Previously, on the Gourmet of Smut:
What adventures await our smutty hero and his trusty companions? Find out in this next exciting installment of the Gourmet of Smut!
(Just an aside here - if you want, you can view this in a much nicer layout on my new website)
At long last, Calcelmo, the legendary Dwarven scholar and his eager apprentice, Alanis, had reached the inner sanctum.
"I'm convinced the treasure is just through this gate," said Calcelmo. "But how to get through?"
"Perhaps if we push these levers in precisely the right order, the gate will open," suggested Alanis.
"That's it, Alanis! It's working!"
"There it is," Alanis said in awe. "The treasure of Vagizbalft!"
"We must tread carefully. There may be traps."
"Oh, Calcelmo, you worry too much."
"Watch out!" shouted Calcelmo.
Alanis shrieked in surprise as a curiously shaped spike suddenly shot up from the floor.
"Ow! Hey, not the ass!"
"Run, Calcelmo, run!"
"Gosh, we almost died!"
"Yes, but now we are safe. And look, we have finally made it to the treasure. You should have the honour, Alanis."
"By the gods, it's more beautiful than I could have imagined."
"But not as beautiful as you."
"Why, Calcelmo, I had no idea you felt this way."
"And I know you feel it too. Let's not wait any longer, Alanis. I want to make love to you right now."
"Grrr, we need make up. Where has that woman got to? Kristin!"
"You're moving your head too much," said Alanis.
"Yeah I know, I'm sorry," Stenvar replied. "I just get so deep into character sometimes, I forget where I am."
"You know, I'm still not convinced about this whole Dwarven angle," I said. "Until now, it's all been about sex, and now we're delving into dungeons looking for treasure?"
"It's not just about dungeons and treasure, Nelfim," Alanis replied. "It's about a young woman falling in love with a man who inspires her yearning for knowledge and discovery. I find that so incredibly sexy, don't you?"
"I thought the pussy-shaped treasure was a nice touch," said Stenvar.
"Thanks. It's metaphorical."
"The longer format calls for a more de'ailed narra'ive structure to draw the audience in," explained Ambarys. "That ways, it's more sa'isfying when it gets to the jackin' off bit."
"Blast, Kirstin, are you napping again? Stenvar's wig has fallen off. I need you to fix it right now!"
"Yes, right away, Miss Ramara."
"I've been looking for you. Got something I'm supposed to..."
"... by the Eight!"
"Yes, yes, naked people. Do you have a letter or not?"
"Right, yes, sorry. It's from Thongvor Silver-Blood. He a friend of yours?"
"Darling, everyone wants to be my friend. That doesn't mean they are."
"Nelfim, it seems we're invited to Markarth. Thongvor Silver-Blood's son is turning eighteen and he would like us to attend the party."
"Hmm, interesting," I said. "Should we accept? I've heard some unsavoury things about the Silver-Bloods."
"Yes, but they're rich and influential," Ramara replied. "Which is what we're trying to be."
"Yes. We are."
"Right, positions everyone. Alanis, be a darling and give Stenvar a warm-up, will you? Kirstin isn't the only one who's prone to nodding off."
Life had changed quite dramatically for us after our ascension to Skyrim's upper class.
Finally driven out by the angry Nords of Windhelm, Ramara and I had settled on a nice estate outside Whiterun, with plenty of room for our ever-more extravagant erotic productions.
Revyn and Ambarys were both running the business now, and under their direction, it was booming.
They had recruited a small army of talented artists who would faithfully reproduce my works, turning them into what Ambarys had elegantly termed "jizz books."
One could now find them in general goods stores and privies all across Tamriel.
I was still growing accustomed to our new status, but Ramara was quite at home.
"Isobel, darling, will you bring the carriage round?"
"Right away, my thane."
"Ramara, is it possible I might come with you to Markarth?" Alanis asked. "You know I'm absolutely fascinated by the Dwemer. I've read all of Calcelmo's books. The real Calcelmo, I mean."
"Why, of course, Alanis," said Ramara. "The letter specifically mentioned you."
"It did?" said Alanis, surprised. "I mean, I'm flattered. I just didn't think anyone knew who I was."
"Teenage boys know quite well who you are, darling, trust me."
"Stenvar, will you accompany us? I hear the Reach can be dangerous. We could use a bodyguard."
"Sure, but aren't your housecarls supposed to protect you?"
"Yeah, we're mostly ornamental," Kasper clarified. "I mean, I have a sword, but I'm a little scared of it, to be honest."
Our bags packed, we set off for Markarth.
"Will we have time to explore when we get there?" Alanis asked. "I've read so much about the ruins, I can't wait to see them."
"Your little Dawrven hobby is cute, Alanis, but we're pornographers, not archeologists."
"It's not a hobby," Alanis pouted.
Suddenly, an arrow hit the cart with a thud, narrowly missing Ramara.
"Move!" shouted Stenvar.
Our carriage horse bolted as arrows flew around us.
There was a sudden jolt beneath the carriage, and we began to tip. The last thing I remembered was the ground rushing towards us...