Aithne balanced the tray on her hip as she stepped into the suite. Urag sat on the bed holding Chtonji in front of his face and making incongruent cooing noises. The baby smiled and gurgled and reached out a tiny green hand to grasp Urag’s tusk, and her Master laughed. Aithne paused a moment to cast a fond look at both before moving to the dining area and setting the table.
Urag entered the room just as she finished and handed her the baby as he passed toward the bathing room. As sh
Aithne slipped from the bath and dried, then put on the clean robes that waited near the bath cabinets. It had taken some time to find out where the laundry was done, but once she had found it, she had taken over that duty as well. As with the food, Urag cared little about what the robes he put on looked like. Also like the food, Aithne cared in his stead; his robes were now always free of stains and pressed. She made sure of it.
When she stepped out of the suite into the Arcaneum, s
Aithne felt a glow in her and she basked in its heat as she set the breakfast table. It was a new emotion, one she had difficulty naming. Joy seemed a bit strong. Happiness as well, though treading carefully around the perimeter of the word did not lead to a feeling of it being entirely out of place. She feared to pursue that thought further, shying away and shifting downward.
She rolled the word around in her head and it felt right. She had made her Master happy
Aithne woke with a feeling of slight panic. There was something she was supposed to do. Or supposed to have done. What was it?
She looked around the dark room. Nothing seemed amiss. Urag snored from the bed, a sound that always made Aithne smile a little only because it felt like an outward expression of the differences between her orc masters. Both had snored, but Urag’s was a gentle rumble. Borkul’s snores were like him – oversized and powerful. And difficult to sleep with.
It had felt best to wait until the day was done to broach the subject so she wouldn’t interrupt Urag’s work, but now that they were alone in his quarters, Aithne wasn’t so sure. Perhaps he wouldn’t want to discuss it now. She cringed inwardly but held her ground – there was no going back now.
Urag didn’t look up from his stew. “Hm?”
“I…um…I have finished the book. You said to tell you when I was done.”
That did bring his attention away from
Aithne’s eye followed the path inscribed on the floor, though she had long since memorized the parts of the pattern that were within her view. After all she had been through, standing behind a desk with nothing demanded of her while wearing a basic but comfortable college robe and shoes was a welcome circumstance, but it was not without its own discomforts. Her feet and back ached, neither helped by the stone floor nor her growing belly.
Not that she would ever say anything, of cours
“MERKS! WHAT IN OBLIVION?!”
Aithne had heard the phrase ‘loud enough to wake the dead’ but this was the first time she had witnessed it. She blinked open her eye, then groaned as pain washed over her. Every bit of her body felt battered and bruised. Well, externally, anyway. As much as it hurt, it was still nothing compared to what Borkul’s clients had wrought. Not that that helped her headache. She tried to lift her hand, but the spike of pain that shot up her arm in protest foresta
Every day for a month, Merks persisted. Every day he became a little crueler, inflicted a little more pain. Every day, Aithne endured it. Sometimes she cried out - pain still hurt, no matter how pathetic the source – but always, he seemed unsatisfied at the end.
His friends showed up with their same enthusiasm the remainder of the first week but the crowd began to peter out as the month went on until it was whittled to just the two of them. On the twenty-seventh day, she followed him
Aithne stood in the same spot as she had the day before, though this time she paid more attention to the room around her. If her past way of serving was not what her new Master wanted, she needed to know what was.
Although there was little to see that gave her a clue. It was the same as the day before – people (presumably students or teachers) came in, chose specific books or scrolls for no clear reason, then sat or stood or paced and read them. Sometimes someone would have several b
When her Master climbed out of bed the next morning, Aithne was on her feet, posed and ready to do things right this time. Whatever that might look like.
Her Master yawned and rubbed his eyes. His cock strained against the silk breeches – he had awoken with an erection, one thing, at least, he and Borkul had in common. Her new Master turned, then froze when he saw her.
“Ah. It wasn’t a dream.” A big sigh, then, as Aithne waited. Had it been Borkul, she would have already
Her reverie was broken by sudden noise, and she looked up as alarm coursed the length of her nerves and she shouted silent curses at herself. She hadn’t been paying attention, hadn’t been watching her new Master, hadn’t…
Her self-berating stopped with as abrupt a transition as the panic had inspired.
Aithne had lived most of her life at sea and, when outdoors, could tell the time of day or night in an instant, even when clouds obscured the sky. But there were no windows i
The room around them was giant and magnificent, filled to the brim with bizarre apparatuses. The very air buzzed with energy. Bright light shone from fire-less sconces along the wall and glowing runes covered the floor. High above Aithne’s head, large spheres rotated and spun, each at different speeds, in some strange pattern she could not grasp. She gaped at her surroundings, trying to take in the entirety of the giant room, but everywhere she looked, she saw something new, and each new thing s
Aithne sat on the floor of the cage that encompassed a full third of the inn’s front porch and simply enjoyed not being weighed down by chains. Rorikstead, she decided, was her favorite town in Skyrim, at least so far. First, it was not one of the places she had visited with…Him (though the occurrences were less frequent and less severe after two weeks of distance, she still felt the familiar combined spark of hatred and longing shiver through her body at the thought of her former master) and, s
The end was coming. Aithne could feel it, could almost see Death’s cold fingers reaching toward her. It had been five days since they had left Markarth and she knew she would not last even that much more. Though it was the first five day stretch since she had landed in this cursed land that she had not been forced to fuck someone, it was the worst five days of the entire experience. And it was not a close comparison.
She plodded along steep mountain road on her toes, leaving a red tr
After three and a half days of travel with Sutfu and the other pilgrims – for pilgrims was what they purported to be – Aithne was on her last gasp of stamina. Every step on the steep mountain paths was torture in the spiked shoes and she was lagging behind the group when they made their fourth camp.
She slumped to the ground next to where Sutfu placed his bedroll and tried to enjoy the respite from movement, but her body was wracked with eponymous pain and she could not tell the diff
She had thought she knew cruelty. From the moment Borkul had dragged himself from the wreckage of the Jaunty Spirit, she had undergone every torture she could imagine (along with several she would never have envisioned had she had all of eternity to think upon it). He had beaten her and raped her and ground her down until she was nothing but a mindless plaything. She had thought him cruel, then and after. But the truth was, he had not been.
Evil, certainly. It would not be possible t
A sudden lack of movement tumbled Aithne from chaotic dreams that slipped from her mind with alacrity, leaving only a tainted residue of disoriented horror as her eyes cracked open to see the first blushes of pink painted against the star-laden sky.
Her arms ached and her legs felt numb. She shook her head. There was no time for this - if they had stopped, HE would be expecting her to…
The thought froze in her mind as the memories of the night before crashed in concert wi
It couldn’t last, of course. Sound returned first. It began as a distant whistle and grew over time, as the cart jostled along narrow, rocky mountain roads. A faint breeze, a rushing wind, then a slight pop and she could hear once again.
From this crack, her shell quickly shattered and her other senses returned in full brutal force. She couldn’t hold back an audible cry as the pain from her half-healed wounds seemed to lance through every nerve her body contained all at once.
For the second time, she broke.
Five more times, they had stopped at an inn. Twelve more sessions of inconceivable torture. And that wasn’t even counting the bandits who had demanded a toll to pass, those three days ago. She had been the payment…for all fifty-three of them.
She had tried to remain strong for her master, to show him she was not weak, but after every instance, her body shook a little more, her heart quailed a little harder, her breath grew a little more hag
Aithne lowered herself to hands and knees and looked up at her master. He nodded, opened the door, and entered. She crawled after him, the bell clanging with each shuffle of her knees. The gems pinned to her nipples and the tip of her cunt buzzed softly and she couldn’t stop a moan as a low shudder passed through her body. Of all the accoutrements the stranger in Solitude had sold to her master, they were her least favorite.
Not that it mattered – she wore them for her master, not fo
“I don’t understand.” Her master looked around the room with a disgusted expression. “This is Solitude. The capital of this stupid little province. Look at all the people here!” He swept an arm, taking in the large and very busy inn. “I was sure we’d make a killing. This is your fault. Look more enticing.”
Aithne nodded, though she had been doing her best for the better part of three hours, and stretched her naked body, then started to dance as gracefully as she could.
Aithne was woken by a touch on her shoulder. She blinked and looked up to see her master standing over her. A warm feeling ran through her body and she smiled at him, the first genuine smile she could remember. He looked momentarily startled – or she might have imagined it – but then his visage shifted to his usual gruff stoicism and he motioned and she pushed herself to wobbly feet.
He watched with an expression that told her that he carried the same concern she was feeling. She wil
She was awoken by a roar that filled the air and made the ground vibrate. She gasped as pain lanced through her arms and shoulders. She struggled to put weight back on her legs, though they had their own share of complaints.
The roar sounded again as the first tingling of feeling began to sweep over her limbs, and she twisted her head in every direction she could manage even as the refugees began to drag themselves from their tents. Soon the area was filling with muttering and cries
The sun had dipped partway into the distant horizon like a satisfied man in a bath when they arrived at what appeared to be a mine, except there were a number of ragged tents staked out around it. HE inquired and discovered it to be a makeshift refugee camp.
“Just our luck,” HE muttered as they she set up their own small camp on the outskirts, somewhat away from the refugees. “I had hoped to make some money tonight but these cowards don’t have a septim to split between them. Finish s
It was the warmest, most comfortable bed in the world, fit for kings or emperors. Delicious heat stroked her skin, cocooned her in its embrace like a mother’s womb, and she smiled and snuggled deeper into…
HIS voice cut through the warmth like a shard of ice and her body fought to comply without hesitation. For some reason, it would not move as quickly as…
A sharp smack on her thigh, and she cried out as she struggled wit