The Streets of Mithra, a Journal of Bahir
By Sorin
Story is ©2012 Sorin
Of all the jewels in the golden desert, none shines more splendidly than Mithra. The city sprawls across the sands like a carpet of salt on the lush green river basin. Mithrah was the pride of its Shaw and the envy of its neighbors. White walls of marble graced the towers and manors. White wash growing steadily dirtier as one moves into the city marked the beginning of the slums.
I am Bahir by grace of the gods born to Mithra, the city of splendors, dweller of the street. My mother abandoned me soon after I was born, my father, a prince from the splendid brass city of Zinge across the desert, left never knowing of the jewel his loins had sown in his brief foray to the slums. I live with Adura, a shrewd and cunning herbalist, whom I think keeps me as much out of kindness as to have one so young and quick as I to run her errands.
The day I speak of started out as so many do.
“Bahir!” The sharp tone behind me brought me up with a start, a rogue such as myself lives smart, or dies young on the streets of Mithra. Despite my skill, the hunched old raccoon that came up the alley has a way of sneaking up on me. Aided by a stick, she looks as though a stiff breeze would blow her over, but I know better. No one that lives in the Undertown is hardier than Adura, a fact that her kindly demeanor belies.
“I’ve been calling for you, I need you to take these herbs to Ocre’s. She has been a constant nuisance to me, andher insistence to deliver them for her girls is grating, so go, and come right back” She eyes me waiting for back talk.
“Yes Ommah.” I nod, taking the packets of herbs and tucking it into my belt. I give her an obligatory nuzzle, which I know she appreciates despite the huff of wasted time.
Ocre’s is at the end of an alley down Pillar Street and is easy to find. Lit by a single red lantern it stands out even among the smoke dens and less savory establishments in Mitra’s underbelly. I carefully skirt the door to Dougash’s smoke den next to the alley. Dougash runs one of the seediest establishments in Mithrah, and there is talk of boys he kidnaps from the street to sell to slavers. A handsome and cunning Leopard such as me would fetch a pretty copper to be sure so I avoid giving him the temptation by remaining on my guard. A pair of city guards eyes me as I duck into Ocre’s. I would worry but for the fact that I know them. Dua and Kran spend most of their time down here in the bowels of the city, lost in cups and pipes supposedly keeping the peace, but instead turning a blind eye for bribes and comforts.
The sound of the street seems to vanish as I slip into the subtle lighting of Mistress Ocre’s. Jasmine incense hangs strong, in a cloud clinging to the ceiling and corners. From the shadows at the back of the room, a pretty young waif of a cat slips from an alcove where she was watching the door. Chensi carries an air about her of innocence and flighty fancy that often makes men discount her as quickly as they see her. She is, however, anything but demure and flighty. Ocre chooses her to watch the door of her establishment for a reason, and I have yet to hear of anyone causing trouble in Ocre’s that doesn’t, just as quickly leave Mitra for some strange, unexplained reason or another.
Upon seeing me, Chensi’s ears perk and a smile spread languidly across her face. It’s a sure warning sign, but I have a package to deliver and Adura will tan my backside if I come back home with it.
“Bahir, my sweet young thing, what a lucky happenstance you should grace my mistresses establishment on such a lovely day as this.” Her voice is like silk, and could easily draw a lesser male into her sultry clutches with but a word and batted eyelash. She drapes her arms around my shoulders like a serpent and leans in close to my ear. “My mistress desperately wants to see you.”
It takes me a moment to clear my head from the scent of incense and perfume, “Good, because I have a delivery for her that should not wait.” She laughs softly in my ear slipping from me and gesturing with a figure as she pushes through a curtain of silk into the dark beyond.
The smell of Jasmine grew stronger as we traveled deeper into the building.  Beyond a few of the curtains, I could hear the soft moans of Ocre’s customers. Chensi leads me through the dim hallways, opening a door at the end. I stepped through a little hesitantly I must admit. Ocre had men of all station wrapped around her finger and should she choose to could make life for me even more difficult than it stands already. The lady tigress that sat on the edge of a marble fountain, carried the poise of a woman of power, and yet had the demure posture of a lady used to using her charms to get what she wished of men.
“Bahir my lovely, handsome young boy!” She cooed standing from the fountain and almost gliding over to me taking my hand in hers. She drew me towards a small cabinet as she talked her words as flowing as her gate. “Today is a most fortunate day for you my glittering little sand beetle. “ She opened the cupboard drawing out a decanter of wine, casually taking the packet of herbs from my outstretched paw and dropping them on the counter. She placed a cup of wine into my paw before I realized the herbs had left. She slipped her arm into mine leading me towards the suffah pushing me gently down upon it and kneeling taking my feet into her paws.
I am very rarely speechless, or at a loss for the advantage. But look me in the eyes, and tell me with truth that you would not also be taken aback by skilled paws such as Ocre’s massaging your feet, regardless of where your more intimate tastes might drift. Needless to say, I was in a most embarrassingly languid state of purring in moments, aided by the wine which was exquisite.
“Bahir my sweet, I am in a bit of a predicament, which only a man of your stunning handsomeness can resolve.” Flatteries will generally get you most places with me, and if not a massage of my paws will do equally well.
“If I can help you out of your most dire predicament Mistress I am at your disposal.” I purred in luscious response, moaned might be a better description but that would be unmanly and quite unflattering to put to pen, were this not my private journal.
“Excellent, such a charming and courteous young gentleman. There is gold in it as well my sweet, a nice tidy sum of it, when you are done helping with a most difficult client.” I was nodding in bliss and the thought of gold before the words even truly sunk in. I was trapped, she had lulled me and tricked me, trying to talk myself out would only deepen my embarrassment at having been caught.
Ocre stood, having gotten what she needed from me taking the empty cup from my paw.
“Chensi! Come fetch Bahir and ready him.” She smiled sweetly at me as Chensi swept into the room and drew me, still a bit put off, from the room.
A bath is a blissfully marvelous thing. When you live on the street, a truly proper bath is one of the true joys of a civilized society. I was washed, and brushed, and all the exposed skin was oiled… though I admit I did jump a bit at some of the places fingers went to apply the oil. The quiet, quick attendants then dressed me in silk. I use dressed as polite description, since I was left hardly wearing more than when I was bathing.
I was lead out into the hall, still a little overwhelmed and into one of the rooms. 
“Now when he comes in offer him wine, sit with him and do what he asks, Ocre says you have good instincts so use them, though I still think this is a dammed fool of an idea.” I nodded a little dumbly still only just realizing fully what I had agreed to, and all for a few coins it sounded. Chensi pushed me down onto a couple of pillows and slipped out leaving me in the perfumed semidarkness of the private chamber.
I wasn’t alone long before the curtain parted and I heard murmured voices out in the hall. A Cadre of young rabbits came into the room setting out a Hookah filled with fragrant shisha, and took the cloak of a rather stately looking jackal. As quickly as they had come, the girls departed closing the door quietly and I was left alone with the rather imposing figure of the jackal, his features almost entirely hidden in the shadows.
“Wine my lord?” I murmured, hoping the form of address was right, and moved from the cushions to pour. Let no one ever say Bahir is not a good actor. The Jackal stepped into the light accepting the cup of wine from my outstretched hand. I cast my eyes down, hoping the demure act would hide the flash of recognition; it was Amed Sune, eldest son to the richest Merchant family in the city. 
Amed settled into one of the cushions casually reaching out to brush my ear softly as he sipped the wine I had given him. He drew me closer with his softly caressing fingers taking the hookah pipe from its stand and breathing in some of the warm smoke.
The Sune family traded equally in spices and silks. They are notoriously strict in business and the persecution of vice. And here was the eldest boy, heir to the family, lounging in a private room, sipping wine with a young male close to half his age… delicious.
His fingers trailed along my ear softly and over my throat as he indulged in the hookah. The air was filled with the poignant scent of jasmine and rose.   The pleasant scent drifting around his mouth and filled my nose as I refilled his wine without a word, letting him enjoy the quiet, and the less intended sound of my purring. I stretched past him to set the wine aside and that was when I felt his hand grip me.  His muzzle drew in close to mine, I smelled his breath, warm and tasting of wine as did the kiss that followed a second later.
Now dear and tender readers it may shock you, or perhaps not, that I can speak of such things calmly. I assure you, it is only the fond memories of past days that let me put ink to paper so eloquently and composed. In truth when his lips touched mine, my mine melted into startled bliss. Being young and somewhat unskilled, I must admit that my lips had only before touched those of amateurs. Amed was, despite his families apparent Taboo, quite proficient in the subtle art of the kiss, and even in the quirks involved in making it pleasing for boys.
Needless to say, my breath was short with desire and what little I had been clothed in was straining when his lips left mine. He returned to his Hookah settling back and brushed aside his robe with a casual expectant gesture. I was taken aback at the heft of his staff. His flesh was like obsidian and thrust out of the embrace of his sheath with eager anticipation.
I leaned in hesitantly his scent catching my nose, male and potent. He cleared his throat above me, and I realized I had hesitated to long. I caressed him with my paw stroking along the warmth of his length and drawing my tongue gently over the tip as I drew him away from his belly. My mouth caressed along his length as I drew him in my head bobbing slowly, drawing a soft moan from Amed’s lips.
He ran his fingers along my back as my muzzle rose and feel along his length. His breathing quickened slowly, and my hand found his orbs. Softly my head rose and fell, lips and tongue alive on his length as he grew thicker, impressively so, in my mouth, the tangy taste of his excitement building on my tongue. I tenderly teased him and hoped I was performing to his standards. The sudden groan and sharp peak of his musk was the only warning I had before his hand closed firmly on the back of my head and the poignant taste of his release filled my muzzle.
I felt him relax his fingers starting to stroke behind my ears.
“Very good boy.” He murmured softly as my muzzle slowly slid from him swallowing what was left of his release.  His voice was soft, rich and cultured and sent a little shiver down my spine.  He returned to his smoking fingers brushing behind my ears and along my cheek as he relaxed back into the silk cushions. It was an uncommonly languid time, despite the lingering taste of his release; I desperately wanted a bit of wine but knew it would be out of the station, which I was pretending to fill, to fetch some for myself. I settled instead for pouring him another glass and stealing a sip when he wasn’t looking.
I curled up close to him, a gesture he seemed to enjoy, brushing my sides and even began to share the Hookah with me. The smoke was heavy and rich in my lungs, and I found myself relaxing against Amed, purring with languid bliss. The smoke flowed through my mind and left me hazy and dull. We sat close, smoking in silence, his arms slipping around me and I felt myself drawn back against his chest as I enjoyed the warmth in my stomach.
We lingered for the rest of the time him enjoying the wine and hookah and myself stealing draws on the pipe and his fingers trailing gently through my fur, a sensation made only more pleasurable from tingling feel of the smoke. When the time finally came for him to depart I helped him to dress stealing caresses of his pride, which he seems to enjoy greatly.
After his departure I reclined on the silk cushions helping myself to a little wine and the last of the smoke until Chensi comes to fetch me, glaring a little at the wine goblet in my hand.
“Come than, your mussing the silk, let’s get you paid and out the door.” I give her a smile. My mind swimming.   I was in the mood to forgive her all manner of sharpness, especially with the prospect of pay lingering in the conversation.
A few minutes of dressing, I leave Ocre’s a few gold coins richer, in addition to the price of delivering the herbs for Adura.

***

“What did you do, Rob a sultan!” Adura is nothing if not blunt when I showed her the coins I received.
“No, but I bedded a prince.” I replay with a purr. She huff’s obviously thinking my claim a story, and I don’t hurry to dissuade her.
“Well as long as it’s real gold. Right than, run along you little Rogue and come home for supper!” Her final words follow me down the alley, as I scampered away before she could change her mind. The rooftops were calling to me, and I make my way up to them where the breeze is clean and smells of the desert. I stretched out on the sun warmed plaster and felt like the King of Mithra. At least until I felt the prick of a knife on my throat.
People have called me many things. Brash, Flirty, quick fingered, and all are true… stupid is rarely included among my titles. This is especially so when I have a knife to my throat so I went as still as a water bird that has spied a crocodile.
“Drunk on smoke little cat? I can smell it on you, and the stink of perfume. Kasan wishes to see you.” The hissing voice in my ear made my blood run cold; the name, however sent ice through my veins. If you live on the street for any length of time, you come to know of Kasan. The old tiger has made himself a place as the head boss among the many squabbling thief guilds in the under city.
Of course he knows of me. One does not do business on the streets without giving Kasan his cut, and one does not grow as skilled as me without ones name filtering back to him. It is a different thing all together though to have one of his cut throats seek you out for an audience.
The knife left my throat, and I glanced back at the scared rat.  He sat crouched in beggar’s robes behind me. I had passed him on the street a short time before and had not thought a thing of him, even with my skill. And yet here he was, still smelling of filth and deadly as a viper.
He turned and hopped nimbly from the roof. I thought for a second of slipping down the other way, but it would have been my death. One does not simply decline an invitation from Kasan. I followed him through winding alleys and down into the basement of one of the bigger smoke dens in Mithra. Past rooms full of devious looking young men who sat enjoying pipes and darker vices I found myself led past guards and into a marbled tiled sitting room, so strangely clean in the filth of the smoke den. And there, lounging on silk cushions sat Kasan.
I had never laid eyes on the man, knowing him only from reputation and from whispers on the street. His bearing spoke of wealth and power, but power earned on the street, and he had none of the bulk of a sultan or older merchant who let himself go to drink and delicious food.
“Ahhh, Bahir, so good of you to answer my invitation so promptly.” His purr was that of silk, yet it reminded me of the silk that hid an assassin’s blade, to tempting and teasing. Glancing around I realized the door had been closed leaving me along with him. He nodded towards a cushion next to him and I sat, wary of his politeness.
“I hear from my sources that you spent some time at Ocre’s fine establishment this noon.” His voice was casual, and he passed me the mouthpiece of his Hookah, which I took for fear of insulting his most generous offer. I nodded my assent, passing the hookah back to him.
“But this, young Bahir, is not the most interesting.” He waved his hand and I kept the mouth piece breathing in the calming smoke. “What is most interesting is who you met with there.” I continued to purr the smoke adding to the haze in my brain. It seemed not at all odd at the time that his fingers were brushing in a most calming manor along my calf.
“My clever little Bahir played host to Amed Sune, and now graces me with his presence.” Were my Wit’s more about me, I would have recognized the danger in his voice. The fog only lifted when in a sudden gesture he clamped his hand on my most precious jewels and squeezed a groan of pain from me.
“Do you think me a fool little cat? That you could sell yourself off as a whore in my city, and to someone so rich as Amed Sune without my cut?” His growl now crystal clear in my ears as I tried to keep the soft mewls of pain from escaping my lips. “So if you wish to leave my business with your balls still where lecherous jackals can caress them, you will do a task for me, and you will do it tonight before my patience ends.”
I could do nothing but nod quickly, earnestly, and felt the pressure on my most sensitive area ease, leaving me to gasp through the pain for a moment. Kasan sat back slowly picking up the pipe from where I dropped it. He took a mouth full of the smoke before continuing.
“Amed Sune’s father has a jewel in his vault; it is called the star of the evening. You will slip in and fetch it for me.” His tone was back to the same pleasant purring tone he had used when I entered, but now I certainly knew better. I will admit, only here in my most private of journals mind, that I was breathless with fear at the prospect. But I did what any in my position would have done.
I nodded in agreement and sealed the, rather one sided, bargain with a glass of wine.
***
Night found me in the halls of the Sune residence. Having slipped into the house with the nightly deliveries of wine and lamp oil, I had hidden myself in the pantry until the house grew quiet and still. Carpet, plush under my feet left no sound behind my footfalls as I crept towards the office I hoped belonged to the merchant Drocma Sune.
I came to the lavish door that could only lead to an office of a man as powerful as the one I sought. Designed to impress it was intricately carved with visages of dragons and sphinx. I crouched, inspecting the lock before fishing the little iron picks I carried with me for just such an occasion from in my boot. A quick manipulation with deft fingers, and the click of the lock greeted me.  I pushed the door open as silently as I could and slipped into the office.
Lavish appointments, visible even in the dim light greeted me. Plush cushions for entertaining guests, a desk for business and there, in the wall a small vault of steel. Checking the walls and floor for any sort of sorcerous snares I made my way over to the vault. The steel was smooth to the touch with no lock or keyhole to be seen. I began to search about the intricately carved wall finally finding an opening in a wooden cobras open mouth. Calming my excitement, I peeped inside and caught the moonlight glint of a poisoned needle, a trap, and an ingenious one too; the needle was only just bigger than a hair.  A Key would be needed and most likely of the sorcerous variety.
The elder Sune would have it surly. But my adept mind drifted to another that might just hold a key to his father’s business dealings and papers. I crept back into the hall, carefully closing the study door, padding lightly down the carpeted hall ears perked and tongue just past my lips to taste the air of the house for Amed’s scent.
I found the door where the air tasted strongly of the young man and was pleased to find it unlocked. Pushing the door quietly open I entered the jackal’s sleeping chamber letting the door close quietly behind me so as to not draw attention from the guards.
Amed slept on a large bed that could have easily hosted a harems worth of entertainment, and yet I was secretly pleased to find no other scent but his. No wife or palace concubine. I glanced about the room spying his clothing draped over a chair by his desk and made my way to it, rifling the pockets quickly and skillfully. Finding nothing my eyes turned to the desk, and there I spied a tiny silver necklace with a miniature silver cobra, its eyes glinting.

Considering it too much coincidence to pass I slipped the necklace off the desk, and in doing so committed what might have been my last mistake before meeting my maker in the afterlife. A Heavy paper weight caught on the end of the chain fell to the floor with a solid thump.
I froze as Amed sat up keen eyes glancing around the room.
“Who is there?” His voice sounded unsure, as though he wasn’t certain that someone was in the room with him. I hesitated a moment thinking to perhaps remain quiet until he decided he was alone. But we’re I to be caught my plans would all be for naught, so I took action instead.
“It is I my sweet…” I lowered my voice into a sultry purr stepping out into the moonlight as though coming in from the balcony. He looked surprised, to say the least, both at my presence, and at any presence in his room. “I couldn’t wait to see you again; ever since you left me at Ocre’s I have yearned for you.” In hindsight, I was perhaps spreading the honey thickly, but thankfully he seemed to settle more at ease when he recognized me.
“You should not have come…” Even as he spoke I could see the glint of his eyes from the moonlight, following my movements as I drew closer to his bed. Sliding myself sinuously up onto the silken sheets, I purred in response.
“I could not help myself, my desire was too great.” His lips parted to object, to perhaps insist again on my departure until my lips touched his in a warm life filled kiss that had him sliding gracefully back into bed and drawing me with him, apparently still quite needy as I had expected, and based my scheme on from the start.
His hands trailed over my body, caressing my hips, my back,  and down around the base of my tail. His tongue pressed eagerly to my lips which I parted, gladly, to invite him in to my muzzle.  Our tongues joined in the heat of my muzzle to dance. He groaned softly as my own exploring fingers found his arousal, concealed under the caress of a light silk sheet. His touches grew more urgent brushing my hips and catching in the hem of my trousers, which he slid down the curve of my hips. I shifted just so to allow them to continue down my legs kicking them behind me to the floor.
His hands shifted to my bare rump gripping it possessively, and I could smell the musk of his desire in the air about us. His lips pressed to mine with hunger, fingers caressing, teasing up under my tail, drawing a pleased little gasp from my lips as his fingertips stroked and explored.
I broke the kiss with a soft gasp that seemed to come from both our mouths and sat back feeling his arousal brushing through the fur of my rump, a sensation I know he enjoyed for his length twitched eagerly against my bottom. I reached behind, gripping his member, drawing another eager shudder and moan from him and holding his stiff length settled back on him slowly.
The effect was sudden. His fingers clenched on my legs, in fact his whole body seemed to clench as the tight grip around his member slide down past the crown, enveloping the length in heat. His fingers worked against my fur, clenching and unclenching as I hesitated not, beginning to roll my hips, keeping the movements short and steady, brushing his length inside me.
I joined him in panting as his stiff arousal rubbed and ground inside me in a most blissful way.  His fingers clenched more as my movements grew quicker, drawing soft whimpers of repressed cries from his lips. My own fingers clenched into the fur of his chest as I lost my self in the pleasurable work.
I nearly yowled in surprise when his fingers closed on my arousal, already teetering on the edge of a much needed release as it stood. I bit my lip, my own whimpers joining his soft sound of pleasure. I could swear through my haze that the corner of his muzzle curled up into a smile at the sounds his paw forced from me.
However, the final surprise was his, when I clenched him inside me, and my fingers gripped so hard that my claws slipped free, I shuddered in release, painting the front of his chest from chin to naval with quite pent up bursts of my seed.
I sat back on him panting as though I had just run across town. Looking down at his face, I found the utter look of his surprise at the volume to my release was priceless. I couldn’t help but giggle at the look on his muzzle. My giggle lasted only a moment quickly shifting to soft groans, as his paws found my hips again, and he began to drive himself up into me now with renewed intensity, so much so that I had to twine my fingers in his slick chest fur to keep from being bucked off.
I watched his face eyes open but a crack. His look was intense as driven towards his goal of pleasure as I had ever seen a man. His eyes opened suddenly wide, jaw parting, and it was all I could do to grab his muzzle holding his mouth closed as he cried out his release, forgetting the concern of silence he had shown before we began. I held his muzzle as he panted for air through his nose, throbbing fully, deep inside me, and I knew his essence was surging inside along with this throbbing member.
Finally, his body relaxed, and I slipped my fingers from his lips. He licked my fingers as they left his mouth and I reached back casually as he caught his breath to confirm that his knot had indeed remained outside me in our passion. I slid off him slowly and settled next to him, the pungent scent of our lovemaking strong in the air. He settled against me, arm about my shoulder and murmured.
“You must be gone before morning.” I nodded against his chest, after all, I thought to myself that was always the plan.
An hour of soft kisses, soft breathing and eventually quiet snores from my lover found me dressed and back in the well carpeted hall. With the key in my possession, the safe provided no challenge and opened to reveal my prize. The star of the evening was a blue sapphire the size of my first, and while yes my paws are quite dainty as contributes to my profession, it was none the less impressive.
Into my pouch went the stone alone with a sack of coins, most likely from the elder Sune’s daily business. I returned the safe where I had found it, and was even so bold as to relock the door and return Amed’s key to his desk, no sense in letting such a lovely night be ruined by suspicion from his father. Than I was down the garden trestle and out over the wall.
The smells and sounds of the city at night were like music to me. They flowed through me as I walked from the Sune estate. Kasan would have his stone, I would have the coins, and I had shared a lovely night in the bed of a merchant prince. You might scoff at my tales as exaggeration and lies, but I swear on my mother’s grave they are all true. Just another night for the greatest thief in the golden desert, Bahir of Mithra!