FSE

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Once in the not so distant past the age was dark and grim. Empires warred with each other, daemons from beyond the realms of mortal comprehension attacked and casualties numbered uncountable across the many races who inhabited the old world.

In this different time the Skaven are not a ravening horde. They are a disparate group of survivors, soldiers, merchants, and scholars not too dissimilar from humanity's own. Many years ago the horned rat, the chief deity of the underempire, saw this discrepancy and was overcome with empathy. Twelve gifts the horned rat gave Sigmar and asked for nothing in return. On the thirteenth, he had beseeched the human god of Sigmar for aid. Shelter for his people was his sole ask.

Despite some initial distrust, a peace was quickly formed across the empire's realms. Though, like the human society the skaven society mirrors, they are a hotbed of different factions and ideals. Even so, many humans were eager to get along with a new friendly race joining the legions which stand against chaos. Particularly one which Sigmar himself, in the time of Sigmar, had vouched for. Thus began a new peace in which the imperial capital of Altdorf has become a melting pot of different cultures. Elves, dwarfs, humans, and now the newest ingredient to an already overflowing cauldron: the skaven.

The window pane jostled with an errant gust, rattling the lock. Mismur's nose crinkled, her whiskers twitched. The acrid scent of tar black smoke met her nostrils in foul waves. That was the worst part of living with the surfacers, the smells. Skaven scents are strong, sure, but burning tar and differing high-class fragrances intermixed with industrial coal forges has an especial way of aggravating a rat's nostrils. The smell stood at odds with the otherwise expensive floor-poster bed and sheets of her room. Purple-carpeted walls lined in excess, golden chandelier, a desk with her own little journal. Naturally, the legs and chair were lined in gold with a purple cushion for sitting on. She didn't care much for the decor but sometimes a John would want her in her own bed so the madam gave her this upscale room. The scent tickled once more: this had gone on long enough.

Her stiletto- a thin dagger of human design, slid beneath the pane and inched it free. With a rough upward lurch, she shoved the window open, and poked her head beyond the confines of her small, modest little room. “Go the fuck-fuck away!" she shouted, teeth barred, glaring daggers down below. A handful of humans- teenagers, scurried away like the ratkin they so despised. A glance downward and- oh, they'd written 'ratfuckers' in bold letters on the street opposite her building below, some foul substance that had the scent of tar. The she-rat rolled her eyes, catching a couple human guardsmen sprinting after them beneath her. It caused quite a commotion on the street below.

She smirked. They weren't wrong after all, the Pfotweiche den catered to all comers. Ratkin or otherwise. It was odd to her: how some humans had embraced their species cohabitation yet others still derided them consistently confounded her. Worse still were the ones who outwardly disagreed with the imperial mandate allowing them residence, yet in private visited their establishment on foggy days in shrouded cloaks. Not that it was any of her business, of course. It never was.

They say prostitution is the oldest profession here. Among skavendom the practice was relatively new. Before she was born, her kind only mated for the purposes of siring more pups for their armies. Now, things are different. Without the constant threat of starvation and raised in a caring environment, skaven behave closer to humans than many would suspect. Her grandfather, himself a devout worshiper of the goddess Soothgnaw, told people she visited him in a dream and directed him to break from his old clan and create a new one. A clan bred to unite both species. “What better way than through pleasure", he'd said. Mismur didn't quite believe the 'official' story of being visited by a god but she couldn't deny: he was a visionary.

Unlike human whores, Mismur knew her purpose, this is what she was bred to do, and she was damn good at it. As much as her siblings would find how easy she took to prostitution to be strange, Mismur didn't care. For her, there was a thrill in this kind of work. In being the dirty little secret human men wouldn't dare to tell the others, but that they always come back to. She sighed happily, the scent of acrid smoke began to dissipate. It wasn't a bad life really, and it did have its benefits.

Shaking herself awake and massaging her now hoarse throat, Mismur stretched and dressed herself, thumbing through a few revealing satin outfits designed by well-paid human tailors. Skaven could craft a patchwork suit of armor, of course, but tailoring was by far and away a human art. As she learned earlier, the Reikland tailors especially. She rested her chin between her thumb and pointer in thought before picking out some see-through stockings and a translucent velvet blouse that just felt divine on the fur, giving her a proper whores' silhouette too. A golden collar completed the look. She checked herself out in the mirror, groomed her hands- humans really liked 'womanly' hands, so her claws shined with purple polish and were expertly groomed to smoothness. Her fur was the plainest of browns. Her pink rodent tail was the most average of lengths. Her eyes, a shining bright red, were exactly the same as every other skaven. She stood a bit taller than her undergrounder brothers and sisters. The characteristic skaven hump was less pronounced among those who live topside. Her veiled countenance reflected in the mirror while her tail coiled up in front of her as she checked it for blemishes. Of course there were none- she was exacting in her perfectionism. Even if she was forever just going to be 'standard' she would make an effort to set the standard. She whispered to herself a subtle prayer to Soothgnaw, the patron deity of the surface rats, checking her fur once more just in case and then she cracked open her bedroom door and stepped into the warplamp-lit hall beyond.

She had scarcely stepped into the foyer when the elder madam Scarpertail Pfotweiche had bumped into her. The sheer size of the elder she-rat nearly knocking Mismur off her feet. “Ah- there you are," she spoke in an affectation of a Reiklanders accent. Grey-furred, muzzled, and with expensive human-crafted makeup and eyelashes that gave her an uncannily human yet unerringly murine countenance. Mismur's whiskers twitched, her forepaws entwining one another as she bowed her head in deference. “I have a special one for you today. I thought you might enjoy this- top floor, Bordeleaux suite." Mismur's eyes lit up. “Who- who paid that much?" Mismur stammered, half due to her queekish inclination and half from a sudden onset of nerves. As if the prince of Altdorf himself had requested her service. At this, Scarpertail's heavy shoulders shrugged. “Someone you're a good match for. Well go on, don't leave him waiting." She chuckled to herself, waving Mismur away and shuffling back towards the office. The softpawed rat spied a hefty pouch hooked on the madams' belt as she turned, brown and plain leather but visibly bulging with coins. Mismur swallowed, her palms grew sweaty.

Turning on her paws, Mismur slinked up the stairs, her paw-fingers trailing along the fine oak railings, amidst a dull purple haze of yelling, laughing, and moaning through the walls. Mismur inhaled the invigorating essence of it all.

The top floor; however, was nearly silent in the hall. The rooms here were expensive and well-furnished, or…very, very specialized. She'd been up here once. A visiting Brettonian knight had vowed revenge on the Skaven and she was to be his target. She played the part of a skaven maiden ravaged by the strong conqueror, of course, but he was not gentle and it lasted so, so long. She had to call off for days after. Mismur's paw-hand wavered on the door handle. Had she displeased the madam, somehow? Was something similarly unpleasant about to happen again? Reluctantly, she gulped, and creaked open the door.

Inside was a young human male, early twenties if not very late teens. Brown hair, blue eyes, extremely slim and lithe build. He was wearing expensive tailored clothes- a vest, a flowery undershirt, tight leather pants too. The young fellow was laying back, shoes kicked off, back resting on the headrest with his hands in his lap. “H-hello!" he spoke in a tone that reminded her of the way she sounded when she was being chewed out by one of her elders. “You're very pretty. Are you the one?"

Mismur cleared her throat. Reikspiel was hard on the skaven diaphragm. “I'm yours today," she offered, fluttering her eyelashes indulgently and closing the door behind her. The Bordeleaux suite was absolutely beautiful. Wall sconces, chandelier, a kitchen area, bathroom, all burning with purples and reds and golds and it was all just marvelously excessive. Mismur wondered if this is how princes live. “May I ask- what's your preference? Shall I be the Eshin Assassin pinning and ravaging my target? Or- the lost, afraid maiden needing the guidance of a learned and wise nobleman?" Mismur spoke in a sing-song voice, her hands behind her back, holding one another. She looked positively innocent.

The young man cleared his throat and sat up straight, remembering himself."Oh my-" he started “Um. Wow you are experienced, um. Well- could you take it easy on me, really?" Mismur quizzically tilted her head. “Gentle and loving?" She responded. “No- well, yes. Well, it's my first time. Uh- sorry, my name is Leonhardt Von Fal- er, well actually maybe just Leon for now." He shrugged.

“Ohh~" Mismur offered a demure little smile. “Your first time with a skaven?" She posited, her tongue flitting to lick her lips in lascivious reverie.

“Yes and- also my first time ever." The human scrunched up at that. Mismur's eyes went wide in acknowledgement. “Ohh!" She interjected. “Oh my goodness- I shouldn't have assumed, mm. That is to say, I'd assume a man as handsome and well off as you to be laden with lady suitors. At your beck and call, even!" Mismur matched his earlier, rapid cadence. She rocked back and forth on her heels, her eyes wide in a mixture of excitement and- just a little bit of disbelief.

“Eh heh, something like that." He scratched behind his head, expensively tailored garments coating his luscious, gentle skin. Mismur wondered how soft he was to touch. So fragile-looking. Far different from her usual soldier and dock-worker fare, with calloused hands and bruised knuckles. “Well, maybe I should be honest." He continued. “I have thought about other humans, of course. I just…I don't know, they don't- Hm. Skaven are…I like skaven girls and I don't like human girls, essentially." He managed, after a thorough exhale. “I am not the type of person to just proposition someone on the street either, so. I'm…inexperienced."

Mismur wore a wide, ratty grin. “Hm." She pondered aloud. “Well, it's not my business anyway- but thank you for telling me. I will make this memorable." With a swift movement, she drew her paws upwards and covered her garments' shoulder straps. Then, she tugged them downward. Velvety coverings fell to the floor as she lifted her arms above her head. “Whoah-" Leon stared in amazement. “Indulge me. What exactly do you like about my body?"

Leon regarded her, from cute little paws to dangerously sharp red eyes. He stared for a second, a second longer. “It sounds cliche in my head," he shrugged, slipped off the bed, and knelt down. This brought him eye-level with his skaven partner. He took hold of her paw, her gentle and dainty digits in his. “Romantic! Try me~" The rat whispered. He lifted her paw above her head, bade her to turn and show herself off to him. Mismur giggled, twirling herself about in his grip as he led their lascivious little dance. “Your eyes," he finally answered, his own hands falling behind her body, wrapping around her back. They were brought face-to-face. “My eyes?" Mismur answered quizzically.

The noble smiled in return. “Bright and red. Exciting as a bloody Saturday, on a woman as sexy as the same." Mismur broke eye contact and glanced downwards. She blushed fiercely, her professionalism hidden only by her furred cheeks. “Sir- please," she shook her head. “I'm supposed to be the one taking care of you- you don't need to seduce me." She laughed even so.

“Leon, please." He countered, sliding backwards and letting himself fall onto the blanket, freeing Mismur from his devilishly soft touch. “Well- Leon. You paid for all of me and I can't in good conscience let you leave her after simply looking at me. So, tell me what you want to do." Mismur crawled overtop of him, pinning the poor lad beneath her weight. She was short even for a skaven, shorter still to a human, yet deceptively strong. “I- everything," Leon huffed out hot breaths onto the smaller skaven's neck., his momentary confidence shattered entirely. “Let's do everything."

She smiled downwards, sitting up on his chest. “Okay. Let's start with the easy stuff first. Have you ever been touched at all? Down there, I mean?" Asked Mismur, her tail sliding down the trapped human's crotch. Even through her tail, she could feel the outline of his cock tenting his pants. Rock hard, a decent size too. It throbbed against the touch of her pinkish tail, begging to be let out. “N-no. Except for myself." Leon huffed out. His hands wandered up to grasp her. He traveled his fingers through her fur and across her agile and strong legs. A strength gained from strange positions with many strange partners no doubt. “Sorry." He offered.

“Oh don't worry about it. It's a good place to start!" The skaven slid off him, scooting her left arm underneath his legs, resting her head on his stomach.She ran her fingers through his flowery vest. Below, hidden by the expensive tailoring and fancy silk vest she could feel his ribs, his chest, the faint outline of abs. Faint, but there. Mismur licked her lips predatorily. “I'm going to take off your pants." She spoke confidently, her claws grasping the hem of his fancy trousers. With a swift movement they were tugged downwards.

Leon's cock bobbed upwards with sudden eagerness. Mismur's eyes met the tip. Six inches, uncut, currently dripping with such eagerness as to be dropping tiny drops of precum onto his own pants. “My-my," Mismur teased, placing the very tip of his cock between her pointer and middle paw-fingers. Thusly trapped, she began to slowly and agonizingly softly stroke his cock just with her two fingers. They traveled down to his very base and up again. Gentle. “Gods above," Leon cried, his fists balling the blankets at his side. “Eager-needy are we?" Leon answered with a sheepish nod of his head.

Suddenly, his body tensed, his breath caught in his throat. Mismur knew what this meant. She grabbed his cock by the base and began to quickly wank him off. Her right hand stroked him at a sudden fever pitch. “Gods!" He whined. “I-" Mismur shushed him with a lick to his cheek. With that, he suddenly came. Mismur looked downwards as warm liquid shot up and over her stroking paw hand. Lances of cum, three ropes- four, over her hand and his own pants, leaving the poor dark leathers stained satin white. “Mm, definitely eager-needy," she snickered, lifting her palm to her snout and licking the errant white drops clean.

“I'm sorry- I'm sorry," Leon stammered, catching his breath. “It's usually not-" Mismur cut him off “Why?" She interjected, slipping down his body, crawling over him to sit upon his thighs. His cock, still rock hard and pointing eagerly upwards. Methodically, she dipped her maw down, pressed her very nose to his tip. She had placed his cock between her and him and flashed him a half smile. She was having fun. “Means you think I'm hot. 'Tsa compliment." Before Leon could respond, the she-rat slipped the tip of his cock into her mouth.

“Holy Sigmar," Leon's head fell back into the pillow as so many delicious sensations overwhelmed him. His eyes closed on instinct, focusing purely on Mismur's dexterously skilled tongue. It lashed every drop of cum from him like a Slaaneshi zealot's whip. Already sensitive from his earlier orgasm every sensation was multiplied thrice-fold. He felt it wrap around his cock, scooping up every shot of cum he'd offered her paw directly into her maw in a storm of wet saliva and wet suckling noises. Again, and again. Leon was nearly on the verge of passing out, until blessedly she popped her head up with an eagre “All clean-clean master!" She effected a high pitched voice like a stereotypical maid. Leon simply stared skyward, panting, eyes nearly crossed.

As he made eye contact with her, Mismur stuck her tongue out as if to prove she had swallowed it all. It was a bright pink thing, long and thin, notably absent of any cum- she really had. “God you work quickly." His head fell back once more.

He almost didn't feel the furry form of the rodent-woman snuggling back up to him. She slid underneath his arm, slipped her arms around him, nuzzled back to his side. Leon's arm fell to her back, he brushed his fingers through her coarse fur. “When you feel like you're ready we can do it again." Mismur whispered, leaving him with a soft bite to the ear. “Or we can just lay here and cuddle- whatever you want to do."

“I'm sorry it was so fast," Leon sheepishly admitted, but Mismur shushed him with a click of her tongue. “It's my job-" she retorted. “Besides- you're not *done* done are you? I wanna see how many times I can get you over in one day." Leon involuntarily gulped but the little skaven was not to be dissuaded. She reached down and palmed his balls gently in her paws, his cock twitched in response to the touch and his member grew harder yet. Mismur giggled, her tail fwipping about in eagerness as she climbed overtop his lap and straddled him. She rubbed herself against his shaft, teasing him by only allowing his cockhead to slip inside, and even that only after brushing the fur of her lower regions along his tender length.. It was extremely tight.

“Oh fuck- I- I- wow. I need this. I need this now, please." He pleaded, his hands falling to her hips as she grinded against his cock. He grabbed for her fur, planting his palms against her thighs and groping wantonly. The skaven girl bit her lip and gave a soft chitter as he fondled her. The feeling of his hands on her body made her wriggle and writhe atop him.. The two of them were silent, their breathing heavy, their hearts pounding. Finally, with a low moan she let the tip of his dick to push through the barrier separating them from each other. He was inside. The rat-girl leaned down, kissing him passionately. Their tongues tangled together, long and thin rodent along short and wide human for only a moment before she broke off the kiss.

Her hands grasped his wrists, pulling his hands away. She took the lead and started to ride his cock, grinding her pelvis into his lap with the bucking force of a racehorse. He let go of her waist and grabbed her ass, squeezing and kneading the firm flesh with both hands. The sensation was enough to send her into her own orgasm, her claws dug into his forearms, her legs tensed as she rode her own pleasure out, biting her cheeks and letting out audible rodent-whines in high pitched and eager noises.

His own climax came soon after. With a grunt and a shudder, Leon bucked his hips, driving himself deep inside of her. Her tail wrapped itself around his waist, holding on tightly as she bounced on top of him. Her sharp nails raked across his chest through the vest and he cried out loudly. Her own cries echoed his, echoing across the room as they finished in a series of small, sweet thrusts. Both collapsed onto the bed, gasping for breath. Mismur's paw fell onto her stomach, running along her tummy. She liked this part. She liked this sensation. Warmth filled her, warmth of the human's cum and just the tiniest little bit of pain that added so well onto the pleasure. Her eyes closed, smiling, happy.

“It's alot warmer than it looks," Leon held Mismur's tail in one hand and her hand in the other. “I dunno I just always assumed they'd be…clammier?" His hands ran down its length, holding it, tracing little circles about the segments with his fingers. Mismur glanced backwards, her legs kicking idly in the air as the man-thing contented himself with exploring her body. In her fingers she held a small hand-fan and used it to cool herself. “Keeps me cool," she idly responded. Her tail made a fanning motion in the man-thing's grip “Keeps all the heat there so I don't get it up here," she touched her nose with a finger for emphasis.

“There's a joke in there about you being really hot," Leon slipped his boots on. Heavy leather things, so at odds with his otherwise flamboyant dress. Mismur supposed one could not put a price on practicality. “But unfortunately the family business calls and I cannot stay to make it." He leaned down to plant a kiss on her check. Mismur flushed like a schoolgirl. “Hey, come back again. We can try the Eshin thing." She winked. “Actually-" Leon cleared his throat. “When you called me master earlier, that was…we should do that. Next time. Next payday. Ahem," he cleared his throat. “I will…definitely be back," he turned and left.

Mismur watched him leave their expensive Bordeleaux sweet and was struck with the sudden coldness of the bed without a human companion to warm it. Mismur smiled. That was why she was good at her job- it simply felt wrong to not be doing it. Redressing, kicking off the bed, making it again and having a quick bath in the provided rooms- she set back out to find one more client for the day.

Hopefully another human.