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Not That Quiet

by Philay Minyon

Wild. That was one of the two words the Nords of the Pale had always used to define their solitary domain. Wild and smothering. A contradictory statement, but the humans were aware of it, and carried it as a sort of running joke. It was indeed a seemingly paradoxical way of illustrating the land, and often confused the occasional traveler making their way across the hold. After all, the word wild usually sparked a sense of adventure and danger to a traveler. Their thoughts strayed to untouched expanses, teeming with fearsome beasts and exhilarating thrills that made breath scarce and spirits billow. Inversely, the concept of being smothered is a fear all free-willed beings have. To be trapped by infinite blank walls. The Pale was both.

The surrounding forest and mountains remained unbound and largely unexplored. Occasionally, adventurers from the neighboring holds would venture into the dark grove of evergreen, foraging and hunting. Most always made sure to keep the torchlight of the settlement's visible through the cluster of trees and shrubbery. Further down, just along the border to Whiterun, was a small stretch of land, almost barren of sentient life, save for a single, humble manor.

…

Breath, he reminded himself.

Ra'sa's exhales came in slow puffs that seamlessly melded with the frigid air. Nestled in the crook between a sturdy branch and trunk of a bare tree, the seasoned hunter tried to pull the hem of his cloak over his exposed shins. His tawny fur covered most of his body but did little to fend off the chill. Not to mention, he wryly noted, tight leather leggings were rather poor insulators of heat. The tree wasn't exactly an ideal seat, and Ra'sa could feel his shapely rear slowly numbing against the wood. The hunter couldn't remain here long, unless freezing to death was part of his plan.

He shifted around on his perch, attempting to find a more agreeable position for his cramped body. The Khajiit was a fair bit more muscular than most of his kind; his toned, lithe body was won from countless scraps, heists, and the occasional energetic tryst. It was now cramping.

He adjusted his quiver and twisted his belt, moving his knife to rest along his hip rather than have the rounded pommel jab painfully into his back. After carefully hanging his bow on a nearby branch, he jammed both paws under his shirt. His frozen hands were painfully cold against his bare chest and he grit his teeth against the sub-zero temperature. A cold claw accidently grazed a nipple and Ra'sa smothered a gasp, his body shivering against the strange sensation.

Ra'sa surveyed the forest, trying to find a mental respite from the biting cold. To an untrained eye, the woods appeared to be devoid of animal life. However, Ra'sa knew better. Although darkness shrouded the view of the area, a sharp ear could pinpoint the sounds of the forest's wildlife. The muted steps of wolves could be heard as they waded through the sea of snow and shrubbery. Off in the distance, the rustles of feral owls lighting from their daily roosts echoed faintly in Ra'sa's ears.

Despite the rather bleakness of his current situation, Ra'sa felt secure, confident. This was his true home. Every fall of a leaf, every cool zephyr, and every pulse of the forest was echoed in his own body. This was where he belonged, alone with the forests and fed by the wilds. Away from and harming no others.

This made his next course of action taste bitter in his mouth. The blizzard had waylaid him from his usual trail and forced him to take shelter amidst the mountains. There, stuck in a cave, his pack of food slowly lightened before becoming limp against his back. He was hungry and his usual game left no trace in the snow, the footprints quickly becoming lost in another flurry. For all his skill and experience, Ra'sa knew he'd never survive the trip back to Dawnstar, and would starve to death before making it to the nearest farm. He had just enough energy to climb onto a skeletal oak and silently observe the resident of this lone homestead in the middle of the snow.

The now dying civil war left Ra'sa with a cautious opinion of Skyrim's Nordic natives. While the Stormcloaks have been routed, their uprising quelled, the new Imperial leadership seemed only to reinforce the xenophobia within the Stormcloak's former holdings. Thus Ra'sa generally regarded Nords with wariness. He'd been silently observing the Nordic resident for the past half hour, his subject seemed to be a simple settler, ferrying chopped cedar into his home. However, even from this distance, Ra'sa could see the bear pelt the man wore along with the blue tunic underneath. The man had a bearing and physique of a warrior, and was most likely a Stormcloak. Ra'sa watched the bearish man gather the rest of the logs in his muscular arms before disappearing behind the door to the manor.

They were a striking people, he admitted, this man looked to be the quintessential Nord: tall, burly, and quite easy on the eye. A large number of them turned out to be frighteningly racist however. Ra'sa lost count of the number of times a Nordic bandit tried to make him into a rug, or the times he was denied passage into a city for fear of him being a thief. It was a small mercy to Ra'sa that the Stormcloaks wouldn't be ruling Skyrim, their guards did little to quell their citizen's prejudice; it was actually encouraged.

This was why Ra'sa had decided against simply knocking and asking for food. He had nothing of importance to trade; his coin purse had disappeared in the blizzard. Frankly, Ra'sa doubted the man would treat him with any degree of hospitality. Best to sneak in, nick a bowl of soup and leave some sort of payment. Thievery didn't appeal to Ra'sa, who resented the crooked reputation his kind had. However, he was neither willing nor able to risk confrontation. Not with an empty stomach.

The Nords weren't all bad however, Ra'sa had met a few men who turned out to be very satisfying company. He allowed himself a smirk as his mind wandered to a particular Nord he'd met early on in his adventures. The Khajiit thought of their repeated encounters, in the cellars of inns, the rickety backseats of carriages, and once on the throne of a deposed Jarl. He remembered how the breathless aftermath of each tryst left him with a sore and stretched tail hole along with the lingering taste of the Nord's endowment. Ra'sa licked his lips. He shifted, tucking his growing erection into the band holding up his underclothes.

“Need to focus…" He murmured.

The feline's lips curled into a thin grimace before trying to blow warmth in his frozen paws. As usual, he'd forgotten to bring gloves, and his knuckles were beginning to stiffen.

His clothes were providing little warmth and Ra'sa quickly withdrew his hands from under his shirt and shoved them down the front of his trousers, searching for the last warm spot on his body. Cold fingers clashed with the warmth of his groin, and he gasped, leaning his head back against the bark. Ordinarily, masturbating in the wild was a perfect and literal way to get caught with one's pants down, but Ra'sa didn't mind, not this once. His watch was starting to prove tedious and after all, one could only stare at a house for so long before turning to other forms of entertainment. The Khajiit allowed his hands to tenderly grasp his rapidly expanding length, trying to bring feeling to his fingers in order to match the delicious fervor he felt in his loins.

“Ahhh…"

Ra'sa moaned through his fangs, slick tongue licking his chapped lips. The winter air had now lost its bite and each breath felt crisp in his lungs.

As the anticipation of release spread, the cotton loincloth felt dreadfully crowded. While continuing to slowly stroke himself with one hand, he brought another to his muzzle, savoring the delectable musk. The scent of sex and sweat was intoxicating in Ra'sa's throat, now tight with arousal.

Been a while, he mused. With his free hand, Ra'sa deftly unfastened his belt, and hooked a finger across the waist of his leggings. His flexible tail lifted and wrapped itself around a branch. His back arched, curving gracefully as Ra'sa lifted his rump before sliding his pants down, halfway down his muscular thighs. Cold air surrounded his loins and his skin tingled beneath his fur. Free from any restriction, Ra'sa's hands continued roaming, exploring.

He ran a warm thumb across the head of his length, enjoying the exquisite tingling as the soft fur brushed against his quivering tip. His other hand began to knead his furred sac, the cold making him tense and shiver. He continued to massage himself, warmth spreading to his fingertips and throughout his body. Slowly, with each gentle stroke, his tip began to slicken. Pre-soaked his thumb as Ra'sa continued his ministrations and friction gave away to pleasure as the wetness spread to his fingers as they trailed up and down the Khajiit's now engorged length.

Bringing his fingers to his muzzle once more, Ra'sa inhaled. The smell of sex was stronger now, almost overwhelming. By compulsion, his mouth hung open and Ra'sa brought his index and middle fingers to his lips. They tasted of salt and need. With a soft moan, he began to suck on his fingers, trying to lap up as much of his own sexual fluids as he could. His tongue worked expertly around his digits as Ra'sa's thoughts wandered. He imagined something far more substantial in his maw, something far more fulfilling. The sensations in his groin intensified as he increased his pace. Slick fingers went deeper, and Ra'sa's mind wandered to memories of hard cock filling his hungry mouth and hot cum dripping down his chin.

Arousal now permeated the air surrounding him and filling his chest. Musk had always been his weakness. The Khajiit stroked himself faster as he thought of steamier times. Most of those memories involved him with a thick cock down his throat.

“Mmm…" A pitched whimper escaped Ra'sa's busy lips. He remembered his time in Markarth, with those two men and their manhoods forcing his jaw almost painfully open. Ra'sa remembered being on his knees with his armor strewn around him; the stone floor was harsh against his fur but the lewdness of his position was too exciting for him to care. Something about him pleasuring two men in the room just next to the Jarl's throne was so scandalous, so deliciously undignified and whorish.

It had been with a Nord and an Orc, both very friendly and both very well endowed. The Orc blacksmith, Ra'sa couldn't quite recall his name, was much thicker than the Nord and was mostly the reason for stretching Ra'sa's lips so much. The Nord's while just a tad smaller, was no less enjoyable for Ra'sa to take, he was more familiar with that specific cock. Both were delicious, however. Salty from their sweat and musk, dripping with masculinity. In the present, Ra'sa's tongue flitted from fingertip to fingertip just as he had flitted from drooling slit to slit, all the while tracing his tongue in delicate circles around the tip.

“Talented, isn't he?" The Nord had said. A calloused hand reached down and stroked the back of Ra'sa's head. Fingers ran through his mane, before closing and tenderly grasping a handful of hair.

Ra'sa remembered glancing up, mouth still stuffed with their manhoods. Every so often, the Khajiit's gentle bobbing would coax a dribble of pre-cum, slipping past his lips to pool at their feet.

The Orc's grip on Ra'sa's shoulders had tightened, and Ra'sa had watched as the normally surly blacksmith grimaced and moaned each time Ra'sa took him deeper into himself.

“Aye…"

They had all finished at the same time, Ra'sa painting the stone floor he knelt on, while the other two had shot into his waiting maw. He had taken each shot, savoring each thick dollop of seed like a well-trained whore. The taste of those two men was exquisite, the musk filling Ra'sa's nostrils overpowering as he buried his muzzle into their nether regions. It was thick and heavenly in his mouth, and Ra'sa could feel each load warming his throat as he swallowed. The two men's seed had coated his tongue and stuck dripping from his fangs. Ra'sa licked his lips, enjoying the taste of his own submission.

Ra'sa moaned as he stretched out his legs, flexing his toes. He remembered still licking from one tip to the other, his aching tongue mixing the two men's seed in his still-stuffed mouth. When they both had pulled out, there had been too much for Ra'sa to swallow and a steady trail of semen and saliva had leaked from the corners of his aching smile.

His lips made a wet smack, audible in the still air, as he withdrew his fingers. A gossamer strand of saliva trailed from his still parted lips to his claw. The anticipation was starting to get to him, and Ra'sa could feel the rapidly encroaching orgasm starting to swell.

“Fuck me…" Ra'sa whispered. His slick fingers began to wander downwards, past his spreading legs and lifting tail before tracing delicate circles around his hole.

With a brittle crack, Ra'sa's perch suddenly dipped and left Ra'sa tumbling off of it towards the ground. Earth and sky flashed in Ra'sa's vision for a few, terrifying moments. Thankfully, reflexes took over and the Khajiit twisted in midair before landing heavily on his hands and knees.

Ignoring the stinging in his wrists, Ra'sa snapped his gaze from the snow to the house just down the hill, his heart in his mouth. Did the Nord hear? Was he made? The panicked pounding in Ra'sa's ears gradually faded as no man burst out of the front door, ready to lynch a would-be thief. In fact, Ra'sa noted, the sepia glow from the windows had faded, the candles inside snuffed. The inhabitants of the home had likely turned in for the evening.

Huffing a sigh of relief, Ra'sa turned his attention to his pants, still undone and now filled with snow. Trying to ignore the raw stinging between his thighs, Ra'sa brushed as much as he could from his underclothes, wiping his sodden hands on his clock. The heat from his loins had melted the snow that had gathered there, resulting in a matted layer of damp, freezing fur that both numbed and stung.

“Damn it…" Ra'sa muttered as he righted himself and wiped excess saliva away from his mouth with a forearm. Perhaps he'd also borrow a towel from the people in the house, perhaps some new pants too. The Khajiit did his best to shimmy his leggings up his sodden thighs. The dampness and chill had ruined whatever mood he'd set, a rather annoying price to pay for letting his arousal get the best of him. Still, better wet than dead. Better still that no one had witnessed a pants-less feline tumble out a tree.

Pushing thoughts of embarrassment away, Ra'sa stalked his way to the now dark manor. His tail flicked and swayed behind him, sending puffs of frost into the air and smothering his footprints. Even if there hadn't been any snow to muffle the Khajiit's footfalls, anyone inside the house would never have heard him approach. After all, it's much easier to sneak up on a house than a hare. His damp clothes did little to hinder his progress and within a few strides, he had pressed himself against the side of the house. The stone-hewn walls were silent and carried no vibrations, no voices. Although tempting, the front door was best left alone. In Ra'sa's experience, the direct approach was also the loudest. He didn't want that. Loud hunters were hungry hunters. Loud thieves were dead thieves. Ducking under a windowsill, Ra'sa crept towards the read of the home.

Looked a lot smaller from far away, Ra'sa thought. Up close, the house had turned into a manor, and Ra'sa suspected its height meant a second floor from which to enter. His suspicions were confirmed as he rounded the corner from the back of the house, and now saw what the opposite side of the house had concealed. A sort of extension had been made to the house, a one story wing that jutted out with a spindly staircase that had wrapped itself around the corner, spiraling upwards to the second floor. Admittedly, the stairs seemed to be the obvious route, but Ra'sa didn't trust the planks to hold his weight. One fall was enough.

Taking a few loping strides backwards, Ra'sa gauged the height of the wall, just over eight feet high. A railing bordered the edges, a perfect handhold. Leaving a puff of snow in his wake, Ra'sa dashed towards the wall. His feet kissed stone and propelled him upwards. With the casual grace of an acrobat, Ra'sa swung his legs and cleared the railing before ducking into a roll.

With no need nor pause for breath, Ra'sa unsheathed his knife, his index finger resting on the blunt edge of the blade. The windows in front of him were dark and curtained, glossy with frost. Between them, an ornate double door. Snow had encrusted the divots of the surface, framing the carvings in silver. It was quite pretty but Ra'sa paid little attention. The hinges of the door were of more significance to the Khajiit. Taking a moment to brush snow off the iron hinges, Ra'sa ran his fingers along the rusted surface. He frowned. No doubt if he attempted to open the door, the creaking would rouse the residents.

Ra'sa crept towards an adjacent window, trying to ignore the rapid numbness in his toes. He peered into the glass and watched his breath freeze against the pane.

The square window about as wide as his arm was long. No latches, nothing to indicate a lock, not from the outside anyways. No matter. The tip of his knife would make an excellent prying tool. With an artist's steady hand, Ra'sa dragged the blade along the edges of the window where the frame met the sill. The curved tip flayed ribbons of wood off the edge, before finding purchase and disappearing underneath the frame. He adjusted his grip, and gingerly pushed up. He used the knife as a lever, slowly forcing the window inwards. The wind had died down, leaving Ra'sa in stillness as the gap slowly widened. Satisfied with his progress, he sheathed his knife. He had made a space just wide enough for his fingers to slide underneath and grip the bottom of the pane. Thankfully, the hinges of his chosen entrance appeared to be oiled as they made no sound as Ra'sa pushed inwards. Once the window was fully open, he stood and bent over into the gap. A cursory glance left and right into the darkness put his mind at ease. The residents were definitely asleep.

He raised a leg, easing it through the window and allowing him to straddle the sill. Khajiit had innate flexibility, and it showed as Ra'sa bent and folded until he was inside. The warmth of the house was in stark contrast to the chill outside; his ears and cheeks flushed, rosy underneath his fur. Silver moonlight now filtered from the open window and casted Ra'sa crouching form in shadows. He glanced over his shoulder, pondering. Should he close the window? Hide evidence of his entrance or keep an exit handy?

Standing, Ra'sa reached and gently swung the pane shut. No sense in letting in a draft, he wryly thought. His green eyes faintly gleamed in the muffled half-light, comfortable with the pitch black. To his right was a closed door, with faint snoring sounds beyond. To his left, a staircase that led down to the darkened main floor and kitchen. Ra'sa's stomach rumbled.

Down it was. He walked on pin points, gently pressing his toes against each step and wincing at each faint creak. Hunger was no reason to rush however, and so Ra'sa kept his gradual pace until he felt stone underneath his boots. Some light filtered in between drawn curtains, illuminating the contoured lines of the lean thief's body as he crept along the main hall. He stuck to the sides of the great table and when he reached the end, he spied the cooking pot nestled above the smothered hearth. He lifted the iron lid and smiled as he smelled lamb and spice. A stew, still warm from the fire and absolutely tantalizing. Ra'sa stopped himself just as he was about to dip a finger into the pot. He didn't plan on taking the entire pot and dipping a furry finger into the stew seemed rude. He looked around for a utensil before settling on a spoon sitting on a shelf.

The stew looked fantastic, chunks of perfectly spiced meat floating with vegetables, looking so tantalizing in the dim candlelight.

Ra'sa's mouth went dry. Candlelight?

The spoon dropped from Ra'sa's grip, clattering to the floor as his hand was wrenched painfully behind his back. His shoulder began to burn as the joint was bent almost past breaking point. A muscular arm wrapped around his neck and a hand clamped over his mouth.

“Mmmpphh!" The Khajiit thrashed his head as his screams were repeatedly smothered in his lungs. His heart thundered a staccato beat as fear electrified his body. Fighting instincts took over and he kicked a leg back, feeling whoever had him stagger. Simultaneously, Ra'sa curled his free arm and using his shoulder like a fulcrum, drove his elbow into soft flesh, feeling it give way. The hands slackened, just for an instant until they returned to pin his arms and crush his ribcage like a vise. Ra'sa let out a pained gasp as he was bodily lifted and slammed against an adjacent wall. The impact dazed him, and he could hear pots being knocked off their hook to clang loudly against the floor. A seemingly colossal weight pressed against his back, pinning his squirming body to the wall.

“Well, well."

Ra'sa froze.

A voice snarled deceptively low in his ear, “what do I got 'ere?" Suddenly, Ra'sa felt compelled to stop struggling. The sound was soft yet guttural and dominant. Hot breath continued to wash over his neck, which was now damp with sweat. Ra'sa could smell the other man's scent, it filled his nostrils with musk, almost overpowering. Whether by fear or something else, pinpricks arced up his spine. Ra'sa grimaced as his other arm was yanked behind his back, the other was trapped between his own body and the wall. Fingers dug painfully into Ra'sa's wrist, coaxing whimpers from the captured thief. Almost insistently, his assailant pressed their bodies closer together, smothering any chance of movement. Ra'sa felt lightheaded, all the blood seemed to be rushing down as he felt something hard against his backside, sliding into the divot in the seat of his pants. Helplessly, Ra'sa continued to struggle, his muffled shouts sounding more like pathetic mewls.

“Stop struggling." The voice growled again. The grip around his chest tightened and Ra'sa winced. He let his body fall limp, submitting to his captor's hold.

“Now, I'm gonna take my hand off've your muzzle. You won't scream will you?"

Ra'sa meekly shook his head, ears flattened. He heard a deep chuckle, resonating in his ears, worming its way down his back.

“Good boy."

The hand retreated down to his waist but Ra'sa remained silent for fear of what the man would do should he call for help. Though, he doubted yelling would be of any use in this man's own house. Gingerly, Ra'sa tilted his head, eyes struggling to catch a clear glimpse of his captor. Slate eyes, startlingly cold, pierced his own and Ra'sa felt his face flush. Those were the eyes of a predator, merciless and hungry ones that Ra'sa also had on the precipice of a kill. The Nord homeowner continued to glare at Ra'sa hungrily while his face was set in an expression somewhere between rage and satisfaction.

He looked to be older than Ra'sa, just approaching the halfway point of his life. Although it was clearly not the time, Ra'sa couldn't help but notice how striking the man was. The shallow scars that cross-crossed the man's face did little to obscure his rugged features, accentuated by the shadows that now danced across his face. In the flickering candlelight, Ra'sa could now see icy flecks of blue in the man's eyes as they burned holes in his resolve. They were framed by prominent cheekbones, pitted with pockmarks and years of hardship. A salt and pepper beard covered most of his angular jawline, broken only by a jagged scar that intersected his smirking lips and stopped just before the neck. Ruefully, Ra'sa noted that he'd been right about this man being a soldier, judging from the sheer strength the bearish man possessed. Through his clothes, Ra'sa could feel the man's considerable musculature pressing down on him, and he had no choice but to submit. The Nord warrior smiled thinly.

“Ah, so a Khajiit then?" The man leaned in to more closely observe Ra'sa's face. He seemed to be enjoying the fearful effect he had. The question hung in the air for a bit, and the obvious answer died in Ra'sa's windpipe as the Khajiit anxiously stared back at his captor. If anything, the silence only widened the man's grin.

“Don't see many of your kind too often", the Nord continued, his voice was a deep baritone, thick with the local accent. “Trading caravans don't pass through here."

Ra'sa's breath hitched as his hips were roughly pulled back from the wall, his back forced into a painful arch as the man's chest continued to rest on the Khajiit's shoulders.

“So why am I finding one trying to steal this evening's supper? Don't look like a merchant," The man steadily asked. “You a thief?"

He's hard, Ra'sa realized. He could feel this Nord's erection throbbing against his rear. Even through their clothes, the feline could feel the man's size as it sawed in between his cheeks. Despite his predicament, Ra'sa could feel the heat in his own loins as his erection strained against fabric. The flush in his cheeks intensified.

“N-no, just a hunter, lost my supplies in the storm," Ra'sa managed to mutter, “I-I was starv-"

His sentence was cut off by a pained whimper as the man tightened his grip. Ra'sa shut his eyes and turned his head to the wall.

“So you decided not to risk good old Nordic hospitality, eh?" The Nord snarled again, his voice was dominant and refused to be ignored. “Decided it'd be easier to break in to my home and steal my supper?"

“Please, I can pay you back, w-whatever you want!"

The Nord chuckled again.

“Oh, you will."

His hand stopped bruising Ra'sa's hip and abruptly gripped the buckle of the Khajiit's belt. With a deft pull, the man shattered the metal piece, flinging the leather strip to the ground, along with the knife Ra'sa had been trying to reach. The man kicked out and the sheathed blade was sent clattering underneath a counter. Another amused chuckle wormed its way into his ears. The feline's pants began to slide down, held up only by the curve of his rear. Ra'sa could feel the coarse hairs of the man's beard scratch against his ear.

“Could kill you where you stand, y'know" The Nord's voice remained torturously calm. “No one would blame me, s'what a thief deserves after all."

Ra'sa's eyes widened.

“Wait, I-“

“Quiet."

The Nord's free hand began to roam up Ra'sa's torso, feeling the tense muscle underneath the fabric and fur. Eventually his fingers eventually stopped, clasping around the Khajiit's throat. Lazily, a thumb began to trace circles around his Adam's apple. The feline swallowed.

“Be such a waste of such a… fine creature." The man muttered ruefully. The complement served only to cause another twinge in Ra'sa's loins. He could smell his captor's scent more acutely now, sweat and cedar permeated each breath Ra'sa dared to take. The musk combined with the adrenaline in Ra'sa's bloodstream threatened to overwhelm him. Every nerve in his body had been ignited, every time his captor shifted, Ra'sa could feel his own body tingling at the sensation. Which is why he had moaned when the man slowly removed his hand from Ra'sa's throat to gently cup his chin. Ra'sa didn't resist as he was made to look back at his captor again, he wasn't a prideful creature and although he wouldn't say it, a part of him enjoyed being completely helpless. The man leaned in and Ra'sa cast his eyes upwards, hesitantly meeting his gaze.

“If a thief were to try to steal my things, it might as well be a pretty one." The man raised a sly brow and sneered, drinking in the apprehension painted on Ra'sa's face.

“'Course, just because I find you cute won't mean I'll spare you."

Ra'sa swallowed painfully.

“What are you going to do to me?" Ra'sa whispered. Although, he had a growing suspicion of what the Nord was going to take from him as payment. Those suspicions were confirmed when the man undid the front of Ra'sa's pants and gripped his erection, giving it a few rough tugs and eliciting a steady stream of moans and whimpers from the hapless thief. The Nord laughed again, louder this time, more harsh.

“Seems like you've already an idea."

The hold the man had on Ra'sa's cock closed, almost painfully so. The Nord's hips began to sway, forcing his own to follow suit. The man continued to grind against his new toy, burying his bulge in between Ra'sa's cheeks.

“Oh, gods…" Ra'sa mewled. He felt the man's other hand return to clasp his neck. Suddenly, sharp pain streaked down the side of his head as the Nord's front teeth firmly bit down on the tip of the feline's flattened ear, not enough to draw blood, but applying just enough pain to let both parties know who was in charge.

When the teeth receded, leaving behind a dull throb, Ra'sa risked a small sigh of relief. But another harsh whisper brought chills down his spine.

“I'm going to use you," The man said calmly, “I'm going take you, fuck you until you scream and beg for me to stop. You're going to be my little whore and you're going to please me. Look at you, you're hard just thinking about that aren't you?"

The man licked the edge of Ra'sa's ear, enjoying the feline's pitiful moans as he forcibly stroked the cat's stiff length.

“Please…" Ra'sa moaned.

“Just the perfect slut aren't you? Such a good kitty." The man reached down and squeezed one of Ra'sa's nipples, still hard from the cold.

“I-I'm not-“

“I'll bet you wanted to get caught," the Nord snarled, “Quite the desperate little whore, did you really want my cock so badly? Want me to fuck you, cat? Come in that tight little hole of yours?"

Reaching down, he grabbed the base of Ra'sa's tail, yanking it up to allow the man to more easily grind the bulge of his loincloth against the Khajiit's presented ass.

Ra'sa's only response was yet another pitched mewl.

It wasn't like he had much choice; he was weaponless, pinned to a wall, and weakened by hunger. However, slowly the pangs in his stomach gradually shifted to another type of hunger. He knew he shouldn't be so aroused at the thought of it, but Ra'sa felt his mouth watering at the idea of being this man's plaything, his slut. The idea wasn't a foreign one, after all. Lustfully, he thought back to similar situations in his journeys where he'd done the same. Thoughts of submission, being used over and over again for another man's pleasure. Ra'sa's length began to leak, coating the man's fingers in his pre.

“Y-yes…" He managed to groan in between strokes.

“Speak up, boy."

“Yes," Ra'sa moaned louder, “Please… fuck me."

The man stopped stroking Ra'sa, leaving the Khajiit's cock dripping with need. His hand slid out of the moaning bitch's pants, suspended itself in the air, and came down with a sharp crack against the feline's ass.

Ra'sa yowled as the man aimed another wicked blow on the other cheek. His fingers dug into Ra'sa's abused rear, groping and feeling the taut muscle underneath the thin leather.

“I know what you want, boy." Somehow, the Nord's voice remained level throughout all the abuse he was inflicting. “But, you're going to have to beg harder than that."

The stinging pain threatened to bring tears to his eyes but Ra'sa was too far gone to care. Anywhere the man touched him felt electric; every time he called Ra'sa a slut, he felt his cock twitch in anticipation. The man spanked him again and he cried out in growing ecstasy. His feline tongue lolled out of his gaping maw, panting hard from the delicious abuse.

“Please sir, please… do what you want, whatever you want - I promise sir I'll do anything you want" Ra'sa begged.

A hand stroked the top of his head, eliciting a sultry purr.

“Good kitty, calling me sir. Now, on your knees." The Nord said gruffly. He raised a leg and pushed down the back of Ra'sa's knee and forcing the Khajiit down to the kitchen floor.

“Now turn around for your" The sharp order rang in Ra'sa's ears. He started to rise in order to comply before hands grabbed his shoulders to force him back down.

“Didn't say to get up." The Nord growled.

Ignoring the stinging in his knees, Ra'sa shuffled around to finally face his captor. The man bent down, hooking two fingers under his chin and forcing Ra'sa to look up.

Wow, he thought. Now that he could finally see the Nord fully, he was intimidated and more than a little aroused at the sight of such masculinity. Looking up from his kneeling position, the man seemed like a giant looking down. Gone was the bear cloak, but the man was just as intimidated without it. He was naked, save for a loincloth, and easily over six feet tall. Standing with his arms akimbo, his biceps could clearly be seen flexing in the candlelight. Virility seemed to radiate from this man, with his broad shoulders and muscled chest. A trail of grey fur encircled his pectorals before diving, leading Ra'sa's eyes down his treasure trail to a tented loincloth, already damp with the Nord's own precum.

The man smiled down on him, the corners of his eyes crinkling devilishly.

“Like what you see, boy?"

“Yes sir."

“I like what I see too," the man said. He ran a thumb affectionately along Ra'sa's lips. The feline parted them and stole a taste of the man's thumb, still damp with Ra'sa's pre. The Nord groaned, and the tent in his stained loincloth jumped. A dark, moist patch had formed where the tip of the man's considerable manhood met the fabric and Ra'sa could smell the virile scent of his sire's precum. His mouth watered.

“You look good on your knees, boy." The man casually rubbed his erection though the cloth. “S'where sluts like you belong.

Enraptured, Ra'sa's eyes followed the man's fingertips as they went from the base to the outline of the Nord's cut tip. Even obscured by fabric, Ra'sa could tell the Nord was well-hung. Nine inches, he estimated. At least. The slutty feline's thoughts strayed to other senses. Ra'sa could smell the man's musk, the mark of a working man. He had to taste him, he truly did. Ra'sa wanted to have the man grab his ears and throatfuck him, fill his hungry maw with cum. His hands started to rise, to pull down the loincloth so he could fully behold the Nord's glorious manhood. His fingers curled around the waistband, only to be quickly slapped away. Ra'sa winced and a whimper slipped past his lips. He nervously looked up while clutching a stinging hand in another. The Nord had crossed his arms, erection still teasing Ra'sa through the loincloth.

“Not yet. Gotta work for your meal, cat."

Ra'sa quickly nodded at the man's feet.

“Good kitty." His face remained impassive. “Now undo your pants, bitch. You've got quite a long night ahead of you."

Ra'sa felt his cock twitch. He cast his eyes upwards, while trying to smother his feelings of dread and excitement.

“Whatever you want."