Chapter 1 of 18 of my 2nd Spyjirra fiction named You Only Live 18 Times. It’s set in an alternate future of the Elder Scrolls universe – a bit of a steampunk-ish setting. Cut me a bit of slack though, I’m far from a professional reader and certainly not a voice actor. But I did add some effects that make it a bit more interesting I think.The character of Ra’Jirra is based on Kazerad’s side character, though even I have to admit, the connection is tenuous at best.
Boogeestro drew it a few days ago and I’ve been working on it every free second. I rather like it, if you can’t tell. That’s the CatV3 she’s riding – a sort of steampunk-ish JetSki.
And yeah, I gave her a nip bump. Hey, give her a break. She’s wet and excited. These things happen!
UPDATE: FurNut tweaked it to be even better! So this is now a 3-artist combination.
I got a couple of Kaz commissions last night of two scenes from the fanfiction.
Here’s the first – Ra’Jirra at the roulette table:
The other is from when La’Dasha is reviewing the recorded scroll of Ra’Jirra and Ko’Manir’s… um… private time together.
I’ll let you figure out that reflection in her eye. I really love his take on La’Dasha, so I consider this canon now. As for that reflection, I made a slight modification of it to remove it.
What is the world coming to when I choose to modify a Kaz picture to make it less lewd?!
Well, we can’t have that. I also modified the Ra’Jirra to go the other way. I don’t think he’ll mind if I’m clearly saying it’s a modification.
“You understand the mission then?” La’Dasha said to the grate under her feet as she sat on the bench.
“I do,” came the terse reply. La’Dasha had never met the man she knew as Faelian, though she had made use of his services for years. So far he had been undeniably successful. However, her requests had typically been much simpler than this one. She sincerely wished she could have just ordered a straightforward assassination, but that wasn’t the plan. Her operative would need to have a good grasp on the complexities. But she trusted no one more than Faelian.
However, that wasn’t saying much. She wasn’t even sure what race he was, though he was clearly not a khajiit or argonian. She only knew he got the job done where others had failed her. And this was going to be an expensive operation, though expenses didn’t bother the Dominion. A good thing too. The long range weapon she had left in the drop off location was priceless.
“Where?” came the hoarse voice from below her.
“Crypt. Name of Shelley. Key is in the urn on the left of the door. And Faelian…”
“Yeah?”
“I’m going to be following this one closely. It’s important.”
“Got it. When do you expect her in the city?”
“Two days from now.”
“I’ll contact you when it’s over.”
“No need. I’ll know when it’s over.”
There were no footfalls, but she sensed the man had gone anyway. It wasn’t like her to worry, but she was worried now. This was way too complex, and too many people were involved. Important people. If she failed this, she would die. It was as simple as that. Number 5 didn’t have to make the threat. She’d carried out similar orders on other high ranking members herself.
She needed a drink. She crossed the road to a bar. Her eyes adjusted to the dim light within and she sat at the bar and ordered her usual. It came to her – clear, cold and strong. She downed it with a single gulp and ordered another.
“This seat taken?” came a voice beside her. She looked to see a man. Big man.
She thought about it for a moment, then decided she needed the distraction. “There is now,” she replied noncommittally.
“You new in town? I haven’t seen you around here before.”
“Pretty new. Just came in yesterday. Business.”
“Ah,” he said, and she wondered how long he was going to take to get to the point. But it was all part of the game. She had to wait.
“Say, wanna guide? I know all the hot spots in town. This place, it’s alright, but it’s dead.”
“You like cats?” she asked, touching his thigh. She felt the muscles flex underneath her claws.
“I like everybody,” he said.
“Do you?” She looked him up and down. Slowly. “How much do you weigh, stud?”
“Oh! Like what you see? Couple hundred.”
“Mmm. And how big are you?”
“Big enough for a cat.”
“Are you? Well, this one does like to sample the local meat when in town. Want to skip the hot spots and make our own?”
This was the turning point. A lot of men she met would balk at this point. She didn’t mind. It was all part of the game. Some would be turned off by her boldness, and those were the ones that got away. “Go home to your wife,” she would tell them in her mind. “Go kiss your kids, stud. Be smart.”
“Sure, pussy. Where are you staying.”
Externally she smiled and told him her hotel and room number. Internally she sighed. The mean intelligence of the male population of Tamriel would slightly increase tonight. There was that. She was a force for evolution.
“Give me 20 minutes,” she said, standing up and downing her second drink. “The door will be open, stud.”
She saw the lecherousness in his eyes when she turned back at the door, watching her tail make motions in the air. “20 minutes.”
“I’ll be there,” he said, smiling a smile that told her all she needed to know. He would be.
**********************************************
Ra’Jirra stepped down from the wagon behind a family of fellow khajiits into the full majesty of Rihad. It stank. The odor of thousands of different people, all crammed together in such a small space and under such high heat, would yield nothing else. Along with that wafted the aroma of a thousand different street vendors, all selling their possibly-still-edible wares. It combined to give a stench that reached to the sky.
She’d been here before. She had hoped to not be again.
Her contact was named Serosh, a rather bland looking Redguard she had met once before briefly, but she had done her research on him during her trip to Rihad using the folio Em had given her before she left. Not a top agent, but reliable and committed. However, he was a family man, and that was dangerous.
He hailed them a taxi, a premium affair. The Orsimer pedalling it was pleasantly quiet and didn’t reek too badly.
“Where am I staying?”
“The Pendant. Best lodgings in town. They’ve a premier casino and bar if you’re interested. I’ve got you the penthouse suite.”
“Nice! You know my tastes,” she smiled as he offered her a cocktail. She spat out the feathers though. She preferred them plucked first.
“Indeed. But it’s not just for your vanity, Raj. They’re the only hotel that excels in privacy. We’ll talk there.”
Ra’Jirra saluted him and began gnawing on the cocktail as she watched the riffraff of Rihad go by outside. The driver was impressive in his speed and mobility. She lay her head back and enjoyed the meager breeze and occasional respite from the atmosphere of the place. At moments she might almost think…
Suddenly an explosion rocked the small cart. She spun around to look out of the small window behind her. Smoke was rising from a storefront behind them, but the Orsimer was dutifully speeding past. She saw blood and heard screaming.
“What’s that all about?”
“Local disturbance. The usual thing. Massive poor population, small rich population and practically no middle class. The place is ripe for revolution, but the government keeps a pretty firm hand.”
“So that was a revolutionary bomb?”
Serosh shrugged. “Or counterrevolutionary. Who knows? Doesn’t make much difference really, does it?”
“Not to those people bleeding on the street.”
They pulled past the gates leading to The Pendant. Armed guards were in evidence. Lots of them. She watched as the gates clanked into place firmly behind her.
“Are they locked out, or am I locked in?” she asked Sarosh as he took her hand to help her out of the taxi.
He handed the driver something gold and the driver bit it before pocketing it. “Yes,” he replied with a smile, and two large Redguards came to see to her luggage while she strolled into the hotel. The doors opened at her approach, and she wondered for a moment if there might be magic involved, until she saw the ropes which obviously led to a couple of menial laborers stationed to give them a pull at the proper time.
Inside the air temperature dropped at least 20 degrees.
“Whoa! What’s this?” she asked the her friend.
“They call it Air Ice. They have a big tub of ice on each floor with a fan that blows it into the rooms. Nice, eh?”
“I’ll say! Almost makes me think I could live here!”
“Better watch that, cat. Some of us do, you know.”
“Oh, yeah. Sorry.”
“Let’s get you to your room,” he said.
They walked into a small box surrounded by a gated door which he closed. He turned a knob to indicate her floor number, and the box began to rise smoothly. She never did see the laborers that accomplished that little miracle, but she had no doubt they were there.
Serosh handed her the key and she opened the door. The room was huge and immaculate. She even let out a squeal when she saw the bath. It was enormous and open, with a commanding view through thick glass doors that led to a balcony beyond.
“Serosh, you’re not into cats are you?”
“Sorry Raj, no. Not me. Happily married man.”
“Good! You stay there, I’m taking a damned bath!”
“You do that. Sweaty fur isn’t exactly the most delightful perfume, I’m afraid.”
“Don’t I know it!”
She opened a spigot and water began to flow. She had no idea how that worked, but she was sure somebody’s muscles were involved. The water temperature was perfect.
“I’ve left a dossier on the table,” she heard from the next room as she got undressed. “Burn it when you’re done.”
Ra’Jirra lowered herself slowly into the warm water and let the tub fill slowly over her as bit-by-bit parts of her were submerged. She nearly cried with pleasure. “Aaaaaahh!”
“Long trip?” came the voice from the other room.
“Too long. I think I just want to stay in here all night. So, how long are you good for tonight? When do you need to go home?”
“I’m good as long as you’d like. I sent my family away. I don’t like them to be around during an operation.”
“Smart thinking.”
*************************************************
Reblogging the second chapter from bdfanfic blog. I feel like with it being a crossover and involving Ra’Jirra, it’s pushing it to file it under bdprequel. But I’m about to post the 7th chapter over there, so if you want to read it, here’s the link to the archive. It’s adult but not porn, pretty much like the Bond movies.
I showed it to Kaz and he was okay with me putting it on the Booru. Rather pleased at that, though if it gets taken down by mods, I’ll understand. It’s pretty much the furthest edge you can get without being totally totally NSFW.
Anyway, so I came across Starfighter’s work while looking for a Rajirra or Katia to draw, and darned if he doesn’t say right there on his FA page that he’s fine with others finishing/coloring his sketches. So I took him up on it!
I wouldn’t say I’m GOOD at linework/inking. Just that I’m getting better. I kept most of the sketch in behind my lines here as I was planning to go truly furry with it, and some sketchy lines enhance that I think.
I wanted to experiment with this one, so I tried some colored gradient shading on her boobs and a bit of belly. The result was less than optimal. Interesting, but naaa… It’s not just that I only did the boobs and belly so they pop out as 3d on a flat cat – but the color just is wrong and the gradient is TOO smooth. Someone said they look like eggs. (They do!) But it was funny so I’ll show it here anyway.
No, instead I went for 2 level hard-shading. This is an in-progress point. I had the background basically added and most of the colors. But I wanted it more furry than this so I wasn’t done yet.
And here’s the final. I got some suggestions – mostly on the shadow and there’s a VERY slight pink on the nipples. Hopefully almost imperceptible.
That’s it. Starfighter’s Rajirra. She thicc. I also learned a new acronym! BFCT.
There will undoubtedly be more of similar proportions to come. Starfighter has more! Hehehehehehhhh. I’m calling this one nsfw, because it isn’t. Nothing is obviously showing, but, let’s be honest, you don’t want to use this as a screen-saver at work.
She recovered quickly, and the days passed in a Skooma-induced blur. She hated every minute of it, of course, but she started to make some decent coin at least. The Madam was fair enough, and the clients were easy to please though. But as the days went on, she found herself needing more Skooma to maintain her composure. The other girls introduced her to the smoking version of the drug, and that helped for a while, but by the end of the first week she realized that her income was just barely enough to cover her habit.
Then one day she woke and noticed one of her teeth was loose. She knew what that meant. She was losing it. But try as she might, she couldn’t break away from the drug, and no one was there to make her. The tooth fell out one day. It was in the back and not noticible, but she sat and looked at it for a long time. Then she began to cry. The next day she noticed another tooth was loose.
She couldn’t hold up any longer. It was too much. She was laying on her bed, the last client having just left, and she looked at the Skooma pipe on her table.
“I could just end it,” she realized. “Just take too much. Then I could sleep. Sorry Honest John. Your work was in vain. You should have just left me to die.”
She wondered idly what he must have done to keep her alive. Then something shifted in her brain. She couldn’t quite define what it was, but something CHANGED.
A knock came at the door. She knew who it was. She couldn’t speak.
The door opened slowly. Beyond the door was utter blackness. She saw the hand on the door. Blackened and charred.
“Hello Ra’Jirra,” it said.
She screamed, but no sound came forth.
“It is time,” said the cracked, hollow voice, and the thing stepped into the room, closing the door ever-so-gently behind it.
“But… the Skooma. It’s supposed to keep you away! It did!”
“The Skooma let me free, Ra’Jirra. It did what you never did. It LET ME OUT!”
Ra’Jirra released her grip on reality then. It was time indeed. Time to let this happen.
“My turn,” it said.
“It’s 50 per hour,” she found herself saying to the apparition. “How long will you use me?”
The thing shambled closer to her bed, and she took off her clothes, laying back langorously.
“How long?” it asked, kneeling beside her. “Eternity.”
She spread her arms invitingly, and the thing crawled in beside her.
*****************************
“We found her like this last night,” the Madam said to the priest. “She’s only been on the stuff for a week, maybe a few days more.”
“Worst case I’ve seen,” he replied. “But we’ll do what we can for her. She’ll need to be locked in a cell till the addiction passes. You did right by her to bring her here.”
“But… the madness…”
“It may pass with the addiction. Or it may not. No way to know.”
“Poor girl,” said the Madam.
“Indeed. Poor girl,” the priest agreed.
“Every once in a while she comes out of it, you know,” the Madam continued. “She sounds almost normal then, but then she’ll just say ‘She’s back again.’ and off she goes.”
“Making love to a ghost. Can’t say I’ve ever seen the like before. But we’ll take as good care of her as we possibly can.”
“Thank you. Now I’ve got to get back to the House,” said the Madam.
They lifted the khajiit up and carried her to a cell in an out-building of the chapel made for such cases. Currently she was the only soul housed there, but she had regular attendants that came and took care of her. But her routine in the cell didn’t last long. A few days later the addiction had broken, but the madness remained. And she had a visitor. Two actually.
“Doll?” came a gruff voice.
“Oh, excuse me. I’ll be right back,” she said to no one, then opened her eyes.
“Honest John? Is that you? Sorry for everything. They put me in a madhouse, you know.”
“I know Doll. I know.”
“I’m off the Skooma. Isn’t that good?” she asked him.
He was kneeling by her small bed in the otherwise bare room.
“That’s wonderful, Doll,” he said, but the tears in his eyes said otherwise.
“Don’t cry, Honest John. I’m okay here. She just calls me back. She’s very needy you know.”
“Who is?” the theif asked gently. “Who is it that calls you, Doll?
Ra’Jirra smiled. "Wouldn’t YOU like to know! Sorry, old man. She’s all mine!”
Then another voice spoke, odd and smooth. The words startled the mad khajiit and she focussed on the source. An Argonian stood behind the theif. She looked vaguely familiar.
“Katia Managan,” it said.
“You can’t have her!” the mad khajiit cried, grabbing a pillow and squeezing it to herself.
“Doll, listen to me,” Honest John said, his eyes running freely with tears now. “Listen very very carefully. She can wait for a minute. I need you to listen and UNDERSTAND this….”
“NO! You can’t have her!!! You’re going to take her away from me!”
“Doll,” he said. “She’s not real. Now, LISTEN. Katia… Managan… Is… Alive!”
Ra’Jirra listened. The words entered her brain and fell into place. The gears turned. The lock opened, and her brain shifted BACK a little.
The Argonian came around and knelt beside the thief. “Ra’Jirra. You didn’t kill Katia Managan. She’s still alive. She killed that giant imp.”
Ra’Jirra closed her eyes. Her lover was gone. No trace of her. She was… free!
She looked back at the two. The priest was standing in the doorway, she noticed now.
“No. You are too cruel. You lie. You’re not Honest John!”
“I am, Doll. This is Weedum-Ja. She is…”
“Let me take over, Honest John,” the Argonian said gently. “Ra’Jirra, I am S’thengir’s lover. I never did buy that story about you robbing him. But something happened that night. I finally wormed it out of him. When I put the pieces together, I realized what had happened. Ra’Jirra, the Shopkeeper saw her leave. She’s alive! Damned if I know where, but you sure as HELL didn’t kill anyone!”
“I didn’t?”
“No, but not for lack of trying. That was an ass move, locking her in like that. But she killed it. You’re guilty of being a giant asshole, but you didn’t kill her.”
The khajiit looked back to Honest John. He shook his head in agreement. “You didn’t kill anyone, Doll. But almost yourself.”
She sat up woozily. “I… didn’t kill… anyone?!”
She smiled for the first time in a long, long time. “I DIDN’T KILL ANYONE!” she cried to the Priest, who accepted her unexpected hug happily.
Then suddenly she turned back to the thief. "Honest John. I’ve got to find her. I’ve got to apologize!“
He nodded, and gestured to the Argonian. "Weedum-Ja will see you back to Kvatch. But Doll… something has happened. Kvatch is burned to the ground.”
“What?”
“Long story,” Weedum-Ja replied. “But if you want to come back, you’re welcome to come with me.”
“But… bandits?”
Both Weedum-Ja and Honest John laughed at that.
Honest John explained. “Doll Weedum-Ja here is a Level 20 Pilgrim. She could take out the entire city guard. Us bandits wouldn’t go near her. At least, not if we knew who she was!”
“Really?” she asked the Argonian, who bowed in response with a smirk on her face. “I do alright.”
“So… she might be dead anyway,” Honest John continued.
“I don’t care. I’m going to find her,” Ra’Jirra declared and stood up. Suddenly she was aware that she was naked.
“You kept taking off the clothes when we put them on,” the Priest explained.
“Wait,” Weedum-Ja interrupted. “Wait a minute…”
She went out of the room and came back in, rummaging through her own backpack. She drew out some clothes familiar to the khajiit. “My…” she started.
Then Weedum-Ja handed her the spear she’d carried for so long. Ra’Jirra took it and fell to her knees. It was like an old friend, comfortable to her hands.
She dressed and was on her way in an instant. The three had to overnight along the trail as the day was waning fast, but with the Argonian with them, they had no problem with bandits or anything else that night.
“Just one thing,” Weedum-Ja said as they settled into their beds for the night around the campfire.
“What’s that?” Ra’Jirra asked.
“If I ever see you within ten FEET of S’thengir, I WILL kill you. Instantly and with no regret.”
Ra’Jirra laughed. “Fair enough! We women have to understand each other. Just give him my thanks.”
“Fuck. You should want to punch him. If he’d have told me the truth sooner, none of this would have had to happen. He’s an asshole. But he’s my asshole.”
“Good point,” Ra’Jirra conceeded. “I take back my thanks. Fuck him in the ass for me instead.”
“I will!”
Then she went to sleep. Her sleep was not peaceful though. In it, she saw a vision of Katia Managan wearing an outfit she’d never seen before. But she was no longer burnt and horrible. She was just the normal weird khajiit she had met before. The apparition walked up slowly to her, and she fell to her knees. “I’m so sorry, Katia. I was a coward. I didn’t think! I’m SOOOO sorry!”
“Rise, bitch,” said the apparition.
She stood up.
“You’ve paid for your crime. Almost,” said Katia Managan.
“Almost?”
The apparition pulled back it’s hand and let it fly at full speed into Ra’Jirra’s cheek. The blow sent her to the ground and stung like hell.
“There. Quest fulfilled. See you later, Ra’Jirra!” it said, and suddenly her dream was gone. She awoke with a decent bruise on her cheek. And she smiled. She deserved that.
She took another drop of the Skooma, and soon everything was right again. Her body was back under control and she helped Honest John pack up their stuff.
“We’ll follow the path, but not too close. The Legionnaires know me.”
“Sounds good to me. How far are you going?” Ra’Jirra asked as they got underway.
“Most of the way, but I turn off before we get there.”
They left the woods behind and were walking now in the wild but beautiful grasses of Cyrodiil. She saw the path, but it was far to her right as they headed westward.
“You really should get off that stuff, Ra’Jirra,” he said sometime later. “It’s not good for you. It’s not good for anyone.”
She shrugged. “Keeps the nightmares away though.”
“Just starts new nightmares, I find,” he replied, but didn’t bring the subject up again.
They continued for miles, stopping to eat once.
“You ever kill anyone Honest John?” she asked him as they sat, their backs to the path behind a boulder.
“Yeah,” he said bluntly. “A few. Had to, of course.”
“How do you deal with it?”
He sighed, but didn’t turn to face her. “Same as you I suppose. The first is the hardest though. I guess after that it’s just habit. You or them, you know? I don’t like to though. I’ve never liked it. Your first?”
She nodded, “Yes. My first.”
“It’s a hard thing. Did you know him well?”
“Her. And no. Just… circumstances. She was a fool, and it was her or me.”
“I see. Well, if she was a fool then the right person lived.”
“Did they?” Rajirra thought as she eyed the vial again. She decided against it. It was too easy.
The afternoon sun was lowering when finally Honest John and her parted ways. They had returned to the main road after a Legionnaire had passed.
“So, you got family that way?” Rajirra asked as she looked down the side trail he was going to take.
“No. In fact, I’m not even going that way. But you don’t need to know more than that. And ‘John’ isn’t my real name either.”
She laughed, and hugged him – hugged him even though he had stolen all her most valuable posessions and had gotten her hooked on Skooma. He returned the hug. “Be careful, Doll, and good luck to you. Mind what I said about the Skooma. It has a sweet taste, but the aftertaste is nothing but bitter.”
She nodded and bade him farewell, and continued on alone again.
Suddenly she felt a wash of fatigue over her, and she started looking for someplace to nap. Someplace a lot closer to the road this time though. She found a spot out of sight but only a few yards off the road and curled up to take a nap in the afternoon sun. It’s warmth on her face lulled her off to sleep.
“RA’JIRRA” it said again, grinning that evil grin.
“No! I didn’t mean to kill you!”
“Do you know how much I screamed, Ra’Jirra? They found my hands still wrapped to the door handle. Fused to it. They had to peel my skin off of it, Ra’Jirra.”
Another image came into view. Bones wrapped around a door handle that wouldn’t budge. The flesh still attached but the skin peeled away. It was still alive. It was tugging on the door handle.
“Let… Me… OUUUUUT!!!!” it screamed, and her eyes followed the desperate, dead thing’s arms and back, up peeling shoulders, to a screaming skull.
“Please die,” she whispered, and it turned to her. Looked directly at her with it’s eyeless face. “LET ME OUUUUUT!”
She awoke shivering and screaming. She looked up but no one was there. The sun hand set a little farther, but she must not have been sleeping long. Trembling hands drew out her vial and she put another drop to her tongue.
Relief washed over her. She forgot the skull, but she no longer felt sleepy. Instead she fairly skipped down the road. There was more in the vial than the old man thought anyway. She’d be good for a week at this rate! Maybe she might have yet another. She felt… good. So she took another drop and she felt GREAT!
When the three young brigands accosted her, almost within sight of the Anvil city gates, she greeted them happily.
“Want to rob me? Sorry guys, I don’t have anything left. Honest John took my stuff!”
“Honest John eh? You ever heard of Honest John, Paulie?” said the biggest of them to another.
“Nope. Never heard of him, cat. Come on, off with the backpack. Let’s see what you’ve got in there.”
Of course, there was practically nothing. They took the 20 gold of course. And her Skooma.
“Oh HO! What’s THIS?” said one of them as he opened the vial and sniffed the contents.
“Liquid Skooma. Nice! Hey, wanna party Cat?”
“YES! PARTY!” she laughed, and they led her off into some woods well off the road.
They finished the rest of the Skooma and ‘partied’ all night with the khajiit. Fortunately for her, they gave her more of the powerful drug, so in the morning she didn’t remember much of what had happened.
But she awoke naked and alone, with absolutely nothing. Her body hurt and her mouth tasted foul. She didn’t need to guess what had happened. Between the state of her body and the snippets of memory that remained of the previous night, she knew all she wanted to know. She wished she could get some water though. And wash off the smell.
She limped back to the road as dawn arrived. Walking was painful, but she had no choice now. She was hailed before she got to the gate by an armed guard, who looked less than happy to see her.
“Damn, what happened to you, cat? You look like you’ve had a run-in with a troll!”
“I… There were three of them…”
“Uh huh,” he said. “Looks it.”
“Can I go in?” she asked him.
“A fucking naked Skooma addict? Are you kidding me? The captain would have my head if he knew I let you in. Sorry cat, ain’t gonna happen. Here, wait a sec…”
She stood shivering while he went through the gate. It wasn’t the cold though. Nor even the effects of her night of ‘partying’. She was hungry again, and she didn’t have any left.
Presently, the guard returned and tossed her something. She caught it and looked at it, unrolling it. It was little more than rags, but it would cover her. She put it over her head. Now, she realized, she looked the part. The shivering probably helped as well. Skooma addict.
She couldn’t believe what she was about to say to this guard. But there was no one else to ask.
“You… wouldn’t have any…”
He laughed. “Get the fuck off, cat. Look, you can’t come in, but if you follow the wall around to the docks, there’s whorehouses there. You can probably get what you need there or around the docks. For a price. Lots of horny sailors down there. Some might even be desperate enough. But you’d best take a bath in the water first. Saltwater’s gotta smell better than you do right now!”
She nodded, and began the long walk around the city walls towards the ocean. It was a long, long walk.
Of course, any city known for it’s sea port can’t be truly walled. But the docks were kept separate from the city proper, and thus the laws of the city didn’t necessarily apply around the port. Skooma trade, slavery and worse were common. Prostitution was practically mild by comparison. By the time she got there, the place was alive with activity. But she did heed the guard’s advice and bathed in the water. The taste of the salty water as she gargled it was nasty, but it was better than nothing. She climbed back out of the water, dripping and still limping. But she smelled better. Now she smelled of saltwater and dead fish. But it was better.
She put the rags back on while still wet. It clung to her. At some other time, perhaps, it might have looked erotic. But now she was simply pathetic. And the shiver was back. She really needed some Skooma.
It wasn’t hard to spot the whorehouse. She fit right in. The elf-woman that ran the place looked like she was expecting her.
“Wait there,” she said as Ra’Jirra approached up the stairs where the large elf sat on a patio overlooking the docks.
A green orc came down and frisked her, way too thoroughly, before she was allowed to come closer.
“Looking for a job?” the woman asked.
Ra’Jirra nodded.
She groaned, got out of her chair and walked over to the still-wet khajiit. “Open your eyes,” she said, and Ra’Jirra complied.
“Skooma. Figures,” said the Madam. “It’s always the Skooma with you cats. Open your mouth.”
Again, Ra’Jirra did as she was told.
“Nice teeth! How long you been on the stuff?”
“Since… a few days ago,” she answered honestly.
“Jeeze. You’re hooked bad. Jiles, get some liquid Skooma for the girl.”
The orc hurried off inside.
“Bend over,” she commanded, and once again Ra’Jirra complied. The woman had said the magic words. Salvation was coming!
“Holy shit! Cat, what happened to you?”
Ra’Jirra laughed, maybe a little madly. “Long night partying with the boys,” she said. “Out in the woods along the road.”
“We don’t call that partying around here, girl.”
The orc returned with a vial very much similar to the one she had.
“Fuck that, Jiles, this girl needs to lay down. Come on cat, let’s get you a bed. What’s your name?”
“Ra… I mean… Call me Doll,” she answered, but her eyes didn’t stray from the vial.
“Oh, go on. One drop. Then it’s off to bed with you.”
She took the vial greedily, but didn’t overdo it. One blessed drop touched her tongue and she handed it back to the orc. She’d pay for that, she knew. But she needed it. Suddenly her head cleared up. But with the renewed clarity came renewed pain. The Madam actually helped her into the house.
The bed they laid her down on was immaculate. She almost felt she was violating the place by laying down on it, but the sheets were cool and dry. She’d taken off the rag and it felt very, very good. She looked at the Madam. “This is going to cost me, isn’t it?”
The elf’s face looked sincere. “Of course. but we’ll work it out. You’re in good shape, Doll. A day or two from now and you’ll be my best cat. But we’ve got to get you back in shape first. No, you won’t be sleeping in my bed after that. But till then, enjoy the hospitality of the Curved Port.
"And the Skooma?”
“I doubt I’m the first to tell you, you should quit the stuff. But if you did, you wouldn’t be here. So I can’t very well deny you that. But…”
“I’ll pay for it,” Ra’Jirra finished for her.
“You know how it works. Been a whore before?”
Ra’Jirra nodded again.
“Good. Then you know what’s expected of you. %40. I get the rest. Deal? You can walk out now and the rest is on the house. My girls work for me willingly. You can get a higher percentage at the cheap whorehouse on the other side of the docks, but the overall is a lot less. We get the captains, they get the sailors.”
bdprequel 