This blog entry contains adult situations and language. Some of these situations are of a non-consentual nature. Please don't click the spoiler button below if you think that this might offend you.
She stood shivering for a moment on the all-too-solid stones of the dock, her head still swimming from the waves she had endured all morning. The winds continued unabated, buffeting and streaming in no constant direction. Her eyes fixed on the battlement above, each merlon capped with a white glossy shell of ice over the black stone like a row of decaying teeth.
Nyova's boots crunched the mixture of ice and salt as she walked the length of the dock to where the fired brick cobblestones of Windhelm began. The dockyard itself was little more than a flat ledge at the base of the outer wall, wide enough for cargo to be unloaded and sorted, fish to be gutted and shipwrights to stage their repairs. The sailors and dockworkers scattered about all seemed intent on finishing their tasks without distraction, which she was thankful for. Right now what mattered most to her was shelter from this cold. The snow was thickening with every step she took.
She was absolutely freezing. Her cloak was damp from the sea spray, and what humidity her body had given off during the trip was trapped in her clothes. For at least the last hour of her trip, her toes and fingers had been burning, but that sensation was starting to fade, and she was worried. Her uncle had lost all of the toes on his right foot when he stepped in a puddle of water while hunting horkers in the ice fields. He had to cut his boot off because if had frozen completely to his foot. He didn't even realize that his toes had frozen that bad. He laughed about it, but the sight of his nubbed, toeless foot always disturbed her, and the idea that that kind of horror could just happen and you not even realize was unnerving.
A Winterhold guard walked past her, his arms unbelievably bare of armor or fur. The faded blue sash tucked under his belt and draped over his shoulder looked like it provided little warmth, and wasn't worn to provide any. Just seeing his skin, from wrist to bicep on both arms mad her feel even colder. Nodded politely, she continued.
She rounded the corner and started to climb the steps, towards the imposing gate that led into the city proper. She stopped as she realized that a small line had formed leading through the gates. Each visitor was being interviewed by the town guard. There were about ten people waiting to be interviewed; too long to wait in this cold.
Nyova's eyes swept over the dock in search for a sheltered fire or an alcove, and settled on a door marked "STOREHOUSE". Without thinking her next steps through, she hurried back down the steps and over to the thick, iron banded door and tested the handle. To her delight, it turned and warm air flooded out. She hurried inside and closed the door snug behind her with a whud.
Looking around, the small room was vacant, save for crates and boxes stacked rafter high in the middle of the room, ringed by a narrow walkway and then more crates slid agains the walls. A row of barrels lined one of the walls near the door, and the room smelled like old wine, dust and musky hides. A pair of braziers burned on either side of the room, the metal basins full of longember, commonly enchanted coals that would burn for months or years before going out. How long these had left was irrelevant, only that they were hot. She practically bound over to the nearest one. Nyova outstretched her thin fingers and cooed as the heat began to sink into her skin. When her fingers warmed, she pulled the wool hood of her cloak down, and worked deliberately to free the simple claw and loop fastener at her throat. The wet wool slipped over her shoulders and pooled at her feet.
Nyova stood about 5 and a half feet tall, slender around the middle but ample above and below her beltline. Fair of skin, she wore a bun of deep magenta hair, crescent bangs framing her face. Her eyes were pale blue, which gave her the undeserved mien of an empty head. She wore a pair of faded yellow cotton breeches, and blue knit shirt. Around her waist was a colorful red and green and white braided cloth rope with frayed ends that dangled down almost to her knees.
Squatting, she tugged nervously at the leather strips that held her shoes on, eventually pulling them off - thankfully not to the sight of her poor toes encased in ice, but alarmingly bluish nonetheless. Sitting on her cloak, she rubbed her toes until she felt the sparkling needles of feeling returning to them. The room was silent except for her sighs; a mix of relief and discomfort.
...until the door suddenly opened.
A bundled figure stepped inside quickly, whudding the door closed quick as if something was pursuing him. A wave of cold air crawled along the floor, reminding Nyova's skin of the chill outside - sensations that did not penetrate the storm of terror raging in her mind. At this moment, she was now acutely aware that she was trespassing in a foreign country during a time of war. There was no time to hide, no excuse she could make, no good will she could hope to engender with this stranger. Without any semblance of a plan, she simply sat and watched the man stomp his wet boots at the door and pull his thick fur cloak off of his shoulders, snow falling off in chunks. His long blonde hair and broad shoulders betrayed him as a Nord even before she could see his blue eyes. He hung his heavy cloak by the door and then paused, looking at the ground for a moment before turning towards her, a hand on the dagger at his belt.
She sat motionless on the floor in front of the brazier. Her heart was in her throat.
"HEY! What are you doing here?!" he barked, his eyes ferocious.
"Forgive me. Forgive me, please... the cold. I have just arrived by boat, and... and I needed someplace to warm myself.", she said, her voice pitched high and pleading. Instinctively, she pushed her accent, some part of her hoping that being a foreigner would make some slight difference.
"You warm yourself at an inn, not here!", then after a pause "What did you take?" he snarled accusingly, stepping around the room, looking. His hand gripped the handle of his dagger tightly.
"Nothing! Nothing, I swear!" she said as her face turned to follow him as he tested the lock on a chest tucked against the back wall.
He strode over to her, pushing her to the side and looking around her. The shirt and breeches she wore had no pockets, and as he stepped on her cloak here and there he could feel nothing hidden. He snatched up her bundle and squeezed it in his hands.
"Please, I'm so sorry. I'll go if you want me to but I just wanted to get warm."
"Go? I should have the guard come and throw you in the stocks for breaking in here."
"I didn't break in, the door was unlocked, I just needed to warm up a little. My feet were freezing. I'm sorry, I didn't take-"
"Enough!" He snorted, dropping her bundle. His eyes scanned the shadows for more surprises, but there were none. His expression softened into a look of aggravation. He turned his attention back to the shivering waif at his feet. "Do you have coin to pay for this heat and shelter?" he asked.
She had 20 septim. Enough to get her a meal or two and a night in a warm bed. After that, she had nothing. Her mind played out the scenario where he took the very small pouch of coin she had and kicked her back out into the cold anyway. She decided to lie.
"No, the last of it went to the boatman who brought me here. I came to Winterhold to look for work." the Nord frowned, looking down at the floor, thinking this through. The brazier sputtered and clicked as the coals settled.
"You think this is cold, huh?" he asked, a wry smile on his face.
"...yes, very." she meekly replied.
He looked her over again, his eyes lingering on her longer than she was comfortable with. Her eyes tried to find something to look at, to pretend that he wasn't molesting her with his gaze.
After nearly a minute, he said "Your clothes are damp. Wet clothes will kill you if you don't have Nord blood... Take them off."
Nyova blinked and stared and blinked again. Something in her brain staunchly refused to accept the situation she was in.
"OFF." he snapped. The force of his voice moved her without the consent of her will. Before she realized, she stood and tried to move behind the stack of crates, but the Nord made a quick, stern sound of disapproval. Her heart hammering in her chest as she came back to stand in full view of the man. Her hands worked to untie the braided belt. He watched her closely, sitting down on one of the lower crates. The belt came loose and she reluctantly let her cotton breeches slide over her pert, bare backside, down her pale legs and around her ankles. Her legs rippled with goosebumps in the open air.
The Nord grunted approvingly. "That's good. Now the top." The Nord rested one of his large hands on his crotch, and rubbed himself lightly through worn deer hide breeches.
Nyova thought about protest, thought about what she could say, what she could do, but everything she could imagine ended with her bloodied, in prison or both. She swallowed and gripped the base of her shirt. The fabric brushed over her full, soft breasts and their hard nipples until they came free from their confines, swaying slightly. The Nord's sky blue eyes fixed on her tits, his tongue wetting his lips as both hands untied the crosshatch of leather strips over the crotch. Soon his hand was inside and pulling out a long, thick snake of a cock that nearly made her eyes pop.
It was the biggest cock she had ever seen. Pale and as thick as her wrist, capped with a smooth, swollen cockhead ringed with a pink rib. Already she could see veins standing out along his length. He dug deeper and pulled out a pair of huge, hairy balls. Something in her stirred despite her apprehension. Something in her wanted that cock inside of her, even though she doubted it could possibly fit. Her pussy wet.
She froze, the Nord's eyes still locked on her breasts as he gripped his cock and stroked it.
"Down. Earn your keep, woman." he said, pointing at the ground in front of him.
Without any protest, she found herself sinking down onto her knees. Hoping that all he wanted was to use her breasts, she pushed them together in front of his jerking dick. He grunted, slapping his cockmeat on her tits, little drops of precum dribbling down his shaft and smearing on her chest. She fought the urge to touch herself, fought the urge to touch him or taste him or surrender to this. She didn't know this man's name, but she had to struggle to keep from begging for his cum. An hour into her new life and she was on her knees in a dark room letting a stranger bounce his huge dick on her tits. She felt whorish, and her clit throbbed between her legs.
The Nord pushed his swollen dick between her tits, dry except for his precum.
"Spit on it" he said quietly. She looked down to see his cockhead pointed up towards her face, the head slick and the large hole on the tip open as he thrust up towards her chin. She collected some saliva and spit between her breasts. His cock began to glide between her breasts, and now his hands rested on her shoulders as he relaxed and seemed to expect her to do all the work. Nyova resigned herself to getting him off quickly and getting away as soon as she could. She pumped her breasts down around his cock, spitting now and again to keep the friction even and what she hoped would be pleasurable.
It took some doing, but eventually he was tensing, giving that look all the men she had been with up to this point had given sooner or later. He was holding back, trying to make it last as long as he could. She was watching his face, her soaked pussy pleading to be touched, to be rubbed, to be penetrated by this thick Nord dick. The man gripped the edge of the crate and moaned, it wouldn't be long now, he was close. Those hairy Nord balls were about to dump cum all over her.
She watched his face closely as she pumped her tits down again and again, rubbing her body up against his balls as she worked his shaft.
"Yes... yes... NNGGGhhh!!" he grunted loudly. His balls twitched and flexed against her belly as he shot a long rope of thick, sticky white jizz up her sternum, neck and underside of her chin. Reflexively she lowered her head and wrapped her lips around the tip of the spurting dick as it shot again, warm, salty and bitter all at once in her mouth. She closed her eyes and could feel the length of his shaft flexing, spurt after spurt. The man thrust his hips, pushing his cock an inch or so past her lips into her cum filled mouth and continued to shoot a few more times before slumping back down. As his cock slid out of her mouth, she realized just how much of his seed filled her mouth. Her first thought was to spit, but then his eyes were on her, expectant.
She looked at him sheepishly and then swallowed. His cum slid down her throat.
"Get dressed and get the hell out of my storehouse. If I find you here again, this is going up your ass."
"Yes, sir", she said. The man chuckled at the honorary 'sir' and stood up, his cock dangling in front of Nyova's face briefly before being tucked back into his breeches.
Wordlessly, the man went to the door, pulled his cloak over his shoulders and stepped back out into the frigid winds of Skyrim.
Nyova stayed knelt on the floor, feeling the stranger's sperm cool on her skin.