- Just a small warning, This is what is says in the title... a horror story. Not one of those passive aggressive ones where it is all about the build up... No, this is what I imagine the ultimate fate of a captive in Blackreach would be. You have been warned. -
Disclaimer (thanks to thebookdesigner.com ):
This is a work of (pure adult) fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious m
- The artist known as Janessa -
A chill wind follows you in as you stumble your way back into Breezehome. Your robes scorched around the edges from the dragon's fiery breath. A familiar face follows you inside and shuts the door behind her.
"You didn't tell me you were going to fight a dragon." she says. The tone of her voice barely masks her frustration.
"You would have followed me if I had. Your art is best practiced in the shadows my dear. I could not risk losing you in fight you are il
Alex seemed like a busy man. I had read on the forums that he'd only recently joined the group that was organizing the slave-market. So it didn't strike me as surprising that he was the one doing most of the running around. Eventually he had brought over two dozen slaves. Thirteen of whom I ended up sharing the holding pen with. On one trip, Alex had helped me put my armbinder back on. I was grateful for this as it raised my immersion a bit, but it also had a 'fun' side-effect. Standing with my
I thought it might be nice if I added an index of sorts, because I don't put any links in the blog posts themselves.
Thanks for reading and feel free to leave a comment.
Devious Skyrim Story:
This is a story that started as a playthrough, but has since been re-purposed. Following the adventures of Thermis while she journeys back home.
The picture I use for these stories represents my muses; Huginn and Muninn
Day 1 - The day my world reset
Guards are easily persuaded to look the other way. Irileth isn't a mere guard... Irileth is the House Carl of Dragonsreach Keep, the personal bodyguard and right hand of the Jarl. I don't know it it is her Dunmer origin, but she is the kind of woman that prefers introductions at swordarm's length... With a sword drawn... A very sharp sword... While she held her immaculate blade perfectly aligned with my throat she asked me who I was. Had it been anyone else I would have asked; "Don't you know wh
Forget the Daedra... They are not plotting against me as much as the divines themselves... Mara in particular these past few days... It started with 'Hello', as it always does. Adrianne Avenicci is a feisty Imperial woman. She is married to Ulfberth War-Bear and this is where I started to suspect Mara having a jab at recruiting me for her cause... As the Goddess of love, she is probably incensed with me for keeping Hadmir on a leash this long... Lady, I love him in my own w
I turn to the girls in the holding pen.
"Hi, I'm Numenor. Nice to meet you." I say with an inviting smile in the hopes a pleasant conversation to which Seventeen responds; "Hello Nume, I'm Dannika and this is..."
"Rachel" Twelves cuts in and points at me... "Cover yourself up! Do you really have to wave that around all the time?"
I give her a bemused look. "Cover myself how? I don't really have any choice in the matter, do I?"
She looks insulted and rushes over to me. Carefully avoiding my f
The 'hooves' under my boots clatter on the concrete flooring, announcing my presence well in advance. Alex leads me from the locker room into a large open hall. To the right are a few cages and holding pens and to the left are a couple of porta-cabins. A couple of strategic space heaters keep the hall at a decent temperature, good enough to be walking around naked comfortably. With a tug on the lead, Alex directs me to the porta-cabins.
"I'll drop you off at Dina's, she handles the new arriv
"Next!" the woman at the door says and beckons me to approach.
"Your invitation and name please." She says in a rather commanding tone.
"Here you go, Nume is the name you'll be checking for." She checks the list on her tablet.
"Lets see, this seems to be in order... Numenor... Ah yes, single, sub... Is this your first time here?" She asks.
"This is indeed my first time here, yes."
The woman swipes the list away and types something on her tablet.
"Right, go through the door, down the hal
Note: This story has absolutely nothing to do with the story, I just feel like writing today...
The room was furnished to an absolute minimum. A table with two chairs and light hanging from the ceiling. The incandescent bulb was worn and hardly produced enough light to read the paper in front of me. Seated opposite me was a man in a black suit with a blood red tie. From his breast-pocket he produced a pen and placed it next to the paper.
"Have you read and understood what this says?"
"Shoborz!" Mokudul shouted. "Shoborz! Open up this sorry excuse for a gate, you old slob!"
There seemed to be no answer for a while until half of the gate swung open another big Orc... Well, big compared to Finte...
"By Malacath's horns, Mokudul the Wanderer... I thought you were long dead."
"You are not Shoborz. Are you that runt of a son he had around last time I was here? Did ya finally kill the old man? Ha, such is the way it should be." Mokudul laughed and grabbed a flask from his belt.
I can't see what Hadmir likes about being a guard. The hours are hopeless, the days are long, the pay is alright, but the daily drag just seems horrid to me.
The moral seems to be, don't take an arrow to the knee, but all the guards I've met thus far haven't had a real arrow through the knee... Not like uncle Throm anyway... They'd be walking much, much less well and slightly funny...
Whiterun was a sight for sore eyes, I'll admit. People I had met in the past were sti
Starting tomorrow I'm going to have to take a break from writing for a bit, RL has run off with the keys to my time...
That was the downside. On the other hand; I found these: Linky Linky
I'm getting a pair for a date with my first Domme I would have loved to call Master.
On the other, other hand... I could use a new hat: Hats hats hats... I have a Cold War Soldier's Ushanka...
I'll be back to writing, maybe Thursday...
I think I'll be better off not telling people I am Dragonborn... Even though they are my kinsmen, all of the inhabitants of Ivarstead suddenly address as if I am some kind of deity... It honestly makes me feel like a sham...
The morning was eventful. Work had started on rebuilding the roof on the inn before I had awoken. A bit of breakfast and something awful they called brandy set the tone for the day. It all left a bitter taste in my mouth.
The dead guard's had be
Her name was Finte, though these days nobody knew or cared. You see, Finte was taken from her home one night. Slaves were a profitable business and Civil War made for some excellent 'opportunities'. Finte was one of the many victims of this senseless war. Out in the wilds, where few travelers dared to tread, she toiled for her captor.
Finte had nothing left. To even survive she was completely dependent on her master. Scraps, left-overs, ale and semen had been the only things for a long time
The man, inside
Finally the day had come. The man of her dreams had come and swept her of her feet. Fastred held on to him tight as he carried her back to Ivarstead. Her heart was still going like mad. She had always been interested in Klimmek, but he had seemed so distant. When he wasn't up the mountain, delivering food to the Greybeards, he spent most of his time fishing. It felt to her like he was avoiding her of late, but that feeling had completely gone.
There was a sickening
Do the patterns in the stars tell us who we are and do we really want to know?
The Greybeards gave me a book written by Jurgen Windcaller, their founder. It was a dictionary of sorts. Each page told a story three times. One in Deykel, written symbols, one in Pelnix, transcribed words, and one in Rotun, common translation. Reading the first story aloud caused a smile on Arngeir's, otherwise solemn, face. It turned out to be the story from the waystones.
With every st
Life continues. One thing that life on the road revolves around is gold and I have nearly none left. Thankfully people always have favors that need doing. Thus my morning was spent chopping wood for the locals. Boti, the woman that I had seen arguing with a man, her husband Jofthor, told me about how Ivarstead was becoming a bit of a backwater. She also told me of her daughter, Fastred. By Ysmir, what is it with all these damsels? Where are the men? Apparently there were men..
"Call me if you need anything, but try not to wake me unnecessarily. Good night, my sweet..."
I could feel her struggle against her bindings. I could feel the moment she reached orgasm. I felt her tire and fall asleep...
When she nodded off I quickly and quietly undid her bindings. The gag had fallen from her mouth already, but she hadn't made a sound afterwards. I left the plug neatly between her legs. She had been able to fall asleep with it... Tomorrow we'd go and have a little play with
To be blunt about it; Starting tomorrow, Real Life is about to drag me off for a few days. So no updates until Wednesday I think... I'll be allowed a few bites of internoms I think, so I will be around-ish...
For those of you who are wondering if I haven't got anything pre-written; No, I write scraps at best if I'm not sitting down specifically to write.
Truth be told, I'm interested to hear your opinions. I doubt I have more than a few folks following the misadventures of
Respect is everything. A Nord who does not know respect shall never know honor.
The day started late. I awoke with a sore body from head to toe. Maybe because for the first time in... However long... I had had a good night's rest and a belly full of food. It had been rough thus far, but I was among people again. Granted, I still thought it wise to hide the only visible remnant of my past predicament. After a good stretch I packed my bag. I had tried to travel light, but
Note before reading: This entry has literally nothing to do with my playthrough, but I felt like adding it in because raisins... I'm not experienced in writing these sort of things, but I do hope it is well received.
He never claimed to be a smart man. He was dutiful and proud, but smart didn't really run in the family. Then again, it wasn't expected of him. One does not approach a guard for learned conversation. They needed either the law or a strong arm. Hadmir held the guard post du
I believe in working hard to accomplish my goals, but lately I find it increasingly more obvious I may have offended some deity or maybe a demon from Oblivion. The world is set against me. Throwing ever increasingly bizarre events at me. Working at our farm didn't require much prayer, but even in times of need we'd dutifully keep our local shrine clean and stocked for travelers. Not a thankless task, but we never expected anything in return.
Today I made it to Kynesgrov