between my knees, cock hard and dripping between my thighs while I watched a video of a bound bunny getting beaten and railed. Instead of making fun of me like a lot of guys would, though, he flashed a contrite smile, and left the room to give me some privacy.

Over an awkward cup of coffee the following morning, he admitted that he was also into BDSM and I had nothing to be embarrassed about. From then on we were able to chat about this shared interest and talk about what sort of torture we’d like to inflict on subs. I was very into beatings. Paddling, flogging, whipping, maybe just a bit of ballbusting...you name it. If the bottom was tied up and incapable of moving it was even better. Maybe I had a bit of an ego too, since the thought of being watched while I destroyed a sub’s ass was super arousing, even if it was a bit intimidating when I thought about actually doing it. Kas tended to enjoy more experimental play. He liked fire, ice, electricity, sensory deprivation, and no small amount of humiliation.

It was only a couple of weeks later, when I was in a particularly bad mood after bombing an exam and arguing with the professor about it, that Kaspar invited me to the dungeon as a fun way to destress and blow off steam. I had spent countless hours studying for that paper and worked hard on it. It should have been close to a perfect score, and to be rewarded with a failing grade by a teacher who seemed to have it out for me was crushing. Kas assured me that I would have no trouble finding a bottom to let me have my way with them if I was my usual self, and that the experience would be just the thing to relax and get in a good headspace to pass the next test.

Sure enough, while I was having drinks with my roommate and learning the ins and outs of the dungeon atmosphere, there were several furs who met my amber eyes with invitingly lewd stares.

My name’s Nico. I’m an ibex. Not being a particularly large species, I am a bit on the short side at about five-foot-four. Although, If you counted the long, ridged horns that curve off the top of my head you could add almost two feet to that number. I hit the gym pretty regularly so I have a decent physique, even if I’m more of a sprinter than a bodybuilder. I had a small celebration the day I started seeing the definition of my abs through the snowy fluff on my underbelly and have remained athletic since. Everyone always tells me that my eyes are my best quality. I have these intense black face markings, and a piercing stare with my horizontal pupils was usually a good way to start something between me and another anthro. Aside from the white fur from my chin to under my spade tail, my pelt is tawny and I do my best to keep it groomed.

Halfway through my third beer, my roommate announced that it was time to have some fun. He led to the playroom, which was a long, brick-walled, windowless room, maybe twenty by one hundred feet. Evenly spaced along the walls were stations to display kink. There were tables, stocks, posts, diagonal crosses, benches and more. Over half of them had a naked, often-hooded or gagged, anthro chained or strapped to it. Some were being encased in latex, others (mostly scalies) were having hot wax drizzled over their bodies, more still were being flogged. Each in-use station had a small crowd gathered around, watching the show for a while before they meandered to another spectacle or found a willing partner of their own. There were some even more creative displays as well that bordered on performance, but I wanted something simple and fulfilling for my first time there.

It seemed as though the “regulars” at the dungeon each had their own duffel bag with their favorite sex toys and gear stuffed into it, but there was also a rack of communal use equipment that caught my eye. I was itching to try out some of what hung there. A particularly solid oak paddle caught my eye and I felt my jockstrap grow tighter imagining its weight in my hoof as I raised it back to strike a sub.

“You come here all the time?” I asked my friend, still somewhat awestruck. The cloying scent of sex that hung in the air was intoxicating.

“Every month for the past couple of years,” he informed me.

“Why didn’t you invite me sooner?”

“I didn’t know if you’d be interested, and it felt...invasive...to ask,” he replied, the corner of his muzzle twisting into a smirk.

“Do you know any subs who’d want-” I stopped mid-sentence as I suddenly had to force myself to not scoff in disbelief.

“What?” Kaspar asked. “Don’t get weird on me now, bro.”

“Remember that asshole teacher that failed me today?”

“Yeah?”

I tilted my head toward one station.

He followed my gaze to where a naked badger was prone, arms and legs splayed, on a low, padded kneeling bench, with his rump invitingly raised. He was in his mid- to late- thirties and had the heavyset dad bod that I liked, not quite chubby but with just a bit of heft to him. He was blindfolded, and tightly shackled at the wrists and ankles to prevent him from moving. It seemed he could writhe and squirm, but was otherwise helpless. He had the monochrome coat common for his species. I could see the back of his weighty sac hanging between his thick thighs. Next to him was a folding table with a tray on it. On top of the platter was a small selection of convenient things to have nearby in the heat of the moment, such as condoms and lube, but also a few chosen kink implements, like a stainless steel chastity cage along with its lock and keys. There was a sign hanging on the wall behind him that declared: “Free use! Condoms optional!” He must’ve only recently set up, since a vulpine twink was adjusting his cuffs and tugging at his straps.

“No!?” My roommate whispered, stifling a laugh. “Brock is your teacher!?”

“Brock?” 

I knew him as “Dr. Bawson,” my organic chemistry instructor. He regularly made my life difficult a ton of lengthy assignments and was unforgivingly tough when grading. The amount of points I’ve lost on work due to technicalities and unclear expectations was as disheartening as it was absurd, especially after how much time and effort I put into my studies. It sucked that he was so harsh, since he was on the young side for his field and actually pretty hot, in a cute, nerdy sort of way. It was surreal seeing him without his dress-casual attire and square, rimless glasses, let alone naked and helpless in a sex dungeon.

“He’s been coming here even longer than I have,” Kas said. “He’s fun.”

“Fun?” It wasn’t a word I’d ever associate with the professor, but then again, he was the last fur I expected to run into here.

“Yeah. I’ve played with him a few times. He’s a total sub with a great pain tolerance.” My roommate scratched at his ear thoughtfully. “You know what might be a good way of working out that aggression?” He narrowed his eyes conspiratorially.

“Way ahead of you,” I responded slyly. I was striding toward the mustelid before I even finished the sentence. I heard Kaspar scurried along behind to catch up.

With Dr. Bawson...Brock...being blindfolded, I could do whatever I wanted to him and he’d never know it was me. I’d at last have some sort of social leverage over him. I had wanted to really unleash myself on a sub for years, but never really found one that seemed to want more than a playful spanking in the bedroom. I finally had my chance. I knew it wasn’t entirely a healthy outlet for my frustrations, but I justified it to myself by focusing on how much the badger would enjoy himself. I approached just as the fox who was checking how secure his bindings were finished and wandered off, leaving him shackled and at my mercy. Almost immediately, a few anthros started to gather around at a respectful distance to see what I planned on doing. I nearly lost my nerve, since I was unused to being watched, but the idea of actually engaging in exhibitionism was enticing enough to urge me on.

I felt very conspicuous in my jeans and t-shirt, with so many furs around me being in various states of undress or full on fetish gear. I decided to strip off my shirt and toss it on the floor next to the folding table. My low-cut jeans were tight, and the turquoise elastic of my underwear was visible a few inches above the waist of my pants. Below it in the back, just above the denim, my pert tail stuck out, with just enough of fur visible to show where the fur changed from brown to white beneath it (just to tease the other tops who wanted to use my horns as handlebars while pounding me). I unbuckled my belt and undid the fly of my pants to reveal the full, blue pouch of my jock too, but I kept my jeans on for the moment.

I reached out and grabbed the firm globe of the bound badger’s ass. He started, probably just then realizing that the first top of the night was about to abuse him. Heat and a horny musk radiated from him. It almost dampened my enthusiasm somewhat, knowing that he wanted this. Almost. But he was sexy, and I figured I could be intense enough that I’d still feel a cathartic release by the end of the night. I let go and gave his rump a demeaning swat. He started, but remained mostly noiseless. I glanced back down at the table and my eyes lingered on the chastity cage. There were two keys beside it. How many locks had more than that? Surely the brainy professor couldn’t have been dim enough to leave every key to his cage available for any random Dom to snatch up on a whim.

“Hi, Brock,” Kaspar stooped down by the badger’s ear and hissed, his face impish and voice mischievous. “I brought a friend tonight. It’s his first time here, and you know how the newbies can sometimes go a little overboard.”

Bawson tensed at his warning but otherwise didn’t respond.

I met Kas’ gaze and flicked my eyes toward the cock cage and keys. Thankfully, he caught on right away that I didn’t want to speak. The last thing I needed was for the badger slave to recognize my voice and call out a safeword. The opossum snatched up the chastity device and dropped low beside my teacher. It was a series of interlocking steel bars that wove together to form a tube-like cage around the wearer’s sheath, stifling any erection while keeping the submissive’s genitals visible . He attached the apparatus to Brock’s junk with expert speed and precision. It was held in place by a metal ring that wrapped tightly behind his sac. The whole thing locked together with a small brass padlock on the front. Once it was clicked into place, Kaspar spun the keys on his claw and tossed them to me. I hastily shoved them into my pocket, which forced my unbuttoned jeans a bit lower on my hips.

I ran my hooved-finger through the fur on Dr. Bawson’s back, starting just above the tuft of his tail and disturbing his coat all of the way up to the scruff on the back of his neck. He shivered in anticipation. My cock throbbed, and even in the dim light of the dungeon I could see the growing damp patch on the pouch of my severely tented jock.

I trotted a short distance to the rack of impact tools and picked up that wicked-looking paddle that had caught my eye earlier. I swished it through the air a couple of times, feeling its weight. It felt so natural to hold, like it was a natural extension of my arm. I sensed the power and momentum behind it in just my few practice swings and instantly understood the pain it could inflict with it. By the time I was done that night, I didn’t want my instructor to be able to sit for a week. Finally I’d get to feel what it was like to act like the Doms in those porn videos I spent so many hours pleasuring myself to.

I sauntered back to my friend and my teacher. I made sure that I stepped a bit heavier than I needed to, to let the clop of my hooves echo menacingly above the music as I approached. I struck the paddle against my palm a couple of times and gave it a few more passes through the air above Brock’s exposed hindquarters. He anxiously stiffened with each pass when the breeze whistled by, missing him by mere inches. I tried to take my time starting, wanting to savor my payback, but I was like a cub on my birthday. The scene, the crowd, the kink...it was euphoric. I rolled my shoulder in a theatrical stretch for the anthos watching, then reeled back for my first full swing.

I went in hard on my first strike, but I didn’t quite use all of my strength because I wanted something to build toward. I’ll remember the instant the paddle first collided with Brock’s ass- when fantasy became reality for me- for a good, long time. It gave a satisfying whap! as it connected. The badger’s muscles seized and he sucked in air through his teeth. I savored the way the reverberation felt as they went up my arm, and loved the way his body quaked in the aftermath of my assault. I reeled back and repeated the strike, eliciting a grunt. To the mustelid’s credit, he didn’t yelp out in pain just yet. I planned to change that.

I thought back to the immeasurable amount of hours I had spent watching porn and tried to emulate what I had seen. I started doing a rapid series of smaller spanks, quickly tapping again and again from a close distance, increasing his blood flow and making him more sensitive for the punishment to come. Before long, I began seeding in a few harder smacks at erratic intervals.

My sub fidgeted. His haunches twitched. A gossamer strand of pre lazily dripped from his cage tip, creating a short, glistening trail to a tiny puddle on the surface beneath him. He was enjoying himself, for now. I craved this. I could smell my own overpowering scent of arousal. I was harder than I had ever been before. My seven-and-a-half-inches of rigid maleness had fully entreated from its sheath pressed almost painfully against my underwear. I did my best to ignore my aching member for the time being.

I started increasing the strength of my strikes, doing my best to aim a bit differently with each blow and spread the pain out across the whole of my professor's buttocks. I would focus on leaving bruises later, but I was just getting started. Dr. Bawson started wincing and moaning as I hit harder and harder and harder. After a couple of minutes, I was surprised to notice that I had worked up a sweat, further suffusing the air with my horny scent. It mingled intoxicatingly with the black and white fur’s own odor. I smirked, realizing that this was a workout that I’d gladly trade a gym trip for anyday.

My jeans had started riding lower as I set my legs and twisted my torso to get the most out of my strikes. My initial shyness had evaporated by that point so I paused while Kaspar nipped playfully at Brock’s ears with his sharp teeth to shimmy out of my pants. There were a few cheers from the growing crowd behind me as I ended up standing in only my jockstrap. I twitched my upturned tail, teasing the other Doms with a view of my tone ass and pucker. I adjusted my bulge with my free hoof, which ended up letting my cock sproing up against my pelvis, its tapered scarlet tip poking out above the elastic. I was leaking a river. 

Without giving the hefty badger a warning that I was going to resume, I suddenly lashed out again and hit him hard. He snarled in the immediate painful aftermath of the blow, then shivered as the burn of the strike bloomed across his rump. Over the following several minutes I grew progressively more intense. When he eventually gave a shout from the pain I felt the sudden wet gush of my pre jetting up my belly fur. From there he started whimpering more and crying out more often. He clearly loved every second, despite the tears streaming below his blindfold. 

I stopped to silently threaten him by lightly tapping the tip of the paddle beneath his heavy orbs. He shivered, tense. Even the few light bounces I gave against his sac likely hurt a little bit. It was quite a bit of weight to have hitting your nuts. His gut tightened with each touch.

My roommate took the cue.

“If you make a noise, he hits your balls instead,” the Kaspar promised cruelly. 

He was such a good friend.

I began paddling him faster than I had ever done before, with even more powerful swings. I could tell that Dr. Bawson was carefully breathing in and out in a steady rhythm to endure the pain, but his breath was hitching and his body shook with the effort. In the end he cracked, and groaned after a particularly savage attack. If it wasn’t for being held in place by his bindings, he likely would have failed to hold himself upright.

“Naughty, naughty,” the opossum taunted. “You were warned.”

I was still working out some frustration and wanted him to suffer a bit, so I held true to the pledge and smacked the paddle against the back of his scrotum. He yelped in pain and I knew his testicles would be sore in the morning, if not for the next day or two.

Without even giving him a chance to recover, I returned to working his ass, occasionally seeding in lighter strikes against his balls when he hissed, or moaned, howled, or snarled. When my arm was, at last, sore for the effort of abusing him, I set the wooden paddle aside and took a moment to breathe. My chest was heaving from exertion and exhilaration.

Kaspar had apparently grown bored of just watching and being my voice. He quickly stripped naked. It was the first time I had seen my friend fully undressed in years, and I had to admit he had a nice body. He also had a larger penis than I expected. Seven inches of pink flesh stuck out from his plump sheath and wavered in front of him. He smacked his rod against Brock’s face and smeared pre across his cheek before poking his tip at the badger’s muzzle. Then, as the mustelid opened his mouth to take the member, Kas turned around and bent forward. He hoisted his tail and shoving his crevice against our sub’s maw.

“Open up, Brock,” he ordered, his voice more domineering than I had ever heard it. “I want to feel that tongue deep in my hole.”

Bawson did as ordered, and I watched as the older fur rimmed my roommate. He lapped eagerly at my friend’s entrance, dragging his tongue up his crack over and over before finally starting to wriggle it up into his tailhole. Kaspar closed his eyes and let his head roll back as he uttered a purr of satisfaction.
I stripped off my jockstrap, which was damp with pre, sweat, and musk, and kicked it away maybe a bit more enthusiastically than I should have. It was going to be a pain in the ass to find when I was done. The sense of authority and dominance I got from beating the badger had made me incredibly horny. I stepped forward and gripped Brock’s hips, lining up my shaft with his cleft. I let my crimson length slide between the firm globes of his ass as ground my pelvis against him so he could feel my thickness. I was going to fuck my teacher in a room full of strangers. And I was going to be rough. 

I pumped some lube from the nearby bottle and slathered it on my cock. Then I angled my tip at his presented ring, ignoring the offered condoms. I wanted to see my cum seep from his hole when I was finished and for him to feel me drip out of him later. Normally I’d loosen a bottom up a bit with some foreplay, but tonight was about my enjoyment, not the badger’s. Besides, I wanted him as tight as possible, and if I could make it hurt him a bit, that was all the better. It sounded like he did this often enough that I wouldn’t cause too much harm. My shaft throbbed, aching to be buried in my instructor. It twitched so much that I almost had trouble aiming at his heat. When my cock was slick enough, I drove in fast, nearly hilting all of my meat into him in one strong thrust. His back arched as I entered him, and he gasped in shock before moaning loudly. Kas didn’t appreciate the pause in the action and was quick to tangle his claws in the fur on the back of Bawson’s head and force his muzzle back between his cheeks.

“Keep goin’, big guy,” he admonished.

I smacked the mustelid’s ass as I stayed deep inside of him and shuddered with pleasure as his ring squeezed my hardness. I looked down at my professor and wished I was allowed to take pictures of him beneath me like that. I could only imagine the look on his face if I showed him. Steadily, I drew back and thrust in again, letting his warmth envelope my rod. I picked up steam, and before long was pistoning in and out of him as he grunted and whined and rimmed my best friend, who was murring with pleasure himself.

As I continued to buck my hips, Kaspar eventually stepped away and turned around. His cock was quivering and dribbling a ton of watery pre. He tapped his cock on his snout expectantly. The opossum slipped his penis between the badger’s lips and grabbed the sides of his Brock’s head. He started face-fucking Dr. Bawson with almost as much enthusiasm as I was taking him from behind. The rush of pleasure and power was too much for me to hang onto. Everything about that night had been perfect: Being able to abuse my pretentious instructor, seeing him eat out my roommate’s ass, using the paddle, fucking in public with a collection of anthros watching it happen...I knew I couldn’t keep from cumming for long.

My roommate grinned lewdly as he heard Brock gag around his cock, then leered to me with a knowing nod. He picked up the pace as well and before long we were spit-roasting the badger in perfect unison. My jabs became erratic and fell out of sync after only a couple of minutes, and my hooves dug into the dark fur on my sub’s hips as I thrust in until my own sac struck his still sore testicles and I unloaded into him. My cock jumped as I shot a flood of caprine cum in his ass. My whole body trembled and shortly after I started pumping my nut into the badger, my friend popped as well. 

He pulled out just before he climaxed and stroked himself only three times to completion. Several ropes of glistening seed shot from his tip and splattered over Brock's face. The pearls of opossum gunk gleamed against the ebony fur of his face markings. My friend apparently came buckets, because he shot blast after blast, not only painting Brock’s face but splashing across his tongue as well to the point where the mustelid could swallow it fast enough and it dripped down his chin.

I stayed hilted in Bawson until I started to soften and my length slipped from his hole, trailing with it a rivulet of my cum. I panted and huffed. I felt amazing. I rode out my post-orgasmic high in a haze until I slowly became aware of my surroundings and started getting self-conscious again. After we had climaxed, much of the audience thinned, except for those wanting the next turn with the heavy-set professor’s mouth or backside. I milked the last of my load from my penis and wiped it dry on Brock’s thigh fur before scrounging for my discarded clothes.

I didn’t engage in any more scenes that night, but I had no shortage of offers from subs wanting to be play partners for the next time and promised them all that I definitely intended to be back. Before I left the dungeon, I made sure that I still had Dr. Bawson’s cock cage keys in my pocket. I couldn’t wait for class the next day. I was pretty sure I could get a passing grade now.