Jump to content

Aithne's story part 7 - The Well-Traveled Road



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 with renewed energy to move. All of her muscles protested and every movement was jarring agony, but she forced herself upward, gritting her teeth to keep from grunting out loud as she levered herself up, to her knees, arms raised, chest out, fingers laced behind her head.


The innkeeper’s voice spoke from behind HIM. “Don’t be too harsh on her. She took quite a pounding last night. I’m a little surprised she can move at all.”


She thought she should feel grateful for the woman’s words, but any such emotion was subsumed by the void. She fought to keep her body from shaking as she watched HIM and only HIM.


HE glanced behind HIMSELF for a moment, then turned back and peered at her. “She does look pretty rough. Perhaps that was too much for the first time.”


“The first time?” A laugh. “My dear orc, if you make her fuck fifty men a night, she won’t last a month. Probably not even a week.”


“Paugh! That is nothing compared to what I’ve seen orc women do.”


“That might be true, but she is not an orc. She’s…Redguard, by the look of her. A sturdy race, to be sure, but still only human.”


“Hmph.” HE looked at her with a speculative gaze. She held herself as still as her trembling body could manage. “Well, it’s not fifty every night. Just when we’re at an inn. She’ll be fine.”


“Suit yourself. It’s not my business what you do with your property. I have your food packed and ready.”


“Obliged.” HE tossed a bundle of white fur at her. “Put these on. We are leaving.”


She stood without a word, though her body ached with every move, and put on the boots, then wrapped the cloak around her battered body and waited with bowed head as HE finished HIS conversation with the innkeeper. Then turned to her, connected the chain lead to her collar, and started walking, and she forced her legs into motion to follow.


The cold wind as they stepped outdoors hit her like a slap. Her throat and cunt and ass felt raw and burned with every movement. Every breath brought the smell of her own stench - she reeked of stale cum and sweat, and her mouth tasted as if she had eaten shit.


Her steps faltered and she fell slowly further back step by step until she reached the furthest point of the lead. One step more and she stumbled forward as HE yanked. Pain flared through her body and she crashed to the ground. Her body felt on fire and she couldn’t have moved had she wanted to.


“Attention. Attention! Get up, you lazy whore!”


She felt HIS kicks to her sides as if from a distance but the pain they must have carried was subsumed by the ache that already filled her every pore. She felt darkness stretching toward her and reached for it with the relief of the damned. Take me away, she said, or thought she said. I no longer care if I reach the Far Shores. Take me to Oblivion or the Void or even Coldharbour – nothing can be worse than this.


She barely noticed when HE yanked her up by her hair, nor when HE threw her back down. She didn’t feel her head bounce off of the hard ground but she noticed the impact, which appeared as bright motes of light. When they had dissipated, the darkness seemed that much closer, just within reach. She stretched out her arms, longing for its embrace.


Cold liquid spilled down her throat and the world rushed back to her senses. She choked and coughed up driblets of a sticky sweet red substance. The cold snapped through her as the darkness receded and she found herself sitting bare-assed on the icy Skyrim ground.


“Finish the rest. Looks like she was right about you. Pitiful.”

She looked up at HIM, found HIM standing over her with a partially filled vial of red liquid in one hand. The darkness slid away over some distant horizon, taking the inner voice that yearned for its arms with it. Both were replaced by the renewed ache of life and with it, the obedience that she owed to the one that owned her. She reached out with a quavering arm and wrapped her fingers around the vial, brought it to her lips, and tipped the red liquid into her mouth.


Warmth blazed a trail down her throat and pain seemed to flee from it like rats from a fire. In moments, the fire had left and she was able to move without pain.


“That cost twenty-five gold.  You’re lucky I still need you.”


She bowed her head in supplication and simple gratitude for HIS sacrifice and HIS gift.


“Now keep up.”


HE began walking without another word and she scrambled to her feet as waves of deep shame ran through her. She had failed HIM, had cost HIM HIS hard-earned coin, all because of her weakness. Had she been able to produce tears, she would have wept, but her tears were lodged with the tiny voice in the furthest cranny of her mind, swept away and forgotten. Hours passed, marked almost solely by the sun’s movement across the sky and the sound of their footsteps. The occasional traveler past on whatever errands people had in this desolate land, but HE paid them no mind, so neither did she.


The road seemed endless, but time held no meaning so it mattered little. She paced behind HIM with her head up just enough to be able to see if HE stopped or turned, and she watched the road pass by one flat, uneven stone at a time. Every now and then they stopped to rest or HE would hand her some morsel of food or a drink of water. At least once a day, usually before they went to sleep, HE would have HIS way with her body which, of course, she offered willingly. It wasn’t really hers, after all – it belonged to HIM. She was merely the pilot, driving HIS slave where HE wanted it to go.


They stopped at two more small inns, which meant another two nights of a roomful of men having their way with her body. She didn’t mind that part – again, it was HIS body, really, not hers, so she was happy to share it – but she was the one who bore the pain during and after. HE never let it go as long as it had that first night, a fact that still filled her with shame. She had been too weak to do what HE had asked of her. It was only by HIS mercy that she was still alive after her failure. This knowledge spurred her on during those long tavern nights, and she did all she could to accommodate as many as possible, hoping to show HIM that she had changed, had grown stronger.


Then, one afternoon as they trekked along a road with their shadows leading the way, the sound of shouting and the clashing of metal in the trees to their right piqued HIS interest. He turned toward it, and she followed without hesitation.


In a small clearing in the trees, among the tattered remains of pitched tents, a battle raged. People in bright steel armor fought others in rugged leather. The cacophony was loud enough to make her cover her ears, but HIS face lit up.


“Stay here,” HE commanded and, without deigning to glance further in her direction, HE pulled out his giant sword and charged forward with a gleeful bellow.


HIS entry into the fray was a clear shock to all concerned parties but, when HIS first swing lopped off the head of the nearest leather-clad fighter, the steel group appeared bolstered and began cheering. That stopped as abruptly as it began when HIS next swing cut down one of the steel warriors.


From there, it was sheer chaos as HE went toe to toe with not one but both groups of fighters at the same time. HIS opponents quickly came to an unspoken understanding that the battle could only be won if they worked together, and they tried to do so. It didn’t matter – HE was simply too fast, too strong, too…HIM. For every cut HE received, three soldiers fell. The entire thing turned into a route in a matter of seconds, and he chortled and chased them down, one by one. She could hear their screams of fear mingle with HIS screams of delight. She shivered a little and sat, huddling with arms around her knees at the base of the tree until HE returned, bloody and battered and smiling with the biggest grin she had ever seen.


“Ah, I needed that. Let’s go. I wanted to try to reach the next city before nightfall.”


She nodded and stood, and moments later they were back on the endless road.

1 Comment

Recommended Comments

(copy of comments from previous incarnation of this chapter)


from @Tirloque and Malicia


Still as well written as usual. And here you took care of explaining how he would make her recuperate from the onslaught, and developed Borkul's fighting abilities. I'll try to catch up with the last entries.


Malicia : « That's still very bad, 'cause he looks very tough, uh.

                She should put this -> 000478726 into his soup, and then run very fast and very quickly
:classic_angel: »

Link to comment
  • Create New...