Saber Writes

Patreon Exclusive: October 2025 I

Condemned Soles in Tickle Hell

By KinkSaber

“Hey! You little shit! That’s my car!” The tiger shark roared at the younger looking deer who parked next to him. Gerald Raves – that’s Rah-Vees, as he so often corrected others who mispronounced his name – was a moderately wealthy, self-assertively successful, materialistic, and extremely jealous person. “Back off! Back the fuck off – don’t you dare touch my car!”

Jealous, as the dictionary definition and not the normally used version. Gerald Raves hated with a burning passion whenever he perceived his territory to be trespassed. Of course, the one time he did not park his high end sports car with four well-deserved spots, some idiot teenager pushed their shitwagon within inches of his just-detailed vehicle. 

“I’m not touching your car, man!” The deer held both hands up and showed his palm to the rapidly approaching tiger shark, whose thick, meaty tail was erect with aggression. “Calm down! I don’t want any trouble. I was just leaving, anyway.”

“YOUR DOOR HIT THE SIDE OF MY CAR! You fucking vandal! Don’t you DARE drive off without leaving your insurance!” Gerald shouted at the retreating deer. He took a photo of the car, including the license plate, with an obvious flash (despite it being daytime) to intimidate the other driver. “I GOT YOUR PLATE! I got your plate, you asshole! I’m going to report you as a hit and run! My lawyer is going to RAKE YOU OVER THE COALS!”

“Dude! Get a life!” The deer shouted back. “I didn’t touch your car!”

The tiger shark’s demeanor became progressively aggressive and unhinged. The deer, in fear for his safety, floored his gas pedal and bolted out of the parking lot. He thought he was safe two blocks over when he saw in his rear view mirror the same car that the tiger shark claimed he had scratched speeding towards him. He let out a surprised yelp and once more floored the gas pedal the moment the lights turned green. He took a right turn, then another, then a third; and even cut through a gas station to skip a red light – but all of that was for naught when the same sports car was on his tail. 

He knew the area well, the deer, and in the middle of his panic he remembered that there was a sheriff’s station not too far away. It was a bit of a stretch, though, but he knew he could cut through Farmer Brown's hidden route for the locals that didn’t show up on any GPS. He had driven through that path many times, and he gambled everything he had that the rich cityboy wouldn’t be able to follow him through there. The road was barely visible by the old oak tree.

He drove at a steady pace, and his palm began to sweat when he saw in the mirror that the sports car was catching up. It wasn’t far now. He took a left at the corner store and sped past the straight, unobstructed road. There were less vehicles once they had left the busiest part of town, which gave him a little more leeway to escape; but it also meant that the maniac behind him pushed his engine to the limit, too.

Past the park, past the old fisherman’s store. Past the giant inflatable beer. Past the turn that gave him just enough time to lose line of sight. The deer saw the oak tree from an arm’s reach away, and when it was clear he stepped on the gas once more and sped towards it; and as he practiced many times before he slowed for the turn, and as soon as he entered the old farm road, took off into the distance between the rows of corn and wheat. When he came out the other side of the field, he rocketed his car into Farmer Brown’s abandoned older barn, which was conveniently tucked behind the equipment shed where the tractors were kept, killed the engine, and waited in silence.

And waited. 

And waited.

His heart pounded in his chest. A minute passed, then two, then five. When fifteen minutes passed and there were no signs of the tiger shark or any other cars through that native path, he got out of his car, picked up an old, rusty rake to defend himself, and carefully peeked his head out of the red barn door.

Nothing.

The town was as peaceful as it had ever been.

“Holy shit. I can’t believe I got away!” The deer cried. He fell to the floor, his knees weak as wet noodles. “Holy shit! I thought I was going to die!”

With the adrenaline of his near-death experience still fresh in his veins, the deer decided to extend his adventure to the local Bucky’s coffee shop – where he ordered a cup of oat milk cookie and cream latte with seventeen pumps of organic, cruelty free, ethically sourced vanilla syrup.

Then, in stereotypical Gen Z fashion, the deer posted about the insanity of his afternoon on social media for the likes and the clout, which to his credit received numerously; and the memory of the unhinged tiger shark faded from his mind as he started nineteen consecutive hours of doomscrolling from the safety of his hammock bed.

—

“Well, howh-dy!” A deep voice boomed with an unmistakable southern accent, which was strange, considering the last thing Gerald remembered was being two hours east of New Hawk City, doing his best to run the fucking shitbox of a car off the side of the road. The tiger shark saw stars, but the night sky was not the one that he was used to. It was red. Tainted so red that it seemed the atmosphere was painted in blood.

“What the fuck? Where the fuck am I?” He picked himself up from the ground, his head dizzy. There was a nausea that he could not understand from where it came. Did he crash? No. Nothing hurts. He patted his body down to double check. All around him were golden fields of wheat. Once again, something was incredibly off with what he saw. His vision was mildly blurry. Where was his car?

He turned around to find himself surrounded by nothing but wheat. The ground was soft. Soft? That’s not how the floor works. He blinked several times to get the blurriness to go away, then when he looked again, he screamed.

“WHAT THE FUCK?!” 

The ground wasn’t dirt. The pulsating flesh under his feet throbbed with each step. He looked closer. The stalks of wheat ended in eyeballs covered in a yellow slime, and the corns frayed open revealed rotted fangs where the kernels should be. 

“WHAT THE FUCK?!” He repeated. He took a step back, but then bumped into something that felt burned intense as lava and cold as glacier. Physically hot, chilled him to the bone, and both sensations seeped through his fancy tailored suit jacket at the same time. He turned around and fell on his ass once more, and felt grossed out by the writhing flesh that made up the ground below him. He screamed in panic, and then the tiger shark was picked up by two large, firm hands like he was a baby, and set on the floor on his feet once more.

The shock of being lifted knocked him out of the spasm just long enough for him to take a good look at the other. A ram. Larger than him, by a good two and a half feet. Gerald was by no means a small guy. He stood six foot high, worked out regularly, and was two hundred and fifty pounds of lean, pure fishcake. The suit he wore barely contained the muscles he packed. The gray ram, by contrast, had a belly bulge behind those denim overalls and looked like he was ready to hibernate. The fact that the ram lifted him so easily made him gasp and look at the bovine in the eye. He looked normal, at least.

No, something was off. He couldn’t put his finger on it. Hazy, but it was right in his face. Something. Something was incredibly wrong. It was on the tip of his tongue but it was impossible for his mind to pick it out among the sea of chaos.

“Where the fuck are we? Who the fuck are you?!” He finally said, now that his question had an audience.

“Easy there, sugar. One step at a time now.” The ram spat out the stalk of wheat from between his lips. “I’m Jebediah Brown, and boy, this here’s my farm y’all standing on. You can call me Pawpaw Jeb.”

“What kind of fucking farm is this!?” The tiger shark cried out loud. “This is the weirdest SHIT I’ve ever seen in my life! I need to get out of here, NOW!”

“Wow. Get with the times, they said – y’know, back in my days such language would not be tolerated.” The ram said firmly, with authority that could only come with rough age. “Sugar, you ain’t going nowhere. Saw you out there, chasin’ Solomon’s boy. Saw you from five miles away, I did, stomping that fancy gas pedal with hot steam puffing out y’all’s ears.”

“Solomon, is it?” The tiger shark said.

“Solomon’s boy.” The ram corrected. “Zeke Miller.”

“Well, that’s very helpful.” Gerald faked the pleasantry. He was out for blood. “For my lawyers.”

“Not for you, sugar.” The ram laughed. “Like I toldcha, you ain’t going nowhere. Not with that temper. I’d bet you’d run right off to hassle Solomon’s boy.”

“Listen, Pawpaw Taters or whatever!” The tiger shark leaned towards the ram and poked his finger into Jeb’s chest. Rude, but not unexpected; and given the difference in their stature there was essentially no force put behind the poke. “I’m going to sue the fuck out of that little shitstain, take his shitbox, sent it off to a scrap yard to crush into a tiny little metal cube, and there’s nothing you can do about it. I’ll sue you, too, if you won’t get outta my way!”

“Awh haw!” The ram chuckled heartily. “Gonna be mighty hard for ya to do that when you’re stuck here. Go on. Try. Try! I’m not stopping you!” The ram pointed towards the farm house across the field. “Exit’s that way.”

The tiger shark stuck out his tongue at the ram, who continued to laugh it off as Gerald stomped towards the farmhouse in the not-so-far distance. There was a bit of an uphill climb before a slope that took him back down. His sight was set on the house, but it seemed that every time he blinked the house became further away. He picked up a stick and smacked the wheat to entertain himself. His body grew warm, and the sound of abiotic flesh squelching beneath his loafers was soon filtered out of his brain. Whenever the stick in his hand struck the wheat, he swore he heard the tiniest screams belched by the root, as if each of the stalks were alive and conscious of the abuse.

“What the fuck?! How far is that goddamn house?!” The tiger shark groaned. Just as he raised the stick to strike at the wheat again, he noticed something. The stalk of wheat had already been broken. He looked ahead and saw broken stalks periodically, almost to the same rhythm of his walking pace where he’d swing his arm. “What the..”

He turned around, only to find that the ram stood silently behind him, no more than two feet away.

“HOLY FUCKING SHIT! WHERE DID YOU COME FROM?!” Gerald screamed, and whipped the stick at the ram.

“Like I said, sugar. You ain’t going anywhere!” Jeb laughed with a deeply chilling voice. The wooden stick barely touched him before it burst into flames. The skin and fur on the ram’s face melted away as it exposed the flesh and bone underneath, and the whites of the ram’s eyes blackened as blood ran down his skull cheeks like tears. His pupils glowed with the fury of hellfire while the iris turned scarlet red. “I rather like Solomon’s boy. He’s a little troublemaker but never fails to give me a good laugh on hallow’s eve. Why, last year, little Zeke sent me some very energetic visitors. A rapscallion by the name of.. Hmm. What was his name again?”

The tiger shark incoherently screamed and pointed at the horrendous, gory transformation that took place practically in his face. Even as he peddled himself backward he didn’t get any further from the demonic ram that had his deadened, evil sight on the scared shitless Gerald.

“..Just like this year, I suppose!” The ram’s warm chuckles soon turned into wicked cackles. “So full of life and vigor! I say, you’re going to be a tasty little snack, sugar!”

Gerald screamed hysterically when he felt the wheat stalks become fleshy tentacles that lifted him into the air. He turned his head around only to see the field of wheat and corn now extend infinitely into the distance. The farm house that was there only seconds ago appeared to never have been there in the first place. The stars in the sky faded, and the redness of it revealed to be bioluminescent flesh and fat.

And it was then that Gerald realized what bothered him so much. Despite being out in the field, not a single stalk of wheat swayed the way it should. There was no wind in the air, yet the field scuttered and writhed, as if it was a poorly generated video clip by artificial intelligence who did not understand how wind interacted with the physical world.

“NO! NO! NO! PLEASE DON’T HURT ME! I’M SORRY, I’M SORRY! PLEASE DON’T HURT ME!” The tiger shark cried.

“Now why’d you go on thinking I’d do something like that?” The ram said with amusement. “There’s no value in the dead, sugar.”

That, however, did not give Gerald even the slightest bit of relief. The wheat stalk tentacles became twisted flesh of muscle and bark and bound him by his waist; smaller tendrils circled his wrist and ankles and pulled him until his whole body was taut. Lifted into the air, not far from the ground, but high enough that it would give him a moment’s hesitation if he jumped from the height. He felt his weight fall behind him as his legs were lifted higher still, until the writhing flesh transformed once more into the branch of a dead tree, and he was bound on it with no hope to escape.

“No, no, no! What are you going to do to me?!” He asked. He let out a shriek when he saw the ram’s skeletal head pop up next to his face. “No! No! Wait! Please! Please let me go! I won’t hurt Zeke! I’ll leave town! I’ll leave immediately! I’ll never come back! Please believe me! I’ll do anything! I’ll give you all my money!”

“You’re terribly cute when you’re afraid, sugar.” The ram grinned with his teeth exposed. The way his skull bent was all wrong. Bone should not move like that. It was as if something wore the ram’s physical form as a skin, and did not know how to control it. “Promise I won’t hurt ya. That delicious voice, though, and all of your fear. Give it up. Sing for me!”

At the sound of his voice, the tiger shark’s loafers were yanked off his feet; and the next to go were his sheer socks that matched the color of his suit, which met their fate when it tore and turned into ash that blew away with the unnaturally calm, stagnant air. 

From the edge of the branch grew heads of wheat, but upon closer inspection each of them waggled like insects. A swarm of golden insects that scurried over the branch-wood onto the tiger shark’s soles. The swarm that invited themselves over the tender, creamy soles that Gerald had always been too embarrassed to reveal to anyone else. He saw their ticklishness as a weakness and hid them in those sheer socks at all times, and that only contributed to how soft and sensitive they grew to be over the years.

The many spikes at the head of these wheat were like antennas or legs, and the grains the teeth and fingernails. Each one seemed to be sentient and completely aware of their duty as they took to the tiger shark’s helpless arch where they scraped and scratched the helplessly bound soles.

“No! Oh no! Oh noh-hoh hoh hoh hoh hohhh!!” Gerald couldn’t help the giggles that surfaced from the depths of his chest. It took almost no time for him to abandon the fear of the supernatural hellscape and the face of the demonic ram, and in their stead embrace the overwhelming tickle panic that set in. “No! Please not my feet! Not my feet! I’m too ticklish! Please, I'm begging you! Not my feet! Not my fee-hee-eet!”

“Keep begging, sugar. Ah, I love the sound of that!” The ram was charmed by how the tiger shark’s entitlement and pizazz all bubbled away to reveal the vulnerable self he had hidden, like armor that fractured and fell away. Jeb licked his blood-soaked tongue against where the lips would have gone on his skull-bone face. He soaked in the desperate sound of the tiger shark’s extracted laughter, as each breath Gerald exhaled also carried with it the vigor and flavor of life itself. “I reckon you got plenty in you. Give it all to me!”

From the branch grew more of the ram’s unholy crops. Two ears of corn peeled back its husk and revealed its tiny chompers by the tiger shark’s armpits. Gerald threw his body weight around, but it was useless against the mighty orchid that had him tangled up. The teeth began to nibble against his exposed pits and the sickly green husk leaves acted as tongue that lapped against his fish-tender skin. The corn hair, like impossibly long fingers, scratched against the rapidly reddening armpits that drove the tiger shark mad. Gerald howled with laughter. He couldn’t tell what was worse – the tickling on his feet or the tickling against his pits. As much as he tried to pull his arms and legs towards his torso the tree that kept him captive was sturdier than even steel.

“NOOHH!! NOOH NOOH NOOH HOH HOH HOHH HOHH HOHH HOHH HOHH!!” Tears streamed quickly from his eyes as the tiger shark was thrown into disarray. Drool and snot messed up his perfectly handsome face – or at least, perfectly handsome when he kept his mouth shut. The only part of his body that was still under his control was his jaw, which flapped involuntarily as the laughter was methodically extracted out of him with increasingly intense tickling.

Which, of course, was exactly what Jebediah Brown wanted.

Grape vines crept up and around the tiger shark’s legs, and though there were poisonous thorns they only acted as a mild irritant to Gerald’s skin. It was the vine that was the real problem – as they coiled around those powerless legs like venomous serpents, the secretions they painted Gerald’s legs made him itch. First, each leg was individually wrapped as the tiger shark’s lower body was slowly mummified; soon both legs were completely encased in the plant matter. Cold. Warm. Squirmy. The vines birthed gushy fruits that splattered the tiger shark’s legs in its juices, which only exacerbated the itching sensation on Gerald’s inner thighs, behind his knees, and the small area between his taint and his balls.

Gerald grimaced his face and whined between the giggles. He so desperately wanted to give himself a good scratch, but nevermind his hands – he couldn’t even clench his muscles to give himself any sort of relief from furious itching. Worse than being stung by mosquitos. Worse than that one time when he had been pranked with itching powder. It was as if the vines knew exactly what made him tick, and the secretions inflicted upon him the most maddening itch that he could bear without losing his mind.

Then, there was his exposed tummy. 

That was a special spot that the ram ram his skeletal fingers across with great pleasure. Even a single touch was enough to force the tiger shark into a gasp and exhale before he blurbed out another flood of laughter from his chest. Cute. Sensitive. But not as much as his feet.

Oh yes, those pretty, pretty feet.

It was diabolical how sensitive they were born to be, and they would soon become Jeb’s new favorite things.

Jeb loved the way the tiger shark’s toes wiggled, but there was also something about the way toes held taut, completely immobilized, unable to wiggle while the poor soul they’re attached to screamed their brain into pudding. The ram wanted both, all at the same time. A thought passed in that skull, and it was realized.

The spikes on the wheat bugs became claws, and though sharp they did not pierce the tiger shark’s skin as they further entangled themselves on and between each of Gerald’s toes on his right foot. The wheat stalks wormed their way over the base of Gerald’s toes as the spikes pulled the side of it back, until the tiger shark’s right foot was hyper flexed and completely immobile. His left foot was still free, as free as could be, and those toes there enjoyed the freedom to wiggle and dance to the ram’s delight.

“That’s right, sugar, don’t stop. Don’t ever stop dancin’ and singin’ for me!”

He pressed his skull against the flexed right foot and ran his forked tongue between Gerald’s toes, which tasted like paradise to the ruler of this tickle hell. The ram moaned, which sounded more like the death throes of terminality than one of sexual excitement; but nonetheless he absorbed the life essences of the tiger shark through the contact and gulped the salty flavor of the tiger shark’s foot sweat down into his rotten and miserable throat.

He slipped his hand over the other foot, and forced his bony fingers between each of the desperately wiggly toes. Both of them clenched their digits at the same time – Gerald in a futile resistance to deny the ram access, and the ram’s much more successful act to press the tiger shark’s sole against his own skeletal palm. The bone raked cruelly against Gerald’s sensitive feet and the tiger shark howled once again, his feet shook and trembled as the ram took advantage of the insane ticklishness within his grasp. 

There was the ram’s teeth, which nibbled on the helplessly taut sole; and his tongue that brushed and licked over each of those trapped toes. The wheat flickered and glazed the unattended tops, and similar to the vines even the stalks that bound the base of the tiger shark’s toes began to evolve and grow thorns that prickled and tormented him with a steady infusion of sweet smelling sap that cursed each of those digits with an itch that could never be scratched. Diabolical, indeed – for the area that they inflicted the itchy agony was hidden by the stalk itself, and that fact soon settled in the depths of the tiger shark’s mind as his screams became unhinged and deranged. 

The ram continued his mid-autumn feast of the tiger shark’s soles while Gerald slipped several words from his mouth. Something about his toes. Something about the itch. Something that sounded like begging. Most of it, however, was the delightful sound of a sinner losing his fucking mind through the forceful reaping of laughter, all of it as delicious as the toes that the ram’s tongue could not afford to abandon.

In that space, there was no sun, no moon, and no stars. Hours passed while the ram indulged and gorged himself on the soles that were once creamy, but now red and bright as the cursed flesh soil itself. His tongue made familiar every last crease and wrinkle that the unbound foot had to offer, and to ticklishly abuse the toes that mobility had been robbed from. His bony fingers had the honor of sensual caresses and gropes against Gerald’s helpless feet as each tongue was a new torment that the tiger shark could not get used to. Every touch elicited another moan or laughter. It was one or the two – and even the ram could not predict which one would come from between the tiger shark’s soft lips.

It was much later – much, much later that Jebediah Brown even felt a smidge of satisfaction. Enough only for a pause. How long has it been? Days? Weeks? All he knew was that Samhain had not yet passed. It could not have been long. It was a good feast – and one that he could continue to devour for eons to come.

He stopped to take in a breath of the abyssal air. Foul and tainted, but filled with the scent of the tiger shark’s ticklish demise. The ram’s skull smiled. Satisfied? Yes, but not nearly enough. 

Yet, if he were to keep the tiger shark as a source of his sustenance, he must perform the ritual. After all, mortals are such fragile things that would break if one such as he played with them too hard, like cheap toys from overseas factories with little regulations. The magic of his realm can only preserve them for so long before a permanent solution has to be implemented.

The scenery flashed, and this time, they were much closer to the farm house. It was the sound of dirt being shoveled that snapped the tiger shark out of his daze.

Try as he may, all that intensive laughing had cost him his voice. Temporarily, at least, he could not speak, nor form words, nor make demands to be released. Gerald looked to the sound of the noise and once more panic set in when he saw the ram digging a fresh hole next to a cemetery. He knew in his heart that the spot was meant for him.

Death would be, perhaps, the most merciful thing that could be offered to him – but he also understood that it was not so; for he could see clearly all the other plots, each one marked with a headstone, were feet that protruded from the grounds. Each pair looked different in size and shape and color of fur, but all of them suffered from an eternal ticklish fate of their own. From the ground were plants of various genuses as diverse as the feet they tormented. 

“Hope y’all ready for your new home here in the countryside!” The ram said teasingly, as he threw out the last shovel full of dirt. The tiger shark screamed once more as the tree that held him captive warped and transformed into a coffin – and as he expected, while his entire body was bound and stuffed into the box, his feet were left isolated on the exterior. He was still stuck in the same pose, and now his body was pressed stiff inside.

When the box was fully closed, and he was drowned in complete darkness, Gerald felt himself lowered into the ground, head first. He felt the small reverberations when dirt was thrown against the cursed, wooden box; the sound of which became more and more muffled as he was buried alive. He felt the ram pat down the ground to secure him there. He felt the flesh-earth enclose around his ankles – and then he was trapped, forever.

And then, two seconds later, he felt the same torturous wheat-things crawl all over his helplessly immobile sole, and squirm between the wiggling toes of his other foot. 

Gerald found his voice returned, his vigor renewed, and his consciousness firm as stone. Laughter spilled from his mouth, but he was the only audience of it now.

He felt tongue and teeth rake rampantly across his feet.

He felt his toes suckled on. He felt the delirium set in as his mind hazed over just enough to stop thinking, as if he was forced to focus on the ticklish sensations that flooded his brain.

A loud thud. Something heavy was placed somewhere close by. That must be his headstone.

One by one, his trapped toes began to spread as the prickly weed and vines coiled and dug between the incredibly sensitive area between those digits. Gerald screamed. He begged. None would hear him again.

The ram sat on the old, crickety rocking chair on the front porch of his rustic farmhouse. His skeletal form became the gentle giant once again. He reached his hand out in a plucking motion as he pulled a pair of feet into his grasp, from thin air they appeared. He took it to his nose and pressed them against his nostrils, where he took a deep whiff of them.

“Mmm! Aged like fine wine, you did!” The ram let his tongue slip from between his lips, and took a long lick from the heels to the tip of those toes. There was a spasm from the sudden stimulation, but soon it receded and the toes obediently spread wide open for the ram to take advantage of. “Such a good boy you are, sugar. Nothing like a couple hundred years of tickling to bring out the deep flavors of hopelessness!”

Whoever those soles belonged to, they learned.

The toes wiggled for the ram. They spread for the ram. The arches flexed and curved for the ram. Seduced him. Begged him for his attention. That pair of feet understood – that every minute they were tasted and licked by the ram, it was one minute less of the tickling they would suffer in that endless tickle hell. Being worshipped and tasted was infinitely better than the torment by Jebediah’s autonomous demonic crops.

That was a lesson in humility that Gerald, too, will learn.. In a couple hundred years. Maybe more. The tiger shark wasn’t very bright, after all.

=The end=

Patreon Exclusive: September 2025 II

Cumcows at the Tickle Ranch

By KinkSaber

Foreword: I'm not even going to pretend Patreon will allow the full story be posted on the website, lmao. This story is much more spicier than the usual stories, so I'm sure the censorbots will spasm out and throw a tantrum.

The PDF is available on the discord's PDF channel.

Link to discord: https://discord.gg/7AkDkeuj

If your discord account is synced to Patreon, you will be automatically given access by the Patreon bot. If your account is not linked or if you don't use discord, PLEASE MESSAGE ME AND LET ME KNOW. I can send you a copy of the stories directly.

“..Wait. Lucky?” The rabbit stuttered backwards and pressed his back against the wolf that he led behind him.

“..Cael?!” The raccoon, similarly, backed into the snow leopard’s leg.

The two looked at each other in silence while the two of them froze in place. Each felt as though they were caught redhanded for a moment, before they both remembered that they were at The Tickle Ranch. Then, the rabbit looked up to scan the figure behind the raccoon. “IS THAT MISTER CHARMINGS?!” He gasped loudly. Cael looked at the snow leopard, who turned his head sideways with a spectacular failure to hide his identity and the blush on his cheek, and then back to Lucky, who sighed.

“Cat’s out of the bag now, I suppose. And you – you, Cael Bayleaf. YOU said there was nothing between the two of you!” The raccoon quickly diverted the attention to the wolf who stood behind the rabbit – gagged with a red rubber ball, collar around his neck, attached to a sturdy metal chain, just like the snow leopard was.

The rabbit grunted with annoyance. “There is nothing between us!” His cheek felt warm, too. “This is – this is punishment! Pun-ish-ment! Because he’s been a big bad wolf!”

“You’re never going to let him hear about the end of that award thing, huh?” The raccoon cackled. “He did ruin your big moment, after all.”

“And you!” The rabbit couldn’t keep his eyes off of the snow leopard behind Lucky. “You and Charmings! Suddenly a lot of stuff makes a lot more sense!”

The raccoon yanked the chain around the snow leopard’s neck, and Darvy groaned in displeasure.

“This chucklefuck? Yeah, you can call it a sort of punishment, too.” The raccoon yanked on the chain again, against the defiant snow leopard. “Knee, boy.”

Darvy instantly dropped to the ground, his back straight up, and his arms firmly behind him – even though they were not bound together.

“Holy shit.” The rabbit laughed. “I’m dreaming. I’ve never thought that Charmings looked so good in – in – well – that!”

“Your ‘pet’ there isn’t offensive to the eyes, either.” The raccoon commented after he eyed the wolf up and down. Lucky licked his lips. He had grown bolder ever since he started tormenting Charmings, and there was something that urged him to say what was on his mind. “..You know, Cael. I booked the VIP suite here today, and there’s plenty of space if you care to join.”

“..As long as you promise to not judge how freaky Chad and I can get.” Cael said, suddenly self conscious of what he wanted to do in his head, as if all of his kinks were on display to the raccoon before he even committed the act.

The raccoon put a foot on the snow leopard’s thigh as he helped himself on Darvy’s shoulder. “I think it’s time for you to get a real step up on your career, too, Cael. Take my offer. I’m sure our benevolent leader, the CEO, is going to be very open and receptive to your.. Promotional interview.”

The snow leopard growled into his gag, but soon transitioned into a submissive whimper when the raccoon held up a finger.

“That’s one.” Lucky said. “Embarass me in front of our friends again, chucklefuck, and I’m going to keep you locked up, torture your pathetically ticklish soles, and not stop until your balls implode. Fucking try me.”

The rabbit’s ears perked up instantly. His eyes were drawn to the snow leopard’s feet, which were at the time trapped in tight, leather boots. The rabbit imagined for a moment how they’d smell. It must be so unlike the cologne that the snow leopard wore on a daily basis. Cael gulped.

“So, Cael? I take it you’re in.” The raccoon patted the snow leopard’s head, who stood up and carried the smaller creature on his shoulder, just like a good boy would. “Come, then. Follow me. I’ve got a very special, very freaky thing planned – and from the looks of that bulge in his pants, wolf-boy is eager to get started, too!”

Patreon Exclusive: September 2025 I

Soles Owned, Twice Over

By KinkSaber

“If there are no further questions, class is dismissed.” The fire dragon announced as he pushed his slipped glasses back up his nose. “Don’t forget, your 10 page essay is due next week! Submission is online only. If you miss it, you better have a doctor’s note ready – college policy and all. It’s out of my hands, folks.”

As he expected, most if not all of his students immediately vacated the room. It was, after all, a 7AM class that nobody really wanted to be there for – including himself. And, of course, as expected, the coffee stall next to his class room was instantly met with a line of intellectual zombies who would not make their next lecture without an abundance of caffeine assistance.

“..Professor Ignis.” 

A voice surprised him. The fire dragon looked up to see a younger earth dragon by the lantern of his class. For a second, he felt a sudden stab in the depths of his soul, as if he should know this particular young earth dragon that he had never seen before.

“..Professor?” The earth dragon asked again when the fire dragon did not respond. There was something incredibly calming about this young earth dragon’s voice. Calming. Hypnotising. Enchanting, even. The fire dragon blinked, and the vision of the earth dragon’s face returned to him. Not in a hoodie and jeans, but a majestic prince, crowned by a golden circlet. He looked up to the earth dragon’s throne from the earth dragon’s feet.

Vivid, but it was too early for him to daydream. The fire dragon blinked again, and he was back in the lecture hall.

“Ah, yes. How can I help you?”

“Thought I lost you for a second there.” The earth dragon smirked. “I just wanted to ask if office hours are available later today. I have some questions about the course but I have another class I need to get to.”

“I mean, it’s the first day of a new semester.” The fire dragon was bemused. “But sure. I’ll be in my room for lunch, and after that I’m free until 3PM today, so you can drop by any time.”

“Thanks!” The earth dragon said enthusiastically. “I’ll catch you later, then!”

The fire dragon phased out for another half a moment. “Wait. What did you say your name was again?” 

He looked up, but it was too late. The room was already empty – and the smell of coffee was alluring to him, too.

—

Punctuality was a thing rarely seen in first year freshmens, so he was especially pleased when he saw the same earth dragon through the glass window of his door half past noon. He had just filled his stomach with some very yummy soup, and with his belly warmed, the fire dragon was ready to take on the second half of the first day of school.

“Professor Ignis.” The earth dragon greeted him politely, in a manner that seemed beyond his years. “Thank you for making time for me. I can’t tell you how excited I am to be in your class this year!”

“Calm down, it’s only Introduction to Arcane Magic.” The dragon laughed. “I’ll have you know that buttering me up won’t help with your grades. My teaching assistants will mark all of your term papers. I’m sorry. I didn’t catch your name earlier.”

“My name is Terrasque.” The earth dragon said with a commanding tone. It was said with enough aura and weight that it stunned the fire dragon momentarily, although the fire dragon did not know why. “Terrasque Evergreen.”

“So, Mister Evergreen – what do you expect to get out of my class – and from Gaia Arcane Polytechnic?” The fire dragon asked, as if he was on autopilot. There was something about the earth dragon that wasn’t right. Something that his gut knew. No, not his gut. Not his phone. His soul knew something was wrong, but he couldn’t recall. Evergreen. Did he know anyone named Evergreen?

He had never offended anybody. He was a beloved professor for years. He had never gone out of his way to harm anyone. He had always offered to help every student who struggled, and the ones who had failed his class, he could count on a single hand. There shouldn’t be anyone who bore a grudge against him – so then why did he feel so out of place? The fire dragon’s focus waned as the moon in the sky.

“I just knew I had to get into your class. I’m a magic nerd, after all. Well, about your class – I did have a couple of questions.” The earth dragon sidestepped quickly. “But before that, I wanted to know – is it customary for Gaia Arcane Polytech to have such hot beefcake daddies for professors, or is it just you?” 

The sudden comment caught the fire dragon by surprise, and he fumbled. “That – uh, that is – that is not exactly – thank you, but that’s hardly, hardly appropriate, now, is it?”

The earth dragon smirked in a way like he knew exactly how to mess with the fire dragon.

“I guess it’s just you. Well, I suppose you’ve always looked good, haven’t you? A real feast for the eyes.” The young earth dragon said. His attitude and demeanor became more cocky, more conceited by the second. The fire dragon was dumbfounded. Not once in his long career had a student made a move on him like this, nor moved so fast. It was as if time was a very precious thing to Terrasque, and the earth dragon did not care to waste a second of it.

“I’m sorry, Mister Evergreen – but this is highly inappropriate conduct between a professor and his student.” The fire dragon tried hard to find his grounding, but what he discovered was that the rug had been pulled from under him again and again. Before he finished speaking, the earth dragon had removed the sandal from his foot and flopped it on his wooden desk. The fire dragon’s eyes glued to the surface. He breathed naturally, but even that was enough to catch the whiff of the earth dragon’s foot sweat, which had baked into the leather insole over many, many years. Salty. Musky. Sweaty to a fault. Full of youth and vigor. There was a nuttiness that he could not explain; and a scent of berries, leaf, and grass. It smelled like the forest after a rainy day. The fire dragon felt a dangerous shiver run up his spine and his groin burned hot.

“What’s the matter? You love the scent of my feet, don’t you?” The earth dragon said with confidence that he didn’t need anything to back up. “Push your face in and take a real breath.”

The fire dragon didn’t know what he was doing. As soon as he received permission from the earth dragon, his face plastered itself against the sweaty leather sole of the dragon’s sandal. His lungs filled itself with the sweaty scent of Terrasque’s feet, as if his body had been automated to do the young earth dragon’s bidding – and he made a desperate, pathetic whimper as the scent crept into the recesses of his mind. It was so familiar, and yet so new to his silly snoot. There was something inside him that said he should not only know the scent, but to respect it – worship it.

The fire dragon inhaled through his nose again and sighed with submissive content. Then, he snapped out of it, gasped, and pushed himself off the table with great force.

“What the hell was that?!” The fire dragon stomped to his feet. He quickly scanned the room for magic, but there wasn’t a single drop of mana in the air that was expelled from the earth dragon’s core. “What did you do?! This is not okay! This is not okay! The academy has very strict policies on – ”

“ -- On you being my personal foot slave?” The earth dragon interrupted. The fire dragon, upon the earth dragon’s voice, silenced himself, as if out of habit. As if out of reverence and deference. “Cut the crap. Strip off your shoes and present your soles. NOW.”

The fire dragon could not resist the commanding tone of the younger earth dragon. His ass fell right back into his chair, and as he lifted both feet onto the table, the fire dragon presented his soles on display with a good show of shoe strip, as demanded of him, and with two fingers he pinched the toe of his sock and slowly bared his fire dragon heels, then arches, and finally his dragonboy toes. For good measure, and as if by muscle memory, the fire dragon flexed his toes and spread them open, too. For his Master.

“Lick.” Terrasque spoke a simple word. It was his next command. The fire dragon could not resist, no matter how hard he tried. He watched in horror as his body acted on its own. His face lowered to where his feet were, and smashed into his own soft soles.

He never knew his feet felt so amazing on his own face. The way the smelled filled his head and the softness cradled his cheeks. Even though he thought he had callouses, the fire dragon was surprised to find that they were tender to the touch, and silky buttery smooth. He hesitated to follow the earth dragon’s demands, but his tongue crept out of his mouth like a rebellious snake, and began to lick both feet all the way from the heels to the toes that spread open as it neared.

The fire dragon couldn’t believe what was happening – or the favor of his own soles that filled his mouth. Sweaty, salty, but there was also a hidden sweetness and spicy aftertaste that lingered on his tongue.

“How did that taste?” The earth dragon asked with a grating smirk on his face. The fire dragon didn’t answer. He didn’t want to use any positive descriptions, but he also couldn’t just outright say it was gross. That it disgusted him, like any normal person would. He couldn’t. There was something inside him that told him it did not – and he didn’t like that part of him.

The silence did not irk Terrasque. In fact, it only made him feel giddy on the inside. The earth dragon knew exactly how to mess with the fire dragon. The defiance only fed into his sadism. His need to psychologically torture the one who deserved it so much.

“I asked a question, Professor.” The earth dragon repeated himself. “How did that taste?”

“..Fuck..!” The fire dragon felt his cheeks flush as he muttered under his breath. How was he so helpless before the earth dragon? How was he robbed of his ability to think, to feel, and to defend himself? None of this makes sense. He choked down his voice, but with a simple glare from Terrasque, he couldn’t help but open his mouth and offer the answer on a silver platter. “Good. My feet tasted good.”

“Heh. And do you know how I’m doing this, despite all your years of magic expertise?” The earth dragon asked once more.

“No.” The answer was simple and clean. “I don’t.”

“Because, Professor Ignis – your soul remembers. Your body doesn’t, your mind doesn’t, but your soul does.” The earth dragon said matter-of-factly. “In another world, in another time, in another life, Professor. You were a very, very bad boy. You’ve done some really bad things. You were cursed with immortality – to suffer for all eternity for your crimes.”

“That’s hogwash.” The fire dragon refused to believe the words that came from the earth dragon’s mouth. “You’re insane!”

“And yet, one eternity is not enough. You’ve taken so many lives, Professor Ignis, that one eternity is too light of a punishment. See, that’s why Mother Gaia and Father Oranos gave me this chance – this opportunity. I’m here to collect on a debt that you owe – so wake up now, Lavaetein. Wake up and pay your due. Wake up – and once again pledge your soles to be mine!”

—

Unwanted memories forced their way into the fire dragon’s brain. Unwanted, locked away, things that were supposed to be bleached out, but had long since permanently stained his soul with colors he did not care to look upon.

War. Death. Pestilence. Famine. He – Lavaetein – wasn’t just one horseman of the apocalypse. At the height of his reign he was all four, simultaneously the judge, jury, and executioner; respected and feared, but mostly feared, and largely loathed. Where he walked, only desolation followed – until the fateful day when the king of fire dragons was brought to his knees by tremendous sacrifices. 

Lavaetein recalled these memories as though he speed-read through the history books. As though millions of words were condensed into point form notes. Thousands upon thousands upon hundreds of thousands of years he was under the curse of the earth dragon, and the only one who kept him company was his equally immortal jailor – Terrasque; who through forbidden means gained a life as long and cursed as the fire dragon. The difference of their freedom was soon blurred when they both realized how trapped they were in the physical, mortal plane, forever out of reach of death.

The sudden recall slammed into Lavaetein like a heavy truck. It was enough to send him crashing down to the floor. His vision flashed with bright lights and his head pounded with a massive migraine that flooded his mind like a tsunami, and it was slow to recede.

The fire dragon pushed himself from the floor and choked on his own spit. His heart pounded as his entire body was filled to the brim with adrenaline, as if he just woke up from a frightening nightmare. His eyes were wide and his pupils dilated. He looked on in phenomenal fear as his mind registered the face of the young earth dragon who sat across the desk from him. He was paralyzed by Terrasque’s presence alone.

“So? Do you remember now, fuckbag?” The earth dragon kicked off his other sandal and rested both of his feet on the fire dragon’s desk. “How you entertained me for aeons. How the world ended with just the two of us.”

“It.. it can’t be.” The fire dragon whispered with a coarse voice. The memories returned, yes; but he was not the same dragon as the one in his memories. He was not the king of the fire dragons. He was Lavaetein Ignis, a simple arcane professor at the college. The fire dragon stood up with clenched fists. “That’s – that’s not me. That can’t be. It’s not possible!”

“Bow down before your king, fuckbag.” Terrasque said. The fire dragon fell to his knees, his forehead smacked into the wooden desk just inches away from the earth dragon’s feet. “See? It’s simple, isn’t it? How could I do that to you if your body and soul aren’t mine? I own you, fuckbag.”

“I don’t – I don’t understand!” The fire dragon cried out. There was too much information to process, and the persona that was hidden in his soul refused to come out. “I’m just a teacher! I’m no war lord! I – it – the histories don’t even line up! Whatever I saw just now is pure illusionary magic!”

He pleaded and bargained, but deep inside his head the fire dragon knew that his vision was true – even if it did not make sense. No. Not entirely correct. It made sense, even if he did not understand it. He tried his best to doubt everything the earth dragon said, but there was so little doubt to be had when he knew it in his heart that every word was true.

“You can ruminate while you worship me. Get back to your proper place, fuckbag.” The earth dragon crossed his feet at the ankles. In a moment, the fire dragon’s tongue was on his soles. Flatly. Broadly. Lavaetein pressed his entire tongue against the heels and inhaled through his mouth as he slurped it all the way to the top of the earth dragon’s toes. He inhaled with such enthusiasm that he once again choked – but that did not deter him from a second, third, and fourth lick. 

There was, however, something different. Something that the fire dragon couldn’t ignore. Something that was so right, but so wrong at the same time. The confusion on his face was clear as day, and the earth dragon chuckled at the sight of his dumbfounded servant.

“You’re not used to this, are you?”

“ – Licking feet? Who the hell would be?!” Professor Ignis’ side of the fire dragon protested, but even when he said that he quickly followed it up with another quick lap all around the earth dragon’s feet. Between his toes the tongue wormed. Something was off, and it wasn’t just how he worshipped the young earth dragon’s feet. He lapped it again and felt the tenderness in the pad of the earth dragon’s toes, and once more to feel the youthfulness in the arch of his sole.

It wasn’t how smooth the soles were. Terrasque took excellent care of his feet in both lifetimes. It wasn’t the taste. The sweet, tardy scent of berries were just as strong as ever, and the salty, sweatiness that suffocated Lavaetein made him feel just at home. He moved his head to lick upwards, and then he hung his mouth open, as if he waited for the toes to enter from above – and then it hit him.

“Having a body, fuckbag. You were nothing more than a mouth and a tongue waiting to be used; and now you got a whole ass body to pilot that mouth.” The earth dragon said. “At least you’re putting it to good use. You should be grateful for my grace.”

The earth dragon lifted a foot and smacked the fire dragon across the face. Not gently, but not rough. Playful, but hard enough for it to be a warning.

“Hey!” The fire dragon turned his head. Though his hand was free, he did not lift it to rub his face – as if he was so used to it when he was just a head.

“Unless you prefer that I fix your body the way it was.” The earth dragon threatened. “I rather like the chairs of this world – so comfortable, unlike the stiff, cold metals of the old one; but if you insist on being furniture for my ass, all you must do is ask.”

Lavaetein felt a chill throughout his entire body. Cold as ice. As if he had been dropped into subzero coolant. The frostiness bit into him, and reminded him all over again what it felt like that time his body was torn muscle from bone from blood.

“I thought not, fuckbag.” Terrasque chuckled with a wickedness in his voice. “My magic is millennia old. Yours have withered away, fuckbag. You may be a touch more adept than the average dragon in this world, but it is barely a drop in the ocean that is mine. Do you grasp what I’ve said?”

“..Yes.” The fire dragon replied. He understood that he had already lost the battle before it began. He bowed his head at the earth dragon’s feet and kissed it in submission. The moment he did, more memories flooded his head. Not memories of events, but rather memories of feelings, emotions, and his subservience to the earth dragon that he had once pledged himself to. His loyalty. His submission. His everything.

Ignis blinked several times and his old self returned. The king of the fire dragons, and not the meek professor that was born into that body. They were two, and they were one. They were the same. Synced, as the first and second half of the same book read in sequence. Lavaetein remembered all that he was and who he used to be.

He gasped sharply, then looked up to see his Master, then around him, and then he looked down to see his arms, body, and legs. His hand shook. The feeling of them was foreign. It had been so long. He looked up again and saw the slightest displeasure on the earth dragon’s face. He quickly bowed again, until his forehead touched the sole of the earth dragon’s feet.

“Master. It is good to see you again.” He spoke. “I hope you’ve been well.”

“Ah. So it did take some time for you to surface.” The earth dragon said with satisfaction. “So? How did you enjoy your forty-odd years of freedom from your Master?”

“Undeserved.” The fire dragon said with trained submissive indignation. “Not a day goes by that I feel whole without my one and only Master.”

“Liar.” The earth dragon laughed. “But you know I love how you’d kiss my ass just to kiss my feet. Tell me more of your pleasant lies, fuckbag.”

“It is the truth.” The fire dragon said without hesitation. It was hard to discern whether it was the truth or if the fire dragon had been beaten so thoroughly into submission that he believed the words from his mouth. “I crave to be under your soles, Master, which is my rightful place. I longed to feel your fingers and tongue upon my – upon the fire dragon soles that belong to you, Master. I longed to pleasure you with them. It has been far too long, Master. I wish you’d – I wish for you to enjoy them once again at – at your leisure.”

“How I’ve missed that filthy, sweet-nothing mouth on you, fuckbag. Now, strip for me, and let me inspect your new body.” The earth dragon commanded. 

The fire dragon tore the shirt and suit pants off of himself without care, without regard for consequences. His underwear was next. Shredded between his claws as he ripped it from his groin. In mere seconds, the fire dragon was as naked as the day he was born. 

Terrasque smiled and took a good, hard look. He spun his finger around, to which Lavaetein took to turn around slowly as his body was admired by the twenty-odd years old student.

“Flex.” The earth dragon demanded, and Lavaetein obeyed. He lifted his arms and tensed his body. His muscles bulged – as did his shaft when the earth dragon approached and caressed him all over. Dark verdant met with igneous crimson when their skin met. Terrasque traced his finger against the proud muscle on the fire dragon’s body and squeezed the arms wherever he damn well pleased. Firm and strong. Lavaetein did not neglect his physical training in this life, and it pleased him much. 

The earth dragon then leaned forward and kissed the fire dragon’s nipple. His tongue lapped against the top, and a moan escaped inelegantly from Lavaetein’s mouth.

“..Sensitive?” Terrasque asked.

“Very, Master.” Lavaetein bit the bottom of his lip to restrain himself, but a second lip made him cave immediately. A kiss from his Master’s lips, then a playful, devious bite. “Aaah..!”

“Hmph.”

Terrasque moved on with his hands at the fire dragon’s waist. The abs were spectacular. He had never seen Lavaetein’s naked body before, given that his own father had turned the ex-king of the fire dragons into an abomination. His abs, waist, and groin was nothing to sneer at. Then, of course, there was Lavaetein’s aroused shaft.

“You have not used this yet, have you?” The earth dragon said accusingly. “Do you have a wife and children?”

“N-no. Of course not, Master. This useless thing is yours.” The fire dragon said, but couldn’t help with the blush that spread across his cheeks. “I would not use it without your permission, Master.”

“..Liar.” The earth dragon took it between his fingers and gave it a taste. There was a violent and immediate twitch, and the fire dragon’s shaft became twice as stiff. The fire dragon, it seems, was at least eager enough. He went further and tapped the fire dragon’s leg. “Whatever. Lift.”

While he stood on one foot, Lavaetein lifted the other until his heel touched his butt, which was also the height of the earth dragon’s face when he knelt down. He felt the earth dragon push his nose between those toes and took a whiff. It was another familiar, calming sensation. The feeling of Terrasque’s greedy huffs between his toes made the fire dragon feel more relaxed than anything ever had.

Like the foot toy that he is.

“Hmph. A little rough, to be honest – you haven’t been taking care of these for me, fuckbag.”

“I’m sorry, Master.” The fire dragon gulped. He did not care to incur the earth dragon’s wrath. “I should have known better. I should have prepared them daily for you, even if I did not know it.”

“I do love how you make me cringe.” The earth dragon shuddered with pleasure. “Tell me more, fuckbag.”

“I – uh.” Lavaetein searched the memories in his new life. What could he possibly use to please his Master? He gathered himself, and began again. “I – I’m happy to report that – these fire dragon soles are – um.. Deathly ticklish. If it would please Master, perhaps – perhaps they could be punished with several hours of merciless tickling.”

“Hours?” Terrasque bursted out in laughter. “Hours? Hours are merely the blink of an eye for you and me, fuckbag. Try again.”

“Until I collapse, Master.” The fire dragon’s erection was unmistakable and unmissable now. He craved for his soles to be touched. “If it would please Master – perhaps these dragon soles can be tickle tortured while I scream for your amusement. Until I piss myself like the old fool that I am. Until I pass out from exhaustion. Until my lungs burn like fire. Scratched by Master’s hands and raked by brushes with toes tied back. Tickled until they’re pink and sweaty, just the way Master likes them. Until death would seem like a better alternative. And then, if it would please Master – to tickle them some more.”

The earth dragon shoved the fire dragon back into the chair, and when Lavaetein fell back, Terrasque brought his bare foot up and stomped on the fire dragon’s cock. Grinded it against the soft cushion of the seat where the fire dragon’s ass sat on. The fire dragon did not dare to move, but he couldn’t help that his thighs tightened and pushed together with great pleasure.

“Oh yeah? And why would I do that?” He asked with a cocky smirk on his face. “Tell me why, Lavaetein, you pathetic excuse of a dragon.”

“..Because – because they belong to you, Master.” The fire dragon strained to speak. It took all he had to focus on speaking. “Gag my mouth. Cage my cock. Blind my eyes and deafen my ears. I will gladly suffer any of your sadism to prove these soles exist only for your pleasure. I had pledged them to you once, and they are yours. Your toys. Your objects. Your fuckbags. Not mine, but yours. Always and forever.”

“Speak the pledge again.” Terrasque tipped the fire dragon’s chin upwards, until their eyes met. “Speak it with the tainted, inconsequential mana in your voice. Speak the eternal vow – and doom them to their demise all over again!”

“Yes, Master.” The fire dragon felt the heat of his fire dragon heritage rise within him. His body was hot, as was his blood and passion in servitude to his Master. He gathered the mana in his body and focused it on his throat, where he would concede his body and soul to the earth dragon with the chant that he had once spoken so long ago.

“I wholeheartedly relinquish these fire dragon soles to you, Master. I wholeheartedly surrender them to you. Of my own accord, I wholeheartedly forfeit the ownership of them to you.”

“Now, speak your name. Speak your name and give them to me!” The earth dragon breathed in the twinkle of magic that showered the two dragons as the spell sealed Lavaetein’s fate once again.

“For the name of my soul is Lavaetein, and I swear upon my name, and the name of Gaia the earth mother, and Oranos the sky father, and the name of my eternal Master Terrasque, be he emperor, prince, or Evergreen – that these fire dragon soles belong to you, in whole and in part, in name and in law, in this world or the next, now and forever; let no power in the heavens or the hells ever separate them from your ownership.”

Terrasque lifted the fire dragon’s head to his own, and planted a kiss on his old enemy’s lips. The heat of the fire dragon’s flames passed from Lavaetein’s chest into his mouth, and Terrasque gulped down the golden vow to seal the deed; and there it was done; their souls bound, intertwined in destiny and fate for all of their lifetimes, as much as the fire dragon’s soles will be bound for the many days and nights to come.

“Very good.” The earth dragon smacked his lips together and licked them. He tasted his own feet on them, just the way the fire dragon’s lips should be stained. The dragon stepped back, and tapped his bare foot on the floor. He nodded towards it. The fire dragon immediately fell to his knees, his lips pressed with a kiss on the top of each of Terrasque’s toes.

“What will you have me do first, Master?” The dragon said with a humbled voice.

“..Keep them nice and toasty for me, won’t you?” The earth dragon threw the sandals to the ground, where he slipped his feet into them. “I trust you remember how I like them roasted and helpless. Ah, yes. Let’s start with a stroll down memory lane – and then, there are so many new things we can try in this world. Isn’t that right, fuckbag?”

“Yes, Master.” The fire dragon moaned. His toes clenched with excitement, as his cock twitched. The thought of the return of his Master’s tongue was enough for a single drop of his milk to leak through the tip of his shaft. The days where his shaft still reigned with freedom was numbered, as were the days his soles were free of the torment of a brush.

He could not wait for his Master to actively own those fire dragon soles once more.

=The end=

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=

Patreon Exclusive: August 2025 I

Fitting Punishment for the Accident Prone

By KinkSaber

“What the hell are you doing here?!” The rabbit hissed under his breath. He felt as though the rug had been pulled from under him – to see the one person he did not expect at the grand corporate gala. His formal suit fitted him well, and it was one that he had specifically picked out for the occasion when he would finally be recognized for all of his achievements at work. A sudden wave of uneasiness washed over him. The wolf’s presence unnerved him.

Not that he was anxious or stressed about accepting the company accolades. No. But it’d seem that every single time he and the wolf were in close proximity, terrible luck followed him. First it was the flight and the ruined vacation; then it was the return flight; and then when he tried to make a peace offering with the wolf, his brand new car was side-swiped by the very same canine himself. While parked. No insurance, no nothing. Naturally, Cael forgave the wolf after weeks and weeks and weeks of compensation Chad had paid back with his body, but even then it was barely enough to quell the rabbit’s anger.

“I, uh. Work here?” The wolf replied sluggishly, as if it was the most silly question the rabbit could ask. Indeed, Chad sported a waiter’s outfit that was standard for the rest of the catering staff at the hotel that Cael’s company had rented out. The wolf stood straight up, shoulders back and chest up. When he wasn’t on his inadvertent warpath of ignorant and careless destruction, even Cael had to admit that Chad looked like the very model of professionalism.  “I mean, tonight, I do. Catering. You know how it is. Never know what tomorrow brings or who I’d serve.”

The wolf winked, then added under his breath in a low voice that only the rabbit heard. 

“Well, I mean, I know who I serve.”

Of course, the steady hand that the wolf had on the tray was more threatening to Cael than the pyramid of campaign glass that was the centerpiece of the room. A thousand terrible situations ran simulations in the rabbit’s head when he realized just what a minefield he had put himself into.

“Chad, buddy! I need you to stay very, very, VERY still.” The rabbit said sternly, with fire in his eyes that anger could not even begin to describe. He took a step back as cautiously as possible to distance himself from who he had dubbed the bullshit god of misfortune. “This is my only nice suit and, given our history, I want to keep it clean tonight!”

“I’ll have you know that I have never spilled a single drink on duty.” The wolf said pridefully. “Not once! Not even by accident!”

“It’s true.” The hyena that stood next to him smirked. “On duty, that is. As soon as he’s off the clock, it’s an entirely different story.”

“Don’t I know it!“ The rabbit pointed his finger at the wolf dramatically. “Stay six feet away from me at all times, Chad! Don’t you dare get a single inch closer!”

As if six feet were all it took to avoid the red threads of destiny.

The evening went on normally, with Cael jittery and paranoid. He kept his eyes on the wolf across the room, even as he sat in his designated seat in the winner’s circle. That’s what the table was called by the rest of the employees – the table situated next to the big wigs of the company at the front, just below the stage, so the recipients of the complementary but financially neutered awards could easily and quickly get in and out the spotlight for their presentations. 

Between stealing glances at Chad, the rabbit also kept his sight on any and everything that could go wrong. There was of course the champagne glass pyramid, which is the classic movie troupe; and then there were the stage lights that hung above the tables that lit up the front stage area. There were the myriads of wines and beers that the caterers carried with them, and then there was Chad, the biggest disaster of all time, who stood at the side with a big silly grin on his face. He was a ticking time bomb, only there wasn’t a clock face to tell the rabbit just how much more time he had before the entire thing got blown all the way into the stratosphere. 

“Nervous, Cael?” The raccoon who took a seat next to him asked. That was the new CTO of the company, who used to be the rabbit’s direct manager. Thanks to the raccoon’s promotion, though, the rabbit’s hard work was finally recognized and paid off. “Relax. These things are for show. Everyone knows it. You know it, I know it. Literally nobody will be paying attention to you; or they’ll be too drunk to care.”

“Hey Lucky.” The rabbit exhaled some of his tension away. “How’s the new position treating you? Haven’t seen your face much ever since you moved on up.”

“Okay, well, you’re next.” The raccoon laughed. “If you survive this night, which you will – that promotion is coming. I’m trying my damndest to put capable people in the right place in the technology department. If that unholy bitch Jane from HR gives you any grief at all, Cael, tell me. I’m going to make her life hell.”

“You are never going to let that go.” The rabbit smirked.

“Never. Fuck Jane from HR, and not in the good way.” The raccoon pulled out his phone. “Here. Look at this meme I made of her.”

“..This is way funnier when we did it on company time.” Cael burst out in laughter when he saw what the raccoon had to show him. “Oh my god. Send me this. I need this in my life.”

“ So, there’s no elegant way to ask this, but – do you want to tell me about that wolf you keep looking at, or should we wait until we’re on company time for that?“ The raccoon said with a sly grin. 

“Wolf – what, him?! No! Oh gods, no. It’s not what you think!” The rabbit quickly fumbled over his words. “It’s not!”

“I wasn’t thinking of anything.” The raccoon said, as if he caught the rabbit in a trap. “Nothing at all. I just want to know if there was something going on there – but now I know there is. Heh heh heh. Well? Cael, I know you’re not the kind of person who keeps your eyes absolutely glued to someone like that. So do you wanna spill, or do we need a couple glasses of wine or beer first?”

“No wine!” The rabbit quickly rejected. “Nuh uh. Not a single drop of red wine around me tonight, and especially not if that damn wolf comes with it!” 

“Uh huh.” The raccoon nodded.

“Look. All I’m saying is, whenever I see him, something bad happens, okay?” The rabbit puffed his cheeks. “He is like my personal bad luck charm and there ain’t enough luck in both my feet to counter him. Lawd-dy!”

“Sounds serious.” The raccoon teased. “Seriously like a crush. You’re cute, Cael. He’s cute. You two make a cute couple.”

“It’s not like that!” The rabbit blushed intensely as he remembered all the things that he and the wolf had done as ‘not a couple.’ “At all! See that pretentious pyramid of champagne glass? That’s a hundred percent going to come crashing down. One hundred percent, Lucky, you mark my words!”

“Well, I’m Lucky and I’ve always been Lucky.” The raccoon stuck out his tongue, proud of the pun that he rehearsed for so long and finally had a chance to use. “Maybe my luck will counter whatever bad luck he’s giving ya – and then you two can finally get together and deal with the sexual tension that’s fogging up the room.”

The rabbit lifted his arm and quickly took a whiff of himself. No. He didn’t smell like heat. Cael furrowed his brows at the giggling raccoon and glared. “That’s sexual harassment, Mr. Big time CTO!”

“What are you going to do about it, hmm? Tell Jane from HR?” The raccoon said it as if he dared the rabbit to do something about it.

“Fuck Jane from HR.”

Food soon arrived, but what he ate and what conversation followed, Cael forgot the moment he swallowed the morsels of food into his stomach. He couldn’t help but stare across the room to take note any time Chad appeared out of the door to the kitchens. Twice he almost bumped his elbow into the caterer behind him when he was focused on the wolf, and twice he narrowly avoided the fate of having red wine or tomato sauce spilled on him.

When the night found itself peacefully arriving at the awards ceremony, Cael still didn’t let up. He barely heard the names of the people who were called, or the awards they were given for their excellent service. The sound of hands clapping seemed to have been drowned out by the way the wolf moved his lips when he spoke with the hyena he met earlier. The two carnivorous predators smiled and chatted about themselves. What they were giggling about, the rabbit could only wonder.

“And, last, but not least – it is my immense pleasure as the CEO of this company to hand out this final award.” Cael looked to the stage briefly and recognized the snow leopard as Darvy Charmings. “Where others saw a challenge, he saw an opportunity. Where others saw a roadblock, he found a way through. What others called impossible, he made it possible. During our greatest time of need, he had pulled us through again and again. It’s no exaggeration to say that we would not be here tonight if he had not worked tirelessly to combat the illegal cyber attacks that targeted our company. Ladies and gentlemen, please put your hands together for our very own – Cael Bayleaf!”

When his name was called, the rabbit couldn’t help but look away from the wolf and turn his head towards the stage. He blinked for two seconds, then remembered that it was his turn to take the spotlight. Cael hopped off his chair and stepped hurriedly towards the stairs, where he greeted the snow leopard with a wide smile and reached to shake his hand. Then, from the corner of his eye, he saw the wolf.

Chad was much, much, much, much closer than where he was ten seconds ago. The wolf stood in the center of the room as he cheered and clapped with the rest of the partygoers. Cael’s eyes widened. Suddenly, everything moved in slow motions.

Chad, in all of his excitement, began to dramatically clap his hands – and arms – over the entirety of his head. “CAEL! WOO! CAEL! GO CAEL GO!” He screamed, as he jumped with unfiltered excitement. For a split second he lost awareness of the space around him, and as he landed on his toes, he also stomped on the toes of Lucky, the raccoon, who just happened to take the chance to scope out exactly who this wolf was that Cael was so obsessed with.

“YEOOWWW!!” Lucky yipped, his voice drowned out by the cheers of the people around him. He stumbled backwards by reflex, and just as he took a half step back he jumped into the wolf’s friend the hyena, who carried with him a tray of hot soup, who also lost his balance, which then promptly crashed into the table that sat the human resources team and splashed that bitch Jane from head to toe in sweet, delicious tomato red.

Cael thought his heart was going to stop when he saw the disaster that unfolded.

Jane screamed about her dress and stood up promptly, her chair kicked from under her and smashed into a smaller mammalian that rushed over to see if anyone was hurt, which knocked them backwards and, as a measure to avoid crushing the small creature, the larger, heavier, and much more destructive elephant who followed behind tripped and fell – and sent a loud thump of shockwave towards the pyramid of champagne glass.

Cael held his breath. His eyes darted towards the wolf, who was wide eyed and could only watch in horror as the hundreds of glasses shattered and spread all over the floor along with the bubbly champagne that it briefly held. The shards of glass and champagne sparkled in the air as they fell, until the entire thing came crashing down in a cascade.

As if on cue, the guests began to scatter away from the site of impact. Indignant, Jane screeched and dabbed herself with a napkin as she pushed people out of her way, and one of the unfortunate few was the sommelier, who had with him the large bottle of champagne that was to be popped on stage before the drinks were served. To get ready for the finale of the awards celebration, the cork had already been loosened, and was only superficially kept bottled up by the sommelier’s thumb. The moment Jane shoved him aside, the sommelier lost his balance for a moment, his thumb shifted, and the cork flew onto the stage and smacked Cael right between the eyes.

That was, of course, followed by the gush of white, foamy bubblies that splashed him wet and sticky from head to toe. Fate was cruel. The snow leopard who stood next to him didn’t catch a single drop of collateral damage.

Cael sighed with droopy eyes. Why did he expect anything different? How could it possibly get any worse than this?

That was, of course, answered in a flash. Quite literally; as the event photographer took the unfortunate timing of pressing the shutter to his camera to immortalize the moment forever – the rabbit, one hand still shaking that of the snow leopard, a red mark on his forehead, and of course soaked completely in champagne foam. 

—

“HEE HEE HEE HEE HEE – I’M SORR-REE-HEE-HEE HEE HEE!! SORRY! SORRY! I AM, I AM, I AM!” The wolf bellowed deeply as he twisted his body from side to side. That did nothing to free him from the bondage that the rabbit had put him into this time. His arms were tied to the bed posts and his feet were tied together, pulled towards the end of the bed. His body formed a Y shape, and the rabbit sat on his legs.

“NOT SORRY ENOUGH!” The rabbit snapped back as he scrubbed the wolf’s toes as much as he wanted – with an electric tooth brush. There was no teasing, no foreplay, and definitely no warming up this time. Cael was filled with pure rage as the most important celebration of his work had been ruined.

“BUT I AAA-HAHH-HAHH-HAHH AMMM!!” The rabbit scrubbed harder. His own thumb pushed against the handle of the toothbrush and forced the vibrating bristles to dig into the toe pads and between the wolf’s toes. He reached for another with his free hand. With the wolf’s big toes tied together they had nowhere to go and nothing to hide behind. The more he struggled against the bondage the more helpless Chad felt under the rabbit’s domineering demeanor; and the helplessness made him feel more and more sensitive all over.

Chad scrunched his toes and heaved with hysteria as the rabbit forced the bristled brush heads between his digits, and the harder he laughed the more it drove the rabbit to punish him more. The wolf knew he deserved everything Cael had to dish out, and in truth he couldn’t deny he enjoyed the vast majority of it – but he was also not the idiot that the rabbit believed him to be; Chad did his damned best to contain just how much he loved being under the rabbit’s vengeful wrath, but as the seconds ticked by it his cock had become harder than it ever had been, and it proved impossible to conceal how aroused he was as his toe pads were brushed continuously until they had turned from a pale creamy shade to a blushy pink. 

Even when the rabbit’s forearms began to burn with tiredness Cael did not stop. Instead he dropped the toothbrushes in favor of his fingers and scratched against the wolf’s soft soles. He ravaged them as he pleased, and there was a particular delight in feeling Chad’s warm feet against the tip of his fingers. The way the wolf’s feet jerked back with each ticklish scratch made the experience more real and more alive for the rabbit; and so even when Chad’s initially hysterical laughter became more of a manageable food of giggles, the rabbit was still content with the way he dished out the punishment.

It wasn’t until Chad made the mistake of buckling his hip, even subconsciously, against the rabbit’s butt, that Cael caught on to how erect and aroused the wolf had been. He was mad, but even Cael had to admit that the wolf had shown plenty of self restraint compared to the previous tickle sessions that he had put the wolf under. The sensitive cock pressed briefly against the rabbit’s buttcheeks, and the wolf inadvertently moaned with the sudden induction of pleasure that inhibited his self control.

“Damn horny wolf..!” The rabbit hissed. He felt his cheeks flush and his heart palpitate. The adrenaline was still fresh in his veins and Cael still felt the dizzy rush of anger in his head. “You’re not supposed to enjoy this!”

“B’uhhah-hah-hah-hah-aah Cael! Caeeeel!” Chad whined, his mouth still full of the giggles that kept on pouring out without end in sight. “It fee-hee-ls good! I can’t help it! It feels goo-good!”

When he sat on top of the wolf, it was easy to feel when Chad shuddered with pleasure. Those sensitive feet that loved to be tickled and teased and tormented and, in so many cases, abused to the rabbit’s content. The more intense, the more the wolf was into it – and don’t Cael know it well. No matter how ‘in charge’ he was between him and the wolf, it seemed that the rabbit could never really have a win.

He gave the wolf a slap against the side of his thighs. The crisp smack echoed in the room and snapped the wolf out of his tickle daze. Chad didn’t hate that Cael got rough from time to time. In fact, he much preferred it. When the rabbit was off the rails one way or another, it was nothing but tender spice.

“Pfft.” The wolf stuck out his tongue and blew a raspberry. “It’s true. I mean, Cael – Master Cael, this is all your fault!”

“Excuse me?!” The rabbit spun himself around and flicked the tip of the wolf’s cock with his finger. “The gall! You ruined my award ceremony!”

“And you ruined my cock!” The wolf said shamelessly. “I can’t even touch myself without thinking of you. Of your scent! Can’t get a half decent orgasm until I have my feet tickled now, no matter how hard I try!”

The rabbit’s blush burned even hotter. The wolf had no tact, but what he said rang true – and that made the rabbit feel conflicted. Angry and aroused, both equally intense in his mind and his heart.

“You.. you.. You!!” Cael sputtered. 

“And it’s your fault my feet are ruined, too!” The wolf pushed. “So you need to take responsibility for it!”

“What’s that supposed to mean!” The rabbit grabbed the wolf’s cock and gave it a good jerk. To show that he was in charge, of course – but the way the wolf moaned and the way that shaft twitched in his hand made it all the more confusing.

“Well, like you said!” Chad recounted, with seductive, bedroom eyes. “You told me to put lotion on them, so I did – every morning and every night. Replaced my wardrobe with moisturizing socks. Bought new gel insoles to keep them soft.”

“Grrr..!” It was the rabbit’s turn to get an erection between his legs. Even though they’ve seen each other's bodies many times, he still felt embarrassed when the wolf so easily made him stiff. 

“..Put on an extra blanket at night to keep them sweaty for you, too.” The wolf added. “I knew how much you liked them that way, so every Friday night when I went to bed I’d wrap them up in an extra blanket to keep them all hot and sweaty and marinate overnight so they’d be ready and tasty for you when you came over. I’m such a good boy for Master Cael, aren’t I?”

“Good boys don’t destroy an entire company dinner event!” The rabbit poked his finger into the wolf’s chest. Chad really, really liked it when Cael took charge, especially when there was a rush of danger and realness to it. He just needed to dangle a little more bait to send Cael into a frenzy. “And you’re enjoying your punishment way too much!”

“Then maybe you should do what makes you happy instead of what makes me happy, Master Cael.” The wolf scrunched his toes. Even without looking at them directly, the rabbit knew what the wolf just did – from the simply tense and untensed muscle movement in the legs that he sat on. “Go on. They’re all yours. All yours!”

“You’re a real brat, you know that!” The rabbit’s ears were practically whistling from the steam that escaped his head. He had to really teach the wolf a lesson.

Cael reached for the wolf’s discarded socks and balled it up. Even without bringing them to his nose he smelled just how strong they were. They had left the wolf’s feet an hour ago, and yet the wolf’s musky scent still lingered on them as if they had been freshly peeled. It wasn’t a bad scent. Chad always had a bit of a salty whiff to him, but the wolf kept himself impeccably clean, so there was no grossness to it. The rabbit rather liked it, too, and he snapped himself out of that pseudo hypnotism to do what he set out to – to stuff the balled sock into the wolf’s open, waiting maw, as if Chad had read his mind.

The rabbit then tore a long stripe of duct tape from the roll and wrapped it around the wolf’s snout before he took one of the wolf’s discarded shoes and hooked the opening over Chad’s nose. The wolf instantly took a deep breath of the scent and sighed with glee. Cael wasn’t the only one who enjoyed the scent of those well worn shoes – Chad did, too. At least, he had learned to love his own musky, sweaty feet; it was a lesson taught by the rabbit, after all.

With the wolf gagged and made even more pacified than he already was, the rabbit decided to take Chad’s advice – to enjoy himself with the wolf’s body.

Cael laid himself next to the wolf’s feet on the large bed and rather than the intense tickling that he had inflicted on them, the rabbit pushed his nose against the wolf’s sweaty soles and nuzzled them as he allowed his senses to indulge in the present experience. He took small whiffs of Chad’s soles and gave slow, loving licks against the arches and insteps of the wolf’s feet. His cheeks pushed against the softness of the balls and pads and he rubbed against them as much as he wanted. Chad didn’t lie – his feet felt much softer than the first two times they had run into each other, at least, with the constant attention and new nightly routine that the wolf had kept up. 

Cael didn’t even remember when the subject was brought up. He was pretty certain he didn’t order the wolf to lotion his soles for his sake. Was it a passing comment? Or perhaps it was a time when they spoke casually about skin care routines? Not that they had much to talk about other than the wolf’s path of rampant destruction against the rabbit’s property. There must have been a text in the early days that Cael mentioned about the lotion thing, and Chad took the initiative to follow.

The memory faded and Cael was reminded once again why he was there that night – not three hours before, Chad had ruined the dinner event.

The rabbit huffed, then Cael became more daring. The rabbit opened his mouth and bit into the wolf’s thick, meaty heel.

“MMMMMPH!!” The wolf yelled into the sock gag. Not in distress, just surprised.

“..Good!” The rabbit snapped back. “You’re going to be my chew toy, you hear me? That’s the least you can do – and you better really scream!”

Cael expected a whimper or some sort of signal from the wolf to beg him not to, but when he saw that Chad had only nodded, he was somewhat relieved that the wolf didn’t mind it. He opened his mouth and bit into the heel again – slightly off center this time. The wolf’s foot flesh felt amazing between his teeth, and so Cael grinded his teeth together with some jaw strength and bit again.

“MMMMMMMMMMMMPH!”

Cael let his teeth sink into the sole all the way up, from the heels, up the blade of the feet, then took each toe into his mouth and punished them individually with a good nip. He bit hard enough to leak a brief mark on the skin, but nowhere near enough to break it. It was a good snack and a good stress ball for his maw. When he got to the big toe, however, he gave it just an extra pinch and held it for several seconds longer. Chad did as he was told and didn’t hold anything back – not that the meek rabbit could really hurt him or anything; but Chad figured that Cael deserved his revenge, and so he yelled, muffled, into the gag. Partially dramatic, and partially reflex – he knew the rabbit had mostly forgiven him by the time the nibbling was done and the licking had begun.

The gentle laps soon turned into hungry, eager licks as the rabbit used not just his tongue, but his lips to suckle on the tender flesh that still stung from his nibbles. The wolf cooed as the pain was slowly lapped away, but even more so he could himself erect the full time – even though the rougher nibble play. When the suckling turned to his toes, Chad couldn’t help but wiggle those digits in the rabbit’s maw. Even while the big toe was tied together, the others were free to dance and play with Cael’s tongue, and so the wolf’s mischievous side got the better of him, and he tried to wiggle them out of the rabbit’s mouth, despite how much he loved feeling them there.

The danger and the rush of egging the rabbit on seemed much more of a thrill to the wolf at times. When he saw the rabbit’s brow furrow from his defiance, the wolf couldn’t hide the grin that naturally appeared on his face. When he flexed his foot away from the rabbit’s grasp next, the twitch in the rabbit’s eye mirrored the aroused twitch of his hard, stiff cock. 

That, perhaps, was what made Chad such an asshole to begin with – he wanted to challenge the world and see if someone could tame his primordial wildness; to conquer the jungle and the king that ruled it. He was a brat and he deserved to be punished, and he dared someone bigger, badder, and stronger to put him in his place.

He never imagined it would be a rabbit half his size, with legs thinner than his forearms that kicked his ass all the way to Zebraska and back, or that he would be so enamored by the way that Cael did it.

He clenched his toes when he felt that familiar tingle in his crotch. He tensed the muscles in his hips and groin, and his body shook as he tried to buckle into the air. He was close. So close. He balled his fists and pulled his arms, until he had done it just a little too much, and snapped the cheap metal chains that were supposed to hold him back.

“..Mmmph!?” Chad exclaimed through the sweaty socks. With one arm freed, though, he couldn’t help but reach it downwards to touch himself.

“HEY!” The rabbit snapped, and threw himself over to grab the wolf’s wrist before Chad could touch himself. “I don’t recall giving you permission to do that!”

“HnnnmmmmmmMMmmmmmMMmmmmm!!” Chad whined. He wanted it so much.

“You’re such a bad boy!” Cael’s brows furrowed again, until his forehead was wrinkled. “You know what? I wasn’t going to use this on you, but now I see I don’t really have a choice!“

Cael hopped off the bed and rummaged through his bag until he returned with something hidden in his hand. “Now close your eyes and don’t you dare peek!” He commanded.

Chad followed the instructions to the letter and squeezed them shut. He felt the rabbit toy with his cock. He wanted to sneak a peek, but even he knew that he shouldn’t push all of the rabbit’s buttons at the same time, so he waited, as did Cael – until the wolf’s shaft became softened and easier to handle.

Then, Cael took the chance and slipped the titanium alloy cage over the wolf’s cock and locked it in place. The cold metal made the wolf gasp and suck in a breath of his own sweaty socks, the very same scent that aroused him – except this time, his cock pressed against the small cage that trapped him and refused him an erection.

“Mrrrhh??” Chad opened his eyes to see his huge cock now neutralized by the rabbit’s disciplinary toy. He shook his head from side to side, but in his mind he found this hotter than anything else he had ever experienced in his life. All of his freedom to touch himself had been stripped away from him in mere moments. The cock that he would play with so often was now completely out of reach to him.

“And I’m not taking it off until you learn to behave, you brat!” The rabbit said with stern firmness. That voice of authority made the wolf whine harder, when his cock ached to be touched.

The rabbit returned his attention to the wolf’s toes and licked between them, then laid upon them kisses after kisses to show how much he enjoyed the sound of the wolf’s desperate whines as the background of his foot worship session. It was barely two in the morning, and it was Saturday. He had plenty of time to torment Chad.

Plenty of time to drag his tongue up from the nibbled heels, cross the smooth, ticklish arches, and between those suckable, tasty toes.

“I thought I’d keep you as my tickle toy, but I now understand you enjoy that too much for it to be an actual punishment.” The rabbit wetted his lips before he pushed his face into those tender arches and nuzzled. He kissed the heels, then bared his teeth and chewed on them again, to which the wolf cried into his gag.

Even with one hand free, he could barely touch himself through the fully plated cock cage. He fiddled with it, pressed his thumb against the cool metallic surface, which soon warmed to his body temperature. There was a small opening for him to relieve himself, and several smaller holes that the wolf assumed were used to let water out when he cleansed himself. Other than that, though, just about the entirety of his cock and balls were hidden inside the cramped iron maiden.

His fingers found a dial, and he mindlessly spun it, as if it was a fiddle toy.

“Ah-ah-ah. I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” It was Cael’s turn to smirk. “That’s a number lock, and you only ever get three tries to open it. Get it wrong three times and it’s on there permanently. Of course, you can go to the hospital and get it sawed off, but you don’t want to show this to anyone else, do you?”

The wolf shook his head, but he was so turned on now that his cock was under the rabbit’s control that he barely registered what the words that came out of Cael’s mouth even meant.

“If and when you’re a good boy, I will give you the privilege of cumming.” Cael said, then inserted the wolf’s big toes into his mouth and suckled on them like candy. The wolf’s fist tensed. He reached for the next best thing – his asshole – and rubbed the rim of it. It was when he heard Cael’s displeasure that he withdrew his hand with a saddened, dejected whine.

“Now, you better spread these toes for me, Chad. I’m going to spend the whole weekend with ‘em and suck on them until all the flavor is gone, and then I’m going to suck on them some more just for fun. When I decide I’m done, I’m going to rake my brushes all over them until you howl at the moon like a bitch in heat, you understand me?”

The wolf gulped. It was hard to take the rabbit’s threat ‘seriously’ when he was so turned on – and he did want the rabbit to scrub his soles until his mind turned to putty while he inhaled the scent of his own sweat marinated shoes.

Even with his big toes tied together, it was eager to see how much the wolf wanted to pleasure the rabbit by how widely he fanned his toes out, just as his master demanded.

“Oh, and just so we’re on the same page, Chad.” The rabbit lapped between the wolf’s digits and swallowed the salty, delicious flavor. “These feet? They’re for my pleasure now. Not yours. Not anymore. So you better get used to it. And that cock? That’s my toy now, and it’s not gonna be played with unless I want it to be. So until further notice, I’m downgrading you from my tickle pet to my personal foot cuck.”

If he wasn’t caged, the wolf might have just creamed himself right then and there.

=The end=

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Patreon Exclusive: July 2025 I

Outlandish Demands and Ticklish Reprimands

By KinkSaber

“Big C.” The raccoon answered his phone. “What can I do for you today?”

“Seems like you’re the Big C now, Lucky.” Chester replied playfully. “Mister Castor. Mister big shot. Mister Junior CTO.”

“Pfft. You know I’m not about that.” Lucky chuckled as he toyed with a thin metal key between his thumb and index finger. “So? You need someone to come golfing or what? You know I don’t care for golf, either. I have so much work to do today.”

“Ha ha. Very funny, Lucky. I’m calling about those documents I needed you to sign. The ones where you have to approve the budget for three new hires, remember? Gosh. You push all the administrative work on me and couldn’t even be arsed with a signature. Jane in HR needs them by the end of day if we’re going to move forward with the candidates.”

“Well then Jane can wait until the end of day, can’t she?”

“You sure know how to hold a grudge.” Chester sighed. “You know she’s going to be pissed if you don’t get it done soon.”

“Oh, yeah. Definitely. Mmhm. I overheard her saying something about a concert.” The raccoon rubbed the teeth of the key against his lips and felt the way they prickled against his tender skin. He couldn’t help but smile when he saw the desperate look on Darvy’s face as the snow leopard whimpered. “I’m not a monster, Big C. I wouldn’t deny her the joy of seeing her idol in person. But man, that’s going to suck on her performance review, you know? If she doesn’t get it done by today. Business needs and all that. Team player and all that. Circle back to the action item deliverable hotdesking micromanager and all that.”

“That’s not how you use those terms.” The raccoon felt Chester roll his eyes on the other side of the conversation. “Please just get those papers signed, Lucky. You can have your petty office drama next month at the company dinner, when you get to sit at the big boys table and she doesn’t. Charmings already lit a fire under my ass to fill your old role. I don’t even know how you managed to do the job of three people by yourself.”

“I’m sure he can wait until after our meeting, Big C. Speaking of which, I gotta go. Can’t have the billionaire CEO waiting on some poor peasant like me now, can we? Ciao!” The raccoon smirked as he hung up the phone, and then looked up from his desk to see the very same CEO he spoke of tussled up on his new coffee table.

“Hngg..! Lucky..!” The snow leopard growled with frustration. Darvy jerked as he felt a sudden spike of intensity from the vibrating ring around his cock. His face was flushed, and there was clearly a scent of lust in his pheromones. Unfortunately for the snow leopard, he had, in fact, not been a good boy. Not for quite a while. The raccoon hadn’t been pleased with his behavior, and the cage around his cock had only been removed for several minutes over the last three weeks. Mainly for maintenance, but also the raccoon took the chance to install a wireless vibrating cock ring that he could activate any time he wanted. As punishment, of course, and not pleasure.

“Haven’t we been over this, Prince Charmings?” The raccoon chuckled and dropped the key in his drawer. It had not yet been closed. There was still a chance in the snow leopard’s mind. “It’s Master or Sir now. Or maybe you just love being cucked out of your cumming privileges that you crave staying in that cage for another week. Oh, hell, for the fun of it, why don’t we make it a full month, hmm?”

“Noo!! Please! I’m sorry! I’m sorry! Master Lucky, Sir!” The sudden change in the snow leopard’s attitude thrilled the raccoon. One minute he was a cold, calculating capitalist machine, the next he was reduced to a whimpering goon who couldn’t think of anything but for a way to please his Master, all for the privilege of an orgasm. An orgasm that he must earn.

Yes. Thrilled and excited the raccoon to no end.

Lucky was more than fair, even if he did claim so himself. He had always given the snow leopard three chances to earn his weekly allocated orgasm. The first week Darvy was uncooperative. The snow leopard thought he could throw his weight around. His weight and cash. Cash, mostly. That was a strike. When he didn’t like the warning the raccoon gave, he pushed Lucky down and tried to give his Master a blowjob. Strike two, easily. It wasn’t about what he wanted. That was the part that the snow leopard didn’t understand. Darvy was so sure of himself that he could blow the raccoon to get some brownie points. The last strike came when Darvy cussed at the raccoon when he had been tickled for barely more than an hour. That was also when he earned the rubber ball gag.

Week two and three went similarly. It took three weeks in total for the snow leopard to learn to not talk back to the raccoon, or talk without being spoken to. It was a hard habit for Darvy to break, seeing as the snow leopard was so used to talking over anyone he deemed inferior – and he did deem the raccoon inferior. If only it weren’t for that titanium cock cage he had been locked in. The snow leopard fumed. His work performance clearly tanked, but he held it together long enough for week four, which was where he found himself now.

Lucky’s new office was practically designed to humiliate Darvy.

Floor to ceiling windows behind the raccoon’s desk, which thankfully for Darvy, was currently covered by blackout curtains. The coffee table was in the center of the room, with a couch on either side to frame the spot that Darvy knew he would spend quite a lot of time in. The coffee table itself didn’t look fancy, but in reality was custom built to handle the snow leopard’s weight, and was made of sturdy hardwood that would easily keep the snow leopard’s limbs bound to its wooden legs.

There Lucky sat, on his fancy ergonomic chair at his desk, and any time he looked up from the table he saw the half nude Darvy hogtied on the coffee table with those snow white soles on display.

The door was locked. The room was sound proof. He could do anything he wanted to Darvy, and nobody would hear them. Not that there was anyone else to hear them on that executive floor of the building. The schedule had been cleared and Darvy’s secretary had been given the rest of that Friday afternoon off, just as Lucky planned.

“I’m surprised, Darvy, that you haven’t found someone to cut the cage off for you. Can’t be that hard to buy silence from a locksmith around these parts – oh, wait. Didn’t you just raise the rent by thirty percent for all your mall tenants? Man, they must be pissed.” The raccoon chuckled. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you love being under my paws for a change.”

“Y-you’ll just hold the server hostage again.” The snow leopard instantly came up with an excuse, with his face flushed, as if he wasn’t enjoying being treated like that. “O-or worst! I’m only doing this to keep you happy so you won’t do anything stupid, like cripple my company again!!”

“Well then, in that case, we can just end our session here.” The raccoon crossed his legs and leaned back into his chair. “I have a lot of work to do to keep your company un-crippled. Updates and back ups and maintenance. Speaking of which, if you recall, we’re partially upgrading our datacenter across town, so I’m going to have no time for you for two weeks, minimum.”

The snow leopard whimpered, but he caught himself and gritted his teeth.

“..I’d say three weeks, on the safe side.” The raccoon teased.

“No! That’s unfair!” Darvy finally broke his stubborn silence. “That’s so unfair!”

Not even an hour ago, the snow leopard was in the boardroom giving a speech about work ethics and future projects. He looked so serious, cold, and stoic then. The exact opposite of how he looked now. The raccoon grinned at the sight.

“Oh, and there’s that A.I. project you wanted me to get started on. Sheesh. Looks like you’re going to get that month of being caged you’re begging for.” Lucky loved to push the snow leopard’s buttons. Push. Push. Push.

“Damnit, LUCKY!” The snow leopard snapped. Darvy gasped and tried to backpedal when he realized what he had done. “No! No! Wait! I didn’t mean that! I didn’t! Sir. Sir! Master Lucky, please! I didn’t mean it! You know I didn’t mean it, right?”

The raccoon smirked. He didn’t hate the fact that Darvy was still so defiant. It only contributed to the fact that breaking the snow leopard every time was ever just as enjoyable as the first.

“That’s two strikes, Prince Charmings.” Lucky said with an annoying glee in his voice. He looked at the screen, where he already had a preliminary A.I. prototype ready to go. Charmings didn’t really need to know about the progress he made, not for a week or two anyway, but a fun idea just popped into his head. “You know, Darvy. You’re right. It’s not fair. You come up with some half assed trend-chasing business plan about adding a language model to our systems, and I get to spend the next two weeks slaving over a keyboard so you can present my work to the shareholders. Company stocks go up, you’re worth another billion dollars. You get all the credit, and I get all the stress. Life’s unfair, isn’t it?”

“W-w-what are you going to do this time?” Darvy gulped. He knew when the raccoon was being genuine with his complaints. He could no longer afford to push his luck.

“I don’t know, to be honest.” The raccoon grinned to himself and executed the program. “But I bet your fantasy A.I. does. Let’s ask him, why don’t we? Hey ALBAN. How long do you think Darvy can stand being tickled on his feet on a Friday afternoon?”

—

“Who the hell is Alban!?” Darvy’s heart almost leaped out of his chest. For a second he thought his private time with the raccoon was being recorded or streamed to someone else on the other end of the world. Not that Lucky needed more blackmailing material.

“ALBAN.” Lucky repeated himself. “Automated Logic and Behavioral Analysis Nexus. That’s the A.I. you wanted me to build to analyse employee productivity, didn't you? Automatically pulls data from all digital employee input and tells you whether they’re dicking around on company time. Since you threw a language model license at me, this is the best I can do. Language models aren’t meant for this shit – but you won’t listen, so now I’ll have to show you.”

“..What the hell?” Darvy muttered.

“Hello, Lucky. It’s good to see you again.” A synthetic voice spoke up from the raccoon’s laptop as the program read the response aloud – not for Lucky’s benefit. He saw all the texts on the screen. The raccoon wanted Darvy to hear just how bad A.I.s were at what the snow leopard demanded for them to do. “Darvy may only last a couple of minutes. I suspect that Darvy’s most ticklish spots, like many people, are on his feet, so probably even less than that!”

“..I hate this A.I. already.” The snow leopard said plainly.

“Oh, but it gets better, Prince Charmings.” The raccoon giggled. “Hey ALBAN! What tool do you think Darvy is most ticklish to?”

“Hnnggg!!” The snow leopard blushed and grunted. “Come on, Luc – Master Lucky, Sir. That’s such a weird question to ask the A.I. – Wait! It’s not going to save that prompt to the database, right? Gods, you better clear out the history!”

“Most people are ticklish to feathers. When searched online, some other popular tools include hairbrushes, electric toothbrushes, or my personal favorite – fuzzy strings of yarn that you can thread between the toes!” The same voice answered after a moment of silence between the generated responses. “However, in some ancient Meerkat tribes, it is widely believed that writing on one’s soles warded off evil spirits, and laughter is the sound of these evil spirits being exorcised.”

“That can’t be right.” Lucky laughed. “Hey ALBAN. Tell me more about these evil spirits. Do you think Darvy might be possessed by an evil spirit?”

“The ancient Meerkat tribes believed that greed, wrath, pride, and lust are all spirits that possessed people when they acted as such. Darvy, the ticklish one, sounds like a lovely person, so I don’t believe Darvy would be possessed by such an evil spirit!”

“Ahah hah hah! Even the A.I. knows, Prince Charmings.” The raccoon was laughing so hard that he clutched his tummy now, all the while Darvy’s face burned hot with humiliation.

“Your A.I. is hallucinating!” The snow leopard said with puffed cheeks. “You know you’re going to have to fix this!”

“Yeah, but I’m going to have fun with this version. And so are you!” The raccoon clapped his hands together. “Hey ALBAN. Can you give me those instructions to ward off evil spirits?”

“No!” Darvy shouted. He could already guess where this was going. “Nooo! Nooo!! Don’t! Don’t! That’s – ”

“Unfair? Good.”

“According to the ancient Meerkat tribal customs, the ritual involves writing ‘evil spirits, be gone!’ on the possessed’s feet ten – ten – ten thousand times. It is best to use waterproof ink so it does not come off easily. Scholarly documents suggest that an oiled base ink would give you the best performance.”

“TEN THOUSAND TIMES!” Darvy cried out loud. “You’re going to kill me, Luc – Master Lucky, Sir.”

“I think you can handle that, Prince Charmings.” The raccoon smirked and picked up a pen from his pen holder. It was a cheap one that made a delightful clicking sound when he pressed on the button at the end. “After all, you enjoyed being tickled for hours and hours and hours. To the point where you beg to cum, don’t you? You love it.”

“..Hngg..!! But my feet are so sensitive now!” The snow leopard whined. “I send you video proof of me lotioning them every night, don’t I!”

“..Why do you think I want them to be sensitive? You’re not very smart for a billionaire CEO, are you?” The raccoon cackled as he approached the bound snow leopard. “Now, you better spread those toes. Unless, of course, you want to chicken out. Go on. Say the word, I’ll keep you locked up for a month. I have sooooo much work to do because that absolute demon of a boss I got couldn’t give me a break.”

Darvy gulped. He understood.Lucky wasn’t playing around. The snow leopard quietly and obediently spread his toes. His cock throbbed in that cage, as if his body craved to be put in his place. He felt the rush of adrenaline in his veins.

“Good boy.” The raccoon said. He clicked that pen one more time, then held it between his thumb and index finger. He rested the side of his palm against the snow leopard’s sole and aimed the tip of the pen by the base of those snow white toes. “Time to get messed up. Sing for me, Prince Charmings!”

As soon as those words left his mouth, the raccoon began to scribble. The cold metal tip of that pen touched the base of the snow leopard’s toes, and Darvy instantly let out a sharp giggle from his mouth. Lucky followed the program's dubious instructions and wrote exactly what was suggested to him by the hallucination, and he just had to say it outloud, too.

“Evil spirits.. Be gone!” The raccoon said it with a tone of sing-song in his voice. “Evil spirits.. Be gone! Be gone!”

“Ahah hah hah haaah! Ther-eer-’s no evil spirits! Maaa-ster Lucky! Maaawahha hah haah haah haahh!! Master Lucky! Stop! Stwa hwah hwah!” The snow leopard couldn’t control the flow of words between his brain and his mouth, as if each syllable was diverted from the tip of his tongue and replaced with involuntary laughter from the depth of his lungs. “Waah!! Ahah hah hah haaah! It tickles! It tickles! It tickles so much! That’s unfair! It’s unfair! Stwahah hah-hah stop!”

“Admit it. You love being my helpless tickle pet!” Lucky said happily. “You love it, don’t you? That’s why you keep your toes spread wide even when you’re screaming your brains out!”

“No! No I doh hoh hoh hon’t!” The snow leopard refused to confess to the thing that excited his cock beyond anything else in his entire life, as if he would cross a line that he could not return from if he did.

Regardless of his admission, though, Lucky wasn’t going to budge. He wrote the characters as neatly and as small as he could, just so he could fit more on those snow white soles. When the base of the snow leopard’s big toe had been scribbled on, he moved to the next.

“Mmhm. Evil spirits, be gone!”

“I’m not po-hoh hoh-hoh hoh-sessed!” The snow leopard couldn’t help but jerk his foot. He gasped when he realized that if he made Lucky mess up the writing, the raccoon would probably call strike three and deny him of the chance at orgasm this week, too. “Sorry! So-hoh-hoh-ry! Sorry Master Lucky I didn’t mean to moo-hoo-hoove!”

“Didn’t you hear what Alban said? Pretty sure you’re possessed by the evil spirit of greed.”

“That’s just a hallUU-HUU-HUU-CINATION OH GODS MASTER LUCKY NO DON’T NOT THERE!!”

Lucky wasn’t about to be predictable. He didn’t want Darvy to brace himself, and so he skipped the next toe and moved directly to a spot where he knew Darvy could not contain himself when touched – those tender arches that spasmed with the slightest touch.

“NOT THERE NOT THERE NOT THERE NOT MY ARCHES!! NOOH HOHH HOHH HOHHHH!! OH GODS IT TICKLES IT TICKLES IT TICKLES MASTER LUCKY PLEASE I’M GOING TO DIE!! I’M GOING TO DIE!! I’M GOING TO-WAHH HAHH HAHH HAHH HAHH!! AAH HAH HAH HAH HAHHHH!! HAHH HAHH HAHH!!”

The snow leopard couldn’t stop the hysterical laughter that burst from his mouth if he tried. Tears beaded from his eyes as he screamed himself red in the face. He didn’t understand how his feet were so ticklish and so incredibly sensitive after less than a month of daily lotioning that the raccoon had forced on him.

When he read about it in some of the raccoon’s favorite smut stories, he scoffed at it. When Lucky argued that the lotion would turn him into a screaming, helpless thing, he scoffed at it. When Lucky then presented to him a bottle of cheap skin cream that was from the discount bin at the local pharmacy, Darvy laughed and ridiculed the raccoon. Ah, yes. That was one of the strikes on week two, wasn’t it?

That was also when Lucky flicked his finger at the snow leopard’s caged cock and demanded a daily lotioning video to prove he kept it up. “Miss a day of lotion and I’ll add a week to the time.” The raccoon said. “Try me.”

It finally dawned on Darvy that some things are, in fact, not made up by the authors of the smut that Lucky loved to read. The magic and fantasy elements are just that – fantasy. He should have paid more attention to the part where the ticklish victim’s soles were bathed in creamy milk and turned into the most sensitive, helpless spots on their entire body. Turned tough guys in the stories into a tickle pet not so different from what he was to the raccoon.

The worst part of it? He liked it. He secretly, silently liked it. Liked the way it stripped the power from his hands. Liked the way the raccoon broke down the castle walls and made him absolutely defenseless. Made him the poor peasant’s tickle toy.

Darvy’s cock throbbed and twitched and ached and itched in its cage. The snow leopard let out several moans between laughter and he pressed his caged crotch against the coffee table. He grunted with frustration when he realized he would get no pleasure from that.

No. Not a single drop of pleasure from that. The only thing that excited and stimulated him was the ticklish abuse that the raccoon dished out on his feet. The snow leopard was so frustrated, so pent up from the weeks of nonstop torment that the raccoon would inflict upon his soles, only to be blue balled again and again.

Then again, the prospect of not being allowed to cum, to be so controlled – that thrilled him, too. In some ways, equally, if not more, arousing than jerking off to the thought of being under the raccoon’s paws.

“PWEASE! PWWWEE HEE HEE HEE HEEEASE! OH GODS! I CAN’T TAKE IT I CAN’T TAKE IT I CAN’T TAKE IT LUCKY LUCKY LUCKY MASTER LUCKY PWEASE PWEASE PWEASE LET ME CUM I NEED TO CUM I NEE-HEE-HEED TO CUMMMMM!!”

The snow leopard didn’t even realize that his pleas for the raccoon to stop tickling his poor sensitive soles had long since turned into pleas for the orgasm that he had been denied. The words seemed to flow from his brain to his mouth with the filter of his ego completely disabled. Darvy moaned lewdly as the raccoon continued to skip and write over every last inch of the bottom of his feet. He panted and gasped for air. He begged. He screamed with laughter. He begged like his life depended on it. He sweated into his fur. He begged some more.

“WAHAH HAH HAH HAHHHH!! MASTER LUC-KEE HEE HEE HEE!! EEEE HEE HEE HEE HEE!! HEEEE HEEE HEEE HEEEEEEE!!”

“If I take off your cage, Prince Charmings.” Lucky prodded. He wasn’t a monster, but he knew how to act like one. He didn’t want to just tickle torture the snow leopard. He understood the carrot and the stick very well. He was going to have to reward Darvy eventually, if he wanted to keep the snow leopard in line. After all, he couldn’t just motivate Darvy with nothing but punishments. “If. Big if. If I take it off and give you a little reward, you’re not going to do anything stupid, are you?”

“NOH HOH HOH HOH HOHH!! NOH I WOULDN’T! PLEASE MASTER LUCKY PLEASE!! I NEED IT NEED IT NEED IT!!”

Even when he got no pleasure from it, the snow leopard began to hump the coffee table as the sound of that titanium cage smacked against the wooden surface.

“I NEED IT! I NEED IT SO BAD PLEASE MASTER LUCKY SIR I’LL DO ANYTHING!! ANYTHING! ANYTHING!!”

“Hmph.” The raccoon reached into the snow leopard’s suit pants for the cage and unlocked it with the code that he memorized. The moment the mechanism clicked open, the snow leopard whimpered with relief. Lucky took the chance to roll the snow leopard to his side, which stopped Darvy from humping the table. The pleasure was not his to take, but for the raccoon to give when and if the raccoon decided.

“Please, please, please..!” The snow leopard’s voice shook as the raccoon took that shaft in his palm and gave it only a few supplementary strokes. It was instantly hard, stiff, and leaky. “Yes, yes, oh gods yes!”

“Shaddup, Prince Charmings.” The raccoon licked his lips. “Or that’s gonna be a third strike for you. I’m the one enjoying this, not you. You’re my toy, you got it?”

“Hnng..!” Darvy had never been made so powerless, to the point that just the thread alone was enough to make him comply. That, too, gave him a renewed sense of arousal.

The raccoon wetted his lips again as he ran his tongue over them, then he leaned forward and swallowed the snow leopard’s cock all the way into his throat, hungrily, as if he hadn’t had a single morsel of food for days. His tongue bullied the crown of the snow leopard’s cock as he licked the same spot again and again, while he used the fleshy insides of his lips to stroke and suckle on the snow leopard’s small, but firm shaft. Even when he shoved the entire thing into his mouth, the snow leopard’s cock didn’t come anywhere near the back of his throat. Cute. Small, but just the right size for him to treat like a popsicle.

For Darvy, it was much more intense than he could ever imagine.

The snow leopard’s eyes rolled to the back of his skull and he saw fireworks in the black void as his vision cut out. Snot and drool ran from his face as his whole body convulsed with pleasure. A deluge of ‘fuck, yes!’ and ‘oh gods’ flooded from his mouth, even when the raccoon had specifically forbidden him from speaking, between an unstoppable flow of lewd moans and cries for more.

Darvy couldn’t recall a time when his orgasms felt so powerful. His toes clenched and sprayed as he rode the high, and his hot milk spilled from the tip of his cock as the raccoon greedily lapped it all up from the source. The snow leopard’s body was still shaking when Lucky suckled the last drop from the tip and swallowed, and as the snow leopard gasped for air as if he had just ran a marathon, the raccoon simply wiped the corner of his mouth with the tip of his finger and then licked that clean, too.

“Happy now?” Lucky asked in a gentle voice.

“Mm. mmhm.” The snow leopard replied meekly. Darvy felt as if his entire body had been drained of energy. All he could do was stay as the mess that he was on the coffee table while the raccoon did whatever he wanted to his helpless body. The thought of that made his cock spring right back to life. Too late to hide it. The sudden twitch did not escape Lucky’s sight. They both stayed silent until the snow leopard caught his breath, and just when Darvy thought the raccoon was to free him, Lucky pushed the snow leopard right back down. “Wait. A second round? But – but I thought we were done, and I wanted to talk about ALBAN. Now that you have him up and running we can – ”

“You can shove it, Prince Charimgs.“ The raccoon quickly relocks the snow leopard’s cock cage over the aroused shaft. Darvy gasped at the return of the constraint. “YOU were done. I still need to have my fun – and I don’t care if you misbehave this time. Go on, scream your fucking lungs out – now that I know you turn into such a bitch in heat with just a month of chastity, I want to know how many months it’ll take before I drive you insane. But before that, I’m going to relief MY stress, and you’re going to learn to fucking love it.”

“No! Come on, be reasonable, Lucky – that was rough! That was really rough on me!” The snow leopard’s voice was full of fear and anxiety. Just the way the sadistic raccoon liked it. “Lucky. Lucky! Please! I’ll buy you a first class round trip ticket to wherever you like! I’ll give you two more weeks of vacation! I won’t make you work overtime on ALBAN! Trust me! Trust me once? Just this once? Lucky? Lucky?? Wait. Where did that brush come from? But I just came! Lucky I just came! I JUST CAME I’M SO SENSITIVE RIGHT NOW! No, gods no! Stay away from my feet I’ll die for real..!! No! Stay away from – STAY AWAY HANDS OFF!! NO NO NO NO NO!! NO- NOOHH HOH HOH HOH HOH NOT MY FEET NOT MY FEET NOT MY FEE-HEE HEE HEE HEET!!”

The raccoon smirked and lowered his pants. His turn for fun. First came the carrot, then the stick – or maybe they were both carrots for him.

“Scream for me, my little tickle pet. Scream for me! Eheh heh heh!”

=The end=

Patreon Exclusive: June 2025 II

A Wolf’s Sole Focus

By KinkSaber

The doorbell rang furiously. Whoever was at the door had zero patience. Chad almost tripped over himself to answer it. The pounding against the wooden door shook the frame it sat in, and the wolf was suddenly reminded of the time he was blackout drunk and knocked on the wrong door not that long ago, when he was on vacation.

“H-h-hi!” The wolf greeted as he swung the door open. Cael, just the guest he expected, but the rabbit seemed to be in a terrible mood. His face scowled and his brows were furrowed. A backpack was strapped casually over one shoulder while the rabbit’s other hand rested on his waist. “Uh – come on in! Can I offer you something to drink?”

“Buddy. Chad, buddy.” The rabbit forced himself to smile. “Yes, yes I would. I would love to get a drink. How about a margarita? Made with fresh lime and a touch of basil. And while you’re there, how about some nachos with chili and cheese? That sounds good, doesn’t it? And don’t forget to grab me an extra large, extra spicy pepperoni stick. You wouldn’t happen to have a box of those, would you?”

“..Whoa!” The wolf said with a big grin. “How’d you know that’s exactly what I got from the store earlier?”

The rabbit pushed the wolf down in the hall where he stood, kicked off his sandals, and stomped his big bunny paw on Chad’s stomach.

“Aa-ah!” Chad yelped. When he tried to pick himself up, the rabbit kept him down with his weight all focused on the balls of his foot, right against the center of the wolf’s mass. “C-Cael?”

“Because I saw you load your groceries, buddy. Then, not thirty minutes ago, I watched with my own two eyes while you swiped my new car with your shitbox. I thought, Oh, it’s just Chad. I’m sure he’ll do the right thing and leave his contact information when he scratches a stranger’s car, right. Right?“ The rabbit glared. Cold sweat ran down the wolf’s forehead and chills ran up his spine. “So tell me, big bad wolf, what did you do after that?”

“Uh – eh heh heh heh?!” The wolf grinned. His shoulders shrunk as he withdrew the arms towards his chest in a fetal position. Chad was speechless. He knew he fucked up big time. “I.. I thought I got away with it?”

When the veins on the rabbit’s forehead popped, the wolf knew that honesty was perhaps not the best policy. Not the worst. He could have lied, but he was certain that the rabbit would have gotten twice as mad if he did.

“Mmmfp!” The wolf moaned into the rabbit’s sole when Cael stomped it over his maw. Chad took a sniff and smelled the rabbit’s familiar scent. His cock got erect immediately, and it showed through his thin, sports pants.

Cael pushed his foot into the wolf’s face, then took a look at the wolf’s habitation. It was his first time there. He texted the wolf a week ago that he would drop by, get to know Chad a little better. Maybe give him the benefit of the doubt. Maybe the wolf was just an idiot. Maybe the wolf was a little stir crazy when he traveled. People don’t tend to be the best versions of themselves after a four hour flight delay, right? Benefit of the doubt.

The rabbit glared at the whimpering wolf, who seemed to enjoy his punishment a little too much. Scratch that. Way too much. Way too fucking much. The rabbit growled, and hopped on the wolf’s chest.

“Oompf!” Chad clenched his fist as he felt the smaller rabbit’s weight on him, but the way those rabbit soles pressed against his chest felt pretty damn good, too. He can still smell the slightly sweaty, slightly musky rabbit toes against the tip of his nose, where they were just at. He kind of missed the smell. He missed being put in his place.

The rabbit crossed his arms and sighed. The decade old, bargain bin IKEO brand furniture that sat on a faded area rug told him that there was no way Chad could afford to pay him the cash to fix the paint job.

“..Is now a good time to tell you I have no insurance?” The wolf said with foolish optimism in his head and a dumbass grin on his face. That quickly reignited the flames of fury in the rabbit’s mind.

“You asshole! My new car!” The rabbit smacked the wolf’s face with the fleshy sole of his paw. He did it pretty hard, but he could also tell that the wolf fucking loved it in his sick and twisted way. “And I bet you have no cash either, huh?”

“Guilty as charggbbbbubgbubb – !!” The wolf began to speak, but the rabbit instantly shoved his toes inside the wolf’s maw and he choked. He licked between the rabbit’s toes submissively, as if that alone made the whole thing better. Well, it made him feel better. The salty taste of the rabbit’s toe made the wolf pretty darn elated.

Cael huffed and puffed. It was as if Chad was his personal bad luck magnet. First the hotel, then the flight, and now his car. The rabbit balled up his fist and punched the palm of his other hand, then rubbed his knuckles.

“What am I going to do with you? Ugh..!” Cael muttered. He was mad. Furious, even. The blood inside his veins boiled. 

“Whatever you want, Cael. I’m all yours for the weekend!” The wolf licked his lips, and tasted a lingering scent of the rabbit foot on him. He said it so shamelessly that the rabbit gave pause to wonder if wolves are dumb by nature, or if Chad is just a special nutcase. 

“Read the room, idiot!” Steam practically escaped from Cael’s flustered face. The rabbit slammed the door and dragged Chad into his own living room.

—

“Four – I’m sorry!” Chad howled when the plastic ruler smacked against his sole.

“Louder! I can’t hear you!” The rabbit demanded.

The wolf was bound, upside down, with his ankles tied to the armrest of the chair that the rabbit sat in, and the rest of his body, save for his head, was stored under the seat. To either side of his face was the rabbit’s ginormous, plush feet, which occasionally prodded and jabbed his cheeks. That part he enjoyed. The other part where the rabbit was punishing his soles, not so much.

But then again, Chad knew he deserved it. It was the least he could suffer for the scratches against Cael’s car. He thought he got away with it, too, when he sped out of the parking lot and saw nobody approach in his rear mirror. He could have never guessed that Cael was the owner, nor that the rabbit stood by the large windows at the check out.

The ruler came down against the arch of his sole again.

“FIVE! I’M SORRY!” The wolf yelled. He grunted when the sting on the center of his sole lingered. His toes clenched and his foot flexed away as much as it could. He felt his heel push against the wooden armrest. Chad gasped for air and balled his fist together. 

At least this was one step up from having to pay for the damages, Chad thought. He didn’t have any spare cash. It took him years to save for the vacation he went on, and now that he’s back he’s right back to living paycheque to paycheque. Plus, Cael could really screw him over if he reported the hit and run – so really, at the end of the day, Cael gets whatever Cael wants and he won’t be in trouble with the law. Not this time, at least.

The next smack came across his other sole, which jerked Chad right out of his thoughts. He almost messed up the count. As the rabbit promised, and Chad fully believed him – mess up once and he’ll start again.

“Yi-ii-iip! SIX! I’M SORRY CAEL!”

“It’s going to be SIR for the weekend, you asshole!” The rabbit quickly smacked the wolf’s sole three times in succession. Before the wolf reacted to it, the rabbit continued. “That’s a freebie for me and doesn’t count! Now the next one does.”

The rabbit brought his arm into the air and whipped the wolf’s sole again. Although he was angry, and the wolf was fully justified in being punished, the rabbit didn’t go all out. He didn’t think he was hitting the wolf’s feet all that hard, but it was still pretty comical how the wolf was so reactive to every little touch, as if his feet were twice as sensitive as the first time they met at the hotel. The rabbit couldn’t help himself but give the wolf’s arches a couple of scratches with the tip of his fingers. Even without using his claws the wolf immediately bursted out in laughter, mixed in with a sort of silly whimper and incoherent mumbling.

“Yes – ppfft – SIR!”

At least the wolf was obedient. 

From his outward appearance one would never guess he was so submissive, but when Cael put his foot down – literally – Chad was little more than putty in his hands. The rabbit had a passing thought that if the wolf had money, he would most likely be easily scammed out of it by online findoms. 

Or, actually, maybe that’s why he’s broke.

The thought of that incensed the rabbit again. It reminded him of the car that the wolf scratched up.

Another whip against the wolf’s sole. Chad counted and apologized again, and the rabbit’s had enough of that, for now. Besides which, he was somewhere around ninety percent certain that the wolf was enjoying this ‘punishment’.

While the wolf was in that position, though, he might as well take advantage of it. The plastic ruler was dropped from his hands and carelessly discarded to the floor, and Chad’s sensitive, tenderized arches were the next target of his attention.

“Gods, I’m so pissed at you..!” Cael grumbled. “I’m going to tickle the hell outta you the whole weekend!”

“Heh heh heh..! Sorry, Cael – uh, sorry, SIR!” The wolf quickly corrected himself. The sly, mischievous grin on his face made the rabbit roll his eyes. Chad looked as if he wasn’t really that sorry, and Cael was now hellbent on personally making sure that the wolf was, in fact, apologetic. Deeply apologetic.

“You keep saying you’re sorry but it sounds like you’re more excited than anything else.” The rabbit called the wolf out. “Just how much do I have to tickle you for you to be really sorry, hmm?!”

“Well, I guess you’ll just need to find out for yourself!” The wolf wiggled his toes at the rabbit.

Chad looked so lovestruck and dumb, all at the same time, that the rabbit had trouble staying angry at the wolf. Cael’s face twitched in confusion while his brain short circuited for a moment. Even he wasn’t sure whether that was a threat or a promise of a good time from him to the wolf. He shook the thought out of his head and returned his attention to the wolf – his very own personal ticklish stress ball.

Cael would have begun much more gently had he been in a better mood, but he had already been soured, and so he skipped the playful tools that he bought with him. The feathers and the fuzzy strings that were more on the teasy side were out of the picture. He rummaged through his bag and pushed them aside until he found the brand new hair brush that he bought.

It was a pricey purchase. One that the rabbit would usually not splurge on. He found a local artist who handcrafted the handle out of wood, where stiff, coarse hair was glued onto it by hand. He tried it on himself the moment he got home, and the brush felt amazing against his hair. Cael noted that there were some longer bristles and some shorter, which contributed to an alternating sensation that felt heavenly against his scalp. The more he brushed himself, the more he was in love with it, and mildly regretted not getting two while he had the chance to. It was meant as a gift for the wolf – a sort of peace offering, really. 

“And.. I got something for you, too!” The rabbit grumbled. When the grin returned to the wolf’s face, the vein on the rabbit’s forehead popped. “You’re such a self centered jerk, Chad!”

The insult flew over the wolf’s head almost immediately. Chad was way more concerned about the brush that was in the rabbit’s hand. His heart pounded in his chest as he eagerly awaited for the sensation of those bristles gushing against his soles, like the rising tide. Cael delivered, and just as the wolf deserved to Chad bursted out in roaring laughter the moment the bristles made contact against the bottom of his feet.

His arches, specifically.

The stiff, coarse bristles raked against him mercilessly as the rabbit held firmly onto the handle of the brush. Up and down, up and down Cael scrubbed the wolf’s bound soles. At one point he even had to grab hold of Chad’s big toe and pull it back as the wolf’s feet struggled so much with the brush that absolutely antagonized his tender arches. The balls of his foot, too, suffered the same ticklish agony that Cael dished out, fuelled by anger and a taste for revenge. The rabbit only began to scrub faster when the wolf’s laughter sounded out of breath.

“Weheh heh heh heh! Wahah! Hah hah hah hah hah!! Ca – aah hah hah hah – elll! Wee hee hee! Wee-hee-ait! Ahah hah hah hah haaaah!!” The wolf blurted out as the scrubbing on his soles became wild and untamed. The wolf couldn’t get two words stringed together in his mind as the thought escaped from his brain. All he could do was laugh and beg with gibberish, mixed with the giggles that the rabbit forced from his lungs. “Wahah haaah haah haah!! Wwaaah hahh hahh hahh hahh!!”

Chad shook so much that the chair that Cael sat upon shifted. Not by too much, but enough that the rabbit gripped the armrest from the sudden jerk. He was still smaller than the wolf, and Chad was definitely stronger than he let Cael believe him to be. When the wolf threw his weight around, even carelessly, it was enough to shift the rabbit’s center of gravity, too.

But that only made Cael slightly more annoyed, rather than satisfied for the ticklish torment that he inflicted upon the wolf’s soles. He changed his point of attack. While his dominant right hand held onto the brush and scrubbed the wolf’s left sole, his left arm rested on the armrest and his hand was perfectly positioned to scratch the sensitive arches of the wolf’s right sole.

“Naww haww haww!! Naww haww haww-t at the same taa–hah hah hah hah-ime! Not both fee hee hee-t at the same time! Ca-el! Ca-el! Aaah hah hah hah!”

“I don’t know how you’re such a massive asshole and such a little tickle bitch, all at the same time!” The rabbit puffed his cheeks. His fingers moved even faster against the wolf’s large, sensitive, creamy sole. The unhinged, hysterical laughter finally calmed Cael down, even though it was at the cost of the wolf’s shattering sanity. The louder the wolf howled, the more relaxed Cael felt. At home. At peace. Some people liked the sound of rain and thunder, some people liked the sound of waterfalls. Cael? He would love nothing more than the screeches and yelps and the call for help on his white noise machine. Especially when it was Chad who was featured.

Cael would put his soft bunny paws all over that wolf’s face to really assert his dominance, but it would be such a shame to muffle out the whimpering cries and the hysterical laughter that poured from the wolf’s maw. Not that he had to be so extra – Chad was already a giggly mess with his soles under the rabbit’s hands, and whether he was aware of it or not, he looked nothing like the asshole that Cael had seen and knew him to be. 

“Really, really fascinating, Chaddo.” The rabbit mocked. “How a so-called alpha male like you is so easily reduced to a tickle pup.”

“Shaa-hahh hahh haahhh-dupp!” The wolf whined, and then let out another stream of laughter as his soles were tickled pink.

Cael hopped off the seat and turned around as he sat on the wolf’s face. He felt the wolf’s vibrating laughter between his legs, which was a really nice change to being thrown off the chair. With the wolf’s tickled toes in his face, Cael didn’t care to deny himself of the pleasure that the wolf owed him, and suckled on each of the wiggly digits while he used the brush on the arches of the wolf’s right sole, which had so far escaped the wrath of the torturous tool. The more he scraped and scrubbed the wolf’s silky arches, the more wildly the toes in his mouth wiggled – which turned Cael on more than anything else he had done so far. He loved the way those toes tried so desperately to escape from his maw, the way the wolf practically screamed with laughter into the gag that was the rabbit’s thick, juicy thighs – and of course, the way that Chad could in theory throw the rabbit off any damn time he wanted, but chose to stay under Cael’s thumbs just so he could be tickled out of his mind. All of that was erotic as hell.

Then, Cael ran his tongue over the wolf’s toes. Between them. He wormed the wiggly digits aggressively and slurped on them loudly. He suckled on each one and pushed his nose between – no, he forced his nose between the toes and took whiffs of the wolf’s salty scent. He nibbled on the sole and dragged his tongue all the way from the toes to the heels. All that and more while the wolf’s other sole suffered silently at the tips of those bristles that drove him insane, the bristles that melted his brains from just scrubbing across those helplessly tender arches.

Cael licked his lips, passed the brush from one hand to the other, and switched the targets. The toes that have not yet been licked were now the object of his feast; and the sole that was slick with the rabbit’s saliva was once again agonized by the rabbit’s skillful approach with the brush.

Chad screamed into the rabbit’s ass. His tongue slipped out, only to be met by the rabbit’s fatty, squishy meat. Even while he was dying of laughter, he still found the time to give the rabbit a lick and a nibble. A shiver ran up his spine when he tasted the rabbit on his tongue, a shiver strong enough for the rabbit to feel the sudden shake of the wolf’s body.

“Oh, no you don’t!” Cael warned. He lifted himself just enough to strip his pants, and then immediately sat down on the wolf’s face again, his naked butt against the wolf’s maw. “This isn’t about you, jackass! Now put that mouth to use properly, before you even think about getting off!”

Chad opened his maw and extended his tongue until he lapped at the rabbit’s smaller, but firmer cock. He felt the rabbit adjust himself until that cock was inserted into his maw, and like a good tickle pup Chad lapped wetly against the shaft and laughed into it as the rabbit thrusted his hips, while the wolf’s toes were in the rabbit’s mouth.

Cael felt lightheaded from how good it felt – to use the wolf’s maw like a fleshlight, while the wolf’s tasty toes wiggled wildly in his mouth. He couldn’t help but run the brush against the wolf’s sole again, while he used his free hand to scratch against the arches of the foot where he suckled on the toes. Thrust, scratch, thrust, lickle, thrust.

Mostly the thrust.

The rabbit reached as though his cock was a rapier, and the wolf’s maw its sheath. He pushed his hips deeply into the wolf’s face, his hot scent filled Chad’s nose. With each forced laughter the wolf inhaled the rabbit’s scent of arousal, and blurted into the rabbit’s cock waves of his ticklish, squeamish squeals for his rabbit Master’s pleasure. Chad moaned. His whole body shuddered, even while he was actively sucking on the entire length of the rabbit’s cock.

Then, the wolf made the mistake of slowing down for all of three seconds. 

The veins on the rabbit’s forehead returned.

“Are you fucking kidding me? What did I JUST tell you?” Cael’s eyes twitched again. Twice, this time. The rabbit groaned in frustration and thrusted into the wolf’s maw harder. There was something incredible about angry sex that turned him on even more. For a mere moment, the rabbit swore that the wolf was about to give him an anger kink. He pushed it to the back of his mind, and focused on the resumed feeling of his cock being sucked. 

Then, he smelled the wolf’s sex as Chad’s seed announced their presence by being spilled everywhere – under the chair, over the wolf’s stomach, and of course, on the floor.

Cael dropped the brush from his hand and held tightly onto the wolf’s ankles. He thrusted harder, faster, and began to form a good rhythm. Just as the rabbit got close to his own climax, the wolf did another stupid thing – and spat the rabbit’s cock from his mouth.

“Ah – ahh..!” Chad moaned. “I’m so sensitive right now, Cael..!” He whined again, He clenched his toes and hid them away from the rabbit’s tongue, completely oblivious to the rabbit’s needs and how close he was. Then, the wolf felt something hot splatter against his neck and chest – only to be met by the rabbit’s angry glare as Cael turned his head around. “Uh – uh oh!”

“..UGH!!” The rabbit shouted from the depths of his soul. A perfectly good orgasm, ruined at the very last second because the wolf couldn’t think of anyone else other than himself. “Are you KIDDING ME RIGHT NOW?!”

The rabbit panted and gasped for air as he turned around hulkingly. His eyes practically glowed a fiery red, like they were fuelled by the flames of hell. The rabbit put his hands around the wolf’s neck and squeezed.

Even being choked turned Chad on. The wolf whimpered with pleasure as his head became dizzy with renewed lust. He was hopeless.

“I’m going to get a drink, Chad.” Cael said firmly as he held in as much of his rage as possible. “Then, I’m going to come back, we’re going to take it from the top – and if you dare to ruin my orgasm again, there is going to be HELL TO PAY, wolf! Do I make myself clear!?”

“Eep! Yes, Sir!”

=The end=

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Patreon Exclusive: June 2025 I

Saphira, The Eternal Tickle Pet

By KinkSaber

He knew something was very wrong when Emeralda visited. The Gem Dragon of the oceans felt the eldest’s cosmic power wane on that fateful day, and since then not a moment has gone by that Saphira wasn’t anxious or nervous. He hid deep in the oceans, under the crushing weight of water that he knew mortals could not protect themselves against, unlike the merfolk of the sea.

Saphira instructed the merfolk he lorded over to hide, to never show their face again to the surface dwellers. He was the last pillar that held the world’s cycle together, and without him, the planet would be doomed to a barren lifelessness. The seas remained bountiful for many years, unlike the forest, the desert, or the mountains. Without their respective dragons, resources depleted rapidly. A hundred years passed and the mortals barely felt the difference, but not so five hundred or a thousand. Then, in the blink of an eye, ten thousand years have gone by since the very last sighting of any of the dragons.

The border of the lands divided and reunited. Kingdoms fell and rose again. The face of the continent was barely recognizable. From the ruins of four distinct races and massive civilizations came one united empire on land; and then infighting fractured them into three once again. Three immortal kings led their respective rule, and each knew the other’s secret – for they all possessed a dragon of their own. Over the hundreds upon hundreds upon thousands of years, Escalion, Venescara, and Brionac all grew weary and tired of the constant, meaningless conflicts.

With the cosmic power of the dragons under their command, none of the three could best one another. Each kept the secret of immortality extremely well guarded, to the point where it was clear even to the average commoner that Escalion’s Mage Tower, the Abyssal Dungeons in the heart of the Fire Mountains, and the endless labyrinth of the Eternal Forests held the seat and core of each of the three immortal’s powers. Knowing where they were located was one challenge; but to reach it was a whole other beast. The stolen, corrupted, and jealously guarded cosmic power had stained the very halls that held the dragons captive with abominations and monsters, loyal only to the three kings themselves.

They met once every hundred years to discuss the political standings and to renew treaties, but most of these were superficial bureaucratic paperwork that the government staff took care of. The truth of the matter was they sought after the fourth and final dragon. As greed goes, the three were not satisfied with the one infinite source of power that they held within the palm of their hands.

But Saphira was wise and cautious to the point of paranoia. He hid in the depths where even sunlight could not penetrate the darkness of the waters, far away from the shores of civilization. His hiding place was not as deep as the Abyssal Dungeons under the Fire Mountains, but the sheer size of the ocean that covered the entire planet offered him an excellent hiding spot. 

Then, there was his cosmic power. Saphira spread it out all over, and commanded the waves to disperse it with such fury that his signature echoed all over the world; from the seas to the shores, to the rivers and lakes, the rain and the fog, and the mist and the morning dew. Over ten thousand years it had become impossible to track the dragon based solely on his power alone. It was in the air, in the water, in the earth, and in every living thing that soaked up a single molecule in the water cycle.

That was the true topic of discussion for the three immortal kings. Saphira’s power had spread out so thinly and evenly that not even the combined might of Escalion, Venescara, and Brionac could even begin to point out the general direction in which he hid. Another hundred years passed, and another hundred years without progress.

Saphira thought of ways to escape. Unlike the mortals, he was not bound by the necessities to sustain life. There was a time when he looked up to the moon and wondered if he could escape there. Certainly, his power would allow him to flee the planet; but his charge had been to maintain the waters and keep it full of life. Could he still fulfill his duty from the moon? No. It was too risky. If he failed, the planet would be doomed; and Saphira could not have the death of billions of lives on his conscience.

Still, from time to time, he sensed a meager drop of power from Emeralda, or Rubius, or even Ambros. A single meager drop that resonated with him. The energy wave that permeated through the thick oceans that shielded him. He did not answer the call. He knew that the danger of exposing himself would put him in the same situation as the others. Whatever came after the other three was powerful enough to keep them captive; and Saphira knew that if none of the three could escape on their own, he couldn’t escape his own capture, either; and so he waited for a chance that he hoped would come. He slumbered while the merfolk guarded hundreds of temples built undersea to obscure his true location. He prayed to Mother Gaia and Father Ouranous in his mind and heart and soul for a miracle. A second miracle, after the creation of the world. It was something that he needed desperately against an unknown, unseen enemy.

If only Saphira had ventured out into the world and walked among the short-lived creatures, he would immediately notice the three mortals that should have died millennia ago, but didn’t; and from there deduced their involvement. Had he been in the Eternal Forests in the first hundred years of Emeralda’s capture, he could have freed the tickle tormented dragon before Brionac had learned to control and temper the sword to bend the dragon to his will. It was too late for that now. Saphira cowered in his ignorance.

Then, when it seemed impossible, Saphira dreamed of his brethren one moonless night. He saw them crystal clear, as if they stood before him. The great dragon of the oceans startled awake, and lifted his head. He tasted the magic in the water and listened to the song of the cosmic power. He heard them. He first thought it was an illusion, that his mind played tricks on him from centuries upon centuries of loneliness – but it was not so. There was a call from the other three to summon him. An intentional call rather than the occasional droplet, rather than the scent of a trail.

Saphira knew in his mind that it could be a trap; but after inaction for so long, he couldn’t bear to stay still any longer. This was the best chance that he had seen in ten thousand years, and if he let it slip between his fingers, there was no guarantee that another would come in the next ten thousand years. Saphira swam from the bottom of the deepest trenches of the oceans and drew towards the starry night sky.

There, in the air, three dragons flew in unison. Ruby red. Emerald green. Amber yellow. Each one left a trail of cosmic power in the air that sparkled like precious stones. Saphira gasped the mouthful of fresh air in the thousands of years he hid under the sea. 

He spread his wings and sloughed off the water that weighed him down. For the first time in ten thousand years, Saphira took to the night sky and felt the darkness envelope him. He let the glow of his scales shine as brightly as the stars that draped over the land and seas as cape over the shoulders of man.

He flew higher. He tasted the trail of cosmic power left by the other three. Yes. They belonged to Emeralda, Rubius, and Ambros. Saphira released a trail of his own, and added to the color of the night sky, unseen by any other. Closer. Closer. He saw the shape of the other three, just as he remembered them the very last time they had appeared. Faster. Faster. He was catching up. He felt an emotion bubble in his chest. An emotion that he had never felt before. Relief? Gladness to see the other dragons once again? Saphira didn’t know what to call it. All that ran through his mind was to meet his brethren in the sky once more.

“EMERALDA! RUBIUS! AMBROS!” Saphira cried out. It had been a very long time since he rode the winds of magic. His voice boomed, but the three did not turn their heads to look. They flew onward. Saphira pushed himself and flew faster. Every last ounce of magic in his body he put towards increasing his velocity and to hold the air barrier that protected him. Like a blue tailed comet, Saphira blazed across the night sky until the three were within reach. “IT’S ME! IT’S ME! WAIT FOR ME!”

When he was close enough to see three figures that sat above the three dragons, it was too late for him. There was no longer a place that he could escape to – neither the bottom of the oceans, or the heart of Gaia, or the moon or stars.

On the back of each dragon was their captor, who, over ten thousand years, learned the ways of infinite cosmic power. Learned them so intimately that even the dragons were no match in knowledge or handling of it; for, you see, mortals always found a way to exploit the resources they were afforded.

It was Brionac who first proposed this plan. From the sword tethered with a sliver of Emeralda’s soul, the thief-turned-warrior-turned-ruler sought out the understanding of soul magic. It was a brand of magic never before thought possible until the thief-turned-king completed extensive, highly secret research over millennia. Where he once stole gold coins from the purse of the wealthy, Brionac was soon known by his new moniker – The Soul Reaver King. Even Escalion, the most celebrated King of Magic, could scarcely decipher the way Brionac cast his spells. The same was true for Venescara, who took on the title of King of the Abyss – even his corrupted, hellish magic could not replicate how Brionac manipulated souls.

Well, not without help, anyway. From the very person who spearheaded the new brand of dark, forbidden sorcery.

It did not take long for them to realize that the fourth dragon had hidden himself from mortal eyes; and to seek him out would be a fool’s folly. Brionac, who by now had complete mastery over the souls of mortals and Emeralda alike, taught the other two how to tame their own dragon. A mortal’s soul was weak, fragile, and easily manipulated with just a single drop of cosmic power. A dragon’s soul was anything but; and to even replicate the forging of Emeralda’s sword took a thousand years on its own. Cosmic dragon fire was the easiest to obtain – the three tormented dragons happily offered up their flames if it meant only a single minute without torment. Their blessings were, in the same way, coaxed from their lips. Scales taken from Rubius and Ambros eventually turned into magical swords of their own, and a very small fragment of the respective dragon’s soul was sealed inside it, just like the one that Emeralda had created. With that, the dragons were under the absolute commands of the mortals who had conquered them, broken in body, mind, and spirit.

After ten thousand years of trials, errors, and preparations, the three set out to bait the very last dragon to show. Each dragon was harnessed, and gagged to silence them; and on the back of each dragon rode their master – their captor, their owner. The command was given, and each dragon took flight in the sky from the moment the sun set, and flew across the ocean as their signature cosmic power pulsed and bursted from their bodies, sent into the ether and unknown corners of the world. It was Venescara who hypothesized that if all three dragons freely shedded their glorious powers as sheep shedding their wool in the summer, then perhaps, there is a chance that Saphira would take notice.

With the threat, of course, that this would be the very final night of freedom they would ever experience – so, as Escalion suggested, they should not waste the opportunity to enjoy the skies.

For the dragons, who had been endlessly tickled, tortured, edged, and subsequently milked for their seeds for ten thousand years, saw that this, too, was their one and only chance to be freed. They hoped that Saphira would have found a way to counter the spells and vile magic that kept them the mage’s pets. It was the final chapter in their stories, whether the mages emerged victorious or not.

Individually, they could not stand up to the might of Saphira. The cosmic dragon fire from his throat would easily disintegrate any matter, physical or magical. But with the knowledge of corrupted magic from Venescara, that was another story. Each of the three had in their arsenal the ability to nullify anything that Saphira could throw at them. The final piece of the puzzle was held in Escalion’s mind, of which he never shared with the other two. It was his trump card. Something that only he knew.

By the time Saphira approached the other three flying dragons, he realized that the reason why Emeralda, Rubius, and Ambros did not slow in their flight was to flee from him. To protect him. When he saw the three mortals who held a magical sword in each of their hands, he knew that there was no grounds for negotiation, and no time to reminisce until the villains had been defeated.

“DEFILERS! BLASPHEMERS!” Saphira roared, with cosmic power that charged his voice. His anger echoed across the surface of the planet. The dragon gathered all of his strength and released his fire – which burned so hot that the air that surrounded the trajectory instantly turned into a whirlwind of plasma, and so bright that the night sky, for a fleeting moment, became brighter than the light of day. He knew that his brothers would be unscathed, and so he put everything he had into the one breath that lit the atmosphere aflame.

Of the sixteen layers of stacked barriers that the mages had combined, only two remained. More accurately, only one remained intact, while the second layer crumbled away. It was much too close. They had repeatedly forced Emeralda to breathe cosmic dragon fire against practice targets, of which only seven barriers could be breached. Operating under extreme caution, the three decided to more than double the barriers in place in real combat. It was a wise decision. The results in the labs were, after all, not representative of live battle.

While Venescara and Brionac repaired the only protection that prevented them from being atomized, Escalion returned offensive spells of his own – using the corrupted mana that Venescara had demonstrated to be effective against dragons. Though he was well versed in battle, the high speed that the dragons flew at made it impossible for him to target Saphira with any of his spells. As soon as his magic materialized, Saphira sensed the corruption and dodged it with the swiftness of wind under his wings. The three mages saw a glint in the dragon’s maw – and prepared themselves for another blast of cosmic dragon fire that was equally as powerful as the first. Even through the barriers they felt the heat against their scalps. It would have taken less than a second to tear them apart on the molecular level if not for the layers upon layers of barriers that took the brunt of the hit. Then, a third breath, no less powerful than the first two – of which Venescara and Brionac only managed to defend against at the very last second.

Had Saphira pressed on his attack, there was a chance that he would breach the barriers; but out of his furious rage the dragon howled, and it was that several seconds that cost him the advantage that he had gained so far. They were once again on equal ground between the layers of protective magic and the flames that crushed them.

Flash after flash, the sky lit in lightning and flames. Saphira chased the mortals who trespassed against the territory of the dragon’s rule, and he did not let up. In his wrath, he did not notice that one of the three mages were not, in fact, preparing the defensive spells that protected them.

It was Escalion, who rode on top of Ambros, that knew he had to play his trump card now. Even with the source of infinite power they had stolen from the dragons he understood right away that the three of them would be at a vast disadvantage if they drew the battle out any further. The mage king wielded two ancient staves, one in each hand; both enchanted under the solar and lunar eclipse of thousands of years. He glared intently at Saphira and mumbled chants as rapidly as he could – of a spell that he spent just as much time crafting as his staves.

The space around them began to warp as the spell took form. Escalion chugged the bottles attached to the holster on his waist, filled with potions made of Ambros’ milk, distilled and concentrated until it was pure cosmic power. As soon as he finished one, the spell drained almost every last drop from his body, and he chugged another. Another blast of dragon fire, and this time it breached the very last barrier. They had no time left. Venescara looked to Brionac, and the thief king looked back. Their eyes met. It was one final gamble – win or die, this was the moment. From the range, they saw another glimmer from Saphira’s throat. It was now or never.

Each of them raised the magical sword in their hand, and channeled their own magical power as supply for Escalion’s spell. With the boost, it was barely just enough to finish fueling the longest, most complex enchantment that Escalion had ever conjured in his unending life. And then, the tides of battle turned.

The entire area that surrounded them cracked and shattered. There was a shift in gravity, in which rather than downwards, the dragons and the immortals were pulled from all sides at the same time. From the starry night sky came a warped field of coalescent nothingness. It was not a barrier, nor a prison, nor a place. It was merely a place – an empty place that seemed to extend to an infinite void. There was no light, no shadows, and no traces of the world of Gaia.

Escalion fell to the back of Ambros, who was no longer in flight. Venescara and Brionac merely marveled at the sight – and Saphira held off his attack only in amazement of what the insignificant, two-legged creature created.

“What in Mother Gaia’s name is this?!” The dragon growled. Saphira grew anxious once again. He no longer sensed the world that he was born in.

“Kill me, and you’ll never escape. None of us would.” Escalion choked and coughed. It took him every last ounce of energy just to speak, now that he was completely empty. He reached for another bottle with his shaky hands, and downed the contents. It was the last bottle, and neither Venescara nor Brionac had any left on them, either. The barriers they conjured drained them of all their supplies, too.

“What have you done, Escalion?” Brionac turned in every direction. Not that directions mattered – it was an endless void where nothing could be seen any way he looked.

“A last ditch effort is what.” Venescara reached out to feel the magic. It was corrupted, but there were also elements of soul magic and space magic involved. “Oh. Escalion, you’ve really outdone yourself. You’ve trapped us in a corrupted pocket dimension hosted in your very own soul. Well done, Escalion, well done. Surely, neither Me nor Brionac would be able to break out of here on our own. You have never shared the secrets of your space magic.”

“Just how much do you intend on defiling the natural laws?” Saphira’s eyes gleamed as blue as his name. He was ready to turn the three villains into ash, even if what they said was true.

“Calm yourself, Saphira.” Escalion replied. “If I die, my soul vanishes, and this pocket dimension vanishes with it. You will drift in the empty void for eternity.”

“And I suspect that should anyone try to temper with your spell, the dimension would collapse upon itself, crushing everything in it into a single point of existence.” Brionac lowered his weapon and sheathed it. The thief king laughed heartily. “So your choice, Lord Saphira – all of our fates – is to drift for eternity in an endless void, or to spend eternity crushed in a prison smaller than the breadth of a single strand of hair. Unless, of course, Escalion so chooses to release us from this place.”

Saphira struggled internally. His decision was not whether to kill Escalion, Venescara, or Brionac – but the fact that if he did so, he would not only doom the four dragons, but also the world to a most pitiable, destitute end. If he did not, though, he would be the one held captive – the same as the defeated dragons that he saw before him now.

“Release my brothers.” Saphira demanded.

“Very well.” Escalion waved his hand and released the spells that bound Ambros in the cursed equipment. The yellow dragon cried and ran – no – willed himself towards Saphira. No. Behind Saphira. In fear.

“Escalion!” Venescara whispered, as if Escalion had done something he shouldn’t have.

“What’s the harm? Nobody can break out of this place – the dragons, least of all. You should know this, Venescara.” Escalion said calmly. Pretentiously calm. He put on an act of courage and confidence that he did not have. “The dragons are fundamentally incompatible with corrupted mana. It was you who discovered that fact. I merely weaved it into this dimension – so that no matter how much power the dragons unleash, they will not break the bounds of this place. They could, of course, burn me with their cosmic dragon fire, but they will be trapped for all eternity.”

“You believe that guarantees your safety?” Saphira gritted his teeth and glared at the other two, who saw reason and an intention behind Escalion’s calmness, and followed suit. Soon enough, both Rubius and Emeralda were similarly freed from their bondage, and were finally reunited with Saphira.

“You..!” Rubius’s flames reignited when he tasted his temporary freedom. “Escalion aside, explain why I should not tear you limb from limb from this moment, Venescara! Or you, Brionac!”

Venescara merely crossed his arms confidently and smirked. The palm of his hand touched the decorative ruby on the hilt of his sword by his waist, and the dragon felt a jolt of electricity run through his body, as if he was struck by lightning. Rubius growled and backed off, but remained on alert.

“Even if I wanted to free all of us right now, I couldn’t.” Escalion interrupted. “I’m running on empty. A spell of this size took a thousand years to prepare for, and it’ll take another thousand years to cast again. More, actually, since nothing else exists in this dimension. We’ll need to start from zero. Of course, now that Ambros is freed from my hand, I don’t suppose I’ll live that long without a constant source of.. Heh, your milk. Do you care to volunteer, Saphira? Or should I return to Ambros for his flavor?”

“You shall not lay your hands on my brothers again!” Saphira stepped up and spread his wings protectively. “If we must be trapped here, then so be it. A small sacrifice to keep your wickedness from the world!“

Saphira steeled his nerves, then summoned his strength and exhaled – only to find that the cosmic dragon fire that he was so dependent on was no longer within his reach. The power swelled in his chest, but it would not circulate in his body, nor could the cosmic power be drawn as his strength.

“..Yeesh. A thousand years to prepare, and it still barely made it in time.” Venescara exhaled shakily. It wasn’t until just now that he realized what Escalion had done. “Just like how you’ve not once arrived on time for our meetings, Escalion.”

“What have you done to me?!” Saphira shouted. He tried again, only to find that all of his divine gifts were no longer available to him.

“This pocket dimension. It’s made of corrupt magic, remember? We just went over this.” Escalion finally relaxed his posture. Now that the dragons were once again made powerless, they were seen as little more than titanic, intelligent beasts. “The moment my spell completed, Saphira – we won. You had but the one chance to destroy us. Now that you’ve squandered your precious opportunity, Saphira, allow me to show you how your cosmic powers should really, truly be used!”

—

It was a plan that even the other three dragons did not know, nor could they begin to guess at.

The three mages held onto the hilt of their magically forged swords, gem in palm, and poured a small amount of recovered mana into it. At once, the three dragons that had once been under their thumb felt as if a jolt of electricity ran through their minds; muddied them, and their bodies began to act not to their wishes, but to the mages.

Titanic as he may be, when up against three dragons of the same stature, even Saphira could not defend himself. The last dragon struggled in horror as his brethren, who he thought had been freed, began to subdue him as if they were the mage’s henchmen. 

“Cease! What are you doing?! What is the meaning of this?! Release me!” Saphira cried as the three dragons, equal to his stature, held him down.

“Soul magic.” Brionac rubbed his palm against the enchanted gem upon the hilt of his sword. “As it turns out, when part of one’s soul is enchanted into an object, they fall under the command of whoever holds it. Humans, elves, dwarves – even dragons. When you can puppeteer even dragons – well, suddenly your draconic divinity doesn’t seem so divine, does it?”

Fear struck Saphira’s heart. He was not aware of what the short-lived creatures were capable of, or how they’ve evolved. Lies. Deceit. Everything had gone according to the mage’s plans from the very moment he was lured out of the sea. Every word they spoke was false, until the very moment of his capture. He finally realized that these three were willing to do anything, say anything, and commit any sin to achieve their goal. They had even veiled their intentions from the other three dragons – Emeralda, Rubius, and Ambros – and used them to the very last drop, which was the only route that led to this moment in time.

“And speaking of divinity, you are the final piece of the puzzle.” Escalion spoke calmly. “We each hold one dragon, and yet for ten thousand years made little progress until we united. Now all four dragons are gathered. From you we shall extract your essence – and oh, Saphira, we have gotten very, very good at extracting the cosmic power from dragons. If you do not resist, you might even find it enjoyable, as your brothers have.”

He nodded towards the other three dragons, who let slip slight moans from their throats. They longed for freedom, but could not deny the pleasures of the flesh that being conquered had bought them. From the corner of Saphira’s eyes, he saw the new appendage from between their legs – grown, erect, and stood at full attention at the mage’s simple spoken words.

“Blasphemers..! Filth! Blood traitors of Gaia! You ingrates! You narcissists!” Saphira hissed. Emeralda’s hand wrapped around his maw; commanded by Brionac to silence the newly caught, defiant dragon.

“It matters not, Saphira. We know now that you are not true gods. You will break and surrender in due time – and we have all the time in the world.” Venescara touched the insides of his wrist together, and bound Saphira with engravings of runes over his scales. The runes sapped the dragon’s strength, until he could no longer move, even when the other three dragons had been commanded to back off. A quick flash of the flow of mana revealed that the other three also had similar runes engraved over their bodies, as if the spell that bound their souls were not enough.

“Now, let us show Saphira just how much our trained pets have learned to love the fun that we’ve taught them.”

There was nothing Saphira could do but watch in horror as, even when the mages released their control over the enchanted gems, the other dragons obediently got into their trained position. If he didn’t see it with his own eyes he would never believe that Ambros so willingly – so eagerly – shrunk down to the human’s preferred size, and allowed the mage to bind him in a tight suit of latex, with none of the brilliance of his amber radiance showing through the scale-hugging, dark-as-night, fit and tailored suit. Every part of Ambros’ body was covered, save the dragon’s feet and, naturally, the appendage that Saphira did not have – Ambros’ incredibly sensitive and erect cock.

Saphira’s maw was soon sealed shut by one of the mage’s spells, fueled by the corrupted magic that coursed through them; and in turn he was reduced to a silent observer, no longer able to object or decry the treatment that the small creatures had in store for the three dragons. He screamed into it when he saw how obediently Ambros spread his legs apart and allowed his human Master to tame the burning desire there. How the dragon offered up his soles for the human to lick and suckle on. Even when the suit hardened and turned Ambros into a living statue for the human’s viewing pleasure, the dragon only responded with loud, lewd moans that betrayed any shreds of dignity he had ever had. He powerlessly watched as the human mage retrieved one item after another, from a magic bag of holding, that added to the helplessness of the – the thing that was once Ambros, the great dragon of the deserts. 

The more Ambros’ identity, power, and agency was stripped from him, the harder his cock became; and the more of his infinite cosmic power leaked from the tip of it in the form of sticky, silvery-white milk. Endlessly tormented. Endlessly kissed. The dragon’s handsome face was hidden behind a hood that robbed him of sight, sound, and smells. That was not enough for the human Master of the dragon, who wrapped a harness over the dragon’s head; though the dragon submitted and refused to move, the human added chains that bound Ambros’ arms behind his back, belts that bound the dragon’s wings together, and a hook that attached Ambros’ tail to the nape of his neck. His soles were on full display as the human switched between his indulgences – to lick against the dragon’s soles and to tickle them with torturous magic; spells that conjured and controlled uncountable amounts of feathers and brushes that teased and raked the entire length of that dragon’s sole. Though he did not move, Ambros howled with laughter, even with the gag that was present in his mouth under the latex hood. Still as a statue, still as stone. The dragon was reduced to nothing more than a fancier version of a music box of laughter, his existence erased from the world, only to serve as Escalion’s tickle tortured pet. As a finishing touch, the human clicked an enchanted cage over Ambros’ cock, which locked it in place and prevented Ambros from his sweet release.

“There, there. My pet. All snug and comfortable now, are you?” Escalion chuckled as he petted the dragon’s head. He gave the dragon’s soles another kiss, and then a teasing stroke on the dragon’s trapped cock. The cry of pleasure told him all he needed to know. “Let’s see. We’ll start you off with a hundred years.”

Ambros moaned in protest.

”I know, I know. That’s not nearly enough to satisfy you, hmm? How long do you want this time? Five hundred? A thousand? You’re really hard to please, Ambros. A thousand years, then. A thousand years trapped as a statue, tickled on your gorgeous soles for your milk.”

A thousand years. The way that Ambros cooed happily made Saphira shudder. He turned his eyes away.

There was Rubius, who was shown a different treatment from his halfling Master, Venescara. Like Ambros, the great dragon became the size of Venescara’s lover, and from where he was stationed Saphira witnessed Rubius’ defeat. Though the clarity of his anger earlier was real, so was the passion with which he kissed against Venescara’s lips. The red dragon, who took an androgynous form of a thin and frail half-dragonling, moaned with deep pleasure as his lips met the halfling’s again and again. The dragon whispered words that begged Venescara for forgiveness, for the harshness of his trespasses when he was temporarily released from his leash. The halfling villain stroked the dragon’s cheek with the back of his hand, and grinned with a wicked smile that told Rubius the thing that he already knew.

“If you wish for forgiveness, then earn it, pet.” The halfling said. “You know how I like it.”

The dragon kneeled before the halfling and tore down the mage’s pants, and with ardent greed he began to lap and suck on Venescara’s cock with a hungry maw. Rubius used his entire tongue to stroke the shaft and the head of the halfling’s most sensitive spots, the spots that he knew reacted best to the dragon’s touches, and he swallowed the entire length of it all the way down, until the head of Venescara’s cock smashed against the back of his throat. Rubius gurgled and choked loudly, just the way Venescara liked it. He held nothing back, until he felt the halfling’s hands grab the back of his head and pulled it back. He looked upward with puppy eyes - -the halfling hadn’t released yet. 

“Please, Master.” Rubius begged. “I need your seed, just as I offer you mine freely. Fill me..!”

“I said – you know how I like you.” The halfling repeated once more. His cheeks flushed. He had trained Rubius well. The dragon was so good at what he did that Venescara almost spilled his load right then and there; but that wasn’t what he wanted. That wasn’t his favorite part. Not Rubius’ mouth. The halfling pointed.

“..Yes, Master Venescara.” Rubius moaned and sat on his rump. He lifted his legs upwards and offered up his soles for the halfling. 

“What else, my love?” Venescara demanded. “Say it loudly so Saphira can witness it. If you want that slutty dragon ass to be filled later, you know what you must do.”

“Aah..!” Rubius moaned and felt his cock pulse and twitch. The humiliation only added to the excitement and arousal. The dragon flexed his toes. His attention was instantly shifted to how sensitive his feet had become – over the many years of being the subject of Venescara’s array of softening cream and sensitizing lotions. They had become just as, if not more sensitive than his ass or his genitals. “..Master..! F-fuck my soles..!”

Venescara held Rubius’ left foot in his hand, and rubbed his hot cock against it. The warmth of the halfling’s shaft pressed against the dragon’s soft, tenderized arches, and Rubius whimpered with excited pleasure. Unlike Escalion, Venesacara didn’t care to edge his lover. The halfling much preferred to milk every last drop of it from the dragon’s groin; and so he magically modified the dragon’s physical form until just about every sensation of pleasure made Rubius a raging, rock hard goon. The dragon’s pink soles were beautiful to the halfling’s sight and the lewd, slutty noises from the dragon’s throat was music to his ears. The more he grinded his cock over the dragon’s sole, the more aroused Rubius became – and it was apparent even to Saphira when Rubius began to touch himself.

“G-gah!” Rubius choked. His mind was a battlefield – between the strokes that bought him intense pleasure and the desire to extend how long it lasted. One hand couldn’t stop touching his own sensitive cock, while the fingers on the other were eager to explore his own asshole. His arms jerked jankily as his mind tried to stop himself from finishing too early. He sought the high of orgasm, but the journey towards that experience was in itself equally temptatious. Rubius’ eyes rolled back in his skull, and his body shook from the waves of sensation that rocked him upside down. 

“Don’t stop, my love.” Venescara commanded as he put both of the dragon’s soles together and thrusted between them. “Don’t stop touching yourself. Don’t you dare deny me my pleasure, either – let me watch you. Let me see all of you. All of it.”

Rubius gulped, then began to freely stroke himself as he toyed with his asshole. His fingers found the most pleasurable spot there, and as he rubbed his prostate and palmed the head of his cock the dragon let his tongue lull from his maw and cry out the name of his halfling Master. Venescara thrusted between the sensitive soles more intently as Rubius wiggled and spread his toes for the halfling. 

“..Now spill your seed, my love. Waste them. Waste all that cosmic power for me.” The halfling said with a smirk on his face. The dragon obliged. Rubius stroked himself faster, the fingers in his ass pressed against the spot until his milk flowed from the tip of his cock. He continued to stroke. His body became most sensitive – especially his soles, where he felt every last thrust from the halfling’s cock. It was the way his foot flesh was used like a sex toy that turned him on the most. Even though his milk had already splattered over his stomach and chest, the dragon’s cock was not yet satisfied.

“M-master..! Aah.. aah!” The dragon’s moans were unfiltered, not held back by the modesty that he abandoned long ago. Even when he rode on the high of orgasm the dragon still sought for more from that halfling that adored him, loved him for the filthy, perverse, foot-fuck addict that he was. He spread his toes again, as far as he could manage, for the viewing pleasure of his Master. “F-fuck them harder. Fuck my soles. My – my horny dragon soles! ..Please..please! Oh yes, yes..!”

“Such a perfect fuck hole. Such an obedient pet.” Venescara rammed his hips against the dragon’s soles. He felt the twitches in the dragon’s arches and the way the dragon’s toes fray and spread. The undeniable tremors in the dragon’s legs. He loved it when Rubius let loose, when his mind was empty of all but the physical pleasures of the flesh between the two. He couldn’t get enough of it. He, too, was as addicted to Rubius as Rubius was addicted to him.

“Paint my soles.. Paint my soles!” The dragon cried as he came for a second time. He needed to feel the hot seed plastered against the skin of his feet. “Cum on my feet. Master, cum on my feet – hng – I need your cum on my feet!”

With his feet together and his toes spread, the dragon was ready to catch the halfling’s milk. Venescara thrusted several more times before he withdrew his hips, then he held his cock in his hand and gave it a good pump. As the heat of his spunk splattered against Rubius’ soles, the dragon visibly shook as a third orgasm followed immediately after his second. Rubius roared and clenched his toes together as he felt the halfling’s milk squelch between them. He rubbed his feet together and spread it all over, even as the fluid flowed down his legs. At last, he was satisfied, and he opened his arms and demanded for his Master to reward him with cuddles – for being such a good boy. Venescara obliged, and the two embraced in kisses as passionately as when they started.

Saphira could not even begin to imagine how broken Rubius’ mind must have been to be so corrupted, to disregard his charge from Mother Gaia, and to sink so low that the dragon willingly became the halfling’s plaything-slash-lover for the meager and cheap thrill of the flesh.

The crestfallen dragon turned away from the unbearable sight of Rubius and looked to Emeralda, the eldest and the leader of their species, for whatever hope that he could cling on to. Soon Saphira would learn the same thing that the other dragons had already experienced with their very own bodies – that hope was a luxury no longer affordable to them.

The solemn, dignified dragon that Saphira had always placed on a pedestal was not there, replaced by a doppelganger that wore his face and his scales. The sight of it chilled Saphira’s spirit to the core. 

How? How could Emeralda be like this? Where was the wise dragon who commanded the heavens and the earth with the boom of his voice? Where was the firstborn, with the blessings of Gaia, who brought forth all life to the world? Where was the leader, the king, the divine dragon?

Like Ambros and Rubius, Emeralda took a form that was half way between his elven disguise and his true dragon body. He was no less intoxicated by Brionac’s lavish attention, having adapted – no – twisted – into the writhing, giggly thing that he was now.

Much like Rubius, who offered up his soles to be fucked like cheap whores, Emeralda could not help but beg his Master to be crueler with the tickling on his feet. The dragon dutifully bound himself with conjured vines that zapped his strength, which was the way he liked to be when he was at the mercy of the thief king’s tickle parade. The magic pouch on his waist was filled with the tools that Emeralda had grown to love. At first they were made of wood, steel, and stone – but soon that proved fragile as wet paper when used against the tickle-starved dragon’s large, taut soles.

Among his favorite tools was the foot file, which kept those dragon soles softer than anything else in the entire world. Brionac would make time every single week, come hell or high water, to personally attend Emeralda’s foot pampering session. The amount of lotion and oils he had spent on those dragon soles was a fortune unto itself; the gold coins alone would be enough to buy a small kingdom and let everyone who lived in it spoil in luxury for generations. It was still a trivial amount compared to the true treasure that he owned – Emeralda’s feet, after all, deserved the very best that the world had to offer.

Free from blemish, that foot file kept the dragon’s feet void of calluses or hard skin, and the abundant treatments guaranteed its sensitivity. Yes, Emeralda protested when he was trapped in the world tree, with only his head and soles exposed. For the first several hundred years, the cries of complaint were endless – but then one day, something completed the circuit in his brain, and the complaints waned. They turned into indulgent laughter as the dragon’s mind and sanity fled from him, who now experienced the intense, merciless tickling as the one and only form of pleasure. His cock was milked, as were the others, but nothing bought Emeralda more pleasure and joy than when his soles were bound, tied, made helpless, and taken advantage of by the man who owned him body and soul.

Even centuries later, hidden inside the depths of Brionac’s castle, Emeralda demanded to be kept bound and helpless in ways that pushed the thief king to the very cliff of his creative thinking.

There were the hundred years where Emeralda spent completely encased as part of the dungeon’s walls, where only his soles were left unburied under the tons of stones and bricks that hid his body. Those hundred years was when rumors of phantoms haunted the undercarriages of the castle spread like wildfire. When that wasn’t enough, Emeralda demanded his toes be spread and bound, demanded to be made even more helpless than Brionac thought possible. Demanded to be Brionac’s trophy. Demanded to be called as such when spoken to. When Brionac visited and whispered to those soles trapped in the wall, tickled and licked them, and spoke vile, degrading things to them. Suggested that the dragons be kept that way for good. 

Emeralda loved every second of it, and dreaded the daytime when Brionac had to take care of his personal affairs. Every moment that his soles weren’t tormented was a moment of eternity wasted.

Then there was the century that Emeralda’s sole served as Brionac’s bed in his most private chamber. 

With some minor space magic he learned from Escalion, Brionac detached the dragon’s sole and allowed the dragon to revert it to its original size. The sole itself was larger than both of them from heel to toe, and Emeralda demanded for it to be used as a bed. Demanded to be mummified and placed on it. Brionac could only oblige. Once bound, the dragon’s snout was placed between his own toes. Every breath was filled with the scent of his sweaty, musky toes. Emeralda moaned, and demanded for the thief king to begin the tickling – with both of them making sweet love on the bed of the dragon’s sole.

That, too, was not enough to satisfy the dragon’s tickle lust.

And so machines were built to pry the dragon’s toes apart, activated to scrub between each of his digits from sunrise to sunset. When night fell, it was time for the machines to spin and rotate feathers and brushes against the pads of the dragon’s toes while the helplessly bound dragon squirmed and screamed in Brionac’s embrace. All that the thief king had to do was turn on his stomach and he could freely taste between the dragon’s tickled toes, and as he thrusted against the arches and insteps his cock pushed into the softest foot flesh in all the realms. Emeralda, too, demanded his cock to be freed so that he may sample and indulge in the softness and helplessness of his sole being casually fucked, and feel his own seed spill on it. 

By the time Saphira had been captured, Emeralda was a shell of his former self. Less than a shell, really. The dragon who had lived among the mortal creatures, who had already been persuaded to learn, to live, and to breathe their cultural ways was more human, more elf, and more mortal than he was dragon. He indulged in alcohol, in ecstasy, and now in the forbidden pleasures of his flesh, and the flesh of his Master.

“Come on, Brio. Tickle me already.” Emeralda whined as his toes wiggled in the human’s face. The dragon gasped when he felt the human’s hand on the soles, and then turned bratty when he realized it wasn’t to run the tip of those fingers against his arches. “Bri-oooh! Did you bring my toys?”  

“So demanding..! Ugh..!” The human quickly ruffled through his pouch for the shackles and blindfolds, to which he handed to the dragon. “Do it yourself. You’re such a tickle slut.”

The meager gears weren’t enough to make Emeralda happy, but it was better than nothing. When Brionac began with his tongue against the dragon’s toes and his fingers prodded and screwed between those digits, the dragon cooed with giggles. When Brionac scratched along those dragon soles with his nails, Emeralda bursted out in jets of laughter. Then, the brushes made of mithril and adamantium came into play, and Emeralda let himself loose with roars of laughter so loud that it made Ambros and Rubius jealous of the attention paid to his feet.

Like Venesacara, Brionac was more into watching the dragon mess himself, and so as he tickled the dragon’s soles, he began to stroke the shaft of Emeralda’s cock, while he licked the tip of the head. It didn’t take the dragon long before he released the creamy pre that filled Brionac’s mouth. The harder the dragon was tickled, the more he leaked, until Brionac furiously stroked the orgasm out of him without warning. Not a single drop of Emeralda’s milk was wasted. With renewed vigor, Brionac continued – and he would do it with a sly grin on his face. He knew Saphira was watching, and he understood from the blue dragon’s expression just how scared he was.

Good.

He should be.

Saphira shuddered when their eyes met. The dragon jumped when he felt someone touch his foot. His whole body jerked and he yelped.

“Calm down, brother.” It was Rubius, whose attitude had turned so quickly from that of the defiant dragon, with fire still in his chest, not that long ago. “This isn’t as bad as you’d think. In fact, you might even find pleasure in it – after all, you’ve been all cold and alone in the depths of the sea for ten thousand years, haven’t you?”

“Don’t you – aah.. – seek the warmth of another’s touch?” Emeralda moaned between his giggles and laughter.

“..No!” Saphira mustered all of his strength to deny the accusation. 

“Then.. you will learn, as Ambros, Rubius, and Emeralda did.” Brionac chuckled. All three mages did. They grasped the sword hilt in their hand, and used it as a conduit of the dragon’s cosmic powers. The intricate spell they weaved changed the titanic dragon’s form to match the smaller, much more vulnerable, half-dragonling form that the other three took. The sapphire blue of his scales still shined through, and all three mages knew they all wanted a taste of the new dragon. Especially when his new cock seemed so inviting as it already stood erect from the rush of the dragon’s hormones.

“My love. Why don’t you begin by showing Saphira the pleasures that you’ve learned?” Venescara kissed Rubius on the lips, and pointed. 

“Yes, Emeralda – you, too.” Brionac stopped the scrubbing of the dragon’s sole, and as Emeralda removed his blindfolds, the dragon saw his Master had handed him his favorite brush. 

Both Rubius and Emeralda understood what they must do.

Saphira was still not used to his new body, and with the runes so freshly engraved upon him, he didn’t need any tools or gears to be overpowered. All that Emeralda and Rubius needed to do was to grasp Saphira’s wrists and ankles firmly in their strong hands, and Saphira was at their total mercy.

Not that they had any to spare. No. Their minds had already been too warped to even recall the very concept of it.

“Brothers! Please! Let me go!” Saphira begged. “Don’t listen to the mortals! Don’t listen to them! I am your kin!”

“And kin we shall remain.” Rubius licked his lips, and brought one of Saphira’s soles to his mouth. His hot tongue ran between each of the blue dragon’s toes as he wormed the muscle between the spread digits. Rubius moaned when the salty scent of the sea filled his greedy, watering mouth. Even without any pampering routine, Saphira’s sole was plenty soft – and extremely delectable to taste. The dragon continued to lick while Saphira cried out to protest, only for his pleas to be ignored. Licks turned into kisses, followed by the suckling of his toes. Even when the blue dragon clenched those digits closed, Rubius still found a way to force them open again, and he continued to slurp against the arches that filled his mouth with a delicious taste.

While his tongue was busy with Saphira’s sole, his own feet sought out their target – Saphira’s cock. It was only semi hard, but that was more than enough to work with. Rubius skillfully wrapped his soles around the blue dragon’s shaft, and began to pump it with expertise. He did, to be fair, have ten thousand years of practice for it. That skill was unmatched by Saphira’s defenseless cock, which grew harder and more aroused by the second. The new sensation flooded Saphira’s mind, as if a church bell had rung next to his head. It was too much for him to bear. The intense pleasure from Rubius’ soles made Saphira let slip the very first sexual moan from his throat. Saphira blushed.

“It’s time you learned of the pleasures Brionac had taught me, too.” Emeralda said gleefully as he grasped Saphira’s other foot in one hand, and the brush in the other. Without further discussion, the green dragon began to cruelly rake the brush up and down the shaking dragon’s sole.

“WAH?! WAH HAH HAH HAH HAHHH!! EME–EERR – RAAHH HAH HAH DAAH!!!” Saphira exploded in laughter the moment that brush made contact with his sole. Between the lickles and kisses, Rubius’ soles on his shaft, and Emeralda’s evil brush, Saphira’s mind was instantly overwhelmed with the multitude of sensations that rushed into his brain, like a broken dam that couldn’t hold back a great flood. Saphira saw stars and couldn’t even form a single coherent thought in that silly dragon head. All that he knew was that he was in so much trouble.

And that, in the very recesses of his mind, he was somewhat grateful that Ambros had been turned into Escalion’s living statue. He would surely not be able to handle it if all three of the other dragons worked over him at the same time.

That was, of course, until Escalion took the initiative for Ambros to join.

The space magic that Escalion excelled at was once again invoked, and Ambros’ caged cock was modularly detached from his pelvis the same way it had been many times before.

“Shh. My pet. I know you can hear – and you want to join in.”

Ambros squeaked from his throat. Escalion smiled. “And because I’m so magnanimous, I shall allow it.. For now.”

The human did not intrude on the dragon’s fun time with Saphira, and instead ventured into the mix where he could – between Saphira’s legs, where his asshole was prominently on display with both of his legs held up. He poured a small vial of oil over the twitchy cock to lubricate it, and then gently inserted the hot, needy shaft into Saphira’s ass. He pushed until he heard the moans from Ambros, too, that let him know it was now the perfect spot to keep that caged cock, at least, for the time being.

With Ambros’ cock pressed against his prostate, Saphira felt dizzy with the magnitude of pleasure that washed over him like a tsunami against a tiny raft. 

His soles were being slurped on and tickled.

His cock was pumped.

His ass was filled.

The seeds of sexual desires were planted in the dragon, and it took no time to grow and take root in the cracked psyche in his head.

He would learn to love it, eventually. Crave it, even. Beg for it, he would. Soon enough, anyway. It might take several hundred years, but then again, even ten thousand years is but the blink of an eye in the ruined lives of the immortal dragons and their Masters.

=The end=

Patreon Exclusive: May 2025 II

Welcome to the Tickle Ranch

By KinkSaber

When he agreed to it, this was not something he could ever have imagined to happen.

He had a job. No. He had a whole ass career. He was a top level partner at a prestigious law firm. He had fought for years for the position. All of that, just like everything else that he was, was stripped from him in an instance.

It began only several weeks ago, when he met his master at the bar. Back then, his master wasn’t his master yet – but soon he would fall for the rodent all the same. What followed was something that he never even thought was possible – he fell deeply infatuated with the four-foot tall, soft spoken, but incredibly authoritative rat that would both break him and show him what paradise truly was.

The white rat had a name, but he never used it once after he learned of it. Master. That was what he called the rat. Master or Sir, and nothing else.

He, too, had a name; but that name was soon discarded. When he was around Master, he didn’t need a name. He didn’t need to be anything but Master’s toy, and he liked it that way. He was just ‘he’. When Master called, he came.

He was happy with the arrangement. He thought himself a stoic, unyielding, unbendable tiger – but all that facade was shattered the moment he heard the rat make his demands. He wanted it. He craved it. He wanted to serve Master in whatever way possible. Master’s happiness and contentment was his own. Twisted as Wonderland, the relationship was – but he yearned deeply to see Master weekend after weekend. It only took two sessions of bondage for him to be addicted, and hopelessly addicted he was.

It was so insidious. The rat was well dressed, as was he. They sat with two seats between them, and as they sipped their respective drinks – the tiger and his whiskey on the rocks, and the rat with a gin and tonic – they began to converse. The rat, as he learned, was a shrewd businessman with a silver tongue. The tiger was instantly entranced by the way the rat spoke. Softly, but commanded so much power behind that calm, confident voice. The rat did not need to demand, but merely said the words and whatever he wished for was acquiesced to. He was invited for another drink, and he accepted it before he knew what happened. The rat asked whether the tiger will be there again the next week, and he said yes – without thinking. The same thing happened in seven days. The rat spoke, and the tiger listened and answered truthfully. It made him feel good to make such a connection.

He returned again on the third week, and this time the rat introduced himself properly, and then invited the tiger out for another kind of fun.

“Something more fun than overpriced alcohol at the hotel lounge.” The rat said. “I guarantee you’ll like it better.”

That was how the tiger ended up naked on a king sized bed in the suite of a five star hotel, with the rat’s fist closed around the base of his tail, and the rat’s cock deep in his ass.

The week after, they met again – this time, directly in the suite, rather than the bar. He drove himself there and knocked on the door, at the precise time that they had earlier agreed upon. Agreed upon? No. The rat merely stated the time for the tiger to arrive, and the tiger followed cue.

The same suite, the same bed. The rat bought handcuffs this time, and the tiger was only too eager to try it on for looks. His arms stretched above his head and his legs spread apart. His face planted in the pillows as the rat thrusted into his rear. Helpless, but it thrilled him. The excitement made him more aroused than ever – more erect than ever. When the rat finished, he sent the tiger away without giving the tiger the pleasure that would satiate him. 

“And you’re not going to touch yourself.” The rat chuckled. “Come back next week and we’ll see if you deserve it.”

So he did, like the good kitty that he was. No text messages. No notes. Not a single word from the rat for the week, and the tiger showed up at the same time, same place. He didn’t even have to knock. The door was left unlocked for him, and he let himself in. No need to trouble the rat for something like that – let himself in, and locked the door behind him.

He should have known that there was something about the rat’s voice that drained his willpower, drained his mind. It made him susceptible to the rat’s suggestions; opened his eyes to a new world of submission. He should have understood that the sudden changes in his personality wasn’t natural – but he didn’t care. The tiger felt the buzz of a high, as if a pleasant dream had taken place. He acted as if it was something as simple as treading deeper towards the shallow end of the pool, both curious and excited for what may come; but did not realize that it was the ocean he walked towards. The unbound, unfathomable depths of the sea was what awaited him.

Still, he took another step towards the menacing rat that waited for him quietly and patiently in the same bedroom, who sat on the same chair across from the bed. The curtains were open and the tiger saw the nightlife of the city below. The lights that flickered and the sound of car horns that littered the road. The rat’s eyes darted toward the bed, and the tiger obediently stripped down and laid upon it without so much as a question or a word.

And so, the third week passed with not just cuffs, but leather harness, a riding crop, blindfolds, a red ball gag, and a cage over the tiger’s shaft that was not removed by the end of the session.

“Maybe next week, then.” The rat said as he closed the door. With only a crack left, the tiger saw the rat’s smirk. “Maybe if you behave.”

It had been two weeks since he last felt the rush of orgasm. The tiger became irritable. Just enough for everyone to notice the sudden change in demeanor, but not so much that he got in trouble for it. He wanted it, but he also wanted to obey his master, the rat. The cage was a silly thing. He could easily snap the cheap plastic in half with just a tug – and without harming himself, even. He refused, though. It wasn’t even as if it was locked. No. It was a cheap cage that opened with a little flicker. He had, in fact, removed it when he bathed himself – but as soon as the cage and his shaft was clean, he placed it on once again. 

The rat, of course, had no real concerns. He knew that the tiger would stay obedient, even without being constantly monitored. Such was the power of his calm voice.

Besides which, he secretly hoped that the tiger would defy him. It would make for such a fun time if he had a valid reason to punish his new pet.

The week went by as rapidly as the others. The only real difference was how much the tiger looked forward to the weekend where he would meet with the rat once again. Like the two weeks before, though, the rat did not give him the satisfaction that he craved; and like the two weeks before he was adamantly obedient to all of the rat’s whims. Not just a leather harness, but a full body latex suit that hid his fur and his face. He was bound in it for three hours and starved of attention while the rat entertained himself. When he felt the warmth of the rat once again, the tiger’s ass was used so liberally that he felt numbness between his ass cheeks. He groaned when he realized once again that the rat was finished and would no longer play with his body. The scowl on his face delighted the sadistic rat.

“Next week.” The rat said with pleasure and power coursing through his veins. He cupped the tiger’s balls in his palm and toyed with the sensitive organ. “Next week, you’ll have earned an orgasm – but only if you stay good for the whole week. I guarantee that you’ll have your mind blown.”

The tiger clenched his fists and left blue balled once again. 

It was Friday afternoon when he received a text message from the rat. It was out of the ordinary. The rat had his number, but never contacted him before. The tiger thought it was a scam, until he saw that message ended with a demand for him to be a good boy. He rolled his eyes, then wondered why he even entertained the idea. He would, of course, not know that the rat held no power over him unless it was spoken. He could have just as easily discarded and ignored the text message, but something in the back of the tiger’s mind had already taken root.

It was the seed of obedience that the rat had planted. So rooted was the idea that the tiger didn’t outright dismiss the text message. In fact, he read it three times over, and memorized the address that he was told to arrive at. For the first time since he met the rat, something told him this was a bad idea. He should retreat; cut his losses and never see the rat again – but his heart pounded in his chest, and the lust and arousal in his groin would not allow him to simply deny himself of the promised reward.

The tiger already made a decision to attend. His consciousness just didn’t know it yet.

—

There was something very odd with the place that the rat had chosen. When the tiger arrived, he found himself at a ranch. A proper ranch, surrounded by wheat fields. The tiger had once in his youth spent a summer at some wealthy circle’s lake camp close to a farm, and he recalled the smell. Oh, gods, the smell was horrid. He smelled nothing of the sort when he arrived. He should have smelled it from miles away. All that he caught in the air was the fragrance of wheat and chaff. It was also quiet for what it was. When he saw the rat at the front of what he assumed to be the visitor’s center, he quietly approached. The rat was, as he always did, in a fitted business suit.

He did not need to be told to follow the rat inside, nor did he need to be told to remain quiet in the rustic hallway. He followed the rat until they reached stairs that led downward, and they stepped into the basement together. The interior decoration reminded him of a cabin his family had owned. Somewhere by a lake in a vacation town. He didn’t like going there then, and he found even less enjoyment of the rustic theme now. The rat stopped by a door, turned the handle, and invited himself inside. The tiger followed.

“Aren’t you curious? You’ve been awfully quiet.” The rat said with a smile on his face.

The tiger didn’t answer. For reasons unknown to him, he found the idea of it appalling. He was fine with his silence, and the rat obliged. The door was closed and locked behind him, and the tiger, as if on cue, began to strip. He folded his clothes neatly and placed them on the table, and stood on the wooden floor completely naked. It was only then that he took a look around – and found that the room was made to the very likeness of the cabin that reminded of his family vacations; except through the windows came an artificial landscape and light. They were, after all, several stories underground.

“Eager to start, huh – it must be unbearable for you.” The rat chuckled to himself. “Either way, as promised, you’ll be rewarded for your good behavior today. Now, be a good boy for me and put on the latex suit.”

The rat pointed to a drawer against the wall. The tiger opened it and found the same suit that he had worn the week prior. He donned it, as instructed, and then waited quietly for the next set of instructions to follow. To comply. It only made him feel more aroused by the second – to be ordered around by the rat that was less than half his height and a quarter his size.

“Table.” The rat said and pointed.

The tiger felt the wooden floor under his soles with each step towards the table, where the rat sat. The latex suit only went down to his ankles and up to his neck, where a zipper closed over his caged cock. He sat on the side of the table, and the rat sighed.

“C’mon. What am I? A doctor? Get on the table.” The rat scoffed. 

The tiger lowered himself on it, his back cold against the tabletop; his arms at his side. It felt odd to be there like that. He’s never used a table as a bed before – but it was the rat’s demand, and so he did it.

That was when the rat flipped something at the foot of the table. Both ends, actually, and then locked it with a metallic click. The tiger looked down at his feet, where the rat now lifted both of those legs and slotted his ankles into a hole before snapping another piece of it shut to lock him in. He lifted his arms above his head when the rat made his way around, and likewise they too were locked into the stocks. The next item was a blindfold, then a gag in his maw. The tiger opened his mouth as wide as he could to accommodate the rat  like the good boy that he was. Then, a collar around his neck. Something through the ring, and the tiger felt a tug as the chain was wrapped under the table and locked together. He couldn’t lift his head anymore.

Then, he felt what he had been waiting for. The rat unzipped the opening at the tiger’s groin and handled that cock. Click, click, slip. The cage was removed; but in its place was something else. The tiger’s erect cock was inserted into something cold, soft, and felt like a tube. He would gasp, but the ball gag in his mouth was so far that it pressed on his tongue. He couldn’t even breathe through his mouth – and the rat liked it like that.

“Locked in, all snug, and nowhere to go.” The rat whispered next to the tiger’s ear. “Look at you. So gullible. So easy to steal away. It always makes me laugh when they come so willingly – to their doom.”

The tiger’s heart skipped a beat. 

“But you can’t help it? Can you?” The rat said. The same warm breath blew past the tiger’s ear. “Can’t help but listen and obey. Can’t help but fall victim to my hypnotic voice. Don’t worry your pretty head about any of this, kitty – whatever comes next, you’re going to learn to love. That’s all you need to do.”

The base of the tube tightened over the base of his cock. He was locked in. The tiger whimpered, but also couldn’t help but be excited when the tube whirled to life. His cock was stroked. Mechanically, but with how long he had been denied even the slightest pleasure, he had nothing to complain about. Not even the ominous words that the rat had just said to him.

He focused on the pleasure. The way his cock was teased and pumped; the ring of tightness that was like a kiss along his shaft. The gooey, silicone fleshlight that devoured his cock like a hungry slime. He felt shivers on his lower back, and he shuddered – then it was gone. Gone, just as quickly as it began. The tiger groaned with frustration.

“Easy, my pet.” The rat said. “It’s just a little test to make sure it works. I think you’ll enjoy this next part much more.”

The tiger’s mind absorbed the idea, like water to soil. The promise of pleasure took over any rationale the tiger had left, and he relaxed his body, until he felt the rat’s hand on his toes.

The rat had never played with his feet before, and yet for the last three weeks, he’d lotion them every single note before bed. Did the rat tell him to do it? He couldn’t remember. It was not part of his pre-bed ritual prior to meeting the rat; and yet the tiger felt compelled to do it, and so he did. It made more sense now if the rat had planted the suggestion directly into his brain. When did it happen? When?

“Yes..!” The rat gasped with delight. “They’ll do quite nicely. You’re such a good boy Such an obedient pet.”

The tiger was confused, but he soon brushed it out of his mind when he felt the rat’s hands squeeze and rub against his soles. Master’s hand felt amazing on them. The tiger purred into his gag. There was something that was incredibly pleasant with the rat’s hand toying with his feet. They were sensitive, and the lightest touch made him reflexively jerk his foot back. He couldn’t help it.

That only made the rat’s grin wider. The rat loved a good ticklish pet. The more sensitive they were, the better it is for the rat; and the tiger was very sensitive. The rat sat his rump down on the chair in front of the tiger’s soles, and nuzzled his face into the arches; his nose fit snugly between the tiger’s insteps. He sighed with content and used his fingers to lightly trace the top of the tiger’s feet. It tickled the tiger just enough for him to push those soles into the rat’s face. The pressure the tiger exerted was heavenly to the rat; like a toy that performed just as it was expected to.

Then there were the tiger’s toes that wiggled and clenched against the rat’s forehead. The way they struggled as the tops of both feet were relentlessly teased. The way the tiger flexed and arched his foot, but his toes still pushed against the rat’s face. It pleased the rat greatly.

So much so that the rat let his tongue out from between his mouth to give the tiger’s soft soles a lick, then the little laps evolved to nibbles on the tiger’s insteps. The tender meat tasted perfect in the rat’s mouth. He mentally gave himself a pat on the back for another job well done.

And the rat continued to lick his new pet’s soles. From the heels up to the toes, and suckled on the tiger’s toes while he scratched the arches, all just to make those kitty digits dance in his mouth, against his tongue, in a desperate struggle to escape. The tiger, of course, failed. Miserably, to add. There was no chance of escape now that he had been caught in the rat’s trap.

All of that was just an appetizer for what the rat had planned.

The rat retrieved steel cables, to which he looped around each of the tiger’s toes and pulled them back until they were all immobile and forced to spread far apart for his viewing and toying pleasure. The other end was attached to hooks on the stockade, reinforced by a steel plate against the wooden texture.

“Such a shame about your pretty toes, hmm?” The rat muttered. “They looked so cute when they were still free, but you’ll never wiggle them again – even if you crave for it.”

If the rat enjoyed watching them wiggle so much, then why did he tie them off, the tiger wondered – and again, the thought exited his head as soon as it entered when he felt the next sensation.

A hair brush.

Not a cheap one, he can tell. There was a certain sturdiness and hardiness to it. Even if it was just the bristles that glided up and down his soles, the tiger knew it was not a trinket that would so easily break – especially when the rat revved it to turbo within seconds.

The tiger screamed into his gag. Screamed laughter that he could not control in the slightest.

The bristles raked up and down those big, taut, defenselessly trapped feet. The rat laughed giddily as the tiger screamed, and he showed no signs of slowing down at all. The rat relished in the tiger’s madness, and the more demented the tiger’s muffled cries, the more delighted the rat felt.

Ah, yes. Nothing quite like breaking down a big, bad predator with just a silly old hair brush against their vulnerable soles.

“Hee hee hee! This is my favorite part!” The rat said gleefully. “This is where you lose your goddamn mind!”

The tiger heard the words, but didn’t have enough brain power to process it in his head. He was occupied by the constant and merciless assaults of the nervous responses that flooded his brain. Under the blindfold, the tiger’s eyes were wet with years, and through the gag his mouth was messy with drool. His feet were so sensitive, and yet the rat couldn’t give half an ass about his well being. The rat didn’t care. All the rat wanted was for him to be tickled.

“You’re not going anywhere. You’re never leaving, my pet!” The rat said as his hands moved faster, pressed the brushes harder against the tiger’s arches. “You’re going to love being tickled. Love! You’re such a pretty tickle toy. Hah! I’m so lucky to have found you!”

It felt as though there was a half second when his soles were left alone, but then the tube at his cock came back to life. As his soles turned a deeper shade of tickled pink, the machine began to whirl and stroke his cock once more.

“Ooh yes! Here comes the reward, my pet!” The rat practically cackled with wickedness in his voice. He didn’t let up for a single second. The brushes continued to violate every last inch of the tiger’s poor helpless soles, and the tube stimulated the absolute pinnacle of the tiger’s pleasure center as those soles were cruelly destroyed.

The tiger screamed, with ticklish abandon and with the waves of intense pleasure that he could not stop.

For someone with more endurance, they could perhaps last several minutes longer – but not for the weak willed, weak minded tiger. Not anymore. As soon as the machine came to life, so did his cock, and with only several strokes of his shaft and a mild vibration against his cock head,the tiger spilled all of his seeds. All the pent up frustration that was stored in his groin for weeks was coaxed out of his slit, and the tiger moaned and cried into the gag as his milk was taken – and collected in a container that he would not see. A bottle in the shape of a large milk jar.

The rat smiled when he saw how much there was.

But that wasn’t enough to satisfy his greed. That would be too easy.

The rat began to suck on the tiger’s big toe as a reward for himself – for the work he put into tickling the tiger. He dropped the brushes from his hands, for his arms deserved a break, too. He suckled each of the tiger’s toes in turn and tasted them for all that they had to offer, and when he was done he licked his lips.

The tiger took in breath after breath of cool air. He would gasp for it, but the gag prevented that. His chest raised and fell as the feline recovered, but then he realized something.

The pump on his cock didn’t stop.

The tiger whimpered with discomfort, and the rat took notice.

“You didn’t think that was the end, did you?” He said, as he pressed a button on the remote he had in hand. The pump on the tiger’s cock worked faster, the vibrations against his cock head intensified, and the strokes against his shaft had wild variations so that he could not guess which spot would be stimulated next. The tiger cried into his gag and tried to shake his head from side to side. He was helpless, and he was the rat’s toy. The rat’s pet. Maybe even less. Even lower on the totem pole. He was the rat’s thing.

From the second drawer, the rat retrieved something else – a buttplug of his own design. With it in hand, the rat pulled the zipper lower on the tiger’s crotch to review the plump, juicy ass that he would miss for the pleasure that it bought him – but he also couldn’t wait to send the tiger straight to tickle hell with the device in his hand. He retrieved a bottle of lube, and as he oiled up the vibrator, he nudged the tip of it against the tiger’s pink, sensitive hole. The tiger tightened it, and clenched his buttcheeks closed.

“Come now, pet. You know you want this.” The rat cooed. “We both know you want to resign yourself to be my tickle toy. We both know very well that you crave your ass to be used. You crave to be owned. You can’t help it. Let yourself go. Surrender your body to me. Surrender your mind.”

The tiger whimpered. All he could do is obey. He relaxed the muscles in his legs and consented to his own ticklish doom.

The device entered slowly, but every second was bliss. At its depths, the tip of the device found the tiger’s prostate, and it pressed snugly against the sensitive organ. The rat nodded, zipped the latex suit up, and pressed another button on his remote to activate the dildo. The buzz instantly made the tiger hard as a rock. Then, something else happened inside him.

Something like tiny prickles all against the fleshy walls of his asshole. 

Something that spin, and vibrated, and buzzed from deep inside him.

The tiger trembled, his body shook. It itched so badly. He began to laugh into the gag again when the device finished calibrating, and ran its programmed routine. Torque rings that were hidden in the device’s design began to turn and twist inside the tiger, and the tiny silicone spikes dragged against the tiger’s flesh. The tickling was so deep inside him that the tiger couldn’t help but burst out into fits of moaning laughter. He was aroused, kept erect, and he was tickled as deeply as his soul – and the infernal buzzing that teased his prostate forced his prick to stay stiff for the pump to work its magic.

He knew he was fucked, figuratively and literally. But he didn’t know how much until he felt the rat do something at the stocks by his feet.

Something heavy was attached to the wooden stocks. Something large. So large that the entire table moved slightly. He heard something snap into place, click into place, and then bolted shut.

Then, he felt something touch the soles of his feet. Something prickly against his heels, his arches, his insteps, the balls of his feet, and against each and every single one of his toes. The tiger whimpered. The laughter continued. The moaning continued. He let out another shot of cum, and the machine sucked it all up, collected and deposited it in the very same milk-jar.

“Before I completely destroy your mind, my pet, I’m going to tell you exactly what’s about to happen.” The rat whispered into the tiger’s ear. One of his hands was on his own cock, and the other stroked the tiger’s head as he spelled out the tiger’s fate for his new victim. The rat licked his lips, and continued. “I’m going to keep you here forever, and you’re going to cum for me. Again and again and again. You’re going to scream for me. You’re going to cry for me. But most of all, you’re going to laugh for me.”

The tiger didn’t understand. He was already doing all three of those things, all at the same time.

“..And those pretty feet of yours, well, they’re mine now.”

The tiger gasped when he felt the prickly things at his feet come alive. Brushes. Rotating brushes. The cruel rat was going to scrub his soles with a machine designed to drive him insane with tickling. Each of the brushes spin at a different speed, in different patterns. Diabolical. The tiger would never get used to it. He could never acclimate to it.

“And they’re going to suffer, because I want them to suffer. I want you to suffer.” The rat stroked himself, and he kissed the tiger’s cheek. He licked across the tiger’s face and gave him a kiss on those ball-gagged lips. His tongue entered what little space the tiger’s mouth offered and tasted him there. “You’re going to be tickled, and you’re going to cum. Endlessly. That’s your entire life now, starting this very second, my pet. Nothing you ever need to do again but to fill that bottle with your milk and be tickled for my pleasure. Even when I’m not here to watch. You have now idea how much it thrills me to know that those soles are never going to feel another moment of peace ever again!“

The tiger couldn’t help but spill his milk again. Before he knew it, he was hard again. His cock was raring to go as soon as it was emptied. The thoughts in his head left one by one. He couldn’t think anymore. All he could be was lost to the pleasure of his cock milked, and his soles scrubbed.

The rat finished himself off, and as he caught some of his own spunk on his finger, he wiped it just under the tiger’s nose.

“A little souvenir for you. You’ll have plenty of time to get used to my scent. Welcome to the tickle ranch. You’re here forever.”

=The end=

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=

Patreon Exclusive: April 2025 II

Emeralda, Firstborn’s Last Laugh.

By KinkSaber

The most beautiful and the eldest. Emeralda was the firstborn of all of mother Gaia's creation and the most revered among his kind. 

When the world was created, so was he. From barren lands beneath his feet sprouted grass, and from grass soon trees. The necessity of water bred the birth of Saphira, who took dominion over the great blue that she brought forth. As the water moved from sea to sky, over land, and back to the ocean, so was Rubius born of the mountains they carved. Last and not least, from the water deprived lands grew Ambros, who sustained life in the sun scorched Sandseas. 

When the elves were made, Emeralda was there to witness mother Gaia's second born. He raised the great Eternal Forests to give this infant civilization a home. When the dwarves were chiseled from the earth, he nurtured fruits to blossom underground. So did the sea plants and desert blooms obey Emeralda when the last two major races were created. Emeralda was the catalyst in everything that was and was yet to come. 

The Gem Dragon did not, unlike the others, hide himself away. He spent his immortal life in the presence of the others, who he took a liking to. In his infinite wisdom was the desire to share his gift, and so for many years he lived among the long lived elves and taught them the art of fire, the ways of earth, the dance of the wind, and the flow of water. Emeralda taught the elves magic, the power of life itself. 

From the elves you the dwarves, from the dwarves to the merfolk, and from the merfolk to the humans. The gift of magic was showcased, shared, and in many instances taken with force. Ancient secrets were unearthed and buried. Words of power changed and evolved. They were lost to the passage of time, and rediscovered across the world in time again. 

The Gem Dragon took on as many faces as the ages he lived. He hid well among the mortals, and did not interfere in their conflicts. When war came, Emeralda fled with the refugees under a dirty face and torn rag, where his old persona died and a new one was born. Sometimes he was a pauper who begged for scraps, and sometimes he was a trader backed by a caravan of horses and the spices they pulled. The only thing he never was, was himself. 

For a great many years, he had heard the rumors of the disappearance of Ambros. He was not concerned at the least. He sensed his sibling's power in the world still, and made assumptions that Ambros was tired of the noise. He made the assumption that Ambros merely hid underground the same way Saphira hid in the depths of the seas, the same way Rubius hid in the mountains. 

Then, a hundred years later, he heard the rumors that Rubius also had not been seen for a time. Emeralda sensed Rubius' power still, and did not concern himself with the petty mortal gossip mills. He wore the face of an aristocrat, and indulged in the finer side of the dwarven crafts. He sampled their liquor, which was clear and strong; much more so than elven wine or human spirits. It burned the whole way down, and if not for his draconic constitution he would have been knocked out after the first half mug. 

He travelled the world. When he "died" he left his mortal possessions to the quibbling of the friends he made. He found it hilarious that no matter the race, those he left behind always fought over the inconsequential, paltry sums of gold that he had to his name. 

Two hundred. Three hundred years passed. The mortal innovations excited him. Emeralda craved things that he had not experienced, for the new and unseen killed the boredom of the dragon's mind. It was five hundred years since he last visited Saphira that Emeralda craved the companionship of his other siblings, and so he sought them out. 

He went to the great Sandseas by foot, and found only traces of Ambros' magic there, with a hint of human magic that had mixed in the sands eons ago. He scooped a handful of it into a pouch, and began to walk north to the land of lava. Emeralda dived through the depths of the mountains, and in the place where he should have found Rubius, he only sensed the dragon's lingering aura, tainted by corruption of the power of life. He took an enchanted bottle and saved a small handful of lava, and he met the sunlight again where he last saw the sky. From there, Emeralda walked to the Oceanside, where he met with Saphira after a few short hundred years. 

He showed Saphira the bottle and pouch, and the two agreed. It was not normal for two of the Gem Dragons to go missing. Saphira returned to the depths, and Emeralda returned to his search. He sensed Rubius and Ambros still; but their powers were faint as they had been for a time, and it was not enough to track them down. When divine methods were not enough, Emeralda resorted to mortal ones. 

He went from one city to the next on the map, and travelled the world all over. Each time he sought out more pieces of rumors related to the two missing dragon's. The tales mortal tell were as grand and fantastical as always -- but two in particular caught his attention. Two mages who seemed to attain the impossible: immortality in mortal bodies. Emeralda was careful in his proceedings. He merely assumed that Ambros and Rubius hid among the mortals as he did; and to intrude on them would incur their ire. He first returned to the village of the mage's tower and lived there for a time, until three decades later he finally caught a glimpse of the famed name Escalion. He sensed the power of the Gem Dragon on the mage's breath, but it was not Ambros. There was, from the mage's soul, the stench of mortality that did not match the time that the mage spent in the world. Emeralda knew at once that Ambros' power had been misused. 

In the same manner the dragon lived in The Dungeon City for many years until the famed halfling Venescara made his appearance. Cosmic power leaked from the exhalation of the halfling's breath, and there was also the faint corruption of magic in the halfling's soul. The two powers tore at Venescara's body, but cosmic power repaired the damages as soon as they were incurred. Emeralda surmised that without Rubius' stolen power, the halfling would drop dead within half a year. 

But even with this knowledge, it was not enough. He had not yet discovered where his brethren had been hidden. It was clear that the mage's ivory tower was suspicious, but without his true form it would be impossible to intrude; and if Escalion had the power to capture one dragon, he would have no problem capturing two. The same was true of Venescara. There was no benefit to revealing himself to either mage in any case. 

So Emeralda's plan was to keep himself concealed; to hide in plain sight among the mortals, and to find an opening that would give him a chance to rescue the other dragon. He had consulted Saphira and nothing in the depths of the forests or the depths of the seas seemed to be of help. Years continued to pass, and he was no closer to when he originally began: there were suspicions and no proof but the scent of dragons that lingered on the mage's trail. 

The one thing about having many faces is that mortals are notoriously easy to fool; and what one heard and repeated to another soon became an unshakeable truth. Emeralda's many years of searches and questions led to the illusion of a number of people who were interested in the dragon cults, and his own curiosity were repeated back to him as the knowledge passed in circles. From the desert to the forest to the mountains and seas, people spoke of a sect of dragon cult who sought the missing dragons more feverishly than the others. Each one whispered of, of course, Emeralda's very own journey. So many years had passed since when he first started that the most recent news he would hear was of his open last visit, when he donned another face. Emeralda knew from there that questioning mortals will no longer be beneficial to him. 

He would have to seek another method, one that he had not prepared to. 

In the deepest part of the Eternal Forests, untouched even by the elves, Emeralda transformed back to his dragon self. With his own claws he plucked several of his own scales, which he then enchanted with his magic and with the cosmic powers inside him. These would be the most powerful artifacts the world has ever seen -- as bait to the mages that had captured his brothers. 

From a pair of his scales he crafted a sword, forged in cosmic dragon fire deep within the breasts of mother Gaia. He was a skilled Smith in many of his faces, and he put everything he learned into this blade. He took the perpetually burning sword and cooled it in the icy depths where the seven seas converged. He blessed it in the cavern where Rubius used to dwell, and the plateau of Ambros's resting place, and infused into it the last essences of both dragons. After fifty three years of traveling the world, the blade was completed. The dragon forged sword shimmered in iridescent light, and shined with all the colors of the living world. 

Meanwhile, he kept tabs on the mages who showed their public presence less and less as the years piled on.

Other than in the most remote of places, Emeralda did not dare to cast magic. He knew the mages would be able to sense him if he had done it too close to either location. He had not spoken to the elves as he used to, and he, too, was considered missing. The only other soul who knew of his plans was Saphira, conversed in dream talk. It would be a hundred years since they last saw each other when Emeralda received the news, and he would keep quiet, too. 

Emeralda bided his time. He used what he learned from the mortals -- that their hubris would be the end of them eventually. 

The dragon took another face. A half giant, a mix of human and demi-giant lineage. It was a large, strong body that he wore. He stood a foot and half taller than the tallest humans, twice as muscular as dwarves, and beautiful as elves. He made a name for himself when he claimed to have slain Emeralda, and the scale-sword was evidence. Forged in cosmic dragon fire in Emeralda's dying breath, he claimed, and he had stolen the dragon's name for himself, for he had bested the beast.

He executed challenges to the famed immortal mages, along with the royal academies and knights. He boasted far and wide and travelled the land as he slayed monsters using nothing but his draconic strength and blade. Soon, the immortal God of Swords Emeralda became a household name, and just like the Gem Dragons, fantastical abilities and traits were attributed to the dragon slaying hero.

And yet, the mages did not take the bait that Emeralda had set.

If only either had taken a single glimpse at the sword he carried, they would see draconic magic in it; or at least that was the plan. 

What Emeralda did attract were the criminals, the power hungry, and the politically impotent. They all sought to use him or his sword to further their own goals.

With a target on his back, Emeralda paused his quest and fled -- back to the Eternal Forest where he had a temporary reprieve from the mortal's badgering. He took a nap under Yggdrasil, the first tree that he raised, and slept under its shade. Once his eyes closed, Emeralda's body sank into a deep sleep, until he was awakened prematurely by a single human who he did not recognize. The dragon's eyes widened when he realized he could neither speak nor move his body. He was trapped, but how? 

"Good morning, Lord Emeralda."

The human addressed him plainly, but in his voice was some level of fear -- that whatever they did did not work. When he was not replied to, the human sighed with a breath of relief. 

"I suppose the magic potion did work, then, since I'm still alive."

It took the firstborn of dragons all of his magic to break through a single layer of enchantment, but it was only enough to move his human-lips by a half inch; and his voice came out as a whisper. "..Who are you?"

"Brionac, the thief." The handsome human answered earnestly. "My friend calls me Brio."

"... And what do you want with me, Brionac the thief?"

"Your sword. Naturally. I've followed you for months, so it's quite a surprise that the great God of Swords had not noticed my presence."

"Hmph."

"But there's something about this that doesn't add up. You are the real Lord Emeralda, aren't you? The very dragon that you claim to have slayed."

Brio drew air quotes as he spoke. The theatrics greatly annoyed the dragon.

".. And what gave that away?"

"The flow of magic.” Brionac replied. “It does not flow from your sword. No matter which direction you hold your sword in relative to you, the power flows away from your body. That only means one thing – your invisible magic must be denser than that of the sword, and as I have never seen you cast a single spell, I believe the reason your magic is denser than the sword, supposedly crafted from the dying breath of a dragon, is because you are the dragon Lord Emeralda himself. Many can see the subtle flow of magic, but none have observed you for as long as I. You’re not easy to stalk, Lord Emeralda.”

“..Heh. What a clever mortal.” Emeralda chuckled. Another layer of the magical barrier was broken, but the magic that the mortal had cast on him seemed to be thick and well designed. “Now, what is this magic that you have enchanted over me? I’d very much like for my body to be freed, Brionac the thief.”

“Yes, yes. Of course. Shall I be taking your sword, then?”

“Free me from this spell, and the sword is yours.” Emeralda sighed. “If you can see through my disguise, then the mages I hunt would have, too. I suppose my century of work has been undone and I must start anew.”

“..Well, isn’t that just the most interesting thing?” Brionac ran his hand through his short, scarlet hair. “I suppose you must be speaking of Lord Venescara and Lord Escalion.”

“Hmph.” The dragon tutted again. There was something uncomfortable about the way he was trapped in that handsome mortal body. Even though it was his own skin that he wore, the way the magic interfered was unpleasant.

“..You know, if I’m given a little motivation, I could be convinced to help you.” The human said suggestively. “I have no love for those two. No love at all. In fact, the potion I used on you was stolen from Lord Venescara’s study. Almost got caught, but I’m the world’s best thief. Hadn’t expected it to be so powerful, and, well, damn. Here we are.”

Those words made Emeralda snap his eyes open. He tasted the mana in the air. Slightly corrupted, yes, but there was also a hint of something else – the scent of Rubius was mixed in it. Rubius’ power was in the potion that Brionac stole, and that was huge. It finally dawned on the dragon that the mortal mages figured out a way to harness cosmic power, and it was not good news for him. There were only four sources of cosmic power in the world, and two of them had already succumbed to the mortals.

“What do you ask in return, Brionac the thief?”

“You could just call me Brio.” The human adjusted his cloak. “I dare say I am the only one in the world skilled enough to sneak in and out of the two mage’s strongholds. Venescara’s underground dungeon is especially tricky – it took me years to map the layout just to get there, and I barely escaped with my life. So, I will take your sword, for one – and your blessings, for another. I wish for the armor of a dragon, to defend against enemy spells.”

“..My blessings?” The dragon laughed. “Ah, right. The dragon’s blessings. I’m afraid that’s not based in reality, mortal. Your storytellers attribute to us dragons abilities we don’t possess. We can’t grant immortality, nor give you blessings. You can, however, have my sword. That weapon is based in reality, and, apparently, useless to me now.”

“Somehow, I’m not surprised. Disappointed, but not unexpected.” The red-haired human sighed. “I suppose if dragon blessings were real, then the Blessed would be all over the place.”

“And yet, you’ve never found one, have you? The cults love nothing more than to spread lies. I have been fooled by many of these stories, too, Brio.” The dragon exhaled the cosmic power that was bound inside him. He realized how fortunate he was – to be in the middle of the ancient forest, where his power was the strongest. The stolen potion’s effects waned on its own. He felt his muscles relax and his joints soften once more, no longer locked in place. “I seek to free my brethren from the mage’s hold. I suspect their powers are being misused by Escalion and Venescara. If you agree to aid my quest, without spilling any of my secrets to anyone for your entire life, I will give you the sword – and any other rewards I am capable of giving you.”

“No immortality or invincibility, huh?” The human chuckled. “Well, I suppose the sword and the friendship of a dragon is in itself reward enough. You have yourself a deal, Lord Emeralda.”

“Excellent. Now, I will need another day or two to recover my power. Come back in two day’s time and we shall begin our quest.” Emeralda closed his eyes and rested his head in the grassy fields under Yggdrasil. “Take the sword. Slay something with it. Familiarize yourself with its power. I expect it shall serve you well. It was, after all, crafted from my own scales and fire.”

—

When Emeralda opened his eyes again, he realized something was very, very wrong. More so than when he had been bound by a corrupted potion.

Had his senses dulled so much that he could not detect malice? His mind raced through the events once more – no. Brionac was a thief. Immoral, but he could hardly be categorized as malicious. Impure? No doubt. But as tainted as the human’s soul was, it was still mostly light.

Then, why did the red-head who stood in his presence reek of evil in his spirit?

The eternal dragon could not understand how the human had been corrupted in such a short time, but really, it’s simple: human greed knows now bounds, and it was only exacerbated further by the dragon’s aura and the power of the sword he had been given.

What Emeralda did not realize was when he forged the sword in cosmic dragon fire, and when he imbued the power of the dragons into it, that he had inadvertently sealed a small piece of his own soul in the enchanted sword.

Magic in its most base element was cosmic power, and cosmic power was almost omnipotent. Emeralda wished for a sword that would command the attention of his enemies, and the power of command dwelled subconsciously within it. Once the ownership of the sword traded hands, however, so did the command.

When Brionac first touched the handle of the blade, his body was filled with overwhelming power. He took it to the old trees and found himself capable of swinging the feather-light sword with little effort; and that the blade sliced through their ironbark trunks like a hot knife through butter. Brionac then tested it on the side of the mountains, where boulders were separated as if they were air.

The power went right to the human’s head. He felt more powerful than ever. There was a moment in which he feared how much of it he wielded. He wished to test it on something else, and he returned to the slumbering Emeralda to ask for simple spells flung his way. He wanted to know if he could cut the foundation of magic itself.

When Brionac saw the handsome half-giant sleeping, he was instantly taken aback by how attracted he was to Emeralda. It was, unknown to the human, the dragon’s aura of adoration that affected his mind. He had followed Emeralda’s journey for months, and when the dragon had full control of his powers, he kept his aura at a minimum – so that others only found him charismatic and charming at the very most. When he had been doused by the mage’s corrupted potion, there was a brief moment in time where his aura leaked beyond his control; and then when he expelled the rest of the foul magic from his body, an excess of his draconic aura, too, was expelled into the air. The air that lingered around the ancient forest. The very same air that the human inhaled more and more of by the second as he stood in the dragon’s presence. There, Brionac watched the half-giant sleep, and as he glared and sponged up all of the dragon’s aura, his adoration and zealousness ballooned.

The dragon’s awakening, too, was unnatural. It was not because he had recovered – far from it. It was because the human’s mind raced and obsessed, and his hand gripped the sword handle until his knuckles turned white. He wanted the half-giant, as he wanted the dragon. He wished for the dragon to awaken and see him in return – and the magic of the blade, the power of command that had been enchanted into the sword, responded to his wish.

The same sword that contained a fragment of the dragon’s soul, which put the dragon under the human’s power for as long as he maintained the ownership of that blade. Brionac wished for the dragon to see him, and so the dragon did – against his will.

The dragon was confused. He did not sense the corruption of magic, nor was he magically bound by the human. Brionac advanced on the dragon and in his greedy little human heart wished for the dragon to submit – and the dragon once again did. Even if his mind did not, his body fell under the will of the human that owned the scale sword.

Brionac knelt by Emeralda, and Emeralda sat upward to meet him halfway. The human embraced the half-giant, his mortal eyes lifeless and entranced, and their lips met in a kiss that fueled only the human’s physical desires for the firstborn.

While their tongues danced in a tango, the dragon’s body reverted from that of his half-giant appearance to that of his own – scales deeply green, lush and light as the rays of sun across the forest and the fields. He did not grow back to his titanic size, as Brionac never knew the dragon was tall and majestic like mountains. He merely desired to see Emeralda’s draconic form.

From soft lips to scales and pearly whites to fangs, Emeralda reverted his form and revealed himself in all of his glory to the human who had captured his soul. The dragon could not fight against it. Emeralda’s body acted according to the human’s hidden desires, submissive and dominated, as his physical form allowed the human to kiss him all over. From the lips, to his neck, to his bared, naked chest. The human licked against the scales that covered the dragon’s stomach, thighs, and then lifted the dragon’s foot until those draconic toes were at the height of the human’s face. Brionac did not think twice before he gave them a kiss, too.

It wasn’t enough. The human’s hand traced the dragon’s tails and wings. Though he was taller and larger, just about every part of Emeralda’s body was within arm’s reach for the human. Brionac tasted the softness and flavor of the dragon’s body, and his mind craved more. He could not easily stop.

The thing with mortal humans in this world is that their greed corrupted the very evolutionary lines in which they spawn, and that each individual action taken from the root of greed only served to amplify an unequal, greater reaction that intensified the greed of another. The humans learned from it, bolstered themselves with it, and grew until their greed knew no bounds.

And Brionac? Brionac was insatiable.

It was not enough that he had tasted the cosmos taken form; the very scent and flavor of eternity that passed his lips and danced on his tongue.

He wanted to subdue it, to make the dragon submit, as with all humans against creatures they deemed lesser. The sword would grant his wish.

Brionac stripped the dragon of the rest of the half-giant’s outerwear, and discarded them against the roots of Yggdrasil. The dragon could do nothing but lift his arms towards the human and bring him back for another kiss in return. The human’s hands continued to explore that draconic body – and in the midst of their passion, the human brushed his fingertips against the dragon’s ribs.

Mid-grope of the dragon’s breast, Emeralda let out a gasp, a shudder, and the slightest giggle from between his lips. That was not unnoticed by the sharp-sensed thief.

Brionac reenacted the scene, but this time his fingertips sought out their target with purpose. The human thief scratched his nails against the tender scales and listened for the dragon’s giggle. As he wished for, he received. Brionac smiled.

His fingers shot towards the dragon’s tummy and waist, where they abandoned the masquerade of grope and revealed the intention to scritch Emeralda’s body. Brionac grinned wider when he heard Emeralda’s ticklish yelps. The dragon’s body bounced and jerked against the floor, but even though Emeralda was far stronger than the human physically, the dragon could not bring his own arms down to defend himself. He was powerless under the human’s hands. He could only let out snorts of giggles and bursts of laughter between moans.

Deep inside, the human wished that the dragon enjoyed it, and the sword made it reality. The idea was planted in Emeralda’s soul, and the seed grew slowly – but it grew nonetheless. 

From the dragon’s tummy, Brionac reached for his thigh, the dragon’s knee, and then the back of his lower leg. The human made assumptions about the dragon’s ticklish spots, and as his mind conjured the imagery, the sword made it so.

The sword was bound to him, and Emeralda was soulbound to the sword. He should not have given it away. If he only knew the path that his mage sword had forged for him.

At last, the human reached the dragon’s feet once more.

He thought about it briefly, and the dragon’s toes wiggled on command. The curls and clenches made Brionac’s heart skip a beat. He could not wait to lay thick kisses on them – to show his love and adoration for the dragon. His tongue came from between his lips and he licked between each of the digits. Emeralda tasted fantasti, and felt even better when the softness of his toes pressed against the human’s tongue.

Brionac reached for the sole, which was high arched and tender. His fingers molested every inch of them as the dragon’s body willingly kept them at the level of his face. The dragon’s ass pressed against the human’s crotch while the soles were inches from his nose and mouth. The human grinded against the dragon’s exposed tailhole, and even though his pants he felt how complicit the dragon was.

Pure corruption took over the human’s soul. He could no longer hold himself back from defiling the dragon as he would another virgin human.

The sneak thief raked his fingers against the dragon’s soles while his tongue lapped at those toes. The dragon’s body shook, but the feet were held motionless at the human’s desired pose. Emeralda bursted into loud, roaring, draconic laughter as his soles were ravaged and teased and bullied by the human’s hand and tongues. The sensation crept over the dragon’s eternal mind, too, as the torment slowly transformed, as the human willed it, into pleasure for the dragon as well. From something that the dragon wanted to escape from, to something that would cause the dragon to yearn for.

Meanwhile, the dragon’s aura of adoration kept the human addicted to the taste and scent of his feet. The more Brionac lapped at those toes, the more he fell in love with Emeralda’s wiggly, squirming toes. It was a feedback loop that could not be broken.

From between the dragon’s legs was his own erection. The many years of mortal living taught him what it is, and although he never cared to indulge in it, Emeralda had always been curious about something that he could not experience. The corruption of the human, which had spread to the dragon, released the bondage that kept him abstained. The dragon’s shaft stiffened and grew engorged, the pleasure overwhelming for the virgin dragon. It was, for the first time ever, something that was too much for the dragon to handle.

In the dragon’s head, it was as if he was stuck in an endless ringing of bells at the grand cathedral. His head pounded as his ass was grinded by the human’s erection, while his soles were scratched, while his toes were slurped and lapped, and while his erection throbbed and twitched with intense need. Emeralda felt dirty, but at the same time everything felt so right. It was a primordial desire that awoken in him, a primordial need that all other living creatures craved for.

The dragon understood orgasms, but had never experienced it for himself. He had never wanted anything more. This was no longer about his divine duty to the world to sow life, but to satisfy his personal wishes, his personal needs. The dragon’s body trembled as the pleasure built in his crotch, and as the human continued to play with the dragon’s soles, the dragon’s cock was the focus of all of his vitality. Thick, juicy, and threatening. Brionac could not ignore that either. He kept one hand on the dragon’s feet while the other reached for the massive shaft, and began to stroke and caress it.

Brionac, as it turned out, was very skilled in the way of sexual pleasures for his partners. His hand was soft and his fingers dexterous for his job, yes, but also for his wild, adventurous ways in the brothels and whore houses. He cared not whether his partner was male or female, but prided himself that as long as they were under his care that they would have the best orgasm of their life. It was a boast that he had not been falsely advertising; and so the sneak thief used everything in his repertoire to pleasure the dragon the best way he knew how.

A stroke, a tease, a thumb that drew circles against the base of the dragon’s cock head. Between laughters were deep, guttural moans of a dragon that was lost to the pleasures of the flesh. Emeralda’s tongue hung from his mouth as a bitch in heat, and the dragon arched his back with empty thrusts in the air when he felt he got closer to orgasm. Brionac, of course, released his hand and focused on his own pleasure when he felt the twitch of the dragon’s cock. It was too early. He was not ready to let the dragon cum, yet.

His tongue returned to the arches, as did his teeth. He nibbled up and down the dragon’s soft arches, the tender balls of the dragon’s foot, and the heels. He bit them hard until the dragon screamed, and then he tickled the same sensitive spot until the dragon howled with laughter. He kept his tongue between the dragon’s toes while the digits wiggled and curled against them, while they squirmed in his mouth.

Brionac felt so powerful to have the Gem Dragon under his hand like this. The corruption spread, until it took over the human’s entire soul, entire mind; until there was little that resembled the human’s other desires. Where once there was desire and greed for gold and jewels, now only existed the scent of the dragon’s toes and the taste of those arches on his tongue. Where once the human was concerned about prestige and name, now there was only Emeralda’s love. The desire for a large manor was replaced by the desire to stay eternally with the dragon as his lover.

He grinded and thrusted his pelvis against the dragon’s bared ass again. It was so warm, so inviting. He paused his hands only to remove the clothes and armor on his body. Brionac kicked his boots off until he was fully naked under the sunny sky, under the shades of Yggdrasil – and he pressed his cock against the pink, hidden hole under the dragon’s tail. He was stiff, too, and his hardness pushed against the dragon’s tender flesh.

He kissed the dragon’s toes and suckled them again. His fingers scratched against the soles, while the other hand busied itself with the dragon’s cock once more, which stayed stiff and thick as ever. He moaned. Emeralda moaned. The two’s breathing were in sync with each other as their separate desires mingled and melted into one. 

Brionac desired to own the dragon, and the dragon desired to be owned by the human, too.

On again, off again, the human stayed there for three days and three nights, sustained by the dragon’s shedded magic and the power of Yggdrasil in the air. He kept the dragon as aroused as he could, then stopped just before the dragon had earned his orgasm. Three days of teasing and three nights of denial. The dragon was going mad. In his thousands of years among the mortals he had never been so frustrated, so limited, and so tormented – and Emeralda grew to love it. He loved the feeling of helplessness as his orgasm was taken away again and again. He loved to be under the human’s oppressive, devious control.

He begged. Oh, did Emeralda beg for release. He cried. Tears filled the majestic creature’s eyes as he pleaded with the human for a single drop of pleasure. He gave all of his dignity and pride away. Emeralda made promise after promise for whatever the human desired for, if he was only allowed to release.

Secretly, though, the dragon kind of wanted to be kept on the edge. It felt too good, too right to not be.

His mind slowly crumbled, from that of an old, wizen dragon to that of a mortal bitch. Memories of his brethren Rubius and Ambros soon faded from his brain. He did not care for them – or the world, or anything else but the love and the touches of the human who kept him and used him like a pet.

Emeralda craved for more, too. More perverse. More corruption. He imagined himself even more tightly bound – not just by the magic of the sword that controlled his body. When he caught himself thinking it, it was already too late – for the enchanted sword worked the other way around, too.

The blade echoed the dragon’s desires and, as with how Brionac seeded his desires into the dragon, infused the dragon’s dark thoughts into the human’s subconscious mind. The moon dimmed in the night sky, and Brionac began to desire for the dragon’s bondage, too.

He only needed to wish for it, and it would be granted ten thousand times over.

The roots of the Yggdrasil, affected by Emeralda’s cosmic power, came to life – and bound the dragon within its hold. The great world tree itself became the dragon’s prison, and there the dragon was slowly encased by the wooden colossus. Second by second the dragon’s body disappeared into the trunk, as if he melted into it, and soon the only thing left of Emeralda was his blindfolded, gagged head that protruded from the side of the tree, between his pair of soles that were only seen from below the ankle, and, of course, the dragon’s cock and ass below. Emeralda’s wings, tail, arms, and torso were otherwise fully hidden in the great tree that became as stoic as a statue once more.

Brionac wished for the dragon to become powerless, and that is exactly what he got. The great Yggdrasil’s roots coiled around the dragon’s body that was hidden inside its trunks, and from the roots it began to drain the dragon of his infinite cosmic power, at a rate that would eventually rob the dragon from using his gifts entirely.

That was, as it seems, not a care on the dragon’s mind.

Emeralda’s cock throbbed menacingly. Precum leaked from the tip of his cockhead, and dripped down the side of his shaft. The human licked his lips when he saw the dragon’s arousal and began to lap it up – while his hands were occupied with each of the dragon’s soles. The fingers scratched, the cock twitched, and another gob of precum trailed down the side of the dragon’s cock.

Brionac lapped it all up, without wasting a single drop. His licked down to the base of the shaft, kissed the dragon’s testicles, and then pushed his tongue into the dragon’s asshole, where he rimmed the dragon while the soles suffered delicious tickle torture. Yggdrasil’s roots extended to pull the toes back, as the human wanted, and then settled and became a prison for those digits – a prison harder and more durable than enchanted steel.

As he did for millenia, the dragon created life where he was – and new life sprang around him. This time, though, it was according to the human’s wishes.

Snake-like vines, semi-sentient, coiled around the dragon’s large soles and prickled them with its sharp scale-barks. Flowers, much like the insect-devourers, evolved with tongues to lap at the soles when the humans did not claim them for himself. Fairy sprites, born from the blooms between the dragon’s toes, spent their single-night-long life gathered by the dragon’s digits, and danced until the cosmic powers in their tiny little chests were extinguished with the sunrise. A new batch of fae would be born when the sun sets, and each of them would zealously adore the dragon’s toes as all fae were born to.

Above him were flowers with nectar that acted as moisturizers. Their sweet smell masked their deviousness. A single drop was enough to make the dragon’s soles itch for days. Emeralda’s soles grew viciously sensitive and helpless as the plants endlessly drizzled their honey nectar onto them. They droplets landed on the dragon’s toes, and ran all the way down the dragon’s arches until they pooled by the heels. Of course, the lapping tongues of the sole tormenting plants would evenly spread this around, where not a single inch was left untouched. 

Emeralda’s cock was, however, not tended to by the plants. That was a privilege reserved for Brionac himself. The human would rarely cease his lickle of the dragon’s shaft. The dragon’s precum was sweet as honey and fruit, and with each drop of it revitalized the human’s mortal body. It filled Brionac with a power unlike anything he had felt before.

And much like Escalion and Venescara, the greed inside Brionac taught him to guard the dragon jealously. The thief, who had all of his wishes granted by the trapped dragon, erected walls of thorns around the Yggdrasil to ward off intruders. The chaotic, corruption magic also spawned incredibly strong monsters outside the barrier, which served as additional layers of security against trespassers. 

Unlike Escalion and Venescare, Brionac did not leave Emeralda. He did not take a single step away from the blindfolded, gagged dragon. Not a single moment was spent where he didn’t touch the dragon somewhere – the dragon’s bound toes, trapped soles, exposed, aroused cock. Emeralda’s lips, where the human would kiss with just as much love and passion as that first time they met.

It wasn’t long before Emeralda became a mind-broken dragon toy. 

Laughter and moans. It was all the dragon was capable of.

His soles itched. His mind had been shattered. His toes craved for the human’s kiss and the caress of the human’s tongue – it was the only time where the maddening itch would pause long enough for the dragon to enjoy the predicament that he loved so much. Emeralda loved to suffer for the human’s pleasure. A warped love. A corrupted love. He loved being the human’s broken toy.

One day, he’ll earn the privilege to cum.

One day, he’ll finally experience what a true orgasm was.

One day, Brionac might finally be merciful and allow the dragon the pleasure that he craved.

One day. Maybe.

=The end=

Patreon Exclusive: April 2025 I

Rubius, Captured, Bound, and Tormented.

By KinkSaber

Some people say necessity is the mother of all invention, but the truth is that jealousy and envy are equally good motivators.

A hundred years since the last sighting of Ambros, the dragon of the deserts, few have not heard of the name of Escalion – the human mage who had cracked the code on immortality. With his craft practiced for a century, no other humans could stand up to his might. The four nations debated fiercely for many years on what they’d do with him; but it was all just talk. The humans refused to hand him over, with all the inventions that Esca continued to publish; and the other nations did not have the strength to force them. As time passed, the lack of innovation made them weak and feeble. The elves had already been conquered once, and they feared a second invasion of their forests would spell the end of them. The merfolk stayed deep under the sea where light would not reach. The dwarves, although fearful of Escalion’s powers, declined to impose economic sanctions with all the other players. Politics, as it was in every world beyond this one, an entirely useless thing.

And so other mages sought to imitate Escalion’s journey. Everybody knew – even without evidence – that Escalion the Mage had something to do with the disappearance of Ambros. Escalion was not an idiot, and he covered his tracks to the point of excessive paranoia. He built himself an ivory tower outside of the cities, isolated by the mountains, and enchanted it with the calamitic powers of the Gem Dragon than he had captured. He decorated every floor with gold and precious stones, filled the shelves with magic tools and potions, and plastered the walls with oil paintings by the most famous artists. He built wall after wall after wall to guard against invading forces, and his village was filled with simple farmers and villagers that only seeked for a quiet, apolitical place to live. A hundred years later, he was the lord of his own bustling township, and so long as the inhabitants did not bother him, he did not care what they did. The only real rule of the town of Escavarie was that none is allowed in the lord’s tower, which the villagers respected above all else.

Spies attempted to break into Escalion’s tower, and those who succeeded never walked out the doors. The tower, of course, was enchanted with a thousand traps that would shear anyone who entered into scrap meat. Escalion was the only one who lived there, and he liked it that way.

For a hundred years, the best spies and the top infiltrators tried; and for a hundred years they failed.

Soon, cults arose around the Gem Dragons with the rumors that they possessed the gift of immortality. It was not a false rumor, but a baseless one. The other dragons – Emeralda, Saphira, and Rubius all denied that they were capable of such things, but as far as their declination goes, many people – elves, dwarves, humans, and merfolk all in the mix – believed that the dragons wanted to keep immorality to themselves.

Escalion, in a hundred years, never took on a single apprentice of his own, which was strange for a mage and stranger for a powerful mage such as himself. Mages of all ages took on students to pass on their knowledge, so that the mystical arts would not be lost to the dwindling of time. Escalion had no such concerns, for the Milk of Eternity kept his youthful appearance and prolonged his life. Nobody had a single lead as to how he attained his powers, until decades later, in Oasis city, a mage by the name of Venescara took over his Master’s workshop. Venescara was a half-dwarf, and although dwarven blood was not magically inclined, his elven blood was. Venescara’s Master was a pupil of a pupil of a pupil of Escalion’s Master, who, after the ‘ascension’ of Escalion, only took on one more apprentice before he passed. The old man never spoke much of Escalion, and did not know the book that he had given to his student was still hidden in his small library of old books; and so the possession of the workshop and house passed from Master to student for many years until it had fallen into Venescara’s hand.

Unlike Escalion, Venescara – who went by Ness – was not interested in the pursuit of knowledge for the sake of knowledge, but had the fantastical  goal of surpassing the greatest mage to ever live. Ness was in such a cult, not because of his blind beliefs of unverified rumors, but for the habit of gossip whenever people gathered over drinks and a hot meal.

As far as cults go, though, pretty weird things happen in them.

Take for instance that Ness had never revealed himself to be a mage, and yet he ran into someone who claimed to be the great-grandson of a bookkeeper, who specialized in ancient tomes. The same person who Ness would run into over months and befriend, and who would freely spill his family’s history over the exchange of ale and buttered bread. As it turns out, the same person whose great-grandfather had done business with mages that worked for the king.

Ness would have dismissed the idea as just a telltale, but the idea was seeded in his head. Once he had recovered from his hangover the next day, Ness went to work on his new research project – to find Escalion’s Master and their field of expertise. It took many weeks to track down the information in the royal capital, and even longer to decipher the recordkeeping from a hundred years in the past; but when he had made the connection of Escalion’s Master to his own, Ness tripped over himself to rush home. The very home that Escalion had once lived in, that the halfling did not know until now.

Ness scoured over every inch of the place. His students thought their Master had lost his mind when they were ordered to remove every item they had personally bought into the building. It was a logical move on Ness’ part to lighten his burden. Whatever was left was already in the house to begin with. He reread every single book, every single manuscript, and every last scrap of parchment paper until he isolated only the things that had stayed in the house for a hundred years. He moved everything out of the living room, and filled it with the collection that he found. Everything that could contain a clue about Escalion’s rise to power was in there. He looked over everything twice, and as he started with the easiest to digest, the book that was gifted to Escalion was saved until the very end.

A hundred years of magical advancement later, the book that Escalion was obsessed over was even more outdated than when he had just received it. It was left to the end because Ness thought little of it at first. The end, because Ness no longer looked for another book after he began from the very first page. Most people looked through books with a quick flip that spilled forth its knowledge from the middle, which was what Ness did, too, the first time the book came into his hands. This time, though, he saw a little handwritten passage on the inner covers of the book, which simply read ‘To My Dearest Esca, happy birthday.’

Long has it been that those who called him Esca had passed away, and to the rest of the world he was known as Lord Magus Escalion. For Ness to come across this was a stroke of pure luck. Esca should have, and would have hidden the book better, but the human’s attention and care had long been warped by the dragon’s passive hypnotism that the very book that led him to Ambros had been put entirely out of his mind. 

This was the first time in a hundred years that a mage had followed Escalion’s steps exactly where he began. Though Ness was neither as talented nor knowledgeable as Escalion, he did have the advantage of time – a hundred year’s worth of additional magical research, fueled by none other than Escalion himself.

Ness began to decipher the book the same way that Escalion did many decades ago, and he came to the same conclusion. The passage that called on the Milk of Eternity was not lost to him, and at once Ness knew he had discovered Escalion’s secret. The Gem Dragon of the desert, Ambros, must have been captured by Escalion. He did not know how, nor could he even begin to guess the complex magic that was involved – but with this, this was enough to begin a branch of fate that would soon bring another dragon to their knees.

The halfling had specialized in an area of magic that Escalion himself wrote the theories on – the very basis of magic. Through many trials and errors, Escalion was the first person to publish his findings, which was that magic was a simple, repeatable phenomenon in which spoken words, the conjuration of mana, and in some cases a tool or hand gesture all combined to create a specific event that could be replicated exactly as-is. It was not just a formula, but a whole language unto itself. The chants that pre-existed were dissected and analyzed, and spells were mixed and matched to test the effects. In this way, Ness was an expert on not just analyzing older spells, but a spellcrafter of his own merit. Where a spell did not exist, Ness was most skilled in creating it from scratch.

Like Escalion, Ness buried himself in his studies, neglected his students, and it was another decade of incredible hard work before the halfling had come up with a plausible idea on how to take on the dragons. He had invented magic that targeted the creatures most beloved by Mother Gaia – the gem dragons. When he looked back on it, it was so simple. All he had to do was corrupt the very basis of magic, and the mysterious powers that fueled the world would no longer respect the immunity given to the Gem Dragons.

Ness spent another year of his life to plot out his excursion, and when he had gathered his tools and supplies, the halfling set off to seek the dragon he was most likely to meet: Rubius of the northern volcanoes, in the deep underground, ancestral home of the dwarves.

The northern lands were not unlike The Great Sandseas. The tundra was barren and impossible to traverse. Unlike the famed Escalion, Ness did not possess the magic of flight, and so the halfling traveled on foot. The way to Rubius was known – in the heart of the volcano in the depths of the mountain. From Oasis City, it took Ness a month to reach the dwarven underground cities, and from there it took Ness another month in his exploration of the dungeons of the abyss. Between wild monsters and the hazard of lava, a lesser talented mage would have perished before he even sensed Rubius’ deep red mana.

Like Escalion, Ness followed the rivers of sparkled red to its source, where soon it was apparent that the density of the dragon’s power made it an area even monsters did not dare to tread. The halfling swallowed his fears and continued to explore the lava depths. The magic current was strong and it carried the halfling; his heart pounded in his chest when he smelled the scent of sulphur and cinnamon. Ness layered one protection spell over himself after another, and with seven layers of barriers he still felt the heat of the planet, the father of flames – the Gem Dragon Rubius. He grew more excited with each step, until he reached a large opening under ground, where as far as the eye could see was a lake of molten lava. In the center glowed the dragon’s fiery red among the orange light. When he noticed his visitor, the dragon parted the lava and made a landbridge for the halfling to approach. Ness took the invitation to do so. He was nervous.

“Corruption.” Rubius spoke. “You bring corruption here, to me. Black magic. You’ve perverted the powers of Mother Gaia.”

“..Lord Rubius.” The halfling stood before the titanic dragon, and bowed. “Forgive me intrusion. I come seeking your wisdom and guidance.”

“I should purify you in cosmic dragon fire. Tell me why I should not burn your soul away in this very instance.”

“It’s Lord Ambros, my lord – Lord Ambros had been missing for a hundred years.” Ness came prepared. “He had not been seen for centuries. We have sent expeditions to The Great Sandseas, and none has seen his shadow. We fear something has happened to him.”

“Hmm..” Rubius temporarily pushed the corruption of magic away from his mind. The little mortal thing spoke the truth. He had sensed that Ambros’ powers wane and diminish over the last hundred years, which was something that had never happened before. His powers were still available to him, and he had not felt weakened. He had been curious what had happened to the other dragon, but he also sensed the Emeralda and Saphira’s power in their respective domains. If the mortals risked his life to come see him, then it must be true. “And what wisdom do you seek, tainted one?”

“..The power of immortality.” The halfling kept his bow and spoke the truth. “I am a mage, and in an ancient tome I have found a passage that described the power of everlasting life. It was a difficult book to read, and I suspect – I suspect the person who was involved in Lord Ambros’ disappearance was also after the same thing.”

“Of course. It’s always immortality with you mortals.” Rubius laughed, and the lava lake around him splashed with the fluidity of water. “Never satisfied. Never enough. Every ten years I receive a rare visitor and this is all you ever ask for. If that is your goal, I am sorry to be the messenger to tell you – you mortals are not capable of it. Your little frail bodies can’t handle cosmic power, even if I had the ability to grant you it. The truth is, tainted one, you mortals tell fantastic tales of us dragons. The truth is, immortality is a construct of your fear of death. Go home and tell your kind – stop wasting what little time you are granted on this foolish pursuit.”

“..Cosmic power.” The mage repeated. “So it’s true. There is a power that grants immortality.”

“Ah, you did not hear anything else I said. Cosmic power is the power of life, tainted one. The same power that you have twisted in your bosoms.” The dragon lifted a claw and pointed at the mage’s chest. “It has the scent of.. Rotten meat; the stink of a corpse. Nevermind your lack of affinity for it, now that you have perverted the power in your own body, I suspect a single drop of cosmic power is enough to destroy you from within. You have signed your own death warrant, tainted one, all to seek a fairy tale of your own telling.”

“Well, then I have nothing to lose, have I?” Ness chuckled. “Then, Lord Rubius – I apologize for any slights that I am about to give you. Allow me to test it out for myself!”

The mage raised his staff and stirred the magic in the air. As he theorized, the corrupted magic that he commanded soon ripped against the dragon’s flow of magic. Much like how he’d choke if water entered his airway, the dragon Rubius, too, choked when he felt the corruption enter his body.

The sudden intrusion of corrupted mana made the dragon gag, and in turn disrupted the cosmic powers inside of him. For the dragons, mana was like the necessity of air to the mortals – and even a single particle of corruption was enough to seize the circuits inside his body. It prevented the dragon from breathing fire, and as the dragon began to expel and purge it from within himself, the lava lake around them raged on.

“..Immunitas! Immobilas!” The mage chanted one spell after another; one to protect himself and one to bind the dragon. He continued to reinforce it with layers upon layers of the same magic, fuelled by the corrupted mana that he possessed. The dragon was a titan, and while he excelled at massive area-of-effect spells, it was an infinitely more complex task to purge only tiny amounts of corrupted magic from his body. “Imperilas!”

It was a losing battle for the dragon, who had never faced an opponent who commanded corrupted magic before. Even with his wisdom of the ages he could not keep up with the battery of simple magic being thrown at him, by the virtue that even a touch of the corrupted magic against his adamantine scales harmed the very core of his being. The mage’s spells protected him from the lava that was supposed to ward off unwanted intruders, and with Rubius’ attention all focused on purging the filthy, corpse stenched mana from himself, there was nothing the dragon could do to ready his flame breathe that could easily purify the mage where he stood.

As Rubius was weakened, the mage began a new onslaught of spells that would seal the dragon’s power. Runes drawn in corrupted mana surfaced across the dragon’s body faster than he could purge them. Ness chanted the spells over and over, drew over the runes again and again. Hours turned into days, and days into a week. At the end of seven days and seven nights of their battle, the mage was exhausted of vitality, and the dragon was bound to his flesh. His fire-ruby body was covered in scripts to a degree that he did not know how he could even begin to unravel the mage’s compounded, messy spells. His cosmic power was trapped inside him, but could not penetrate the barrier of corrupted mana that kept all of it within his chest. 

Rubius sighed. Defeated, but the mage didn’t exactly win, either.

“Are you satisfied, tainted one?”

“..Yes. Quite so.” Ness rasped his words as he laid on a flatbed of volcanic rock. The lava that surrounded him surged, and his very last barrier was about to shatter. The only thing that stood between him and the intense heat that would kill him on the spot. The air would fry his lungs and he would burn from the inside out.

Just as the chain of magic broke, the dragon’s giant hand swooped in and scooped the halfling from the lava that would have melted his flesh. Rubius lifted the half-dead mage to his face, and with an unamused expression, scoffed at the hubris of the halfling.

“You’ve trapped my powers inside me, and you are at death’s door. Was this the extent of your plan?”

“Foolish, isn’t it?” The halfling laughed meekly as he spat out blood. His eyes were heavy and sleep called to him. “Worry not, Lord Rubius, I did not leave so much as a scratch on parchment. No others will know of my methods. If they wish to bind a dragon, they’ll have to work for it, as I did.”

“That is to say, if I let you die, then there will be none who could unbind me.” The dragon muttered. Rubius at once understood that if the mage expired, he would have to spend a millennia – possibly more – just to untangle the mess that the human placed him in. He brought his claw to his eye and wiped away a small drop of tear, to which he forced into the halfling’s gaping mouth. The cosmic power that naturally leaked out of his body instantly revived the mage and filled him with more vitality than ever. 

Ness sat up when he felt every pain in his body cease. He looked at the dragon in disbelief. The dragon had just saved his life.

“You realize I am a villain, don’t you?” Ness asked. “Rotten to the core. And you saved me.”

“I take no pleasure in it, tainted one – unless you unbind me, my powers are sealed. It was a gamble. As I said, a single drop could have unmade you – but instead you are healed, so there may yet be hope for you.”

“..I doubt it.” Ness replied. He felt it. A stronger power dwelled inside him. It was ten times more intense than the strongest spell he had ever cast. It made him fearless, even in front of the dragon who could easily drop him in lava and extinguish his life. “But as you have saved me, I shall return the favor. I will unbind the spells that I have placed upon you.”

“And yet there seems to be a condition attached.” The dragon said.

“..Well, I do not yet know how to unbind you. See, my spells were all theoretical – it wasn’t as if I had dragons to practice on; but if you voluntarily come with me, I will devote the rest of my life to finding the solution.”

It was, of course, a lie. Lying and deception was something that Ness was skilled in, more so than magic.

But then again, what choice did the dragon have?

Either the lifetime of a mortal, or a millennia of being bound. Rubius sighed and agreed.

—

The Gem Dragon should have never agreed to the halfling’s deal.

He led the halfling deeper underground, further than anyone else had ever been before. Across giant dark chasms and lakes of lava, so far under the mountains and underground oceans that not even the powers of the Gem Dragons had seeded life into the great empty caves that were tall as the arcane towers and wide as the castle ramparts around their cities.

Rubius’ initial thought was to contain the corruption of the mage’s mana there, isolated from all else. Once his powers returned, he would incinerate the halfling until not even his soul was left – with cosmic dragon fire. Yet, even when they were lost in the womb of Mother Gaia, the halfling showed no fear – towards his predicament nor to the dragon.

Both of them planned on betrayal, and it was the halfling who struck first.

It was a dark cave, and Ness pretended to conjure spheres of light. He whispered a spell here and a spell there, and as he walked he lit up the paths that he strolled through. Rubius was distracted by the lit areas, and failed to see the formation of the magic circle that the halfling etched into the ground with the heel of his boots.

It was a simple spell, one that Ness had done many times in the past – when he went to hunt large monsters. Although he had never had to disguise it like this before, the dragon whose cosmic powers were sealed from him was made even more helpless once the array was activated. He began to shrink, from fifty feet to forty to thirty, until he was barely larger than a bear beastman. Rubius watched in shock as his body transformed, little did he know, the same way that Ambros was – made convenient and easy to handle. 

Ness swished his fingers and continued to chant. He conjured something rubbery that sealed the dragon’s mouth, as did his eyes. While Rubius struggled, his wrists were bound together, and his ankles, too. His tail was pulled back until something looped around it and attached to the nape of his neck. The dragon spread his wings, but felt something melt over them and sealed them shut – something sticky, thick, and bound them until they could no longer spread. Then they were forced to retract. 

Rubius shouted into the rubbery substance that perfectly sealed his mouth, and heard only muffled moans. The substance too, was enchanted, and took away his powerful voice. Cold, dark, and completely bound, the dragon began to feel fear for the first time in his life.

“..I’m sorry for doing this, Lord Rubius – but you are simply a specimen too curious to not study.” The halfling said with a quivered voice filled with excitement. He saw the dragon lesser than him – powerful, but wasted potential. He wanted to unlock the secrets of eternal life. “If a single drop of tear brought me back from the brink of death, Lord Rubius – what else can you offer? I simply must know.”

There it was.

The unshakeable pride of the elven blood, and the insatiable craftiness of the dwarven blood in Ness that spoke. He wanted to know, and not only did he want to know – he wanted to create devices to experiment.

Much like Escalion before him, the halfling did not know or understand the aura of the dragons – it was a passive power that all dragons had, just like the way they leaked cosmic power to seed life. It was a power that made all those in their presence adore the dragons; and the longer they spent there, the deeper the adoration became.

The difference was, Escalion was a pure soul, and Venescara was not. Venescara was very, very much familiar with the pleasures of the flesh and the sins of adultery – and he enjoyed it to the brim.

When he said the bound dragon struggle and moan on the floor, helpless as he was, Ness could not help feel the excitement of arousal as the thoughts and images of his past sexual encounters and escapades flooded his mind. There was the high elf that he spent a month with; and the human that did him favors in exchange for a potion here and there. He had it rough and he had it gentle, but most of all he had control over every last aspect, kind of like how he had it now with Rubius.

Whatever last shreds of respect the halfling held for the Gem Dragon soon disappeared, along with the cover over the dragon’s face. There was something indescribably exotic when he robbed the identity and dignity of those he dominated. The more socially powerful his subs were, the more excited he felt.

And, of course, who was Rubius if not at the very pinnacle of every hierarchy that existed?

The dragon’s aura of adoration gave birth to the mage’s obsession. The thoughts of using the dragon’s body came easily to his head. Ness’s brain flashed from one scene to another, and his eyes mentally licked all over the dragon’s succulent flesh as he feasted on the beautiful scales, the muscular body, and – Ness’ fetish – the dragon’s feet soles.

How daring.

How forbidden.

The halfling imagined how the dragon would react if he so much as touched the bottom of Rubius’ feet. The fantasy struggle excited him further. He gulped and took steps towards Rubius. Step. Step. Step.

Until he stood right by the dragon’s bound wrists and ankles. He did not know when he kneeled beside the dragon, but when he snapped to his senses again, he had already lifted the dragon’s feet to his face. He was merely an inch away. All he had to do was tip his body forward.

The dragon was helpless to do anything about it.

He took a shaky breath, inhaled, and smelled the wonderful scent of the dragon’s sweaty soles.

He studied the shape of the feet, and noticed the soft, high arched soles. They were pristinely clean, despite the walk through the underground. Not a speck of dirt clung to Rubius’ soles or between his toes. They smelled good.

Too good, in fact. A single huff, and the halfling felt himself become completely engorged. The hardness in his pants was impossible to deny. He took another whiff, this time he positioned his nose between the dragon’s toes.

Ness cried out in ecstasy as the dragon’s foot scent filled his brain, and was instantly addicted; the aroma was as if a parasite, with hooks and claws that took root in the mage’s head. Ness sniffed them again, more bold and daring on his third time. He pushed his nose between the struggling toes that pressed across his cheeks. Despite being the size of a large bear, the dragon could not do more than press his toes firmly against the halfling’s face.

Rubius shouted angrily into his gag. His voice was immediately muffled. Not that Ness would have heard him. No. The halfling was completely involved in his own world at the moment, and in his world nothing excited but the dragon’s soles and his own desires.

When he realized how tender the dragon’s toes felt on his face, Ness could not help but escalate his depravity. The halfling stuck out his tongue and lapped the dragon’s sole, which was about twenty inches in length, from the heel to the tip of the dragon’s sweaty toes. Once Ness had gotten a taste he wanted more. He could not imagine a future in which he did not freely lick Rubius’ sweet, soft feet. The parasitic desires burrowed its roots deeper and deeper into the halfling’s brain until it took over, until all that Ness saw, smelled, and tasted was the dragon’s feet – yes, the object of his absolute adoration and zeal.

The more Ness licked the sweat off the dragon’s pristine, perfect soles, the stronger he felt. He felt the warm cosmic powers in his chest, and just as the dragon foretold his mortal body could not handle an abundance of it. The mere traces that seeped through the dragon’s scales, that gathered in his tears and on the sweat between Rubius’ toes were just about the limits of what the halfling could take. Ness felt his energy and life returned to him – and even cleanse him of the corruption of mana that he had twisted himself. 

But that was, of course, not the focus of Ness’ desires.

It was the silky, creamy soles that he could not stop his tongue from pressing against.

It felt right, to worship the dragon’s soles, to drag his tongue across the arches and force them between the wiggly toes. To lap up every last drop of sweat, to taste and love them for what they are. To grow obsessed, to grow aroused, and to possess them.

It felt so right.

And there, in the depths of Ness’ impure, tainted soul, was the growing jealousy that someone else could come along and steal them from him.

At once he understood why Escalion built an impenetrable fortress, a magical tower protected by death traps, and how he threatened to annihilate anyone who even took a single step in it.

Ness understood how precious this thing in his grasp was, and he wanted to own them forever.

The halfling took inspiration from Escalion, and he began his work between the long sessions of foot worship he inflicted upon the dragon’s bound feet.

A castle, deep underground, built into the stone walls. Beyond the Dungeons of the Abyss, he built his kingdom with magical knowledge. The dragon’s foot sweat was enough to keep him young, keep his powers strong – and he took advantage of it. Brick by brick, stone by stone he built his walls. He walked over them a hundred times and enchanted them with just as many spells to keep intruders out.

Ness grew paranoid. He was a villain to the core, and he knew that others would stoop to his level, if not lower, to take what he had gained. He protected his pair of dragon soles jealously. Fiercely.

When his day of work was done, the halfling returned to the same magic circle where the dragon was trapped. He’d cuddle up to the bound Rubius, who had gotten used to being left alone for hours at a time, and then being toyed with for the rest of the night. Sometimes he would fall asleep to the feeling of the halfling’s tongue against his toes, and sometimes he would feel a strong, thick shaft between his arches. The dragon groaned. He had worked intensely on unraveling the corrupted curses that bound his power in his mind, but he had not even begun to isolate a single strand of straw in a field of bales.

When the tongue returned to his soles, it distracted him. It kept him from complete thoughts. It disgusted him to be used as a salt lick, a foot toy by the halfling mage. He had learned to be quiet, for his struggles and protests only served to excite the mage further; and when the mage was excited, the tongue-lashing lasted for so much longer, and it always ended up with that thick, hot shaft between his arches, and a splatter of sticky liquids against the soles of his feet.

The castle was built, and so the fortress walls, and the ramparts, and the towers. Golems and statues were conjured to protect the halls, to give it the life that it lacked.

Deep inside the sanctuary, the innermost courtyard was where Rubius was kept – like a pet.

Like nothing but a pet, chained to a post.

Another day of foot licking, and then something changed. Ness didn’t just go to sleep beside the dragon, but rather the halfling crawled between the dragon’s bound arms and legs, and nested in the warmth of the dragon. The next day, Rubius found himself on top of something softer. Smoother. It was the bed of a mortal, placed on the altar of the magic circle that kept him powerless, kept his limbs weak and kept him from even the strength to roll himself. He was less than a statue – he was a ragdoll.

He was alive, but he was less than a zombie. He was conscious, but he couldn’t even muster up the power to push himself off the ground.  Soon, his arms and legs were unbounded, if nothing else it was for the sake of convenience for the mage, who wanted to toy with the dragon’s limp body in different positions.

Months passed. Years. Day after day after day Ness soaked in the aura of the dragon’s power, and lapped up his flavorful soles. He only grew more obsessed, more possessive, more perverse in what he wanted.

The halfling worked on another spell when his mind was so warped that he thought he had taken the dragon to be his lover. He kissed the dragon’s sealed lips. Sometimes, Rubius would kiss back for the sole reason that he craved attention. Craved stimulants. He began to appreciate the halfling’s daily ritual of foot worship, as it was the only time he felt connected to the outside world. He had lived in solitude for many centuries, but it was only now that he missed the way he stretched his wings, missed the way he spoke with the spirits and the fairies, and learned of the outside world. Years of pseudo isolation, unable to see, unable to speak had left the dragon starved for the halfling's touch.

Sick and twisted as it was, the dragon understood it was not right. Still, he craved it.

The day to debut the halfling's spell came, and the dragon felt his body undergo another transformation. He felt something between his legs grow. It was sensitive, and it connected to the pleasure centers of his brain that he did not understand before. It was large and fleshy and made the dragon clench his toes when touched. He rarely made a noise anymore, but the way the halfling handled the dragon’s brand new cock, it made him moan with diseased pleasure. It plagued Rubius’ mind. As a Gem Dragon, he was not equipped with such a mortal thing – and now that he’s been given one, it consumed his mind every second that it was touched.

The shaft grew, as did testicles; and inside the dragon’s groin a prostate that throbbed, as starved for attention as the dragon was. It was a new organ to the dragon, and although he understood the textbook facts of mortal biology, the first person experience was an entirely new chapter that he had no knowledge of.

Rubius felt the halfling’s hand press on the sensitive spot under the base of his shaft, between his nutsack and his butthole. His entire body quivered and shook when he felt the surge of pleasure that emanated from it. Another lusty moan. No, not moan. Growl. It was a bestial and primordial growl; from a beast that had not been tamed.

Ness kissed the dragon through the thin latex muzzle, and the dragon quickly kissed back. His lips nibbled together, desperate and horny, for the feeling of the halfling’s lips against his own made him crave more. More than he ever wanted before.

Rubius felt delirious. Ridiculous. He felt the arousal burn from his groins. Even when Ness had retreated from the area, he still felt the eroticism from it. While Ness resumed his daily foot worship, each touch of the halfling’s tongue against the dragon’s sole, between the dragon’s toes, it made Rubius hard. The dragon’s cock throbbed and twitched for the attention that was temporarily neglected. The dragon howled from his throat. All Ness heard was the desperation of a dragon that needed several years of being broken in. Yes. He loved his dragon so dearly.

Days? Weeks? Another indeterminate amount of time passed. Rubius could not keep track, not with the constant throbbing cock that absolutely decimated his mind. He had long since stopped the progress of unraveling the mage’s spell. It was impossible.

When the halfling was in his presence, Ness would constantly toy with his dick and balls while those dragon soles were slurped. The halfling would whisper sweet nothings and tell Rubius how amazing those soles tasted. The dragon was lewd, but the halfling was lewder. Ness always seemed to know exactly when the dragon was close to orgasm, and abandoned the cock and balls that ached for release in favor of the soles that needed licking.

With endlessly edged pleasure, the dragon was slowly being trained to perform all the acts that Ness wanted.

Rubius learned to spread his toes and not curl them. Every time he hid those toes from his Master and Lover, the strokes of his cock would stop until the very next day. The dragon knew to obey the halfling, and offered up his toes to be licked and suckled.

Ness loved the curves that the dragon’s high arches offered, and so Rubius learned to arch his soles. Ness wished to be acknowledged when his presence was known, and so Rubius learned to wiggle and fan his toes for his Master.

The once quiet dragon gasped and panted though a small slit that was cut in the gag. Not enough to speak, but enough to make the noises of a whore when his soles were licked. Not because he volunteered for it, but because the halfling’s tongue against his helpless, submissive soles felt so fucking good to his dick.

More time passed, and the slit on his gag was cut wider still. His mouth was used. Trained by the halfling. When Ness did not fuck the dragon’s soles, which was a rarity in itself, he would use the dragon’s mouth. At first Rubius found it repulsive, but he grew used to the scent and flavor of his Master’s cock. He eagerly lapped and drooled when the halfling’s cock was inserted. While he sucked on the cock, Ness would use his feet to trample and toy with the dragon’s stiff, throbbing shaft. The sound of the desperate dragon’s need to cum always pushed Ness over the edge in seconds. When Rubius swallowed every last drop of the halfling’s seed, he would be rewarded with a kiss – and his soles would be rewarded with several more hours of being licked and loved.

Loved, obsessively – but not his cock. Never his cock. Never his goddamned cock.

Rubius could not guess that Ness did, in fact, have full control of it. It was the halfling’s spell that brought it into existence, after all; and Ness was just fine with keeping the dragon squirmy and tormented and a horny, broken toy.

He was a villain, after all. The halfling laughed to himself as he thrusted his cock between the dragon’s high, tender arches. He watched the dragon’s toes dance for him, spread and wiggled for him. He listened to the dragon moan and cry and howl with what he assumed to be desperate pleas for release. He watched the dragon buckle his hips against the soft bedding. Ness teased him and placed a downy pillow between the dragon’s cock and the mattress. It gave him such great intense pleasure to simply rub against. He came all over the dragon’s soles and left the mess there. Ness leaned into the dragon’s face and kissed that latex covered mouth; and through the open slit he pushed his tongue to lick the dragon’s teeth. His kiss was met with Rubius’ moan and a kiss in return.

“Such a good boy. Always so eager to have your delicious soles marked by my seed.” The halfling said as he held the dragon in his embrace. He dry humped the dragon’s hips, with the pillow between him and the dragon. He pushed his groin against Rubius, and he did not stop.

The dragon’s moans became louder. Tears streamed from under the dragon’s blindfolds. Rubius felt such pleasure that he had never had before. His entire shaft was stimulated, toyed with, and just when he felt he was about to finally go over the edge –

He didn’t.

The mage continued to hump, and the dragon continued to howl. He could not. He felt the throb of his prostate, which hungered to be pressed against the same way the mage’s tongue pressed against his soles. The dragon felt his asshole itch; empty, and it craved to be filled. He wished that the halfling would fuck his ass rather than his soles or mouth.

He felt the halfling’s fingers tear through the latex slit as he was humped.

For the first time in decades, his maw was freed, and all he could do was continue to moan and grunt like an animal. Like a well kept, well trained pet, he did not speak without being spoken to.

“Tell me what you want, my love. My love, Rubius. Tell me.” The halfling coaxed.

“M-my..!” The dragon rasped. He had not heard his own voice in such a long time that he found it foreign. It didn’t matter. He didn’t need to recognize himself. He was the mage’s pet, after all. The mage’s love. “Empty..! Empty..! Fill.. me!”

“My naughty, filthy Rubius..!” Ness kissed the dragon’s mouth. It was the first kiss against the dragon’s lips, and Rubius could not wait to return it. It was a savage, sloppy kiss, and the dragon moaned into the halfling’s mouth the entire time. “Tell me all the dirty things you want to do.” 

The halfling embraced the dragon in his arms, and the dragon cried.

“..My.. my ass! My.. cock! Needy.. Need!” Rubius spoke with words as broken as his mind. He had been in such deep desires for so long. “Love..! Love me!! Fill me..!”

“My horny Rubius..!” Ness reached for the dragon’s cock with a hand, and the dragon’s ass with the other. The halfling touched the rim of the dragon’s hole and circled his finger around the pink, sensitive spot. “Do you want to be touched here?”

“YES! YES! IN – INSIDE! DEEP INSIDE!” The dragon demanded. Begged. Dignity be damned. Pride be damned. He needs to be fucked. “NEED..!! NOW..!! FUCK ME!!”

The halfling inserted his finger into the warm, wet hole. The dragon had been ready for a long time, and it was easy to slip it deeply until he reached the prostate. Ness rubbed against it teasingly before he pulled it out, to which the dragon just about had a meltdown. 

“NOO!! MORE!!” The dragon sobbed. “PLEASE!! PLEASE!! I NEED – NEED IT!! NEED IT!!”

“Oh, but my beloved Rubius..!” The halfling chuckled. “I have told you – many, many, many years ago – that I was a villain.. And Villains, we don’t do nice things out of the kindness of our hearts!”

“Please! Please!” The broken dragon begged. “Anything! I need – please fuck me! Fuck me!”

“I am going to tease and torture you for ages to come, my love, my prisoner, my Rubius..!” Ness rubbed his finger across the dragon’s lips and resealed Rubius’ mouth in latex. “But for now, I want you to stay horny. I want you to be tortured. I want to sleep next to you knowing that you are my helpless little toy.”

“MMFF!! MMPHHFF MMMMMMMMM!!”

“..And tomorrow, I’m going to train you all over.” The halfling kissed against the dragon’s latex-covered lips. A desperate nod from the dragon to kiss the halfling back. Rubius wanted to please his Master so much. So much. “Ah, yes. I think – tomorrow, I’ll train you to speak again, from the very first words. Tomorrow, I think I’ll teach you how to properly beg – beg me to suck on your tasty, sweaty dragon toes.”

Rubius’s cock throbbed at the prospect that the halfling’s tongue would be between them. Even when Ness wasn’t by his feet, those tasty, sweaty dragon toes spread wide open, as if they anticipated a tongue to worm between them any time now.

Maybe one day Rubius would be as fortunate as Ambros – to become the mage’s personal milking toy. Maybe.

For the foreseeable future, though, he was the villainous halfling’s broken dragon, and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

=The end=

Patreon Exclusive: Mar 2025 II

Ambrosia, the Milk of Eternity

By KinkSaber

Ambros was as proud and egoistic as any Gem Dragon could be. He was beautiful to a fault, his scales shined with the brilliance of golden honey, and his figure was bulky, strong, and radiated with power that drew the adoration and awe of anyone who laid eyes on him. Underneath his healthy scales were muscles that could crush boulders and mountains, and in his head was ancient magic that not even the best of mages could hope to reproduce in ten lifetimes. 

In this world, Gem Dragons were worshipped as gods, and for good reason. Each one was powerful enough to cause the lands around them to grow into paradise with just their presence. Emeralda of the eastern forest provided the elves with bounties the world would not find elsewhere. Saphira of the western oceans ensured the regional seas breamed with life for the merfolk. Rubius of the northern volcanoes provided the dwarves vast riches of metal from the mountains.

Then, there was Ambros of the southern deserts, whose power maintained the oasis in the inhospitable lands of sand and gust. The humans were, of course, grateful – but had always been jealous of the uncountable blessings of the other three nations. They took the fruits and meat of the forests, the fish and pearls of the seas, and the metal and gems of the mountains – to enrich themselves. The deserts and barrenlands remain uncultivated, and time passed.

What the elves, the merfolk, and the dwarves had, what they were given freely, it made them complicit. Lazy. Not in labor, but in innovation. For humans, who were given a short lifespan to live in the drylands of rock and sand, they had to be crafty. The environment pushed their evolution – and, of course, their greed.

Yes, greed.

Their insatiable desires for more was the main driving force behind the uprising of the human nation. A thousand years passed, and the tree-dwellers had invented uses for fire and built mud-huts. Another thousand years, and they have evolved into settlements, protected by tree trunks painted by black tar. Another thousand years, and they have formed large settlements with intricate road systems between human cities – and the other three nations. When the settlements were self sustaining, they moved on to less physical things – the knowledge of magic. They developed theories of magic and tested the application of spells. They took the powers of the world and molded it in their hands. Took the very life of the planet and the very powers of creation and mashed them together until something worked in a way they deemed useful. They learned. Improved. At rates that surprised even the long-lived elves. 

The Gem Dragons did not so much as glance their way. They were still very insignificant things; like bacteria to intelligent, sentient life. Ambros, in particular, slept for hundreds of years at a time, and only interacted with humanity on whims of entertainment.

And then another thousand years passed.

Beyond magic, humans invented science. Explanations of how the world worked. Science. Math. Physics. In addition to magic, the knowledge accumulated in humans was extremely powerful.

While the elves, the oldest of them, who had seen humans as nothing more than slightly humorous monkeys, had fallen behind in keeping their traditions alive. The oldest of them saw human knowledge as folly, foolish, and a waste of eternal time. They were the first to fall when the humans brought war upon the elven forests; with machines that spat hundreds of tonnes of metal, while protected by magical shields.The merfolk, too, were driven to the depths of the seas when the oceans were polluted beyond the powers of Saphira’s purification. The dwarves, innovative and opportunistic, however, became humanity’s best trade partners. When the war between nations were settled, humanity turned their eyes onto their benefactors – the Gem Dragons.

The first on their list was Ambros, who they had ungratefully attributed humanity’s misfortunes due to his meek blessings.

But the dragons were giant, powerful, and their scales were tougher than any materials that could be found on mortal lands. Humanity was stumped, and in time, most of them had given up the subjugation of the living deity that walked among them. Their civilization grew prosperous, advanced, and gave rise to people who grew dissatisfied with the gap between the wealthy and poor. People who sought ways to bridge the gap. People who looked into older methods, ancient magic that could grant their wish.

People like Escalion. 

Escalion was an orphan of war, a victim of the conflict between humans and elves. He knew no family, and from a young age had learned to fend for himself. Escalion – or Esca, to his friends – grew up in the orphanage-slums of Oasis City, where it was said to be the first and largest human settlement.

But Esca was special in ways he did not know.

Esca was born with magic in an age where almost all people had lost the spark of the world. It was not until he turned twelve that a passing mage – one that Esca had hoped to rob – sensed the rare twinkle in Esca’s soul that he forcibly adopted the street urchin, and taught the boy to read and write in exchange for food, clothes, and a roof over his head. It was hard work for the both of them – for Esca to learn to trust, and for the mage to learn to handle a wild, feral cat like Esca. Days, weeks, months. It was two years before Esca had finally put the dagger he hid under his pillow into the drawer of his bed stand. The orphan’s gaze softened, and while he continued to question the man on many things, he no longer did it with suspicious hostility. Soon, they were even comfortable with minor spats that were familial to the orphan’s mind.

“Onion soup? ONION SOUP?! How many times do I have to say this, old man – I HATE onions!” The young adept, who was at first both hostile, untrusting, and shy, now unreservedly demanded his meal be replaced by the mere presence of that white and purple vegetable. “If I can memorize three books a day, you can remember the one thing I hate!”

“And as I’ve said, Esca – onions are good for you.” The Master chuckled at his apprentice. “You do understand that just because your name sounds like scallions, doesn’t mean you can’t enjoy them?”

“Aargh!” The young adept cried. “I hate them! Hate!”

“Too bad. I’ve purchased a grate of them at the market.” The Master laughed heartily. “It will be onions for a week. Eat, or starve. The servants will not complain of your leftovers, boy.”

“Ugh..!! Fine!”

The ‘old man’ of forty, as it turned out, was a royal magus in the employ of the king. He had neither prestige, achievements, nor renown – but he was a mage, and a pretty damn good one at that. He lived comfortably enough that he had some savings in the banks, but not so much that he could afford extravagance for the young apprentice he adopted. When he was summoned to the courts, he brought Esca with him – and in place of being bullied by violent street gangs over resources for survival, Esca was bullied by the children of the upper echelons of society – over his unremarkable grey cloak, his messy hair, and his undecorated boots that had been worn for four seasons.

As it were, he did not spoil his apprentice, but held him to standards that would put even royal tutors to shame. He saw the potential in Esca’s magic, and refused to give in to any unreasonable demands made of him. The food was filling, but not extravagant. The clothes were warm, but not trendy or fashionable. Esca was given a small allowance to learn about money, and so he gained a degree of freedom that he did not know before. Still, the pittance that he was given, and the boots that he had painstakingly saved up many months for, was easily sneered at by the minor nobilities. It wounded the young Esca deeply. It taught him to control his emotions, to mind his manners, and to not show weakness.

But more importantly, it fuelled Esca’s desires to climb up from the pit of poverty, and human desires – Esca’s desires – was the driving force that soon will change the world.

When Esca reached adulthood, he passed the day unceremoniously – with stale cheese, dry bread, and a thick milk stew, much like any other day. He was engrossed in studies, but it was on his birthday – or rather, the official anniversary of his adoption – that his master passed to him a grimoire.

In this grimoire were spells and magical theories not yet proven, not yet made applicable. Equations went unsolved, and hypotheticals too wild and foreign for the larger academy to accept as a research basis. Not for Esca, though. He treasured the grimoire. It was the one and only valuable item that he had ever received that he could call his own. The day he turned into an adult, at the age of twenty, was the day that his life would change.

Page after page of incomplete magical knowledge filled his head. Page after page of broken formula, incorrectly calculated. Esca put them in the right place. He drew on fresh parchment a copy of the old diagram, and then with a different ink he drew over them. He deciphers ancient manuscripts that were passed down, but in languages that had long been discarded.

But Mage Tongue – magic never went out of fashion. Spells were woven in magic, and Esca knew that. He translated the pages piece by piece, letter by letter – from ancient scribbles and partial spells into the language of magic, and back again into ordinary Common Tongue. From there, he made a discovery – of a line that was referenced nowhere else. The secrets to immortality lie in the Gem Dragons.

And then, as with the hundreds of thousands of people who lived in the many eras of Humanity before him, Esca became obsessed with the idea of immortality.

The elves lived for thousands of years. The dwarves lived for hundreds. The merfolk were said to grant humans prolonged life with their tears or flesh or blood. There, in the book, was an ancient passage, long since forgotten, about the Milk of Eternity, given by the bosoms of Mother Gaia’s first children – the dragons who wandered the lands.

Esca looked at his notes, memorized the passages, and then when he was certain he would never forget a single letter of the passage, he hid the grimoire in his Master’s library amidst an ocean of books, and burned his parchments to the last piece.

He planned. In his head, he made detailed plans to test this theory. From the ancient spells he crafted new ones – not powerful spells, but useful. He learned about the properties of metal and gems, and apprenticed under his Master’s friend, a veteran of Magicraft, under the guise of expanding his knowledge. He learned curses from a witch. He soaked in the knowledge of creature handling from the royal stables. He spent the next five years under the boot heel of the rich noble’s adult children in exchange for the equipment of knowledge – and ancient secrets that the nobles were easily manipulated into boasting of. 

Esca was ready.

He set off while the sun was still yellow as a yolk. For the now full-fledged mage, a flight across the desert was no difficult task. An air barrier protected him from the gusty winds and a simple misty spell kept him cool under the blazing sun. He flew eastward from Oasis City, past the smaller towns and villages that surrounded it, until he arrived at The Great Sandseas where Ambros is said to slumber. It was golden sands as far as the eye could see, and at the very edge of the road he had passed hours ago was a single warning to not venture further. The mage landed and felt the energy flow of the land. He had trained so much that mana had been visible to his naked eye, and from under the dunes he saw the rivers where the power converged and cycled – the heart of Ambros.

When he saw the glitter, it became obvious to him where he must go, and so he continued to fly towards the flow of mana. The smaller streams joined together as the distance between him and Ambros shrunk, and became raging rapids of power. Sandstorms. Heat waves. The dragon’s flow of energy manifested in miniature forms of natural calamity. Esca easily passed through them with his protection spells.

And then, in the very heart of the desert, there stood a plateau above The Grand Sandseas.

From afar, Esca saw a bright glimmer that looked as if the sun itself had reflected into his eyes. He knew he had found the Gem Dragon, and sped towards it. He landed at the edge of the hallowed ground, and took in the massive sight of the dragon. Ambros was huge. He knew from the texts that the Gem Dragon was a giant, but now that he stood in front of Ambros he suddenly felt very, very small. 

Ambros was easily fifty feet tall when he laid down.

There was a moment where he wavered, and wondered if he could tame the herculean beast. Esca exhaled in awe.

No, he must be, or he’d have come all this way for nothing. He’d have come all this way to die. He refused to be simple human refuse. He was so much more.

The dragon slept cozily, ignorant of the human that approached him. Esca took the time to set up his camp – a miniature laboratory – from his magic bag. 

It was an old leather messenger bag that he had purchased from the second hand store. He enchanted it himself, with a variety of space magic, to allow the bag to become a near-infinite inventory that weighed no more than the bag itself. When his Master discovered what he had done, the old man simply shook his head and rolled his eyes, and then told him to not reveal such crafts to society at large. Secretly, Esca knew his Master was proud of him.

It was a simple camp, made of cheap pieces of canvas sewn together by hand, and propped up by rusty metal poles. From the outside, it was only big enough for Esca to lay down if he bent his knee while he slept; but like the bag the inside of that tent was much larger. Not fancy, simply larger than what it appeared to be on the outside.

Covered in old rugs and held together by almost-rotting twine, it was far from the glamour that one would have expected from the apprentice of a royal magus – but Esca had long ago learned the importance of function over fashion – and this tent was very, very functional. It was not just a camp, nor was it a tent – it was a pocket dimension weaved into the fabrics of the canvas itself.

Above the rugs were the cheap, repaired furniture that Esca had stolen from the city dumps. The shelves were half broken and its wooden planks mismatched. The bed was made of rusted metal frames, on top of which a musty mattress was covered in a patchwork blanket. The pillow was stuffed with straw and wool, which Esca had sheared himself in the dark of the night. It was the best he could do, but he was proud that he made it himself.

His bedroom at his Master’s workshop was, of course, much better prepared; but when Esca went out for jobs, this tent was his home, and he stored everything he owned in it. It made for a great place to keep the somewhat questionable things that he would rather his Master not see. He crafted magical artifacts, brewed potions, and practiced spells that were not looked kindly upon. It was all for this day. The smell of his room calmed his nerves. 

He picked out several items that he had collected, and left the safety of the tent to stand next to the creature that was the size of a mountain. He looked at the objects in his hand, and wondered if he was powerful enough to do anything to the honey-scaled dragon.

He had to try. 

He uncorked the silver bottle in his hand. Like his bag and the tent, the bottle was enchanted to be larger on the inside than the outside. He had spent many moons brewing a special potion for the dragon, and he kept it all in the silver bottle. Carefully, he flew up to the dragon’s maw, and when Ambros snored, Esca tossed it in without spilling a single drop on the dry ground. The mage watched the bottle disappear into the back of the dragon’s throat. The second spell on it activated, and destroyed the bottle. In a split second, the galleons upon galleons of magical brew flooded Ambro’s throat, and as the dragon still slumbered, washed down his esophagus and into his stomach, where his body began to digest the liquid.

The dragon’s scales glowed with magic as the effects activated. Had the Gem Dragon been conscious, he would have easily cancelled out the meager effects of the potion – but he was not, and his body was the mage’s to do with as the brew dictated.

The base of the mage’s potion was called the Mageslayer – for whoever passed a single sip between their lips would find their magical powers repressed for a full lunar cycle. Fortunately for the mages, this brew had a distinctive smell of rot and swill, like food scraps on a hot summer day. The silver bottle, before it disintegrated, contained and masked the foul scent.

The second brew was much simpler – petrification. It was an assassin’s brew, where the victim would be rendered helpless for a spell. A single chalice could only hold a grown man for several minutes, and so to hold the dragon down, Esca developed a more potent mix: three times as strong, and three times concentrated. It took the mage almost a year to gather the ingredients just to brew enough of it. With his own innovation, Esca enchanted it to make the effect permanent – until, at least, an antidote was ingested.

The third component to this mix was one that any novice in alchemy could have mixed up. A shrinking potion, which was easy to make but hard to use. Too much of it, and the object disappears into thin air; while too little leaves it unchanged. The strength of it also depended on the skill of the brewer, which is to say this type of potion was unreliable to use, but served as an excellent candidate that was mostly used as a test for alchemical examinations. After months of experimentation, Esca discovered that a simple enchantment could have been applied during the brewing process to control the size of which the object shrank.

Concentrated. Enchanted. Amplified. Esca spent many nights dousing the brews with magic and hovered over the cauldrons with spells. By the end, a single drop was more than enough to knock out an army, and Esca had made barrels upon barrels of the stuff, all thrown together into his silver bottle.

There had been no test runs, and Esca hoped for the best as the magical glow slowly subsided from the dragon’s scale. From fifty feet to forty to thirty, the dragon shrank smaller and smaller until he was only slightly larger than Esca himself. While he slept, Esca levitated the much more manageable sized dragon and brought him into the tent.

From there, he equipped a collar over the dragon’s neck. It was a cheap, bronze collar, but etched on it were runes and words of power that regulated the mana of the creature it was placed on. Esca got the inspiration for this from the special cuffs they placed on criminal mages to prevent them from casting spells, and modified it to the best of his ability to contain the magic of a creature a thousand times stronger. It was ridiculously powerful, but completely worthless otherwise – the upper limits were so high that no single creature would be able to make use of it; save for the dragons, of course.

Esca placed both his hands on the dragon’s cheek as it hovered in the air. He took a good look at Ambros, and only then did he realize how beautiful the dragon was. How perfectly sculpted the dragon’s body had been. Strong, muscular arms. Broad shoulders. A slim waist. The ancient dragon, now that he’s got time to observe, looked more human than when he was a giant. His form had changed, and although his face remained the same, he seemed much less threatening. Was that an effect of the potion, or did Ambros have a second form that he took, Esca wondered. He did use his own hair in parts of the brew, and he couldn’t rule out it as an unintended side effect – to human-ifiy the draconic being. 

The mage took hold of the dragon’s hand and examined the human-like fingers with massive sharp claws on the end, and then he looked at the feet. The tops of the foot was covered in amber shards and scales, and the bottom of it was skin. Smooth, tender skin. For a moment, Esca was lost in his own thoughts.

As he admired the dragon, though, Ambros’ eyes opened and stared back. Esca felt a shiver run down his spine as he fell backwards.

“..Human.” Ambros spoke, his voice weak and without the grandeur that it usually carried. “..Ah.. what have you done?”

“Oh.. gods. It worked..!?” Esca was incredulous at himself. He didn’t expect the dragon to awake so soon – or that he would be long alive to take note of it.

“Hmph.” The dragon scoffed. Then, as he looked around, he realized that something was very wrong. He was small. Too small. And he was weak. Too weak. The cosmic powers were still inside him; but he could not summon an ounce of strength or call upon them. With his current body, he understood at once that he had fallen under the human’s spell while he slumbered.

Partially impressed, and partially mad, the dragon couldn’t decide on his next move. This was something that had never happened before – in the thousands of years of creation not once did a human, an elf, a dwarf, or a merfolk even come close to scratching the dragons – much less make them small and powerless. He floated in the air helplessly, carried by the human’s meager magic power. His body, while still retaining its glimmer, felt thin and frail. He couldn’t move anything below his neck. Not an arm, not his hand, not even a single finger. He sensed the poison of petrification in him, empowered by the mage’s spell. He sighed.  

“Human. You understand this will not hold me forever.”

“Yes. I didn’t account for it working at all, really.” Esca admitted. “I had half expected to return home with nothing but failure.”

“Your hubris is an annoyance.” The dragon said, without praise or scold towards his captor. “Release me. As you have bested me, I shall grant you a wish. Riches beyond your imagination. That is what you are after, yes?”

“Well, truth be told, I don't know how.” The human looked nervous. “If you read my mind, you’ll see that I'm not lying to you.”

“Read your – you humans attribute fantastical abilities to us dragons that we do not possess.” Ambros scoffed. “This is a cage of your design, and so I ask you again – release me, before I decide to take more drastic measures. I promise you this, little one, you will be gravely harmed should I choose to release my power.”

“Okay, well, let me think.” The mage turned and looked at his shelves. There was nothing he had prepared for, for this scenario. No antidotes. No spells. No artifacts. He had only prepared for items that would aid in the dragon’s capture, not its release.

“I grow impatient.” Ambros growled lowly. He tried to summon a spark of his power. He failed. He tried to summon more. That, too, was not conjured. While the human deliberated, the dragon tried to call on his strength. The potion that Esca brewed was simply too powerful – it had sealed the dragon up for good. Locked his cosmic powers inside him; and the enchanted collar regulated all of that power over the dragon’s will.

When he turned to face Ambros again, he found the dragon’s eyes glowed, as if he was to be bathed in the fires of hell. Esca fell back, and covered his face with his arms in fear. He waited. When nothing happened he looked again.

“..What have you done to me..!?” The dragon asked again. “All of my powers.. I can’t command it.”

“Not even.. A little?” The human asked. The dragon replied with a sharp glare.

“Hmph.” The dragon exhaled, and tried again. His eyes grew brighter. Bright, like the desert sun – but once again, nothing happened. Not even a spark of flames from his throat could be summoned.

“You’re completely.. Helpless?” The human’s curiosity peaked now. A smile grew on his face. He reached over and caressed the dragon’s chest. His hand traveled freely across the ribs, then the stomach, then the legs. He touched Ambros and felt the scales under his fingertips and the hair on the dragon’s head. 

“If you’re quite done..?” The dragon asked, annoyed. 

“Oh. Sorry. I just couldn’t help myself. I’m a mage – a scholar, you see. I’m inquisitive by nature.” Esca excused himself. “Speaking of – I came seeking something called the Milk of Eternity. Lord Ambros, do you happen to know what it is?”

“I am not familiar with the term.” The dragon sighed. He wasn’t going anywhere, so he might as well make conversation with the human. “Describe it for me. You humans name things in such mysterious ways.”

“I read in an ancient scroll that it gives eternal life.” The human recounted. “From the bosoms of Mother Gaia’s first children.”

“This obsession with eternal life – ugh.” Ambros groaned in disgust. “Milk of Eternity? What a pompous name. Call it for what it is – Our vital energy. Cosmic power. The droplets of creation, manifested.”

Esca was ecstatic when he heard the confirmation of its existence. It was more than he expected. From the beginning, he knew it was a fool’s errand, and he had already steeled himself to return to his Master when he had found nothing, or his potions failed. He treated it as a grand adventure, a chance to see the world with an excuse – but this – this was something else entirely.

“And how do I.. obtain this power?” Esca asked carefully. 

“Do not shy away from the real question with your cowardice.” The dragon spoke smugly. “No sword or spell of yours can harm me. If you thought to kill me, I wish you only the best of luck. Even the claws of another dragon would be repelled by my skin. I am immortal. Indestructible. Eternal. I cannot be cut, or burned, or made to give up my power by any violent methods your mortal mind could realize.”

Esca was both relieved and disappointed with the answer.

And, above the two, challenged, as he had always been.

“Then, Lord Ambros, you would not be opposed if I tried?” Esca asked daringly.

“I like your bravado, little human. Courageous or foolish it may be, it remains to be seen.” Ambros chuckled. “Come, Cast your spells. Sharpen your swords. See which one of your toys will work. In exchange, when I escape from this temporary bondage, I shall grant you a most celebrated death – and you shall burn from cosmic dragon fire. Your body, your spirit, your soul. Nothing will be left of you.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep.” Esca smirked. “Then, I shall prepare. In the meanwhile, don’t try too hard to escape – you don’t want to miss out on the fun!”

Esca rubbed his hands together. He was fully awake now. Ten thousand ideas flashed through his head, and he wanted to give every single one a try.

—

Perhaps he was too hasty to make such a wager with the human. Had Ambros the ability to read minds or see the future, he would not have made the same decision twice. After all, these mythical abilities were tales of human origin, and did not reflect on the facts of the world.

By the time Esca had finished his preparations, Ambros realized this was not the silly, mush-brained humans he had come to know for thousands of years. This one was different.

No spells or sword could penetrate his scales, so what the human did was to test a different brand of magic on him. A brand of magic that Esca was very well versed in – his ability to bend space to his whim.

At first, it was only a hand. Then, it was his arm. The human created warps in space that transported the dragon’s limb from one spot to another, while they were still fully attached in the loosest sense of the world. The dragon watched, confused, as his arm laid several feet away. When the human went to pick it up, he felt the touches against his skin and scales. When the human ran his finger against his paralyzed palm, he felt the tingling trail. The dragon gasped in the next moment, when both of his arms were detached by the shoulders. No pain. Only a very strange sense of orientation. The next to go were his legs, soon followed by his tail and wings. He looked at himself in the hanged mirror across the tent, and saw a limbless torso.

“Did you know I could do that?” Esca asked as he held a limb in each hand. He was as surprised as the dragon was that it worked.

“No.” The dragon answered truthfully. He did not know, nor did he care to wonder whether a spell like that could be used in this manner. It was an experiment for him, too – as he tried to gather his power in the claws of his hand and the soles of his feet, he found that even when detached, they were still individually sealed from his cosmic powers. Still stuck. Still the human’s helpless toy to examine and play with. The dragon sighed. “Will you put me back together now? This is obscene and, frankly, ridiculous.”

“I’ve never even done this to another human!” Esca exclaimed excitedly as he looked back and forth between the dragon’s foot and the dragon’s face. “Can you feel this?”

He pinched the dragon’s leg, to which Ambros winced and made a scowl on his face. 

“Yes.”

“Incredible!” The human laughed, and took another look at the dragon’s foot. He couldn’t help but run his fingers across the arches, from just beneath the balls of Ambros’ foot to the heel. Something caught him off guard. He heard a sudden noise from the dragon’s throat, and although Ambros tried to hide it, it was clear as day,

He looked at the dragon, then back at the foot. He touched it again.

There it was. Something that sounded like the dragon tried to clear his throat. A whine? A tickle? He became more daring. He raked his nails down the dragon’s arch quickly, before Ambros had time to compose himself.

“Hhfft!” A gasp of air escaped from the dragon’s lungs, through his nose and cracked lips.

“..Lord Ambros.. Are you by chance.. Ticklish?” The human smirked, then tried again.

“That’s a foreign concept to me.” The dragon insisted. It was not a lie. The giant dragon had never felt anything ‘tickle’ his feet before. Not while he was big, at least. He felt the tone of mockery in the human’s voice, and it displeased him. “It must have been your potions that altered my body.” 

The dragon, again, was not entirely wrong. There were unknown side effects when Esca haphazardly mixed the potions together that even the dragon, in his infinite wisdom, cannot predict. His wisdom, however, did not account for just how cunning the mage had learned to be over the years. The dragon was well versed in universal, unshakeable truths – the human was practiced in seeking alternative paths when one led to a dead end.

And so the mage began down a new path from this discovery. 

He reached for the foot again and spidered his fingers over them. This was the first time any form of vulnerability had been found against the Gem Dragons, and the human would not let it go. He pinched and picked at the tender sole skin, prodded and dug his fingers into them. He felt them for what they were – impossibly tender and pleasant to touch. Was this part of the dragon’s ability to enamor all those who laid eyes on him, or was this an effect that he had inflicted upon the dragon by his mixture of potions?

He did not know, and his hunger for knowledge grew.

He continued to toy with the dragon’s sole, with his fingers traversed freely between the immobile toes and the taut arches. The pads of his fingers rubbed over the balls and traced their shape. When the human was done, he leaned forward and studied them closer. Esca popped the ankle off with his magic and brought both feet to his face as he turned them over to examine the crevices and ridges and folds and wrinkles.

He sensed himself growing obsessed with Ambros’ feet.

“You know.” Esca’s breath was shaky. He couldn’t ignore the tug in his heart strings. “For some reason, I’m being drawn to you.”

“All mortals are.” The dragon answered coldly. “By design. The dragons giveth life, and life seeketh life.”

“No, you don’t understand.” Esca leaned his face towards the sole and gave it a kiss. He did not find it repulsive as he would another human’s feet, or another creature’s feet. “I have no thoughts of rejecting you.”

“As I said, human – we dragons are the object of your adoration. The elves, before your war to exterminate them, adore Emeralda. The dwarves adore Rubius. The merfolk adore Saphira. You, human, adore me.”

“I feel an attraction, yes.” Esca admitted. “But I don’t believe it is the way you explained. I do not adore you.”

“Then explain your perspective, and I shall be glad to hear it.” The dragon was amused at the human’s struggle.

“I want you for myself.” The human looked up. There was a yellow glow in his eyes, as if he had fallen under hypnotism. It was not magic. It was something more. Something in the human’s soul that awakened when he spent so much time close to the dragon. “I want to claim you. I want to possess you.”

“So, the evolution of greed knows no bounds.” The dragon chuckled. “You sought immortality – and what of that?”

“I will have both.” The human kissed the dragon’s foot again, then licked it from the heels up. There was a wince in Ambros’ face.

For the first time, there was something that earned Ambros’ ire. The dragon sensed not just adoration or desire, but something more primal – lust. A bestial, base form of emotion; driven by biochemical and hormones, designed to react with the subject of one’s desires – it was a sense instill in many species for them to breed, copulate, and expand the biodiversity of the world.

And the subject was him – or rather, his soles.

Ambros did not yet understand that humans had not just been changed by greed, but have been corrupted by it. The elves, the dwarves, the merfolk were content to be given their blessings; but the humans lacked resources, and in their evolution greed had become synonymous with their species. The many generations that evolved since the first borns had woven into the human genetics of the naturality that is greed and lust. Not to breed and to pass down one’s genes, but for pleasure, and for self gratification. A sense of fulfilment. 

For the gratification of the mage before him.

The tongue returned to the dragon’s sole. This time, it was not a lick of curiosity, but one to reap the flavor of his skin, and the scent of his scales. It was a lustful lick, a greedy lick. A lick fueled by the human’s desires to make the dragon his own.

“You..!” The dragon hissed. “How dare you.. Bring that corruption to me?! To treat me as the object of your sexual desires?!”

“I don’t understand it either, Lord Ambros – but as I will soon be burned in cosmic dragon fire soon, I see no harm in indulgence.” Esca’s mind was blurred and hazy. The taste of the dragon activated parts of his mind that he did not before know existed. He had never been romantically interested in anyone, or found anyone sexually attractive – but at this very moment, he was enamored with Ambros, and he deeply wanted to continue. There was nothing else that interested him but to experience, to taste of the dragon’s body – his feet.

He kissed it again, each toe one at a time. He laid his lips on them, and pressed the fleshy walls of his mouth against the digits. He licked between them. He tasted Ambros’ feet for the power and glory of the dragon. Esca felt so powerful in that moment – to be able to freely worship the dragon in such a way. Most people merely bowed at the temples and sang prayers. Not him. Not Esca.

He moaned into the foot where he buried his face, as if he had done so into the chest of his lover. His eyes opened after, and there it was that Ambros saw the entrancement that the human had fallen under – by virtue of his own aura. The aura of dragons that demanded love and worship, respect and fear – but under humanity’s corruption, the reverence that should have been shown to the dragon had been inverted – to the desire of possession.

It was a selfish, egotistic form of worship, to put his own needs above that of others, that of what the dragon deserved.

It was too late, though. For both Esca and Ambros. The two paths had been intertwined, and a new one emerged.

The rest of the world faded from Esca’s mind as he continued to indulge himself on the dragon’s soles, with ravenous licks and greedy slurps. His tongue tasted and teased the texture of Ambros’ feet, and then he graced the dragon’s toes with just as much lust and desire. The voice of the dragon seemed to not be able to reach the human anymore as the worship became much more zealous in nature, as if it was the one thing that still tethered Esca to the mortal realm.

The dragon shouted and put power into his voice. It was as silence. His words and commands no longer reached Esca.

The tongue and fingers worked together. Esca scratched. He licked. His fingers groped and caressed. Ambros gasped between roars of anger and piffles of snorted laughter. He tried to suppress it, keep his dignity intact – but as time passed, the dragon found it more and more difficult to do so. There was something in the mage’s potion that slowly increased the sensitivity of his feet as they were played with. Something that made him feel sensations elsewhere, too.

Ambros finally understood why he felt so abnormal. There was a fire in his crotch that was not there before. The mage’s potion didn’t just shrink him, but transformed his physical body akin to that of a mortal being, with all of their vulnerabilities, weaknesses, and equipment that was unnecessary for the divine dragon – equipment for procreation.

It wasn’t half-assed, either.

Ambros’ new shaft rised as the stimulation on his feet continued, and as the sensitivity of those soles increased so did his arousal. All of his power was still trapped inside him, sealed away and isolated, unable to assist him in any way but one – to keep him conscious, keep his vitals healthy. It would have been mercy for the dragon to pass out, but it was his own power that prevented it.

To say Esca was obsessed with Ambros’ feet would be an understatement when out of the corner of his eye he saw the dragon’s cock come into full erection. Esca’s lips curled into a smile. His eyes focused with purpose. With the dragon’s feet in his hands he approached the shouting Ambros, still ignorant to his voice. The mage’s vision narrowed until only the dragon’s large cock was in it, and then he toyed with the dragon’s shaft, too.

Ambros’ protests and anger soon turned into moans and cries. Fear crept into the dragon’s mind as he experienced sensations that he had never been privileged to for the thousands of years of his life. There was something that felt incredibly good, that his body craved – but his mind knew it was an evil that should be resisted. He struggled, conflicted within himself. The human heard none of the dragon’s pleads to stop. Rather, the dragon’s cock looked so inviting, and it fueled his desires of both physical intimacy and thirst for knowledge of the dragon’s inner makings.

He cast a spell to levitate the dragon’s soles to his face, to free up his hands. His tongue and teeth paid attention to the dragon’s toes while his hands now caressed softly the dragon’s newest and most private spot. Ambros cried with pleasure as his huge cock was stroked, handled, and pleasured in ways he never understood. 

It was a losing battle for the dragon. Every stroke tempted him further. He had no resistance against this. Not against an attack that did him no harm.

Secretly, Ambros wanted to explore further. His body answered the call that his heart would not.

Esca was entranced by the dragon’s shaft. It was as big as his forearm, and took both of his palms to rub and grind against the pleasure spots. He hugged it in his chest and felt how hot it was against his human skin. The dragon’s organ was free of his scales, and when their skins made contact the human felt rushes of magic, inexplicable and powerful, within it. His hand tranced the source of it to the dragon’s testicles.

Ambros’ nuts were as large as grapefruits, and when held in the human’s hands they were weighty and full. Esca leaned forward and buried his face into the dragon’s groin and inhaled the intoxicating scent of Ambros’ sex. The dragon whimpered meekly as his organs were fondled, which gave him pleasure like never before. Pleasures of the flesh that all mortals experienced, but not him. He had long seen the results of it from the acts of those he watched, and he finally understood for the first time why they insisted on placing such a high priority on it. With rituals and ceremonies and boasts. He felt firsthand the need to release something that was pent up inside him.

His tongue drooped from his mouth as the dragon’s eyes relaxed and closed. He no longer protested the way he was treated, but gave in to the loud moans and gasps that he had so far denied himself of. There was something incredibly arousing with the way he allowed himself to experience the freedom from his obligations, to experience the world as mortals would.

He felt shivers run up his spine, and he felt the tingling deep inside him below the stomach. He felt the twitches of his new cock and the itch and thirst of his prostate. He felt his heart race, the same way he was excited to watch the beginning of the universe. This time, though, it was pure arousal.

The hands returned to his cock, and the tongue returned to his toes. He felt his power recover along the heat, but only to the extent of allowing him to wiggle his fingers and toes. He curled them against the tongue that invaded their space, but they were easily pulled back by nothing but the mage’s mind. A simple magic spell to move small objects was enough to pull them back.

Ambros begged for release – not from his bondage, but from the pent up frustration in his cock. What he did not understand was that for his release to happen, his pelvic muscles would have to contract – which was fully prevented by the potion that petrified him. He did not understand the workings of the mortal body; at least not in that department.

And so the dragon cried and pleaded. Esca stroked the dragon, which seemed an endless task in itself, and neither knew that all that happened was the human kept the dragon on edge. Esca wondered if the dragon had great endurance, but then the dragon showed the first sign of surrenderance – by the way his cock leaked precum. It encouraged the mage to continue his handjob.

Then, Esca noticed something. Whether it was coincidental timing or if it was the dragon being receptive to his techniques, whenever he licked the dragon’s soles, the dragon seemed to leak more. The mage hypothesized that, perhaps, his potions have caused the dragon to become aroused when stimulated on his feet.

He chanted a few words and levitated several brushes. Fine bristles, rough bristles – it mattered not. In mere moments they flew towards the dragon’s feet and scrubbed mercilessly, as they were commanded. The dragon screamed of laughter as his eyes watered with tears. The sudden onslaught was too much for Ambros to handle.

And the sensitivity on his soles only seemed to increase with time.

Enchanted ropes wrapped around each of his toes and pulled them back, which ended with loops around the dragon’s ankle. Ambros’ soles were held taut as the many brushes competed for every last inch of surface area on the exposed, helpless feet. The sound of bristles scrubbing against the dragon’s poor feet was only matched by the animalistic screeches from the dragon’s mouth. To Esca, who had been so engrossed that he blocked out the dragon’s cries, Ambros’ predicament had long since passed from being an issue of concern. He pressed on.

He focused on the dragon cock that pulsated and twitched with every touch and every stroke.

Paint brushes were summoned from his tools. Dozens of them at a time, levitated and hovered above the dragon cock, which had now been modulated away from the dragon’s torso with the mage’s spell. Separated, it offered fully every angle the shaft and balls could be tormented. The paint brushes began to draw on them with horse hair, with rabbit fur, and mink fur. Each stroke was softer and more devious than the last. Three brushes focused on the head of the dragon’s cock, and they were relentless in their endeavor. 

And yet, Ambros was denied his wishes to released. He was physically unable to, and that did not bother Esca at all. The mage simply took it as a challenge that the dragon needed more stimulations, on his soles and his cock.

Whatever the dragon leaked, Esca carefully collected into his glass jars. It was a slow process that produced a miniscule amount, but even a single drop breamed with power. The mage sensed the incredible energy from it.

“Ah, this must be – the Milk of Eternity, then?”

He was close. The life force of the Gem Dragons was a phantasmic white, which would have been invisible to the naked eye. The results he had obtained were close enough.

Esca smiled as he was, so far, proven correct. But he needed more.

Much, much more.

He looked at the dragon, no longer with awe and reverence; but instead as a magic scientist, a scholar, and a researcher – who looked at the subject of his studies.

“We must run more tests, Lord Ambros.” He said, and grinned. “It is for the good.. Of everyone.”

—

Time passed. Untracked. Unknown.

For the Gem Dragon, it would have been trivial to break the human mage’s spell had it been only a matter of time, but even that, Esca conquered.

With the power of the dragon’s precum, Esca used the dragon’s power against himself time and time again. His capture was prolonged, extended, and the rest of his magic remained sealed.

The dragon’s torso had been wrapped in a layer of rubber, which had been coated in anti-magic properties to prevent a single ounce of power from leaking. Every piece of the dragon was covered until his brilliance of honey yellow scales no longer shined through, multiple times. He was trapped and petrified, frozen inside a magic crystal that was designed to keep him alive. Of course, that was unnecessary. Ambros was immortal, and death could not claim him. It would have been a release.

His arms and legs were kept in the same crystal pillar. Together, but separate. Wires and tubes connected these pieces to an external crystal, which acted as a battery to draw and contain the miniscule traces of energy that he shedded. The mage found this most useful.

His feet, however, were decorated and displayed in the heart of Esca’s lab – as was the dragon’s head and cock. The dragon’s soles and toes were tickled and  abused every single hour of the day, without rest. From his own shedded mana powered devices of Esca’s making. Rotary brushes between his toes. Mechanical scrubbers in the center of his arches. Pricklers and scritchers on the balls of his feet. Even the tops were feathered and flossed by plumes of all sizes and shapes. The offshoot energy went into a mild heater device that kept those soles warm and comfortable. Esca found that Lord Ambros was ill equipped for chiller climates, and it was only when his soles were roasted that they became the most sensitive. Those honey yellow soles had long since gained a state of permanent pink blush and a sheen of sweat.

As for his head, which was kept next to his feet – Esca had deemed it was necessary to blindfold the dragon to rob him of his sight, and to cover his ears with enchanted crystals to deafen him to the sounds of the outside world. The dragon was gagged, and a tube extended into his mouth to constantly drip Esca’s potions into the dragon’s throat that trinkled magic throughout the dragon’s separate body. The same potion kept him petrified, kept his magic sealed, and over time increased the sensitivity of the dragon’s body. Of course, his head was also wrapped in the same anti-magic rubber save for these holes.

Esca was pleased with his work. Lord Ambros only needed to focus on his treatment for maximized results. Within the enchanted crystals, Esca’s voice repeated the same words so many times that it was as if the voices were Ambros’ own. “A good dragon submits. A good dragon obeys. A good dragon cums. Lord Ambros is a good dragon.”

Still, after the many moon cycles that had passed, not once have Ambros orgasmed. Not once had he released the precious dragon cum that the mage sought after. He merely assumed the dragon had been defiant, when Ambros would give everything to just cum once.

Just once. Just once. JUST ONCE.

The dragon’s mind was kept intact only enough to crave the release of his cock. To beg. To pray. His prayers went unanswered. His gagged maw cried. That got the attention of the human mage, who looked past the dragon’s face, and whose gaze landed on the dragon cock that was constantly stimulated, constantly stroked by the many vibrators and brushes that were enchanted to attend it. Unlike the rest of the dragon’s body, his cock was not bound – but hovered in the air, much like the dragon’s soles, to allow the mage’s tool full access. The tip of the cock pointed constantly to a jar that sat underneath to catch every last drop of precious pre.

Esca dipped his finger in the collected pre and licked it. Instantly he was filled with life. He felt his body reinvigorate and renew, as if the damages of time had completely been lifted. He looked at the mirror and saw that his face had reverted back to the prime of his youth, when he had buried himself in books.

He stripped in front of the mirror and looked at his skin. They were firm, filled with moisture, and smooth. He took another lick of the dragon’s pre. His body shined with the dragon’s magic. He smiled to himself. His attention returned to the bound, endlessly edge, ‘defiant’ dragon.

“Lord Ambros.” He leaned forward and gave the dragon’s sweaty sole a kiss between the brushes, then kissed the dragon’s covered lips. “My love, my love. When will you be satisfied? How can I give you enough pleasure to cum?”

The dragon laughed into his gag, as he always did. Followed by moans. He would, if he could. He would give the human all of his cum. If he only could. It was the one thing he wanted. It was the one thing he was denied.

Esca looked over the cock, and kissed that too. Several more droplets of pre flowed. It gave the human hope that one day, he would be enough for the dragon he worshipped.

“I adore you, Lord Ambros.” Esca held the dragon’s head in his embrace. “Won’t you love me, too?”

Perhaps in time, Esca will discover his own mistake – but it remains unlikely for a virgin nerd to understand how orgasms happen. He was, after all, isolated in his labs and cared for none other than the dragon he obsessed over.

Until that mythical day arrived, though, Lord Ambros would be nothing but an eternally tickled, eternally edged, and completely broken dragon toy.

=The end=

Patreon Exclusive: Mar 2025 I

Cost Saving Measures and Cock Slaving Pleasures

By KinkSaber

“Oh, fuck the CEO!” The raccoon screeched, yanked the keyboard from the desktop tower, and threw it across the room. The cheap plastic smashed against the wall and snapped in half. “Laid off?! Fifteen years! I’ve been here longer than he has been! He doesn’t know shit about my system!”

“Now, I know you’re upset, Lucky – but that’s no way to behave. You’re damaging company property!” Jane from HR said, in a monotonous voice. She didn’t care about the system developer or all the time he’s put into this company. She didn’t care about his loyalty. All she wanted was to finish her job so she could sneak out a half hour early under some pretense of off-site work. Jane was a venomous bootlicker, and that description was much too nice for people like her. “Many, many people are laid off, all the time! For budgetary reasons! It’s not personal. And they’re fine! You’re fine! You’re good at computers, right? You’ll get a new job in no time at all! I just need you to sign this non-disclosure agreement, and we can talk about your severance packag–”

“Fuck you, Jane! And fuck Genextic!” Lucky swiped his hand across his desk and pushed all the folders, paperwork, stationeries, and his half-drunken, lukewarm mug of coffee all to the floor. It wasn’t his mess to clean up. “I’m not signing anything! And if you’re a single day late or a single cent off on my last paycheck, I’ve got all the time in the world to raise HELL – and believe me, I will raise HELL and bury you in paperwork!”

The raccoon stomped out of the office that had been his for the last fifteen years. He had worked his way up from support staff to management to the head of internal systems. That, apparently, wasn’t good enough for the CEO, Mr. winner-in-life, the most eligible bachelor within a hundred miles radius, the one and only, sensational billionaire extraordinaire, Darvy Charmings.

It was only two years ago that the billionaire bought out Genextic Inc. where Lucky worked at. There have been changes, popular and unpopular, demanded from the CEO who knew nothing of the way their business worked, and the cybersecurity and system administration department had in particular been targeted as budget cuts drew near. The main cause of concern for Lucky had always been his team, which still struggled to keep up with the system that he wrote. He had asked for more manpower for the helpdesk team, too, but they had all gone ignored. He worked ten hour days, weekdays and weekends, and regularly skipped going home for the night, while the new CEO left before the afternoon was half over most days. He knew the system was going to be fucked without him. Fucked beyond repair. He fumed. He had invested so much of his life on this, and just like that he had been laid off.

As soon as the raccoon got home, he went straight to the fridge and grabbed a cold bottle. As Lucky slammed the drink back, he couldn’t help but harbor thoughts of vengeance against not just the company, but the CEO himself. What could he do, thought? He was a small mammal, and Darvy Charmings was a giant – figuratively and literally. The snow leopard was easily more than seven times his size, which was pretty damn big even for snow leopard standards. He chugged the bottle, and then popped the cap off another. He chugged that, too.

“Fuggin’ Charmings. Fuggin’ Jane. Fuggin’ – EVERYTHING!” Lucky kicked a cushion that had fallen onto the ground, which smacked meekly against the wall. He was no athlete, and on his best day he could struggle to carry home too much groceries. He was a small thing, and strength was not his forte.

But intelligence and knowledge, was.

He knew Darvy was good at business. Good at talking. Good at negotiating and good at convincing whatever he needed to convince people of. Darvy was, however, not good at technology. Nobody at Genextic was as good at it as him. Lucky hatched a plan.

He hopped onto his laptop, which still had remote access to the Genextic servers. Of course it would. He was the gatekeeper, and none of his team had the password or administrative access to the higher privileges of the system. He logged in, and everything was still available to him – even above the access level of Darvy himself. He could access the accounts, the cash, the database, the – everything!

But let’s not be stupid. Stealing cash from Genextic would put him in jail and the fraudulent cash would be returned by the banks. No. He had to drag Darvy down from his high horse, and hit him where it hurts. He needed Darvy to fail, and he needed Darvy to fail hard.

The raccoon’s fingers flew over the keyboard. He was in his natural habitat. Even while he was a little buzzed, he continued to type in command after command. He removed his employee account from the system, but installed several invisible backdoors that he knew his team could not handle or knew to look for. He took himself off access and payroll, just as any terminated employee would have been. He locked out the system silently. He prevented the passwords from being reset. He locked up critical infrastructure for the employees.

Most of all, he cleared the logs and deleted all of his comments in the most crucial parts of his code. Then, he force-changed the encryption key that all employee passwords would parse through, and reset the security keycards that opened the doors.

He smirked to himself. Come morning, nobody would get into the building.

There were exactly three master key cards that bypassed the security clearance at the front doors. One held by Darvy, the CEO, one held by Knightleigh, the COO, and one held by Checkers, the CTO – Lucky’s direct supervisor – which had been given to him. The Chief Technology Officer was a lazy fuck that failed upwards, after all, and threw all of his work at Lucky whenever possible. He knew neither Darvy or Knightleigh would show up until at least ten in the morning. That should send them into a panic, and his team would probably need a good day or two to figure out the encryption had been changed.

Maybe three days. Three days, max.

Then again, his team wasn’t exactly the brightest. Lucky considered the consequences, and perhaps it was the alcohol that spoke to him, but the raccoon dismissed the disasters that would ensue and pressed enter. It was done.

To celebrate, Lucky slammed back another three bottles and passed out on his couch. 

—

The raccoon thought he had woken up to his alarm, but it was his ringtone. His head pounded as the hangover caught up to him. He checked the clock on the wall. It was eight. There was a moment of panic where he thought he was late, but then he remembered that he was fired – and the subsequent events of the previous night. He checked his phone. There were twenty missed calls from his team and five from Checkers. His phone rang again. It was his ex-boss. 

“Yuhh? What’s up?” The raccoon sluggishly answered. 

“Lucky! Where are you?! I need you here!” Checkers was on the other end. He had never sounded so anxious and nervous. The raccoon, on the other hand, was ready to be busted. He recalled all the things that he’s done, and there was a small part of him that worried that he didn’t cover all of his tracks. “Lucky! We’ve been hacked! Everything is down! I need you here to fix it, right now!”

“Uh.” Lucky began. He couldn’t make heads or tails of what Checkers was going on about. “Hold on. Back up. What, uh, what happened?”

“We’ve been hacked! The company’s system! It’s all down!” Checkers cried. “I need you to come in as soon as possible! We’ve been calling you for an hour! Where have you been?!”

“Yeah, so, about that.” Lucky was incensed that Checkers didn’t even remember he was fired. “Technically, I don’t work for you anymore, remember?”

“What the hell are you talking about?!”

“Jane came in yesterday and fired me.” Lucky recounted. “Well, no. Laid off, she said. Plenty of people are laid off all the time!” The raccoon mocked Jane’s pitchy, irritating voice. “You’ll do fine! YoU’lL dO fInE!”

“What! I never approved that.”

“So, yeah. I don’t work for you anymore, Big C. Bossman.” Lucky said. “Hell of a time to fire the guy who knows the system inside out, right? Well, best of luck with the interns – Lucky out!”

“Wait!” Checkers almost screamed into his phone. ”WAIT! WAITWAITWAITWAITWAIT! Wait! Just wait! We can talk about this!”

“What?” Lucky asked.

“I’ll give you a ten percent raise.” Checkers offered. “We’ll redo your contract. Uh. Vacation days. I’ll give you a week – no, two more weeks on top of what you already had. You’re not fired, Lucky, you’re being promoted. There were miscommunications.”

“Promoted to what? Customer?” The raccoon fumed. “I’ve been with you for FIFTEEN YEARS and you didn’t even know I was being laid off? Big C, that’s not fair. That’s so incredibly unfair. And ten percent? Is that all I’m worth to you? Just a ten percent raise and two weeks of vacation time that I never get to take off anyway because nobody else could watch the servers for TWELVE HOURS before you’re up in smoke and flames! Gods! Big C, you know I deserve better than that!”

“Look, Lucky – we need you. I need you. Whatever it is you want, you got it, okay? I’ll make you the Junior CTO, okay? You get a nicer office, flex hours, more pay and more days off, and nobody could fire you again without going through a shitload of bureaucracy and through me – I guarantee that you won’t have to deal with any of this ever again.” Checkers was desperate. “Anything you want. Just name it. We’re hemorrhaging hundreds of thousands of dollars every minute we’re not back online. I NEED you back here, Lucky. NEED.”

“Oh, so Genextic does know that I could fix this all in five minutes flat.” Lucky laughed dryly. 

“Well, I know that.” Checkers offered. “I mean, if it’s any consolation, I would never have allowed them to touch you if I knew they were up to something. Why didn’t you come to me yesterday?”

“You were out golfting, Big C.” The raccoon groaned. “Anyway, I have a hangover – I’m going to get some greasy food and go back to bed. Nothing against you. I liked working for you, but I’m not coming back to a company that can lay me off at a moment’s notice. I’m done. If you really, really, really want my help with your system crisis, tell Darvy Charmings himself to come eat my ass and gargle my balls. I’ll change my mind then.”

—

“So, I understand that I’m here to eat your ass?”

Lucky glared daggers at the snow leopard that darkened his doorsteps a mere two hours after his call with Checkers.

“Ah, yes, and gargle your balls, if I’m not mistaken, Lucky.”

The raccoon hated how calmly Darvy said all of that, without so much as a changed expression on his face. It was as if the snow leopard could do no wrong, commit no errors, and make no mistakes.

“That’s sexual harassment, Mr. Charmings.” Lucky replied. “If I had a doorbell camera installed, I’d take you to court.”

“Let’s cut to the chase. I made a judgement call that didn’t give me the result I wanted, so now I’m here to apologize – and to offer you your job back.” The snow leopard adjusted his tie, the stern look still on his face. “A promotion, as Checkers have mentioned. A real one. Double your salary, two more weeks of paid time off on top of your old compensation package, promotion to Junior CTO and you work directly with Checkers and nobody else. You get a new office with a window view on my floor – and how about if I threw in a company car?”

He handed the raccoon a folder, and Lucky read over the new terms of employment. There was everything listed, as the snow leopard promised, and more. Flex hours. Genextic stocks. Dividends and guaranteed year end bonuses. Vacation houses. Priority company passes to events and exclusive platinum level loyalty programs. Altogether the package equaled what the raccoon would have made three, maybe four times what he used to.

Lucky can’t say he wasn’t tempted. Tempted as all hell. But he didn’t like the way the snow leopard tried to solve the problem with a fistful of dollars in his face. He felt insulted. Tempted and insulted. Mostly tempted by the dollar signs.

“That’s quite an offer.” His voice quivered. He heard himself, and knew he had lost the advantage.

“Correct. This is the way I’d prefer to do things.” The snow leopard lowered his voice, and invited himself into the house. There was not much the raccoon could do to stop the larger predator. “As it happens, I’ve taken a look into your codes. Bravo. Encryption is validated offsite on a foreign private server, remote access denied without three factor authentication hardcoded to, I assume, a device only you have access to. Probably not kept in this house, for security purposes. Override requires in-person manual access, and that’s only if I knew where your server was located, so you would at minimum have two accomplices that I don’t know the identity of.”

“..What?”

“Can’t make changes to the system without valid super admin credentials, and can’t revalidate super admin credentials without access to the system.” The snow leopard clapped his hands together slowly. “Genius. Inspired. I know you’re the one who fucked up our system, but I’m very impressed by your skills, so I’m willing to let this go and sweep it under the rug.”

“You have no evidence.” The raccoon bit his lip.

“And I don’t expect to find any, if you’re as good as I believe you to be.” Darvy continued. “So, let’s skip this song and dance. Here are my cards. I have a contract worth a hundred million dollars on my computer and if you don’t unlock it, I’m going to have to file bankruptcy. You want me to eat your ass and gargle your balls? Drop your pants and let’s get it over with. I’ll do whatever it takes for you to fix the damn servers by tomorrow at the latest.”

The snow leopard closed the door and turned the lock without a single glance.

“Are you too chicken to follow through with your outrageous demand?” The snow leopard rolled up his sleeve to reveal a gold watch encrusted with diamonds. That alone was worth more than everything Lucky had in his possession. He rolled up the other, as if he didn’t want the ass-eating to stain his nice suit. “Or do you feel that the three minutes that you’d last isn’t enough to trade for the rescue operation?”

“You’ll do anything, huh?” The raccoon scoffed. “Why don’t you start by stripping? I-I-I want to see you’re not wearing a wire or-or-or anything like that!”

“Childish games.” The snow leopard laughed. He unbuttoned his shirt and lifted it over his head to reveal a perfectly toned, muscular body. It was not a body that computer nerds like Lucky could hope to obtain. There was real work put behind those sculpted abs, the strong pecs, and the gorgeous biceps that Lucky, for a brief lapse in sanity, imagined to embrace him. In seconds, the snow leopard’s top was off. “Oh, you thought I’d be shy about my body?”

“T-t-then take off your p-p-pants!” The raccoon stuttered. He was so embarrassed about the way he carried himself at that moment. The snow leopard only laughed and unzipped himself. Lucky didn’t have to ask for the snow leopard to kick off his loafers and remove his underpants, too.

The raccoon’s eyes were fixed on the feet that were covered only by a pair of black sheer socks. Lucky gulped. That was his weakness. He had always – before yesterday – wanted to see Darvy’s feet. Of course, that was also true of many of his hot, hunky colleagues.

“Do you want me to take my socks off too?” Darvy asked. Perceptive as ever, the snow leopard did not let the raccoon’s gaze go unnoticed. The snow leopard truly had the eyes of a predator. He pressed on. “Or did you want to remove them yourself? Ah, I bet you want to take it off my feet, don’t you? Is that what you’re into? Getting your ass ate, your balls gargled, and taking off socks.”

The snow leopard was three moves ahead, and Lucky didn’t like it.

“I-i-if if you want me to fix your servers – you better – shut up!” His face burned.

“It’s so funny that you’re embarrassed when I’m the one naked.” The snow leopard flexed his arms and legs. “You’re too cute, Lucky Castor. One might think you’re a virgin – if they didn’t already suspect it from your computer skills.”

“S-s-shut up!” The raccoon was flustered.

“If you want to shut me up, then put your balls in my mouth.” The snow leopard teased. “No, really. I don’t have all day. I have business meetings to go to. So hurry up, fuck my throat raw with your tiny two inch raccoon penis, sign the damn contract, and we can both move on with our day!”

The raccoon’s knees felt weak when Darvy approached, and he fell backwards onto the couch. The snow leopard took the chance to pounce and corner Lucky, who gasped as that handsome face was merely an inch from his own. The raccoon panicked and pushed him away with all his strength.

“Fuck! What now?” There was an undeniable tone of annoyance in the snow leopard’s voice. Darvy put his hands on his waist, and the snow leopard’s cock was in the raccoon’s face.

“Wait. You’re actually.. Kind of small.” Lucky’s eyes darted between the snow leopard’s face and  his cock.

“..Are you picking a fight?” Darvy asked.

“That’s like, four inches at most.” The raccoon nodded. “And honestly, it doesn’t seem like you’re a grower.”

“Oh, now it’s personal.” The snow leopard growled. It was the first time Lucky heard his ex-CEO sound upset in any manner. The snow leopard had always been so calm; like an impenetrable iron maiden. It’d seem that Lucky had found the one sore spot that the snow leopard was sensitive about.

The raccoon pressed on.

“Yeah, and now it’s a dick measuring contest.” The raccoon felt more confident, more collected now. Lucky pulled his pants down to reveal his own, which was six inches in length and three in girth. “And you haven’t even seen my final form yet.”

There was a twitch in the snow leopard’s eye lids. Lucky knew he had won. Still, the snow leopard pushed on. He moved forward again, and reached for the raccoon’s cock.

“Wait! What are you doing?!” Lucky swiped the snow leopard’s hand away.

“What? Didn’t you want a blowjob?” The snow leopard got more annoyed by the second. “You made an offer, and I accepted. So let’s get on with it.”

“You’re okay to just give blowjobs out like that?!” The raccoon felt incredulous. “What the fuck?”

“It’s a HUNDRED MILLION DOLLAR blowjob, asswipe!” The snow leopard exploded, then took another second to breathe in and out to collect himself. “I don’t think you appreciate the gravitas of which I operate.”

“You have like, four hundred billion dollars. What’s a hundred million dollars more or less to you? That’s total chump change – Wait.” The raccoon stopped himself. He recalled how a couple weeks ago he had worked on Darvy’s computer and there were documents all over the CEO’s desk. Highly classified. He never got a good look, but the stamps were recognizable enough. “That contract is a red herring. This isn’t about the money – it’s about the genetic database at Genextic!”

“..Fuck!” The snow leopard growled. Louder, this time, and with more aggression. “Look at you, smarty pants – you figured it out. Now unlock the systems, or we’re both utterly fucked.”

“You’re a little more fucked than I am, aren’t you?” The raccoon breathed a sigh of relief. He had finally found the upper hand he needed to control the situation. “I'm nobody. Worst case scenario, I go to jail for corporate espionage, and a team of the best hackers in the world would take months to crack open my redundancy protocols – and like you’ve said, that’s only if you knew where to look. But you – you, mister, you need the database right now. You don’t have months to wait.”

“Senior CTO. I’ll put Checkers under you.” The snow leopard said. “And that’s my final offer.”

“Genextic is worth what, half a billion dollars at most? That’s generous.” The raccoon continued. “Can’t be about the money. Can’t be about the merger deals. Reputation? No, that’s superficial for you. Genextic database. Genextic database. Ah.”

“Don’t.” The snow leopard warned. “Don’t you dare.”

“Department of defense contracts.”

“And you’ve just opened Pandora's box.” The snow leopard said sternly. “You’re on thin ice, raccoon.”

“That’s why you got rid of me.” The raccoon finally put all the pieces together. “Without me at the helm, there’d be nobody to stop you. Nobody else knew how to work the system I built from the ground up. You couldn’t risk me going rogue just in case the head of system admins didn’t agree with your DoD contracts! With your politics!”

“A simple miscalculation.” The snow leopard insisted. “And one that I am eager to correct.”

“Your ‘miscalculation’ is fifteen years of my life’s work, Darvy.” The raccoon was angry. “I deserve more respect than that – and I think until you show me that respect, I’m just going to keep the servers locked up. Without what’s in my head, the servers might as well be scrap metal!”

“You little pest..!” The snow leopard tried to impose himself on the raccoon, but the raccoon scampered and dodged out of the way.

“Nuh uh uh, Darvy. I’m in charge now.” Lucky chuckled. “If you don’t want to face the consequences, which I’m sure is worse for you than for me, then you listen to me now.”

“What else could you possibly want?”

“Well, that blowjob, for one.” The raccoon admitted. He couldn’t help but imagine himself fucking the snow leopard’s throat raw. He might as well. He had strategically fucked the snow leopard into a corner already. “But right now? I want you on your fucking knees and hands behind your back.”

The raccoon kept his guard up even as the snow leopard complied. Lucky felt a rush of adrenaline when the snow leopard actually knelt down before him, and willingly put both his hands behind his back.

“Happy?” Darvy grunted. “Now let me suck you off before – ”

“Not so fast.” The raccoon circled around him and ran off to his room before he returned with ropes. 

“Really? That perverted shit is what you’re into?”

“Do you want the servers unlocked or not?” Lucky dangled the bait over the snow leopard, which easily shut him up.

“Fine. Whatever. Get it over with.” The snow leopard sighed and did not resist when his wrists were bound behind him. Then it was his ankles. The raccoon then pushed him over and secured his limbs together in a hogtie. For an even more secured measure, ropes weaved between the snow leopard’s strong biceps and thighs and wrapped him up tight. “This is entirely unnecessary. I – mmhhhphh!”

Lucky stripped the socks off the snow leopard’s feet and roughly stuffed it in Darvy’s mouth.

“Don’t spit it out.” The raccoon instructed. There was a glare of anger from the snow leopard’s eyes, but Darvy complied with that, too. In another moment, tape that seemed to come out of nowhere trapped the sock inside. Lucky wrapped it around the maw, then the eyes, then taped those snow leopard ears down. It wasn’t enough to deafen Darvy, but enough to deprive him of just about all of his senses.

Then, Lucky walked away.

Darvy was left alone. He groaned and grunted and struggled through his bonds. Much like the systems he wrote, the ropework was secured and there was nothing the snow leopard could do to break out.Darvy exhaled and calmed himself as much as he could. He swished his tail, but even if his tail was free it couldn’t have undone some of the intricate knots that he saw the raccoon loop him in.

Then, something cold was slathered across his feet. The raccoon’s hands returned to rub the lotion all over those soles and toes. Another squirt. Darvy groaned. Lucky did not use the moisturizer sparingly. The massage lasted only a few minutes, and then Lucky left the snow leopard alone in his living room again.

An hour passed. The raccoon returned to apply the lotion. Two hours. The process repeated. Three. By the third time, the snow leopard was angry. He struggled tightly against his bondage. There was nothing else to stimulate him but the angry thoughts in his head to keep him company.

“Calm down, Darvy.” The raccoon said loud enough for the snow leopard to hear. “Don’t hurt yourself. We’re not done yet.”

“MMM-GRRRR”

“Don’t struggle too much.” Lucky laughed. “I’m working on the servers on my laptop right now, and who knows? If you bump into my table and knock the laptop over, it’d be over for you, you know?”

The snow leopard froze in place immediately.

“You really don’t want to fuck with my laptop. It’s the only thing that can save you right now – and you’re going to be here as my emotional support snow leopard until I’m done fixing the servers.”

“Mhhp..!”

“Mm-hm.”

Four hours. Five. Every so often, Lucky would apply another layer of lotion to the snow leopard’s feet. It was in his sixth hour of bondage that Darvy finally felt his feet become more sensitive, and that’s when he figured out what the raccoon wanted. Lucky didn’t just soften his soles up for a footjob – there was something far more sinister. The snow leopard did not want to even think about it.

The raccoon merely took a sip from his fourth mug of coffee and continued to slam on his keyboard. Occasionally, he took a glance at those upturned snow leopard soles. They looked so much softer and approachable than the hostile Darvy when he first arrived.

Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten. Ten hours of bondage and ten applications of lotion later, Lucky finally removed the blindfold from the snow leopard – and the socks in his mouth.

“Are you happy now?” Darvy muttered. He was exhausted. He wanted to leave, but it wasn’t up to him. It wasn’t just the physical bondage he was in – but rather he can’t leave unless he had access to those servers. The Genextic database was far more valuable than Lucky realized, the snow leopard thought.

“Just about.” The raccoon replied. “A couple more hours and I might – MIGHT – have it all running properly.”

“A couple more hours?!” The snow leopard cried.

“I could make it two more days.” The raccoon offered.

“Just get them back online!”

“Oh, they’re online.” Lucky chuckled. “That was done hours ago.”

“Let me go, then!” The snow leopard struggled again. “This instance!”

“Don’t you want to hear about what I’m working on?” The raccoon kicked the snow leopard on the ground. “It came to me that I can’t hold the servers hostage forever. Not like this. I had everything up and running again before noon. That was simple enough.”

“What the hell did you do now?” Darvy asked. Not much to do but play into the raccoon’s hands. He wasn’t going anywhere.

“Implemented a couple dead man’s switches.” Lucky replied. “Sorry, can’t trust you after what you pulled. Can’t have you order to extract the data and kick me out of the picture again – so that’s what it is. Hidden junk code that will nuke your entire technical infrastructure without my manual input at predetermined and regular intervals. Nuke everything if you mess with my code. Nuke everything if somebody tried something stupid. Call it job security.”

“Overkill, especially when I had no plans of doing that.” The snow leopard rolled his eyes.

“You don’t know the meaning of overkill.”

“Now, if you’re quite happy – I suggest you let me go before you get into real trouble.”

“You don’t know the meaning of trouble, either.” The raccoon stood from where he sat, reached his hands towards the sky, and stretched. “The more I dug into the systems, the more dirt I found – and I’ve already made a copy of everything, too.”

“What do you want, Lucky?”

“Revenge, really.” The raccoon admitted. “You laid me off with no notice, threw a wrench in my career. This is going to follow me the rest of my life – and all because you can’t be happy with the money that you’ve already got.”

“That’s pathetic.”

“You know what? You’re right.” The raccoon was angry. Even after all he’s done, the snow leopard treated him with such condescendence, as if none of what he did mattered. He wanted to make the snow leopard pay. Not just with the money that he had tons of – but to really, really pay. “There aren't that many problems that you can’t do away with, with your cash, Darvy Charmings. Richest bastard in the northern hemisphere. I should aim higher.”

“..Fuck! Haven’t you had your fun already?”

“Speaking of fun..!”

The raccoon put his bare foot over the snow leopard’s face, his toes dug into Darvy’s cheek.

“Cute. You think a little steppies is going to make me feel insulted?” The snow leopard turned his face away. “You don’t get to where I am by being emotionally led by the nose. This is business, Lucky. Big felines like me make big money, and –”

The raccoon covered the snow leopard’s mouth with the sole of his foot, which muted Darvy. The eye roll from the snow leopard told him all that he needed to know – the snow leopard cared little for his current predicament. The raccoon knew he had to step up his game.

“Shut up, Darvy.” The raccoon said as he steeled his resolve to take it to the next level. He had thought about it for hours, even while he hammered away on that keyboard. There were inhibitions in the normally kind and meek raccoon that made him think twice about what he’d do. It was at this point that he realized he had gone too far to pretend this was all a joke now – and if he simply let Darvy go, the snow leopard would have another thing to jeer at him for: the fact that he had the CEO in the palm of his hands and he was too chicken shit to do anything about it. “You know what, you’re right. I’ve been too soft. I’ll do better, Darvy.”

The snow leopard snorted with disbelief. Darvy was convinced that the raccoon couldn’t take ownership of the situation if his life depended on it, the same way he conducted his professional activities. That’s why he kept at the additional ‘failsafe measures’ – to prepare for the eventuality that his original plan would fail. Darvy had no doubts that Lucky was intelligent, but he also knew that the raccoon had no balls – so to speak. That’s also why he allowed himself to venture into the raccoon’s home without any sort of back up. He would be – as he assumed – completely safe.

But little did Darvy know, his underestimation of Lucky’s desire for revenge would soon be his undoing.

Lucky left the snow leopard alone for all of thirty seconds, and then returned with a duffle bag in tow. The first item that the raccoon retrieved from it was a choker, which was soon locked around the snow leopard’s neck. The second was a small leather band that bounded the snow leopard’s tail in an S-shape. Then, a thin steel wire was used to connect the ring on the leather band and the choker, which pulled the snow leopard’s tail backwards until Darvy’s back was arched. Just when the snow leopard was about to complain, an O-ring, which was an obvious gag, was offered to his face.

“Really, Lucky? A little S&M gear is all you can muster?” Darvy laughed. “You think I haven’t played with any of these before? Am I eating asses or sucking dicks today, or what?”

“I could just wipe the entire server if you’d prefer.” The raccoon said.

“Fine, whatever.” Darvy said, and opened his mouth. The band wrapped around his head as his maw was forced open by the O-ring; and then his eyes blindfolded by a cheap strap that no doubt was purchased from an unreputable online distributor. “Ughhh.”

That was all he could say before the unexpected happened.

The raccoon circled around until he sat near the snow leopard’s feet. Two hands took hold of Darvy’s ankles, and then the snow leopard felt the raccoon’s face dive right into the center of his soles.

And Lucky breathed.

The snow leopard was baffled. When he teased the raccoon nearly ten hours ago, he did not expect to be so on the dot.

“Fuck.. so soft!” Lucky moaned. He took another whiff of the snow leopard’s soles while his cheeks caressed the tenderness of Darvy’s foot flesh. He let his nose poke between the toes. He inhaled the snow leopard’s scent again. Darvy smelled of expensive, pompous cologne. There was a trace of sweatiness, but hours of being exposed to the air and the repeated lotion treatment had removed most of that scent. Unlike how he appeared, Darvy did not have a masculine scent – his feet were almost free of the snow leopard’s unique smell. There was no musk and no saltiness to it.

The raccoon’s fingers rubbed through the softened soles. The snow leopard had to focus to keep a whine from escaping his throat. He hadn’t realized how much more sensitive his feet had become. Every touch of the raccoon’s fingers made him squirm, internally and physically. No matter how hard he tried, though, the whimper soon came from his open maw, and his breath became labored.

The lack of sight, of course, did not help.

“And so sensitive, too, it seems.” Lucky sounded excited. For the first time that day, Darvy began to worry. The touches against his soles were rough, and the sniffs and muzzles were heavy. He doesn't recall Lucky ever being that into anything – at work, at meetings, or even at slacking off. There was a spark in the raccoon’s voice that made him feel anxious. He would be right to.

The raccoon’s tongue finally slipped from between his lips and gave the snow leopard’s toes a lick. As soft as Lucky thought Darvy’s feet were against his cheeks, they were ten times softer when he lapped across the digit on his tongue. The raccoon shuddered as he felt the hidden desires inside him fulfilled, to the degree that even he himself did not know how much he needed it. He licked again, then wormed his tongue between the snow leopard’s toes to get a better feel, a better taste. The soft skin of Darvy’s soles made fireworks inside the raccoon’s head go off; as did the raccoon’s erection.

But that alone wasn’t the only thing that excited Lucky. Not quite. There were also thoughts of how he’d abuse these soft soles when he was done. With each lick the raccoon became more eager, more relaxed. His laps turned into slurps, and his slurps turned into hungry bites, ravenous gnaws, and an unreserved make out session with the bound snow leopard’s feet.Lick after lick after lick Lucky felt himself become less inhibited, less restrained by the social norms that restricted his actions. Less adverse to the consequences of what he had done. His brain shut off and there was only him and the snow leopard’s feet in that moment, in that room.

He didn’t care.

He shoved Darvy’s toe, two toes in his mouth at a time. He sucked on them and licked the undersides and the top as his maw drooled all over the wiggly digits. Between the frustrated groans and whines from the snow leopard, all that Lucky heard was the wet sound of worship from his own mouth against the helpless snow leopard soles and toes.

They were fucking delicious, too.

And as he licked, the cravings burned hotter, the desires deepened. He had already satisfied one aspect, why not the others? Why not let his demons come out to play?

Lucky reached into the duffle bag and pulled out a fur grooming brush, with stiff, brisk metal bristles, and laid it upon the snow leopard’s arches without warning.

“Aaaa!! AAaahhaa haa haa haaah!!”

The sound of the snow leopard’s sudden screams of terrified laughter was music to his ears. He continued.

Rake after rake after rake against the soft, tender soles. His saliva only lubricated those helpless feet and made the brush’s effect multiply. The bristles danced upon the helpless arches as they drew lines after lines of scriggles in every direction the raccoon could think to direct. Up, down, circles and zigzags. One of the raccoon’s hands held onto the snow leopard’s ankles and the other assaulted the soles with the brush that seemed to have been specially made for the occasion. Scrape, scrape, scrape. The sound of the tings of the bristles was incredibly therapeutic to Lucky’s ears – as were the snow leopard’s screams of laughter.

It was also then that the raccoon realized how unkempt and unreserved the snow leopard was. The stoic, stone cold facade had been broken, and this was what it took – to exploit Darvy’s weakness that nobody else knew.

And that line of thought made him feel so incredibly powerful in the moment.

“Small dick, ticklish feet – Gosh, Darvy, who’d have thought you were such a pathetic thing without your cash?”

Darvy would have retorted something in anger if his throat wasn’t forced to spill out chains of laughter. Screamed laughter. Howled laughter. The snow leopard’s eyes were wet with tears and his muzzle was messed up with snot and drool. Darvy was like a banshee that could only shriek in unintelligible, helpless screeches.

Of course, the more unsightly the snow leopard became, the more it turned the raccoon on.

Lucky reached for a bottle and slathered the snow leopard’s soles in massage oil. Rubbed it in real good until every last inch was covered. All he heard was something that sounded like begging, akin to ‘no, no, no!’ – but the raccoon didn’t care. He smirked and the brush returned to treat the snow leopard’s sole with everything they deserved – maddening scratches that turned the bound snow leopard into a wiggly worm.

When the brush was abandoned, in their place were grooming gloves with silicone tips all over the palms. Lucky wore them on his hand and began to ravage the snow leopard’s tired, abused soles as Darvy could only writhe harder on the ground. The pathetic conduct made the raccoon feel vindicated, satisfied with the snow leopard’s greedy decision to cut his job. Amidst the cough and cries, Darvy sounded genuinely fearful of the raccoon’s wrath, and that was good – better than good. It was one of the few times that the snow leopard took him seriously, and Lucky enjoyed the power in his hands.

His fingers rushed through and between the tortured toes and pinched each one; he whistled and hummed a silly tune when he wiggled Darvy’s toes, before he slipped them back into his mouth and sucked as he tormented the soles once more with his finger and palms. His tongue squirmed between the wiggly toes, as did his silicone-nubbed fingers, and all that did was drive the snow leopard insane with a most ticklish sensory overload.

Still, he wasn’t done.

The raccoon’s sharp teeth glazed across the toe pads as Lucky wrangled the shaking soles. The snow-white snow leopard’s skin began to grow pinker and pinker, with a blush and a heat that he could not hide. The way they trembled made Lucky grin like an idiot – to have such a perfect pair of soles for himself was such a treat.

Such a treat that he didn’t want to let go of.

He reached into the duffle bag again, and from it retrieved a very special anklet. It was one that he had spent quite the sum on – to have it custom made from silver. Thin. Sleek. Very fashionable. The raccoon wrapped it around Darvy’s ankle and snapped it close. He flipped the one and only charm attached, which on it was a single word.

“Owned.” Lucky whispered. He felt shivers run up his spine.

Yes, Darvy’s feet belonged to him now, whether the billionaire liked it or not.

And, actually, more.

His hand made another journey into the bag of secrets, and this time, Darvy really did scream for his life.

“OHHHH!! N’OOOOOOOOOOOH!!”

The snow leopard shook his head and his cheek felt the rugburn against the raccoon’s cheap floor carpet. 

Lucky merely smirked as he flicked the snow leopard’s cock with his finger. It twitched. He heard the snow leopard cry out. He waited until the swelling faded from Darvy’s shaft and clicked the contraption over it. The snow leopard’s small, easily handled penis was looped into the head of the cage, where the raccoon clicked it close.

“NOOOOOOOOH!!” Darvy cried again as he felt the metal tighten around his most precious area.

The snow leopard’s balls were next. A ring looped around them at the base, where they were held snugly. Click. Click. Locked. The raccoon took a connecting plate and closed it around the snow leopard’s sack. It snapped into position and hid them from view, pressed them against the snow leopard’s taint. Darvy felt trapped like he had never been before. He turned his head to look between his legs and saw that his cock and balls had been completely isolated from the rest of his body, completely blocked off.

“Tungsten.” Lucky said, without being asked. “You know? Toughest metal on the planet. You’re not going to cut through this without a diamond saw, at least.”

The color just about drained from Darvy’s face. It wasn’t like he couldn’t get it off, but who did he know could possibly have a spare diamond saw in their toolbox – and keep their damn mouth shut? It was one thing to have his servers ‘hacked’, it was another to be locked in a chastity cage.

The raccoon laughed and finally took off the ring gag that prevented the snow leopard from speaking, and the blindfold that prevented him from seeing.

“Take it off! Take it off – please!” Darvy’s first words were, as the raccoon expected, desperate. He looked at it once, and turned away. He had been humiliated. “Please. Lucky – I’ll give you anything!”

“What are you panicking about? I haven’t even locked it yet.” The raccoon dangled the sinister looking lock in the snow leopard’s face. “I mean, it’s coming, but I want to hear you beg.”

“No! No! Please – Lucky – I’m begging you! Don’t do this! Don’t do this to me!”

“Or what? Come up with some threats. You’re good at that, Darvy. Rich boy like you? So uncreative!” The raccoon fiddled with the lock on the chastity device around the snow leopard’s crotch and left it unlocked for the time being. Darvy couldn’t even close his legs to stop the raccoon from doing that. He was truly powerless before Lucky, and the raccoon loved to see the snow leopard sweat.

“Lucky! Lucky! No! Noo! No threats! No retaliation, okay? I won’t come after you – believe me! Please believe me!” Darvy’s voice shook and wavered. It was so refreshing for the raccoon to finally be heard by the one person who seemed to ignore his technical advice whenever he could. “Lucky! Hear me out – just hear me out, okay? You don’t need to do this!”

“Maybe you’ll convince me to take it off with some good behavior, but until then, it stays on.”

“How am I supposed to – ugh..!” The snow leopard’s face was red as a tomato. “I can’t even pee in this thing!”

“You sit. Like a girl.” The raccoon added. “Like a good little pet. Like I said, you just have to prove to me you could be on your best behavior. A little insurance for me.”

“..Ugh!” The snow leopard bit his lips. “Okay! Just tell me how many millions you want!” Darvy begged again. “Ten? A hundred? I’ll give you a hundred million dollars. I’ll wire it to your bank. I’ll give you stocks. Whatever you want!”

“I see you still haven't learned your lesson, Darvy Charmings. You can’t buy your way out of everything. Not with me. You need to learn to respect people for who they are.” The raccoon chuckled. “So, to make sure you really understand that, we’ll do this the hard way.”

“No, no, no, NO!!”

Lucky grinned smugly as he reached between the snow leopard’s legs and clicked the lock shut. Like the chastity cage, the lock, too, was made of tungsten. It was a digital lock, the passcode for which was obvious that only Lucky knew. It was pricey, and Lucky hadn’t even taken out his toy for a spin himself yet – but this was so, so much more satisfying. More so than anything he could ever have done.

“Damnit!” The snow leopard whined. He had been defeated, and it showed in his voice. Anger. Exhaustion. Desperation. Resentment. Grievance. A deep sense of being inflicted with injustice. The very same feelings that Lucky had himself felt not that long ago. “How could you do this to me?!”

“Oh, and before you tried anything stupid – if you get the passcode wrong three times in a row, it  locks up permanently.” The raccoon was proud of himself. That was a lie, but Darvy doesn’t need to know that. He reached over and punched in a random number, to which the lock beeped menacingly. Then he did it again. The sheer horror on Darvy’s face was worth the theatrics. “That’s two. Now, let’s hope you don’t accidentally push any buttons, hmm?”

“Lucky..! Please!” 

“That’s Master Lucky to you now, pet.” The raccoon insisted.

“..Master Lucky.” The snow leopard corrected himself, with bitterness in his mouth as he said those words.

“Now, here’s what we’re gonna do, pet.” The raccoon tapped his foot on the chastity cage as he reached for his phone, to which Darvy was completely powerless to stop the photos of his cock, in a chastity cage, being stepped on by Lucky’s foot, being taken. His face was in full, perfect view, with a clearly used ring gag and blindfold on the floor next to him. Photo after photo was taken, and with each snap of the camera the snow leopard felt his dignity drain away. “I’ll keep these photos private – for now.”

“Nooo! Delete themmmm!”

“And you’re going to come back every week and we’re going to have our fun, pet, won’t we?” The raccoon tapped the cage again. For good measure, he rubbed his own foot on the warm metal. Darvy knew he was screwed when he felt no skin contact. His entire cock had been locked up. “You’ll come – willingly.”

“B-but-!” The snow leopard choked. 

“Let me finish.” The raccoon took another photo. This time it was a close up of the snow leopard’s face. Darvy was a mess, and Lucky loved it. “Or, rather, I’ll let you finish. You’re gonna come over, on my schedule, and you’re gonna come in with a good attitude; and then you’re gonna let me tie you up and have another go with those pretty feet of yours.”

“W-why would I do that?!” The snow leopard still had some fight in him. The raccoon only smiled in response.

“Behave well, and I’ll think about letting you cum once a week. Misbehave, and you lose the privilege.”

The snow leopard gulped. “O-only once?! Y-you’ll kill me!”

“Then you’ll be a good boy, won’t you?” The raccoon crossed his arms. His foot nudged the lock again. “Won’t you?”

“..Yes sir, Master Lucky.”

“Good. Now, I’m going to have another go with those feet of yours. I’m going to make you sing. Heh heh heh..!”

=The end.=

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Patreon Exclusive: Feb 2025 II

Corrupt-a-Pup

By KinkSaber

There was something too perfect about the way Gabriel carried himself. 

As far as everyone remembered, Gabriel had been a straight A student. He wasn't particularly good at one sport, but he was good at all of them so much that he had always been the first to be picked in gym class. He was well liked and dressed with style, and he had always been nice to everybody who met him. The golden retriever would go out of his way to meet and greet the less popular students in highschool, and put himself between the jocks and the nerds whenever things got heated. He had no enemies nor did anyone cared to make an enemy of him. Towards his friends, he was also loyal to a fault. 

There was definitely something much too perfect about the way Gabriel carried himself. Nobody was that spotless; or at least that's what Michael thought. 

Unlike the valedictorian, Michael was a broody, introverted, bloody mess who came from a broken home that couldn't give two shits about him if they tried. If he had gone missing for a week, the only thing they'd notice is that nobody did the dishes. Michael was, as a result, a bit of a wild cat. Always got in trouble, and even when he was not the culprit he had been blamed many times for the misdeeds of his peers. His shiny tuxedo coat did nothing to alleviate the suspicions cast on him. 

For someone like Michael, he couldn't believe how there existed a person as perfect as Gabriel. Nobody, nothing was that picture perfect. Everybody had a secret, a dark side, and something that couldn't be shown to the public. Gabriel had never slipped up.

After graduation, Michael’s obsession with Gabriel only grew. Out of sight, out of mind. His eighteenth summer was spent as an usher at the local movie theatre, and just when he thought he had seen the last of Gabriel, the golden retriever made an appearance in the sleepy town of Tempestfalls. 

“Hey! Mike! Michael!”

The tuxedo cat turned as he was called, only to come face to face with the golden retriever that he never thought would see again. He had merely assumed that the canine would move elsewhere for college. Somewhere more prestigious, like New Hawk U. Gabriel would have been perfect there in their computer science program. 

“Uhhh.. Gabriel?” The cat muttered with squinted eyes. He was going to ask what the canine was doing there, but the contextual clues of popcorn and a ticket was enough to fill the cat in. “Oh, hey. Long time no see, right?”

“It's only been two weeks!” The golden retriever laughed. “What are you doing here? I mean, I thought you’d be halfway across the country by now. You've always been good at the arts so I thought you'd go to Meowmi College for film or something!”

“Even with scholarships I couldn't afford it.” The cat was honest. There wasn't any reason to hide his already shitty life. “Figured I'd work the summer and save up for local. Tempestfalls isn't the worst school in the country, I guess. What about you? I thought you'd be in New Hawk City.”

“You know, same same but different.” Gabriel chuckled. “Got in, but my parents changed their minds at the last minute and said I should stay home for another year. Dad’s got a big client and couldn't spare the attention. I said I'll be fine to go alone. He wanted me to work at the law firm to get to know people, get some experience, save up money before he set me loose on the world, so we compromised and did things his way.”

“That didn't sound like a compromise, lawyerboy.” The cat dryly laughed. 

“Yeah well, he's not wrong. I know how sheltered I am.” The canine shrugged. “Lawyerboy? More like coffeeboy. I get everyone their coffee in the morning and take their lunch orders. Everyone knows I'm only there because of my dad. It's so embarrassing.”

“I'd trade you. Come rip tickets in my place and I'd go take coffee orders instead.”

“Deal!” The golden retriever gave that cat finger guns, then ripped his own ticket for the cat. “Here, now you gotta deal with Lauren’s nightmare coffee order.”

“Nice try, buddy. Do about three hundred more and we’ll see.” The cat laughed sarcastically. “Enjoy your movie. I’ll see you around, I suppose.”

—

Two hours later, Michael was on clean up duty in the same auditorium that Gabriel had exited. On one of the seats was a single mobile phone, the screen still on, upside down. Michael almost missed it had it not vibrated from a new message received. The feline picked it up and looked at the screen to see something he had not expected. It was a picture sent to the chat on the screen, so it didn’t count as snooping, right? He didn’t really go out of his way to uncover Gabriel’s secret, right?

In a mere moment, he heard a loud gasp behind him. Gabriel had doubled back to look for his lost phone. He had spent so much time crafting his image that he had never imagined it would have been a simple mistake that exposed him. 

“Wait! I can explain!!” Gabriel blurted; his blushed cheeks was the only explanation that Michael needed. There was nothing else the golden retriever needed to say, or could say, to repair the shattered image brought on by the feline’s discovery.

“So, feet, huh?”

The canine blushed harder. For the first time ever Michael thought the canine looked cute. It wasn’t his outward appearance, but how flustered Gabriel was with his innermost secret exposed. 

“Wuhn-wuh-wuh-wait!!” The canine blurted. Stuttered. Practically tripped all over himself verbally. It made the cat smile to see a less perfect Gabriel. It was a rare sight – a unique sight that he was sure nobody else got to see.

“I'm not judging.” The cat said. “Everyone's got their own vices.”

“Noooooo!” The canine’s denial didn’t work at all; it only made the situation feel more awkward and embarrassing for him. “Stop! Stop! Let's forget about it, ok? Please say you didn’t see anything! Please!”

“I saw everything though.” The cat chuckled. He couldn’t help but want to bully the canine more; see how far he could push the well tempered, well liked canine to go. How far the canine’s breaking point was. For once in his life he had the upper hand, and he wasn’t about to let it go to waste.

“How about cash?” Gabriel begged. “I'll give you all my money. Please don’t tell anyone!”

Michael liked that the canine was in such a panic that rational thoughts had left his head. Given their dispositions in their social circles, all that Gabriel needed to do was confidently deny everything, and everybody would happily take the popular golden retriever’s word for it. There was no need to ask, much less beg or bribe, the cat to keep his maws shut.

“I'm not blackmailing you, though?” The cat refused the offer. “And I didn't say I’d tell anyone. Sheesh. Just because I'm in the social rejects pile doesn’t mean I'm morally bankrupt.”

“You really won’t?” The canine couldn’t take the cat’s word at face value. He was too intimidated by the mere idea; and he had never felt such vulnerability in his life.

The cat handed the phone back to its owner and smirked. Just when the canine reached for it, the cat pulled his hand back.

“Well, if you think it’d take something to convince me, I’ll play along.” Michael chuckled. This could be fun. “Meet me back here in three hours. I’ll be done with my shift then. Then we’ll see what you’ve got to offer to buy my silence!”

—

Michael wasn’t really expecting Gabriel to actually be there when his shift ended. Like an obedient little puppy, the golden retriever wagged his tail just outside the entrance to the theater. It was a comfortable temperature outside, but Gabriel still had that blush plastered on his cheeks.

“Wait, you came? For reals?” The cat laughed when he saw Gabriel approach him. “How nice of you to entertain me!”

“..You still have my phone!” Gabriel said in a low voice, hyper self-aware of who he met up with. He didn’t want anyone to know he was there, least of all ask questions. Even though they were surrounded by complete strangers, Gabriel couldn’t help but be anxious that people they knew would show up out of nowhere. They were, after all, at the mall – the one and only place where anything happened in Tempestfalls.

“Yeah, I do, don’t I?” The cat patted his pocket, where he kept it. “Want it back? Follow me. We’ll go do something fun.”

“Come – come on!” Gabriel whinnied, but followed the cat anyway. Although he wasn’t particularly close with the cat, he knew better than the cat’s mis-reputation and was sure that Michael wouldn’t do anything to hurt anyone. He knew Michael was not a bully and not malicious, and so the canine went with him; half curious what the cat had in mind and half glad to just get away from the very public spaces they were in. Through the parking lot, across the street, and another two minute’s walk away from the suburban rows of houses later they ended up at an abandoned playground in the middle of the woods. “Where.. Where are we?”

“Scared?” The cat teased. 

“N-no!” The canine puffed his cheeks. It was quiet. Serene. Away from the noise of the city. He can see why the cat looked so at ease there. 

All that the cat saw, however, was the confident-turned-shy Gabriel, who continued to show him faces that he had never shown before. The shy, awkward canine was a side that had never come through in their previous encounters. Michael thought Gabriel was too perfect, and now that he’s seen something that wasn’t the very model of a high school teen movie, he felt much more positively about the canine. Just the fact that Gabriel’s life wasn’t picture perfect gave such a huge step in being approachable. 

“You know, you’re kinda cute like this.” The cat teased again. The canine’s tag wags did nothing to hide how he felt about the way the cat ribbed him.

Gabriel, in fact, kind of enjoyed it. To be spoken to so.. Informally. He was used to being circled by people who would try their best to impress him; to gain his favor one way or another. He was tired of all the suck-ups, the kiss-asses, and the yes-men. The way that Michael cut through the nicety that he was so used to was a breath of fresh air.

Then again, Michael also had the worst blackmail material on him, so many he was the one who tried to impress Michael now.

“S-stop.” Gabriel blushed. “Just give me my phone back!”

“Sure, sure. But you’ve gotta do something for me, first.” The cat couldn’t help but want to bully the golden retriever. For the second time he was certain that the canine wouldn’t go along with whatever he wanted, but he might as well try it, anyway. What was the worst that could happen? Gabriel went and spilled it to all of his friends? It wasn’t like the cat cared about what the popular crowd thought of him; and anyway, they had both graduated high school by then, and Michael would never see any of those clout-chasing losers again. He pushed himself onto the playground’s kid-sized wooden castle, where he sat on top of the tallest tower and let his legs dangle from the ledge. He shuffled and scooted to make himself more comfortable, got his tail out of the way of his ass, and then lifted his sneaker from the canine’s chest to his face, and wiggled his foot. “Take off my sneakers for me. I’ve been working a whole full shift in them.”

“Ugh.. Michael!” Gabriel whined. He knew at once where this was going. His cheeks blushed and his pants tightened around his crotch. “Come on, dude!”

“What?” The cat smirked deviously. “I just wanted to air my feet out!”

He said ‘feet’ with such emphasis. 

Gabriel looked around the surroundings to see that every angle had been covered by the wooden planks that acted as the castle wall. That must have been the reason why Michael bought him there – to get some privacy away from prying eyes.

“Do you want your phone back or not?” Michael dangled the bait in front of Gabriel. Carrot and the stick. He had read about it in one book or another. “Or did you prefer I post about it on the ‘gram?”

“Okay! Okay! Sheesh!” Gabriel didn’t have time to think about it anymore. The canine reached for the cat’s sneakers and unlaced them. One at a time, he yanked it from the cat’s heels until the shoe came loose, and dropped it against the planks of wood on the castle floor. “Gross! There, you happy?”

“You say gross, but I bet you’ve dreamed of being under my foot, haven’t you?”

Maybe it was the cat’s intuition, but yes, Gabriel had, in fact, fantasized about it once. As he did with all of the other hotties he got to know when he socialized. The sudden playful accusation brought the canine’s fantasy right back to the forefront of his mind. It was when he saw Michael by himself, only a couple weeks ago, in the school library. He thought himself well hidden when he saw the cat perched on top of the birdcage swing seat on the second floor. Michael dressed cuter then, with his shoulder-length hair tied up in a short ponytail and some degree of eye shadow that highlighted his pupils. The cat had claws polished in black, wore his skinny jeans, and the very same pair of sneakers. There was something about the image of an emo catboy that revved Gabriel’s engine. That was reality. The fantastical park came when he imagined how those feline toes must have smelled after being trapped in those sneakers for the day. In the sunlight through the floor-to-ceiling window where the birdcage furnished the room.

He couldn’t help but breathe in now for a whiff of those feet. The cat’s socked foot was a half arm’s length away, and still there was an equal and opposite physical reaction to his actions. They smelled gorgeous to the canine, who never had the chance to get so close to anyone ever. His cheeks turned pink and the cat knew exactly what happened.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” The cat chuckled. Gabriel grimaced. He always had the perfect mask to put on, but it’d seem that he was emotionally neutered right now. He couldn’t help but breathe in again, with a fuller inhale this time, to really catch the cat’s scent in the wind.

“I do..” Gabriel caught himself taking another lungful of the cat’s scent before he finished his sentence. He wasn’t convincing anyone – the cat or himself. “..Not!”

“So that your-character-here commission of a golden retriever under someone’s foot.” The cat started, and those simple words sent the canine into a full blown panic. “Mmhm. Purely a coincidence?”

“Stop! Stop! I can explain that!” The canine’s eyes were practically in a swirl as he scrambled to think of a reason. An excuse. Anything that could make sense in its place. “Uh, uhhhh..!”

“You’re cute.” The cat laughed. “I’m not even judging. You act like you’re a virgin.”

The canine was silent. He had no response to that.

“Oh my god, you are a virgin!”

“Shut up!!” The canine covered his face and turned away. He never cared about losing his v-card as much as he did right then and there.

“Whoa, that’s crazy! A popular guy like you? I thought you’d have done it already, for sure!” The cat teased.

“Can we please drop the subject!” The canine looked for a way out. “B-b-besides! That’s n-n-not the most important thing in life!”

“Fair, fair, fine.” The cat chuckled. “So I’m going to assume that you’ve never sniffed someone’s feet either, huh? Despite how badly you want to.”

“Of course not!” The canine howled with shame. “It’s just a phase! I’ll get over it, okay? Sheesh! Gimme my phone back so I can go home already!”

“Last I checked, Gab-o, fetishes aren’t something you just ‘get over’.” The cat pointed out. “And I’m perfectly happy to let you sniff my feet.”

“I don’t – don’t..!” Gabriel turned to face the cat, who held up his foot to his face and waited for the moment to plant his toes across the canine’s nose. The toes squeezed, and Gabriel couldn’t help but steal a whiff – a deep breath of the cat’s scent.

It was so much better than he could ever imagine.

It had a clean smell. Sweaty, but not overtly so. There was no unpleasantness, and it was not strong. The scent was mild and gentle, and without any foulness to them. Salty to his nose, Gabriel could almost taste it on his tongue. He took another whiff in silence and shame. The tones came through better. There was something floral or fabric-y, like the smell of clean laundry, even though Michael had worn them for hours. They smelled good. No, better than good. They smelled amazing. A third inhale. The canine’s body trembled and he felt his legs go weak. He froze on the spot. There was nothing he could do to remove himself. Hook, line, and sinker. He was caught by the cat’s cast and he was instantly addicted. 

“If you didn’t, you’d recoil and back off like a normal person did.” The cat stuck out his tongue. He was going to pull his foot back, but then as soon as his toes stopped the squeeze, the canine reached and held his foot on the face. He felt the heat that came from Gabriel’s cheeks. Michael understood how hard it was for the canine to act like that, and decided to relent on the aggressive teasing he had in mind. Gabriel gets one freebie. One. Then it’s right back to verbally humiliating the cute doggo.

“..Shit..!” Gabriel moaned as he took in another lungful of the fair scent. His crotch pressed against his pants, and by then his erection was incredibly obvious to the naked eye. He looked up only to see the cat’s stupid, adorable smirk plastered all over that damned feline face. “Okay, okay! You got me! Sheesh..!”

The cat was evidently satisfied with that answer, and rewarded Gabriel with the other foot over his face. The fresh, yet-unsniffed foot added a level of excitement to the golden retriever’s mind, so much that the canine was overwhelmed. His legs grew weak, his knees buckled, and he fell to the wooden floor of the playground castle.

“Hey! They don’t smell that bad!” The cat laughed and spread his toes through the sock. 

“..No, they don’t.” The canine admitted. “They smell.. Good. Wait. Holy crap! Why am I telling you this?!”

“Because you want to give ‘em another whiff, don’t you?” The cat wiggled and curled his toes in that sock, and noticed the canine’s eyes following their movement. “But that’s not the only thing you want, is it?”

“Yeah, I want my phone back!” The canine whined. “You’re killing me here!”

“I’m thinking you might want to take my sock off.” The cat teased. “And maybe do something more than just sniffing.”

“No!” Gabriel shouted back immediately, but there was a look of regret on his face as soon as those words left his mouth. “Wait! No! I mean, no! No, no, no!”

“You’re cute.” The cat yanked the sock off his left foot and revealed his bare sole. He curled and clenched his toes again in full view of the canine. That was all that was needed to break the logic center of Gabriel’s mind. “So? Nobody’s around. Do you want to give them a kiss or not?”

“I, I, I..!” Gabriel stammered. “But..! My phone, and..!”

“Shut up. Crawl over here and give my big toe a kiss.” The cat commanded. It was as if Gabriel’s thought processes turned off. Shut down. The power cable was simply yanked from the outlet. The cat’s orders gave him an excuse to do it. An excuse to indulge both him and the cat’s curiosity. Both him and the cat’s desires for more. It was the excuse that he needed – in that moment, and in his life. He leaned forward and crawled on his hands and knees, put his lips to the cat’s big toe, and gave it a smooch. The cat rewarded Gabriel with a pat of his socked foot over the canine’s head. “There’s a good boy.”

“I’m.. not!” The golden retriever’s face was tomato red now. Once the act was complete it was like his mind snapped back to reality; but the gravity under his feet still escaped him. 

“Are you satisfied with this? With just this?” The cat reached into his pocket to return the canine’s phone. As he held his arm out to offer it back, he locked gazes with Gabriel. “You know, you could take your phone and leave now if you want. Or, you know.”

Gabriel took his phone, took a look at it, then back at Michael.

“Or, what?” He explored the option. He didn’t know where Michael was going with that open ended question. “Or, what, exactly?”

“I think you know. Deep in your mind you know you want more.” The cat suggested. “You can’t be happy with just a couple sniffs and a kiss, can you?”

“..No?” Gabriel’s expression turned sad. The canine had everything written on his face. It was, in fact, adorable. 

“So? I’m giving you a choice here, Gab-o.” The cat reiterated. “You can leave and we can pretend this never happened, or you can come with me, and I show you how deep the rabbit hole goes.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” The canine’s heart raced.

“It means if you want to get your dumb mutt face stepped on, you better clear your weekend schedule.” The cat huffed. He had never had to be so blunt about things like this. It was as if Gabriel actually had never heard a single sexual innuendo in his life, but that’s what made him so cute compared to the social butterfly mode that he was always in. This Gabriel was approachable. This Gabriel, he could bully. The best part was, he wanted to bully him so much more.

The canine didn’t need to answer, because his tail did it for him. As soon as the suggestion was made, Gabriel wagged that appendage like his life depended on it. Michael was pretty sure that Gabriel’s tail might have been an entirely separate entity. A Gab-o-Mood meter that detected what the canine’s thoughts were at the moment. The cat smiled. 

Michael threw his sock at the canine, who caught it with his hands. A look of confusion was on his face, as if he asked what that was for.

“Keep it.” The cat hopped off the castle and slipped his feet back into his shoes. “I’m sure you’ll miss my scent until we meet up again.”

“Wh-who-who-who said we’ll meet again?!” Gabriel replied, all flustered. “I di-di-didn’t say that!”

Michael smirked and pushed his shoe-toe against the whimpering canine’s crotch. The whimper turned into a moan, and he felt Gabriel lightly hug his leg with both arms, but the hug was withdrawn as quickly as it appeared when his foot was no longer in contact.

“Alright puppy, whatever you say.” The cat ruffled the canine’s hair and gave him head pats. The moan soon turned into a dog-pur. “You know where I work. I’m there at the same time every day. You decide if you want to huff my toes or not.”

Gabriel sat on the wooden planks and watched Michael leave him behind. His legs were still weak. He looked at the sock in his hand, and then back at Michael, who didn’t turn back to look at him once. Gabriel was flustered. He could just leave the sock there and, like the cat said, pretend none of it ever happened.

Or…

…

…

…

The canine brought the sock to his nose and huffed again.

=The end=

Patreon Exclusive: Feb 2025 I

Let Sleeping Rabbits Lie

By KinkSaber

It wasn’t a great day for Cael. There were massive delays in the customs lines and it seemed everybody had forgotten to remove their coins or belts or, hell, a whole ass metallic plate right before they went through the metal detectors. It was rare for the rabbit to be so rushed that he ran directly to the gates; and what’s worse was that he had been forced to skip his customary preflight coffee. 

That was probably what set him up to be in a poor mood. Caffeine addiction is no joke. The moment he found his seat and settled his luggage, the rabbit pulled the eye mask over his face, stuffed earplugs into his fluffy ear holes, clicked his seat belt, and drifted to sleep. All was well for roughly ten minutes, when the passenger behind him bumped into his seat and jolted him awake. No big deal. Everyone was still boarding. These things happened.

Then he felt a kick. It wasn’t just an accidental kick, but a full on push, backed by the force of malicious intent and entitlement. The rabbit groaned. He swore he’d do something if it happened again, but he’d let it go if it was the very last tim–

Bang! His whole seat shook as the passenger behind him pushed his feet into the back of the seat. The seat to his right, the window seat, was empty, but he felt something slam against his arm and jerked his entire body forward. The rabbit was mad. This had not been the dream vacation that he wanted. Far from it. First it was that wolf who gave him hell for sixteen hours, then he lost sleep that first night – however fun it was – and then it was just a string of bad luck all around. The museum he wanted to see was closed. The limited edition donut shop was sold out when it was his turn. The souvenirs he bought were left on the bus by accident. He’s had enough. 

Cael pulled off his blindfolds and the earplugs, stood up into the aisle, and just as he was to scream at the asshole who seated behind him, their eyes met. The other passenger gasped first, and then Cael’s anger quickly dissipated and turned into thoughts of revenge.

“Oh, hi again, Chad!” Cael forced a smile on his face. It was the most terrifying smile that the wolf had ever seen in his life. Everything else on the rabbit’s face was pure seething rage served on a soggy smile sundae. “So nice to see you again, why, headed back to New Hawk City, are we?”

“Awh, shit!” The wolf gulped. “Heh-heh-hey! So, uh, good to see you again!”

Chad tried to pull his foot back, but found that it was completely stuck between the two seats in front of him. He winced and pulled again, only to find that his poor sitting posture made it impossible for him to exert any real strength. His entire weight rested on his lower back in the exact way that his mom had told him time and time again not to be seated. 

He recalled how much tickle torture the rabbit had put him through – a whole day and another whole night of almost nonstop tickles. There was, of course, some fun bits mixed in; and after he promised seven times over to never be an asshole on a plane again, the rabbit finally released the bondage and freed him. Oh, yes, there were fun bits. It would be a straight up lie to claim that the wolf didn’t enjoy being handled so roughly. He enjoyed being put in his place. The punishment. The rabbit’s authoritative voice and manner. Gods, that was erotic as hell. It was something the wolf never had the chance to explore. Although it ate away a day of his vacation, he can’t deny that he would do it all over again in a heartbeat. 

“If I recall correctly, didn’t you make me some sort of promise, hmm?”

“Oh, well, did I now?” The wolf put on his nicest ‘customer service smile’, but he was sweating on the inside. His brain was completely empty; he couldn’t think of a single way to get out of his predicament. The headphones around his neck suddenly felt as heavy as a chained collar, as if he was a prisoner to the rabbit’s punishment once again. “C’mon, bro, we’re in public now – you can’t do that to me here!”

“So you do realize you’re in public? And you’re still acting like this?” The rabbit nodded his head at the foot that was stuck between the two seats. “Gosh, Karma really does come around real quick for you, huh?”

“Can we talk about this?” The wolf panicked. He wasn’t opposed to the idea of being tickled by the rabbit again, but he would really fucking preferred that it didn’t happen in front of 300 other passengers; each one which could record the entire thing on their phone. He really wanted to not go viral for being someone’s tickle bitch on a flight.

That made his cock sprang to life. The wolf knew he was in so much trouble. He should have learned his lesson, but some people just aren’t capable of learning from their first or second or even third mistake.

The rabbit leaned forward until his face was next to the whimpering wolf. “I’m quite sure we’ve already talked about this extensively, haven’t we, Chad?”

“I.. uh, I suppose we have. But we can talk about it again, can’t we?”

“Better cover yourself up, Chad. Or the flight attendant is going to see your raging hard every time they walk by – and I might just ding them for a couple extra diet sodas.” The rabbit pointed at the wolf’s crotch, which now sported a very obvious, a very large bulge. “You don’t want them to think you’re some kind of tickle pervert, do you?”

“Eep!” The wolf scrambled to rip the plastic bag open and threw the blanket over himself. His cheeks blushed as he pressed down on his crotch to hide the now even-more-obvious bulge. “Oh no! Oh no!” The wolf cried as he shuffled around to get his complementary pillow and placed it over himself. At last he was modest again, and as a bonus he finally wiggled his foot free, but not before the rabbit’s gotten a couple good pictures on his phone – of both the trapped feet, and the tented pants.

“Ah, another picture to add to my collection!” Cael exclaimed. “Thank you very much for the cooperation, Chad. Lovely to run into you again – and if you give me any fucking grief for the next sixteen hours, I’m going to make sure your feet and face are plastered all over feetsky – understand?”

“Eep!! Yes sir!” The wolf whimpered once more, defeated. “No kicking, no pushing, no playing with the tray table. I won’t even bump into you by accident! I promise.”

“Hmph. We’ll see.”

Cael was lucky that the flight was not full, and he ended up sitting alone with the seat next to him and across the aisle completely empty; but that promise to leave him undisturbed lasted all of three hours, when the wolf slid his feet into his flip flops, then pushed himself up to use the bathroom. It was a mere nudge, but that was enough to wake the rabbit up, and Cael was never in a good mood when he was prematurely awakened – especially when he was traveling free of caffeine. As soon as the wolf walked back towards his seat, he felt cold chills run down his spine. The rabbit’s glare was like daggers, ready to cut him into a hundred thousand pieces. Cael wiggled his finger and signaled the wolf to approach, and the wolf knelt down by the rabbit and lent his ear.

“Before you get angry, I’m sorry!” Chad whispered with both his hands clamped together, his fingers interlaced to beg for mercy. “It really was an accident!! Please don’t plaster me all over feetsky!”

“Hmph! Well, now that I’m awake, I’m bored.” The rabbit yanked on the wolf’s shirt so his face was closer. He lowered his voice and whispered. “You’re gonna go back there, sit down by the window seat, and put your foot through the slot – I’m going to have a little fun – and that’s your punishment.”

“Awh, come on!” The wolf whined. “There’s people around!”

“It’ll be an opportunity to learn to be less disruptive, then! Or would you rather I upload my entire Chad collection to feetsky, now? I certainly don’t mind paying the 39.99 for wifi in this case.”

“Eep! I get it! I get it!” The wolf caved in. 

“Make sure you cover up good – or you’re gonna tell the nice flight attendant why you’re such a ticklish, big, bad wolf!” Cael reminded the wolf. “Actually, I’d like to see that. Heh..!”

The wolf did as he was told, and he made damn sure to use both of the blankets – which included the one placed on the empty seat. He felt Cael shift over to the window seat, too, and so he obediently and stealthily slotted his right foot  through where the armrest was, between the seat and the window. The blanket first went over himself, then, stuffed with two pillows and his free leg, he managed to construct a miniature fort that hid the fact that his foot was a row in front of him. 

Cael looked around to make sure he was in the clear before he unbuckled his belt and pulled it out of his pant-loops. With the makeshift bondage gear, he secured the wolf’s ankle to the armrest, and then used the blankets over his body, where he leaned against the window, to hide the wolf’s feet from view. The set up was perfect – from the aisle it only looked as if the two passengers had switched seats for a better napping experience.

For the rabbit though, this was the best entertainment he could ask for on a flight. With the wolf’s foot stuck there, he could play with the wiggly toesies to his heart’s content. Cael started with the light touches of his fingertips against the sole and arch of the wolf’s foot, and as he made contact he felt the foot jerk away. Excellent. He loved how sensitive Chad was the first time and he loved it just as much that second time. The way Chad recoiled at every touch made the rabbit feel so playful; and what’s more was that Cael heard the way the wolf’s stifled laughter sneak through between the seats. The toes clenched, the foot jerked away, and the wolf tried desperately to hold in what was clearly a losing battle between his will and the need for him to burst out in silly giggles.

Cael pinched the wolf’s big toe between his fingers and wiggled it against the other digits. He whistled the tune of ‘this little piggy’, just loud enough over the engine’s roar, for the wolf to catch the melody. The silliness of the tune was like an acute jab in the wolf’s side, and punched the giggles out of him.

“Pfftb!” The wolf wheezed, and quickly covered his mouth with the palm of his hand. He bit his lower lip and exhaled, the warm moist air escaped between his fingers the same way the rabbit’s fingers danced between his toes. Curiously, he spread his digits to allow better access for the rabbit to traverse freely. He didn’t know whether he did it consciously, or whether the prospect of his feet being taken advantage of excited him. In either case, though, it felt to him as if he couldn’t control how his toes spread and wiggled against the rabbit’s fingers. He pulled his leg back with every other touch, and it was Cael’s belt that prevented him from escaping his predicament. 

It didn’t take long for the rabbit to be bored of tickling the wolf’s sole with his fingers, and so other toys joined the fray. Cael found a pen that was in his pocket, and so the rabbit clicked the instrument and smirked as he wrote demeaning messages on the wolf’s sole.

“I’m.. an.. entitled.. Asshole.” Cael said out loud, just enough for the wolf to hear him and groan. “Tickle.. me.. silly! I love.. Disturbing.. Other.. people!”

“I do naw-haw-hawt!” The wolf complained. “It was an ac-shii-hii-hii-dent!”

“Mmhmm.“ The rabbit was not convinced. When he was sure nobody was looking, he ducked under the covers and gave the wolf’s foot a sniff. They smelled of shampoo and just a smidge of tasty feet sweat; possibly from the long customs line and the boarding. Nothing offensive about them, and in fact, Cael was quite turned on by the scent. The rabbit opened his mouth and gave the foot a quick lick around where he had written, and then gave the wolf’s toes kisses and suckles where he could; occasionally he resurfaced and checked to make sure he was still incognito – he was. Very much so. The other passengers on the other side of the aisle were all asleep as far as he could tell. He returned back under the blanket and gave the foot a good, long lick. Tasty.

“Yeesh!” The wolf blushed. Chad couldn’t help but get more and more aroused by the feeling of the rabbit’s short, stubby tongue against his sole and toes. The more he was turned on, the more he tried to shuffle into a more comfortable position as the pillow was barely doing its job at hiding his immodesty. “Come on, Cael – it’s getting.. Bad!”

“And you’re a big bad wolf, so deal with it.” Cael chuckled and continued to scratch his finger along the wolf’s arches as his tongue flickered between the digits. “Mmm! Punished wolfy toes are so tasty, don’t you agree?”

“Hee-hee-hee! Wh-whatever you say! Cael! C’mon! Cael!” Chad hissed. His body shook and squirmed. When he turned his face over he saw he had caught the attention of one of the passengers from across the aisle, who rolled his eyes at the previously disruptive wolf. “Noo..!” The wolf’s face flushed a bright red when the thought of him being exposed ran across his mind. He was so embarrassed, even though it was all only an imagined scenario in the wolf’s mind. “Cael! Cael!” The wolf hissed. “People are looking!”

“Let them look, then!” The rabbit laughed. “Let them look at the big, bad, ticklish wolf! That’ll teach ya to not bump into every chair with your big bad booty! That’ll teach you to keep the volume down! That’ll teach you to – ooh! Wiggle your toes again! I liked it when you did that!”

“Damn it, you stupid rabbit..!” The wolf slid down and lifted his other, free leg. He planted the heel on the edge of the seat and tented the blanket above his crotch to hide the scene. He shifted the pillow under the blanket, but was careful to not press it against his raging cock. He was sensitive down there; more so than he ever thought was possible. The wolf was no virgin, and he had been with males and females alike, across a plethora of species; and yet nobody ever made him feel the way he did with the rabbit – and they weren’t even doing the whole thing properly. “Why is this so good?” The wolf whispered to himself. The rabbit heard, and snorted in response. “No! Don’t you dare! This is.. This is on you! You’re a weirdo!”

“And you’re an asshole.” The rabbit laughed again. “An asshole who got what he deserved. You’re a weirdo too!”

The rabbit stopped long enough to turn around, where he propped himself up with his knees on the chair. He looked the blushy wolf in the eye and smirked deviously.

“You know, if you hate it, go tell the flight attendant.” He whispered slyly.

“..Noo!” The wolf recoiled at the thought.

“Go on, I’ll ding ‘em for ya.” The rabbit looked at the wolf’s screen and began pressing buttons. The lights. The fan. It called attention to them, and the wolf grabbed the rabbit’s hand to stop it.

“You idiot!” The wolf growled lightly. “People are gonna see!”

“Oh, so the big bad wolf is enjoying his in-flight pedicure, isn’t he?” The rabbit licked his lips. “Of course if you hate it you could call that nice lady back and make a complaint. You’re good at complaining, aren’t you? Big bad Chad and his big bad attitude. Go, go on. Make a complaint. I dare ya. Unless you’re fucking lovin’ this like the big bad weirdo that you are!”

“Grr!” The wolf’s face turned a shade redder. He felt the heat rise from his cheeks all the way to his ears, where they turned pink too. He hated the fact that he was being so humiliated by the rabbit, but he also found the entire ordeal fresh. It excited him. His heart pounded in his chest. Despite the defensive, apologetic protests that came out of his mouth, his body craved more. Needed more. Hungry and thirsty for more. His body could not handle it if the rabbit stopped now. As if his cock drove all of his thoughts, the wolf briefly entertained the idea of continuing their little playtime even after the trip. How would he ask? Would Cael even want to see him again? The notion that he might not ever find Cael again saddened him a bit. New Hawk City was a huge place, after all – Well over eight million people lived there. It’d be impossible to just run into the rabbit again.

“If you cried about it like a little baby, I’ll stop.” The rabbit mocked relentlessly. “Mess your pants and scream. We’ve had some chair-kicking assholes on this flight, but no babies yet. You can fill that role, can’t you? Go on. Gimme some of that weh-weh and I’ll let you off the hook. You love the attention, don’t you?”

He loved the attention, didn't he? 

The wolf gulped. He had done enough bullying in his life to know when he was being bullied, and he fucking loved it beyond all words could describe. He had no idea how much he fucking loved being the rabbit’s punching bag. His cock twitched and he swore he felt his undies feel a little moist. The wolf shuffled and ignored the question. He looked away, only for the rabbit to circle around the seats and plopped down next to him. He felt the rabbit’s breath next to his perked ear. The wolf froze like prey stalked by a predator. Chad held his breath, unsure of what to expect from the rabbit now that he was so close.

“You love my attention, don’t you?” Cael asked. He intentionally exhaled so that the warm air fogged over the wolf’s cheek. The stark contrast of the cool dry air and the warm, moist breath made the hair on the wolf’s neck stand up. “Don’t you, you little perverted wolf?”

Chad nodded his head silently, and so fast that he was sure nobody else saw his reply.

The rabbit reached into the blanket cocoon and searched for the wolf’s pants. The wolf curled up and let the rabbit do what he wanted. The rabbit’s hand was hot; and it wandered over his stomach, over his crotch, flicked the button and zipper of the wolf’s jeans; and then slipped inside the wolf’s pocket.

Chad gulped harder. His face was almost entirely red. 

“Dude..!” The wolf mumbled. “We’re in public..!”

“I know.” The rabbit smirked. From the pocket Cael retrieved the wolf’s wallet. He remembered where the wolf kept it from that time at the hotel. He opened it and retrieved the driver’s license. A quick tap on his camera app and the rabbit had the wolf’s address saved in the gallery of his phone. When Chad looked up, he saw the rabbit turn the phone to him. His name had already been entered into the rabbit’s contacts. All that was missing were seven digits. “Well?” The rabbit asked. “You gonna be my personal tickle toy after we get back, too, or are you into being blue balled?”

Chad entered his number and hit save, and in return he got a little peck on the cheek from Cael. It was enough to make the wolf dizzy.

“Now I’m gonna return to my seat and play that cute little foot of yours.” Cael said triumphantly. “And until we land, you’re gonna think about how you should have let sleeping rabbits lie the next time you’re on a plane. Oh, and don’t make plans next weekend. I’m gonna come quiz you on travel etiquette, and gosh, Chad, if you don’t pass my test, you’re really gonna get it then!”

=The end=

Patreon Exclusive: Jan 2025 II

Tickling In The New Year

By KinkSaber

In the eleventh hour of the year of the dragon, there was a single lonesome figure still seated upon the throne of the heavenly court, in the room of inexorable truths and beauty of the grand jade palace. Between the peach trees of immorality in the empress’ garden slither a shadowy figure towards the audience hall where the dragon sat in his diminished glow.

“Still here, Dragon?” The serpent hissed. “Isn’t it about time for you to vacate? Pry your megalomaniac ass off that nice comfy chair? Mother says it’s my turn.”

“I’d like to see you try, Snake.” The bulk, elder eastern dragon chuckled. Despite being thousands of years old, he looked no older than forty or forty-five. His hair was silver, not gray, and he smelled of fragrant hyacinth. 

“Must we do this song and dance every time?” The great serpent sighed. “Can’t you make it easy for yourself – for me – just once in your life? None of the others are as difficult as you.”

“Except Ox. He’s twice as stubborn as I am.” The dragon pointed out. “But I’m more powerful.”

“The end of your year draws near, Dragon. Your power wanes as the new moon.” The serpent flexed the bones in his body. “And I feel mine rise. Last chance, Dragon. Willingly remove yourself, or I will be forced to evict you from the seat.”

“Once again, Snake, I’d like to see you try.” The dragon chuckled.

“Same as every other time, then; and yet you’ve never won against me.” The snake’s eyes glowed a most fortuitous red. The two waited as the final seconds passed before the heavenly bell ran throughout the celestial realm. The serpent’s powers exploded from his core and surrounded him; wrapped both of them with a fine mist that reeked of unbound glory and golden exaltation. “Aah, yes. Do you feel that? Your time has gone, and mine has come.”

“We shall see.” The dragon finally pushed himself from the throne, and as he gathered all of his essence in one attack, a most fiery flame of golden yellow and scarlet red flooded the room as the dragon’s power rushed towards the serpent. 

It was, of course, in vain. The serpent’s power coated and shielded him from the flames that would have melted iron like ice, the same way the mist protected the pillars, floor, and walls of the jade palace. He had more than enough power to spare. It was as he said. The year of the dragon was over; and it was the serpent’s time to brilliantly shine. 

“Embarrassing.” The snake commented, and launched an attack of his own. His main body split into a nest of snakes, each one shared a color of his rainbow scales; each one shared his consciousness and will. He came as a tsunami that overwhelmed the dragon within seconds, so much so that the dragon had no time to react to the flood of serpents that buried him within the slithering mass.

From within the nest, two large boa bound the dragon’s wrists together and his arms were pulled behind his back; two others bound his legs together by the thick, muscular thighs. Vipers and cobras weaved and locked his knees together, lifted them upwards as they tilted the dragon back, and as the snake’s enchantment continued each of the serpents that bound the dragon turned to jade-decorated stones. Soon, the dragon was trapped by unbreakable statues of the snake’s likeness, and from within the nest the true body coiled the dragon’s torso as the two came face to face once more.

“Hello, brother.” The snake greeted the dragon, his tongue licked the air and the tip of the dragon’s lips.

“Hmph!” The dragon scoffed. “Childish tricks.” He couldn’t move. His body was encased in the snake statues. 

“More than enough to keep you where you belong, brother.” The snake said. “Should have abdicated when the chance was offered to you; and now you shall pay the price, as is tradition.”

“You and your.. Childish games!” The dragon frowned. “I am the dragon of the Zodiacs. Majestic. Honored. Revered. The mortals look upon my image and tremble in fear and awe!”

“That is because the mortals don’t know how ticklish you are, dear brother. If only they knew – if only they saw, you really believe they’d worship someone as giggly and silly as you?” The snake snickered. “Where shall I start this time? Your tender pits? Your skittish tummy? Or the time tested, your weakest spot; those deliciously sensitive feet of yours?”

“Of all of us Zodiacs, only you, Snake, could come up with such disrespectful foolery!”

“And of all of us Zodiacs, only you, Dragon, are as ticklish as your ego is inflated.” The snake’s tail extended towards the dragon’s chin and stroked it gently. “You know, we do this every single time your year comes to an end. One wonders if you, perhaps, and dare I say it – if you enjoy our little exchange more than you let on.”

“Hogwash. Absolute hogwash!”

“But is it, though?” The snake’s tail tickled the scales that protected the dragon’s neck. “Tell me you don’t love being under my – well, tail!”

“I..!” The dragon blushed. “I don’t!”

“Say you don’t enjoy being bound by my enchantments. Say you don’t enjoy being held helplessly by my spells of stone. Coiled and trapped. Tickled at my mercy until you finally cave in. Sure is suspect that you fall into my trap every year for something you don’t enjoy, Dragon.”

“I do not.” The dragon emphasized, but he felt giddy inside. They both knew he enjoyed it, but as the snake said – that song and dance was their tradition. He loved it deeply. He loved to antagonize the snake, who would then punish him for his insolence. He loved the chase and the high.

“And who’s spewing hogwash now, brother dear?” The snake coiled around the dragon’s neck and gave him another peck of kiss. “I can feel your heartbeat; how it became turbulent as a raging river; unpredictable as the unforgiving sea. I can feel your body turn hot. I can feel your lust grow. Just admit it. You love being a helpless little tickle bitch under me.”

“I do.. Not!” The dragon insisted, with little authority or certainty. What he said did not convince anybody, least of all himself.

“You love being my mindless tickle toy.”

“I do not!”

“Then beg me to free you, and I will.” The snake challenged the dragon. “Go on. Say you don’t want it and I’ll let you go.”

“I will not stoop to begging!” The dragon huffed. “Do your worst!”

“Oh, I don’t think I’ll fall for your games this time!” The snake hissed. “No. If you want to be tickled, you should be asking for it. Act your age, Dragon.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” The dragon growled. He did not like what the snake implied.

“Maybe I had it wrong all these years, brother. Maybe I shouldn’t demand you beg for your freedom. I should have demanded you to beg for pleasure all this time!”

The dragon’s cheek blushed harder when he understood what the snake meant.

“Yes, that’s right. If you want me to fulfill your secret pleasure, you’ll have to beg for it.” The snake chuckled. “Speak up now. I’m listening.”

“I don’t.. I don’t..!” The dragon choked. Does he really not want it?

“I don’t have all day, brother. I got the whole mortal world to watch over.” The snake tutted. “I’ll give you to the count of five. Beg for the mind breaking tickles you crave, or you can spend the next eleven years being the horny, frustrated, blue-balled tickle gooner that you are.”

“N-never! You wouldn’t!” The dragon’s voice cracked.

“Five. Four. Three.” The snake counted, and then paused and glared at the dragon intently. “Two.”

“Hnnngg..!” The dragon moaned, and bit his tongue.

“Two and a half.” The snake sternly warned. The dragon could tell the snake wasn’t just calling his bluff. If he wanted to satisfy his urges, now was the time to speak up. The serpent wasn’t playing around.

“Yeesh! Okay! Okay!” The dragon choked down his pride. The humiliation hits differently after the thousands of years of their game. His admission was fresh. Made him feel small and weak. Made him feel vulnerable. It put him in the headspace he wanted. His cheeks burned, but he couldn’t be more excited if he tried. “I want it.”

Naturally, that didn’t satisfy the snake’s demands. He needed to hear the dragon say it. Say every word. Every syllable. He pressed.

“You want what?” The snake smirked.

“I want – I can’t believe I’m saying this – I want to be tickled.” The dragon finally let the words slip from between his lips. His face burned as hot and red as his flames. Hotter. It was a good feeling.

“Heh.” The snake remained face to face with the dragon. His tongue licked the air, and the dragon’s lips. He moved in for a better kiss. “Such a good boy. Tell me what you are.”

“I am.. Ugh..!” The dragon moaned. His cock throbbed and his toes curled in anticipation. “I’m a gooner. Tickle me and let me goon.”

“Go on.” The snake wanted more. He, too, was greedy.

“I’m a horny tickle gooner.” The dragon’s voice trailed. The once dominant, powerful image of the dragon was nowhere to be seen. “I need to be tickled. So much. Please.”

“That’s what I’m talking about.” The snake sighed. He felt shivers run up his spine. “You’re just a weak little dragon, aren’t you? You crave the tickles, don’t you?”

“Oh gods, yes.” The dragon admitted once more. 

“My brother. My horny, broken, tickle toy.” The snake teased. “Tell me where you want to be tormented first. Your pits, tummy, or toes.”

“Tickle my toes.” The dragon inhaled sharply. “Please. I can’t wait another second. Bind them up, pull them back, and tickle my toes until I break.”

“Break like a little dragon tickle bitch.” The snake commented.

“Yes.”

“Beg again.”

“Please tickle my gooner toes.” The dragon moaned. He shifted in his bondage. “Gods, please tickle my gooner toes. I’m begging you. I’ve waited so long. I’ve been a good boy.”

The snake’s many tails coiled towards the dragon’s toes; each one thin but stronger than cables of steel; each one found their target and pulled their own digit back until the dragon’s sole was stretched and taut. The scales were soft and the skin was creamy. The snake ran his duplicate tails over each of the dragon’s toe pads.

“You kept them nice and tender for me, didn’t you?” He teased. “Soaked them in milk and honey – and, I suspect, the dews from the immortal peach trees.”

“Please don’t tell the mother empress.” The dragon whimpered as he was caught red handed.

“What a heavy price you’d have to pay for my silence.” The snake hissed. He licked the dragon’s lips again with a quick kiss. The dragon loved the adoration, the attention he received. He had been starved of touch, and the snake knew how to press all of his buttons without reserve.

“Maybe you should consider collecting, then.” The dragon smirked. The tighter his toes were pulled, the more aroused he was. His mind was filled with thoughts of being tormented by the snake, and his body reacted accordingly. Fortunately for him, the snake granted his wishes. The tails returned with slick slithers across his taut soles and teased the dragon’s milky arches. The serpent’s scales brushed and scraped against the tender skin, and it elicited a sort of whimper-giggle-moan from the dragon’s throat.

“Such a good tickle boy..” The snake cooed. “Kept your soles all soft and sensitive for me. Just for me. Isn’t that right?”

“Yessir.” The dragon smiled. He felt the tingles travel from the tip of his toes through his arches, then up his legs and his spine. There was a brief pause. He scrunched his toes against the serpent’s bondage, and whined. “Don’t stop. More. More, please.”

The serpent obliged. Another stroke of his tail against the dragon’s chin, another stroke down his soles. The many duplicates under his command were like trained, skilled hands against the dragon’s feet. No, better than hands. They were far more prehensile than fingers ever could be. They slipped between the dragon’s bound toes and scratched the entire length of their body against the sensitive skin between those digits; the very same scales that endlessly slithered all over the dragon’s taut soles so that at any given moment, the dragon was treated to a flurry of ticklish sensations. The prickle of a horned viper. The raised scales of the spiny bush. The cool, broad side of the hognose snake. The scritch-scratch of the spider-tailed viper. Each of these snakes offered the dragon a unique sensation against his receptive skin, each one brought a different sort of thrill as their texture made contact and lingered against the dragon’s soles.

There were, of course, the naughtier snakes that slithered between the dragon’s insteps. Thick, warm, and girthy. It stimulated the dragon’s brain in ways he never imagined possible; to be held so helplessly while his soles were fucked and used; for another creature to so easily breach between his soles for their own pleasure. The more they thrusted, the more they twisted and turned between his insteps, the more the dragon was lost to his own desires of being completely helpless and vulnerable. 

It was the contradiction that made him so aroused. Him, the dragon of the Zodiacs; the most powerful of the twelve. The only one that was mystical and revered in all of heaven and earth. He alone controlled the rain and wind, the raging seas and the rapid rivers. He, who had domination over continents; his brood that was written and sang and worshiped for eons. For him to become so powerless as to have his soles freely used and fucked by unintelligent creatures was unspeakably taboo; and yet it excited him beyond anything else that heaven and earth could offer.

He dwelled in sweet ticklish ecstasy. In his sweet helplessness. To be objectified and toyed with. The dragon moaned so deeply that the lust came from within his essence, his eternal soul.

He felt a nibble. A playful one. The snakes could not harm him – not physically, anyway. He wished for the nibble to be harder; and then as if his mind was read, the serpent granted his wish once more. Sharp fangs dug into his soles, just enough to cause a thrilling sensation, and not enough to break skin. He felt jaws clamp and close against the side of his feet; felt tongues lick between his toes as the hardened scales continued to gush between those bound, pulled digits. He cried out with intense pleasure.

“More..!”

It was the first word that came out of either of their mouths. The singular word broke the silence between the two; and he demanded more. More sweet torment. To make him feel smaller, more helpless. He loved it. It was the only thing he was capable of now. Nothing else mattered.

The rest of his body was nowhere as sensitive as his soles, and the serpent knew it. All of the snake’s attention was paid to the feet, the toes, the arches. Those meaty heels were nibbled and chewed on. The milky arches were exploited by hard and horned scales. The toes were licked by the forked, hissing tongues. The dragon loved each and every prickle he felt, but mostly he loved the idea that he had been reduced to nothing but a pair of feet for the snake's ticklish pleasure.

“Not more. Less.” The snake corrected. “You – become less and less. Not a dragon. Not a Zodiac – but my personal tickle toy, my tickle boy. Become less. Become nothing.”

“Yes.”

The snake’s voice was calm and collected; and as it traveled through the dragon’s mind it lured the dragon into a sense of nothingness. The snake was, among his hermetic arts, skilled at hypnotism, but he didn’t even need to use a tenth of what he was capable of. All he needed was to speak the words that the dragon wanted to hear.

“Such a good boy.” He whispered into the dragon’s ear. He gave the dragon a peck on the cheek. “Such a good boy. Adored. Loved. Helpless. Such a good tickle toy.”

“Yesss..!” The dragon moaned. He was a good boy. He had worked so hard. It was now time for rest – for pleasure and play. He had been freed of his celestial duties. “Make me your tickle boy.”

“Not even a tickle boy.” The snake corrected again. 

“Your.. tickle toy.“ The dragon gasped when he felt the snake’s tails burrow themselves between all of his toes. “Ah.. ahh!! Yes..! Tickle my toes! I am your tickle toy.”

“Doesn’t it feel good to give in? To surrender?”

“It does.” The dragon closed his eyes. All he saw in his mind’s eyes were his toes that were bound, his soles that were taken advantage of. He was the snake’s tickle toy, truly. There was no room for his ego. He sank further, deeper. He surrendered his pride. It was such a useless thing; it got in the way of the only thing that mattered. Throw it away. Throw it away. Throw it away. Gone, gone, gone. He did not need it. It was a hindrance.

“Such a good boy.” The snake repeated. “Such a good boy. Let everything go. Relax and release. All you need to be is tickled.”

“Tickled.” The dragon cooed. He felt the tail against his soles again. His lips curled upwards and formed a smile. “Tickled toy.”

Like ice in summer heat, the dragon’s brain melted into a puddle of bliss. He was content. Happy. In his right place. He deserved to be trapped as the snake’s tickle boy. His soles deserved to be lifted to the snake’s face and kept as pets for the snake’s amusement.

He flexed his toes and felt the bonds that kept them captive. Such helpless toes deserved to be tickled. Such a ticklish dragon with such a deserved fate. He felt his groin stir, hot and needy. The snake felt it, too; but it was not time yet. The shaft was coiled, and then trapped in stone the same way the rest of the dragon was. Locked away, only toyed with by the snake’s whim. The dragon whimpered at the prospect; the fact that he had just lost the ability to even be pleasured made him more aroused.

Pointlessly aroused. He would torment himself with the craving of tickles and orgasm, but he would only receive one and not the other. His pleasure on the edge would be endless, should the snake so choose. He felt the attention paid to his soles by the duplicate serpents once more, and then decided that his own pleasure was no longer a priority. No, no, no. He was the snake’s toy now. His soles are the snake’s playthings – and what was important was the snake’s satisfaction with how ticklish he was. With how much of a good tickle boy he was.

No thoughts in his head. No desires, no pleasure. Complete Zen – and completely helpless, bounded, tickled soles. He was not needed for another eleven years, if ever again – for anything other than his feet to suffer delicious torment. 

Dragon was the goodest tickle boy, after all.

=The end=

Patreon Exclusive: Jan 2025

Ticklish Karma for Unruly Passengers

By KinkSaber

Bang! Bang! Bang!

The rabbit rolled over in his bed and buried his large ears under the spare pillow. He had only laid down to bed for all of three seconds when the sudden noise surprised him. Cael was exhausted and grumpy. He had just gotten off a rough sixteen hour flight from New Hawk City to Zoobai. Even though he cashed in his points to upgrade his seat to premium economy, the airport gods were not kind to the little rabbit, and seated him in front of the most selfish asshole traveler Cael had ever met.

He was still mad as the recent memory resurfaced.

From takeoff, the big bad wolf behind him had propped his legs against the back of the rabbit’s seat. That wouldn’t have been so bad had the wolf stayed still; but that was of course not what he had in mind. The wolf grumbled obnoxiously and demanded a constant refill on his diet cola along with endless bags of snacks from what he called the ‘air waitresses’. Rude as hell.

Sixteen hours.

The wolf jabbed his finger against the touch screen constantly as he scrolled through the entertainment system, and each poke was strong enough to shake the entire chair. He connected the headphone plugs to his own portable boombox instead of a headset which annoyed everyone around him, and when asked to turn the volume down, claimed disability and hard of hearing (although he seemed to have heard everything just fine). Whenever he laughed, it crated on all the passengers; but mostly on Cael, as the wolf kicked the seat and pushed it with his feet with every bellow of laughter.

Sixteen fucking hours. The worst part was when the wolf finally stood up to use the lavatories, on his way back he smugly smirked and flashed the rabbit a condescending glare, as if he challenged the rabbit to do something about it. Nevermind sleep, Cael couldn’t even get a moment of peace to rest his eyes. The rabbit didn’t even half-finish his in-flight meal before the wolf kicked the chair so hard that the rabbit jerked and spilled his bottle of water all over the food. Cael was a flight-foodie, as he called himself, and particularly enjoyed the sensational menu that air travel offered. The ruined experience left a sour taste in his mouth, and it wasn’t just the balsamic vinegar. Sixteen. Fucking. Hours.

Cael gritted his teeth. At least it was over when the plane landed. He had plans to enjoy a quick local dinner before going to bed, but he was tired and couldn’t keep his eyes open; and so Cael went directly to the hotel where he booked a nice room at the end of the hallway, where he thought he would be the least disturbed. It was already late, and the rabbit didn’t think he could take just a quick nap with how little energy he had left. He had no choice but to order room service later, maybe sleep til morning when continental breakfast was served. Cael didn’t want to let the trip so far ruin the rest of his vacation. He closed his eyes again. Perhaps whatever made that noise was done now, and he could finally sleep.

Bang! Bang! Bang! Crash!

The rabbit groaned. He was pissed. He rolled over and pushed himself up. He was this fucking close to losing his goddamn mind. Another crash later, Cael’s anger quickly turned to concern. He heard something scatter in the halls. It didn’t sound normal.

The rabbit hopped out of bed and rushed to the door where he looked through the peeper. From where he stood he saw an overturned housekeeping cart and its spilled contents everywhere. Someone must have knocked it over. Cael groaned and mumbled to himself. 

“What a fucking idiot. Ugh.”

The rabbit couldn't leave it alone. He turned the deadbolt to his door and opened it. He had expected to see one of the hotel staff and he had expected some form of quick apology for the noise, but all he saw was a passed out guest on the floor. Even from several feet away, he smelled the alcohol on him.

Then something caught his eye. The shirt. The jeans. It was a wolf. No way. No fucking way.

Cael flipped the swing bar at the top of the door frame to keep his own door open as he took a step out to confirm his suspicion, and it didn’t take long for him to recognize the wolf as the same as the one from his plane ride. The wolf clearly had way too much to drink. The wolf’s face was flushed, and the lifted t-shirt exposed his slim and well toned abs. He would be cute if he weren’t such an asshole. How the hell did he get so drunk between the airport and the hotel? Cael himself had bolted off the plane and made it there in record time. He had neither the time nor the energy to take a shower, so that left maybe a grand total of ten minutes between a quick wipe of his face and the wardrobe change into something more comfortable. 

More impressively, how did he wrangle with the hotel stuff in that state of drunken stupor?

The rabbit looked around him and surveyed the damage. Knocked over housekeeping cart, the wolf’s luggages that fell over in the kerfuffle, and a paper envelope with the room number and key laid next to a spilled bottle of vodka that still had a duty free sticker on it. Cael rolled his eyes. Of course the wolf got the overpriced crap at the airport, and of course he got the room next to the rabbit’s.

He gave the wolf a shift poke with his foot to see if he would stir, but a snore told the rabbit otherwise. He could just leave the wolf there until someone found him, then he looked up and saw the security camera. Ugh. Now he’d be in trouble if he didn’t do something about it. The rabbit grabbed the card from the envelope and slotted it in the digital lock. The door clicked and opened. He turned his head back and looked. Ugh. Gross. He hated dealing with drunkards. He pocketed the card out of habit to free his hands. First, the luggage; then Cael dragged the wolf in. Not the bottle, though. He’s had enough to drink. He left the wolf mangled on the bed and grinned to himself. Serves you right, asshole. Cael thought. I hope you sleep wrong and wake up with a kink in your neck.

It was then that the wolf turned over and his wallet fell from his pocket. Out of professional curiosity, the rabbit flipped it open and looked for the driver license.

“Chad? Even your name is asshole-y!” Cael commented, and pulled out the wolf’s business card to give it a once-over. “Like the jock that peaked in high school and – holy shit. Event-promoter-slash-influencer? That’s the trifecta! It’s like the gods made you an asshole from birth!”

The rabbit dropped the wallet where he found it, and prepared himself to leave. Well, that was his good deed of the day. Maybe even the week. That was more than what the wolf deserved.

“Drink..! Ugh!” The wolf suddenly mumbled. “Where’s my.. DRINK!!”

The rabbit recoiled in disgust. He quickly left the room and let the door lock behind him. He had just gotten back inside his own room when he heard the loud shout of a curse word and another crash. Ignore it. Ignore it.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

This time, it was his door. Someone knocked on it. The rabbit groaned, turned around, and opened it. “Yes?”

“...You!” The wolf laughed when he recognized the rabbit. “The little chicken shit on the plane!”

Cael was about to slam the door in the wolf’s face and call hotel security, but the wolf was stronger. Chad pushed the door open and invited himself in.

“Hey! Get out!” Cael shouted. The wolf only laughed again. It was then that Cael noticed the wolf’s top was gone, and his jeans were unbuttoned and unzipped. “What the hell, dude! Get out of my room!”

“Oh yeah? Why don’t.. Why don’t you make me? Chicken shit!” The wolf stumbled over to the rabbit’s bed and plopped himself down. Before either of them said another word, the wolf snored. This time, he was really out for good.

Cael’s cheeks burned with anger. The last thing he wanted was to sleep in a bed that smelled like a sweaty drunkard or with said sweaty drunkard. Adrenaline filled his body. He was awake now. Tired and fully awake, like he had espresso shot directly into his veins. Furious, jittery, and ached all over. The worst combination. As each second passed by, Cael felt as though his vacation was being ruined more and more.

The wolf was cute, but that awful personality quickly turned that 10 into a negative 5.

Still, what if he had his mouth gagged like a good little wolf should? 

Cael shook the thought from his head. Really? At a time like this?

Maybe it’s because it’s a time like this. He didn’t invite the wolf over. This guy is an intruder. He came in without warning. He practically begged to be treated like a criminal. A criminal that should be punished.

The rabbit gulped. The wolf was too cute. Grew on him too fast. Except the fact that the wolf was in his bed, and wore shoes over the sheets like some uncultured swine. The rabbit grumbled, and roughly pulled off the sneakers, then the socks, and dropped them on the ground.

Cael was stunned. He didn’t expect such a rough-presenting wolf to have such delicate looking feet. The sole was smooth and the toes were perfectly pedicured. Well taken care of. There was a light scent of lotion from them, which most likely was applied prior to their flight. The rabbit looked them over several times, then sought out his phone where he took several photos for his collection. His compensation. Yeah. That’s right. The wolf had been such an asshole, Cael deserves to be compensated for the emotional distress. 

But a couple photos wouldn’t really do it justice, now, would it?

Cael looked at his luggages. He did have some gears he bought with him. He was going to enjoy a couple hours of self bondage during his stay, but didn’t think he’d have a chance to break them out so soon. He looked back at the wolf.

Compensation. The wolf wanted it. Begged for it. Practically threw himself into the rabbit’s den. The rabbit licked his lips. His crotch took over and won the metaphorical arm-wrestle with his brain. Fuck it. Let’s go.

Soon his stuff laid all over the bed and surrounded the sleeping wolf. Tapes. Chains. Cuffs. Oils. Latex gears. He couldn’t easily fit some of these on the wolf; not while he was dead weight. The rabbit put several items back, and settled on using the rolls of tape he had. They will do just fine – and it wouldn’t leave any questionable marks on the wolf’s body. He got to work.

First was the rabbit’s favorite part. The roll of tape wrapped around them as the rabbit moved upwards. Ankles bound together, then the shin, the knees, and the thighs. Three times over, until the entire roll was used up. He opened a second roll of tape. First he sealed the wolf’s lips across, wrapped it around the back of his head, and then circled it three more times as he lifted Chad’s head up each time to pass the tape under. Then, perpendicular to the wolf’s face, the rabbit wrapped it around the wolf’s protruded maw as if the canine had a muzzle made of firm latex tape. With just enough space around the wolf’s nostrils to breathe, the rabbit was pleased with his handiwork. Perfect as always, even if he was dead tired.

Next was the wolf’s eyes to take his sight, and the wolf’s hands that were balled into a fist inside a cocoon of latex tape. No opposable thumbs, no chance to escape. The rabbit smiled at his handiwork. He rolled the wolf on his belly, then pulled both of his arms together behind the wolf’s back. Hand to elbow he stacked them, and with the tape he wrapped the forearms together until it was three layers thick. Another roll of tape finished, but Cael wasn’t finished yet.

Latex tape was expensive, and Cael was down to his last two rolls. He wanted to keep them for himself, so he picked the shrink wrap from his repertoire of toys. It was so much more difficult to maneuver the sleeping wolf, who was heavy as a sandbag; but the rabbit managed. He always did. Even though he was so much smaller than the wolf, his muscles wouldn’t lose to something as simple and dumb as Chad. Nothing but dead weight. Think of it as another workout routine. Round and round the roll of shrink wrap hugged the canine, and as Cael finished the upper body, the legs were the last thing he needed to deal with. Cael couldn’t possibly let the wolf go without a matching pair of leggings to go with that beautiful plastic top.

The shrink wrap, he didn’t care to use wastefully. He laid it on thick and tight, and once the legs were done, it was time to make the magic happen. From the bathroom Cael retrieved the hairdryer and turned the heat up to the highest setting. He knew from experience that with so many layers of insulation, the wolf would be completely unharmed underneath – maybe a little warm at most. The hot air blew across the plastic and, as its namesake, shrunk in size. The wolf was mummified tighter and tighter by the second, all the while completely oblivious to the hell that he would soon wake up in. The Cael couldn’t help but give himself a good rub to his crotch as he admired his own handiwork – the helpless and completely bound wolf, which now other than his head and feet, was a beautiful work of plastic-wrapped art. As the shrink wrap bonded through its layers, Cael couldn’t help but run his fingers across the hardened cocoon.

“So, you fucking degenerate – you’re good for something after all.” The rabbit whispered to himself. He has scarcely ever seen anything as erotic as the bound wolf now. The only thing that was still exposed to the air were the wolf’s toes and soles, but soon they, too, were hidden under the comforter and the blanket. Cael crawled over the snuggly tight wolf, which was quite a nice bed-warmer, and laid his head on the wolf’s chest. So warm. So comfy. He was going to rest his eyes for just a minute, and then he could continue.

The next minute, of course, came when the rabbit awoke to angry muffled moans. For a second Cael was shocked to feel his ‘bed’ squirm, but the activities from last night soon returned to his memory, and the rabbit’s eyes snapped open. Cael threw the blanket off him and turned to see the angry wolf with angry screams, who tried his hardest to fight against his bondage. When the wolf realized something moved besides him, he renewed his defiant attitude and squirmed even more.

That turned Cael on. To see the predator so helplessly bound made his tummy and crotch feel all funny, and that was in addition to his normal morning wood.

“..Fuck!” The rabbit exclaimed with shaky breath. Part of him had thought it was a dream; and now that he’s had the rest he so desperately needed, he knew he was in so fucking much trouble. He could, of course, let the wolf out – but Chad would most likely rip him limb from limb. Limb. Limb. Cael had an intense feeling, as if he had forgotten something important. His gaze traced the wolf from his pretty bound head down his plastic-tombed body, all the way to the end.

Then he saw the wolf’s bound feet, where the toes were still free to wiggle and curl. The rabbit’s brain just about immediately shut off as the blood rerouted elsewhere.

Cael was the very picture of ‘breeding like rabbits’. As soon as it entered his mind it was almost impossible to get out without going through. Those wiggly, tasty looking, oh-so-helpless toes. Those digits that couldn’t defend themselves if the wolf’s life depended on it. Cael’s eyes were so fixed on them, and so the rabbit crawled towards the end of the bed where those warm soles laid. Closer, closer, closer. He crawled on all fours until his face was mere inches from them. He took a whiff and moaned as he exhaled.

It came as a surprise that the wolf’s feet didn’t smell bad at all. They were lightly scented, which was pleasant to the rabbit’s sensitive nose. Cael nuzzled the top of the wolf’s feet against his cheeks. They were so warm from under the blanket. So soft against his cheeks. Cael couldn’t help but wonder if they were ticklish, too. Why, that would just be perfect, wouldn’t it?

The rabbit extended a finger and scratched the top of the wolf’s foot, and traced his finger along the veins and bones. He felt the foot try to pull away. The wolf’s angry muffled screams turned to a quick whimper.

“Oh.. you are ticklish, aren’t you?”

“Mmm-mmm!! Mmm-mmm!!” The wolf vehemently denied, but the way those toes curled protectively inwards told the rabbit everything he needed to know. 

“That’s so funny. For such an asshole wolf to have such ticklish feet.” Cael commented. “Not the big tough guy you wanted people to think you are, huh? Let’s see if I can crack your eggshell, pup!”

With that, the rabbit grabbed both of the wolf’s wiggly feet, his thumbs pressed against the top of the foot in a firm grip as the rest of his fingers scratched the center of the wolf’s soles. The poor helpless wolf immediately bursted out into fits of laughter, choked by the latex tape that kept his mouth muzzled, like a caged animal. Cael’s short, stubby claws raked across the arches, and the rabbit felt just how soft the wolf’s soles were firsthand. If the rabbit had to guess, he’d confidently say these were possibly the top ten softest, most tender feet he has ever had the pleasure of touching. There was a feeling of jealousy in the rabbit’s chest. Without direct comparison, somehow Cael just knew factually that Chad’s soles were softer even than his amazingly plush bunny soles. If his furs could change color, that snow white rabbit would instantly turn a most wicked, envious green.

“Damn, how dare your feet feel so good..!” Cael grumbled. “You don’t deserve soft feet – ugh! I’m going to tickle the hell out of them!”

“MMMHMM MHMMMHMM HMMHMMMHMMMMHHMM HMMMM!!!” Tears quickly wet the wolf’s eyes. No amount of struggling helped his perilous situation. He can’t believe just how open and exposed his soles felt, especially with the rest of him in complete bondage. It was as though his feet were extra sensitive just for the occasion. The wolf wasn’t mad, though – confused, more like; not just at how he had gotten himself into this, but also a grand surprise of how good it felt – how good it felt to be bound up and helpless, how good it felt to be put in his place. Dangerous situation he might have been in, but he also had never felt so safe in the snug confines of his plastic cocoon. It didn’t help that the rabbit was the one and the very same cute-ass loser on the flight. He had tried for sixteen hours to piss the rabbit off, just to get some reaction from his poorly-sought victim. Now that he had the rabbit’s full and undivided attention, the wolf wasn’t entirely sure whether he regretted it, or if he should just cave in and enjoy the rest of it.

His mind began to become numb as the fingers raked and scratched his soles. The rabbit’s dull claws were more potent than the wolf’s predator mind could comprehend. He don’t know how simple scritches could send him into a ticklish frenzy, but fact remains that he was under the rabbit’s thumbs – figuratively and literally – and he really fucking loved it. He had always thought of himself as an alpha bro, and that the other beta idiots were too chicken shit to do anything back to him. It had gotten stale in some way, but this was more than what he asked for – better than what he asked for. He wanted conflict, and now he was repaid in endless tickling on the soles of his feet, which pounded his head again and again.

“So, which foot was it that kicked my fucking seat on the plane, hmm?” The rabbit asked. “I think we should punish BOTH to be safe, don’t you?”

Gods, yes. Chad thought. Punish me more.

“Squirm like a worm, you asshole!” Cale mocked. Between the laughter, the wolf let slip a moan. He felt his crotch grow warmer. Tingly. He rolled his eyes back behind sealed eyelids. Another moan. The rabbit heard it that second time. “Oh, you’re enjoying this, huh? Who’d have thought the big bad wolf is into this kinky shit?”

“Mmmhm..!? Mmmmm..”

The wolf felt something warm and wet glide across the tip of his toes. His legs went weak, like jelly. Similarly, fireworks shot off in his head. Chad spread his toes open and made room for the rabbit’s tongue.

“Damn, they’re tasty. Gods, they’re wasted on you.” The intense feeling of jealousy returned to the rabbit’s chest. He gave them another lick, and grabbed the brush that laid only an arm’s length from him. “Well, whatever! You ruined my 16 hour flight, so I’m going to pay you back every single minute of it. Complain all you want, but I’m not letting you go!”

The bristle on the brush scratched the bottom of those creamy smooth wolf soles until both of them were bright pink and glistened with moisture. Chad’s toes stayed clenched, but no matter what there was no escape from the rabbit’s wrath. An hour passed, and delirium was setting in in the wolf’s mind. For him, it had gone from torture to pure bliss in record time; and for the rabbit it had only caused another round of uncontrolable arousal. Rake, rake, scratch. The wolf’s toes curled. Whenever the brush left the surface of those soles for seconds, the wolf’s digits would spread and wiggle again. Cael couldn’t help but lay kisses and smooches across each of the toe pads; his tongue wormed between the digits as the brush quickly returned to the arches.

If Cael only turned around, he would have seen the huge patch of darkened stain where the wolf’s crotch was, under all those layers of transparent wrap.

Perhaps he would have mercy and free the wolf. Perhaps not. After all, there was fifteen more hours to go – and he was intent on making sure the wolf knew exactly how displeased he was.

=The end?=

Patreon Exclusive: Dec

Have Yourselves A Ticklish Little Solstice

By KinkSaber

Scales white as snow, claws black as coal, and pupils the shade of poisoned green apples. Shu was the very definition of beauty, blessed with the rare genes that did not grace the rest of his ancient and downstricken lineage. Had it been five hundred years ago, he would have been a prize among the nobility of the feudal lands; and yet in the age of modern college, he was little more than one eye candy in a world where a little device in the palm of your hand gave you access to hundreds of thousands of eye candies, each one more beautiful than the previous. 

It was good that he was not a greedy, vain, or cocky dragon.

Shu was humble, quiet, and discerning; and he often thought before he reacted. He was a planner, and he prided himself on being a great gift giver, which is why for the winter solstice, he had plans to fulfill his boyfriend’s deepest wishes and kinkier desires.

Feet wasn’t something Shu particularly cared about, and although his boyfriend Fen told him how pretty his toes were many times, Shu never really understood what that meant. That’s okay, though – understanding and finding feet attractive was not part of the package. He was happy to indulge Fen’s foot fetish in whichever way he wanted – and Shu knew that a simple massage here and some kisses there was not what Fen craved. There was a twinkle in Fen’s eyes that told the white dragon so, and Shu recognized self-restraint when he saw it. He was, if nothing else, a master of self-restraint.

Shu wanted Fen to be himself, to feel safe and open when they were together. That was when he devised a plan – something to spice up their bedroom nights, where Fen could be unabashedly unashamed and indulged in what he craved without judgement. Shu was never going to judge, and he needed to prove it to Fen. After all, Fen came from a family who was well known in the community for being judgemental, and it goes without saying that Fen carried baggage that Shu believed he did not deserve.

Ropes. Massage oils. Pink fluffy cuffs. Vibrators. Toys. Shu bought a bunch of it and hid it in his apartment weeks in advance, so that Fen would be none the wiser. The white dragon wasn’t sure how spicy Fen cared for, and so with many contingency plans in mind Shu stocked up on everything he saw with a simple search. Chocolate syrup. Whipped cream. A crop, a feather, and some belts. He was hell bent on making sure Fen had the best winter solstice ever; and as it approached, Shu wrapped each of these items in gift wraps that hid his intentions and placed them under the lit, decorated tree. Fen had already accepted his invitation to celebrate the winter solstice, now all Shu needed to do was make sure the rest of dinner went well.

“What are you looking at?” Shu shuffled as he pulled one tray of roasted veggies out of the oven only to replace it with another.

“Your eyes.” Fen replied nonchalantly. He was not shy in any regards that wasn’t related to his fetish. “I can’t get over how pretty they are.”

“So you’ve said.” Shu blushed. He loved it when Fen complimented him. “Many times.”

“And I mean it every time. Like emeralds. Goes great with mine, red like rubies. We were meant to be a pair. I didn’t believe in destiny until I met you.” Fen continued with a lovely sigh. “And also, dat ass. That thicc, juicy ass.”

“I think you’re mistaking the turkey for my ass.” Shu laughed. “Besides, I know it’s not my ass you’re after.”

“And what’s that supposed to mean?” Fen stuck out his tongue.

Shu only needed to kick off his slipper and lifted his leg behind him to reveal his sole. The single glimpse was more than required to shut down Fen’s brain and make him stutter.

“S-shut up!” 

Shu laughed and closed the oven. An hour to dinner, and then desserts. The best desserts.

—

“Wow.. Shu. This is a lot to.. To take in.” Fen’s jaw hung open when he saw the boxes all wrapped in different gift papers, stacked on top of each other under the solstice tree. “Man, you went all out! I didn’t even.. Oh gosh. I didn’t get you anything near as awesome as this!”

“Twelve days of Solstice, you know?” Shu shrugged. “I wanted you to have a proper one, since, you know, you told me you never got one. You mentioned that a while back. I remembered.”

“Man, next year please tell me ahead of time if you’re gonna do something like this.” Fen felt a tinge of guilt. “I really should have gotten you twelve presents too!”

“No, you shouldn’t.” Shu kissed the other dragon on his cheek. “I’m allowed to spoil my boyfriend once a year.”

“You already spoiled me with dinner.” Fen nuzzled into Shu’s neck. “That was amazing.”

“Ha, and to think.” Shu laughed as he recalled one of the first times he and Fen met. “You thought I was one of those pretty boys who couldn’t do anything. Guess what, I can cook, I can clean, and I’m the best gift-giver I know.”

“Yeah yeah yeah!” Fen giggled. “You’re the absolute best. I already knew that.”

“Well? Go and start unpacking!” Shu pushed the other dragon towards the gifts, then continued in a sultry voice. “And then maybe we can give them a little test drive.”

“Test drive? I swear, if there are keys in one of these boxes I will straight up die on the spot.” Fen teased. A car was on the to-do list. A nice one. Eventually. Not right now, though. “Okay, seriously, there’s no car, right?”

“Not that kind of test drive!” Shu grinned.

The first box was perfectly innocent. Massage oils. Sexy, but not out of the ordinary. The next was a hair brush.

“Uh. We have scales.” Fen laughed. He thought it was a joke.

“Keep going.” Shu insisted. “Context clues. Figure it out.”

“I swear.” Fen repeated. “If you got us a puppy..!”

“I’d have gotten a cat.” Shu stuck out his tongue.

The next present opened revealed a bottle of high end chocolate sauce. It was weighty in Fen’s hand. The one after paint brushes of good quality. Neither of them painted.

“I’m beginning to suspect your title of ‘best gift-giver’ was purchased online.” Fen looked at the items in one hand, then the other. “Shu. Bachelor of Gift-Giving. From the University of Lemme-Google-That-For-You.”

“Shut up! Just keep going!” Shu rolled his eyes dramatically. How unlucky must he or Fen be that his boyfriend hasn’t opened a more telling present yet?

A leather belt. Close, but no cigar. Fen failed to notice the special buckle on it that was shaped like a ball gag against a tongue in the middle. A pack of artisanal feathers. A comb made of bones.

“I am so beyond confused right now.” Fen admitted as he reached for the next package. It was smaller and softer. Felt like it was squishy between his fingers. He turned to look at Shu as his claws tore open the paper that hid its contents. “None of these have anything to do with.. Well, anything!”

“Oh, yeah?” Shu sweated. He didn’t exactly set the order in which the boxes were opened, but maybe he should have made Fen open the one with the ropes first. Which one was that again? Shu didn’t even remember anymore. “Just, um, keep going.”

“Okay, but if this next one doesn’t give me a better clue, you’re going to owe me a big ol’ kiss.” Fen smirked, then looked at the gift in his hands. He paused for a second. “...Jumping ropes?”

“You innocent little boy dragon, you.” Shu couldn’t help but laugh at the absurdity. The white dragon fell backwards to the couch and kicked off his slippers, then rested them on the coffee table. “Get it now?”

Fen looked at the item in his hands, then towards the pile of the seemingly unrelated items that he had gotten so far. He looked back at Shu, whose soles now directly faced him. They were so pretty. So soft looking. It distracted Fen. His self-proclaimed ruby-red eyes glued themselves to those creamy soles. He couldn’t get enough of how they wrinkled and arched and tensed and how those toes flexed and curled. He held onto those ropes with a tight grip. Such a tease, his boyfriend was. If only there was a way to..

Ah.

Fen’s face flushed bright red immediately as he finally understood what all the gifts meant. It was a clear indication for Shu when Fen’s cheeks turned so rosy. The dragon’s ruby-red eyes darted away in embarrassment. Shu chuckled.

“So?” Shu teased. “Test drive, or what?”

“Gods, Shu.” Fen squirmed in his pants. He felt his groin grow warm as the thought of those feet under his hands raced in his mind. He always wanted to try tickling, but never figured out a way to ask. It was so out of the ordinary for the two extra-ordinary-on-the-side dragons. “I’m not.. I’m not ready – you’re moving so fast right now.”

Shu squeezed his toes. He knew when he had Fen hooked. Those pupils followed the little bend and curl. He crossed his ankles and flexed his sole again. He had Fen’s full attention.

“All I want to hear from you is a yes or no.” Shu sprayed his toes and wiggled them. 

“Fuck..! Yes!” Fen gulped. “I’m dizzy. Oh gods. I’m so excited. Shu! You need to warn me about these things!”

“You’ve had your eyes on my feet the entire day.” Shu hopped off the couch, grabbed everything – including the unopened presents and Fen by the hand, and led him towards the bedroom where they could make themselves more comfortable. “Besides, I should be the one asking you to take it slow. I’m deathly ticklish.”

“Are you sure you want this, then?” Fen was practically thrown onto the bed as his presents rained on him.

“With absolute certainty.” Shu threw off his clothes and pants, and shoved his feet in Fen’s laps as he made himself more comfortable. “Go on. It’s your solstice present. I’m all yours for the night – just take it nice and slow.”

Fen’s grin couldn’t be wider as he took the ropes and looped it around Shu’s ankles. “Is it too tight?” He asked with concern.

“Nahh.” Shu shook his head. “I can still move ‘em. You can go tighter. Make me really squirm under your fingers.”

“I’m hard already.” Fen pulled the rope tighter as his boyfriend requested. He leaned forward and gave those toes a kiss and a lick before he continued to loop the rope up Shu’s leg. The white dragon’s toes tasted as milky as vanilla pudding, and Fen could never get enough of it. “Mmmm..!”

“Just imagine me gasping for air and begging already.” Shu teased again. 

“..Fuck!” Fen felt his cock throb. “You’re hot enough as you are. You’re going to short circuit my brain.”

He couldn’t resist. Fen ran his fingers down the white dragon’s sole. It was just the tip of his fleshy finger, and he felt Shu’s feet tremble and pull back.

“Oh, I’m in so much trouble, aren’t I?”

“I can’t explain just how erotic this is.” Fen exhaled with a whimper. His fingers dragged themselves up the white dragon’s arches again. “So hot..!”

“Eheh heh! Hee hee hee hee hee! Wehh heh heh heh! That tickles!”

“That’s the idea.” Fen gave those toes another kiss before he spidered all of his fingers up and down those arches with light, tingly touches. The brief contact they made, along with the randomized positions, drove Shu into a burst of laughter. 

“Hee hEE heE HeE hee!!” Shu’s voice wavered up and down as his laughter came forth. Even when he tried to pull his legs away, Fen pulled them back into his labs.

“Tickle tickle, my pretty dragon boy!” Fen cooed teasingly. “Who’s got ticklish toes? Awh, my pretty dragon boy does!”

“Wahah hah hah hah!! Ahah hah hah hah!! It tickles! It tickles so much! Ahahah hah hah!”

Shu couldn’t believe how out of control he was. He didn’t expect the tickling to be so bad, and Fen hadn’t even used any of the tools yet. Just as he thought that, he saw a flash of color – brown, black, and white – the feather of a great eagle that he had gotten; the biggest and stiffest one of the pack. The vanes weaved between his toes before he had a chance to register what was happening, and the white dragon was sent right back into giggle-land.

“Weee!! Weee hee hee hee hee! Oh my gaaa-haaa-haa-haa-awd! Hah hah hah hah hah!! Hold up! Hold up! Not so faaa-hah-hah-hah-asst!”

“Ha! Big tough pretty dragon boy wanted to tease me with his feet!” Fen let out expectedly, excitedly. “Who’s laughing now? You big ticklish bully!” 

“Wahah hah hah hah!! But you’re so cute-hew when you’re shaa-haa-haa-haa-ssh-sshhy!”

“And you’re cute when you’re all jumbly and giggly!” Fen fired back as his fingers went for another round while he directed the feather to saw between Shu’s toes. He loved the way those toes curled and flexed for him, danced for him. He leaned and kissed them again, right on the big toes. Then, as soon as his lips parted from the digit, the feather returned for a visit. “Tasty, ticklish toes! Gods, Shu, you’re the perfect boyfriend!”

“I knoww-hoh-hoh hoh hoh ho hohhhh!” Shu gasped for air, and then when Fen was distracted, he pulled his legs back and planted his soles onto the sheets where he rubbed the tickly feelings away. “Ugghhh!! You’re so mean!” He complained. He still felt the feather between his toes. “I said go slow!”

“You also said they’re all mine.” Fen replied and picked up the bottle of massage oil. He poured a good healthy amount into his cupped hand, and then rubbed them together. “I’ll go slow. For realsies this time. Now, put those dragon boy soles back here. I’ve seen this online and I’ve always wanted to try doing it.”

“Gods..! What have I gotten myself into!” Shu grimaced, but followed Fen’s request anyway. Those warm boyfriend hands caressed his feet as they were prepped for doom and tickle torture. It made him feel so helpless. It made him feel so good that his boyfriend loved it. There was a stain on Fen’s groin, between his legs. A dark stain. Fen’s enjoyment was not a question of if, but exactly how much.

“Shiny, lube-y dragon soles.. Mmmmh!” Fen moaned.

“Cock or tickles?” Shu posed, as if Fen had to choose. “Which one do you want?”

“Both.” Fen replied, as if he had to choose. Fen unbuckled his pants and pulled them down to reveal his cock that was rock hard. One of Shu’s feet pressed itself against it, the warmth of that dragon sole against the length of the dragon’s cock; while the other lifted to Fen’s face. Those toes wiggled again. Sexily. Shu knew what he was doing. “..Fuck!”

“I felt that twitch.” Shu taunted. “Does my widdle foot-horny dragon boy like his present?”

“Fuck yes.” Fen moaned as his cock was rubbed. He picked up the hair brush in one hand and gripped onto Shu’s ankle with the other. It was time to try it for himself. “Ready?”

“As I’ll be – but if I kick you in the nuts, know that you deserved it.” Shu swallowed.

The brush hovered above that white, creamy, shiny sole, and then they made contact.

“Wah hah hah hah hah!!”

“I barely did anything!”

“It tickles! It tickles!” Shu’s entire body shook with laughter as his foot pumped and pedaled onto Fen’s hot cock. “Aaaha hah hah hah!! It tickles so much! Fen! Fen! Feee-heeeh-heeh heeeh heeeh heeeh-en!”

“I haven’t even – oh, whatever!” Fen laughed and began to scrub the foot with the brush. Shu exploded with violent laughter as his other foot jacked it up to eleven as he pushed and pressed and rubbed that leaky dragon cock. The bristles flew across Shu’s ticklish, squirming soles as Fen raked it back and forth, up and down, and from side to side. Shu’s toes went crazy as they flailed and waved, but Fen showed no signs of slowing.

“AAAHA HAH HAH HAHA HAHA HAH HAH HAH HAHHHH!! FAAA-AAAAHA-ACHK! FEN! FAAA-ENNN-HEH HEH HEH HEH-EN! MY GAA-HAH-AWD! AAAH!! AAAH!! AAAH HAH HAH HAH HAH HAH HAH MY FEET! MY FEET! MY FEE-HEE HEE HEE HEET! GAW-D-UH-DAMN FEN! WAHAH HAH HAH HAH!! WAHA HAH HAH HAH!! WAHHHH HAHH HAHH HAHH HAHHH!! I’M GOING TO D’AA-HAH HAH HAH HAH HAH HAH!! FEEENNNNNNNN!!”

The screaming laughter gave Fen no deterrence. In fact, it only drove him hornier and hornier as the white dragon’s other foot pumped his cock like a well-calculated milking machine.

“Who’s my ticklish lil dragon boy? WHO’S MY TICKLISH LIL DRAGON BOY? MY TICKLISH LIL DRAGON BOY! MY CUTE LIL OH-SO-TICKLISH DRAGON TICKLE BOY!” Fen just about lost his mind as he teased his boyfriend, who actually was on the brink of losing his damn ticklish mind. There was a hot squirt from his cock that landed on his stomach, then another that leaked down to his thighs, then a third that perfectly creamed between Shu’s toes. “Oh..! Fuck! Fuck!” Fen screamed as his unexpected orgasm knocked the wind out of him. He saw colors and it felt like the room spun around him. The brush fell from his hand as he shoved Shu’s pink, hot foot into his mouth, where the toes wiggled and curled into his tongue. “Uggghhh…!”

“You jerk! Jeerr-hurr-hurr-hurrk!” Shu fell back into the bed. As revenge, he squeezed Fen’s sensitive cockhead between his toes, where Fen then shrieked with surprise and then moaned into the white dragon’s foot.

“Mmmhp..!! Ugh..!” Fen drooled from the corner of his mouth.

“What part of that was going easy?!” Shu demanded, half mad but half amazed how much his boyfriend managed to dominate him. They were both pretty introverted and shy on the regular, so it certainly came as a surprise there was something so dominant inside Fen the entire time.

“Awauuhh gukh.” Fen started, but then realized his words were as jumbled as Shu’s until he pulled the white dragon’s toes from his mouth. Momentarily, at least, just so he could talk. Then they’d go right back in. “You think it’s easy to hold back when your soles are so fucking cute? When your toes make me want to blow my load just looking at them?”

“You fucking jerk.” Shu laughed, then squeezed the dragon’s cockhead again. “Yeah? Remember where my toes are right now. I’ll milk you bone dry. Make you my foot bitch, you horny foot dragon.”

“And I’ll make you my tickle bitch.” Fen gave the tender soles a kiss, to which Shu whimpered with just the touch of his boyfriend’s lips. “Oh-so-sensitive! Wow, it’s amazing that you haven’t laughed yourself to death already, Shu.”

“I’ll make you cum yourself to death first.” Shu challenged as he switched feet. The cummy-toe one that was on Fen’s cock was now in his face, and his licked sole now pressed right up against the entire shaft of Fen’s cock, which already came back to life. “The safeword is ‘Solstice’. If you cum before I say it, you lose, and I win; and when I win, you’re going to give my feet the proper worship and massage they deserve, foot bitch!”

“Yeah? And when I win, these ticklish dragon feet are going to be my tickle toys for the rest of the solstice holidays!” Fen’s hand went right for the bone comb. “Just imagine these teeth between your toes. And my teeth. And my tongue. Because I’m to lick all the fuckin’ flavor from your tasty toes when I win and you’re just going to be my giggly dragon boy.”

“Bring it.” Shu steeled himself. He saw the comb came closer and closer, then slid between those toes.

“Three.. Two.. one – kiss your toes goodbye, Shu!”

=The end=

Update: Roadmap for 2025

Hi everyone!

2024 is coming to a close and I'm very thankful for everything that happened this year. I appreciate all of your support so incredibly much.

If you are in my discord server, you may have already seen the announcement that I've made regarding changes coming in the new year. Starting in January, I'll be tentatively committing to posting two stories per month.

There will be no changes to the tier prices, so simply put, everybody is getting an extra Patreon Exclusive story.

As for the November Exclusive story: Patreon has not yet completed the review on their end, and the story is available in the #supporter channel on my discord. If you haven't linked your discord to Patreon, the discord bot may not be correctly giving you the right roles to access it. If you don't use discord, please send me a DM or leave a comment on this post, so I can reach out to you.

Update: November Exclusive under Patreon Review

Apparently I made an oopsies regarding the story and it treaded into the no-nos of 18+ work. That's my bad. I suppose it's the part where the character became too aggressive in the beginning with his intentions.

Moving forward, the version posted on patreon will be purely feet/tickle fetish focused. If there is a spicier version of the story, it will be available on Discord.

The edit has been made to exclude the offending portion and once Patreon pushes through the review, it will be available here. Until then, the story is available on my discord, which you can join here: https://discord.gg/WMSNb3x4

A very early preview of what's in the works:

As some of you may already know, I've got plans to start another anthology of short stories.

This time though it'll be mainly focused on the tickling aspect.

I'm in the stage of brainstorming on how to expand and flesh out each of the stories, and if you're interested you can see my notes here:

https://docs.google.com/document/d/1oeJdWhBLcMmN0cwBxZbXH2hydm39NfVubtudKKLIYzo/edit?usp=sharing

Patreon Feedback: Nov-Dec stories.

There's currently nothing solid yet, but usually I'd do a thanksgiving themed story in November and a holiday themed story in December to go with the seasonal vibes.

I want to know what content people most prefer, what content really dingles your dongle. If there's enough demand for it -- well, i've been thinking that maybe I would do a worship focused story and a separate tickling focused story on Patreon instead of trying to do both in one.

Let me know what you think.

Patreon Exclusive: Oct Part 3

The Dragon King’s Owned Soles

By KinkSaber

Lavaetein never thought he would accept the way he had been treated like Terrasque’s personal foot toy, much less be accustomed to it; but there he was, completely settled in and used to his feet lapped like candy for the young earth dragon. It irked him that one night Terrasque did not visit, which was the only thing that broke him out of his monotonous boredom. Everything in that throne room was still and motionless, and it was only Terrasque that saved him from his mind-melting melancholy.

The lone Lavaetein couldn’t believe he was looking forward to the young earth dragon, even if it meant he was to be humiliated. The fire dragon curled his toes and felt his upturn soles stretch on that heated pedestal. After weeks of ‘training’ he finally regained control of those digits, which he only managed to use to satisfy the earth dragon’s urges. They were still numb when he woke in the morning, and the several times he skipped his exercises Lavaetein found he lost function in them almost immediately, which sent Terrasque into a rage at the perceived disobedience. Lavaetein learned quickly that Terrasque kept in a good mood was far preferable to a soured mannered emperor. He himself used to be quick to anger and reacted explosively, but that was before his wings were clipped, so to speak, and his helplessness did not afford him the luxury to let his emotions run wild.

“Welcome back, Master.”

Lavaetein greeted the earth dragon as soon as he heard footsteps through the secret entrance. He recognized the stride and pace already. There were no other stimulants.

“Whatever. Shut up, fuckbag.”

The reply stung the fire dragon, but it was not entirely unexpected. He could tell Terrasque was in a foul mood already, and he did not want to make it worse for himself. The fire dragon clasped his lips closed. Do not speak until spoken to. That was something he always told his underlings, and now he was forced to take his own advice to save what’s left of his hide. It was humiliating, but the alternative was even less desirable.

Before the earth dragon even sat upon the throne, Lavaetein flexed and spread his toes the way the earth dragon liked. Each digit was completely separate from the others, with no impediment for the earth dragon to admire and gaze upon them. There was a neat trick that Lavaetein learned – if he then slowly relaxed his feet, he had the ability to freeze them in that pose. The alleviation of strain tremendously helped when the earth dragon demanded for those toes to be continually spread during his visits, which was a welcomed perk. He did not lie to his Master, merely omitted the pointless conversation of his abilities.

The earth dragon kicked off his own sandals and rested his soles upon the foot rest, which was now customized and angled slightly to allow Terrasque the most comfortable position. Not for, of course, the ease of the fire dragon. The foam beneath his head offered little isolation from the hard wood base, which slammed against the back of the fire dragon’s skull whenever the earth dragon decided to enact a small punishment. Its main purpose was to keep the fire dragon’s head from rolling to the side, and it served that purpose – and no others – well.

“Aah.. much better!” Terrasque grinded his ass against the cushion of the throne and settled in for the evening. The balls of his feet covered Lavaetein’s eyes, and his toes rested on the fire dragon’s forehead; his heels stamped across the fire dragon’s lips, which kept them shut, just the way he liked. There was something about it, the way that Lavaetein was physically ungagged, but obediently chose to keep silent – it made Terrasque feel so powerful as he lorded over the scum, the pathetic excuse of a creature that will never escape from under his feet.

The absolute pathetic excuse of a creature that was coerced to prostrate, degrade, and insult himself; to not just simply kiss ass but to desperately bootlick and play into his kinks for the earth dragon’s grace. That thought alone elevated the earth dragon’s mood, and caused his cock to stir and rise.

“Tell me what I want to hear, fuckbag.”

An open ended question. It aroused him to hear what Lavaetein came up with. That was the fire dragon’s other charge – to think of incredibly lewd, cheap thrills in exchange for the earth dragon to stay his cruelty. It wasn’t always so. Terrasque taunted his captive to start, but as the days passed he realized the fire dragon merely agreed with him – and that was an easy thing to do, to simply, mindlessly agree with Terrasque’s own thoughts and desires. He didn’t care for a yes-man. He’s got plenty of those on the general’s council.

“I’ve spread my toes for you, Mast–”

Terrasque slammed his heel down against Lavaetein’s fangs. It hurt the fire dragon more than it did the earth dragon.

“Boorrrring. You know that’s not it, fuckbag.”

“...Fuckkkk..!” The fire dragon groaned in resignation. He couldn’t just go through the motions, do the bare minimum. Admittedly he had slacked off, even though there wasn’t anything else to do. He didn’t bother to come up with something new for the young emperor. “You own my feet. You own my toes. My face is your foot rest! What else do you want?”

“I want to hear you shred your ego to pieces today, fuckbag. I want to hear you verbally destroy yourself. I know you’re not into feet, but surely you’ve learned enough to know what I like.” Terrasque reached his hand towards his cock and gave himself a good squeeze. “Go on. Arouse me. Talk dirty to me. Before you ruin the mood again.”

“Hng… As you wish, Master.” Lavaetein searched his brain for the right words. “They.. they’ve been roasting all day. Uncomfortably warm on the pedestal. Makes them sweaty.”

“It does, doesn’t it?” Terrasque turned his head to face the upturned soles. They shimmered with a thin layer of sweat on that creamy pale sole. “Tell me more.”

“I am.. Humiliated. I’m still in disbelief that – ugh.” Lavaetein bit his lips and held his tongue.

“Go on.” Terrasque jabbed the fire dragon’s face with the side of his big toe. “Now. No more delays.”

“I am in disbelief that I, the king of the fire dragons – am trapped here! To have my feet baked and roasted for a whelp like you!”

“Ahahaha!” The earth dragon eased up on the fire dragon’s face. “Continue! Let me hear where you’re going with this – but it better excite me!”

“To.. ugh! To keep my feet constantly sweating..! Marinated in their own juices – and then you’d come and lick them off.” Lavaetein let loose. “I have never felt as helpless or humiliated as when you slurp up my soles! To lick away every last drop of salty sweat. And then you force me to keep my toes spread as you suck each one off; you force me to listen to the sound of your tongue lashing against them. You kiss them and you suckle them. You.. ugh.. You force me to watch as you relieve your stress on my feet.”

“Oh, fuckbag. You’re too much.” Terrasque chuckled. His cock visibly twitched. “You know, that’s close. Very close. I don’t want to be the target of your accusatory ramblings, though. Why don’t I show my generosity and give you another chance – this time, I want you to phrase it as if you deserve it.”

“I.. deserve it?” Lavaetein complained. “You – you already do everything you want with my feet! There is nothing more I can give!”

“I want your submission, fuckbag. Tell me what I really want to hear – that you deserve all of this! I don’t want empty words, and oh, believe me – you don’t want to speak empty words. I want to hear the disgust in your voice when they’re forced through your teeth, fuck bag – so start speaking, now.”

“Awh, fuck!” The fire dragon whined. He spoke again, but both his voice and his words were broken in pieces. “They.. my feet.. Deserves.. To be owned.”

“Better. And everything else, too.” Terrasque curled and squeezed his toes. He felt those words hit the pleasure receptor of his brain. “Say it slow. Say it all, fuckbag – I don’t want you to skip anything.”

“My soles.. Ugh.. deserves.. To be roasted.” Lavaetein bit his tongue. The words tasted foul in his mouth. He would spit them out, but it was a nonphysical thing. He composed himself and continued. “To sweat for you, Master.. It.. gives them meaning. Gives them purpose.”

“Fuck, that’s the good stuff.” Terrasque shuddered. “More!”

“My, uh, fire dragon toes.” Lavaetein gulped. His mind came up blank. What had the young earth dragon said about his toes before? What did he call them? How did he like them? “No.. my apologies. Master’s fire dragon toes – because Master owns them now – Master’s fire dragon toes should be sucked without complaints.”

“Mmmph..!” Terrasque’s lips formed a smile. The moan from his throat was the only clue to Lavaetein that he was on the right track.

“Bound, perhaps, if Master desires. Each toe bound individually, forced to spread, forced to be on display, forced to show off to Master. Not just the ones attached to me, Master – perhaps it is all fire dragons who should submit their toes to you. I am..”

There was a pause. Lavaetein struggled. Terrasque felt the defiance and hesitation there. He waited for the pay off.

“..hon.. Honored. To be the first.”

Terrasque’s cock twitched at those words. The way it sounded as though Lavaetein slayed a part of himself to speak it. Yes. Yes. Yes. That was the thrill that Terrasque wanted.

“More. More about the feet, fuckbag.” The earth dragon felt as though his body melted into the chair. He and Lavaetein were skin and scale to skin and scale.

“They should be licked.” Lavaetein continued. “Ugh.. slow roasted first. Master loves roasted fire dragon feet, and so they deserve to be slow roasted. No. No. I should want.. Oh Gaia – I should want them to be roasted, too.”

Another pause.

“Fuck..! I want.. Fuck me – I want them to be roasted for Master. The feet that once belonged to the feared dragon king of fire; the feet that once commanded the flames of hell, now ironically roasted by a pitiful enchantment. I want them.. Roasted. To be forced to sweat. To be made flavorful for Master.”

“You don’t mean it.” Terrasque laughed and called out the fire dragon. “But I love your submission. More! Give me more!”

“I do want them roasted for Master!” Lavaetein repeated, and then elaborated further. “Roasted fire dragon soles for Master. Toes spread so each one is roasted evenly, so each one shines with sweat for Master. That is..”

“That is?” Terrasque questioned.

“That is.. Their.. Sole purpose. Their one calling. Their destiny.”

“What else?”

“That is.. Why they exist. They are.. Master’s owned fire dragon soles. Owned to be.. Roasted. Licked. Owned to be sucked.”

“Mmmm.. yes. The soles of the fire-dragon-king-turned-fuckbag.” Terrasque moaned. He stroked faster.

“The delicious, submissive soles of the fire-dragon-king-turned-fuckbag, Master.”

“Yes!”

“The soles of the fire-dragon-king-turned-fuckbag, who can’t even protect his own soles from the tongue of an earth dragon, Master.”

“Yes!”

“Who can’t even stop his soles from being turned into sex toys, Master. Those soles.. Are yours.”

“Gaia, yes!”

“I’m sorry, Master. Thank you.. Ugh.. thank you for teaching me my place, Master.”

“Yes!”

“I will submit my soles to you forever, Master.”

“You command and control my soles. You own my toes. They are yours.”

“They roast for you. Sweat for you. Spread for you. They live for you. Exist for only you.”

“Thank you.. Thank you for choosing these fire dragon soles! Truly. Thank you for making my life worth it. Thank you for teaching – teaching me – the true value of these owned feet.”

“They were destined to be yours. No - no. They have always been yours. They have always belonged to you. Even from birth. They have always been yours.”

“I am defiant – but my soles will never defy you. Never again. They are yours, now and forever, Master.”

“Yes! Speak.. Speak it again!” Terrasque stroked himself furiously. He was close. He needed total submission. He was so close. They both were. “Speak your vow to me!”

The vow.

It was Lavaetein’s salvation, or damnation. It was his one shot. Lavaetein knew that if he missed the chance, it may never come up again.

“Master. I.. I wholeheartedly relinquish any and all claims to these fire dragon soles.”

“YES!”

“I wholeheartedly surrender them to you.”

“YES!”

“Of my own accord, I wholeheartedly pledge them to you.”

“YES! Give it to me! GIVE THEM TO ME! SPEAK YOUR NAME AND GIVE THEM TO ME!”

“...”

“GIVE. THEM. TO. ME!”

“..My name.. My name is Lavaetein, and..” The fire dragon choked. It was the point of no return. Salvation or damnation. “..and I swear upon my name, and the name of Gaia the earth mother, and the name of Oranos the sky father, that they belong to you, in whole and in part, in name and in law, now and forever, unto eternity; and no power in the heavens or the hells can change that. Yours, forever.”

Terrasque’s milk spilled forth from his cock, and landed squarely on the footrest’s face. Lavaetein squeezed his eyes shut as more of the milky white seed splattered. Hot, heavy, and full of the earth dragon’s musk. He was marked, not only by a magical vow, but also physically as the scent of the earth dragon whispered heavily onto him.

“Heh. Heh heh! Heh heh heh! That’s.. That’s exactly what I needed, fuckbag.” Terrasque smiled. “You’re going to be so much fun to train now that you’ve pledged these fuckin’ fire dragon soles to me. Oh, yes. We’re going to have so much more fun!”

=To be continued=

Patreon Exclusive: Oct Part 2

Old Dragon, New Tricks

By KinkSaber

It was the second prince of the earth dragons who first entered the underground throne room. No one else dared to defy Boulderbreaker’s orders once they had been spoken but the rebellious princeling, and what he found did not surprise him. He was, after all, the one who orchestrated the end of the fire dragons.

Terrasque was still young and inexperienced, but at twenty years of age he was already more manipulative than most dragons were their entire life. It was him who found the ancient scripts that detailed the ingots of Gaia, and the specific rituals needed to empower it with the essences of the four dragon kings. He did, however, withhold the all-important piece of information, which Boulderbreaker discovered at the moment he casted the curse – whoever used it in abuse would pay for it with their own life. Now that his father the king and his brother the crown prince were out of the picture, the victory, along with the kingdom, was his to claim.

Of course, to the victor was also the right and privilege to rewrite history and all the spoils of the loser, and Terrasque needed to act before anyone else could grasp the narrative.

“Oh, father!” Terrasque cried with a voice that mimicked denial and concern, but the young earth dragon could not stop his lips from a smile. From the back, it was well hidden to the rest of his guards. “Father! Father! What have the vile Lavaetein done to you?!”

“Cursed.. Cursed whelp!” The fire dragon gasped. Before a third word could be spoken, Terrasque shoved a prepared rag into Lavaetein’s mouth to silence the only witness to the events of that throne room. From the corner of his eye, he saw the pair of upturned soles of red and gold scales, and what he assumed to be the fire dragon’s cock and balls laid on a newly decorated throne. It took Terrasque no time at all to put together exactly what happened. He was excited by the sight of the helpless Lavaetein, and he wanted revenge of his own.

“Your highness!” One of the elite guards called out to Terrasque. Two fingers against Boulderbreaker’s neck, and the guard shook his head with his eyes closed. Just as Terrasque plotted. “He’s gone, your highness – you are the new king of our people.”

“A heavy burden. One that I’ve been trained for.” Terrasque began with disingenuous humility, and quickly swayed. “But I promise you. I promise all of you – we will not let my father’s death be in vain. I will finish what he started, no matter how rough the road may be – and I will not rest until all of you – ALL OF YOU – have shown the might and fury of the earth dragons against the fire-lands!”

—

It was a beautiful, if empty, speech. The truth of the matter was that once Lavaetein had been taken out of the picture, the rest of the fire dragons scattered like ash in the wind. Without a strong leader, they were easy pickings – and once they’ve crossed the deserts as refugees in the land of wind, the earth dragons ceased their chase; and Terrasque wasted neither time nor energy on the straddlers.

It was good that he won the favors of most of his father’s generals, who were happy to be given a fat pouch of gold and look the other way, kick the proverbial can down the road in relatively peaceful times. The forest and fire-lands were under the reign of the earth dragons, and any fire dragons that remained were enslaved in harsh labor for crimes of the previous king. Harsh, but fair – soldiers were executed in droves, and civilians were captured and put to work. Five hundred years, as the treaty goes, five hundred years of labor and the earth dragons will return the rule of law to the fire dragons, to the rightful royal descendents of the Lavaetein’s villainous blood.

There were only three of his sons left that were fit to be called heir. The oldest but smallest in stature, Firefly, was a scholar unbefitting of his father’s violent legacy. He was put to work in the intelligence sector, as demanded by the generals, so that talents would not be wasted. Several slave seals were placed upon him to prevent betrayal, and it was up to Firefly to keep the seed of the royalty alive. The other two, whose names have been stricken from all records for their brutish behavior, were monitored in captivity in the deepest parts of the dungeons that kept them barely alive, and neither were to see the light of day again. Their wrists were bound above their heads, legs to the ground, and metallic gags were inserted into their mouths. Their life was forfeit, but like Lavaetein death would not so easily come to them. Days, weeks, months passed, and they wasted away until their bodies digested all of the excess fat and muscles that they were so proud of; the muscles that required years of intense training disappeared and in their place were skin, scale, and bones.

Believe it or not, that was preferential treatment if they only knew how much worse they could have had it.

Lavaetein’s throne room was abandoned, and every hallway that led to it was sealed in a mixture of clay and limestone and reinforced iron rebars. Surrounded by six feet of concrete on all sides, it was now the single most secured room of the underground stronghold, even if it was no longer in use. All sides, except of course, the secret tunnel under the red carpet that led directly to Lavaetein’s bed chambers, which was taken and repurposed for Terrasque’s own use as the emperor of both tribes.

“A pathetic display, Lavaetein.” Terrasque sat naked on the throne made of the fire dragon’s body. It was warm and surprisingly pleasant to the touch, like high grade fabric that would not tear. Indestructible, as part of the curse. “As always. As you should be.” The earth dragon grinded his naked ass against the textured cushion, which felt like skin and flesh, softened and tenderized, smooth to his own scale. Terrasque gripped the armrest and squeezed the ‘foam’, then fondled himself as he rubbed his back against the backrest. There was something about the living throne chair that thrilled him. To sit upon it, to grind his body against it, to lift his legs up and rest them on the new addition of a foot rest – which was a normal footrest with a hole crudely cut into the center, where Lavaetein’s fitted head was forced to look up to the soles of the earth dragon.

Terrasque sketched his legs and slammed his feet down against Lavaetein’s face. The fire dragon groaned. “Oh, it’s not like you could be damaged, foot rest.” The earth dragon jabbed his toe claws into the fire dragon’s face, and muffled screams came from Lavaetein’s gagged mouth. “Pussy. My feet are too good for you. You should be grateful – giving me praise and thanks that I do not subject you to a worse fate.”

As if there could be a fate worse, Lavaetein thought – but he dared not question the cruelty of the young emperor. He did not want to find out; and yet found out he shall.

“If you will not do it of your own accord, then you will be trained.” Terrasque said dryly, with a smile on his face that triggered the fire dragon’s fight or flight response. He saw a similar smile on the face of Boulderbreaker moments before he became what he was – a head, a pair of feet, his cock locked and lost somewhere of the earth dragon’s choosing, and the rest of his body sat upon like common furniture. The words frightened him. “Let’s see if we can teach an old dragon some new tricks.” The young earth dragon said, as he rested both of his soles squarely on the fire dragon’s face. Terrasque reached over and took Lavaetein’s own feet, which now sat upon their own stand – an enchanted pedestal that was kept at a degree warm enough to make those soles sweat when placed upon it, but not so much that it was uncomfortable – not yet, anyway.

“Mmmphhmm u–ummm!” Lavaetein groaned when the earth dragon’s feet pushed and squished his face. He smelled the nuttiness from them, the scent of forest and berries, leaves and grass. They were clean as far as the fire dragon could see, but their scent was intense and potent; just as potent as the young earth dragon’s magic was.

“Spread your toes!” Terrasque commanded, and waited for the fire dragon’s obedience. When it did not come, he repeated himself. “Spread your fucking toes, old man!”

After weeks of being trapped the way he was, Lavaetein finally regained the ability to move his feet. It was nothing but the slight curl of his toes, but even that was enough to catch Terrasque’s eye. When there was nothing else in the room, the slightest movement became the only focal point for the earth dragon, who did have a thing for feet. It delighted him to have made this discovery. Even though he could torment the fire dragon as much as he wanted, nothing would please him more than to manually train and break the fire dragon into his own personal foot slave. Merely stomping on the fire dragon’s face had gotten old, and it was time to take it further.

“You don’t get it. Ahah hah hah hah!” Terrasque laughed in the face of Lavaetein’s defiance. “How long do you think you can keep this up? Keep your fighting spirit up, stubborn one? Your time is over, and your denial only excites me more and more when I think about how much I can break you.”

Terrasque brought the left foot to his face, pushed his nose between Lavaetein’s toes, and took a deep, long whiff. “Ahhh…! Sweaty and musky, just the way I like it.”

“Hh-mmhhh?!”

“Don’t act so surprised, you worthless excuse for a dragon. You’ve been getting used to the scent of my feet for weeks, haven’t you figured it out already?”

“Mmmh?!!!”

“Fuck! It smells so good..! Hng!” Terrasque shuddered as chills and tingles ran up his spine. The aroma was thick and delicious. It’d hit all the pleasure centers of his brain. He pushed his nose between those stiff toes again and huffed for a second time as he filled his lungs with the deep scent of Lavaetein’s roasted, sweaty toes. “Oh, it was such a good idea to bring in that little side project – to keep your feet warm and sweaty!”

“MMMMM!!”

“Shut the fuck up, old man.” The cocky earth dragon dropped his heel over Lavaetein’s nose with enough force to break the cartilage. The curse prevented the physical damage, but not the pain that shot through his head. The fire dragon lost vision for a second before he did his best to suppress a whimper, and then he stayed quiet as he was told. He was humiliated, but even so his pride wasn’t worth another heel drop to the head.

Lavaetein wondered, just how much was his pride worth now?

Next came the tongue that lapped at the sole of the fire dragon’s severed feet. They were not gentle licks of lovers, not licks that savored exquisite meals served by highly commended chefs. No. They were ravenous, greedy licks from a young earth dragon who had to hide and suppress his perverted urges in the face of his subjects. Though his eyes wandered to their sandaled toes, he could never make such a request of those below his rank, never dream to fulfill his desires in such a way.

“Mmm..!” Terrasque moaned as he absorbed the deep, complex flavor of those victory-won soles. “Roasted fire dragon soles. I was right.. To keep them toasty for so long. You have no idea, do you? No, of course not. Nobody does..!”

The tongue returned, and Terrasque pressed it broadly against the heel as he dragged it up the arches. A deep lick, a deeply needed lick. The young earth dragon let himself be filled with the flavors that Lavaetein offered. It was just as good – no, better – than he had ever imagined.

“I’ve wanted this for so long..!” The earth dragon gasped. “Can’t tell anyone. Can’t ask anyone. Can’t let anyone even suspect – but you! You’re not even a person anymore. Just a thing to use, a throne to sit on – a pair of feet to be licked and sucked. Yeah, yeah, that’s right, that’s you now.”

Terrasque turned the sole over and licked over the top. He felt the scales with the tip of his tongue and familiarized himself with the rougher, scaley texture of Lavaetein’s foot. It tasted just as good. Just as salty, just as sweet, just as fulfilling.

His tongue explored the toes and the claws. He felt them twitch slightly as he lapped over them. The white sharp claws, battleworn. Terrasque can’t imagine how many soldiers had their life snuffed out from under these large, powerful, meaty soles – which were now completely helpless to him, helpless to become mere objects of sexual desires.

“That.. reminds me.” Terrasque looked up, then down again. His eyes met with Lavaetein’s between his own pampered feet. “Spread your fucking toes.”

He waited, as if he had all the time in the world. Until morning, anyway, Terrasque was not needed and neither was the emperor. As far as everyone else knew, he was in his bed chambers, locked from the inside, and privileged to his own private rest.

But he was not patient.

“Do you not hear me?” The earth dragon lifted his foot again, and angled his heel. “Spread your fucking toes, or I’m aiming for your eyes next. I can’t ‘destroy’ or harm you, but I can make you go blind for a while, now, can’t I?”

“Mm-mm!” Lavaetein tried to shake his head, which only managed to wiggle a fraction of a millimeter from side to side. He couldn’t. The movement was involuntary. All he felt was pins and needles in his soles whenever he tried. He would if he could. Lavaetein pleaded desperately.

“DO NOT TEST ME!”

The heel came down fast and furious, brutally, and narrowly missed the fire dragon’s eye as it slammed into the cheekbone. Lavaetein swore he heard a crack, and he howled into his gag. “WWWW-WUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUHHN!!”

“Let me make it clear in no uncertain terms, you fire dragon fuck bag.” Terrasque swished his hand and levitated Lavaetein’s head from the foot rest until they were face to face, merely inches from each other. He lowered his voice until it was an angry, controlling whisper. “These feet? They’re not yours anymore. They belong to me. Do you understand? They are mine. Mine!”

Terrasque hissed as the breath escaped from between his teeth. Lavaetein would nod if he could, even if he pretend-agreed only to calm the young dragon’s anger.

“These toes? They’re mine. Mine! And they will do what I tell them to. Do you understand? No, no, of course you don’t. Let me start over.” The earth dragon paused to recompose himself. “These fire dragon toes? They were once the toes of a king. ONCE. Oncceeeee. No longer. That king is no more, and these toes are just the toes of a fire dragon – no; less than a fire dragon. A fuckbag. A flesh sack of fucks. Can’t call you a dragon, don’t want you to start having weird ideas. No. You’re a fuckbag. These toes are mine. They might be psychically, magically connected to your head; you might feel them when I lick them, but they are mine. They belong to me. Do you understand? They are my property.”

“Mm-hm.”

“This chair? I don’t give a shit what it’s made of. This is my chair! Mine! It’s comfortable to sit on and I fucking like it. It’s my chair – it’s not your body anymore, fuckbag – you got that?”

“Mm-hm.”

“Now, I’ve been holding back years – fucking years – of keeping this feet thing a secret from everyone. Years! And now I got these fucking delicious TOES in the palm of my hands. You think I’m going to let you go? No, no, no. You know better than that – no. That’s not happening.” The earth dragon practically ventilated in the face of the once-king, whose mere gaze would terrify children; and here he talked down to that very same face, which reeked of the scent of the earth dragon’s own feet. “These feet are mine, and they will be licked – oh, oh yes they will, Lavaetein, you fuckbag – I will be licking these soles. Will.” Terrasque emphasized the word with exaggeration. “Will. Not if. No a matter of if. WILL. They WILL be licked. These fucking toes WILL be sucked. And for Gaia’s sake – fuckbag, let me make it clear now, again – when I tell you to fucking SPREAD THOSE TOES and prepare them to be SUCKED, you will FUCKING SPREAD THEM FOR ME, and you WILL FUCKING PREPARE THEM TO BE SUCKED.”

There was an unhinged, crazed look in Terrasque’s eyes, and Lavaetein did not know how to respond. It was the first time anyone had ever spoken to him that way. Sub-dragon. Sub-being, even – as if he was nothing. For the silence, the earth dragon decided Lavaetein should be punished. Terrasque whipped his arm and backhand slapped Lavaetein’s levitated head across the cheek so hard that the head spun three rotations in place. The leather and metal rings that gagged him snapped from the strike, and the centrifugal force pulled the foreign object from his mouth. It was the first time in weeks that his tongue wasn’t pinned down to the floor of his mouth. Lavaetein felt the numbness, and although he wished to speak, there was enough sense left in him to hold his fucking tongue. Unlike Boulderbreaker, Terrasque is not one he should taunt – as he realized there was a dark sadism in the young earth dragon, and little, if any, honor.

“Honestly, I’m starting to think you enjoy this.” The earth dragon grabbed Lavaetein’s head and pressed his thumb into the fire dragon’s eye. The fleshy pad of his digit pushed into the eye socket just enough to make Lavaetein see stars.

“Aahh.. Aahh!! No..! No! Please!! Aaah! Aaaah my eye! My eye! My eye!!”

“Shoulda popped by now – damned curse. Oh, I know I can’t really blind you – but there are so many things I can do. There are so many ways to play if you don’t want to play my game!” Terrasque threatened. “Now that you’ve been drained of magic, I really, really want to know, fuckbag – how loud can you scream when I pull back your lids and pour molten lava in your eyes?”

“Oh Gaia..!”

“Spread your fucking toes, fuckbag – or we’ll find out!”

“Please! I can’t!” Lavaetein’s voice broke and cracked. “I can’t! I can’t! I can’t! I would! I’ll do anything for you! I can’t move them! I can’t, I can’t, I can’t!”

“I’ve SEEN you do it!”

“I’M TRYING! PLEASE BELIEVE ME! I CAN’T! I’M TRYING RIGHT NOW I’LL SPREAD MY TOES FOR YOU!! THEY WON’T MOVE! THEY WON’T THEY WON’T! I REALLY AM TRYING!!”

Lavaetein strained. He pushed through the pins and needles and the numbness that plagued him. He cried. He prayed for a miracle. He flexed every muscle in his foot. All he needed to do is curl one fucking toe. He had done it so many times before. His digits twitched once. Just once.

“I felt it.” Terrasque grinned. There was a miniscule flex against his hand that held the foot. “Do it again.”

The fire dragon gritted his teeth and clenched his jaw. Flex. Contract. Flex. Contract. “FUCKING MOVE!!” He screamed. He sobbed. His big toe finally listened and curled with a slight nod.

“Eheheh! Ahah hah hah! What a good boy, fuckbag.” Terrasque released the grip on Lavaetein’s head and returned his attention and favor to the toe that moved. Against his lips the earth dragon placed on the toe a kiss, then his tongue escaped his maw and Terrasque resumed a long, slow lick from the heels – this time towards the big toe. “I knew you could do it. Never try to defy me again.”

“Yes. I understand.”

“Yes, I understand, Master.” Terrasque spoke without even a glance at the fire dragon’s direction. “Master with a capital M.”

“..Yes, Master.”

“Starting tomorrow, fuckbag, that’s your daily training. Every moment you’re awake and conscious, I want you to practice wiggling your toes until you can control them again, you hear me?”

“Yes, Master.”

“And then, fuckbag, what do we do when I tell you to spread them?” Terrasque licked between the toes that twitched in his mouth. It was delicious. The toes, yes, but also to hear Lavaetein speak the words from his worthless mouth.

“I will fucking spread those toes for you, Master – and prepare them to be sucked.”

=To be continued=

Patreon Exclusive: Oct

Encased and Enthroned.

By KinkSaber

CW for this chapter: Mentions of Gore & Death, Mild Body Horror, Modular, Transformation into inanimate objects.

“Look at you now, Lavaetein. Former king of the fire dragons. I’ll have revenge for my son!”

Boulderbreaker, the victorious earth dragon king, boomed his voice in the underground volcano cavern throne room, where Lavaetein, the fire dragon king, and the subjects who worshiped him once called his territory. The buffed, muscle-bulged red dragon was shacked three times around his wrist and his ankles; his body laiden with chains immodestly as the rest of his body revealed through the cold black metal, rags, and some small pieces of jewelry not yet looted by the earth dragon’s footmen. Lavaetein was dragged from the prisons to be sentenced for his crimes, and even with six guards surrounded him his aura of intimidation did not calm. The only thing that gave the earth dragons any peace of mind was the enchanted shackles that drained the fire dragon king’s powers, and reduced the battleworn warrior to little more than the strength of a helpless babe. 

It was a long and hard war between the two clans, and until Boulderbreaker obtained some mystical tears of pearls from Coralscale, the water dragon king, the fire and earth nations were at a complete standstill. Windrider, the emperor of the skies, stayed out of the conflict based on his nonviolent principles, and so with the power of two dragons against one, Lavaetein was eventually defeated by a war of attrition. There were many sacrifices, but none so humiliated as the earth clan’s very own prince, who was stripped of his armor on the battlefield, used as a sex slave by the very same Lavaetein, and then discarded for the soldiers to abuse until he was finally released by the touch of death itself. If that wasn’t enough, the cruel Lavaetein had the poor earth dragon prince taxidermied and posed with his legs spread and his hole revealed before the corpse was sent back to Boulderbreaker. The earth dragons mourned for three days and three nights, and rage grew in their hearts for the blatant desecration of their beloved prince.

The fire dragon king, of course, never imagined that very act would have ignited the spark that led to the fall of his kingdom. Those soldiers who had surrendered were executed, and those who did not were captured and thrown into the prisons under Lavaetein’s castle to rot. Inside the volcano, though, even fire dragons couldn’t stand the intensity of the planet, and as more and more rebels were captured and thrown into the miles-deep cells, the heat of the earth slowly roasted them until their life, too, became part of the molten planetary core.

That was considered a kind gesture for what was in store for Lavaetein. 

With the magical artifact borrowed from Coralscale, Boulderbreaker pointed the staff of the deep at the former king of the fire dragons, and jets of harsh, blue water blasted away at the powerless prisoner until he was naked. Most of the metal chains around his body were washed away by the pressured water, but no matter – they were for show, anyway. The only thing that mattered was the shackles around Lavaetein’s wrists, and those couldn’t be so easily dispelled or removed.

“Your son?” Lavaetein sneered. “You mean the pup who orgasmed as he cried for his father to save him? The very same pup who was then trained to service all of my men? That son? I sent him back, didn’t I? In better condition than when he arrived!” 

The earth dragons pointed their spears at the fire dragon, and when he stood twice as tall as the average footmen, it merely caused him to laugh at their pathetic stature. 

“It’s your swansong, Lavaetein!” Boulderbreaker gritted his teeth. The provocation was clear, but he could not fall for such cheap bait. Not now. “All of you. Leave us. I will personally deal with him.”

“But, your majesty!” His elite squad of guards protested to no avail. Boulderbreaker waved them away. 

“All of you. Empty the halls. I will not have my revenge interrupted nor sullied by anyone – even my own people!”

“Yes, yes. Send them away, and they can watch from the shadows as I rip your throat out the moment they leave.” Lavaetein chuckled. “You think some enchanted chains will hold me? I am the very fire of the world – as you are the earth; as Coralscale is the water, and as Windrider the air. My flames will burn and melt these metals and the spells scripted on them – and then you will be nothing but charcoal when my fire is done with you.”

Boulderbreaker stayed silent until his subjects reluctantly vacated, and from his pouch he produced more enchanted rings, which he held from his palm. 

“Trinkets and toys.” Lavaetein spat. “Go on. Have your vengeance for the failed excuse you called a son. That is, if you think the earth could split fire – no, no. You could never. You’re not strong enough.”

“That much is true, for the time being.” The earth dragon conceded. “Your scales are forged in hellfire; and mine in the bosoms of mother Gaia. It’d be foolish for me to even try.”

“Then release these petulant shackles and I will grant you a quick, dignified death.” Lavaetein said with ego. “It is but a matter of time. These shackles will not hold, and you and I both know this. You are merely prolonging your own demise – and who knows what my wrath will demand of you then?”

“I agree. Who knows what your wrath will demand, then – ah, my bad.” Boulderbreaker quickly corrected himself. “If.”

“I fear your hearing has left you, along with your sanity, runt.”

“Those shackles will, indeed, not hold you, heretic to all life.” Boulderbreaker continued with as much calm as he could muster. It was a strange sense of calm that the fire dragon had not anticipated. He had expected more from the usually emotionally charged earth dragon; as vivid as flowers and lashes out as the vines against the great oak tree. He was eerily composed, despite all of the taunts thrown his way. “But there exists a magic in the world that will.”

“No such magic exists.” Lavaetein quickly interjected. If such a power did surface, he would have gotten it for himself. For his conquest.

“In the very core of the world. A black metal that not even hellfire can melt. The ingots of Gaia.”

“Myths and legends, you old fool.” The fire dragon cackled. The flames within him burned brighter now. His blessed elemental powers were returning one drop at a time, but given how easily metal absorbed heat, it truly was only a matter of time. He had been working secretly all this time imprisoned, and he needed only to stall the earth dragon for a few more minutes, and then the enchantments would burn away like ash in the wind.

“And yet, I’ve found it. Deep under the ocean, under the unfathomable weight of Coralscale. Deeper there, compressed under the ocean floor, turned harder than steel or mythril. Further still, beneath the great sea-lakes of molten magma. Thanks to the borrowed powers of Windrider and Coralscale combined, Lavaetein, I’ve found it.”

“Ah, ever the trickster. Pact of non-aggression. Lies, as I figured.” The fire dragon accused his brethren in the air.

“He would not lead his air dancers to battle, but his power is mine to use for excavation.” Boulderbreaker finished. “And with the essences of all four dragon kings enchanted into the ring made of the powers of Planet-Mother Gaia herself, It will be enough to hold you permanently.”

“..You do not have my essence!” Lavaetein roared. “My power is still my own!”

“I only needed a single drop. Given or stolen, it matters not!” Boulderbreaker pulled at the chain around his neck, which now revealed a dim ring black as night, but shined with the light of the stars. A small, hidden trinket, but now that its presence had been revealed, both dragons basked in its power. It was potent, almost as much as the wave of Gaia’s very own hand. It was under the earth dragon’s complete and total command. Fear took root in Lavaetein’s heart and embraced it tightly. The fire dragon felt as though he could not breathe from the great pressure exerted by the small trinket.

There he felt it. Boulderbreaker spoke the truth. A drop of essence from the dragon kings of air, water, earth, and yes – fire. It was only a single drop, and if he wasn’t aware of this he would have never realized the power radiated through it. Now that he knew, however, he couldn’t snap away from its influence.

“What’s that in the air now, Lavaetein? Is it the smell of fear? Anxiety? Are you feeling.. Nervous?”

“You’re a jester.” The fire dragon felt the scales on the back of his neck stand up. He needed to break free now, or he’ll never be freed. He collected all of the powers that still remained inside him and focused the flare of hellfire around his wrists and ankles. Break, break, break. Lavaetein smelled the way the iron in the shackles burned. A welcomed aroma. He was seconds from freedom now.

“I don’t think so, Lavaetein.” Boulderbreaker laughed, yanked the chain from his neck, and slipped the ring on his finger. The simple act of equipment activated the enchantments in the ring, as did the essences of the four dragon kings. The world fell silent for a split second, then Lavaetein was overwhelmed by the absolute aura of the authority of Gaia. The fire dragon froze in his place, and there he abandoned the thought of escape. It was too late.

“Don’t think I missed your attempted escape” Boulderbreaker growled. He pointed at the fire dragon, and drained him of every molecule of vital, magical energy. Not only was he back to step one, Lavaetein was completely empty. The flames he painstakingly gathered inside him died, and left not even a half ember to keep himself warm. A chill ran down Lavaetein’s spine, but he wasn’t entirely certain whether that was the fire inside him being snuffed, or if his blood ran cold because he was in fear. His hands trembled and shook for the first time in many ages.

“..Curse you!”

“Not as much as you will curse me when my wrath has been unleashed on you!”

The earth dragon’s eyes glowed an eerie green as his cautiously controlled rage spilled from his chest, which crept over his breath as ivy vines up an age-old tree. It choked him, and the earth dragon fought to keep his anger contained. No. He still needed his sanity, his rationality for his vengeance. He commanded the power of the heavens and earth and all four lineages of dragon kings. There was enough juice in that ring to remake the world in his image, but he cared not for ruling – he only wanted one thing, which was for Lavaetein to suffer without end.

A million possibilities ran through the earth dragon’s mind in an instant. He could easily condemn Lavaetein to burn for all eternity, but death was much too fast, much too easy, much too merciful for what Boulderbreaker wanted. No. He wanted – needed – Lavaetein to be conscious, and to suffer, and to deeply regret what had transpired. No. He can’t be dead. Death is much, much too kind.

A flick of his pointed finger and the shackles around Lavaetein’s wrists and ankles shattered into pieces of coal. The fire dragon knew even if he bolted for the door, he would never again escape the power of Boulderbreaker. He stood there and expected his end, and when the claws of the earth dragon wrapped around his neck, Lavaetein closed his eyes and felt the large, powerful hand tighten around his esophagus. He felt the life choked out of him, the air escaped his lungs – and then his entire being was filled with a malicious energy, a dark magic. He opened his eyes to see – and hear – his body slumped to the ground from his detached head. Lavaetein gasped. Everything below his neck felt lifeless and dulled, but distinctly there. Detached and unmaneuverable to the point that he couldn’t curl a single finger. The fire dragon was in shock, but not so the earth dragon.

“Can’t have you dying on me now, can I?” The voice of the proud warrior became hollow, and Boulderbreaker spoke with a malevolence that was akin to nails on chalkboard. “A curse of immortality to begin – even I don’t know if you can withstand the power of the ring, and I don’t want to accidentally let you off the hook, Lavaetein..!”

“My.. my body!” Lavaetein’s voice rasped. He was still in shock. He had accepted death, but death would not have him. He had never felt so naked as the slight breeze in the room continued to remind him there was nothing below his neck. His body fell where he stood, like a pile of useless flesh and bone. “MY BODY!! MY BODY!! WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO MY BODY?!”

“Justice.” Boulderbreaker asserted. It was too late to turn back now. The earth dragon’s heart pounded loudly in his chest. This was why he sent the others away – the power he had obtained was meant to be a force for good, a force to protect and defend; and just as easily as the complex nature of conflict that very same power was defiled and darkened with desires of revenge. This will be his secret to keep.

“HYPOCRITE! A CURSE OF IMMORTALITY – A CURSE! WOVEN FROM THE POWERS OF GAIA HERSELF!” Lavaetein growled. “SYCOPHANT! MIMOCRAT! YOU SANCTIMONIOUS BASTARD! YOU WIELD THE DARKEST MAGIC!”

“Such big words for a muscle-brained buffoon!” Boulderbreaker chuckled with shaky breath. Adrenaline filled his veins. He knew Lavaetein was right, but being bad felt so good. He was to get his revenge. “What’s that you used to say, Lavaetein? All’s fair in love and war, huh?”

“You’d defile even Gaia herself? Just to lord this victory over me?!” The venom continued to seep between Lavaetin’s teeth. “I shall see you in hell, Boulderbreaker – for neither of us will attend the feast of Valhalla. Not after this.”

“You’re right and wrong. You’re not going to Valhalla, but you’re also not going to hell.” Boulderbreaker sucked in a lungful of that vile, sulfurous volcanic air. It was enough talk, enough delay. “For what you’ve done to my son, I will return the favor a thousand fold!”

Boulderbreaker forced himself a violent kiss upon the lips of Lavaetein’s severed head, and blew into the fire dragon a noxious, rotted power he drew from the ring. The elements of fire, water, earth, and air combined in alchemic harmony. The fire dragon would have bit and ripped the lips off the earth dragon, but there was no strength in his jaws – nor any other part of him, for that matter. Lavaetein helplessly existed as the dark, corrupted magic flowed into him and corroded his soul.

And then the headless, naked body pushed itself off the ground and stood as a person did, controlled by the earth dragon’s spell and mind. Lavaetein looked in horror as he felt his muscles and joints betray him. The sensations slowly returned, but every last fiber of his flesh was defiant. 

“Just as you killed my son and desecrated his corpse, so shall I desecrate you..!” 

The cartilages cracked and unjoined themselves in the same fashion as Lavaetein’s head separated from his body – unceremoniously and without pain. The fire dragon screamed as he saw his body come apart, like a roasted chicken being dismantled. His proud skin and scale slouched off the flesh of his torso as his arms and legs, which once had mastery over circular locomotion, became singular segments that proved impossible to move on its own. His hands and feet separated from the wrist and ankles and paired with its twin on the ground, as did the fire dragon’s reproductive organs. The sheath and testicles laid silently, limp and weak, as spongy meat against the dark stained floor, each piece still alive and well. Thereafter the flesh peeled from his bones, laid out on the floor as if he had been vivisected into a living diagram. His organs – lungs, liver, and his still-beating heart – laid next to the scrap flesh and skin, scale and bones. A flowing orb collected Lavaetein’s blood, putrid, thick and black as tar, as it swished in the air, held up by a magical force that kept every last drop suspended. His spine popped, each vertebrate disengaged as his rib bones twisted, freed from the cage that protected his most vital points. Each piece was alive as his head, and each piece pulsated with the rhythm of his heart beat, as a fish flopped on dry land. 

“PUT ME BACK TOGETHER!!” Lavaetein screamed in horror. He felt everything, from the expansion of his lungs with every breath to the pieces of shrapnel on the ground with every twitch of his muscles. Though his body came apart, the wretched curse kept him alive, as if nothing had changed. “Mercy! Mercy! Boulderbreaker! Mercy, please!”

It felt good to hear the once proud warrior beg, but that alone wasn’t enough to mend the earth dragon’s heartbreak. There was a split second where Boulderbreaker questioned what he had done, and perhaps the terror he had inflicted upon Lavaetein was enough – he was about to stop, but it was the fire dragon’s next words that convinced him otherwise.

“Take my sons! Take my throne! Take what you want as compensation, but please – PLEASE! Mercy!”

“..And where was mercy for my son when you disrobed and dishonored him?!” The earth dragon’s voice roared. The ground shook with intensity as the rage of the earth boiled over. “Your sons?! Your throne?! COMPENSATION?! YOU DO NOT CHANGE, LAVAETEIN, AND YOU NEVER WILL – WELL, IF YOU WON’T, THEN I’LL CHANGE YOU!”

“NO, NO!”

“Come, O’ bones.” The earth dragon whispered and called upon the power of the ring. He lifted his hand and directed Lavaetein’s white, pristine bones to lift along with it. The floating marrow mimicked the motion of the earth dragon’s hand and bent to his will. “Become the new foundation of the fire dragon’s kingdom. You are strong. You will withstand everything. You will uphold everything.”

“STOP! BOULDERBREAKER, STOP!! DON’T DO IT!!” Lavaetein bellowed, stricken with panic. He felt his bones become malleable as gold, as each piece twisted and folded on itself to increase its strength. He felt the shapes change as Boulderbreaker touched his index finger and thumbs together and pulled an invisible string between them. The earth dragon’s hands turned, and the fire dragon’s bone contorted like clay, shaped by the potter’s will. Boulderbreaker continued.

“Come, O’ flesh!” The earth dragon’s voice became demonkin. Deep and cavernous, with echoes that reached the far depths of the earth. “Become metal stronger than steel and titanium! You are tough. You will endure everything. You will bind everything.”

The pieces of flesh writhed unto itself as red muscles were stained with black and silver. Each and every last strand of muscle gathered together to form a gelatinous biomass, and as Boulderbreaker weaved his fingers, so too did the flesh spool into metallic wires stronger than steel and titanium. The cables bound themselves around the bones as the structure took shape. It was a throne, much more elaborate and grander than the current one of volcanic stone.

Lavaetein was at a loss for words at the speed that this transpired. His jaw dropped as he helplessly watched his body warp and morph. It was not done yet, no. The earth dragon continued to cast his unholy magic.

“Come, O’ skin and scales! Become the dress of your new form! You are resilient and unyielding! You will adorn everything. You will embellish everything! Come, O’ blood! Become the color of royalty! You are majestic and resplendent! You will permeate everything. You will saturate everything! Come, O’ organs–!”

The earth dragon coughed uncontrollably and spat blood from his throat. The dark red ichor sizzled as it splattered against the ground, just as the blood-turned-paint absorbed into the metal and dyed it red. The magic had taken a toll on his physical form, just as much as it changed and damaged Lavaetein. 

“STOP, BOULDERBREAKER!” Lavaetein begged one final time. “Cease this already! You will die if you complete the spell! It is not in our nature to wield such unholy magic! Undo it all! Undo it and lift the curse from your own soul!”

“If I am dead, then there will be no one left to undo it!” Boulderbreaker cackled with resignation. “Come, O’ organs! Become jewels, bound on display! You are glamorous! You will ornate everything. You will anoint everything!”

Everything from the kidneys to the intestines to the liver and lungs melted into a mass of flesh that pulsated, throbbed, and squelched with wetness. From the viscera sphere exploded diamonds, rubies, sapphires, emeralds, and precious stones of all colors, shapes, and sizes. The stones shot towards the throne and embedded each piece into the armrest and the trims until the piece glittered from the fire-glow.

“C-come! O’ heart! Become the crown of the new kingdom! Come! O’ hands! Become the scepter of the new kingdom! You are authority! You will witness everything. Y-you will be.. Everlasting!”

Ba-bum. Ba-bum. Ba-bum.

Lavaetein’s heart beat one final time as it transformed into a glorious crown of gold and gems, as did his hands. The fire dragon’s fingers twisted and weaved into a long staff that stood taller than Lavaetein ever did. Though they shimmered of gold, the magic that bound it made it indestructible and inseparable from the throne.

“Revoke it! REVOKE THE SPELL! I SURRENDER! I SURRENDER!”

Lavaetein’s voice would no longer reach the earth dragon’s deafened ears. Boulderbreaker fell to his knees. When his eyes met with Lavaetein’s, the fire dragon saw an aged dragon – hundreds and thousands of years drained from his body to enact the spell. The light was fading fast from Boulderbreaker.

“REVOKE THE SPELL!! I BEG YOU!!”

“You will be everlasting!” Boulderbreaker repeated with his final breath. Words have power, these words sealed Lavaetein to his fate. “You will be everlasting. You will be everlasting. You will be.. Everlasting..!”

With the very last drop of his strength, the earth dragon crushed his own hand, and shattered the ring that circled his finger; along with it any hopes of Lavaetein’s freedom.

=To be continued=