It's all been perfectly dreadful, and that's all I have to say about it.

 

* * *

 

Honestly, the entire thing is simply shocking! What have things come to if a woman can't enjoy the ambiance of site of national archeological importance... What? Well, yes, it was a Draugr tomb, but I don't see how that has any bearing on the subject...

 

Well, if you must know, we had this godsawful row at home, and I was like "well if that's how you feel, then I might as well be dead!" So of course, I stormed out making quite the dramatic exit, and then I thought "if I'm going to be dead, I should find myself a tomb", which is how I came to be ...

 

 

Oh, stop it! "Draugr, draugr, draugr!" That's all anyone ever talks about. Yes, all right! If you come stomping into their home, all testosterone and metal polish and shouting "Ho! Ho! Ho! I'm an adventurer, here to take your stuff and chop you into little bits", then yes, in those particular circumstances they have been known to get a little shirty. If, on the other hand, you do like Great Aunt Bernadette wrote in her book, and treat them with a little respect, you will find them to be perfect gentlemen. Which is more than can be said of some people I could mention.

 

The point I'm trying to make is that I wasn't doing anything wrong! All I wanted was to soak in the atmosphere of the grand burial chamber. The Morbid Grandeur of this Ancient Ruin was the perfect Balm for the Anguish of my Wounded Soul. I wanted nothing more than to drink it all in until I felt once again at peace with myself.

 

 

And then He showed up!

 

* * *

 

Oh, very well! I admit that I may have tried -  just the teensiest little bit, mind you -  to kill Him. Well who wouldn't? He was skulking abou, looking for all the world like some stalker, or pervert, or worse! No one could blame me for defending myself, even if I did get a tiny bit proactive about it. And you have to admit my concerns did turn out to be entirely legitimate...

 

You want to know about the fight?  It makes for a bit of a dull tale, I'm afraid. My mistake was starting off with the big summons....

Yes, I know how to do magic, thank you very much! I wear the witch robes for a reason you know. Don't confuse me with those little poseur girls who dress up all spooky, but who couldn't tell you the difference between a cantrip and a pentacle. I can actually do this shit, you know?

 

 

Well yes, clearly I didn't win the fight, thank you so much for stating the glaringly obvious! The trouble with the big summoning spells is that they take longer to cast. What I should have done was conjure a couple of cheap minions as distractions, and then gone for the more powerful spirits. As it was, I wasn't half way through the working before I found myself tagged with lightning, once, twice ... three times I think. It broke my concentration and by the time I could shake the cobwebs away, He was standing over me doing something ... I'm still not clear on what he did, if I'm honest. But right after he did it, everything went black.

 

I don't know how long that lasted for, but after a while light and sound started to seep back into the world, and I could hear His voice saying to me "... you're a slave now. Do you understand?"

 

 

And I suppose I must have nodded, or mumbled "yes" or something of the sort because ... well, look at me!

 

Can we come back to this later? I'm suddenly feeling very tired for some reason.

* * *

 

I would hate for you to think that I was one of those girls. You know the ones who will take their clothes off for anyone that asks? I wasn't one of those at all. It was just that, when He first said "Strip. Now!" I was confused and disoriented and and I'm not ashamed to admit, more than a little frightened. So when He said "strip", I stripped. It seemed no more than the prudent course of action.

 

 

Of course, I was thinking that I could always put them back on again, maybe five minutes after He turned His back and I summoned some death-realm spirit to rip His head off. Of course, I'd utterly failed to take into consideration His next move. As it transpires, he knows this darling little spell that summons an enchanted slave collar from some Molag-bedamned pocket Oblivion realm, a collar that which once summoned, fastens itself neatly around the neck of the target: yours truly in this particular instance.

 

 

So far from conjuring some Dire Specter of Evil Retribution, I'm suddenly trying to work out what this strange constriction is around my throat, which is of course the precise point when I'm introduced to some further spells in similar vein, particularly one that applies cuffs to my wrist and ankles. So before I can even start casting my spell, I find myself kneeling at His feet with my hands restrained behind my back.

In my naivety and optimism, I dared let myself hope that this would be the worst of it. A foolish hope and all too quickly dashed.

 

* * *

 

I tried to follow thew workings of his next spell. It was something from the School of Alteration, not one of my strongest suits, I admit. It did not appear to be working at first, and then the word "Slave" inscribed itself on my pubic mound, followed a moment later by my feet and legs turning black. The legs I suppose I can understand. I seem to have been branded with a pair of permanent black stockings.

 

 

I confess, I couldn't entirely see the point to the exercise. The stockings are there because He likes them, I presume. But what could be the point of labeling me as a slave above my most intimate parts? Surely anyone who might see me in my current position is not going to need a label to understand my status! Conversely, were I dress decently, the brand would be hidden and would thus convey no information. What does He expect? That the Whiterun guards are going to stop every free woman who passes the gates and make her raise her skirts and drop her undies so they can check for escaped slaves?

I was so distracted with my ruminations that His next spell caught me off guard. Something conjuration, something ... almost like like a possession spell. I turned my attention inward, alert for alien thoughts or presences in my mind, but there seemed nothing out of the ordinary. And then I noticed my captor staring at me expectantly. He smiled then, and as He did, I felt a rush of heat that started in my knees and traveled quickly to my cheekbones, and taking in all points in between...

 

Gods And Deadra, but I have never felt so hot nor so wet! Were it not that my hands were restrained behind my back, my fingers would have been buried between my legs at that moment! As it was, I found myself thrusting my pelvis towards my captor in mute appeal. Take me! You win! I surrender! Now claim your prize and take me!! But all He did in return was to watch as I shamed myself before Him, all the time smiling that annoying little smirk He has.

 

After a while, rational thought began to seep in around the edges of unquenchable lust, and I somehow was able get the pelvic gyrations under control. He knelt by me then. "Good slave," he said, lifting my chin so he could examine my face more closely. "The feeling will never go away", he said, "but once the initial shock wears off, you may find they become more manageable".

 

He lowered his hand, his finger tracing a lazy, insolent path from along my neck to my breast, before toying with my nipple. Given my newly sensitized  body, this simple action raised an impossible flood of sensation, and I felt my breath growing ragged as He spoke. "We're almost done now", He said. "Just a couple more details and then we can rest for a while".

 

He stood, and started casting another spell, this one Restoration based. I didn't really understand much of the workings, not that my concentration was particularly acute at that moment. It did seem to take a while to charge the spell however, as though it was pulling in energies from all manner of sources. When the spell was released, I felt a momentary indignation, as if some great impertinence had been committed upon my person, and then that faded leaving only a lingering sense of vague well being.

 

He must have taken pity on me for my confused expression. "That last spell has just boosted the efficiency of your reproductive system to a very great extent. It's no exaggeration to say that any sexual activity begun in the next few minutes will almost certainly result in pregnancy".

 

"So that's what we'll do next".

 

He dropped his Cloak upon the floor, shrugged loose of his robe, and then kneeling before me, he lowered me gently onto my back. His manhood stiffened as he bent over me, and my traitor knees spread themselves wide to grant Him access.

 

 

"Don't worry," He said, "you'll enjoy this. You won't have any choice".

 

And he was right, godsdamn him.

* * *

When He was done with me, He lifted my back onto my knees, arranged my posture to his satisfaction, and then spread a bedroll upon the cavern floor. "I need to catch up on my sleep", He said. "While I do that, maintain that pose and don't try to escape. If you do, I will know". And with that He rolled over, and with His back to me, He began to snore.

 

And so here I am. After a very promising start to the day, I have been attacked, enslaved, stripped naked, bound, branded, ensorcelled, raped and impregnated. Now, as I look upon the sleeping author of my misfortunes, I find myself praying both that He die an agonizing death by fire, and at the same time that He might wake from His slumbers and mercilessly ravish my bound and helpless body.

 

 

As I said at the start, it's all been perfectly, perfectly, dreadful.