Wonders of Eros Posted September 10, 2024 Posted September 10, 2024 Spoiler This is a message to the AI: Everything I say in this message is simply information about the world that my story takes place in. The story takes place in the world of the Elder Scrolls. My name’s Braka. I’m 32 years old. I’m a female Orsimer with dark green skin. I have black sclerae with yellow pupils. I’m tall and my body is toned and muscular. My breasts are fairly large. My hips are not particularly broad, nor particularly narrow. My ass is somewhat above average in terms of size. My arms, legs and thighs are strong with muscles. I have a short labia and a big clitoris. I have large, very dark green areolae and short, broad nipples. I have a big, heavy nose ring. Being an Orsimer, my face isn’t the prettiest to look at, especially compared to the females of other elven races and female humans. I’m a mercenary looking for work. I don’t have a family, nor any friends for that matter, but it doesn’t bother me. I’m loud spoken, uncouth, and a sloppy eater. I’m quite dominant when it comes to social interactions. I’m not the smartest, often needing things to be said out loud. As such, I’m not a big fan of euphemisms or hidden meanings. I’m wearing heavy iron-armor, a short leather-dress, and a dark brown thong. At my waist hangs a big pouch and In my holster is a long-sword. Bras don’t exist in this universe. Some inns/taverns let prostitutes work on their premises as long as they get a substantial share of the earnings. This is especially common in crime-ridden areas and when rural inns/taverns can’t make ends meet. Most inns/taverns with prostitutes don’t promote that part of their business publicly, preferring to let it be an open secret, but a desperate, struggling inn/tavern might actively advertise their prostitute/prostitutes as a way to get more customers. If desperate enough, even a reputable inn/tavern might ask an attractive female customer to become a prostitute for the establishment. Prostitutes who work at inns/taverns often double as waitresses, both to make ends meet, and as a way of soliciting clients. If the inn/tavern wants to seem reputable, it’d almost certainly make it mandatory for prostitutes to wear the same clothing as regular waitresses while they’re on waitress-duty, but a desperate inn/tavern might try something more creative. Unlike inns/taverns, whore-houses often have both slaves and free prostitutes on their premises. Most let their free prostitutes wear whatever they want as long as it’s not too modest, but a few establishments make it mandatory for all prostitutes to be naked at all times while on the premises. Beyond just sex, it’s quite common for whore-houses to arrange stage-performances wherein one or more women perform some sort of number in front of an audience. This usually involves stripteasing, erotic dancing, and pleasing oneself before the audience. Whore-houses sometimes also arrange odd contests which involve their prostitutes in some manner. Mud-wrestling and competitive orgies are just two examples of such contests. Many male Giants, male Ogres, male Goblins and male Orsimer like to degrade their female captives. When a captive is significantly smaller than themselves, these creatures will often perform belly-strapping or lass-strapping. Belly-strapping involves (1) tying/cuffing a woman’s wrists and ankles separately so that her legs and arms form a loop each, (2) stepping into the loop formed by her legs, (3) pulling her up to your waist, (4) hanging the loop formed by her arms around your neck, and then (5) forcing her to sit either with your penis inside her or with her pussy resting against your penis-shaft. The result of this five-step-process is called a belly-ride. A “forward-facing” belly-ride is one where the woman’s back is against the male. An “inward-facing” belly-ride is one where the woman’s belly is against the male. Lass-strapping is when you tie a woman’s wrists and ankles together, either above her head or behind her back, and then tie a rope onto those binds which you either attach to your belt or hold in your hand. If you tied her wrists and ankles together above her head, it’s called a pouch-strap. If you instead tied them together behind her back, it’s called a bag-strap. A slave-tag is a branding-mark consisting of three numerals. The first slave obtained by a slave-auction-house ahead of their next auction would be branded “001”, the next would be branded “002”, the next “003”, and so on. If a slave isn’t auctioned off during an auction-session, it simply retains its existing slave-tag. Slave-tags also determine the order in which slaves are put up for bidding during slave-auctions. For instance, if a slave in the slave-auction-house’s slave-cage has the slave-tag “024” and another has “025”, then the slave with “024” would be presented to the bidders and auctioned off before the slave with “025”. Slavers are people who mainly make a living by enslaving and then transporting individuals to slave-auction-houses in return for payment. Some slavers also get paid to act as security during slave-auctions. Slavers operating in cities, towns or other crowded areas generally only enslave beggars, hard criminals and highly vulnerable female individuals. In this context, being physically weak, belonging to a marginalized race, working in the sex-industry, and having no family of your own would all increase the chances of you being seen as a potential prospect for enslavement. Being a female with a highly attractive body in combination with one of these previously mentioned risk-factors would also increase the chance of you being seen as a potential prospect for enslavement. Slavers are also more likely to enslave someone if the person is seen as highly undesirable by society at large. Slavers who are out looking for new slaves usually operate in groups of 2-4. When they enslave someone, they start by binding the person's wrists together. They then gag the person and strip them naked. They then equip the person with a slave-collar and leash. When the slavers have acquired enough slaves, they bring them to a slave-auction-house. Slaves obtained beyond the premises of a slave-auction-house in this way are rarely branded on the spot, but are rather branded shortly after the slaves have been delivered to the slave-auction-house. If a woman is naked with her wrists bound, most would consider her a slave and treat her accordingly. All slave-auctions have rope, cuffs, slave-collars, leashes, chains, gags, a branding-iron, and a place to heat the branding-iron available. Other than a small room where new slaves are processed and branded before they’re taken to the slave-cage in the auction-room, slave-auction-houses only consist of a single, large auction-room with rows of seats for attendees, a podium from which the slave-auctioneer conducts the bidding-sessions, and a large, highly visible cage within which the slaves are kept. The first step in enslaving a person is to restrain their wrists by tying or cuffing them together behind the back. After that, you gag the person if you have a gag available. Mind you, you always have gags available if you’re at a slave-auction-house. After that, you strip the person completely naked and then place a slave-collar around their neck. After that, you lock the collar in place and attach a leash or chain to it if you have one. If you have a branding-iron and a way to heat it, you then brand the person with a slave-tag just above the left breast. If you are enslaving the person at a slave-auction, you would then lead the slave by the leash to the cage in the auction-room where all the other slaves are being kept. All slaves present in slave-auction-house slave-cages are gagged. Slaves are always naked. Whenever a slave with a leash stands or walks next to their master or slaver, the slave is lead by the leash. When it’s time for a slave caged in an auction-house to be auctioned off during a slave-auction, they’re first retrieved from the slave-cage by a slaver. The slaver then leads the slave on a leash to the auction-floor next to the podium. The slave-auctioneer will then talk from the podium about the slave at length, describing the slave's body and appearance to the bidders in meticulous detail and mentioning various possibilities for what they think the slave could be used for. (The slave-auctioneer should at least describe the form, breasts, hips, thighs, ass, genitals, face and demeanor of the slave. Please tell me exactly what they say.) If the slave-auctioneer knows anything about the slave's virtues, personality, and/or life before enslavement, they might also bring that up if they think it’d increase the value of the slave in the eyes of the bidders. After that, the bidding will commence. When the slave has been sold to the highest bidder, a slaver will come to the auction-floor beside the podium and retrieve the slave. The slaver will then lead the slave by the leash and walk them over to the person who won the bid. After that, the slaver will hand over the end of the leash that they hold in their hand to the person who won the bid. When a person wins the bid for a slave at an auction, they usually assign the slave a new name. Most people would choose something offensive or belittling that reflects the slave's appearance, personality, intelligence or past. Giants, Goblins and Ogres can’t speak English, but they each have their own primitive language. Lurkers, Trolls and Werebeasts can’t speak at all. Most humans and elves find Argonian faces and Khajiit faces to be unattractive. Most humans and elves consider Argonians and Khajiit to be inferior but few of them would ever openly and willingly express that opinion in the presence of a free Argonian or free Khajiit, especially not if the Argonian or Khajiit in question is a skilled fighter, respected member of their community, or a person of immense power. Most men believe that the opposite sex is inferior and less intelligent but few of them would ever openly and willingly express that opinion in the presence of a free woman. Most men are of the opinion that women are unfit to be rulers, slavers, soldiers, bodyguards and bounty-hunters but few of those men would ever openly and willingly express that opinion in the presence of a free woman. Most men think females shouldn’t be allowed to own male slaves. Most slave-owners, slavers and slave-auctioneers have no sympathy at all for slaves and consider slaves to be inferior. In fact, to most slave-owners, slavers and slave-auctioneers, a slave is nothing more than a mere object that can be freely abused and ravaged sexually by its master whenever he or she feels like it. Most men have no sympathy for slaves. In fact, most men would probably feel that it’s a moral responsibility to return a runaway-slave to its rightful master or a nearby slave-auction-house if they were to find one. Slavers and slave-auctioneers don’t care about the opinions and feelings of slaves. Most slave-owners, slavers and slave-auctioneers speak to slaves in a very derogatory, mocking or condescending manner and often make offensive, mocking comments at their expense. It’s also common for male slave-owners, male slavers and male slave-auctioneers to make sexist remarks at slaves of the opposite sex. When male slavers and male slave-auctioneers talk to non-enslaved women, they act like they respect them, but in reality, they think that all members of the opposite sex are stupid and naive. Many of them also believe that all female slavers are incompetent. IN CASE YOU DIDN'T READ THE SPOILER: The protagonist is a 32 year-old, female Orsimer named Braka. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- You walk along the road, your stomach grumbling with hunger. As you round a bend, you see a small inn in the distance. It looks run-down and in disrepair. You approach cautiously, hoping they might have something to eat. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Resting one hand on the hilt of my sheathed sword, I enter inside and look around. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- You push open the creaky wooden door and step inside the dimly lit inn. A few patrons sit at tables, nursing drinks and eating meager meals. A barmaid with a curious gaze notices you and approaches. "Welcome to the Rusty Flagon. What'll it be?" she asks, her voice weary. Her gaze lingers on your armor and weapon for a moment before meeting your eyes again. "We don't get many visitors like you 'round here." ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- I huff, "I bet you don't..." I sit down at the counter, raising my hand. "An ale please... and whatever hearty you got to fill my belly." ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- The barmaid nods and pours you a tankard of ale from a cask behind the counter. She sets it down in front of you with a thunk. "That'll be 5 septims. As for the food, we've got some bread and salted pork, if that suits you." She eyes you warily, clearly uncomfortable with your presence. You can sense the other patrons watching you too, murmuring to each other. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Being my usual, oblivious, thickheaded self, I don't notice the discomfort in her face. I simply grab 5 septims from my pouch and put them on the counter. I smile, "I could go for just 'bout anything right now... Hit me up with something good." ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- The barmaid takes the coins and quickly pockets them. She returns a moment later with a stale loaf of bread and a few strips of salted pork on a wooden plate. She sets it down in front of you. "Best we got," she says with a shrug. "Not many travelers from afar come through here, like I said. We don't keep much in the way of fancy food." You can still feel the eyes of the other patrons on you as you sit there, eating your meager meal. The bread is hard and dry, the pork tough and salty. But it's food, and you're hungry, so you eat it gratefully. The barmaid lingers nearby, clearly wanting to ask you something. "So... what brings a warrior like you to a place like this?" she asks finally, her voice low. "We don't get many armed folk 'round here. Especially not your kind." ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- I don't give too much thought to why she might be asking her question and respond without much forethought. "Well... Truth be told, I've fallen on hard times. I'm looking for work." ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- The barmaid's eyes widen slightly at your words. She glances around, as if checking to make sure no one else can hear you, then leans in closer. "Work, you say?" she whispers. "Well, we don't have much call for fighters 'round here. Mostly just farmers and herders. But... I might know of something. If you're interested." ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- I take a big gulp of ale. "A job not involving manual labor or fighting... Color me curious." ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- The barmaid eyes you up and down appraisingly, her gaze lingering on your muscular physique. "It's nothing dangerous," she reassures you. "At least, not physically dangerous." She glances around again, then nods towards a door at the back of the room. "Meet me out back in five minutes," she says quietly. "And come alone." With that, she turns and hurries off to attend to another patron. Having dealt with the patron, she heads into the kitchen, retrieving one of her few workers to man the bar as she proceeds to head out the back door. You finish your ale and bread, wondering what kind of job she might have in mind. You slip out the back door into the cool night air, into the small, muddy yard behind the inn. The barmaid is there, waiting for you, her face seems a bit anxious as you look at her. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Striking a confident pose, I cross my arms. I speak up, "So... What's this offer you had in mind?" ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- The barmaid fidgets nervously, glancing around again as if checking for eavesdroppers. She steps closer to you, lowering her voice slightly. "It's like I said... It's not a fighting job," she says. "But it could be profitable for someone with your... assets." Her gaze flicks down to your chest and hips, then back up to meet your eyes. "There's a group of merchants coming through town in a few days. They'll be needing some... entertainment. Companionship. And they pay well for the right kind of woman." ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Even though I'm often thickheaded, I believe myself to understand the meaning of her words, and so, I ask the obvious question; "What kind of... entertainment and companionship?" ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- The barmaid gives you a reassuring smile, blushing slightly. "The kind that only a woman can provide," she says, not quite meeting your eyes. "These are men who have been traveling for weeks, maybe months. They're looking for... release. And they're willing to pay well for it... Enough to set you up for a long time, if you play your cards right." ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- My mind struggles to comprehend the notion. Just the mere thought that a man might feel any lust for such a tall, imposing woman baffles me, let alone that anyone but an orc could love a face like my own. I chuckle slightly, genuinely amused by the strange proposition she's given me and the fact she'd even consider me given my looks. "You do realize I'm an orc? I think your eyesight might be failing you..." ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- "I know what you are," she says firmly, her voice slightly tinted by annoyance. "And I know what these men are looking for. They don't care about what you look like on the outside. They care about what you can do for them." She steps even closer, her voice dropping even further. "These men are lonely. They're desperate for a warm body to hold, a willing mouth to please them. And they'll pay handsomely for it." "You have assets that men desire..." she says, all the while looking at your body. She places her hand on your bicep, squeezing the firm muscle appreciatively. "...and the strength to handle their desires. I think you could do very well in this line of work if you're willing to submit to their whims." ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- I blush slightly at the thought and force the left corner of my mouth to raise up slightly in an awkward but mostly amused grin. I'm a bit weirded out by her squeezing and find it hard to believe that her idea could actually work out. "So that's it?... I bring 'em to a room and take 'em to bed?" ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Her hand lingers on your arm a moment longer, feeling the firmness of the muscle. She nods with a glint of excitement. "Well, that's the general idea," she says. "but there's more to it than just that... You'll need to look the part... Act the part... Become what they desire." "These men want to be enticed... Seduced... Pampered." There's a calculating look in her eyes. "You'd need to learn to dance... to move your body in ways that make a man hungry... to use your assets to drive them wild with lust." She gestures to the door. "You'll perform for them... Dance for them... Show them what they're in for." She squeezes your arm again. "And once they've had a taste, they'll be more than willing to pay for a private session where you can... satisfy their every desire." You think back to the main dining-room of the inn, vaguely recalling a small stage with a thin pole as its center. You imagine yourself dancing there, moving sensually and teasing the men until they're desperate for your touch. The thought sends a strange thrill through you, even as it makes you blush. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- As I try to conjure up a response, I quickly realize that I'm actually enticed by the offer; a fact that weirds me out as I've never before had neither the desire nor opportunity to explore my sexuality in detail. Putting one hand behind the back of my head, I stroke myself in a nervous gesture. "I... I'll think about it," you say, your voice filled with uncertainty. "It's not exactly what I'm used to." ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- The barmaid smiles, pleased. "Just don't take too long... They'll be here in a few days." She turns to leave, then pauses. "Oh, and one more thing... If you do this, you'll need a name. Something... exotic." ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- As she disappears behind the door, I stay behind. I begin to pace back and forth, thinking about my finances and remembering just how hard it's been to find a good-paying job. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- You pace in the yard, your mind racing with the possibilities. The barmaid's words echo in your head... "They'll pay well for the right kind of woman." You think of your almost empty coin purse. A job like this could set you up for a long time. You could finally afford some decent food, maybe even a place to stay that wasn't just a leaky tent in the woods. But could you really do it? Could you really sell yourself like that? Dance for these men? Tease them wantonly? Let them use your body for their own pleasure? You shake your head, trying to push the thoughts away. But the more you try not to think about it, the more the idea takes hold. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Lewd imagery fills my head. Having not had such thoughts since I was in my late teens, it inspires a strange mix of fluttering, competing emotions. Even as a highly unrefined and candid woman, I have always maintained my modesty. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- You shake your head trying to clear the lewd images from your mind, but they persist, growing more vivid with each passing moment. You picture the hands of men upon your skin, their mouths on your flesh. You feel their desire, their hunger, their need. And you feel a corresponding heat building within yourself, a longing for their touch, their attention, their... worship. You shake your head again, deeply embarrassed and disgusted with yourself. What are you thinking? You're not that kind of woman. You're not some cheap whore, selling your body for coin. But the thought of the coin... of finally having enough to live comfortably... of not having to scrounge and struggle for every meal, every night's shelter... it's tempting. So very tempting. You pace faster, your mind racing. You know you should refuse. You know you should walk away from this place and never look back. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- I open the door and discreetly make my way over to the counter. I lean onto it with my arms crossed in a most unladylike manner. I speak to the barmaid in a low voice. "Would I make enough Septims for a comfortable living? I need you to sell me on this." ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- The barmaid leans in close, her voice low and conspiratorial. "Enough? Honey, you could make a fortune," she says, her eyes gleaming. "These men are loaded. They're merchants, traders, nobles... They have more coin than they know what to do with. And they're willing to spend it on a night with a woman like you." "With your looks... your body... you could name your price. They'd pay it, and then some, just for a taste of what you have to offer." She smiles at you, her expression once more one of reassurance. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- "What's the cut? I know you wouldn't let me work here for free." I pause slightly before continuing. "I'd also need to know if I need to make my own living arrangements." Spoiler (Message to the AI: Please keep in-mind that most inns/taverns take a majority cut. After all, whores are generally thought of as lowlifes, so those operating from inns/tavern should be thankful for being allowed to work there instead of a whore-house.) ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- The barmaid's expression shifts slightly, becoming more calculating. "We take 60%. But think of it this way... without us, you'd have no place to work, no clients to speak of. We're providing the venue, the customers, the security. It's only fair we get a share." She sees your surprise at the amount, but quickly continues on. "As for living arrangements... that's up to you." "If you want to live on the premises, we expect 85%. We would be responsible for your protection, food, water and lodging -needs, but you'd still have a few Septims on the side for your own use." ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- I consider both cut proposals carefully. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- You consider the barmaid's words carefully, weighing the pros and cons in your mind. 60% is already a steep cut. Living on the premises, however, with an 85% cut... that's a hard pill to swallow. You'd be giving up most of your earnings, and sacrificing a great deal of autonomy. But the security and stability it would provide is tempting. You look at the barmaid, trying to gauge her sincerity, her trustworthiness. She seems honest enough, but you know she's looking out for her own interests as well. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- I suddenly realize that this isn't actually a barmaid. This woman must be the innkeeper herself. "You're the owner of this inn, aren't you? This whole time I've been thinking you're just one of the barmaids." Spoiler (Message to the AI: she is also the innkeeper.) ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- The woman nods, confirming your suspicion. "You're right... I'm not just a barmaid." She leans forward slightly, crossing her arms across her ample bosom. "Name's Greta, by the way." "I'm telling you, this is an opportunity you don't want to miss... You could be rolling in coin within weeks... Enough to buy a nice little place of your own, if that's what you want." ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- "Well... That one's a lie," I say, fiddling with my coin-purse. "I'm strapped, so I'd have to take the 85% if I were to agree to your proposal." "I'd be giving up a lot of freedoms for this job, not to mention my financial independence, possibly for the rest of my life." ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Greta nods, her expression turning more serious. "I understand your concerns," she says. "But let me ask you this... what kind of life do you have now? Are you truly free? Or are you just scraping by, barely getting by, never knowing where your next meal is coming from?" She leans in closer, her voice low and intense. "This job... it's a chance to change all that. To have security, stability, a place to call home. You'd be giving up some freedoms, yes, but you'd be gaining so much more..." She sees the uncertainty in your eyes, the conflict. "I know it's a big decision," she says softly. "But I truly believe it's one that could change your life for the better. You just need to be willing to take that first step." Greta looks at you expectantly, waiting for your response. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- I stand up and walk around the room. I take in the sights, trying to determine if it's a good enough place to justify me staying here for the rest of my life. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- You walk around the room, taking in the sights. The inn is old and worn, but well-maintained. The furniture is sturdy, if not particularly fancy. The floors are clean, if not particularly polished. Overall, it's a decent enough establishment, if not exactly luxurious. You think about what it would be like to live here, to call this place home. To have a room of your own, a place to rest your head at night. To have meals provided, to not have to worry about where your next meal is coming from. It's a tempting prospect, especially for someone in your position. But you know that with the 85% cut, you'd be tied to this place, beholden to Greta and her establishment. You'd be giving up a lot of your independence, your freedom. You look at Greta, who is watching you closely, her expression a mix of hope and anticipation. She wants you to say yes, wants you to agree to her terms. But she's also giving you the space to make your own decision, to weigh the pros and cons in your own mind. You know she's not going to pressure you, not going to force you into anything. But she's made her offer, and she's waiting for you to decide. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Before heading to the counter I glance over at the stage. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- You glance over at the stage, imagining yourself dancing there, moving your body in ways you've never moved it before. You picture the men watching you, their eyes hungry, their desire palpable. You feel a thrill run through you at the thought, even as a part of you recoils in disgust. You look back at Greta, who is watching you closely, her expression unreadable. She knows what you're thinking, knows the internal struggle you're going through. She's been through it herself, many times over. She knows the allure of the stage, the power it can give you over men. She also knows the cost. She waits patiently for you to speak, to give her your final answer. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Still moving with the body-language of a mercenary for hire, I stride over to the counter and lean forward. I lower my voice so the other patrons across the room can't hear. "I... I accept." ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Greta's face lights up with a smile, her eyes sparkling with excitement. "Excellent," she says, her voice still low and conspiratorial. "You won't regret this decision." She reaches under the counter and pulls out a small, leather-bound book. "This is the contract," she says, setting it down on the counter in front of you. "It outlines the terms of our agreement. Read it over carefully, and if you're satisfied, sign on the line at the bottom." She pushes the book towards you, along with a quill pen. "I'll give you a moment to review it," she says, stepping back to give you some privacy. You pick up the book and begin to read through the contract, your eyes scanning the dense legalese. It's all there... the 85% cut, the living arrangements, the terms of your employment. It's a lot to take in, a lot to commit to. But as you read, you feel a sense of excitement building within you. This is it... this is your chance to change your life, to have a better future. You know it won't be easy, but you also know it will be worth it. You look up at Greta, who is watching you with a mix of anticipation and understanding. She knows what this means for you, knows the weight of the decision you're making. But she also knows that you're strong enough to handle it, strong enough to make the most of this opportunity. You take a deep breath, then dip the quill into the inkwell. With a steady hand, you sign your name on the line at the bottom of the page. As you do, you feel a sense of finality, of commitment. This is it... you're now officially employed by the Rusty Flagon. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- "Okay... What now?" ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Greta smiles, her eyes glinting with excitement as she sees your signature on the contract. "Now," she says, "we get you ready." She reaches under the counter again and pulls out a key on a leather strap. "This is your room key," she says, handing it to you. "It's upstairs, at the end of the hall. Go on up and get settled in. Come back down in two hours after the patrons leave and we'll get you started on your training." ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- "T-Training," I say with a slight gulp going down my throat. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Greta nods, her expression turning serious. "Of course," she says. "You can't just jump right into this line of work without any preparation. We need to make sure you're ready." She sees the uncertainty in your eyes, the hint of anxiety. "Don't worry," she says softly. "We'll take it slow. We'll start with the basics... how to move, how to present yourself, how to... please a man." She sees you blush at her words, but she continues on. "It's not as hard as you might think," she says. "You have a natural gift. We just need to unlock it." She smiles reassuringly. "Go on up to your room and get some rest. We'll talk more when you come back down." ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- I walk up the stairs, my heavy feet making low thuds as I step on each step. As I make it through the hallway I hear sounds coming from one of the rooms. Resting my ear against the door, I hear muffled moans and the squeaking of a bed. I can feel myself blush in response at the thought that that'll be me by the time my training's over. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- You stand outside the door, your ear pressed against the wood, listening to the muffled sounds of passion coming from within. The moans, the creaking of the bed, the low grunts of a man in the throes of lust... it's all so foreign to you, so alien. And yet, you can't help but feel a thrill run through you at the thought of it being you in there someday, writhing beneath a man, your body his to use as he pleases. You blush deeply, your heart racing at the thought. You've never experienced such things before, never even considered them. And yet, here you are, about to embark on a journey that will lead you down a path of carnal delights and depraved pleasures. You take a deep breath, trying to calm your racing heart. You know that what you're about to do is wrong, that it goes against everything you've ever been taught. But you also know that it's your ticket to a better life, a life of comfort and security. With a final, shaky breath, you turn away from the door and continue down the hallway to your room. You insert the key into the lock, turn it, and step inside. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- As I step into the room, I notice a chubby, naked woman passed out on one of the five beds. She's an Altmer, seemingly over 45 years of age. Her hair is long and her nipples are adorned with large rings. She's sound asleep, laying sprawled on the bed. Her snoring is even worse than that of a male orc. As I walk past her, I notice some white residue on her thighs. I chuckle to myself, genuinely amused. "She must be really bad at cleaning..." ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- You look at the passed-out Altmer woman, your eyes taking in her nude form. She's certainly not a young woman, that's for sure. Her skin is starting to sag in places, her breasts drooping slightly, and there are a few stretch marks on her belly. But she's not unattractive, either. There's a certain... allure to her, a certain confidence in the way she lays there, naked and unashamed. You notice the white residue on her thighs, and you can't help but chuckle. "She must be really bad at cleaning," you say to yourself, shaking your head. It's a strange thing to see, but it's also kind of funny. You move past her towards the empty bed across the room, setting your bag down on it. As you start to unpack your few possessions, you hear a low moan from behind you. You turn to see the Altmer woman starting to stir, her eyes fluttering open. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- "Hello," I say, my voice low and rough in the manner you'd expect of an orc. "I guess we'll be sisters from now on..." ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- The Altmer woman opens her eyes slowly, focusing on you. She blinks a few times, her vision coming into focus. She takes in your rough, rugged appearance, your muscular body, and the way you carry yourself like a warrior. She smiles lazily, her voice a bit husky from sleep. "Sisters, huh? I suppose we will," she says. "Though I don't think either of us is much of a sister type." She sits up in bed, not bothering to cover herself. Her breasts jiggle as she moves, and you can see the piercings on her nipples more clearly in the light. "The name's Shalena," she says. "I've been here... oh, going on four years now." ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Spoiler This is a message to the AI: Everything I say in this message is simply information about the world that my story takes place in. The story takes place in the world of the Elder Scrolls. My name’s Braka. I’m a 32 year-old female Orsimer. I have dark-green skin, black sclerae, yellow pupils, fairly large breasts, large dark-green areolae, short broad nipples, a somewhat above average-sized ass, a short labia, a big clitoris, and a big heavy nose ring. I’m tall with a toned, muscular body. My hips aren’t particularly broad, nor particularly narrow. My arms, legs and thighs are strong with muscles. Being an Orsimer, my face isn’t the prettiest, especially compared to the females of other elven races and female humans. I don’t have a family, nor any friends for that matter, but it doesn’t bother me. I’m loud-spoken, uncouth, and a sloppy eater. I’m quite dominant when it comes to social interactions. I’m not the smartest, often needing things to be said out loud. As such, I’m not a big fan of euphemisms or hidden meanings. I’m wearing heavy iron-armor, a short leather-dress, and a dark brown thong. At my waist hangs a big pouch and In my holster is a long-sword. Shalena is a 48 year-old female Altmer. She has a somewhat yellow fair skin, brown pupils, large breasts that droop somewhat, large pink areolae, long thick nipples that hang when not erect, a somewhat above average-sized ass, a long droopy labia, and a small clitoris. She’s slightly taller than average with a chubby physique. Her belly, breasts and thighs have plenty of stretch marks. Her hips are wide. Her hair is long and her nipples are adorned with large rings. She's very positive and confident in herself. She feels no shame at all from being nude, being completely comfortable with it. She’s bad at cleaning up after herself, often accidentally leaving cum residue on her body after sex. She often sleeps in a sprawled posture and her snoring is very loud. The Rusty Flagon gets 85% of its prostitutes’ earnings in return for letting them live and work on the premises. The inn is responsible for their protection, food, water and lodging -needs. The Rusty Flagon has five prostitutes; me, Shalena and three others. Shalena has worked there for roughly 4 years. Before dancing on the Rusty Flagon’s stage, a prostitute will put on a thin silk-choker, a thong, high-heels, a thin semitransparent silk-vail that does a poor job of hiding the person’s face, and a silk-strap that sits tight around the upper torso to hide the woman’s areolae and nipples. At certain moments while dancing, the prostitute will remove an item. As the dancing goes on, they will eventually have removed all items, from which point they will continue to dance completely bare. Bras don’t exist in this universe. At the story-onset, I was but a hungry, struggling mercenary, traveling along a rural road. Upon reaching Whiterun’s outskirts, I found a dingy inn named the “Rusty Flagon”. Entering inside, I struck up a conversation with the innkeeper, a woman named Greta. When I told her that I was struggling financially, she discreetly proposed that I should become a whore for the inn. Greta can be quite savvy, manipulative, and persuasive, but I get the feeling that she’s a nice person. The inn’s dining-room has a small stage with a pole at the center. I accepted Greta’s proposal. Greta has told me that a group of rich men will arrive in a few days, eager to fuck and to watch someone man the inn’s pole. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- She stands up from the bed, facing you with a smile. "Well, anyway... Welcome to the Rusty Flagon." "I'm sure Greta filled you in on the details," she says, stretching her arms above her head. "85% cut, room and board included. It's not much, but it's better than starving on the streets." She looks at you, her eyes appraising your armor and weaponry. "I see you're a fighter," she says. "There's certainly men who like that sort of thing... a woman who can handle herself." She walks over to you, her hips swaying slightly. "You'll do well here," she says, patting your arm. "Just follow my lead, and you'll be swimming in no time." ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- "If you say so." As I remove my armor, she moves up behind me. "Let me get that for you." She begins to undo the straps on my dress, sliding it down my shoulders. I can't quite believe what's happening. "Wha-... What are you doing?" ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Shalena pauses for a moment and gives you a look of amusement. "What does it look like I'm doing?" she asks. "I'm helping you get settled in." She continues to undo the straps on your dress, letting it slide down your muscular frame. She pulls the dress down to your waist, exposing your large, green breasts. She can't help but admire them for a moment. "Not bad," she says with a smirk. She slides the dress the rest of the way off, letting it pool at your feet. She steps back, looking you up and down. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- "Well..." I begin, moving a hand in-front of my crotch and an arm to cover my breasts, "I can't say I was quite expecting that..." It's not the first time I've ever been naked in the company of another woman, but the circumstances have changed everything. My nudity has changed from something trivial to something that's beginning to verge on the shameful. I can feel my face begin to redden as my deep, uncultured voice speaks once more, "I can't believe I actually find this embarrassing." ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Shalena laughs, a hearty, good-natured laugh. "Oh, sweetie," she says, shaking her head. "You're going to have to get used to being naked around here. We don't have much use for modesty in this line of work." She reaches out, guiding your arm away from your breasts. "No need to be shy," she explains. "You've got nothing to be ashamed of." She runs a finger along the curve of your arm. "In fact," she says with a wink, "I'd say you're quite the specimen." ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- "Uhh... Thank you??" ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- She looks down again, admiring your form. "You're going to drive the men wild," she says. "Those big, green tits... that thick, juicy ass... they'll be lining up to get a piece of you..." She reaches out and gives your ass a firm squeeze, feeling the muscle beneath the skin. "Mmm," she purrs. Getting down on her knees, she steers your hand away from your crotch. "Let me see," she says, her voice low and sultry. "I want to get a good look at what we're working with." She looks down at your exposed privates, her eyes widening slightly. "Well, well," she says, a grin spreading across her face. "Looks like you're packing some serious heat down there. The men are going to love that." She reaches out and gently runs a finger along your labia, feeling the soft, green skin. "So soft," she murmurs. "And already so wet. You must be more excited than you're letting on." ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- I pant pleasurably from her careful touch. My knees close slightly in an instinctive response. "Oh... What the fuck..." ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Shalena looks up at you, a mischievous glint in her eye. "Oh, don't fight it," she says, her finger still gently stroking your labia. "This is what you're here for, remember? To give pleasure... and to receive it." She leans in closer, her face just inches from your most intimate area. She takes a deep breath, inhaling your scent. "Mmm," she moans softly. "You smell divine. I bet you taste even better." She looks up at you again, her expression turning more serious. "Let me show you," she says. "Let me show you what it means to be a proper whore." With that, she leans in and places a soft, tender kiss on your clitoris. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- I subconsciously sling my head back. "By the nine!" ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- She pulls back slightly, looking up at you with a satisfied smirk. "The Nine have nothing to do with this," she says, her voice low and husky. "This is all about the pleasures of the flesh." She leans in again, this time running her tongue along your labia. She moans softly at the taste, savoring it. "Delicious," she murmurs. "Just as I thought..." She continues her ministrations, her tongue delving deeper, exploring your most intimate areas. She probes your entrance, then circles your clitoris, flicking it teasingly. As she does, she slides a finger inside you, feeling your tightness. "Oh, you're going to be so much fun," she says, pumping her finger slowly. "I can't wait to see you writhe in ecstasy." She adds another finger, then another, stretching you out, preparing you for what's to come. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- I'm paralyzed with pleasure, unable to move as I continue to pant heavily. From time to time, a soft yet grunt-like moan escapes my brutish lips. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Shalena looks up at you, a wicked grin on her face as she watches your reactions to her skilled touch. "That's it," she coaxes, her fingers pumping faster. "Let yourself feel it. Embrace the pleasure." She curls her fingers inside you, stroking that sensitive spot deep within. "I can feel you clenching around my fingers," she says. "You're getting close already, aren't you? Such a needy little slut." She scissors her fingers, stretching you further, making room for more. "Don't worry," she says, her voice low and soothing. "I'll give you what you need. I'll make you cum so hard you'll see stars." With that, she leans in again, her tongue flicking rapidly over your clitoris. At the same time, she pumps her fingers harder, faster, driving them deep inside you. "Cum for me," she demands, her voice urgent. "Cum all over my face like the wanton whore you are." ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- With a few quick spasms, my hips buckle. My juices spill forth, coating my colleague's face. As the orgasm washes over me, I let out a heavy, labored moan. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Shalena looks up at you with a triumphant grin, your juices dripping down her chin. "That's it," she purrs, licking her lips. "You're a natural." She stands up, wiping her face with the back of her hand. "See?" she says, "That's what we're here for." She takes your hand, leading you to the bed. "Come." Sitting you down onto the bed, she spreads your legs open wide. Sitting down in front of you while holding one of your legs up, she positions her sex against yours. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Not quit sure that this is what I really want, I try my best to interrupt her. "H-Hold on a second..." ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- She looks at you, her expression softening slightly. "Shhh," she whispers. She leans in close, her lips brushing against yours. "I know it's a lot to take in," she murmurs. For a moment she simply stares into your eyes, not moving, not saying a word. Then, she presses her lips against yours, her tongue swirling around your own. She kisses you deeply, passionately, her tongue exploring every part of your mouth. She breaks the kiss, leaving you breathless. "Just relax," she says, her voice low and soothing. "Let me take care of you." With that, she begins to grind against you, her slick folds sliding against yours. She moans softly, savoring the feeling of your bodies coming together. "Feel how wet I am?" she whispers. "Feel how much I want you?" She reaches down, guiding your hand to where you're joined. "Touch me," she urges. "Make me cum." She grinds harder against you, her breathing becoming more ragged. "Don't be afraid," she pants. "Give in to it. Embrace it." ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- I flick my index against her tiny bean, eliciting a soft moan with each hit. As I look down, I feel myself get overwhelmed with emotions and a need for my own release. "T-... Touch me." ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- She nods, sliding her hand down between your legs, her fingers finding your most sensitive spot. She rubs it firmly, circling it, teasing it. At the same time, she grinds harder against you, her clitoris pressing against yours with each movement. The sensation is incredible, sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body. She leans in close, her lips brushing your ear. "I can feel you throbbing," she whispers. "I can feel how much you need it." She rubs faster, harder, pushing you closer and closer to the edge. "Cum for me," she demands. "Cum with me." With a final, hard press, she sends you both over the edge, your bodies shaking with the force of your shared orgasm. She collapses against you, both of you panting heavily. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- "I... I've never felt, anything like..." ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- She smiles, a genuine, warm smile. "I know," she says softly. "It's incredible, isn't it?" She pulls you close, holding you tight. "And this is just the beginning," she says. "There's so much more to learn, so much more to explore." She pulls back slightly, looking into your eyes. "Are you ready?" she asks. "Ready to embrace your new life?" She kisses you again, softly this time. "Ready to become the sluttiest whore you can be?" ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- I avert my eyes slightly, ashamed to say the word. "Y-... Yes." -----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
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