Patreon Exclusive: May 2025 I

The Jewel of His Collection

By KinkSaber

Past midnight in the mage’s guild in Leyawiin, when everyone else in town was asleep, in the small, closet bedroom on the first floor came the sound of mew and sobs. They were held-back, bitterly silent half-sobs; fearful to be heard but unable to be kept hidden – S’drassa, the khajiit alchemist, was heartbroken as heartbroken could be.

The door to his room creaked as it was slowly opened by a khajiit who sported a white robe, a pair of gold trimmed boots, a blue headband, and silver trinkets braided into his jet-black hair.

“S’drassa. My sweet alchemist. What happened?” He asked.

“..Ra'mir. Ah. forgive me.” S’drassa sniffled and rubbed his nose. He squeezed his eyes shut to clear out the last of his tears. “It is nothing. It’s late. Have you just returned from your adventures? You must be exhausted.”

“I am, but I am never too exhausted for you, my sweet alchemist.” The black khajiit sat next to S’drassa on his bed, and put an arm around the younger mage’s shoulder in a warm embrace. From around his waist the black khajiit retrieved a small pouch and handed it to the alchemist. When S’drassa saw the rare alchemy ingredients in it, he bursted out in tears again. Ra'mir was puzzled. “What saddens you, my love?”

“W-while you were gone.” S’drassa sobbed. His voice cracked, just as much as Ra'mir’s heart did at that very moment. “Someone broke into the mage guild. They stole.. They stole..!”

S’drassa’s face soured and his lips twisted into an ugly frown. The words were stuck in his throat. He needed not say more.

There was only one thing that could upset S’drassa so much. He was a nerd, and the display of shiny rocks in the mage’s guild was his prized collection. They were under heavy lock, both physical and arcane. It wasn’t easy to get into the guild, much less undo the magical enchantments of the display cases they were stored in.

“You went out of your way to find them for me.” S’drassa sobbed again. “The.. the tears. The flawless gemstones. The grand soul gems. They’re all gone. Every last piece.”

Ra'mir was incensed. How dare anyone steal from his sweet, harmless S’drassa? The black khajiit hugged the alchemist tighter and gave him a peck-lick on the cheek.

“I’m sorry, my love.” Ra'mir ran his fingers through the alchemist’s hair. “I should have been here.”

“I mourn, Ra'mir.” S’drassa couldn’t keep his eyes open. “I will never see any of my precious stones again. Oh, how I mourn.”

Ra'mir stripped off his armor and joined S’drassa in bed. They sat quietly with S’drassa’s head on Ra’mir’s shoulder, with a humble blanket over their bodies to keep them warm. Neither of them would sleep that night; not with all the thoughts that raced inside their heads. But, at the very least, they could rest for the time being.

Ra'mir left the mage’s guild in the late morning the next day, after a light breakfast with his beloved alchemist, who barely ate two mouthfuls of bread with butter and jam. S’drassa looked more sickly than normal – the circles under his eyes did not go unnoticed by the other mages.

It was not a difficult thing to track down petty thieves for the black khajiit. In his time as an adventurer, who traveled the province all over, Ra'mir had built an information network with favors, charisma, and a whole lot of bribes. The tavern was the first place he stopped by, and the Blackwood Company Hall the second. It took almost no effort on the black khajiit’s part to find what – and who – he had looked for. Another cat by the name of K’Sharr, a known thief and bandit, who had tried to fence a large number of gemstones as of late. Although K’Sharr declined to say where he got his loot from, it was clear to Ra'mir that this was not just a coincidence.

With his connections, Ra'mir posed as a potential buyer for illicit gems, and set up a meeting at the Three Sisters Inn. K’Sharr fell for it hook, line, and sinker. All it took was a quick costume change into some fancy clothes and the thief believed Ra'mir to be every bit the rich, spoiled, clueless aristocrat that he pretended to be.

With his guards down, all it took for Ra'mir to capture the thief was a prepared paralyze spell. As soon as K’Sharr showed his goods, the black khajiit stood up, kicked his chair out of the way, slammed his palm into K’Sharr’s face, and blasted the thief with the illusion spell at point blank range. For good measure, the black khajiit made sure to use the one with the longest lasting duration in his arsenal. K’Sharr instantly went limp and ragdolled to the table, and as he fell, he crashed into the items that flew in every direction of the room.

The spell was powerful, but would not last. Ra'mir worked quickly to bind the thief’s wrists behind his back and his ankles together with rope that he enchanted to drain the fatigue and strength of whoever it bound. For someone of K’Sharr’s level, it was more than enough to keep him trapped forever. When Ra'mir was finished, the thief was left on his stomach on the floor, his arms and legs hogtied behind him.

“Ho, ho, ho. So the barter was a ruse!” K’Sharr hissed when the paralysis finally wore off.

“The rest of the gems. Where are they?” Ra'mir asked as he picked up the flawless ruby and topaz from the floor, along with five pearls. These, he had gotten as a gift for S’drassa the very last time he ventured into Elsweyr. “There should be three diamonds, an emerald, an ebony ring with a large ruby – seven grand soul gems, three glowing gems, and five Tears of Garridan. Where are they?”

“Wouldn’t be a very good thief if I carried everything on me.” K’Sharr smirked. “Now, why don’t you let me go and we’ll both be on our merry way?”

“Allow me to make it clear to you, sneak thief, that you are rapidly arriving at the FINDING OUT phase of fucking around.” Ra'mir carefully placed the precious stones in a locked jewelry box. “I suggest you cooperate.”

“Kill me, and you’ll never see them again.” The thief threatened. “Only I possess the knowledge of my stash. Look through ten-thousand knotholes, you won’t find where I’ve hidden them.”

“You are aware, thief, that you have burglarized the mage’s guild?” The black khajiit decided to give K’Sharr one final chance.

“Of course. Shiny magic stones sell for far more than non-magical stones.” K’Sharr sounded proud of himself. Big mistake. Huge.

The black khajiit had no qualms with a heavy handed bash to the side of K’Sharr’s head, with the blunt end of his dagger.

“Ow! What the hell was that for?! That hurts!” K’Sharr shouted. “Now I really won’t tell you where I’ve hidden the gems!”

“You’ve taken something very important, from someone very important to me.” Ra'mir said with restrained anger. “I’m going to give you one final chance to return what you’ve stolen, or what happens next will be very, very unpleasant for you.”

“Oh, does the mage’s guild consort with the dark brotherhood now?” K’Sharr said, unafraid. “Go on, then. Slit my throat and watch your gems become lost to history.”

“Unfortunately for you, I’m not part of the mage’s guild. I just happen to know a little magic here and there.” Ra'mir took his dagger and sliced through the thief’s clothes. K’Sharr’s shirt and pants were soon turned into scrap cloth, as was his underwear. His boots, however, were left on his feet when everything else had been discarded. The junk was soon recycled by Ra’mir, who turned it into a gag that was just as rapidly stuffed into the thief’s open maw to silence him. “I had hoped to do this the easy way, but as you’ve insisted on playing games – fine. Let’s play games.”

The black khajiit kicked open a crate that was reinforced with metal hinges on the inside, and threw K’Sharr inside. While the thief panicked, Ra’mir poured over him a potion of silence that he had liberated from S’drassa’s alchemy cupboard – as well as a potion of feather. Soon, K’Sharr found himself unable to make a sound, and as he struggled inside the now locked crate he felt the black khajiit pick it up and carry him away. He couldn’t tell which direction he was being taken to, only that the black khajiit had a certain ominous bounce to his steps. Half an hour later, which couldn’t be that far from Leyawiin, the crate was opened once more, and K’Sharr found himself in a very well furnished basement, where he was dumped on top of a wooden bed on which a luxurious fur blanket had covered the mattress.

A mattress! Like one of those damned nobles.

“Blerg! A nice home like this, and you still had to pick a bone over some stupid gems!” K’Sharr spat the dryness from his mouth and commented on the black khajiit’s room. “You could easily buy the gems back five times over!”

“Yes, I could have.” Ra’mir replied. “But you made it personal, and now it’s personal.”

The black khajiit popped open a bottle of ale and pushed the opening to K’Sharr’s mouth, who happily gulped down several mouthfuls of the cold brew. The mannerless thief burped, then chuckled.

“Ahh.. The good stuff. How about you give me a thousand septims and a half dozen bottles of this ale, and I’ll tell you where the gems are. We’ll put this messy business behind us.” K’Sharr said confidently. He still did not know how much trouble he was in. “Say, what’s your name, anyway?”

“Ra’mir.” The black khajiit said as he set the bottle down. He looked too calm for K’Sharr’s liking. The thief had seen many faces in his time, and he was nothing less than absolutely sure that rich nobles behaved far more poorly when they discovered their items had been stolen. Not Ra’mir, though. The black khajiit didn’t demand for the gems back, didn’t threaten to send him off to jail. Then, something nagged him at the back of K’Sharr’s mind.

“Ra’mir, who?” He asked again. There was something about that name that seemed familiar, but he couldn’t place a finger on it. It was on the tip of his feline tongue.

“Ra’mir. Son of Dro’ashan. Many call me Ra’mir Ashenson.” The black khajiit answered earnestly. He paused, then looked the thief in the eye. “Although you may know me better under my adventurer’s name. I am Ra’mir the bandit hunter.”

K’Sharr’s blood ran cold instantly.

“R-r-r-Ra’mir the M-m-merciless! You’re the butcher!” He exclaimed. Realization dawned on him that he really should not have stolen from the schmuck at the mage’s guild. “T-t-they say a single swing from your sword cuts through flesh and bone! That you never leave a bandit in less than five pieces!”

“Only true of the bodies left at the bandit camps.” The black khajiit removed his armor and placed them on the drawers. “But you? They won’t even find you. Just like the gems you’ve hidden.”

“What are you doing?! Stay away!” K’Sharr felt the fear wash over him. Even though he couldn’t move, he still pushed himself against the wall. “Stay back! I’ll tell you where I hid the gems, I swear! Stay away from me!”

“We’re past a quick slice to the throat, thief.” The black khajiit smirked. “You’ve stolen S’drassa’s smile from me, and now I shall take the same from you. Gems be damned, sneak thief. You’re right – I can buy them back five times over, but never forget, you made this personal, so now it is very personal.”

All of a sudden, K’Sharr felt his strength and energy drain from his body. He was confused, but his eyes soon fell on the bottle of ale that he took greedy gulps from. His body slumped and fell on the bed, his fur against the fur comforter.

“Oh, looks like my special poison has kicked in, just in time.” Ra’mir rubbed his hands together. The naked K’Sharr thought that was it. He was completely helpless, and now the black khajiit would turn him into pieces of meat – like his namesake. Ra’mir the Merciless. He watched with fear in his eyes as Ra’mir approached with the same dagger in his hands – and was surprised to find that Ra’mir had cut the rope that bound his arms and legs together. Even without the bondage, though, the thief was helpless. He couldn’t move a single muscle over any parts of his body. Couldn’t lift a finger. Couldn’t move his tongue to speak.

From the drawer Ra’mir retrieved an enchanted collar. It looked just like the collar of any prisoner in the imperial jail, but this one, the black khajiit made himself. Enchanted. No. It would be more accurate to say this was a cursed item. As soon as it clicked around K’Sharr’s neck, the thief knew he was doomed.

“The poisoned ale, thief, drains your strength and stamina. The collar drains your magicka and replenishes your vitality.” Ra’mir said, and then demonstrated it to K’Sharr with a quick prick of the tip of his dagger on the back of the khajiit’s hand. The wound healed instantly. ”Death is too good for you, K’Sharr. You will pay dearly for what you’ve done to my sweet S’drassa.”

The black khajiit, with the strength of an ogre, manhandled the still-conscious thief’s body, until K’Sharr laid on the bed like a normal person. A normal, but completely immobile person, who was now at the hands of the merciless bandit slayer.

But something didn’t add up. If it was Ra’mir’s intention to kill him, why would the black khajiit throw him on that nice bed?

“As I said, K’Sharr – you’ve stolen the smile from my sweet S’drassa, and so I shall steal the same from you.” Ra’mir said, as if he read his captive’s mind. He lifted the thief’s legs and removed both of his leather boots to reveal the captured feline’s feet. For a thief, K’Sharr didn’t stink. There was only a mild aroma of sweaty feet, which Ra’mir didn’t mind. No. He preferred it that way. A sort of musk that is unique to the toes that were about to be tormented for all they were worth. Feet should smell like feet, but not to the degree of grossness. Ra’mir took another whiff with his nose between K’Sharr’s toes. They smelled so warm and clean – just the way he liked it.

Ra’mir rested K’Sharr’s right ankle on his shoulder, while he took the left ankle in his hands and rubbed his thumb against the thief’s soft sole. The feline’s arch felt so helpless in his strong hands, and when he pushed the claw of his thumb against the tender, wrinkled sole, he felt a sudden, reactive jerk from K’Sharr’s leg. The thief couldn’t move, but he felt everything. His nervous system wasn’t at all dulled by the poison of strength. His body jerked not to his will, but to the excitement of the sudden stimulation against his sensitive feet.

“You’re sensitive. Good.” Ra’mir grinned. “This will be fun for me.”

With one hand firmly around the ankle, Ra’mir used the clawed fingertips of his other hand to impenitently scratch the arch and sole of the paralyzed khajiit’s foot. K’Sharr bounced on the bed as he felt the spasms of his muscles twist and twitch, but still he couldn’t muster the strength to fight against his captor’s hand. The black khajiit’s manicured claws dug groves into the skin of his sole, not sharp enough to pierce the dermis, but enough that it set off alarms in the thief’s head.

“Hah hah hah hah hah..!!” K’Sharr couldn’t hold in the burst of laughter that bubbled and swelled from his chest. Though he could not speak nor manipulate his voice the way he wanted, he was helpless against the rage-flood of the laughter that was to burst from him, as if it was an overfilled water skin. He couldn’t even so much as clench his goddamn ticklish toes as the black khajiit’s fingers poked at them, prickled and scratched them against the tip of those long, hard claws.

The enchantments held on strong, and Ra’mir was as skilled in magicka as he was in the arts of torment; his victim the thief was rendered helpless as a babe as those soles were clawed with a burning desire for vengeance. 

“Your penance – suffer it.” Ra’mir spoke coldly while the thief gasped for air. Tears beaded in the recesses of his eyes as the sensation crept up his leg. K’Sharr screamed with desperation not unlike the bandits that Ra’mir slayed, in the very last moments of their lives. The thief’s mind was jumbled and messy as the tickles assaulted and overwhelmed all of his other senses. That was, of course, with only the claws on the tip of Ra’mir’s fingers.

His legs were dropped only momentarily so that the black khajiit could reach over to the drawer to retrieve a jewel encrusted hair brush. Crafted in silver and decorated with gems of all colors, the ends of each bristle were tipped in small pearls. Ra’mir showed it to the thief.

“You have a thing for stealing shiny rocks, don’t you?” He said, as he turned the brush around so that the thief could admire it. “Allow me to give you what you desire.”

With that, the black khajiit ran the pearl-tipped bristles across the immobile thief’s soles. He focused on the arches where he scrubbed rigorously; Ra’mir pressed the pearl tips roughly against the thief’s arches and ravaged them cruelly. All that K’Sharr could do was scream as his mind disintegrated, as if it was his spirit that was being scrubbed away.

“You love the gems, don’t you? Don’t you?” Ra’mir said, wickedness and malice in his tone. “Go on, love them as you should. Love the coins this brush could bring you. That excites you, doesn’t it, sneak thief?”

K’Sharr’s mouth hung open as the brush continued to decimate every last sensitive inch of his soles. From one foot to the other, and then back again – Ra’mir made sure to allow both arches to taste his ticklish fury as he raked the bristles over them again and again. Up, down, left, right, and then in unending circles. At one point he abandoned the handle and held onto the brush by the silver backing just so he could exert even more force and speed into the devilish tool.

Even the most well crafted tool would break in such rough usage, and so Ra’mir abandoned the brush after they had been used on the thief’s soles for as long as a quarter of a candle to burn.

And then he replaced it with another tool. A fork of pewter that would last longer. The sharp pointy ends scraped along the tender soles as the thief’s scream slowly turned from desperate to shrill shrieks; his laughter no longer present from his mouth, but from it came primordial and bestial grunts, moans, and whimpers like the sudden yelps of a mad cat. 

K’Sharr’s soles had sweated so heavily that they glistened in the moody candle light. The scent of it drove Ra’mir to arousal, and when another quarter of the candles burned, the black khajiit decided perhaps that the thief had suffered enough of the tickles for the time being – and so he pulled the thief’s soles to his face and used his raspy, prickly tongue on them.

Ra’mir noted the sweaty, salty flavor that covered K’Sharr’s entire sole, which was delightful to taste and even more delightful to listen to as he made the thief sing a new song of ticklish demise. The prickly barbs on his tongue traverse over K’Sharr’s soles freely as he lapped greedily, hungrily, from the heels to the tip of the thief’s toes. Ra’mir made sure to moan as he lapped, so that his victim could hear just how much he enjoyed it – and in return K’Sharr cried with moans of disgust and submission. He longed to beg for forgiveness and for the black khajiit to show some semblance of mercy – but he knew in the back of his mind that he would be given none. The black khajiit was, after all, Ra’mir the Merciless. There had never been a bandit who escaped with their life to tell the tale.

One by one each of K’Sharr’s toes entered the black khajiit’s mouth, and one by one they exited covered in Ra’mir’s saliva. Generously wet and suckled they were, and then for added measure the black khajiit wormed his tongue between those digits, only to discover that there was still life in the thief to scream with laughter as those keratin barbs scraped against the tender spots between each of his toes. 

For as long as the enchanted equipment remained on K’Sharr, he would never move again, but that would not be enough for Ra’mir.

The black khajiit retrieved twines, and as he looped them around each of K’Sharr’s toes and pulled them back to force the thief’s sole to be taut. He tied them around K’Sharr’s ankles and made sure those sneaky soles were stretched to the fullest – and then he began the laps of his tongue anew. With his toes pulled back, K’Sharr felt more and more vulnerable. His soles were already defenseless, and now they’ve been made even more shameful than he ever thought they could be before.

Kisses after kisses, licks after licks. Ra’mir had his erotic way with K’Sharr’s soles as the thief screamed his throat raw and coarse. The brush made a return, as did the claws. Smaller paint brushes were introduced to the weak points between his toes. Berries were smeared and crushed against those soles, where Ra’mir took his time in indulging a very special meal, served on the ticklish soles of the thief. He made sure to slowly and deliberately lick the jam from between the toes, and that drove K’Sharr wild with gasps of air. 

When the candles burned out, Ra’mir replaced them and did it all over again. K’Sharr thought he would pass out many times, but thanks to the enchantments on him, he never came close to the mental escape. He was fully awake, fully alert, and his mind was slowly broken over the course of the night. Roosters crowed somewhere in the yard when morning came, but that did not stop the black khajiit from spreading creamed butter between his digits before licking them clean. It did not stop the black khajiit from repeatedly plastering those soles with thick tomato soup and lapping them off until Ra’mir wasn’t sure whether it was the tomato that stained them red, or whether it was because K’Sharr had been mercilessly tickled for so long.

What he did know was that those thief soles tasted great, still, and he could not get enough of the exquisite flavor of torment, or the sounds from K’Sharr’s mouth that signaled a demented, insane mind.

The candles were replaced again on the second night, and the wolves howled. K’Sharr, too, howled with laughter after a healing potion was forced into his maw to heal his damaged vocal cords. Straw brushes tipped with dried wheat chaff were applied with just as much gusto to his soles. K’Sharr sobbed when Ra’mir showed it to him. To break up the monotony, Ra’mir pressed the cold, metal side of a silver glass, filled with iced mead, against K’Sharr’s soles, before he took a sip from the cup and continued.

The moon fell and the sun rised again. The third day arrived. Then, following that, the third night. A new addition – a ring, which rather than K’Sharr’s finger, went over his erect cock. Enchanted, naturally, to cease a second orgasm when Ra’mir noticed the first. This wasn’t for the thief’s pleasure – it was for his own. The thief who took the smile from his sweet S’drassa’s face did not deserve pleasure. Only suffering will do. Once equipped, K’Sharr would be kept on the edge of pleasure forever. The thief could not move, could not buckle his hips, could not do anything to finish himself as his spirit was burned alive by the heat of the ticklish pleasure that his soles bought him. After only two days and two nights, K’Sharr could no longer distinguish the stimulation of tickling and torment. It was one and the same to his broken him, and his body craved release as a parched tongue craved water in the desert. 

Ra’mir, too, was exhausted.

The black khajiit laid next to his captive on his own bed, both of them were drenched in sweat. K’Sharr more than Ra’mir, as expected. The black khajiit leaned over and gave his captive a kiss over his lips, and licked the salty tears off of K’Sharr’s cheek.

“A little rest, then tomorrow, you shall truly be filled with regret.”

If K’Sharr could sleep, he would – but the enchanted equipment on him kept him awake the entire time, and it kept him aroused and erect with just the lingering sensation of the black khajiit’s tongue across his still tingling soles.

It felt like an eternity, but that was the last time K’Sharr would know peace.

In the morning, Ra’mir awoke and left the room briefly. When he returned, he carried with him a bucket. It sloshed when Ra’mir moved. K’Sharr’s heart pounded with anxiety.

Then, to K’Sharr’s surprise, Ra’mir pushed the bed away to reveal a trap door underneath the carpet. The black khajiit carried the limp thief down into another level underground. And another. And another. Three floors beneath the basement of the mansion was a mausoleum, but there was something very, very wrong with it.

For one, it was too clean. Not a speck of dirt nor cobweb on the walls. 

For another, there were muffled sounds of moans and laughter, which seemed both very close and very far at the same time. The depth of the cavern had muted the sound from escape. He did not recall any noise the night prior except the sound of Ra’mir breath against his neck.

An open sarcophagus waited for him at the end of the short hall, and K’Sharr moaned as his eyes darted while he was placed inside. His feet, however, were shoved through two holes at the end of the tomb, his toes still bound by the twine. K’Sharr looked at the black khajiit, and moaned a final plea to not leave him to die there.

“Oh, no. No, no, no.” Ra’mir chuckled. “You’re not going to die down here, but you’re going to wish you could.”

Ra’mir made his way around the stone tomb once, then stopped at K’Sharr’s feet, where he used his claw to slice the twines that bound the thief’s toes. Then, he gave each of them a kiss, and slipped golden rings on them for decoration.

“These rings aren’t enchanted. You can relax.” He smiled as he gave those digits a kiss again. “Purely decorative. I do love for my little trophies to look good. Unlike the tomb, which is enchanted to never open again once it’s been sealed. I don’t think there’s a spell in this realm or oblivion that could lift it. It’s quite permanent.”

K’Sharr’s heart began to pound again. Tears filled his eyes as he began to sob.

“Oh, don’t cry, K’Sharr. Your feet look beautiful in my collection!” Ra’mir said as he reached over to give the arches a quick swipe of his finger. “So beautiful. Better than the gems and jewels that you stole, don’t you agree?”

The black khajiit hummed to himself as he lifted the top of the sarcophagus and pushed it over the open tomb. Light faded from K’Sharr’s legs, then thighs, then tummy, and then there was only a small slither of warm candlelight against K’Sharr’s face.

“I know what you’re thinking, K’Sharr. Sneak thief. You think I’d leave you down here to rot. No, no, no. Ask the rest of the bandits – ah, you can’t speak anymore, can you? Well, if you could converse, they’d tell you that I come down here once a week to keep all of you company – and you are going to be my new favorite. How lucky for you.”

K’Sharr put everything he had into his throat, but no matter what, nothing that sounded like words came from his mouth. Only a weak, pathetic whine escaped from between his lips.

“If only you would back my S’drassa’s shiny stones, hmm? I’d have only punished you with the tickling – but as you are an unrepentant sneak thief, I have no choice but to add you to the rest of my collection – of tough, gorgeous, ticklish criminals who would serve better as my trophies than waste away in the imperial jail cells.”

Ra’mir looked around him – in the room where many sarcophaguses laid. Some were open and empty, others were closed and sealed with an equally adorable and equally doomed bandit inside – all of the closed ones had a pair of immobile, defenseless soles locked outside. All of them were muffled with laughter.

“Oh, yes, before I forget – I couldn’t leave you bored in there, now, can I?”

The black khajiit left and soon returned with the bucket. He poured the glittery slime over the thief’s naked body – with the focus on his torso and crotch.

“An alchemical concoction of my dear S’drassa’s design. Completely harmless – well, physically. Enjoy your eternity of unscratchable itches, sneak thief.”

As the words left Ra’mir’s mouth, K’Sharr felt the intense itching from where the slime made contact. The thick, goopy mess slowly spread out over the rest of his body, which ironically left his trapped soles alone. His armpits itched. His tummy itched. His palms and neck itched.

His dick itched.

His dick was so sensitive, and it itched so badly.

It grew erect. Hardened. It itched harder. His cock twitched – and then the slime crept over his piss slit. The itching only intensified more as each second passed, and Ra’mir looked on with glee. The tears in his eyes blurred his vision, but that was the very last image that K’Sharr ever saw.

“I’ll taste your soles again soon, my pretty. Keep your toes ticklish for me, won’t you?”

That was the last thing K’Sharr heard before the stone tomb was closed and sealed forever with a loud, harrowing thump. Then, in the darkness, he felt the kiss of his captor’s lips against his toes before the phantom sensation was all he had left to accompany him – that, and, of course, the maddening itches that now crept between his ass cheeks. K’Sharr dreaded to think what would happen if it clung to his asshole – but he knew the bubbly slime would soon reach his most private spot, too – as they had already oozed all over his itchy balls.

—

“S’drassa! My sweet alchemist!” Ra’mir announced his presence as he stepped into the mage’s guild for the first time in two weeks. 

“Ra’mir! Oh, my love!” The khajiit looked as though he hadn’t eaten for days. “I was so worried! I – I thought I lost you, too! I hated myself! I thought, if I lost you because of my gems, because you went after them – oh, I would never forgive myself!”

“Ra’mir the bandit hunter would not fall so easily.” The black khajiit laughed and struck a pose. Then, he loosened a bag from his waist and handed the pouch to the alchemist. “I have something for you.”

S’drassa unknoted the rope that kept the pouch shut, and gasped when he saw its contents. “My gems?! How?! But how?!” The khajiit cried with tears of joy. “Oh, they’re beautiful! I never thought I’d see them again – wait, there’s even more! Some that were not part of my collection! How, Ra’mir, how?!”

“The truth is, I enchanted the ruby ring before I gave it to you.” Ra’mir chuckled, as if he had pulled a prank on someone. “Nothing exciting. Just a tracking spell. My own ring would light up if I came within twenty feet. That way I would always know if you were close by.”

“..You romantic..!” S’drassa smiled shyly. “Is that why you were gone for so long?”

“Well, there were a lot of grounds to cover. I walked the entire city twice over, then around the walls. Found them in a tree stump a half hour’s walk away, off the side of the road. Lucky for me, the thief stashed them all in one place.”

“You did all that for me?” S’drassa got teary again.

“I’d do anything to see that smile on your face again, my sweet alchemist.”

“..And the thief?” S’drassa asked. “Will he not try to steal these again?”

“I took good care of him. He has agreed to turn over a new leaf.” The black khajiit chuckled. He licked his lips, and for a moment he thought he tasted K’Sharr’s toes. He smiled. “He works for me now – as.. Heh, an underground agent. He is skilled at what he does, and, truthfully, he has no choice but to serve me.”

“My love.” S’drassa kissed the black khajiit. “Thank you. You really do know how to put a smile on my face.”

“Putting smiles on faces. That’s what I’m here for!”

He couldn’t wait to return to his humble abode – and put a smile on K’Sharr face once more.

=The end=