FSE

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You are not a particularly big individual, no rodent could ever be, and in retrospect getting involved with the mafia, particularly in financial business, was not the smartest idea you had ever had. Sevro was an iron fisted feline and when he demanded money you had best have it. Debts were not a thing one wished to accumulate when dealing with any 'family' man, but particularly not Sevro. Anxiously you ponder the events which lead you here, none of them good. Though you want to run you make note of the two goons guarding the exit. Your wormy tail twitches more frequently the more the stress settles into your bones.

When finally you are granted entry to Sevro's quarters no one carries you there, making your walk of shame feel much longer and heavier than it might have otherwise. Big cats like these boys tower so far above you, and you barely reach the height of their ankle. The room you come to is dimly lit, cliché black leather furniture and a red carpet, perhaps to hide the bloodstains. People don't usually leave the mansion in good condition.

Sevro himself is a sphynx, all wrinkles and lack of fur, tattoos around his neck and the cigar in his mouth make for quite the intimidating appearance. He sits, one leg crossed over the other on the large leather couch, a goon standing on either side. On the dark coffee table before him sits a glass of red wine which he takes a quick sip from. Then with a drag of his cigar he blows smoke up at the ceiling and slowly tilts his head down, intimidating when you consider the difference in your sizes, and looks at you. Golden eyes consider you before he raises his hand and waves it about dismissively.

"I don't think I'll be needing your help for much, boys," he hums, a smirk pulling at his lips. A sharp glinting tooth can be seen under that crooked smile. "Mousing is my specialty."

Without a word the goons at his sides exit the room, along with the crook who had lead you here to begin with. The door closing is a thunderous sound, one that solidifies the knowledge that you are alone with him. You barely contain an anxious shiver.

He takes another long drag of the smoke before leaning forward, legs uncrossing to rest his elbows upon his knees, and he snuffs out the cigar in a fanciful ashtray.

"Well it has been a while, hasn't it," he hums, voice far too affectionate and welcoming for your comfort. "Listen, Kiddo, I know this is your first rodeo here, but when it's time for my clients to pay up I expect the dough."

You feel your chest squeeze tight and open your mouth to explain yourself but he raises a wrinkled hand and hisses, silencing you.

"Hey, hey. I gedd'it yeah? We all fall on hard times, right? I feel yah, but a deals a deal. You knew the terms when you took the loan, I'd expect you to make good on that. But like I said, it's your first game 'o chess so I'll cut you some slack."

You relax slightly, a look of pure relief washing over you, but as you begin to profusely thank him he quiets you once more. You make note of his claws, extended as he waves his hand, and you gulp. Sharp as knives.

"Like I said, I'm gonna cut you some slack, but you aren't off the hook, capiche? So now we need to figure out what we are gonna do to make sure this little mistake don't happen again. And I think I know a way to get it through that little mousy head of yours."

Your nerves are about you again and you find yourself looking around, as though perhaps there is some escape, some miracle to save you from whatever this cruel man is about to do to you.

"Come on now," he drawls. "It ain't gonna be that bad, I'm goin' easy on you. Remember? Now come here." He motions with a claw for you to come closer, you don't.

You're frozen where you stand, petrified save for the shiver which causes you to tremble from your ears to your tail. His brow narrows, the crinkles in his peach skin deepening. The warning glare is like one you've never seen before.

"I said," he half hisses, " Come. Here."

This time you do. You approach at a hesitant pace, and there at his fine polished shoes you stop, an ankle high and nothing more. That foot raises and you find yourself bracing, body tense. You are given a light bump with the tip of his shoe, enough to make you stumble slightly but nothing more.

"Climb on up here and let me get a better look at you."

His eyes are still on you while you climb up the couch, you desperately want to use the leg of his slacks to hoist yourself up, but you dare not. Climbing the furniture is a task and you're near winded when you reach the top, but reach the top you do.

Sevro motions with one finger for you to come, then pats his thigh. You're hesitant but finally you comply, crawling up on his leg and nervously looking up to him. He chuckles and those gold eyes look you over, as though he hasn't searched you up and down countless times since you had entered the room. His smirk is poison.

His claw hooks your clothes and he licks his lips dangerously. His teeth are yellowed from years of cigar smoking, sharp like needles. It takes all your strength not to let your expression become one of horror.

"Been a while since I caught myself a mouse." You're completely mortified by these words. "Heh, no worries. I ain't gonna hurt yah. But I am gonna give you a lil' demonstration here, just to show yah how I deal with naughty rats who don't make good on their word."

And with that his claw cuts through the material of your clothes like butter -- shredding them all, including undergarments -- with no effort at all. Your chest is full of the air you'd sucked in, your heart pounding to beat the band. You have no time to react before his paw clenches around you, and he hoists you high up in the air.

Sevro slides down in his seat, and adjusts his paw till he can dangle you by your tail over his sharp toothed maw.

"Now let me tell you something, Kid, a cat's gotta eat, and when there ain't no money, you can't fill the tummy. Capiche?"

Overloaded by the don's hasty actions you find yourself occupied with the most easily processed fact, that you are naked, and your hands move to cover your body. He shakes you hard by your tail and you nod, blabbering his own words back to him, anything to make him believe you understand.

"You didn't give me my money when I needed it, knowing you had a deadline for your little debt. Well I still gotta eat, and you're lookin' real... Filling."

His mouth opens wide, you feel the pinch on your tail release, the sensation that follows is wet and textured when you land with a smack on his red-pink tongue. The smell of red wine masks some of the lingering tobacco smoke even. Then his mouth closes around you. You take a panicked breath, his lips meet and you find yourself trapped in the darkness of this wet cavern.

You try to scramble to the front of his mouth, away from the soft pallet, but his mouth hollows and that barbed tongue brushes through your fur, trapping you against the roof of his gob. You squirm, hips rocking and chest writhing in an attempt to break free. You only succeed in grinding against the offending appendage that rakes the hair on your body.

A low hum vibrates out of him, causing the chamber of his maw to tremor, jostling you to your core, deep into your bones. You try to squirm again and this time he eases the pressure with which he is sucking, parting his lips to allow you a gulp of air. You push your head into the dim-light, reaching out with your arms. This earns you a chuckle from the man.

Rolling onto your back you place your hands below his whiskers and try to pull yourself free. You try not to think about how drenched you are with his spittle, to ignore how warm it is in his mouth when compared to the cold room. His teeth press down on you, it's not comfortable by any means, and for a moment you think he'll dare to bite into you. He doesn't.

He curls his lips in for another hard suck and you gasp. His tongue forces your legs apart, glides over sensitive areas between your thighs, and the tip flickers against your groin before retreating.

Sevro suckles on you as though nursing a piece of hard candy, hard pulls followed by release and a satisfied hum for good measure. Perhaps if the situation were less of a threat to your life you would consider the encounter seductively intimate, as it stands now, you do not.

You're a sweating, gasping mess when finally he's finished, and his lips release you with a loud pop. You fall haphazardly from his mouth and into his lap with a cough. Whining, you try to wipe the moisture from your coat.

"See, Kiddo, no harm done. But you get the idea don't yah? You make one tasty snack, and I'm an awful hungry cat. I wouldn't push your luck with that in mind."

You sputter and wipe your eyes, trying to nod your agreement. Next time you will have the money. If you don't, you know he'll make good on this warning. The last thing you want is to glide down that croaky throat and into a rotten gut like his.

"Glad we're on the same page. Boy's," he calls, and the door opens on his command.

You -- still unclothed -- reach to cover yourself.

"Find our lil' guest something to make 'em decent, yeah?"

The goons nod and one approaches to scoop you up into his oversized paw. You huff a few more anxious breaths and look over to Sevro whose face has turned sickly affectionate once more.

"One more thing, Kiddo. I like you, so I'll tell you what, I'll give you two more chances. But three strikes and you're out. Still, that should give yah some time."

He stands from his seat, the first time since you'd been in to visit him and approaches a cabinet whereupon there are countless bottles of various wines. He chooses one, returns to his spot on the leather sofa, and refills his glass.

Tilting his head back he takes a fair gulp, presumably cleansing his pallet of your taste.

"But that don't mean there won't be consequences, yeah? A big cat gets hungry after all. So even though you got time, I'd knead that dough sooner than later if I were you. Otherwise -- the next time we gotta repeat this lesson -- I may just take an arm, or maybe one of those thick thighs of yours."

The smirk on his face is so wicked that you feel it churn your stomach. You can't get it out of your head, not even after the goons remove you from his presence.