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The Pearl Diver's Tale


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Timea strolled along the seashore, bouncing gaily in the surf as she searched for the tell-tale signs of shellfish. Gulls scurrying about in the surf, or other birds diving into the shallow waters. Sometimes there were broken shells lying about, fresh ones with sharp edges. Birds eat the clams and oysters, but not the pearls inside. Pearls digest poorly.


Timea was a pearl-diver. Half of her life was spent underwater. The other half was spent walking the shore looking for likely spots to dive. Sometimes she was lucky and found two pearls in a single dive. She ate well then. Otherwise she sold what she found to the jewelers of the Market District and slept in the Poorhouse.


Being a pearl diver, she wore very little. She was a Nord of Skyrim, so the winter’s chill did not bother her as it did other peoples. Nords could bathe in snow and not be affected. That made her the premier pearl diver of the waterfront. She could enter the water and search where her competitors would catch their death of cold.


She wore her dark hair short, the better to keep out of her large blue eyes as she swam. Blue eyes were rumored to see better in the dark than brown eyes- another advantage the Nord had. She also had a massive chest- and not just the mammaries attached to it. Her ribcage was almost half again as large as her competitors- a side effect of having wide shoulders. Her long legs were powerful and shapely- and drove her swiftly through the water. Only her large breasts, which floated and therefore hindered her in reaching the depths easily, and the ragged loincloth covering her nether regions slowed her swimming.


Today Timea was away from the Shantytown outside the walls of the waterfront. Strangely, that area had the best pickings- the clams and oysters thrived in the river of shit exiting the area. Only by the Imperial City sewers to the north did she ever find better and more plentiful pearls. She guessed it was a reward from the gods for daring risk swimming between human feces. That logic led her here between the sewer exit and the Shantytown spoil, where she expected to find a hidden area the others missed.


She entered the water, a tepid liquid that would send her closest competitor Ida Ulnia screaming away with chattering teeth. Timea grinned at the thought. She held her breath and plunged in. The water was clear here, and she could see far. There were rocks below, and the salty tang of the water was more pronounced here, probably due to the urine of the sewers north of here. She knew that salty water had the best pearls.  She let her powerful legs drive her down to the lakebed rocks, where she collected a few oysters and clams before heading back to the surface.


She emerged from the water, carrying her spoils. She sat down heavily upon a log, wheezing. A school of four slaughterfishes had passed as she was rising. She froze, and let her impressive breasts and massive ribcage float her to the surface, instead of risking a movement which would bring the fish on her in a frenzy. She had been under for at least a minute before she broke the surface and dared to move swiftly. But now she was safe.


She picked out her dagger hilt from behind the log where she stashed it. It was once a fine weapon, but its blade had broken off years before. Its owner discarded the hilt, and Timea found it. Finders keepers, it was hers now. She found the broken blade rather effective at opening shellfish. She quickly had two pearls in her hand and was opening a third oyster when a movement startled her.


A man came from the bushes. Like her, he was dressed in rags. The only thing serviceable about his garb was that it covered his lower body and supported the weight of an empty scabbard at his narrow waist. The knife that usually occupied that scabbard was in his hand. He saw her wet and dripping from the lake, her own rags beside her, and grinned.


“It looks like today is my lucky day,” he said cruelly.


Timea dashed aside at his sudden lunge, but he was too quick. His rough hand clasped her shoulder and threw her to the ground. His knife was at her throat as his other hand held her flat.


Her struggles ceased abruptly as the cold steel touched her throat. She had been down this path before, and known others who had as well.  It will not end well, but it could end worse. Those who fought on with a knife at their throat usually ended with that knife slicing that throat. This man was one such who would not hesitate to slice- it shone in his eyes.  She was caught and he had the power. The light in her eyes died as she realized that.


He grinned again, and moved his hand from her shoulders to her ample bosom and ripped the rags holding her breasts. The fabric parted easily, rotten as it was, to reveal her large globes. His rough hand caressed one of them savagely, squeezing her soft flesh. Timea writhed in revulsion, but the steel pressed her to be still.


He whistled at her exposed breasts, continuing to enjoy feeling them. The chill of the water made her nipples hard, encouraging him. She moaned slightly as he brushed the nipples, and then again as he tugged playfully at first one, then the other.


Her eyes widened as his hand glided down her smooth belly to the loincloth covering her womanhood. He struggled briefly, but the fabric was no match for his sudden desire. The knots slid apart and he brushed the cloth aside to gaze at her dark triangular patch of wooly hair.


“Be good, and you might live through this,” he growled. “”


Timea felt a pang of fear and helplessness as the cold steel at her throat pressed in again to forestall any attempt at escape. His hands gripped her womanhood crudely, roughly, and when he savagely thrust a finger inside her, she nearly screamed in horror and agony.


He wiggled that finger, then thrust in a second. Her body bucked at his touched, sending a surge of pleasure through him as she fought to avoid his touch. He grinned at her feeble attempts to avoid the inevitable, and was pleased as her body involuntarily reacted to his touch. Her cunt grew wet as his fingers invaded her labia repeatedly, her body responding to what it soon expected. Her thrashing slowed.


He flipped open his breeches to reveal his manhood. His stick was fully engorged now, flush with the excitement and anticipation. She howled in panic and thrashed wickedly now, but he was too strong and the location too remote. He forced himself between her legs and drove his hardened cock savagely into her.


He missed the first thrust, his prick jamming painfully into her labia without finding the opening between them. His second attempt ended no better, but his third sank the head of his cock into her soft flesh. She moaned wistfully as he smiled in triumph and put his whole weight onto his hips. His penis shot inside her.


He grunted in satisfaction as her soft, warm womanflesh swallowed his hardness. Timea ceased struggling then, defeated for the moment. The man pulled out halfway, then thrust forward again. And again. She clenched in rebellion and bucked to eject him, but that only sat his cock deeper inside her. He groaned with the pleasure of his success, and rapidly thrust in and out. His eyes closed as he drilled his prick into the poor woman repeatedly, savoring her flesh accepting his at every penetration.


Timea had not given up, though the evil little man had succeeded in getting inside. She had struggled vainly, her legs moving weakly in a lost attempt to eject him, and her arms waving madly to avoid touching the man violating her.  The only thing that did not move was her neck and the deadly steel pressing against her skin there.


There was little she could do. She knew it.  Her fear of death was still strong. She had been raped before- she was not an ugly woman, and she lived in a rats nest of thieves and robbers. Usually she and they had been drinking and joking together before desires overrule decency. Those times had been more a bad case of mixed signals than a maliciously premeditated act of violence. This evil man had no drink clouding his mind, only a knife in his hand a desire to force her to do his will.


The only good thing about a rape was that it was usually over quickly. Rapists were interested in only two things- power, and their own pleasure. A lover would want his partner to cum as hard and as pleasurable as had he; a rapist could care less if the woman under him enjoyed it or not. He got his rocks off more on forcing her to do his will.


She could tell by the shortness of his strokes and his grunting that it was almost over. She would have laughed had the man not had a knife to her throat. He had been in her for less than twenty seconds now, and already she could feel his balls tightening as he prepared to shoot his seed into her. She doubted he would pull out to avoid pregnancy. Rapists never did. It was all about their pleasure, and driving in fully to deposit their seed as deep as possible was as immensely satisfying for a man as it was reviled by his victim.


His thrusts and her attempts at avoiding them had shifted their bodies toward the stump where she had been sitting. His eyes were closed as his moment approached, thus he never saw her hand brush the hilt of her fallen shucking knife and grasp it firmly.


His penis throbbed as his balls emptied in a deep thrust. The moment took him completely, draining him totally. He barely felt the broken blade of her shucking dagger plunge into his neck, concentrating as he was on the warm sensation surrounding his ejaculating penis. He gasped as she stabbed him again, then felt nothing as the broken blade sheared the great vein in his neck. His eyes rolled up into his head as his life force fled.


Timea kicked the dying man from her with a savage kick. He was already unconscious, and the flow of blood spurting from his neck growing much weaker by the heartbeat until it suddenly ceased.


Timea slithered away from the body, covering her breasts with her arms in shame. She quaked with rage and revulsion, then realized she had survived, and he had died. He would never rape another woman again. She made sure of that by taking his knife and cutting away the offending organ that had penetrated her. She threw that into the water, as far as she could. There was a slight plop as it landed, then a small explosion of bubbles as the slaughterfish tore into it.


She grinned then, viciously. Using his sharp dagger, she opened his belly and removed his heart. This too she threw to the fishes, but closer to the shore. His stomach and liver followed next, until she had lured the school of flesh-eating fish close in to the shore. It also lightened the load she would be carrying.


Her rapist was now a gutted carcass, his innards and private parts already having fed the fish. What was left was easy for a strong woman like her to lift over her head. A groan and a shout and she was moving forward, heaving the remains out into the water where the fish tore him to bits, disposing of him in a fitting manner.


She looked back where he had taken her so cruelly. His breeches were of much better quality than the loincloth she had, and his dagger a much better weapon. His shirt, discarded before he began his attack, fit her well. And she still had her pearls.


Timea left the beach without a second thought. She had no doubt others would try to do what he had done. Shantytown was full of men with desire, no means to fulfill that desire, but with the brawn to take what they wanted. Others would try.


She hated them, and hated what had happened to her. She hated that he had spilled his seed inside her, where it may or may not take root. She would not bear the brat of such a man. Maybe the elven witch woman living in the old church knew of some  herbs to prevent that.


She hefted the dagger in her hand. It felt good. She grinned cruelly. The selfish men of the Waterfront might try this again. She was armed now, with more than the shucking knife which had performed so effectively. The men will try, because she was pretty, a woman, and they had urges they could not control.


They will try, and they will end up like this one, she thought bitterly. She would never again let this happen to her. 

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In my own collection in a private esp, yes. But not on Nexus or anywhere else yet. Like I said, I got a bit tired of hearing about Casta's books but never finding any, so I decided to write some of my own. I made a Levelled List of them and added that to several booksellers, so they are able to be purchased in-game.


My character fancies himself a writer, too. He wrote some treatises on history, alchemy, and such. They too are in that list.


One of my characters girlfriends was persuaded to write a book about her horrible experiences during the siege of Kvatch, as a sort of therapy. Thus "The Night Kvatch DIed" is also available.


I used to have a lot of time on my hands.

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I might, one day. True, there are too few books in the game. That is why I tried to fill in the gap. Anyone can put words into sentences and from there into pixels and formats, but few are as talented as your spouse in creating believable, immersive tales that swallow a reader into this other world and weave from the phrases a fascinating tale.


I think I can write some good smut, though.   ;)


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