Patreon Exclusive: August 2025 II

Forfeited Soles for a Prince

By KinkSaber

“And? What of the Hero, Kovic Askalla?” The dignified white tiger asked anxiously. He paced in circles inside his office, where he was joined by General Yalisse of the Ezralian army. “How long has it been? How has he not been found?”

“Your highness – nothing, still. We have retrieved Gaia’s holy sword, but Kovic Askalla remains to be seen. We have soldiers combing the rural areas now with a search and rescue mission for missing personnel, but so far not even a piece of scrap cloth has been found of the hero.”

Kleave Zel Ezra was the crown prince of the kingdom of Ezra, the very same country who financially and politically supported the Knight of Light, Kovic Askalla, when he was found in one of the many war orphanages of the Holy Gaian Church.

“Until we find him, the official story stays that he is recuperating in hidden isolation.” The tiger affirmed. “Make it in no uncertain terms that it is classified information. Anyone found to compromise this will be beheaded along with their entire clan. Is my order clear, General Yalisse?”

“Crystal.” The older, wiser black panther nodded in agreement. “Harsh, but the people need to believe in the Hero. I will personally oversee the rest of the operation, your highness.”

“That appears to be a lot of work to deceive your own people, crowned prince.”

A voice echoed in the room, which put the tiger and panther on alert. The hair stood up on the back of their neck. They felt a sudden chill in the room, and smelled the darkness that sublimated from the air itself.

From the floor, shadows gathered until they formed a swirling gate. From the gate stepped two figures – one of a demonic bat, and the other of a lion on a leash; the ends of the chain held in the bat’s arm.

“You..! Demon Prince Vegas Sonna Lyra!” The black panther intended to draw the sword on his waist, but before he could blink, his head was separated from his shoulders as blood gushed forth like a fountain. The heart beat for several more seconds before the body crumbled on top of the head that had hit the ground moments prior.

“Oh dear! I hope that wasn’t important.” The bat smirked as he wiped his blood-stained hand with a conjured handkerchief, which was promptly discarded to the ground.

The tiger’s hand trembled. He was only a touch older than the Hero, and didn’t have that much experience under his belt either. Needless to say, the pampered prince had never seen so much as the shadow of a corpse on the battlefield. It took everything he had to merely stay calm. His voice had been stolen from him.

The only thing that seemed to allow him to keep his nerve was the fact that Kovic Askalla stood behind the bat, although not by much. The collared lion with a chain that led from his neck to the bat’s hand made it clear that the demonic bat had already defeated the hero, the one small ray of hope from the kingdom of Ezra to end the war.

“Now then.” The bat continued, as he stared Kleave in the eye. “I suppose you’re deathly curious as to what your hero, the Knight of Light, is doing here.”

Kleave nodded cautiously.

“Tell him what you are.” The bat yanked on the chain playfully. The lion stumbled forward by a single step.

“I am Master Vegas’ foot pet.” Kovic said dryly. His cheeks blushed. He was still not used to being humiliated in front of others. It was one thing if it was just the bat, but a whole different story when another was involved. 

The tiger was dumbfounded.

“..Come again?” Kleave said with a shaky voice.

“Unlikely. Not until he earns the privilege." The bat chuckled.

It was Kleave’s turn to blush when he realized what the bat meant; the hint being that the lion’s exposed but caged shaft suddenly twitched. That was also when he took a good hard look at the hero – who wore nothing but a chained collar, the cage on his groin, and what appeared to be leather bands around his ankles and wrist, each one bound by a strap and buckle. Two large metallic rings were bolted into the bands on either side, which the tiger correctly assumed that they were for bondage purposes. To bind the lion against something – and from the contextual clues so far, most likely a bed. The demon bat’s bed.

—

“..Why are you here? Why.. am I not dead?” The tiger looked at the headless panther that he spoke with only a minute prior. Dead. Gone. The general’s blood stained the palace floors.

“Your death serves no purpose, crowned prince.” The bat said matter-of-factly. “Why, I surmise that your death will only encourage another entourage of sweaty, burly fools to invade my lands – to which our armies will kill the majority of each other, and then I shall be tasked with the chore to wipe the survivors out, as I did on the hero’s expedition.“

“Get to the point. What do you want, demon?” The tiger gritted his teeth. He stood on thin ice, between life and death. Though his standing wasn’t excellent, a death in the royal family would, as the demon said, spur on another generation of war, famine, and unbridled chaos.

“I came to negotiate for a truce. Thanks to my little pet here I believe I’ve found a fair deal; one where we can each get what we want.”

“You really believe I’d make a deal with demons?” The tiger accused crudely. “You, who betrayed the Goddess and turned to darkness?”

“That whore again? You people really do love that book of inane ramblings written with her rotten menstrual blood, don’t you?” The bat sighed.

“How dare you?!” The tiger felt the rush of blood to his head.

“If you truly had the favor of that holy harlot, crowned prince – do you think that a heretical demon such as myself could create a portal from the demon world directly into your palace? To take the head off of your most trusted aid in the blink of an eye? To fearlessly stand before you, who are quaking in your boots? Quod erat demonstrandum, crowned prince – your fraudulent Goddess, the woman you give false worship to, she is no divinity.”

The tiger drew his own sword and pointed it towards the demonic bat, who patronizingly laughed as if a child had shown him something very amusing.

“The hero and his so-called holy sword couldn’t trim the split ends of my hair. You believe you’d fare better with decorative scrap steel? Put that toy away before you hurt yourself.”

The tremor in the prince’s hand was much more prominent when it was extended to the sword, and the tip of his blade swayed like the crosshair of a poorly made crossbow. The tiger gritted his teeth and adhered to the demonic bat’s advice. 

“What do you want, demon?” The tiger finally mustered up the courage to ask. 

“My offer is simple. Give yourself unto me, and I shall spare your little fenced garden.” The bat demanded. “For I am Vegas Sonna Lyra, the Second Prince under the Emperor of Demonkin, and the most prized among his war generals; and I seek to have you, crowned prince Kleave Zel Ezra, as my trophy of conquest.”

“Ridiculous!” The white tiger objected.

“For all your wasted upbringing, you seem as unwise as the hero, crowned prince.” The bat chuckled. “Even you must understand that you stand no chance against me. I am more than adequate to bring your entire garden plot to ruin. If you refuse, we shall continue the conflict and I will rise as the victor, after I butcher your entire legion of knights and the upper echelon of your nobility. Then, I shall claim your war-torn body before all your weak, inconsequential subjects.”

“Grr..!” The white tiger growled at the perceived threat.

“Do not mistake it for anything but a plainly stated truth, crowned prince.” The bat continued. “You will be my trophy regardless. The choice I offer is thus: come to me willingly and blood shall not be on your hands or mine, or refuse, and fulfill my prophecy.”

“And what befalls me as your trophy?” The white tiger asked, although he already knew the answer, if he judged it from the state of the hero he saw. His eyes darted towards the lion once again. There was no fear in Kovic’s eyes. There was something. Admiration? Respect? There was something in his head, but it was not fear; nor did the lion appear to be harmed for the time that he was missing.

“Your assumption is correct.” The bat answered as he understood the tiger’s facial expression. “You will not be mistreated. Surrender yourself and you shall save this little garden. Ah, if only every king was offered the same choice. How easy would that be, crowned prince?”

The bat’s words were laden with the scent of honey and sweet milk. It was a trap, and Kleave knew that. He also knew that he had no real choice in the matter. 

“A soul contract.” The tiger demanded. “One that will smite your soul should you break it. I will not accept anything less for my people.”

“Oh, most excellent. I’m glad to see you are reasonable.” The demonic bat grinned widely and extended his hand towards the tiger for a handshake. In a flash, he was surrounded by a bright magical circle array – the soul contract that Kleave demanded. “My name is Vegas Sonna Lyra, and I swear upon my soul to uphold this contract. You shall obey my commands for all of your days, and in return not a single demon under my command shall darken the doorsteps of this Ezra kingdom for as long as you shall live.”

The tiger stepped into the light, hesitant. He glared at the demon’s extended arm and looked towards the hero. Still, not the look or scent of fear from the muscular lion. He inhaled deeply, until his lungs were full of the night air. He reached out and took the demon’s hand. He knew he would regret it soon, but he had no real choice in the matter. It was his life or the life of all of his citizens and subjects. He could not choose himself.

The demonic bat’s grin only seemed to grow wider and more maleficent. The light of magic soon died out. Vegas looked more than pleased with himself, which worried Kleave.

“Now, crowned prince – my pet. I shall give you the grace to bid your family goodbye. In an hour’s time, you shall find yourself in my castle. There is no need to pack – you shall bring nothing with you save for your undying loyalty to me. Oh, and while you’re at it – give the king my regards. I’m certain this will be a very happy, very peaceful time for both of our territories.”

True to his words, the bat forcefully summoned the white tiger after sixty minutes had passed, to the second. When the white tiger arrived, he found himself naked as can be, and his cheeks flushed with humiliation as the clothes he had worn turned to ash that would not cling to his fur.

“And what am I to do now?” The tiger asked with gritted teeth. He swallowed the humiliation that was imposed on him and clung onto what little dignity he had left.

“Your new duties are simple. Simple enough that even a goblin can understand.” The bat sat on his massive armchair, cross legged. Vegas was as naked as he. In an ironic twist, Kovic was more dressed than the two by virtue of his collar, cage, and wrist and ankle bindings. “You are to obey, as is our soul contract.”

The tiger’s eye twitched at the non-answer. He couldn’t help but cover his groin with his hands from the sheer embarrassment he felt.

“For starters, then. Never cover yourself up before me.” The bat ordered. The tiger sighed and moved his hands away. The pseudo privacy he had only lasted for three seconds. “Now. Come sit on the floor by me, and lift your soles into my laps.”

“You’re joking.” The tiger was bewildered. 

“Show him how it’s done, my knight.” The bat cooed gently, as if he spoke to a lover. 

Without hesitation, the lion planted his ass before the chair, wiggled himself real close, then lifted his feet and presented his soles to his Prince and Master.

“Kovic Askalla!” The white tiger snapped. “What are you doing?!”

“..Master Vegas wanted my soles.” The lion said, as if the tiger was the oddball in the room. “And so I presented them. These lion feet belong to Master Vegas, and no other.”

“Tell him, my pet.” The bat took each of the lion’s feet in his hands and pressed his thumb into the arches. Vegas shifted his weight and placed one foot over the lion’s caged cock. “The details of your servitude. Tell him what is expected of you.”

“Of course, my Prince.” The lion smiled like an idiot in love. “I am Master Vegas’ loyal foot slave. These feet are attached to me, but the one who owns them is Master Vegas. As Master’s foot slave, it is my duty and priority to take proper care of them so they remain clean, soft, tender, succulent, and..” The lion winced as the bat’s claw was dragged over his arches. “..Sensitive.”

“What the hell are you talking about?!” The white tiger cried.

“These lion soles are Master Vegas’ ticklish foot toy.” The lion continued shamelessly. It was clear to the tiger that Kovic’s mind had been warped and twisted by the bat, perhaps irreversibly. The tiger stood and listened in horror as the lion continued. “Three times a day they are lotioned. Three times a day they are oiled and massaged. Three times a day they are tongue-bathed and spit shined. I protect them in moisture retaining socks and boots when Master Vegas is away, and I reveal them for Master Vegas’ viewing pleasure upon his return. I see to it that they are maintained properly so they are ready to serve Master Vegas at a moment’s notice.”

“Kovic Askalla! Where is your pride?!” The tiger asked again. Anxiety set in his heart. If the demonic bat could do this to the hero who was blessed and protected by the goddess, he, a mere mortal, stood no chance. “Where is your dignity?!”

“These ticklish lion soles are my pride, Kleave Zel Ezra.” Kovic answered with a smile, with a tone of voice that showcased his confidence in his handiwork. “You think these perfectly pedicured claws file themselves? You think you can spread your toes without practice? I have dedicated my life to Master Vegas, as I have dedicated my life to making these lion soles his favorite pair in all the realms.”

“Oh, but that’s not all you do for me, is it, my lovely pet?” The bat lifted one of the lion’s feet to his face and sniffed between the toes. “Mmm! Exquisite. Tell him how loyal you are, my pet. Tell him how you prepare these toes for me. Tell him your daily routine!”

“Of course, Master.” The lion’s spine shivered when he felt the bat’s nose between his toes. “Master loves the smell of my sweaty toes. So every day I go out for a quick jog.”

The color drained from the tiger’s face. The whites of his fur seemed even more pale than usual.

“I let them marinate until they’re just right.” Kovic moaned. “Keep them warm for Master. Make sure they’re not too musky, not dirty. Master Vegas loves sweaty lion toes, and so I spend hours everyday to keep them just the way he likes them. If they’re too sweaty or not sweaty enough -- I punish them on behalf of Master Vegas.”

“I.. I don’t want to know.” Kleave couldn’t believe his ears. Kovic was the hero that everybody looked up to. That he looked up to.

“If they’re too sweaty, I give them a good whipping on the tender arches.” The lion ignored the tiger’s comment. “A minimum of twenty strokes. Sometimes Master Vegas will even grace them with an appearance during the punishment. They’re so naughty. Sometimes I suspect these lion soles enjoy the whipping. That’s why they sweat profusely for Master.”

“And the other punishment. Tell him.” The bat licked his lips, then buried his face in the lion’s meaty, but soft-as-silk soles.

“If they refuse to sweat for Master Vegas, they are put into the stocks and tickled until they cooperate.” The lion smiled, as if he recalled fond memories. 

The tiger felt his blood run cold.

“I tie the toes back so they have nowhere to escape.” Kovic continued, and he described them with a detachment, as if those feet were not his own. “Brushes. Feathers. Flossed between the toes. If they don’t behave and sweat for Master Vegas, then they shall suffer through the wringer.”

“You can’t tickle yourself!” The tiger exclaimed.

“Correct. That is why Master Vegas has the pleasure of educating these lion soles himself!”

“You have ruined him, Vegas Sonna Lyra!” The tiger cried out in anger and confusion. “You have ruined his mind!”

“No, Kleave Zel Ezra – I have ruined his soles. To be precise, he has ruined his own soles.” The bat gave those feet a quick tickle with the tip of his fingers. The lion giggled. “Isn’t that right, my pet? You ruined these lion soles for me, haven’t you?”

“Yes, Master Vegas.” The lion cooed happily. “It was my pleasure to ruin these lion soles. It was my pleasure to destroy the hero’s soles. They were conceited, cocky, and defiant. I taught them to be obedient, to be submissive, and to be humble. They belong wholly to you now and forever, Master Vegas.”

Kleave heard what was said, but it took monumental effort to digest it. Part of him knew in his mind that he would be the next target of the bat’s perverse corruption, and as he had already completed the soul contract he had little choice but to fulfil his end of the bargain. He wished that the bat demanded his life instead, so that it would be all over in the flash of a blade – never had he imagined that the bat would demand to keep him alive to humiliate him, to ruin him like this.

The tiger gripped his fist until his knuckles paled. Kleave could not yet let go of his ego, his identity, unlike the hero who had abandoned everything – even the goddess who blessed him.

As a last resort, he gambled his life on his one final move. The tiger raised his hand, concentrated, and recited the only thing he knew to work against charm magic. “DISPEL!” A gush of wind breezed past the lion and the bat, who both stayed unmoving where they were; the bat chuckled condescendingly on his throne and the lion obediently under the bat’s feet.

“Now do you understand? He is here of his own free will.” The bat announced with grandiose. “He is my pet because he wishes to be – unlike you, who is bound by the soul contract you insisted upon. You’ve doomed yourself, crown prince, for the rest of your days. Now, get on your hands and knees and crawl towards me like a good pet should. I command you.”

Kleave felt a tug through his chest. It was the contract at work. All of the bat’s commands must be obeyed, or he would die on the spot; and the fate of his kingdom would be set in stone. Begrudgingly the tiger did as he was told and fell to his knees, his palm against the cool marble floor, and he crawled – like an animal – towards the high and mighty bat.

“And now, kiss.” The bat lifted his foot from the lion’s groin, crossed it at the knee, and flexed his toes at the tiger. Vegas didn’t put it in the tiger’s face. He merely motioned his toes at the white tiger as a signal, and implied that the crowned prince should crawl close for the deed.

It wasn’t an order, so the tiger didn’t feel the supernatural compulsion to obey; but he also knew it was a test. The bat wanted to test the tiger’s limits, take his supposed ‘new toy’ out for a spin. Whatever his choice was, neither spelled out a good ending for him. Broodingly, he decided to obey for the moment. He crawled towards the sole that faced him at an angle, lowered himself closer to the floor, turned his head upwards, and then kissed the bat’s foot right on the ball of his feet.

“Hmph. I had expected for you to kiss the top.” The bat said mockingly. “Who’d have guessed that the crowned prince of the Ezra kingdom was also fascinated with the soles of feet?”

“Grr..!” The tiger growled. Once again humiliated by the bat’s simple verbiage, it was getting harder and harder for Kleave to contain his bubbling emotions. 

“Fiesty. Oh, how indulgent it will be to break your ego and your spirit.” The bat breathed in deeply, as if the white tiger’s shame was a scent and he took in a whiff of it. “Take my pet’s foot in both your hands. Hold it as the very precious thing that it is. Pay your respect to it – by giving it a good, long, hearty lick from the tip of those toes to the edge of his tender heels.”

The tiger felt as though he choked on something. His sanity, perhaps. He froze where he kneeled. Then, came the bat’s voice once more.

“I command it.”

As soon as those words entered his head, the tiger couldn’t help but do exactly as the bat said – to the letter. His hands cradled the upside down lion’s foot, his fingers lifted the lion’s toes, and then his mouth opened and his tongue escaped from it to lap against Kovic’s sole.

The lion wasn’t joking. The moment Kleave’s tongue met with the lion’s supple sole skin was the moment that the tiger realized just how soft those feet had become. The tiger’s finger trailed down to the lion’s leg and felt that, too. The firm, muscular form was still there, but the lion’s skin and fur were smooth, elastic, and very well taken care of. 

Kleave gulped. His tongue continued the journey towards the lion’s heel. That sole was softer and more tender than anything he had ever felt in his life; and that included the highly regarded escorts that he had called to the palace for tension relief. As Kovic said – these weren’t the roughen soles of a hero, but a pair of pampered toys meant to be of service to their Master, the demonic bat.

Then there was the taste that smashed into Kleave’s brains that followed within seconds.

The masculine scent of the lion filled the tiger’s head and the saltiness of those prepared soles spread in his mouth as he took that first drag of his tongue up the submissive sole laid out before him. Of course, Kleave had tasted of the pleasures of the flesh many times before, and yet none had ever offered such a mellow, longing sensation that flowed from his mouth into his brain. It was a strange, but familiar sensation; like the flavor of a beloved meal and something new, exotic, and exciting all at the same time. The tiger didn’t know what to make of it. In his head he knew he was playing into the demonic bat’s hands, but his body craved more; craved another taste of the hero’s soles.

So he withdrew his tongue, smacked his lips twice to really understand the flavor in his mouth, and then without the bat’s command, he took the lion’s other sole to his face and lapped it once more. This time, though, he lingered his tongue at the toes and licked between them for a burst of saltiness; and then as he licked he stole a deep, longing whiff of the lion’s musky sole into his nostrils where he allowed the scent to linger in his nasal passage before he swallowed the taste of it into himself.

His cock twitched, as if it was the first time he had ever been aroused. The tiger blushed at his body’s rebellion, and how immature he was to become erect, even if only a little, by the bat’s perverse, twisted game. It wasn’t like he’s had a crush on the hero for years or anything.

It wasn’t like he had dreamed of tasting the hero’s flesh in his mouth, to press his body against the lion’s.

Kleave opened his mouth and slipped Kovic’s big toe into it, where he suckled on it with content, his tongue lapping against the claw that had been filed until the sharpness that once offered a medium of protection was now a smooth nub to be teased.

When he snapped to, he realized what he had done, and the smirk on the bat’s face earned only his ire.

“Did you like that?” Vegas asked. The bat’s toes scrunched together, which momentarily distracted the tiger.

“It’s the vile magic of this place.” The white tiger said firmly. He jerked his head back in recoil, as if he needed a physical trigger to pull himself away from the bat’s enticing toes. “It’s your dark magic. Your dark influence! It warps the minds of whoever enters this place!”

“My, my, my. All you so-called citizens of light are so quick to jump to accusations.” The bat chuckled. “No such magic exists. You understand, right? All of whatever you feel is part of you, had been born with you, and suppressed until this very moment. Once my pet understood that, he was much happier. Aren’t you?”

“Yes, Master. It is as you say.” The lion cooed. As soon as the tiger’s hands were lifted from his feet, Kovic returned his soles to their rightful place by the bat’s laps, where they longed to stay.

“I find that hard to believe!” The tiger’s cheeks still burned with embarrassment in his one moment of weakness. His tongue flickered in his mouth, though, as it had a mind of its own. It craved more of it. More of the submission. More of the taste of the lion and more of the taste of toes.

The tiger’s mouth watered. He gulped it down, and in that instance he tasted the lion’s toes in his mouth again. His cock reacted accordingly and twitched, becoming harder this time. The naked tiger could not lie – his body was honest to a fault. 

“While you’re on the ground, don’t you want to give my toes a taste, too?” The bat teased. Vegas spread his toes in the tiger’s face, but kept just enough distance, again, to bait him closer. He wanted the tiger to do this on his own accord. He flexed those digits and fanned them open. He arched his foot. “You do, don’t you?”

“I do.. Not!” The tiger replied. He puffed a lungful of air out, and then when he inhaled, Kleave subconsciously sought the scent of the bat’s feet. It was so close to him. Even a north breath of air would be enough to steal a whiff – and he did. An abundance of it.

Unlike the lion’s masculine’s salty foot scent, the bat’s feet smelled sweetly, had a little spice to them, and were clean to a fault. His feet were even more pampered than the lion’s, it’d seem. It was something he did not notice when he kissed them earlier; but now that he’s had time to stew it over he had to admit – even if not verbally, and not to the bat – that Vegas’ feet were pretty damn nice.

To look at, for one, and perhaps to lick, too.

The tiger caught his thought and shoved the very idea of it back down. All the way back down into the depths of his soul. He could not let the bat know; not even an inkling of it must show. It was an advantage that the bat should not be afforded. 

“I command you to, then, if you’re so unwilling.” The bat said dryly.

The tiger sighed and let slip his tongue once more. The bat’s toes were clean against his taste buds, and felt silky in a way that Kovic’s soles did not. Unlike the roughened hero who spent his time in training or battle, the prince’s skin felt unworn; the luxury of the demonlands had instead stained the bat’s soles with perfumed oil that were far more valuable than the trinkets and lotions that his own royal family could procure.

The lick evolved to a kiss, and the kiss evolved to worship. The tiger took the chance to lap his tongue across every surface of the bat’s toes with the excuse that he was ordered to. It freed him from taking the responsibility of satisfying his own curiosity and desires.

“Eager, aren’t you?” The bat said condescendingly. “However, the time for your fun is over. Now, as I’ve said before – present your feet in my laps. I can order you to, but we both know it will be much more thrilling – and easier for you to swallow – if you do it of your own volition.”

The tiger gave pause. Kleave’s tongue gave the bat’s toes one last lick before it retreated, and he looked up.

“..What will you do to me, then?” He asked, even though he already knew the answer. It was a habit that he would soon be trained out of. When he was the crowned prince, he spoke whenever he wished and he spoke his mind openly. Now that he has given himself to the demonic bat, that attitude will only cost him dearly. That thought, however, did not enter his mind until the words exited from his mouth, and he instantly regretted not holding his tongue.

“I will drive you insane with tickles.” The bat said with sadism in his voice. “Here you are, crowned prince, powerless as prey under my demonic fingers. I want to see you squirm. I want to hear you scream. I want to fill you to the brim with helplessness and ticklish delights. What better way to do that than to have those vulnerable soles in my hands?”

The tiger shivered. The terrible feeling of doom returned to his chest. The anxiety only grew when he saw the content smile on the lion’s face. He bowed at the bat’s kissed feet. He already felt humiliated enough – but that was nowhere near what the bat saw as the tiger’s limit.

Kleave resigned. He fisted his hands and copied the lion’s pose – on his back, with his feet in the air.

“Present them properly.” The bat said. Again, no order. It would have been easy if he was ordered to. He would have had an excuse – as if it was not his own volunteering that put him there. He lifted those legs and gently offered them towards the bat. His toes scrunched and flexed. He arched his foot, then he rested them on the bat’s thighs.

As soon as his feet were on the bat’s naked laps, Vegas took one by the ankle and pulled until the tiger’s ass pressed against the leg of the chair that the bat sat on. Kleave gasped and instinctively yanked his foot backwards, only to find that the bat’s grip was stronger than anything and anyone he had ever known; as if his leg was trapped in stocks built of metal and stones. He understood the bat was skilled in magic, but it was only in that moment that he realized how powerful Vegas was, and how he might as well have been a meat sack before the bat. 

“Oh dear. You’re a little rough, aren’t you?” The bat spoke as if he was talking to a very young child. It disturbed the tiger greatly when he realized Vegas was talking to his feet and not him. There was also a glint of malefic intent in the bat’s eyes. “But fear not, we shall fix that soon enough. Now, let’s see how you fare, my new pet.”

The tiger knew his feet were sensitive, too, but as a prince he had never been tickled. Not by the servants, or his peers of the same age, or by anyone else. Even with layers of callous on his big, meaty, beefy feet, the moment that the bat dragged his claws across the arches was instantly met by a helpless yelp from the tiger’s mouth.

They looked at each other, and the tiger quickly covered his mouth with his hands. The bat could easily order him to not do that, but Vegas simply smirked and continued with another drag.

It was only his fingers, but that was more than enough to send the tiger into a wiggly frenzy. As he tried his best to muffle himself, the tiger let out one squeal after another. His face twisted into all sorts of hilarious expressions. What’s more was the way his toes wiggled and fanned with every stroke of the bat’s fingers. As much as Kleave tried to retain his dignity, it soon proved impossible when the scritch-scratches intensified. The bat stroked faster, dug his nails deeper into the thick slab of ticklish meat that tried again and again to pull away, only to fail each and every time. 

“Wahah!! Wahah hah hah hahh! No! Noo! Noo hoh hoh hoh hoh! Please! I can’t take it! I can’t take it anymore! Stop! Stop! Staahhah haw haw haw hawwp!”

The bat knew he had broken through the first layer of the tiger’s defenses when Kleave began to beg. He merely pointed at the tiger and nodded his head to signal the lion, and Kovic knew exactly what he was to do. The lion turned around and held the tiger down in his arms as he nuzzled the prince’s neck and gave him kisses; his hands caressed and fondled the tiger’s upper body until they reached the tiger’s ribs, and pits, and tummy, where the once-hero glazed his claws against.

His arms, though, remained ever vigilant to keep the tiger from escaping. Kovic used the weight of his buff, muscular body to pin Kleave down. 

More and more the tiger felt the helplessness sink in. It filled him with ticklish dread, and there was no end in sight. Not now, not ever. He bursted out in laughter with every touch of his body and he thrashed like a worm in the mud.

Then came the brushes. From seemingly nowhere the bat gripped onto the handle of a horse hair brush, and scrubbed the tiger’s sole with wicked sadism. The fur danced between his toes and pinkened his arches. The tiger’s feet sweated and glistened as his arches turned pink. The bat memorized each spot he tormented, and noted how the insteps and the secret crevices between the tiger’s toes were his most sensitive spots, where he scream-laughed the loudest.

And oh, Vegas abused this knowledge.

As the hours passed, one tool left the bat’s hand and another joined. Each one antagonized the tiger’s weakness as the crowned prince was reduced to a sobbing, silently heaving mess. His fur matted down from the moisture and his voice was coarse. The tiger’s body twitched, and his cock had not stopped spewing sticky white tiger pre-milk the entire time.

The bat, in a moment of pause, lifted the twitching sole to his face and took a deep whiff. Beyond the salty, sweaty musk, what he desired above all was the scent of torment and the flavor of the tiger’s pure, unadulterated agony. He filled his lungs with the prize that he worked so sadistically towards, and it satisfied him.

His tongue finally left his maw and he took a lick, from the heels to the tiger’s spasming toes. The warm, slimy texture made the tiger scream again. Tears streamed down his eyes as those helpless soles were made a feast of.

Kovic pushed his lips against the tigers, and much like his Master, extracted the tortured laughter from Kleave. The more the tiger struggled, the more aroused the lion became. He was reminded of all the sweet torment that he himself had been put through. His caged cock ached in its chastity device. As much as he’d wanted to stroke it, though, he had already surrendered it to his Master, who was the single person who would dictate when and if he was allowed the experience of pleasure. The lion’s thoughts thrilled himself. He moaned into the kiss that the tiger did not return.

“Mmm. Delicious.” The bat commented as he gave those soles one final lick. Hours of tickling rendered them the tastiest treat he could ask for, in all the realm. The heat. The despair. The absolute misery that was inflicted upon the crowned prince. Vegas took his moment to drink it all in. The first time his victim was tickled to the brim of insanity was always the tastiest – when they still clung onto the very last thread of their minds. You can only snip that once, after all, before they all fall into their own ticklish hell.

What little consciousness of Kleave’s mind thought that it was finally over – for the day, anyway. That perhaps he could finally pass out and get some rest. Get several hours to himself where his brain would not hammer him with what felt like his imminent ticklish demise.

The bat, of course, counted on that. Vegas wanted to crush that last little sliver of hope himself. The bat grinned widely as he waited, dramatically, for the tiger to regain his posture, so that the tiger got the blunt of reality as it slammed into him.

“Kovic. My loyal, handsome, deviously ticklish foot pet.” The bat whispered as though he was speaking to a lover. “I have need of your services tonight.”

“Yes, of course, Master!” The lion replied with glee as he broke away from consuming the tiger to face the bat.

“I want you to help prepare the prince for tonight’s rest.” The bat’s cracked smile did not offer any sense of comfort for the tiger. “Make certain he is bathed and cleaned. Then, I want you to use a pumice stone to rid my new toy of his rough soles.”

The tiger gasped. 

“Silence, my new toy.” The bat commanded. Kleave’s mouth clamped shut. The bat continued. “I want his toe claws filed down. I want those soles lotioned. I want them baby soft. Do what you must. You have free reign over all the oils in the baths.”

“Of course, Master.” The lion replied. “As you wish.”

“Then, he is to be tied to the bed, my lovely foot pet.” The bat licked his fingers. The taste of the tiger’s feet still lingered on them, and the bat teasingly suckled the pad of his digits as he indulged in the horror on the tiger’s face. “And you are to tickle and lick those soles until the moon falls and the sun rises. Should you educate my new toy to the pleasures of ticklish climax, you will have earned one of your own.”

“No.. noo! Please! Please! I can’t take it anymore! I’ll die!” The tiger cried coarsely for mercy, but none would be shown. Not ever again. “I beg you! Prince Vegas, please don’t do that!”

“And you shall comply, Kleave Zel Ezra. I command it.” The bat’s eyes glowed a demonic red as he invoked the contract that bound the tiger to him. “Your soles are forfeit, and I shall play with my new toys until you are thoroughly broken. You might as well learn to surrender to the joys it will bring you, crowned prince. There will never be another day when your soles go without my attention, because all I desire is for your throat to sing and your feet to suffer.”

=The end=