Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Sitting at the dark, candlelit table of a bustling tavern, Nadine Rielle finished her second bottle of mead. The noise of the inn surrounded her: fellow patrons revelling in merriment, a bard singing songs of victory and valour, pots and pans clattering in the kitchen. She picked idly at the label, steadying her nerves as she waited for her contact to arrive.

For as long as Nadine had been an adult, she had been travelling across Tamriel in search of new and exciting lands. She’d learned how to keep her blade sharp and readied from the stalwart warriors of Ancient Nord steel and the mysterious and deadly swordsmen of Hammerfell. She’d picked up tricks on how to melt into the shadows from a kindly old Shadowscale assassin, visited the College of Winterhold to hone her arcane skills, and stopped by the Bards College to gain an appreciation of the arts of poetry, music and storytelling. She’d also picked up tricks from a group of Khajiit rogues on how to pick locks and gain entry into places she shouldn’t, which is the particular set of skills that were being called on by the stranger she was about to meet - a man by the name of Brynjolf, known for being one of the higher ups within the Thieves Guild.

Working with rogues, breaking and entering...these were not areas of adventure she was especially familiar with, but the reward in question was too tantalising to pass up. The opportunity to see it in the flesh alone was enough.

“Good evening, lass. I’m guessing you’re Nadine.”

She looked up, taken aback by the soft-spoken accent - not loutish or rough as she had somewhat snobbishly suspected, but also not arrogant or smug either. It was somehow both masculine and gentle at the same time. She was even more surprised when she saw who the accent belonged to - a well-built, but not overly imposing Nord man, with gorgeous long, red hair and piercing green eyes. For a moment, she forgot about the point of their meeting completely, thinking only about how devastatingly handsome this man in front of her was.

“Uhh...yes, that’s me.” Then, after a pause slightly longer than it should have been, she responded, “Brynjolf?”

“That’s the one.” he grinned, taking her hand, “Pleasure to meet you.”

“Likewise,” Nadine replied, hoping she wasn’t blushing furiously.

“What’s your poison?”

Nadine looked at Brynjolf with an expression of puzzlement.

“Can I get you a drink?”

“Oh! Yes, of course,” she replied, making a mental note of the idiom. “Mead, please. Honningbrew if they’ve got any left.”

“Hmm, interesting choice.” Brynjolf raised an eyebrow, mouth curling into a cheeky smile.  “I’d have had you down as drinking fancy wines.”

“I’m fond of both. No sense limiting yourself to just one when you could drink deep of all life’s experiences,” Nadine said, feeling uncharacteristically bold. Then, feeling this previous statement may have been a bit too forward, she added hastily, “Plus, tonight felt like a mead sort of evening.”

Nadine felt the distance between the two close as he leant in to her, his breath hot against her skin as he spoke, voice soft as velvet. “Full of surprises already, aren’t you?”

As Brynjolf went to the bar, Nadine wondered if another drink was a brilliant idea or a terrible one. She was already feeling the last two going to her head. On one hand, it gave her some much needed courage. She would need that for the contract. On the other hand, it made her feel giddy, especially around this gorgeous, charming stranger. There was something about him that made her want to abandon all decency and lose herself in his hair, his eyes, his…

“Here you go, lass,” Brynjolf said as he sat the bottle of mead down on the table in front of Nadine, catching her off guard. “Now, let’s talk business.”

Nadine had struggled to maintain composure throughout the remainder of her and Brynjolf’s meeting. Between her inner monologue wheedling at her to pay attention, Nadine and her baser instincts making other suggestions, it was a challenge for her to focus on the details of the contract.

The object in question was an ancient tome, known as the Edged Lexicon in more esoteric circles of interest. Nobody knew its true name; the symbols sprawling across the cover of the book being something even the most learned of mages and scholars had been unable to discern or translate. It wasn’t a Daedric artifact as such, but had almost as much value as one. It was an original copy, and Brynjolf had contacts who could fetch a significant amount of coin for it. Before he did so, however, Nadine wished to pore over the contents herself, suspecting that it might be written in the Daedric alphabet. She knew that if she could find someone to help her translate it, she could gain the kind of knowledge most mages only dream of obtaining; her notes on the book alone would be worth a decent amount of coin, and reason enough to do it. All in all, a mutually beneficial agreement.

Nadine looked over the details of the job once more, making sure she hadn’t glossed over any vital information.

Seems easy enough, she thought, might as well strike while the iron’s hot.

Normally, she would have considered this sort of behaviour foolhardy. Tonight, feeling much more brazen in her haze of mead and desire, she let her impulsiveness override her usually cautious nature.  

She arrived at the location Brynjolf had marked on her map, furtively glancing round to check for any unexpected surprises - mercenaries, traps, skeevers - and was thankful to find none awaited her. Good. She climbed up the balcony stairs, picking the lock on the second storey door with relative ease. She needn’t have worried about this job. Honestly, she was surprised one of the members of the Thieves Guild hadn’t handled the breaking and entering part of the operation, but she was being paid for it, so she didn’t really care.

With bated breath, she crept further into the dwelling, passing shelves well stocked with wine bottles and wheels of cheese. Maybe she should take a few for the road?  

Stop it, you’re not actually a thief, Nadine chided herself internally. You’re here for the book, and that’s it. Behave yourself.

As she slowly paced the floorboards of the bedroom, she kicked herself for her somewhat relative morality, deciding that some bread and cheese would be bloody brilliant right now.

There it was. The display case, with the book very much inside. The lock on this case appeared to be similar to the Ancient Nordic locks she had come across on her tomb explorations, only this time it was emblazoned with Daedric symbols.

Ah. This is why they sent me.

Relishing the thought of a good puzzle, she got to work, cracking the code in minutes. She inhaled deeply, taking in the musty scent of an ancient tome - one of her favourite smells - before placing the book in her knapsack and getting ready to make her escape. Then, she heard something. A mercenary, perhaps? No, it sounded like… slapping. Wet, like horker flesh. She thought she could hear voices, from outside the bedroom door. Then, the sound of a woman… moaning?

She knew she should leave, but something inside her compelled her to open the door and see what was on the other side.

Barely breathing, and as stealthily as she could, she inched the door open, revealing a mezzanine balcony overlooking the house’s living area. Peering downwards, she could make out a hearth, long dining table, two large, luxurious armchairs, and what looked to be a leather bench. She couldn’t make out the figures of any people but could certainly hear them - now recognising the sounds as unmistakably carnal in nature.

Nadine knew now that she was definitely intruding; what was happening in the room below was something she wasn’t meant to witness, but something about the situation - the happenings of the evening, the charismatic, roguish redhead, the liquid courage she’d imbibed - encouraged her to delve further. She wanted to behave in ways she normally wouldn’t, in ways she knew she shouldn’t. Her whole body surged with an impulsive hunger, the heat and wetness between her legs growing. She wondered briefly if the book was filled with some sort of dark Daedric energy as she skulked further along the mezzanine, eager to get a look at what was happening below.

Gaining a suitable vantage point, she spotted a large, robust four poster bed near the back of the room, the sturdy hardwood posts snaking up to almost meet the balcony. On the bed, she saw three figures - a Redguard man, dark and striking, with a shaved head and full, thick beard, his body beautifully muscular and toned; a stunningly deep skinned Imperial woman, whom she was sure she recognised, with honey toned hair that currently draped down to her plump breasts, her figure curvaceous and feminine yet toned and strong; and an enormous figure of a Nord male, also seeming familiar to her, imposing and extremely muscular, dark haired, bearded and hirsute. As the Redguard was pistoning in and out of the Imperial woman’s opening, she was using her mouth to pleasure the Nord man - a feat in itself, Nadine marveled, as he was rather well endowed. Grabbing her honeyed locks, he thrust himself in and out of her, seemingly using her mouth as another hole, while the Redguard gripped her supple hips and buttocks and continued to pound into her roughly. Between the creaks of furniture and guttural grunting, she could make out slews of obscenities - slut, cunt, whore - that were met with unbridled enthusiasm from the Imperial woman as she moaned around the appendage that filled her mouth, the three bodies moving in unison.

Nadine had never seen such depravity. She had also never been so turned on in her life.

She bit her lip, revelling in the naughtiness of it all. She shouldn't be here...this was so, terribly wrong...

She willed herself to move, to leave, to run and never come back, but in keeping with the theme of the evening, lust won out. Loosening the laces on her tunic slightly, she allowed her hands to wander to her flushed, full breasts. She thought back to Brynjolf, imagining his piercing green eyes staring into her own, his red hair like autumn flaring out behind him as he undressed her; thought of his gentle soft lips tempered by stubble scratching as he kissed along her neck, sounds of the deviance below creeping up to meet her. Her breathing grew shallower, more ragged. Her head swam. She stretched out, attempting to readjust herself.

Creak.

Nadine froze as she heard the sound, noticing the people below hear it, too. Shit.

The Nord man was the first to react, his head turning in Nadine’s direction.

“Who’s there? Show yourself!”

Their eyes met, if only for a second. Panicked, Nadine cloaked herself and disappeared into the shadows, running as fast as she could from the scene of the crime.

By the time Ulfberth War-Bear reached the top of the balcony to investigate, she was long gone.

Nadine galloped for miles, unsure if she was running from someone following or just her own shame, eventually stopping at the most remote looking inn she could find. Caught peeking at someone's private business. Gods, she was going to have a reputation as the province pervert…

She still had to meet with Brynjolf to confirm she had obtained the book, which she was dreading. She wasn't sure how fast news spread, or even if it would… She decided she could worry about that in the morning, and at least attempt to get a good night’s sleep. She considered having a nightcap, but ultimately decided against it - drink was what got her into this mess in the first place. She washed off as much of the day’s grime as she could and settled into bed, trying to calm her jangling nerves. She couldn’t shake the myriad feelings tumbling around her head, nor could she shake the memory of the liaison she had witnessed. With her intense nervousness mingling with her shame and arousal, she eventually drifted off into a fitful sleep.

She awoke early the next morning with the sun beaming through her window, birds singing outside. If anything, she was even more restless than she had been the night before, and just as nervous. Adrenaline still coursed through her veins, and she was still plagued by the burning desire that lay between her legs. Throwing on her clothes, she set out with the same impulsivity she had shown the night before, deciding that if she was going to be under any fire from Brynjolf or the Thieves Guild for bungling the job, she might as well get it over with.

First things first, she thought, I should really have a proper wash.

She followed a nearby river upstream until she reached a waterfall, secluded enough to make a perfect bathing spot. Removing her clothes and folding them neatly, she sat them in a hollowed-out tree trunk, alongside her knapsack and boots. No stranger to bathing in semi-public places, the nature of her adventuresome spirit meant that she often had to improvise when it came to sleeping and bathing arrangements. Nadine had relied on whatever the land could provide and she enjoyed being at one with nature. She breathed in the clean countryside air, admiring its scents: fresh grass and rich earth, with hints of nearby lavender.

The sun kissed her naked skin as she waded into the pool, adjusting quickly to the feeling of the cool water against her feet and legs. When she reached the waterfall, she dove in headfirst, yelping out in shock at the cold and the impact. Her discomfort quickly turned to mirth, and she let out peals of sweet laughter, revelling in the feeling.

Normally she would have bathed as quickly as possible, eager to get on with the day’s escapades, but today she felt different. Yesterday’s dangerous, nervous energy still flowed through her, and she felt a thrill from being nude outdoors that she usually didn’t experience. She wanted to take her time a little, to savour the feelings she so often denied herself. Tilting her head back, she felt the water run through her dark, flowing hair, cascading down her shoulders as she combed through the locks with her fingers. The rivulets of water traced the rest of her body, as her hands followed - her gorgeous, plump breasts, skin soft and pale, beautifully complemented by rosy nipples, like ripe berries ready to be picked; her stomach with its little paunch (something Nadine had always smiled fondly at, finding it both adorable and a friendly reminder of her love of Breton cuisine), framed by her curvaceous hips and strong, well-toned thighs, evidence of her years of horse riding; her perfectly round, well-padded bottom and delicate mound, excitement collecting on the petals of her divine sex.

Hot and bothered but relatively clean, Nadine dried herself off as best she could and carefully got dressed, taking care not to look as if she’d just bathed in a waterfall. Granted, it was Skyrim during the Fourth Era, so she doubted it was an uncommon practice, but she didn’t want to have any cause to look unprofessional - at least, not any more unprofessional than she was already. Climbing atop her steed, she set off to the Bannered Mare in Whiterun, where she’d been ordered to rendezvous with Brynjolf when the job was complete.

When she arrived, the bustle of lunchtime was just beginning. Making her way through the kitchen and up the stairs, she knocked the door of the room Brynjolf had told her he would be in.

“Come in,” came his frosty response. She knew already that this couldn’t be good news.

“Good afternoon, Brynjolf. I managed to procure the book we were after.” Nadine had hoped this would somehow overshadow her other, rather major transgression. It didn’t.

“So I heard. Unfortunately, so did Adrianne Avenicci and Ulfberth War-Bear, the owners of the book. You didn’t exactly make a quiet escape, and now the two of them are at my throat because, while they don’t know who you are, they know that you’re associated with my outfit and that makes me culpable.”

Nadine gulped. “I’m sorry, Brynjolf. I didn’t mean for you to be the one responsible, I can go back and explain myself - ”

“That’s going to do little to take the heat off me, lass. Admirable in other circumstances, maybe, but it’s not going to wash here.” Brynjolf paused, giving her a strange look before he continued. “Now, while I was busy admiring the business end of Ulfberth’s battleaxe, I got the impression that perhaps you’d seen something you shouldn’t have. Is that correct?”

Nadine’s face flushed furiously as she nodded.

“Tell me what you saw.”

What?  This was not a contingency she had planned for at all. Mouth open and body burning with humiliation, she attempted to form the words.

“They… together, with a Redguard stranger… on a bed-”

“Blazes, lass, I thought Bretons were meant to be masters of Speechcraft. Tell me every single detail of what you saw.”

Nadine squirmed. Was she really going to be forced to relive the embarrassment of the previous night?

“I saw Adrianne and Ulfberth, with a Redguard man,” she said hesitantly, voice shaky and thin. “A stranger. They were all on the four poster bed in the living room.”

“Oh? So not in the bedroom where the book was, then?”

Bloody thief didn’t miss a trick.

“Er, no… once I’d retrieved the book, I heard noises, and wandered into the homestead further to investigate. That’s when I saw… when I saw them.”

A devious smile formed on Brynjolf’s lips. “Hmm, so this particular discovery wasn’t entirely accidental, then? Your curiosity got the better of you?”

Staring at the floor, Nadine nodded.

“Maybe you’re not quite the sweet, innocent maiden I took you for.” Brynjolf’s voice was tinged with a dark, seductive tone - as if willing Nadine to go on, to tell him her deepest, dirtiest truths. She was already starting to lose her head again despite herself, humiliation mingling with desire as he drew her deeper into their perilous game.

“I saw the three of them on the bed. Adrianne was in the middle - she was pleasuring her husband with her mouth while the Redguard stranger was thrusting into her, um, opening.”

“Oh, I think we can do better than that,” Brynjolf purred. “I would say ‘Ulfberth was fucking Adrianne’s mouth with his cock while the Redguard was fucking her cunt’.”

Nadine gasped slightly at the coarseness of the language, although she had to admit that it suited the tone of the actions much better.

“Try saying that instead, lass.”

She swallowed, cringing slightly. “Ulfberth fucked Adrianne’s mouth with his cock while the Redguard stranger fucked her cunt.”

“Much better. Sounds like you got quite the eyeful, eh?”

Once again, Nadine nodded, cheeks blazing.

“Bet you must’ve been pretty hot and bothered by that scene, eh lass?”

At this point, she was certain she was about to burst into flame at any moment. This question, above all others, was especially probing. Why should Brynjolf need to know this? She was shaken to her core. Suddenly, she had the jarring realisation that physically, absolutely nothing was forcing her to be here. The door was situated directly behind her, so escape wasn’t an issue. Brynjolf’s manner, while commanding, wasn’t menacing or sinister, and as her eyes travelled south and glanced at his ever-growing bulge she realised what was compelling her to stay.

Her eyes had lingered just a little too long, and Brynjolf had noticed. He shifted his hips forward, the outline of his cock now pressing obscenely against his tight leather trousers.

“Maybe you’d like to do more than just watch?”

Nadine didn’t know how to react. This was much more forward than anything else had been thus far, and she felt a bit out of her depth.

As if sensing her hesitation, Brynjolf’s demeanour softened slightly, his smile warm and inviting.

“You know as well as I do that you can leave anytime you like,” he crooned, voice honey-tipped and seductive. “But you and I also know that you’re a very naughty girl who likes to get a good eyeful and if you want to do this, you’re going to need to play by the rules of the game. Is that understood?”

A thrill jolted through her body, and the aching need that lay deep in her core grew ever stronger. She nodded enthusiastically, squeaking out something resembling acquiescence.

“Good lass. Now undress.”

He watched intently as she did so from his position at the foot of the bed, like a predator studying its prey.

She had never been nude in front of anyone before, and she was nervous, but she wanted to please him, to obey him. As she loosened laces with shaky, unsure hands, feeling Brynjolf’s eyes burning into her, she felt as if her heart were about to burst out of her chest. She let her dress fall off her body, the fabric softly dragging across her goosepimpled skin and stiff nipples. For every garment she removed, Brynjolf would offer up some small encouragement: a look telling her to continue, a moan of approval, or something moving within his own trousers. Before long, she was completely bare, a newfound brazenness running through her.

“Come here, lay across my lap.”

He explored her body with his deft fingers and hands: caressing the gentle curves of her calves and waist, kneading her soft, round bottom and fondling her breasts while he plucked at her hard, protruding nipples. Slowly but gradually, he worked his way to more and more intimate places, fingers travelling from calves to inner thighs to the warm, moist parting of her dripping cunt. Her initial gasp of surprise quickly gave way to low moans of pleasure as his finger explored the delicate folds of her labia, occasionally dipping into her tight channel, leaving only to toy with her engorged clit.

“Such a willing, wanton slut,” Brynjolf murmured, the sounds of his approval punctuated by the sounds of Nadine’s breathing, short and ragged as he toyed with her. “I think perhaps such a deviant minx deserves a spanking. What do you reckon?”

His fingers manipulated her aching cunt in the most sensitive of parts as his soft, seductive voice worked over her mind. She moaned out in intense pleasure, wanting this man to do whatever he pleased with her, to make her his .

“Ask me nicely, lass.”

She squirmed, his pet name making her melt. “Please give me a spanking, Brynjolf.”

“With pleasure.”

Bringing his hand across Nadine’s supple buttocks with conviction, he administered a few firm swats per cheek, varying the pressure and speed. He alternated between spanking and massaging, occasionally stopping to dip back into her cunt to see how wet his punishment was making her. The combination of punishment and reward was intoxicating and delicious, and Nadine’s enjoyment was painfully apparent. As she felt something hot and hard twitch and press against her, she realised that she wasn’t the only one enjoying it.

“That should do - hopefully you’ve learned your lesson, though I highly doubt it. Now you can get on your knees in front of me and help me get out of these.” Brynjolf gestured at his trousers.

With trembling fingers, Nadine quickly got to work on the various buckles and belts that comprised his armoured breeches, which were now straining considerably against his fully erect member. Finally, she released his lower half from his clothing, and proceeded to free his aching cock from his loincloth. She took a moment to admire it - the way it looked standing to attention, throbbing and proud, with a rivulet of precum glistening from the slit on the head; the way it felt in her hand, firm and resolute but with the tiniest amount of give, still undeniably flesh and blood, hot and thick and twitching with every impulse and move she made. She was shaken from her reverie when Brynjolf cupped her chin with his fingers and tilted her head up to face his, reminding her why she was there – and that if she’d like to stay, she’d best get busy.

She didn’t need to be asked twice, and advanced on his cock with vigorous fervour. She began by lapping at the droplet of precum she had spotted earlier with her tongue, light gentle licks at first, then longer laps from the head down to the base. She had always had a keen thirst for knowledge, consuming any new information she could find with a voracity that would astonish Hermaeus Mora, and jumped at the chance to learn new skills. This was no different, and every movement of her tongue, every manipulation of her fingers, everything her mouth, hands, body did and every sound, twitch, motion Brynjolf made in response was an opportunity to master a new art. She felt his hands tangle in her hair as he guided her to take him deeper into her mouth - struggling at first to accommodate so much of him, but spurred on by his grunts of approval and her own ability. It wasn’t long before they found a rhythm, the pace quickening until, unable to hold back any longer, Brynjolf came. Nadine tried to swallow all of his cum as it spurted out from his still engorged, pulsating cock. Some of it dribbled out onto her chin and breasts, but she managed to keep most of it.

Sweaty and spent, Brynjolf helped lift Nadine to her feet, settling her back onto his lap.

“Since you did such a good job, I think I should return the favour.”

With one hand wrapped around her waist and the other between her legs, he eased her thighs apart, running his fingers over the rivulets of wetness that now traced down her inner thighs - evidence of one very naughty girl indeed. After working his finger into the dewy hairs of her cunt and teasing for a short while, he withdrew, bringing it up to his mouth and sucking off her collected juices. Something about the way he did this - the raw, primal manner, like someone voraciously devouring succulent meat from bone - made her body shudder and heightened her own hunger. He returned his finger to her yearning cunt, where he toyed with her clit for a short while, pausing to run his finger up and down, feeling his skilled digit being enveloped by the silken folds of her quivering labia. He urged in deeper, until he felt her warm, wet opening accept his finger, and gently massaged in a “come hither” motion, slow and shallow at first, venturing in deeper and plunging in harder as he felt her breathing pick up and her moans intensify. She felt like her body was on fire - every nerve ending ablaze and pulsing. She was in a complete trance of lust unlike anything she had ever felt. Had she possessed the ability to achieve rational thought at that moment, she might have wondered if he had cast some sort of incantation on her, rendering her completely at his mercy. She couldn’t say she minded.

Suddenly, he pulled his finger out and flipped her on to the bed, resituating himself between her legs. This time, he slipped two fingers into her, and got to work with his tongue everywhere his fingers couldn’t manage. He worked her over with a primitive need, his fingers pumping into her skillfully as his mouth devoured her cunt. This proved to be too much for Nadine, and she cried out, body quivering as she was tipped over the edge into her first orgasm.

It was like the sweetest mead she’d ever tasted, or some new, amazing piece of divine arcane knowledge - a door opening in her soul as her body convulsed and spasmed, suspended somewhere between Aetherius and Nirn. Aftershocks wracked her as she came down, Brynjolf caressing her skin and gently stroking her hair.

“You okay, lass?” He smiled. “That seemed pretty intense.”

“It was.” Nadine beamed back. “I’ve never felt anything like that before.”

“Was that your first?” he asked, a note of genuine surprise in his voice.

Blushing, she sighed. “I’m afraid so. That’s a rather embarrassing admission for someone my age, isn’t it?”

There was a hint of hesitation in Brynjolf’s voice. “I wouldn’t say that, exactly - I guess I just find it odd that a girl with such a varied taste and wandering spirit would lack that particular piece of knowledge. Especially one so easy on the eye.”

Smiling at his charm, the flirtatiousness softening the blow, she continued. “It’s not that I haven’t been curious about it, I’ve just never really met anyone who’s piqued my interest - romantically, maybe, but I’m realising now not really sexually. And the only offers I generally tend to get are from drunken, leering bandits in dodgy taverns, or the kinds of men who look and smell like the spawn of a skeever.”

“Which one of those am I, then?” Brynjolf teased.

Nadine grinned. “The exception, obviously. Anyway...I could give you a thousand reasons as to why it’s never happened, but ultimately I suppose it comes down to the fact that I’ve been so focused on exploring everything else that I’ve overlooked this one very major thing.” She paused. “It just sort of...eluded me, I suppose.”

“Fair enough.” Brynjolf conceded, smiling - soft and sympathetic this time, like he’d solved a puzzle Nadine was still struggling on.

“So, I’m assuming you’re in a good mood? I hope so, because I have something to tell you that you may be less than thrilled to hear.”

Her heart sank. What next?

“I meant to tell you sooner, but obviously things got a bit...side-tracked. Turns out the book you procured from Ulfberth and Adrianne wasn’t the original that we were looking for, which means what you have in your possession is a very convincing, but not very valuable replica.”

“Ah.”

“Yep. So, that’s the bad news. The good news is they’re willing to part with the original, although they want us to go fetch something from Darkwater Crossing for their trouble.”

Nadine shrugged, her demeanour brightening. “Sounds doable.”

“They also want to speak to you in person when we get back with the goods.”

Just as soon as Nadine’s spirits had started to lift, they plummeted back down. Having to face the very people who caught her?

“I know it seems a daunting task, lass, but I think it’s worth doing. Just imagine the coin we could both make from this book - the knowledge you could gain! You can’t put a price on that.”

“That’s if Ulfberth and Adrianne don’t kill me first,” Nadine muttered.

“Don’t worry about those two. Their bark is worse than their bite. Just go in, make your apologies, sweet talk them a bit if you have to. I’m sure you’re more than capable of that, lass.” He winked cheekily at Nadine, making her heart skip a beat. Charming bloody bastard. “And if all else fails, an offer of cold hard septims usually does the trick.” He pulled a small leather satchel from his pocket, coins jangling. “I’m happy to put my money where my mouth is if you are.”

Hurriedly dressing herself, Nadine’s internal voice reassured her that she was doing this for the book, just for the book, pointedly ignoring the dampness that once again formed in her smallclothes.

“Fine,” she sighed. “I’m in. Let’s go.”

Chapter Text

Cresting the hills of Whiterun’s rugged terrain, Nadine and Brynjolf followed the path east toward Darkwater Crossing. It was a pleasantly balmy afternoon; the area just out of reach of Skyrim’s vast expanses of wintry permafrost, and with the remainder of the day’s sun still shining down adamantly. Cantering on horseback along the cobblestone path, they pressed on with purpose, eager to make it there by nightfall.

“So what is it that we actually have to pick up?” Nadine asked.

“Ores, mainly. Big bunch of corundum ore - apparently the place is known for it. Something to do with the hot springs nearby.”

“Hot springs?”

“Yeah, one of the hidden jewels of Eastmarch. Everyone thinks Skyrim is just a wasteland of ice and snow, but the volcanic rocks and springs are as much a part of her as the tundras or mountains.”

Nadine was intrigued, both by the existence of volcanic springs and the possibility of perhaps getting to bathe in one. “Damn, I can’t believe I haven’t ventured there in my travels.”

“Well, there’s still time, lass,” Brynjolf smiled, his gaze piercing Nadine through. “Maybe if we’ve got time we could both take a dip.”

Nadine struggled to regain her composure as she flushed, feeling the arousal starting to pool again. The pair approached an imposing stone tower, a bridge attaching it to a matching tower at the other side of the river. Scouting, she could spot either soldiers or brigands patrolling the towers and bridge, as well as someone outside the tower they were approaching. As they drew nearer, the figure approached them.

The robust figure of an Orc woman clad in crude hide armour assessed them for a moment, before speaking. “Alright, lovebirds. This here’s a toll bridge, so you’ll need to hand over 200 septims to pass.”

Nadine didn’t generally consider herself to be a betting woman, but if she were to wager who was in charge of these towers, she would guess bandits. Pausing for a short moment, she considered the best way to deal with this. Intimidation? Bribery? Bluster? Suddenly, a spark of inspiration struck her, and she took a deep breath.

“Greetings, daughter of Malacath. We’d be happy to pay your toll but perhaps you’d be interested in something far more valuable?” Nadine’s voice took on a slightly more powerful, malevolent tone than was her usual, surprising Brynjolf.

The Orsimer’s arms stayed folded, but her eyebrow arched. “Like what, exactly?”

Reaching into her knapsack, Nadine retrieved the replica tome she had recently procured. “Oh, nothing really - just a book of Daedric knowledge, with near legendary power and value.”

Watching as the Orc’s jaw dropped at the sight of the book, Nadine’s courage was bolstered.

“If it doesn’t interest you, that’s fine - we’ll just pay our toll to your boss and be on our way. I’m sure they’d love to know how they missed out on-”

“No! No, I’m - um, we’re interested. We’ll take the book,” the bandit said, flustered by the linguistic wall Nadine had backed her up against.

“Excellent.” Nadine smiled. “Pleasure doing business.”

“Yeah, thanks. Be on your way.”

As soon as the pair were out of earshot of the towers and the bandits guarding them, they erupted in a din of mirth and glee.

“Shor’s bones lass, where did that come from?!”

“Honestly, I’ve no idea,” Nadine admitted, breathing a deep sigh of giddy relief. “I knew that paying the toll was out of the question, but we couldn’t risk going up against Gods knew how many bandits. Then I thought about what I might have in my bag that I could pretend was valuable, and remembered the decoy. And yes, the irony isn’t lost on me.”

“Nicely done - a stroke of genius, that one. Colour me impressed. We could use someone like you down in the Thieves Guild,” Brynjolf grinned. “Well, maybe without the ‘spying on people fucking and getting caught’ part.”

“Doesn’t that make up most of your guildmates?” Nadine countered, bolstered by her recent triumph and enjoying the banter between them.

“You wound me, Nadine,” Brynjolf teased. “They might be filthy perverts but they’re professionals. They don’t get caught in the act.”

The sun was setting by the time they reached Darkwater Crossing. Corals and lavenders blended together in a heavenly canvas, the remaining light casting a divine glow over the terrain. It was moments like this that Nadine treasured; taking in the beauty of nature and the wondrous landscapes of the land she was exploring. They caught their contact just as she was settling down to eat - an older Nord woman with the same adventurous spark in her eye as Nadine - who handed them a large sack full to the brim with ore from the local mine.

“Job’s halfway done, at least,” Brynjolf said, “Doubt we’ll make it back tonight though, so we should probably find somewhere decent and set up camp.”

Retrieving a bottle of Alto Wine from his knapsack, he grinned at Nadine, winking knowingly. “Think we should celebrate that triumph back at the tower first though, eh?”

Nadine looked at him dubiously. “Hmm, I should really have some food first, I’ve hardly eaten anything.” Spotting his widening grin and his hand gesturing toward his crotch, her eyes narrowed. “That doesn’t count.”

“Just as well I picked up some supplies before we left Whiterun, then,” Brynjolf replied, pulling out the parcels of food from his bag.

Within minutes, the pair were tucking into an impromptu picnic underneath Skyrim’s waning sun - fresh, crusty bread laden with thick slabs of goats cheese and roast beef, parcels of buttery pastry filled with meat and gravy, honey nut treats with slices of sweet red apple. Nadine was in heaven, elated to be surrounded by two of her most favourite things. The volcanic hot springs truly were astounding visually. With its craggy rocks, deep grooves and creep clusters growing all over, it was a league apart from the snow blanketed landscape Skyrim was typically known for. As she sipped her wine she took in more and more of her surroundings, noticing all the different fascinating flora and fauna that existed here.

“So lass,” Brynjolf said, voice soft as velvet. “Still up for that dip in the springs?”

The familiar feeling of arousal mixed with nerves shot through Nadine like a thousand tiny lightning bolts. Suddenly, she felt the way she had felt back in the Bannered Mare - yearning for him like nothing she had ever known. Lust overpowering her once more, she grew breathier, struggling to keep herself composed. She could only nod.

“Good girl. Undress.”

“Here? ”

“Was something unclear about what I asked you to do?” came Brynjolf’s reply, still soft but more direct in intent.

Nadine’s eyes darted round. “What if someone sees me?”

“Imagine that,” Brynjolf chuckled, enjoying this game. “Don’t worry, we’re away from any prying eyes, and I’ll keep watch. Plus, doesn’t that add to the fun?”

Cheeks ablaze, Nadine disrobed as quickly as she could, making a beeline for the nearby spring as soon as she was naked.

Teasing the girl for her eagerness, Brynjolf met her at the side of the pool, feigning hurt at her not waiting for him. “You do want me to join you, don’t you?”

Eyes wide, Nadine nodded.

Brynjolf simply smiled and started to undress, calmly and confidently. Sitting his armour down on a nearby rock, he took Nadine’s hand and guided her gently into the water.

“I don’t think you mind this nearly as much as you’re letting on, lass. In fact, I think you might enjoy being so bare out in the open. Am I right?”

As the warm water kissed her body, shame burned through her, making her whole body blush. Quietly she acquiesced, and gasped as she felt a finger work its way along the slick lips of her sex, delving deeper inward and seeking out the sensitive pearl that laid between them.

“I’m definitely right,” he purred lustily in her ear as he felt her arousal surround his fingers, sliding them into her eager cunt with a primal need and pumping steadily as he kissed along her neck. Feeling her melt underneath his touch already, he used his thumb to graze her clit, now knowing exactly which ways to tease Nadine in order to make her quiver. As the pair locked in a passionate kiss, he felt her sigh and moan into him as he continued to work her over, his fingering and stroking intensifying as her hand wrapped around his cock.

Feeling his hard appendage twitch and throb in her hand, Nadine felt her own desire grow, the sensations seeming more powerful as they pleasured each other simultaneously. Every twitch or moan they made seemed to spur the other on, creating a delicious echo chamber of building tension, fucking each other with their hands. Nadine was overcome with desire and was nearing orgasm, but longed to feel Brynjolf’s cock inside her; to feel truly entwined, joined and filled with him. Reluctantly breaking away from their kiss, she whispered breathlessly in his ear, begging him to fuck her.

He was only too happy to oblige, fetching a bottle of something from his satchel and situating himself on top of a stone, now only partially submerged in the water. Pouring the liquid from the vial onto his cock, he massaged it in as Nadine gazed in awe at how proud his member looked, erect and glistening.

“Enjoying the view?” Brynjolf smirked. “If you’d like to do more than just stare, feel free to climb on.”

Nadine’s skin blazed scarlet as she climbed on top of Brynjolf’s lap, feeling the head of his cock slide between her slick labia and probe into her eager opening. Lowering herself onto him gently, she felt him enter her; inch by inch, his hard, thick member filled her tight cunt, feeling overwhelming at first but quickly becoming extremely pleasurable indeed. Her position on top allowed her to leverage exactly how much of her lover she could take, her movements dictating the pace and depth of their fucking. Grinding herself against his strong, rugged lap as she rode his cock, Nadine inched ever closer to release, moaning animalistically between ragged breaths.

“Pleasure yourself for me,” Brynjolf purred, “I want to see you get yourself off with my cock inside you.”

Having rarely touched herself, never mind in front of a stranger, Nadine was nervous. However, this only mingled with her already heady feelings of excitement, exhibitionism and lust, spurring her to succumb to her more deviant desires. Frantically, she stroked and teased her swollen, aching clit, every touch combining with Brynjolf’s thrusts into her cunt and edging her further towards an orgasm of volcanic proportions.

When she came, she came hard; the twin sensations of her fingers strumming against her sensitive clit and her lover’s cock pistoning into her mingling to create something greater than the sum of their parts. Waves upon waves of pleasure crashed over her as she continued to hump and grind against Brynjolf, her body not knowing whether to fight the shocks of overwhelming intensity or keep riding the current that promised more delicious release. As her bucking subsided, he kissed her deeply, wrapping one hand in her hair as the other grabbed her hip, anchoring his cock firmly within her. His strokes growing more urgent, he thrust ever deeper into Nadine, giving her no quarter.

Feeling her cunt contract around his cock once more as she groaned and writhed on his lap, Brynjolf let his own orgasm topple over him, his cries raw and guttural as he spurted thick ropes of cum deep into her. The two drifted back down together, wrapped up in each other. Still partially submerged in the hot spring, they continued to kiss passionately and deeply beneath the torchbugs and stars until they could bear to separate.

Nadine awoke early the next day, restless and bleary-eyed. Remembering the happenings of the night before, she blushed, feeling a slight pang of embarrassment at her own brazenness. What had got into her the past few days?  She wasn’t sure, but she wasn’t entirely regretful that it had happened - both encounters with Brynjolf had been extremely enjoyable, and she was already hungry for more. She couldn’t believe that she hadn’t discovered the wonders of sex sooner. Granted, she was telling the truth when she had said that she hadn’t met anyone who had ever interested her in that way, but now that she had, she wanted to delve deeper, to explore further.

While bathing in the hot springs, Nadine allowed her hands to take their time exploring her body, like they had the previous day at the waterfall. Looking around tentatively to make sure she was still alone, she let her dominant hand wander down to her soft, tufted mound, gingerly prodding herself at first then probing deeper and revelling in each touch and brush of her fingers. Her other hand toyed with her nipple, enjoying the way it knotted between her fingers as she pinched it, emitting a tiny gasp at just how sensitive the flesh of her breast was. Her dominant hand still busy, she felt the soft, sensitive pearl of her sex between her slick lips - teaching herself exactly how best to manipulate the tender button in order to please herself correctly. Once she was sure she had perfected this motion, she let her fingers slide further south, working them into her tight cunt, her thumb continuing where her other digits had previously been. Furiously and hungrily she fucked herself with her fingers, grinding against herself, back arching and knees buckling against the force of her self-induced pleasure. Rising and falling erratically as Nadine learned her own body and how best to pleasure it. She was eventually overcome with an especially intense orgasm, having to bite down on her own fist to stop from crying out in ecstasy.

By the time Brynjolf stirred, Nadine had bathed, dressed and packed her horse. She sat eating her breakfast by the side of the springs.

“Morning, lass,” he called groggily. “You always this bright and early?”

“Depends,” she replied, chomping on an apple, “But generally I do like to get a move on when I’ve got a job to do.”

“Just thought you might’ve been worn out after last night,” he shot back, grinning cockily as ever.

“Very bloody funny, Bryn,” Nadine responded, trying not to show how flustered he still made her.

“Who knows? Maybe you were up so early because you were pleasuring yourself thinking about it.”

Her face blazed and eyes darted downward, guilt writ large on her face.

Brynjolf’s smile widened, obviously thrilled to have uncovered this secret. “Oh, so that’s exactly what the minx was doing, was it?”

Familiar twin feelings of embarrassment and lust rushing through Nadine’s veins once more, she felt herself already begin to submit to Brynjolf’s power game.

“Yes, Brynjolf.”

“Well then, I think this slut might need to be spanked somewhere nice and secluded. Follow me.”

He led Nadine to a nearby grove, the trees dense and looming, protecting the pair from any potential onlookers. Stopping at a nearby tree stump, he turned to her, his crystalline green eyes piercing into her soul, and she struggled to restrain herself from quivering under their gaze.

“Undress.”

Nervous to be so exposed but eager to obey his command, she quickly began to disrobe as she had the night before, fingers struggling with the buttons and hooks of her attire. Finally she had stripped down to nothing, the gentle breeze of the morning making her nipples pucker.

“Kneel over that tree stump, lass.”

She felt the leaves and dirt beneath her knees as her breasts pressed against the trunk of the tree, the air rich with the scent of earth and moss. With her round, plump arse presented, her cunt dripped with anticipation for her lover to deliver his punishment.

He rubbed her behind with his hand to begin with, preparing her for his onslaught and building up just enough suspense. When he was satisfied with his timing, he delivered several steady blows to her buttocks, reddening them beautifully and making Nadine emit gorgeously deviant purrs of pain-pleasure. Occasionally pausing to grope her punished arse or massage the patches of pink that formed, Nadine could already feel the wetness trace down her nether lips and inner thighs; something which was not subdued when she heard Brynjolf emit slight growls of satisfaction as he spanked and stroked her.

“Good girl. Turn around, but stay on your knees.”

In a haze of complete lust, Nadine pulled herself up from the tree stump, turning on her knees to face Brynjolf. She was in extremely close proximity to his package, and could already see it straining desperately against his breeches, eager to be uncaged. Equal in her enthusiasm to free his aching cock, she released it from his armoured trousers, quickly getting her hands and mouth to work. The action being slightly more familiar now, she found she could take more of him in her mouth, and for more prolonged periods - the harder she tried, the better she got. She loved the way his cock felt in her mouth; the way it responded to her tongue’s careful ministrations, how she could feel it get firmer the harder she sucked. Something about the act of sucking cock was truly rewarding, and she realised how much she truly loved doing it.

Wrapping Nadine’s hair in his hands, Brynjolf guided her further on to his cock, gently rather than forcefully prompting her. She was still fairly inexperienced, and imagined that he must have had many women pleasuring him with more knowledge and skill than she, but luckily he didn’t seem to mind.

“Is mine the first cock you’ve ever sucked?” Brynjolf panted, voice thick with desire.

Nadine nodded, making a noise of assent around his member. She had assumed this was an observation on her lack of ability, but was surprised when her answer made him even stiffer, a low moan escaping from his lips as he pulled her in further.

Nadine grabbed Brynjolf’s shaft firmly, her head bobbing as she concentrated on taking as much of his length as she could, feeling him building up to release. As he thrust harder into her eager mouth, he came hard, Nadine struggling to swallow all of it. Pulling out sooner than intended, his cock continued to spurt cum over her face and hair, leaving her looking thoroughly dishevelled.

Breathless and eyes glazed, Nadine took a moment to recover, as did Brynjolf. Cupping her head upward, he wiped the mess from her face gently with a cloth, his own hair wild and unkempt.

“Thank you very much for that, lass,” he sighed, cleaning his cum from her the best he could. “You sure you’ve never done that with anyone else?”

“Fairly sure,” she half-giggled, blissful and euphoric.

After a short while of enjoying each other’s touch, Brynjolf spoke softly.

“We best get ready to go, lass. We’ve still got to get back and deliver this package.”

“Fuck, I’d forgotten about that,” Nadine groaned, dreading her meeting with Adrianne and Ulfberth.

“Don’t worry, you’ll be fine,” Brynjolf encouraged. “I’ll be right next to you if you need any backup.”

“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.”

Throwing her clothes back on with a careless abandon, Nadine prepared herself for the journey ahead, and what laid at the end of it. The pair climbed aboard their horses and galloped along the path, making haste to meet with Adrianne and Ulfberth.

Chapter Text

Nadine’s body was filled with the all too familiar feeling of nervous arousal, which the horseback ride had done nothing to abate. As they approached their destination, her heart sank as she realised they would be meeting at the very place she had stolen the item from - and been caught - in the first place.

“Ah, here we are,” Brynjolf turned to her with a roguish smile. “I understand you’re already familiar with the premises?”

“Oh, sod off, Brynjolf.” Nadine shot back, her face flushing already as he knocked on the sturdy wooden door.

Adrianne and Ulfberth sat in front of them on two imposing, almost throne-like armchairs. The pair had an authoritative and not altogether friendly presence; they knew exactly who the two of them were and it was clear they weren’t in the mood to mess around.

“Greetings Adrianne, Ulfberth. We’re extremely grateful for your time in agreeing to meet with us.”

“Then stop wasting ours and get on with it, Brynjolf.” Adrianne’s tone was cold, unwavering. It was obvious she wasn’t prepared to suffer fools gladly.

“Okay, fair enough,” Brynjolf said. The grand chivalry was gone, but the charismatic smile remained. “We’ll get down to brass tacks. We’ve brought the ore you asked for, from Darkwater Crossing. I also understand that my colleague witnessed something she shouldn’t have when retrieving the book we’re after. What can we do to get you to part with that item, as well as make amends for my colleague’s misdemeanor? If it’s septims you’re after, I can assure you that we can compensate you handsomely.”

“You know damn well we have no interest in money, especially not from the coffers of the Thieves Guild. We want to speak to your business associate.”

Adrianne’s words dripped venom, Nadine feeling appropriately dressed down already. She stepped forward.

“You, girl. What’s your name?”

“Nadine, Miss. Nadine Rielle.”

“Breton, huh?” she tutted. “Didn’t think they raised such naughty girls in High Rock.”

Nadine’s face glowed scarlet.

“So, wench? Did you get a good eyeful?”

Staring at the ground, unable to look anyone in the eye, she nodded.

“Speak, slut.”

“Yes, Miss.”

“Tell us what you saw.”

Nadine’s hands were shaking, and she struggled to steady her voice as she answered. “I...I saw you both...and a Redguard male...on the bed over there. You were...you had Ulfberth in your mouth-”

“Had what in my mouth?”

“His cock, Adrianne.”

“Good. Continue.”

The praise awoke something within her, calming her stutter. “You had Ulfberth’s cock in your mouth and the Redguard’s cock in your...your cunt.” Nadine was shocked to hear the word come out of her own mouth, yet incredibly aroused by it. “Both men were fucking you at the same time, and I could hear the noises of the fucking - wet, sloppy sounds and the moans you were all making.”

“And this excited you, did it? You enjoyed it?”

“Yes, I did.”

“I’m sure a greedy, curious little Breton slut would love to be used like that, wouldn’t you?”

Nadine swallowed and stared at the floor, before finally admitting, shamefully, “Yes, Adrianne.”

Brynjolf interjected, his voice surprising Nadine, who had briefly forgotten that he was there. “Sorry to interrupt, but I just had an idea on how we could repay you both, if you’re interested?”

Adrianne’s eyebrow arched, slightly irritated but intrigued. “I’m listening.”

“Well...considering Nadine’s various transgressions, it sounds like two things are in order. First of all, a punishment befitting such a naughty girl.”

Nadine saw a brief smile cross Brynjolf’s face, then Adrianne’s. This was not going the way Brynjolf had said it would.

“Second off, since you gave her such an enjoyable show, I think Nadine should thank you both properly. What do you reckon?”

Adrianne and Ulfberth looked at each other, each knowing full well this was exactly what they had hoped to get when meeting with Nadine. “Pretty weighted in our favour. Yours too actually, you sly bastard. Anyway, we’re satisfied with this deal, as long as the girl agrees.”

Turning to Nadine, Adrianne addressed her. “So, your boss has turned you into a bit of a bargaining chip. Luckily for you, it’s your choice whether you get used as such. If you walk away, the only thing you’ll lose is the spoils of your job. You know the terms, so the choice is yours. What say you?”

Nadine met Brynjolf’s apologetic smile with a glare. This is why you should never trust thieves, she thought bitterly. If she did get that book, she was going to clobber him with it.

Was it worth whatever punishment she faced for the contract? As if to answer her, she felt her sex throb, dripping and desperate with want. Shame, fury and lust all mingled together in a heady concoction, Nadine unable to comprehend why this made her feel the way she did. In truth, it wasn’t even about the book anymore. She didn’t even need the money.

Quietly but decisively, she spoke. “I choose to stay.”

Adrianne’s mouth curved upwards into a sinister grin.

“Undress.”

As Nadine disrobed, Adrianne noticed her unkempt undergarments, hurriedly fastened hooks and runs in stockings.

“Hmm, what happened here?” she probed, knowing full well what had likely transpired. “Been busy this morning, have we?”

Nadine’s heart sank. “Yes, Adrianne...with Brynjolf, earlier.”

“You really are the wanton little whore, aren’t you?” she said, tutting and smirking. “You’ll need to be punished for that, too.”

Now standing naked, Adrianne and Ulfberth chatted amongst themselves, deciding which tool they should each use to punish Nadine, eventually settling on a leather flogger with an ebony handle for Adrianne, and a deep, sturdy hardwood paddle for Ulfberth. Adrianne ordered her to prostrate herself over a leather lined bench, bottom poised in the air.

“You are to make your apology and ask for your punishment. You are to count out each spanking as you receive it and ask for the next one. Once you have been punished by me, you are to thank me for disciplining you, then prepare to repeat the process with Ulfberth. If any of these rules are disobeyed or not followed properly, you will be punished further. Is that understood?”

Nadine nodded and managed to quietly vocalise her agreement. Her body tensed as she heard the whoosh of the flogger being flayed through the air, in preparation for her punishment.

She began talking, her voice catching slightly, hoarse and nervous as she tried to find her footing in an awkward situation. She said she was sorry that she broke into their property, she was sorry that she saw them, she was sorry that she stayed and watched, and she was sorry that she’s such a naughty whore that enjoyed spying on people having sex and engaging in lewd acts with common thieves. She asked for forgiveness and to be punished, please.

“I’ll consider it,” Adrianne responded coolly. “Let’s see how you take your punishment, first.”

It felt like an eternity before the first blow was dealt. It took Nadine by surprise, mingling with her own shame and stinging a little but quickly subsiding and giving way to arousal.

“One. Another, please.”

This one hit with more conviction; still not enough to really smart but enough to elicit a yelp of slight pain and shock from Nadine, the sting lingering for longer this time.

“Two. Another, please.”

The third strike of Adrianne’s flogger made contact with full force, each of the tails of the instrument biting Nadine’s tender flesh, reddening her buttocks further and making her cry out, to Adrianne’s delight. Once she had recovered from the initial bite of escalating pain, she managed to speak.

“Three. Another, please.”

There was a short wait for this one - the suspense making it sting all the more when it did arrive. Nadine was surprised to find that although it hurt, she did not dislike it - the endurance was its own reward, the stings and bites of the flogger turning into a warm glow radiating from her buttocks, not dissimilar to the heat she could feel growing between her legs. She realised again that she was getting incredibly aroused, even though all that had happened thus far was her getting whipped and asked to apologise. Why was this, she wondered? At least, she would have, if she hadn’t been shaken from her thoughts by Adrianne.

“Well? I haven’t got all day.”

Dazed and confused, she struggled to think how many spankings she had received. She hoped she had remembered correctly.

“Um, four, please, another, please.”

Smirking at her inarticulate way of asking, Adrianne delivered another steadfast blow. This continued, Nadine counting out each flogging and politely asking for another, breasts pressed against the bench, hair wet with sweat and still matted with Brynjolf’s cum from earlier, bottom poised to receive each blow as they came, and hot, wet cunt presented and yearning. Adrianne delivered six more blows with gradually increasing intensity, part of her hoping that Nadine would slip up so that she could deliver a couple more.

When she reached blow number ten Nadine was practically begging for another flogging; pained, pent up desperation in her voice, as well as the very real desire for forgiveness. Adrianne would at least grant her one of these things, for now.

“That’s all, my dear - you’ve taken your punishment, and you have taken it well. You are forgiven.”

Nadine’s eyes lit up, thrilled to be both forgiven and praised.

“Thank you, Miss. Thank you for forgiving me. Thank you for punishing me. Thank you for...giving me a wonderful show.”

“Come here and you can thank me properly, pet.”

Adrianne ordered Nadine to help her undress. As she removed Adrianne’s clothes, she was reminded of when she was watching her with Ulfberth and the Redguard stranger - how her soft, curvaceous body looked in contrast to the two harder, stronger male bodies. Removing the older woman’s undergarments, she stroked her skin, feeling the softness similar to her own, admiring the deep, rich colour; taking in each exquisite curve and bend of her divine body. She realised there was something incredibly enchanting and alluring about the female form that she had never really noticed - one that rivalled or perhaps even surpassed that of the male form.

At that moment she wished to worship Adrianne; drink in every part of her, devote herself to pleasing her and only her. Feeling emboldened, Nadine embraced her, pulling their lips together. There was a moment of surprise from Adrianne, before the woman took charge again, deepening the kiss. Their tongues danced an ancient dance with each other, as if this was a language they had both spoken for centuries. Adrianne’s kiss, although intense, was softer, tenderer than any of the men Nadine had kissed and didn’t have the same fuzz or scratch that came with a bearded man’s kisses.

Her hands traversed Adrianne’s body - caressing her graceful neck and strong, toned arms forged from years of skillful smithing. She let out a blissful sigh as she ran her finger across her silky stomach, letting it wander upward to play with her large, pendulous breasts and hard, delicious nipples. She broke away from their kiss to move downward and put her mouth to work on her breasts and nipples, flicking with her tongue, nibbling gently with her teeth, delighted every time she heard or felt Adrianne shudder and moan with pleasure. While her mouth was busy, she remembered what Brynjolf had used his fingers to do to her earlier and tried to do the same - working her fingers along Adrianne’s thighs, gently and gradually at first, feeling for evidence of her arousal which she was pleased to find fairly quickly. Nadine moved her fingers further inward until she eventually reached Adrianne’s soaking wet, neatly trimmed cunt, beautiful and brown and glistening. Working it with her middle finger, teasing the clit, careful to be gentle and gauge Adrianne’s reactions at first, she slid her finger in slowly and deeply. Her fingering gradually became a bit more intense, and Adrianne’s moans became a bit more encouraging.

“Get on your knees, over by the bench.” Adrianne ordered in a steely, commanding tone. Nadine complied, pulling her finger out and licking it clean as she did so.

“Naughty girl,” Adrianne growled, sinking down onto the bench, “I think we’ll need to add a few extra paddlings for that, won’t we?”

Nadine responded by eagerly lapping at Adrianne’s waiting, dripping sex, her tongue savouring every drop of its sweet, heady nectar. She explored everywhere her fingers had traced, feeling every inch of Adrianne’s warm wet tender flesh under her tongue, ever so gently grazing with her teeth. Varying her pressure, she took her time to mentally map out each groove and bump, her nose inhaling deep of her intriguing aroma.

As her tongue traced along Adrianne’s petal-like labia, probing deeper until she was almost fucking her wet hole with her tongue, her fingers travelled across her stomach, marvelling in how silky soft her skin was, occasionally grazing gently with her nails, eliciting shivers. She so badly wanted to impart the pleasure unto Adrianne that she had received not hours ago - toe curling, mind bending bliss - but she couldn’t decide where to start. She wanted to be everywhere, do everything at once. She wanted to finger her but didn’t want to lose the ability to play with her gorgeous breasts, explore her divine curves, marvel in the tactile beauty of her silken skin. She wanted to nibble her nipples, kiss her lips, dance the passionate dance of tongues entwining and map out her body using just her mouth, but she also wanted to drink deep of her sex, didn’t want to miss a single drop of her delicious juices. Luckily for her, Adrianne was a lot more decisive, and wasn’t slow in letting her know exactly what she wanted.

“Get those fingers back to work, my pet. Not just one this time, either.”

Nadine wasn’t sure if she had the dexterity to handle manipulating three fingers yet, so she hoped that two would suffice. Still licking away hungrily between Adrianne’s legs, she moved back upward to focus on her clit as she inched in her middle and ring finger, curving them slightly as she went, feeling the natural curves and bumps of her tight cunt. Her tongue, warm and wet, soft and circling; her fingers, rhythmic and intense, serpentine in movement, massaging in the same “come hither” motion she herself had enjoyed so much. It seemed to be eliciting a similar response from Adrianne, who was grinding her glorious, hot cunt against Nadine. Wrapping her hair in her hands, Adrianne’s breathing and grinding grew faster and shallower, more desperate, spurring Nadine on further to pick up her own pace. Practically suffocating in Adrianne’s cunt, Nadine furiously pumped and lapped, absolutely determined to satiate her mistresses’ appetite. As her moans grew louder, Adrianne came furiously, her body shaking on the bench, more of her gorgeous juice flowing from her cunt, getting over Nadine’s face and hair, and adding to the not insignificant pool that had formed on the bench. Remembering her own intensity and sensitivity level during and post-orgasm, Nadine knew to taper off her fingering and licking, pulling her fingers out and having one last taste of Adrianne’s lovely cunt juices, surfacing to kiss Adrianne and caress her hair. They joined in a fiery, passionate and surprisingly sweet kiss, both giddy and a bit giggly, basking in the deliciously fun and intimate moment they had just shared.

“Was that an okay thank you, Adrianne?” Nadine asked, with a wicked yet innocently hopeful smile on her face.

“Absolutely, darling. We’ve left a bit of a mess though, so you’d best clean that up before you situate yourself for your second punishment.”

Nadine beamed at the compliment, then got even more excited when she realised what she’d need to clean up - and how she’d need to clean it up. As she licked Adrianne’s juices off the bench, once again savouring every drop, eyes glazed and in a lusty daze, she heard Adrianne in the background:

“Ulfberth, you’d better get ready for this one. You’re in for a treat.”

Back in position; face down, upper body resting against the bench, legs spread and bottom poised, Nadine waited for the punishment that was about to be administered. The aroma of Adrianne’s exhilarating sex lingered and mingled with the smell of the leather of the bench, as well as the scent of her own arousal. It was a truly intoxicating mixture; all powerful and all consuming. She had never felt desire or lust of this level before, nor had she ever even imagined she’d be in situations like these. What was going on?

“So, I hear you gave my wife quite a good time, eh?” Ulfberth’s deep, gravelly voice rumbled from behind her, sending shivers down her spine and immediately making her even wetter.

Smiling inwardly at the second-hand compliment but not wanting to seem a braggart, she considered how she would respond to this. Eventually she replied, quietly and coyly, “I think so, Ulfberth.”

He let out a hearty belly laugh that seemed to reverberate around the room. Everything about his presence, from his imposing, muscular physique to his full, bushy beard to his booming voice to the huge warrior’s battleaxe that he often wore draped over his shoulder spelled out that this man was not someone to be trifled with. It both terrified and excited Nadine beyond measure.

“You seem awfully uncertain about the job you did considering you just had to clean up her mess from my nice leather bench.”

This last piece of information caught Nadine by surprise - the craftsmanship of the bench hadn’t exactly been at the forefront of her mind but if she’d had to guess who had made it, she probably would have assumed Adrianne - after all, she was the smith. She guessed Ulfberth did some woodworking and smithing too? Made sense, she supposed - they both ran Warmaiden’s, so Adrianne having another set of hands nearby would be useful, even more so if they belonged to her strong, Nordic husband.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, Ulfberth. I didn’t realise it was your bench...I’ve cleaned it up as requested. It’s a very nice bench…”

Nadine quietly cursed herself inwardly for her somewhat awkward word choice, realising that now that she had said it out loud, “it’s a very nice bench” was not quite the smooth compliment she had hoped it would be.

Ulfberth let out another rumbling laugh. “Flattery will get you nowhere, girl. I know my bench is nice - my wife isn’t the only one with talent in Warmaiden’s, you know. I also made the paddle that I’m about to punish you with - you can tell me how good the craftsmanship is on that once I’m finished. Now, about the matter of your punishment.”

Nadine cleared her throat, trying to remember how she started this earlier.

“I’m sorry for breaking into yours and Adrianne’s property, and stealing something which wasn’t mine.”

“I’m sorry for sneaking in further, and for spying on you, Adrianne and the Redguard male, and for staying and watching for so long. I’m also sorry for being the kind of naughty wench who would enjoy such an inappropriate show, would wish to be part of that show herself, and would involve herself in acts of lust and debauchery with a member of the Thieves Guild.”

“I’m sorry for plunging my finger deep into the most intimate part of your wife and being so overcome with my own need and lust that I licked my finger clean of all her juices,” Nadine continued, her voice breathy, full of hungry desire, her own words spurring her on. “And I’m sorry that those same juices spilled on to your bench, which I also had to lick clean.”

“There’s something you’ve missed,” Ulfberth responded tersely. “You took something else that wasn’t yours.”

Nadine was completely puzzled by this accusation, as the replica item was the only thing she had stolen from their premises. Lascivious wench she may be, but she was by no means a habitual thief!

“I’m sorry but I’m quite sure I haven’t, Sir.”

“That’s where you’re wrong, girl. Did you know that Adrianne requires my permission to come? That makes her orgasms mine.”

Nadine gulped. She had no idea about this protocol but was fairly certain that wasn’t going to suffice as an excuse. She was fully aware that punitively, the odds were weighted against her. Ulfberth’s voice, his manner of addressing her, his matter-of-fact statements all made her feel an intense mixture of emotions. She strongly wanted to obey him, but also wanted him to overpower her. It was a strange witches’ brew of fear, lust and submission.

“I’m sorry, Ulfberth. I’m sorry for making Adrianne come without your permission. Please forgive me.”

“Tell me what you are.”

“I’m a naughty, wanton whore who needs to be punished. Please give me the punishment I both need and desire,” Nadine pleaded, buttocks angled and the petals of her sex now dripping; indisputable evidence of her own arousal.

“With pleasure, my girl. You’ll find I’m not quite as lenient as my wife with my punishment - I think 20 strikes ought to do it.”

The first strike came down firmly but with restraint. It wasn’t completely painless, but its intention seemed more playful than painful, only warming and pinkening her cheek momentarily.

“One. Another, please.”

Nadine wondered if the remaining nineteen would be equally playful in intent as the second blow thudded across her left buttock, slightly harder this time.

“Two. Another, please.”

Nadine noticed that the paddle caused a different sort of pain and feeling to the flogger - more reminiscent to Brynjolf’s spanking earlier, with more of a thudding sensation than the sharp sting of Adrianne’s instrument of choice. She liked the way the hardwood felt against her bottom - cold, firm and unwavering.

“Three. Another please.”

The room was filled with the sound of the paddle spanking against Nadine’s bottom, louder and harder each time, punctuated by her counts and polite requests for another. As each blow was administered and the number ascended, she started to worry slightly. Something about this felt...off, somehow. This was too easy. Adrianne had administered ten flogs and by the third, Nadine had yelped out in pain and nearly lost count. She was now several paddlings in and wasn’t even close, yet Ulfberth had claimed to be far less lenient than his wife…

“Eight. Another, please.”

As if to answer her question, the ninth strike clashed down with full force, the hardwood paddle making a cacophonous clapping sound as it impacted with Nadine’s supple buttock. Crying out in a mixture of surprise and pain, Nadine grabbed the sides of the leather bench, knuckles whitening, riding out the intense sensation of burning pain that suddenly overcame her. She now realised exactly what Ulfberth had been talking about, and why his previous spankings had been so light - a combination of lulling her into a false sense of security and priming her bottom for its real punishment. Her head swam, and she struggled to keep her bottom poised.

Ulfberth continued his merciless paddling, spanking Nadine hard and caressing her tender red bottom with his instrument of torture. Every number Nadine counted out was one more brutal blow, but also one number closer to the end of her punishment. Her left buttock was on fire, tender and aching from the blows that had been delivered. Her entire body felt conflicted; still incredibly aroused, but her pain receptors crying out, being soothed for a fleeting moment every time Ulfberth massaged her behind with the paddle. Finally, blow twenty was reached, and elated to have reached the end of her penance, Nadine did not intend to ask for another.

“Good girl, I knew you had it in you,” Ulfberth remarked fondly, caressing the scene of his retribution with his large, strong hand. “Now for the twenty on the other cheek.”

Nadine jerked her head round, in disbelief and panic at what she’d just heard. She’d just had to endure this and she had to do it again, on the right cheek? Where in the blazes was she going to sit?

“Are you joking? That’s not what y-”

The paddle spanked harshly on her already reddened buttock, causing Nadine to yelp out in pain.

“Talk back to me again and I’ll make it double, is that understood?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Good girl.”

The first blow came down, harder than it had been on the left cheek, Ulfberth being more familiar with Nadine’s limits and thresholds now. Still starting out fairly gently but picking up in intensity, Ulfberth this time waited until strike six until he reached full force. Nadine, still struggling to handle the pain but her body, now building a tolerance and the painkiller of a natural adrenaline rush kicking in slightly, was beginning to process the pain in different ways. Still struggling to wrap her head around the idea of something being both simultaneously painful and pleasurable, torturous and delicious, she clung to the bench for dear life and settled into her own meditative rhythm of counting out her paddlings and asking for another. The last five were agony, pushing her to her limit, making her curse like a sailor and beg to the nine divines for some small respite. Nevertheless, she somehow made it to twenty, breathless and shaking, bottom scarlet and aching.

“You holding up okay, girl?” Ulfberth asked, now kneeling by Nadine’s side, holding her hand. “I gave you a bit of a thrashing, there. I’m impressed that you took it.” He suddenly seemed much less intimidating than he had earlier, the stormy exterior giving way to a warmer, softer side that she hadn’t really noticed before. Nadine smiled at him.

“I’m fine, I just needed a minute to recover,” she responded dreamily. “It was quite a thrashing. Thank you for punishing me so well, Ulfberth. The craftsmanship of your paddle is wonderful too, might I add.” she flashed Ulfberth a cheeky grin as he let out another of his deep, rumbling laughs. It sounded much less scary this time, and much more comforting.

“Wait there, I’m going to get something for your behind. Nothing scary, don’t worry.”

She considered his surname, and how fitting it actually was - like an angry cave bear ready to rend someone limb from limb when he was at his scariest, yet like a big cuddly teddy bear when he was at his nicest. She was intrigued by how much both of these facets appealed to her; how attracted she was to Ulfberth being both of these things. She smiled a wide, indulgent smile as she heard him return.

“This should help with the tenderness and redness a bit.”

Nadine felt his large, strong hands rub cool, smooth salve into her aching flesh, massaging gently and expertly. Stinging a little at first but fading quickly, it soothed her recently punished buttocks wonderfully. She let out a contented sigh as Ulfberth massaged the cream in deeper, his hands seeming to radiate calming energy all of their own, like some sort of divine priest.

“All done. Now get on your knees over by my chair, you’ve still got to thank me.”

A little dazed but otherwise fine, she climbed off the bench and regained her bearings of the room, leaving behind a trail of her own excitement. This did not go unnoticed by Ulfberth, who sat naked on his chair, waiting.

“Adrianne, looks like our little slut’s made a mess of the bench. Go over and clean it up.”

As Nadine watched Adrianne saunter over to attend to the mess, she was surprised to notice Brynjolf still in the room, clearly enjoying the terms of the agreement that they had all struck. Kneeling in front of Ulfberth, she took a moment to marvel at the size of his cock - equally as large and imposing as the rest of him, she knew he would be a great deal more challenging to take in her mouth than Brynjolf. Wrapping both hands around the base, in slight awe at how thick his huge member appeared to be, she held him steady as she licked along the head, her tongue traveling downwards, feeling every vein and groove of him. Alternating between small delicate licks and wet sloppy ones, she varied her intensity, figuring out what Ulfberth responded to while mentally preparing for how she was going to tackle actually sucking his cock. Brynjolf’s certainly wasn’t small by any means, but Ulfberth’s was a behemoth. Honestly, she wasn’t sure how Adrianne managed it, but she was about to give it a try.

Running her tongue upwards in one long, hungry lick, Nadine wrapped her lips around the large, swollen head of Ulfberth’s cock, engulfing it with her mouth. She sucked gingerly at first, inching it in slightly further as she adjusted to the size, her intensity and pace picking up every time she heard him emit a deep, rumbling moan. His hands were wrapped in her hair, giving her gentle encouragement as her head bobbed up and down, yet clearly careful not to push her down too much as she worked hard to accommodate him. Concentrating on keeping her sucking rhythm steady, she pumped the base of his cock with her hands, making little muffled moans as she did so.

“Mmm, that’s enough of this for now, my slut,” he said, reluctantly pulling Nadine’s head away from his cock. “We’re not finished yet, though. Get on the bed, on all fours. Adrianne, join her. Brynjolf, if you’d also like to join us?”

Nadine looked over in surprise. Why was Brynjolf suddenly being involved? Everyone seemed to sense her bemusement, but Adrianne was the first to speak up about it.

“Truth be told, this isn’t the first time we’ve met Brynjolf in this...particular capacity.” she said with a wry smile. “Turns out you aren’t the only one who engages in lewd acts with common thieves.”

“I resent being referred to as a common thief, you know,” Brynjolf jokingly shot back, “If I’d have been the one to do this job I’d have gotten the item and watched you three fucking without you ever knowing.”

“I’m sure you would’ve, Bryn,” Adrianne grinned.

Nadine waited patiently for Ulfberth’s commands as Adrianne situated herself next to her, leaning in to whisper in her ear, silken skin pressing against hers.

“I missed you, sweet slut.”

They locked in a passionate, tender kiss, tongues entwining and rediscovering each other as if they’d been separated for decades. Nadine gripped the bed, struggling to keep her hands from exploring the other woman again.

“Looks like these two are enjoying themselves, eh?” Brynjolf cheerfully remarked to Ulfberth as they stood behind the women, observing.

“Yeah, but I think it’s about time we joined in on the fun.”

Entranced in their kissing, Nadine and Adrianne barely even registered the men lying in wait behind them until they both felt their fingers exploring their exposed, soaking cunts. The sensation made their kissing more urgent, melting and moaning into each others’ mouths, the vibrations reverberating through the other. Frenzied, they ground against the men’s hands, both knowing they would do anything for the release they craved.

“By the Gods Ulfberth, these two are like bitches in heat!”

“Yep. Just the way I like ‘em.”

The men slowly withdrew their fingers from the women, relishing in the whimpers of disappointment as they did so.

“Now, would you two naughty bitches like to be fucked proper?”

They both fell over themselves to answer Ulfberth’s question in the affirmative, hungry to be filled with their corresponding lover’s hard, throbbing member.

“Beg.”

Both talking at once in eagerness to plead their case, Ulfberth delivered a spank to each of their cheeks, replacing their begging with squeaks of surprise.

“I’m sure both of you sluts have manners, so use them. One at a time. Nadine, beg Brynjolf for his cock.”

Nadine spoke, her voice hoarse. “Please, I want you inside me. I want you to fill me with your cock and take me until you are spent.” Each syllable that spilled out of her mouth dripped with desperation. “Please use me. Please pound your prick deeper and deeper into me, give me the release I need. I’ll do anything, plea-”

Her pleading words faded into almost silence as she took an intake of breath, feeling the head of Brynjolf’s cock pressing against the lips of her cunt, sliding along to collect the wetness that had formed while ever so slightly inching inwards. She wanted to back into it, to take it all in greedily, but she knew better than to test the rules of this perilous, unspoken game. There was also something so delicious about this particular motion - so slow and torturous, yet every second of it feeling amazing, a pleasure all its own. The excruciating slowness of Brynjolf’s insertion began to drive her almost to the brink of insanity, and she started to make slight grinding and writhing motions with her hips, willing him to push in a little further. Unfortunately, this only spurred on Brynjolf to tease Nadine further, enjoying his game of tease and denial. She let out a moan of frustration, wanting him to satiate her need so badly.

“That’s what you get for calling me a common thief, lass.”

Finally, he plunged more of his firm, thick cock inside her, stretching her tight cunt, feeling it grip him and stroke along his length. Grabbing hold of her hips to help anchor his thrusts, Brynjolf continued his motion of sliding his cock almost but not fully out of Nadine, before going back in. Finding it harder and harder to hold back, he inched in harder and deeper each time, making Nadine gasp as she acclimated to the size of something so large inside her. It was still a relatively new feeling - slightly uncomfortable at first, but she was so soaked and aroused that she was quickly growing accustomed to it. The sounds of the pair’s groans, base and primal, were met with the sound of flesh slapping against flesh as their pace quickened.

So wrapped up in their own passion, neither had been aware of Adrianne’s pleas for Ulfberth to take her in a similar manner. Neither had heard her beg him to fuck her in whichever hole he pleased, to degrade her and use her body as he saw fit and remind her who it was she belonged to. Neither had heard Ulfberth refuse Adrianne’s request, only to make her beg again, deciding to grant her request the second time. And as yet, neither had noticed the torturous situation Adrianne was in - Ulfberth working her cunt over with his enormous cock, his fingers circling her clit.

“Remember, whore - no coming until I say so.”

Panting and glistening with sweat, Adrianne bit her lip, eager to obey Ulfberth’s command yet finding it more and more difficult with every passing second.

“P-please, Sir...I need...I can’t...”

“If you can’t control yourself, I’ll have to pull my cock out and use one of your other holes, won’t I?”

Adrianne whimpered and squeaked, at the precipice of orgasm, struggling to hold back.

“Yes, S-sir...”

Sensing how close she was to losing control, Ulfberth slowed his strokes and thrusts, making Adrianne moan out in a strange combination of frustration and relief. Eventually he pulled out, walking round to face Adrianne and Nadine.

“Now, since this slut here is hungry to be filled by two cocks at once but can’t quite manage all of mine,” Ulfberth said gruffly, motioning at Nadine, “and since this other slut here can’t control herself with my cock in her cunt but is very well behaved when it’s in her mouth, I had an idea. I thought perhaps both of you lovely maidens would like to please me with your skillful, dirty mouths.”

Giving Nadine only a moment to respond, Ulfberth took the head of his erect member, still coated with Adrianne’s cunt juice and pressed it to her lips, pushing it into her mouth. She responded nearly instantly, working to suck off every drop of Adrianne’s delicious nectar, running her tongue around the slit and tasting his precum as it leaked from within. She fervently sucked his thick cock, feeling his hands tangle in her hair and push further into her mouth. Not to be outdone, Brynjolf stepped up his decisive, forceful thrusting into her, winding his hand around under her stomach and across the dewy hairs of her mound to play with her swollen, aching clit. Nadine’s moans of intense pleasure rumbled and reverberated through Ulfberth’s throbbing cock, making him fuck her mouth harder and deeper as Adrianne worked the shaft and balls with her mouth.

Nadine’s entire body was overcome with pleasure - nothing outside of these walls existed anymore; only the four of them, and the debauched, deviant carnality that they were currently engaging in. Brynjolf’s cock pistoning in and out, his fingers strumming her clit as her back arched, meeting his thrusts, the pair in a frenzied rhythm as she continued engulfing Ulfberth’s cock with her mouth, sucking and licking, her saliva running downward to meet Adrianne as she worked the base of her master, exchanging brief, sloppy kisses as they went. The sensations were overwhelming; the room filled with the sound of fucking; dirty and debased, wet and fleshy and noisy, moans, growls and obscenities filling in the blanks. Building with a tremendous force, Nadine came, wave after wave of intense orgasmic rapture crashing over her, howling and shaking as if possessed, still with both men’s cocks inside her. Just as her first orgasm started to subside, Brynjolf began working her clit over again, sending her into spasms of intense pain-pleasure as he worked her up to another. As she shook from the aftershocks, she felt Ulfberth pull out of her mouth, commanding Adrianne to pick up where she left off. She watched in awe, attempting to focus as Brynjolf once again toyed with her clit and fucked her into a frenzy, as Adrianne effortlessly took the entirety of Ulfberth’s cock into her mouth and throat in one fell swoop.

Nadine’s eyes glazed over as Ulfberth grabbed Adrianne’s hair and slid his cock into her mouth, up to the hilt, and fucked her throat. Having more experience than Nadine, she took him in easily, knowing how to position herself and manage her breathing in order to accommodate her master’s wishes. Relentlessly, Ulfberth thrust his cock into his wife’s dutiful throat, as Brynjolf met his intensity thrusting into Nadine’s tight, wet cunt. Both men finding it increasingly hard to hold back, Ulfberth was the first to let go, bellowing out with a berserker-like intensity as he shot hot, thick cum down Adrianne’s throat. Pulling Nadine’s head closer to him with his free hand, he quickly withdrew his still spurting cock from Adrianne’s mouth, putting it into Nadine’s so that she could have a taste. Witnessing this act of depravity was enough to finally tip Brynjolf over the edge, who came hard inside Nadine, thrusting deep and grinding against her cunt and buttocks, exhausted and sweating and growling sweet filthy nothings in her ear.

Completely covered in a mixture of sweat, saliva and each others’ bodily fluids, the air around them heavy with the scent of sex, they collapsed. Each satiated and spent, tangled up in each other, a mess of hair and flesh and limbs. Nadine felt more serene than she had ever felt. Euphoric and content, she drifted off into a long, blissful sleep.

Chapter Text

Nadine stirred, taking a while to come to and remember where she was.

A bed. Adrianne and Ulfberth’s bed. The same bed she’d witnessed them in, with the Redguard, the night she’d got caught.

Suddenly aware of her own nudity, she instinctively pulled the covers over herself, guarding her bare skin from being seen. Not that it mattered much now - both of them had seen every inch of her, whipped her arse raw, heard her whimper and beg and cry out her release. The familiar prickle of heat crept across Nadine’s skin as she recalled the events that had transpired.

“Glad to see you’re awake, pet. I trust you had a good rest?” Adrianne beamed at Nadine, her tone nurturing and kind.

Nadine could only nod.

Adrianne stood over a large, cast iron pot, stirring vigilantly. The scent of something hearty and delicious filled the room, making Nadine’s stomach rumble. As if reading her mind, Adrianne gestured to the pot. “Hungry?”

“Famished,” Nadine admitted. Famished and completely confounded.

“If you’d like to freshen up, Ulfberth can draw you a bath upstairs - it’s not the most thorough, but it’s a bit cold to bathe outside. We can eat when you’re done,” she continued as if this situation was the most natural thing in the world.

Nadine lowered herself into the bath, her mind reeling. What in Oblivion was going on? She had so many more questions than answers, and every situation that she had got into over the past few days had grown more outlandish, more surreal. Now here she was in a stranger’s home, cleaning the remnants of their deviance off her still-flushed skin, and about to sit down to a nice, wholesome meal with them. The whole situation was profoundly odd, to say the least.

“Evening, girl,” Ulfberth greeted cheerily as Nadine resurfaced. “Get you a drink?”

Her face a picture of surprise, she eventually answered. “...Yeah, thanks.”

Sitting a bottle of mead down in front of her, he addressed her quizzical expression. “You’ve probably got a fair few questions, eh? We’ll do our best to answer them all over dinner.”

Nadine sat jaw agape, spoon loaded with beef stew stalled part way between bowl and mouth as she attempted to take in what Adrianne had just told her.

Their meeting had not been accidental. Everything from Nadine’s discovery of the pair’s tryst with the Redguard man to their meeting with her earlier was carefully set up by Brynjolf, Adrianne and Ulfberth. It was a test of sorts; them sensing something inherent in Nadine that even she had not yet recognised, seeking to coax it out gently, invisibly setting the scene and guiding the hand of fate as she delved deeper into her own sexual discovery. The first test had been within these very walls; they knew that her only given task was to retrieve the book and leave, which is why they waited just within earshot, hoping that her own curiosity and lust would overpower her usually sensible intentions and make her take the bait.

“That was the beauty of the plan,” remarked Brynjolf, “It only progressed if you did.”

“We wanted you to be in control without knowing what was going on behind the scenes,” Adrianne explained. “That was the most important part in all of this - you had to truly want this, and going forward, it had to be your choice. That’s why we made you ask to be punished, beg to be fucked, and ultimately choose whether you decided to submit or not. We also did our best to create clear boundaries, and remind you that while we were telling you what to do, you still had the freedom to leave whenever you wished.”

Adrianne sipped her ale, continuing. “Ordinarily we would do this by clearer, more obvious means,” Adrianne stressed, giving Ulfberth and Brynjolf a stern look. “But the nature of our introduction meant we needed to take a more...cloaked approach. We knew that these were uncharted territories, so we ultimately wanted you to feel as safe as you could to explore them. Every step we made was carefully calculated, and luckily for us, not only did you not go running, you ventured further every time, and came back for more.”

Nadine ate her stew, her mind working overtime to process the information.

“Why, though? I’m still not sure I understand what’s happening.”

“That’s understandable - it’s a lot to take in,” Adrianne smiled, attempting to be reassuring while knowing how all this must sound.

“We’re sorry for the cloak and dagger, lass, but we doubted you’d have been up for trying most of what we did had we approached you in a more open manner.” Brynjolf grinned apologetically, seemingly impervious to Adrianne’s glare.

“I know we’ve hardly started off on the most honest or trustworthy foot, but we can all promise you that we’ll aim to be as transparent as possible from now on if you’re still interested in dealing with us.”

Nadine nodded, slowly but surely coming to terms with Adrianne’s words.

“The three of us, as well as several others, belong to a group of people - I suppose you could call us a guild of sorts. We enjoy engaging in the kinds of things that you’ve been exploring over the past few days, as well as several others. It’s our own personal sanctum; somewhere away from prying eyes where we can feel free and safe to submit to our desires.”

Adrianne continued. “So here’s our proposition, Nadine. We’d like to extend to you an invitation to join our group - we think you’d be a perfect fit. If it doesn’t interest you, that’s perfectly okay: as far as we’re concerned your end of the bargain with us has been fulfilled, and you’ve more than earned the book. We also hope that you’ve had as good a time as we all did. If, on the other hand, you’d like to continue exploring your newfound urges, meet with us at Honningbrew Meadery on Fredas at sundown, and we’ll be happy to welcome you into the fold - following your initiation, of course.”

Nadine’s head swam, slightly overwhelmed at all this new information but already thrilled at the idea of more potential liaisons like the past few days.

“Weigh it over, sleep on it,” Ulfberth offered, his tone kind and supportive. “If you’ve got any questions you know where to find us.”

Thanking them all for their hospitality, Nadine set off to the nearest inn, eager to rest and absorb the information she had just obtained. Sated in every sense, she settled in the spartan room, feeling slightly melancholic at being alone for the first time in days. She reached into her bag to retrieve the Daedric tome, and came across a small, leather satchel, its contents clinking as she pulled it out of her bag.

Think you earned this more than I did, lass, read the note attached, spend it well. Maybe on some boots of muffling?

It was a small satchel of septims - the same one, she recalled, that Brynjolf had wagered for the book should Adrianne and Ulfberth have accepted cash-based compensation. Nadine smiled at Brynjolf’s joke - truthfully, his cheeky, charismatic wit was one of the things she found so attractive about him. For a member of the Thieves Guild, whose entire livelihood and raison d’etre was situated around the septim? It seemed like a fairly grand gesture, and Nadine was touched.

She missed him; his auburn hair like an autumnal forest floor, his roguish smile that travelled from the curl of his soft lips to his twinkling, emerald eyes, his flirtatious banter delivered in that velvet-smooth, lilting voice that still made her weak at the knees. Gods, she missed him. Her mind wandered to their last encounter, his hands wrapped around her hips, completely at his mercy as he whispered, soft yet sinister in her ear: “That’s what you get for calling me a common thief, lass.”

Nadine’s body prickled and blazed with the familiar heat of shame and arousal mingling, patches of pinkness forming across her half-bare skin. A gentle breeze blew in through the inn window, heightening the bumps that formed across her flesh, as well as her own excitement. Her hand moved as if of its own volition, tracing the spots that had become heated, mapping her own desire out - chasing the source of both her lust and shame. As she grew nearer, eventually clasping down on her own release, she realised that they were one and the same.

Honningbrew Meadery, sundown on Fredas. She would be there.

The rest of the week dragged on as she waited for Fredas to arrive. She continued with her initial assignment, discovering that the book was indeed written in the Daedric alphabet. Having knowledge too scant to fully decipher it, she turned to the one place she always did when seeking answers: The Arcanaeum.

Urag, the resident librarian, marvelled at the book - and then rather suspiciously demanded to know exactly how she’d acquired such a disturbing item. Luckily Drevis, the college’s resident Illusion mage took a keen interest in the tome and didn’t ask any questions about its origin. She and the Dunmer both pored over the pages that told of the Lord of Domination, Harvester of Souls, Father of Coldharbour and creator of vampirism, and the myriad twisted and degrading ways he forced mortals to submit to his will. Nadine shifted uncomfortably in her seat, finding the subject matter somewhat difficult.

“Molag Bal’s an especially difficult Daedra, and one that my people have quite the detailed past with,” Drevis remarked, scratching his pointed beard. “One of the Four Corners of the House of Troubles, but that’s a story that’s best left for another time.”

Nadine gathered her notes and made her exit, deciding that was enough work for today. Letting her mind wander back to the meeting that awaited her, she decided that maybe she would spend the money Brynjolf had given her on something nice.

Fredas evening, she unwrapped her new purchases - Brynjolf’s little gift had been well spent. She traced her fingers lightly over the soft, ivory silk, handling the dainty undergarments and stockings with a gentle care as she meticulously wiggled herself into them. She laced up the corset, admiring how the colour complimented her skin - the two pure and pale, yet the latter showing up every brush of heat, excitement or embarrassment she felt. Catching a glimpse of her reflection in the window pane, she blushed at how good she looked - like a present waiting to be unwrapped. Even when she was fully dressed, she felt a surge of powerful lust, knowing she was the only one who knew what laid underneath. For now, at least.

Nadine arrived at Honningbrew just as the torchbugs and luna moths were beginning to appear, the sun having retreated into the clouds that hung overhead. Adrianne and Ulfberth stood outside, next to the brewhouse door. As she nervously approached, Ulfberth enfolded her in a lover’s embrace, Adrianne stepping forward to join them. Nadine sighed as she gripped onto the pair, breathing in their comforting scents. She hadn’t realised just how much she’d missed them.

“This way, pet.”

Opening the heavy, enforced door, the three wandered through the brewhouse, descending the stairs and walking through a dark, dull hallway lined with kegs upon kegs full of mead. Eventually, reaching another door, they turned the key, hearing a loud satisfying clunk as it unlocked.

“Welcome to our Sanctum, Nadine. Make yourself at home.”

Nadine looked round, taking in everything that surrounded her. In front of her was a long, grand dining table housing a banquet fit for a Jarl, with about a dozen or so figures sitting around it - some whom she realised she recognised. Brynjolf was one of them, as was the Redguard stranger. Tucked away in the corner of the room was an alchemist’s table with shelves of salves and potions, as well as a well stocked ingredient supply; in the opposite corner of the room, a fire burned brightly in the hearth, large, cosy looking armchairs surrounding it, bookshelves lining the nearby wall. Some ways behind the banquet table and down a set of steps, she could make out some smithing tools - workbench, forge, anvil - as well as several pieces of furniture similar to the bench she’d gotten so acquainted to the other day, only far more daunting looking. She saw what looked to be shackles, a large cross-like device, some sort of rack...? It looked not unlike a torture chamber. A shiver ran down her spine.

“So, is this the one?” a sultry, sinister voice asked. The source of the voice was an achingly gorgeous woman; tall, flaxen-haired and somehow terrifying to Nadine in ways she couldn’t quite figure out yet.

“Oh yeah, that’s definitely her,” the Redguard smirked, a wicked glint in his eye.

“We’re so glad you could make it, Nadine,” Adrianne beamed. “Come sit down with everyone - they’re so eager to meet the new protegé.”

Nadine perched herself next to Brynjolf, his familiar, cheerful face serving as a beacon of comfort in more unfamiliar surroundings. One by one, she was introduced to the bodies sitting around the table.

The mystery Redguard and statuesque blonde were Nazir and Astrid, and were apparently members of the infamous Dark Brotherhood. That would explain the ominous looking red and black armour, Nadine thought. And the feeling of unease. If they noticed her discomfort, they didn’t show it, merely smiling at her in a slightly unnerving manner.

The woman sitting next to them wore armour matching Brynjolf’s, but her demeanour was in direct contrast. Her severe face was framed by a shock of almost white-blonde hair, matched by her pallid skin. “Vex,” she announced brusquely. “I work with your ‘travelling companion’ down in the Thieves’ Guild.”

Nadine blushed, quickly muttering a greeting in response to the woman’s pointed comment. Thankfully, nobody around the table seemed to notice and the introductions went on.

The next was a redhead woman, her cheeks rosied and skin sunkissed. She ran her fingers through her tangled, flowing locks as she spoke. “Aela. I’m with the Companions. You may have heard of us; we train up at Jorrvaskr.”

“I have,” Nadine admitted. “I actually visited once to test my mettle but was told you didn’t accept mages.”

“Their loss, Miss Rielle,” a wonderfully resonant voice interrupted. “Giraud Gemane - I believe we may have met during your brief term at the Bard’s College?” Turning to face the man, Nadine realised she did remember him - a Breton like herself, with slight stubble peppering his distinguished, handsome face. He raised his tankard to his mouth, draining it empty, then gestured to Ulfberth.

“Ysolda, Ingun! Fetch some more drink for our guests.”

It was only then that Nadine noticed the two serving girls - one with short red hair, the other with flowing black locks similar to her own. They were both scantily clad, their dark tavern dresses revealing more than they covered, the hems barely skimming their thighs as the fabric scarcely traced over their breasts. They also both wore leather collars around their necks; a small silver ring gleaming in the centre.

“Where’s the mage,” Vex asked Adrianne, “still doing his disappearing act?”

“Ah, I thought we were missing someone! Of course. Nadine, there’s someone you’ve still to meet, although I understand that you’re already acquainted.”

From out of nowhere, the figure of a man appeared by Adrianne’s side, handsome, bearded and silver haired - Drevis Neloren, the Illusion tutor from the Mage’s College who had helped her translate the book the other day. Nothing should surprise her at this point, yet it did.

“Disappearing act? You should be so talented, fetcher.” Drevis smirked at Vex before focusing his attention on Nadine. Taking her hand, he introduced himself in this new context: “Charmed to make your acquaintance again, dear girl.”

Vex rolled her eyes at Drevis’ showy entrance; Nadine, on the other hand, was rather taken by it, if a little shaken by the fact that she had no idea how long he had been there, invisible and watching.

“Now that you’ve met everyone, I thought it might be a good idea to go over the basics of what it is we do here,” Adrianne said, “as well as establishing some house rules. Then we can have some fun.”

“Any guild or group is only as strong as the bonds within it. The most important tenets are trust, safety and consent - this is what separates us from Molag Bal and his worshippers. That doesn’t mean you won’t be pushed to every one of your limits, however. But, within these walls, your main tool of control is what we call a safeword. If you feel like anything at all is too much - a scene is too intense, you’re too scared, pain is getting too much, something just doesn’t feel right - use your safeword. Whoever is in charge of you at that time will stop what they’re doing immediately and make sure you’re okay. Ultimately, the safety and wellbeing of everybody in this sanctuary is our top priority, so we’ll all do our best to make sure you’re taken care of during and after a scene.”

“Our vetting process for membership is very particular, as you probably noticed. Now, I know it probably looks like our ranks are filled with rogues and assassins, but I can promise you that I would trust any one of these people with my life. Having said that, if you ever feel uncomfortable with anything that’s said or done during a scene, please come and see either me or Ulfberth and tell us what happened. Again, everyone’s safety in this sanctuary is our top priority and vigilance is paramount; we will not tolerate abuse from anyone, whether they’ve been inside these walls five minutes or five years. Also, this should go without saying, but discretion is vital. You absolutely cannot mention this to anyone outside these walls. Is that all understood?”

“Absolutely, Adrianne.”

“Any questions?”

Nadine had a few. “What’s my safeword?”

“Good question. It can be anything you want. Ingun there uses ‘Nightshade’ when she wants to stop, and ‘Nirnroot’ when she wants her Master to slow down or to lower the intensity a bit. She’s our alchemist as well as being a wonderful little pain slut, so the words were a perfect fit.”

“Those words sound good. Can I use them?”

Ingun’s voice chimed over, “Go ahead.”

“Thanks. I have another question.”

“Go on, pet.”

“Why here? For a dungeon, I mean.”

“Why not? Central location, close to Warmaiden’s, great mead...had to clean it up a bit before we moved in and do some light pest control, but other than that it’s a pretty perfect location, wouldn’t you agree?”

Chomping on a thick chunk of horse haunch, Aela piped up, “I suggested we make our home in the Underforge - it’s nice and cosy, plus it’s close by. But everyone said it smelled like wet dog.”

“Yeah, plus that massive smelly chalice in the centre of the room was possibly off-putting for new recruits,” Vex chimed in sarcastically. “What was in that thing?”

Nadine felt Adrianne’s kind words and the other members’ banter comfort her in equal measure. “It’s a great location,” Nadine conceded, grinning. “Plus, I’m a sucker for Honningbrew. I’m sold.”

Adrianne sighed. “Any other burning questions?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Wonderful. Then it’s time for your initiation.”

Chapter Text

“Grab a drink. Make yourself comfortable in the arena. We’ll be down in a moment, after we’ve got ourselves ready.”

Nadine slowly descended the stairs to the dungeon arena, marveling at the various pieces of furniture on display. She noticed several more set-pieces - an ornate four poster bed with sturdy shackles affixed to the headboard, surrounded by matching armchairs and a large desk; a cage big enough to fit a fully grown person; what looked to be a set of stocks, like one found in a  town square, spaces for one’s hands and head; and an entire series of complicated looking pulleys, rigs and ropes. Tentatively, she perched herself on one of the armchairs and sipped her bottle of Honningbrew, steadying her nerves. Her whole body jangled; sparks of delicious energy surged through her.

The crowd returned in more suitable attire. Ingun and Ysolda were naked all but for the dark leather collars adorning their necks, followed by Astrid in a skintight leather bodysuit and boots, who led a naked-but-for-a-collar Aela on a leash, her loose copper strands tangling in the chain. Adrianne and Ulfberth both wore harnesses with matching leather and metalwork, the belts and straps outlining their magnificently proportioned physiques; Vex alongside the pair in a leather catsuit adorned with metal buckles and rings, the metalwork similar to that of the pair’s harnesses. Brynjolf and Nazir both wore studded leather codpieces, accentuating their not-inconsiderable endowments; Giraud wore his usual attire - a well-tailored lace-up shirt, with a pair of worn leather breeches and boots to complete the ensemble. Drevis followed him, wearing a simple, darker-coloured version of his everyday mage’s robes.

Ulfberth’s voice rumbled out across the arena. “You’ve had plenty of time to take a look around, so I think we’re ready to start your initiation, eh girl?”

Nadine swallowed, terrified and thrilled in equal measure. “I think so.”

“Good. First off, a couple of rules - as a potential initiate, you are to refer to your male superiors as “Sir” and female superiors as “Miss” at all times, is that understood?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Okay. Next, you remember and understand your safewords?”

“Yes, Sir - ‘Nightshade’ for stop, ‘Nirnroot’ for slow down.”

“Good. You understand that as part of your initiation, you are to obey your superiors without question and do whatever is asked of you by the members of this dungeon, unless you feel the need to use your safewords?”

“Yes, Sir.”

Silence for a moment, then Ulfberth’s gentle, soothing exterior vanished as he turned away from her and addressed the two naked women. “Ingun, Ysolda! Undress the girl.”

Nadine squirmed as she was descended upon, feeling the laces on her dress being roughly tugged open and her dress and petticoat tugged away. Hands pawed over the pretty undergarments she’d picked out and put on so meticulously for the occasion as soft lips kissed and nipped at her exposed neck. Nadine looked over at the crowd as she stood, obedient and exposed, feeling their eyes pierce into her as they leered at her almost nude body.

“Such beautiful undergarments you wore for us, slut. Shame they need to come off.”

As Ysolda cupped her hands around Nadine’s waist, deftly loosening the laces of her corset, Ingun got to work on her suspender belt, undoing the buttons and pulling down her soft silk stockings. Within a couple of minutes, Nadine was nude at the hands of these two skilled maidens, wondering how in Oblivion they’d managed it. She suddenly felt very exposed, and instinctively moved her hands to cover her more private parts.

“Hands by your sides, girl,” Ulfberth barked. Like a shot, her hands returned to their original position.

“Climb up onto the table, so we can take a closer look at our prize.”

Nadine mounted the desk, situating herself on it on all fours, painfully aware of just how exposed she was in this position. Nothing was hidden - breasts displayed, bottom in the air and legs open, there could be no protecting her modesty, nor could there be any denying of her own arousal. She could already feel how embarrassingly wet she was getting and knew anyone looking would be able to see the same.

The crowd descended upon her like vultures upon carrion, eager to sink their teeth into the soft, tender flesh of new meat. Circling around the table, Nadine felt the hungry crowd take her in with their eyes initially, then their hands as they groped and fondled her, her supple body being teased and pinched, her most sensitive parts being manipulated in both delicious and torturous ways. Nadine’s head swam as she heard voices whisper in her ear all the things they wanted to do to her and with her; how lucky she was to be able to come whenever she wanted this evening, because once she was theirs her orgasms would be under their control; how they bet she liked being on display because she was such a naughty, depraved little slut. By the end of the crowd’s workings, Nadine was left thoroughly excited, quivering and whimpering on the desk, her cunt dripping with intense desire, already painfully desperate for the release she so craved.

“Get to the bench. Prepare yourself for the gauntlet.”

Trembling and drunk with lust, Nadine stumbled over to the padded leather bench, climbing onto it and assuming the position once more. She knew she was about to get punished, but she had no idea how or by whom. As Ulfberth fastened her wrists together with a thick leather strap, he elaborated.

“Here’s what’s about to happen. You’re about to get punished with a variety of different instruments of pain, ranging from our hands to a particularly nasty bamboo cane. Each of us will deliver five strikes with our favourite weapon, escalating in intensity until you reach the end of the gauntlet or use your safeword. If you make it all the way to the end, we have something special in store for you - a prize of sorts. Understood?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“I’ll start things off, then. Don’t worry, girl - I’ll make these five count.”

As soon as he’d spoke, Ulfberth rained down five steadfast blows in quick succession, causing Nadine to utter out little yelps of pain and surprise, the yelps turning into purrs as the slight sting faded into the pleasant heat she’d learned to love, fuelling her already burning arousal. She hungered to have him punish her properly again, and would have gladly taken five dozen more spankings from his strong, unyielding hands.

“My turn next. Can’t wait to punish this luscious arse again, lass…”

Nadine melted as she heard Brynjolf’s soft voice, remembering how he’d opened her eyes to the pleasures of spanking in the first place, struggling to contain her moans as he delivered her five blows, firm and harsh yet lingering just slightly between each spank. She recalled how he had made her lay across his lap, feeling his erection grow as he punished her, and wondered if his cock was reacting in a similar manner at the moment. Her thought was interrupted by the feeling of soft, leathery tails tracing across her bottom, priming her for her next round.

“Hope you haven’t forgotten me and my favourite weapon already, pet.”

Adrianne’s floggings followed, immediately taking Nadine back to her being punished in the homestead - being made to count each flogging out, then ask for another. Her eyes glazed over as she savoured the familiar sting of the delicious tails biting into her. Still savouring the delightfully erotic stinging pain, she had to resist the temptation to beg her irresistible mistress to deliver a few more. Wondering who was next, she felt a long, sharp nail gently graze her skin as they spoke.

“You make such inviting prey when you’re tied up and bent over.”

Nadine assumed the woman flogging her was Aela, both for her words and for the brutal blows she was giving her. These five stung more than Adrianne’s had, and made her cry out in pain slightly, despite her best efforts. She truly did feel like Aela’s prey, her bare vulnerable arse presented to this still relative stranger, wanting to be the game of the gorgeous huntress.

“Now for the paddle,” a smooth, masculine voice crooned behind her. “Ysolda, why don’t you start?”

“With pleasure, Giraud.”

Ysolda’s paddlings were sure and firm - not as brutal as Ulfberth’s had been, but definitely more intense than they had started out, and just hard enough to deliver a decent sting especially on top of the previous spankings. As she swung the paddle, she emitted small squeaks of effort, and Nadine’s sharp yelps of pain were punctuated by Ysolda’s sounds of satisfaction from a job well done, which only served to fan the flames of Nadine’s burning lust. Her arse reddened as it was subjected to more and more punishment, gradually growing less bearable.

“An excellent start, but let me show you how it’s really done.”

As she heard the paddle swish through the air and make contact with the soft flesh of her buttocks, she immediately felt the intense thud of pain course through her body; the cumulative pain of the past twenty-five blows finally catching up to her as one surefire blow was delivered hard and fast to her tender, aching arse. Giraud clearly knew how to administer a good spanking. Gasping and cursing as the other four were given, she began to genuinely dread the last two legs of the gauntlet.

Nadine had no idea which instrument of torture was next, but she hoped and prayed it wasn’t the cane. She wasn’t sure how many people were left, but she knew she wasn’t anywhere near fifty strikes yet, so she had to hope that there was something that was less cruel than a cane being used on her.

She heard it before she felt it or saw it, whooshing through the air. It sounded terrifying, as did the voice of the woman wielding it; steely, icy and sardonic.

“Try not to yell out too much when I use this on you, princess.”

The leather of the riding crop smacked down upon Nadine’s arse with force, causing her to buck up in agony. Shockwaves ran through her body, the sting of the crop bringing tears to her eyes as she struggled to adjust to the new sensation of sharp, stinging pain. Vex let out a low, cruel laugh as she delivered the next four smacks of the crop, clearly enjoying the effects of her favourite torture instrument on the new recruit, passing it over to Astrid when she was done.

“Feel free to cry out all you want, little one,” Astrid spoke softly, almost whispering in Nadine’s ear as she caressed her face gently with the crop. “It only makes me whip you harder.”

The crop whooshed through the air, this time making contact with the leather of the bench a good foot away from Nadine’s body - however, the impact of the sound was enough for her to believe she had been struck for a moment, and made her yelp out as if she had been. Her body eventually catching up with her mind and realising the mind trick Astrid had played on her, Nadine winced and readied herself for the real five blows, recognising the true power of psychological torture alongside physical. Astrid’s strikes with the crop were every bit as scary as Nadine thought they would be and, as she bit her lip in an attempt to be quiet lest she spur her torturer on, she tried to hold herself steady and breathe through the pain.

She knew she was nearing the end, and therefore the prize. She didn’t know what it was, but she knew that she wanted it. She was so close. However, she also knew that meant she was near the cruel bite of the cane she’d heard about, which she was dreading. The crop had been bad enough. This was the last leg, and she could do this. She had to do this.

As she repeated the last phrase over and over in her head, she heard Ingun speak.

“I’m glad you liked my safewords so much. Let’s see if I can get you to use them.”

The first cane strike slapped across Nadine’s buttocks firmly, making her howl out like a wounded animal, the pain powerful and precise. It was clear that Ingun, while submissive and masochistic like Nadine, also had a rather sadistic streak to her which became more and more apparent with every strike of the cane that she gave. Each blow hit harder than the last, Ingun spurred on by Nadine’s yelps of anguish, pushing her to her limit. Breath ragged and close to tears but still unwavering, she awaited her final five canings.

“So close, yet so far,” Nazir crooned, his velvety smooth voice somehow both enchanting and terrifying. “I can’t wait to break you.”

One. Nadine felt as if she was being flayed with a weapon of Daedric proportions; her body consumed by flame, her arse throbbing. Her whole body shook as she shrieked out, an unholy noise of genuine gut wrenching agony.

Two. Nazir’s strikes seemed to hit with more of a whipping bite - he clearly had a technique perfected, and knew how to make his victims suffer. Nadine was currently suffering dearly at the hands of his torture device, and was on the precipice of breaking.

Three. As the cane slapped down on Nadine’s now red, welted bottom, she broke down into tears, finally having reached her breaking point.

“Nadine. Do you need to stop, or use your safeword?”

Through her racking sobs, she thought for a moment, still in pain but desperate to reach the end.

“No, S-sir.”

“Are you sure?”

“Y-yes please, I want to g-get to th-the end...”

Four. The penultimate caning struck down with an intense force - not as cruel as the last she’d received, but still harsh enough to bite, and bite hard. She let herself cry, allowing herself the psychic release she hadn’t even realised she’d denied herself.

Five. The last strike slashed down on her bottom with a fury unlike anything she’d ever felt. Sobbing through the pain, she felt it wash over her, the waves of tears a catharsis, a release she hadn’t even realised she’d needed. After what felt like forever, the storm subsided, leaving her feeling calm, serene, almost weightless.

“Very well done,” Nazir’s voice rang out, much less sinister than before - a tone of genuine approval now present. “You made it all the way to the end, and I did not go easy. I know that seemed harsh, but your behind notwithstanding, I’m sure you feel much better now, do you not?”

Hating to admit it, she agreed. “Yes, Sir. I feel...lighter, somehow.”

“Wonderful. Plus, you’ve successfully passed your initiation, which means you’re one of us now. It also means you get a reward, but for now you should probably rest for a bit. You’ve been through a lot, body and mind, and you’ll need to recover.”

Nadine was conflicted. She wanted her prize, badly. However, deep down, she knew Nazir was right - she had just spent Gods knew how long sobbing her heart out, her arse still ached, and the rest of her body wasn’t far behind. Reluctantly, she conceded she did perhaps need to rest. Letting Nazir and Ingun lead her over to the bed and lay her down on her stomach, she sank into the soft bedding, feeling her tense body relax.

“Ingun, fetch the salve for our new initiate.”

Nazir murmured words of encouragement to Nadine as he removed her wrist restraints, his demeanor in stark contrast to the terrifyingly sadistic man who had been caning her moments previously. The cruel, merciless figure was replaced with someone reassuring, kind, human . Nadine struggled to wrap her mind around it all. Perhaps sensing her perplexion, he attempted to offer his perspective.

“Struggling to adjust to the scary Alik’r assassin being so nice and caring all of a sudden?”

Nadine’s eyes darted downward, not wanting to admit this was the case.

“It’s okay, I understand. It must seem like the most backward thing in the world for a blood-hungry sadist like myself to have a nurturing, human side. That’s almost scarier than the fact that I kill people in cold blood for a living.”

Nazir continued. “Here’s the thing, though. People aren’t one dimensional creatures - they’re multifaceted and complex, often having characteristics that on the surface seem contradictory. Think about some of the people you’ve met on your travels - I’m willing to bet a lot of them have surprised you by transcending your initial expectations of what you thought they’d be, am I right?”

She realised he was, on numerous occasions - the gentle, kind Shadowscale; Brynjolf the thief giving up his coin as a token of his gratitude; even herself, whom others had commented on as private, perhaps even innocent.

“Point being, sometimes dichotomous traits can coexist in the same person. A lot of times, it’s what gives that person and their experiences so much flavour. This happens to be one of those times.”

“Okay,” Nadine said tentatively, “I think I understand.”

“Take all the time you need to explore what that means to you.”

Ingun returned with the salve, Ulfberth also in tow. “How’s the new initiate doing?”

“I’m good,” Nadine responded, her voice a gentle singsong.

“Great. Well done in surviving the gauntlet, girl - that’s no mean feat,” Ulfberth said to Nadine, his praise immediately sending a warm glow throughout her body. “You’ve more than earned your prize. But first, let’s take care of this poor, punished bottom.”

“-And her poor, punished bottom!” Ingun quipped, giggling at her own joke.

Pouring the salve onto her reddened, welted behind, Ulfberth worked the cream in with his skilled, work-worn hands, careful to be gentle as he did so. She really had received a harsh punishment, as was customary for the gauntlet - a slow burn, as the instruments of torture built up from tame to evil. It was a lesson in sadomasochism; the first attempt to bend and break potential initiates, to test their limits. It also tended to deplete them of their reserves, so Ulfberth knew it was crucial to employ the correct aftercare to ensure they recovered properly.

As his hands massaged in the salve, they released pulse after pulse of healing energy, helping Nadine restore her natural physical and mental reserves. Slowly, as she felt the hands massage, she felt herself grow less fatigued, the pain subsiding slightly. She could feel herself recover somewhat, unsure if this was due to rest or some other magical force. Looking around, she could see herself be surrounded by a gentle golden glow, twinkling soft ribbons of arcane light wrapping around her nude body, bandaging her wounds. Ulfberth must be healing her!

“You know Restoration magic?” she asked, genuinely surprised at the hulking Nord man employing something mainly associated with dainty priestesses.

“Yep. It’s an indispensable tool down here. You didn’t think you and Drevis were the only ones with Magicka knowledge, did ya?” Ulfberth chuckled. Nadine realised, once again, that Nazir was right - there was much more to people than met the eye.

“It feels wonderful,” Nadine murmured dreamily as Ulfberth continued to massage the salve deep into her tender arse. Attempting to fight it off, she eventually succumbed to a deep, blissful sleep. When she finally awoke, unsure if it was minutes or hours later, the others waited for her, Ulfberth holding a leather collar adorned with metal rings and embossed with her name. Wrapping it around her neck and fastening it in place, it fit like a glove.

“Welcome to the fold, initiate. Ready for your prize?”

Nadine laid in wait for what was about to come as Ingun and Ysolda circled the bed, turning her over onto her back and placing her wrists into the shackles on the headboard, then tying her ankles to the posts at the foot of the bed with leather reins. She was entirely restrained, completely helpless and utterly exposed, and could feel herself growing wetter already. She longed to have her cunt toyed with, to be used by whoever wanted to have their wicked way with her, to feel her tight, wet hole be filled up and shot full of warm, thick cum. Now torturing herself with her own thoughts, she writhed on the sheets, instinctively moving to pull her legs together but realising as she felt the restraints tug against her that she couldn’t.

Giggling at her obvious arousal and discomfort, the two women teased Nadine, discussing her predicament amongst themselves.

“I wonder what the naughty little minx is thinking,” Ysolda mused, her amber eyes glowing like the embers of a warm hearth, taking in every inch of Nadine’s body.

“Something interesting, I bet,” Ingun smirked, “How I’d love to ruin my training and risk a spanking to give her something to really get hot and bothered over.”

“I’m sure you would!” Ysolda said, giggling coquettishly.

“Ladies,” a warm, masculine voice interjected from an armchair adjacent to the bed. “If I may kindly interrupt.”

The ladies shrieked out in surprise as they heard the voice, followed by the figure of Drevis Neloren appearing in the armchair, lounging and comfortable, having been there for Gods only knew how long. “Fucking Drevis!”

“That’ll be ten strikes, Ingun. You can return to your Masters now.”

The crowd had erupted in laughter at the girls’ surprise at Drevis’ signature entrance, and were struggling to contain their mirth as the girls returned, red faced and grumbling. As the cacophony subsided somewhat, Drevis spoke once more, this time to Nadine.

“I hope I didn’t startle you too much, my dear. I just can’t resist making a good entrance.”

Nadine looked closer at Drevis, drinking him in - a Dunmer, so it was hard to say how old he actually was, but he had certainly aged well. His pale, grey skin was offset with the most exquisite bone structure she had ever seen on anyone - male or female, man or mer - and was framed by a shock of almost white hair, well groomed and complemented by an equally neatly trimmed beard. His eyes twinkled, magic dancing in them, the wondrous arcana intensifying every time that devilish smile appeared on his lips. Distinguished and mysterious, Nadine realised just how attractive she actually found him.

“No problem, Sir.”

“I thought it might be a good ice breaker, since it’s a common ground for us...people watching, voyeurism. You’re a girl after my own heart.”

Nadine blushed, despite her escapades now being common knowledge to everyone in the dungeon.

“Tell me, sweet girl. Did you ever wonder how exactly you got caught on that evening?”

“I stood on a creaky floorboard, Sir.”

“Not quite, my sweet, not quite,” Drevis crooned, enjoying the suspense he was building. “You got caught because I stood on a creaky floorboard.”

“You were there?” Nadine asked, incredulous, although at this point she wondered why.

“I was indeed. We had to make sure you knew you had been caught - the humiliation was a major part of what made it so arousing, so it had to be just right. Invisibility is my forte, so I did my part, and voila.”

They had certainly put in the legwork and planning.

“Invisibility is an indispensable tool for someone with curious and perverted tastes like myself...and yourself, dear girl. That way, there’s no way for anybody to know if you’ve been watching them. For example, I could have watched you in any number of compromising positions - having some fun with our good friend Brynjolf here, or making amends with the lovely Adrianne and Ulfberth - and you would have no way of knowing.”

Nadine swallowed, not knowing if this was a bluff or if Drevis genuinely had been there in the background of several other of the things that had happened so far.

“Now, I wonder if this lascivious lady just likes to watch, or if she’d like to be watched too. Have you ever had the urge to have your naked form admired by a stranger, perhaps?”

Thinking back over the past few days, she could think of several examples. Still embarrassed to admit this truth out loud, she averted her eyes and spoke. “Yes, Sir.”

“Mmm, I thought as much. I can’t say I blame you - it would be a terrible thing to deprive the world of such a gorgeous sight. Luckily for you, we’re going to make that dream a reality tonight.”

Her skin prickled and burned as her cunt dripped with need.

“Please, Sir. Please fuck me, now.”

“So soon? We’re only just getting started, my dear.” Drevis smirked, vanishing before Nadine’s eyes.

What happened? Had she forfeited her prize by being too greedy? As she started to worry that she’d blown the whole thing, she felt something softly caress her sides, making her emit a soft moan. It was then that she realised this was an invisible Drevis, pleasuring her and making her squirm for the hungry crowd to see, their view completely unobstructed.

His hands continued to run over her smooth, sensitive skin, mapping out all of the parts that made her shudder most, lingering in places that made her gasp and moan longest. Wherever his hands weren’t busy, his mouth was getting to work - tongue flicking, lips kissing, teeth biting and grazing gently, eliciting the most delicious reactions from Nadine, who was writhing in equal parts agony and ecstasy, achingly desperate to come.

As he worked further downward, relishing the effects his attentive workings were evoking, he continued to tease Nadine further, inching slowly closer to the centre of her desire, her arousal painting a picture over her mound and thighs with her own cunt juices. The closer he moved toward her sopping, desperate cunt, the more she pulled against the restraints, attempting in vain to grind against her invisible suitor’s nimble appendages. For what seemed like forever, this torturous game continued, Nadine being teased to her very limit by Drevis, too terrified to beg for the release she so badly wanted lest she be denied further, being made to shake and quiver and drip in front of her hungry eyed peers, currently engaging in their own acts of depravity with each other. She grunted out, her noises guttural and anguished, everything about her evidence of just how badly in need of attention her poor cunt was. Sensing Nadine’s genuine, almost pathetic desperation, Drevis eventually decided to oblige.

He ran his fingers across her slit, feeling it hot and slick with her arousal and plunged them inside her in one fluid motion, making Nadine moan out in rapture. Gasping as phantom digits worked her over, Nadine was driven to the brink of orgasm then let back down slowly, only to be built back up all over again. If Drevis’ previous ministrations had seemed torturous at the time, they were a walk in the park compared to what was happening now. She begged, incoherent and rambling, words jumbling together as she desperately bargained with her Master to give her the release that she was certain she would lose her mind without.

Drevis’ tongue joining his fingers, he answered Nadine’s pained pleas, his saliva mingling with her own secretions and coating every inch of space between her legs. She was lust incarnate; her unseen lover’s skillful workings drew her closer to an orgasm of cataclysmic proportions as her sex gushed and contracted around him, giving the audience an exquisitely intimate view into the workings of her most private parts. He drank every drop of her in, savouring her like the sweetest wine before withdrawing his fingers and tracing them up to her full, sultry lips so that she could sample her own delights.

Lifting up her thighs, he let his body lean into hers as he pushed his long, hard cock into her soaking wet cunt, painstakingly slowly at first, then thrusting the remainder of himself in with meaningful intent. He continued stroking in and out, his cock gripped by her lips and coated with her slick juices, the spectral nature of his incantation providing the crowd a perfect view of exactly what was happening to Nadine.

As the onlookers watched, each pleasuring or being pleasured, they saw Nadine writhe on the bed in ecstasy, being worked over expertly. The flesh of her thighs gave just slightly where Drevis rested against them, her breast being manipulated and kneaded by an invisible hand as her nipple was bitten and pulled on. They watched, breaths ragged and eyes wide as her cunt stretched and contracted and gushed around what appeared to be nothing but demonstrably was not, over and over. Her hips ground against this spectral creature as her moans and screams filled the arena.

Nadine had lost count of the amount of orgasms she’d had. She didn’t know if she was capable of any more. Her entire body was a mess of nerve endings; her wires frazzled, her mind broken. She didn’t know if she could take any more fucking, but at the same time, she didn’t know if she ever wanted it to stop. As these thoughts began to take shape, another mammoth orgasm rumbled in her core, taking her over as Drevis continued to pound into her, his hand working wonderful arcane magic on her clit as his mouth nibbled at her stiff, sensitive nipple. As her cunt gripped around his cock, holding it in a vice grip, it pushed him over the edge; steadily, he shot his load into Nadine, the thick, creamy cum filling her up for all the crowd to see, withdrawing slowly to make sure it coated her all over.

Nadine purred, beside herself to have been used and displayed in such a debased and exhibitionistic manner, watching as the others continued to enjoy themselves to her image - Aela, still on her leash and pleasuring Astrid; Brynjolf and Giraud both using Ysolda, one in her cunt and the other in her arse; Nazir throat fucking Ingun; and Adrianne servicing Ulfberth and Vex. Drifting off to sleep for a second time, she thought, I really am a depraved slut. I truly am one of them.

She couldn’t be happier about it.

Chapter Text

It had been a week since Nadine Rielle had been whipped, collared and welcomed into the ranks of others who shared her dark desires. The weekend that followed her initiation had been more subdued; the others providing Nadine with much needed support and affection after the rough ritual, giving her a chance to settle in her new spiritual home and take in any valuable information housed within. She got to know them all a little better - seeing Vex’s icy exterior melt away somewhat as the two shared a bottle of spiced wine and bonded over their stories of growing up as headstrong young women, warming up to Astrid and Nazir as she witnessed their gentler, more nurturing sides. She truly felt a connection with these people as she talked to them, their stories fascinating her and revealing their own quirks, vulnerabilities and idiosyncrasies as they each unravelled their coloured histories. On the eve of Sundas, she left feeling uniquely enlightened, ready to explore Skyrim anew.

As she went about her business in the outside world over the next week - reading books, casting spells, exploring tombs - everything felt more vivid, more alive . She felt as if she were seeing the world for the very first time, as if reborn, rediscovering lands she had wandered through countless times before. Despite her new-found wonder, Nadine itched to return to her Sanctum and the denizens within it. She was surprised at how much she missed it already. By the time Fredas arrived, she galloped toward Honningbrew Meadery with a careless abandon, every bump and rock in the road making her cunt throb as she bumped up and down on her horse, struggling to contain herself. The journey was almost as thrilling as the destination, and by the time she arrived was already on the precipice of coming. Ulfberth opened the cellar door to see Nadine giggling, cheeks rosied and hair blown every which way.

“Well, isn’t this an interesting sight?” he grinned, picking her up and carrying her over his shoulder as she continued giggling mirthfully, delighted to be back where she belonged.

Within the Sanctum, the festivities were just beginning. Ysolda and Ingun bowed subserviently as they received their orders, collared and naked this time as they served the others their drinks. Giraud and Drevis sat around the fire lost within an animated conversation, Drevis excitedly gesturing towards the bookcase looming over them. Astrid and Vex sat at the end of the table, wrapped up in their own discussion. Vex’s usual frosty demeanour had given way to a vulnerability rarely seen - even she could not resist Astrid’s powerful, intoxicating allure. Across the table, Nazir and Brynjolf shared bawdy jokes and tales of their own debauched evenings in taverns across Tamriel as they quaffed their ale. Amber liquid splashed over onto the table as Nazir slammed his tankard onto the surface, howling in mirth. Jolted from their conversation, Vex and Astrid looked over, smirking at their bravado and chest puffing.

The first to notice Nadine’s entrance were Aela and Adrianne, quietly sipping wine and watching the door. Nadine got the impression they had been eagerly awaiting her arrival, the thought sending a shiver down her spine in anticipation. From her perch over Ulfberth’s shoulder, she saw their reaction to her entrance into the room, Aela grinning as Adrianne raised an eyebrow at the sight.

“I see my husband has provided a distinguished entrance worthy of our newest member,”  Adrianne exclaimed, as her husband propped Nadine before them.

Brushing down her skirt, Nadine felt her cheeks heat as she observed the woman’s eyes raking down her body.

Waving off her embarrassment, Adrianne continued. “You’ll be helping serve this week, so go along with Ysolda and Ingun and get ready.”

Nodding, Nadine followed the women as instructed, her eyes transfixed on the ladies’ round, peachy arses, mesmerised by the way they gently swayed and bounced as they walked. Already her head was swimming, lust consuming her, yearning to submit. With the same skillful manner they’d used during her initiation, Ysolda and Ingun made short work of disrobing Nadine and led her to what looked like a broken mead tank from the boilery. As she inhaled the aroma of heady florals and felt steam surround her, she realised that it was a makeshift bath.

Tentatively dipping her toe in to test the temperature, she lowered herself into the vessel gently, savouring the scents of the oils and the warmth of the water. As the ladies soaped her up, tending to her with a gentle care, she realised how long it had been since she had last had a proper bath, somewhere indoors and secluded. She relished the feeling of being treated like royalty, relaxing into Ysolda’s hands as the woman rubbed oil into her pinked skin and letting Ingun shave the hair from her nether lips with a razor-sharp dagger. Having both women pay such close, intimate attention to her body aroused her in ways she could neither describe nor comprehend, and as her secretions began to coat her now clean-shaven labia, the increased sensitivity was nearly enough to drive her over the edge.

Perfumed, freshly shaven and naked, all that was left was to be collared. Nadine ached to have her new favourite garment on - she loved everything that it signified, and how it made her feel while wearing it. Her obtaining the collar was a prize all in itself, and a privilege she didn’t take lightly. Eager to receive her collar and begin the evening’s activities, she gazed earnestly at her two mentors, who led the way back to the sanctum hall.

“Just in time, ladies,” Ulfberth smiled, motioning toward the empty bottles on the table. “We were starting to get thirsty.”

As Ysolda and Ingun sauntered off to fetch more drinks, Ulfberth led Nadine to a small display case, retrieving her collar from within. He chuckled at her eagerness, holding her hair back and fastening the collar snugly around her neck, making sure it was secure but still comfortable.

“How’s that feel?”

She purred, the familiar leather caressing her neck. “Perfect, Sir.”

“Good. Now, go fetch me an ale, wench.” Ulfberth punctuated his command with a firm slap of Nadine’s arse.

During dinner Nadine was made to fetch drinks, serve food and present herself in various manners. Her naked form was groped, fondled, spanked, flicked, teased and subject to the patrons’ whims. However, those present were aware of the rules, and her satisfaction was always kept a little too far away. By the end of the evening her body ached and her skin bruised like fruit, but the gnawing need between her legs was still ever-present. Restless, she waited along with Ysolda and Ingun for her orders.

“Nadine, if you would like to follow me to my chambers,” Giraud said, gentlemanly as ever. “It’s time to begin your training.”

Shelves and display racks surrounded them as the pair stepped into the room. Giraud’s chambers housed a desk, bench, armchairs and a plush cushioned bed by the opposite wall - designed specifically for one very particular sort of tutelage. It was the first time Nadine had been alone with someone since her encounters with Brynjolf, and the whole nature of the situation felt much more intimate and somehow more nerve-wracking than her previous liaisons. Shifting nervously on her feet, she felt her bare cunt lips rub against one another, slick with her excitement.

“So good to finally be alone with you, Miss Rielle. It’s wonderful to have another Breton among our numbers, especially one as enchanting and luscious as yourself.”

Blushing at the compliment, Nadine felt herself grow giddy at the silver tongued man’s attentions.

“Yes, I remember you from the Bards College...you were an extraordinarily proficient student. I recall thinking then how lovely your voice sounded reciting the Poetic Edda; how gifted your fingers were at plucking the strings of your lute.” Pausing for a second, he traced a finger across her naked form, lingering on the goose-pimpled flesh of her breast. “Even then, I hungered to see that mouth and those hands wrapped around my cock, to know if they were as talented at providing other kinds of pleasure.”

Every inch of Nadine dripped with desire, Giraud’s words painting an incredibly erotic picture.

“I hear from some very reliable sources that you do indeed possess an aptitude for such things. However, I prefer my research to be practical rather than theoretical, so I’d like to find out first-hand.”

He began undoing the laces on his tight breeches, Nadine eventually breaking eye contact to peer down. His manhood stood proudly, jerking upward, as if coaxing Nadine to pleasure it. She was only too happy to oblige, and began lavishing his cock with her mouth, putting her newfound skills to good use. Lapping the drops of salty fluid that formed on the head with fervour, she ran her tongue around it, tracing down the length of him before enveloping him fully in her mouth. While she did this, her hands kept busy at the base, stroking his firm shaft and gently cupping his balls. Her movements were precise and deliberate, every response Giraud made being an opportunity for her to learn what he liked and how best to please him. Moaning around his length as she took in more and more, she sucked fervently, insistent on showing her tutor how skilled a student she was.

“Very good work indeed,” Giraud crooned approvingly, guiding his cock out of Nadine’s mouth. “Still some training to do, but you have an aptitude, just as I suspected.”

Tucking his erect cock back into his trousers and refastening, he walked over to a nearby bookshelf, casually examining its contents.

“Now, what to start with?”

He picked up a small, brown leather-bound book from the shelf, flicking through the pages idly as he spoke.

“Sit at the desk over there, Miss Rielle.”

Obeying his command, she situated herself on the hardwood chair, hands resting on the desk, and awaited his instructions. He sat the book down in front of her; the cover gilded with golden bordering, surrounding the title: The Lusty Argonian Maid, Vol. 1.

“I’m assuming a lascivious minx such as yourself is familiar with this particular play?”

Nadine nodded. Everyone in Tamriel was familiar with this particular play, although few cared to admit it.

“Good. You’ll be a natural at reciting it, then. I’ll read the male parts, and you can read as the titular Lusty Maid. If at any point you stop reading, or don’t read to my satisfaction, you will be punished. Is that understood?”

It sounded straightforward so far, but Nadine knew there must be more to it than this. Nevertheless, she agreed. “Yes, Sir.”

“Excellent. You may begin.”

Nadine took a breath, and started reading, her voice clear and crisp. She had reached the third word before she felt something warm and wet brush across her cunt, making her cry out in a mixture of shock and pleasure. Struggling to regain composure as the movement persisted, she continued reading, her delivery of the dialogue significantly bumpier than was standard.

Nadine writhed in her seat, someone’s tongue lapping at her sopping cunt. Whoever it was, their task was simple: get Nadine to fail hers. Their finger traced along where their tongue had just been, entering the tight hole. They continued laving Nadine as she shuddered, feeling herself tense and throb at their attentions.

Giraud delivered his lines as he calmly observed Nadine get worked over by his undercover apprentice, her breasts heaving and breath ragged as she tried and failed to maintain composure. His mouth curled into a satisfied smile as he watched her trip over her lines, the pair of them knowing exactly what this would entail. She was rendered completely unable to deliver the penultimate line of the play as her orgasm crashed over her, hips bucking against the stranger’s face on the hardwood seat as her juices spilled out of her convulsing cunt, the intensity of her release making her forget her surroundings for a brief moment.

Giraud’s eyes burned with steely desire as he took her in; a wolf circling his supple prey. “Well, Miss Rielle...a rather subpar performance, don’t you think? One that will definitely require correction.”

Nadine burned with shame, disappointed in herself for having failed her task.

“Let’s recap. You lost your place, fumbled over words and tripped over lines on several occasions, and stopped reading the piece completely on your last line. Moreover, I believe this last offence was due to you having an orgasm - something you must learn to control, as these are at the behest of your Masters and Mistresses.”

Sitting on a large, resplendent armchair, Giraud brandished a mahogany paddle. She shuddered slightly at the sight of it, remembering the last time he had used it on her.

“Lay across my lap, slut.”

Prostrating herself on his knee, she braced herself for his retribution.

“I think ten strikes per cheek should do the trick. You remember your safewords?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Count.”

Breathless, she counted her paddlings, each stinging progressively more than the last, building from a pleasant thud to an almost unbearable throbbing pain. As always, the initial pain seared her flesh, hurting most at first then fading to a deliciously warm ache that aroused her like nothing else. She had no idea why she loved being spanked and punished this way, but it sent her into a submissive daze - there was something so ritualistic about counting out each one, asking for another, processing the pain, each strike intensifying as the number ascended. Before she knew it, she had reached the end of her penance, and secretly yearned to be punished some more.

“Good girl,” Giraud cooed, coaxing Nadine off his lap. “Let’s try that again, shall we?”

This time, Nadine was ordered to kneel on the desk. Ysolda waited there for her, grinning; face streaked with Nadine’s own excitement. That was one mystery solved, at least...

This time, the element of surprise was well and truly out of the equation. Having a better idea of what was in store for her, she was sure she could endure Ysolda’s workings on this attempt.

As she readied herself to read the text, she remembered when she had first discovered it - back when she was a teenager in school, she and her friends giggling nervously and blushing at the bawdiness. Now naked, freshly spanked and straddled across a beautiful, red-haired woman’s face, it suddenly seemed rather tame and innocent in comparison. Skin ablaze, she spoke clearly and confidently, feeling strangely empowered by her own newfound wantonness.

Barely had the first word left her mouth before Ysolda pounced, lapping at Nadine’s cunt with her skillful, eager tongue. More prepared for the onslaught this time, Nadine managed to keep composure as she continued to read, the woman’s delicious workings making her lean into the character more. She was certain she would be able to control herself, even when Giraud moved closer to deliver his lines, now being mere inches away from her, his gorgeously smooth, seductive voice arousing her further. Biting her lip, she couldn’t help but steal a glance at the enticing bulge in his trousers, wishing to pleasure him again.

Focus, Nadine. She chided herself internally for letting her mind wander, knowing it would ultimately be her ruin were she to let it get the better of her. Delivering her lines once more, Ysolda upped the ante, running her tongue all the way from Nadine’s swollen clit to her puckered rosebud, lashing the hole with vigour. Nadine’s body reacted instantly, jolting upward as if she had been electrocuted, the new and somewhat intrusive sensation of someone paying such close attention to somewhere so forbidden making her head spin once more.

As Ysolda continued to probe and lap at Nadine’s sensitive arsehole, Giraud gently worked his fingers across the girl’s cunt, lavishing his attention everywhere the other woman’s tongue had been as he nonchalantly delivered his own lines, burying his fingers deeper as he watched her attempt to deliver hers. Again, she succumbed to her own orgasm, coming hard as she submitted to the twin pleasures being bestowed upon both of her yearning holes. Panting and attempting to splutter out her remaining words, knowing full well the futility, she collapsed on the cool, wooden desk.

“A better attempt, certainly, but still in need of correcting. Stay where you are this time.”

Feeling Ysolda shimmy out from under her, she pointed her bottom upwards, ready to receive her second round of spankings.

“Count.”

Nadine braced herself and asked for the first, feeling the unyielding hard wood of the paddle clash against the soft flesh of her buttocks once more. Giraud continued to rain down his retribution, each swat growing increasingly more punitive, as Nadine settled into her own meditative rhythm - count, thwack, breathe . Each orgasm that had been coaxed from her tempestuous core seemed to only make her more sensitive to future spankings, the afterglow of her pleasure serving as a stark contrast to the pain being delivered. As she reached the end, she felt the familiar sensation of white-hot heat burning through her body, the stinging pain of her penance mingling with things she couldn’t quite describe.

She was still in a trance as Giraud walked over to the shelf to retrieve his next items - a small glass bottle, and something made of moonstone, petite and teardrop-shaped.

“Seems you rather enjoyed Ysolda’s attentions there, didn’t you?”

Shamefully, Nadine nodded.

Thwack. The paddle clashed down once more on her reddened, punished cheeks.

“I asked you a question, Miss Rielle.” Giraud’s voice was tinged with darkness; an authoritative manner spiking his honeyed tones. “When your Master addresses you, you are expected to answer promptly and politely.”

“Sorry, Sir,” she squeaked out, her skin prickling with a mixture of fear and desire. “Yes...I did enjoy Ysolda’s attentions.”

“Tell me exactly what you enjoyed.”

Given that Nadine’s naked body had been displayed to every member of the Sanctum, she had thought she would be somewhat more immune to these kinds of probing, needling questions by now.

She couldn’t be more wrong.

For every new door that opened, there was something new that she realised she liked, and oftentimes these seemed more and more forbidden to Nadine to enjoy. She found herself tongue-tied and flustered once again, just as she had when she had been interrogated by Brynjolf, mortified to admit her newfound desire.

“I...I enjoyed when she licked my...”

Giraud smiled a devious, dark smile, a hungry glint in his eye, willing her to go on.

“...my arsehole, Sir.” The last three words were barely a whisper as Nadine focused solidly on the wood grain of the desk.

“Mmm, very good indeed. I think you should thank Ysolda for doing such a wonderful job. Start by telling her exactly what you liked about it.”

Breathless and aroused beyond measure, Nadine spoke, still unable to bring her eyes up to look at either one. “Thank you for pleasuring me so wonderfully, Ysolda. I liked it when-”

“Look at her while speaking, dear girl.”

Raising her head from the desk, she finally made eye contact with Ysolda, her eyes filled with the same eager, hungry spark as Nadine’s. She burned with shame, but also felt a need to genuinely thank the woman; to share a part of herself previously unshared, in tribute to the gorgeous maiden that stood before her.

“I liked it when you licked my tight hole, when you lapped and prodded at it with your sweet tongue with the same care and attention you showed my cunt,” Nadine confessed breathily. “I liked the way you circled around, alternating between soft laps and probing lashes, and how your tongue seemed to harden and try and coax its way inside.”

Ysolda beamed at the praise, Nadine’s candid commendations fuelling her own desire. “You’re very welcome, Nadine.”

“I’m glad you enjoyed having your arsehole toyed with so, Miss Rielle,” Giraud drawled, “Because our next lesson is about to delve even further into that particular area.”

Pouring the slick liquid from the glass vial on to Nadine’s waiting behind, he worked it into her delicate rosebud, circling at first then working his digit in slowly.

“Ohh...oh fuck…”

“Such language from such a proper Breton maiden like yourself,” he purred, pushing his finger in deeper. After coaxing, petting and working Nadine into a mewling mess, he withdrew his finger, and began to work in the cool, hard moonstone plug.

“How does this feel, dumpling?”

“Ah...amazing, Sir…”

Feeling the plug bottom out, her tight rosy arsehole accepted the entirety of the teardrop-shaped implement, the cool flat base settling against her cheeks.

“Good. Now, I think you should join Ysolda on the bed and thank her properly. Perhaps you could practice your new findings?”

Nadine didn’t need to be asked twice. Her own lust propelling her, she mounted the bed, taking in the sight of the stunning woman that laid before her. The soft ivory tone of her skin was beautifully offset by her deep rosied nipples and short red hair, with a lithe yet curvaceous figure that rivalled Dibella herself. Nadine had desired Ysolda ever since she had entered the Sanctum, being attracted to both her divine beauty and her caring, mentorly nature, and was beside herself to have the chance to lavish her affections on the young woman.

Gently yet passionately she kissed Ysolda, tasting her own essence on her lips as the pairs’ saliva mingled and tongues entwined. Nibbling softly on Ysolda’s lower lip as she kneaded her petite, pert breast, Nadine felt her moan and sigh into her, spurring her on further. Knowing how pent up and impatient the other girl must be, she obliged and dragged her fingers down the front of Ysolda’s body towards her cunt, which she was delighted to find was just as soaked as hers was. Gods, I want to lap up every last drop. Running her middle and ring fingers across, she felt the slick wetness of Ysolda’s cunt coat both digits thoroughly as they slid over her most sensitive parts, gradually working them in and drawing a shuddering breath from her.

Reluctantly, Nadine pulled away from their kiss, working her way down Ysolda’s graceful neck as she continued plunging her fingers deep into her cunt. She wanted to take her time; to bask in the divine beauty of Ysolda, as well as revel in the reactions she was eliciting from her. She knew that both of their willpower and patience was finite, however, and couldn’t stop herself from venturing further south.

“Yes...oh Gods, please Nadine…”

Nadine had never been begged before, used to at this point being the one doing the begging. She understood the appeal - having this woman entirely at her mercy, desperate and wanting was incredibly sexy. There was no way she could deny her breathless pleas.

Wrapping her free hand around Ysolda’s soft, willowy thigh, she descended on her smooth, soaked cunt, lapping up every drop of arousal that flowed from her. As her fingers continued to work her over, her tongue sought out her tender clit, eager to impart the same pleasure that she herself had received. Loving the way the soft flesh felt under her tongue, she took her time finding out what evoked the most delicious reactions from Ysolda, thoroughly enjoying eating her sweet sex.

So wrapped up in her ministrations, Nadine barely registered the man behind her, gently caressing the small of her back as he pleasured himself to the image that unfolded before him. It was only when he pressed on the jewel embedded in her arsehole that she reacted, moaning into Ysolda as the sensations coursed through her, pleasure building as she felt Giraud enter her sopping, aching cunt.

It was significantly harder for her to keep focus when she herself was experiencing such pleasure, but it only sought to spur her on, now lapping at Ysolda with a renewed vigour and hunger. As Giraud steadfastly plunged himself into her, so did she into Ysolda, inserting a third finger as she continued laving her cunt and clit with her tongue, a chain reaction of intense, pulsing desire.

Nadine could hear Ysolda’s breathing grow more rapid and laboured as she emitted lustful purrs and moans, steadily approaching her own release.

“P-please Sir, may I come? I’m so...close...”

“Not yet, my sweet. Nadine, keep going.”

Giraud’s command was damning. Ysolda let out a pained whine as she struggled to keep herself from toppling over into the depths of her own orgasm. Nadine stayed true to her end of the bargain and did not let up, buried deep between Ysolda’s legs as she continued to fuck her with her fingers and mouth. She was desperate to hear her beg again, to feel her shake and convulse and drip, completely at her mercy. She could barely breathe as she furiously sucked and lapped, her own cunt being driven into at the same time, the feeling of the smooth stone plug filling her up wonderfully.

“Please, Sir, I can’t...I need…”

“What was that, dear slut?”

“Please let me come, Sir!”

“But of course.”

The moment the last word dripped from Giraud’s lips, Ysolda’s orgasm overtook her, fingers grabbing Nadine’s hair and grasping her deeper into her as she rocked spasmodically against her. Guttural noises escaped from her as she convulsed, her body shuddering, hours upon hours of pent-up desire culminating in one mammoth wave of intense pleasure. This had somewhat of a knock-on effect on Nadine who, nearing her own orgasm, was spurred on further by Ysolda’s. Trying to ask permission but still very much buried within the other woman’s sex, could only mumble unintelligibly.

“What was that? Use your words, dear girl.” Giraud continued his thrusting, not letting up for a second.

Managing to surface slightly, Nadine begged, “Please, I’m so close, I can’t-”

“Ask me nicely.”

“P-please, Sir…”

“Return to Ysolda, and I will tell you when.”

Fuck. Nadine didn’t know how much longer she could hold off, but hoped that focusing her attentions back on Ysolda would distract her somewhat. Withdrawing her fingers, she lifted Ysolda’s bottom higher, and ran her tongue over her waiting, puckered arsehole, enjoying the unique feeling of the sensitive subject.

She was so close. She couldn’t hold off. As if sensing this, Giraud took pity on the girl, granting her release.

“You may come now, my sweet.”

Tonguing Ysolda’s hole passionately, she felt the sensation grow in her core, building as her orgasm coursed through her. The plug in her arse somehow made everything much more intense, both holes convulsing and pulsing vigorously as she succumbed to the overwhelming pleasure that overtook her, crying out in muffled wails. She could barely concentrate on Ysolda or even breathing as she continued coming, the feeling seeming to stretch on for ages.

Giraud continued to thrust into Nadine, more slowly and deliberately now as she shuddered with the aftershocks of her orgasm. Running his hands over her back, across her hips and arse, he whispered softly and encouragingly as he drove further into her.

“Keep going, darling.”

She focused her attentions on Ysolda’s tight hole, continuing to lash and lave with renewed vigour. Something about servicing this woman in such an intimate, depraved way, returning the favour in kind...it felt incredibly perverted, shameful even, but incredibly right. She never wanted to stop. Being used by both Ysolda and Giraud in such a dirty manner, with her own arsehole being filled at the same time...she felt herself drifting off further into the haze of submission, succumbing wholly to the part of her that lived to serve, to obey, to give and be taken.

Slowly, Giraud withdrew from Nadine’s soaking cunt, her lips grasping him desperately as he pulled out. Attempting to mask her whimpers as she continued rimming Ysolda, she arched her bottom towards him, gesturing for him to re-enter her.

“That’s enough practice on Ysolda for now, dumpling. Right now my cock requires her attention.”

Almost instantly responding to Giraud’s command, Ysolda crawled over to him, arse swaying enticingly as she moved. It took all of Nadine’s willpower to not bury her tongue deep within as she had before, but she stayed herself, her need to obey narrowly overriding her lust. She could only look on in wonder as Ysolda wrapped her full, moist lips around Giraud’s cock and lowered herself onto him, sucking him off with stunning dexterity. He grabbed her short, bobbed hair roughly, him dictating the pace with which he fucked her willing mouth, her taking him in with aplomb. With minimal effort, she could take the entirety of his long member, the debased slurping noises of her attentions echoing throughout the chamber. Nadine was entranced. She truly had much to learn about how to pleasure men orally, but she was only too willing to improve, and watching the wanton, red-haired temptress in front of her perform in this way was wholly erotic and inspiring.

“Feel free to keep your hands busy, Miss Rielle, but don't even think about coming.” Giraud growled his orders through laboured breaths, his tone betraying his own arousal levels and closeness to his own release.

As if freed from invisible shackles, Nadine proceeded to let her hands run over her supple, sweat-soaked body, barely pausing before reaching her still sensitive cunt. She was drenched in a mixture of her own wetness and Ysolda’s saliva, rivulets of her excitement making their way down her thighs. The plug still sat in her arse, steadfast and bulbous, intensifying each brush and touch. Feverishly, Nadine plunged her fingers into herself, missing the feeling of being filled by Giraud’s long cock. So caught up in everything was she that she almost forgot the latter part of the man’s command, stopping just as her orgasm approached. Fuck, this is torturous...

Across from her, Ysolda continued sucking, Giraud fucking her face more vigorously now. The two in a frenzied rhythm, their pace intensified, the sloppy sounds of their sex now reverberating around the room. Believing they must both be undoubtedly close to release, Nadine had to bite her lip hard to prevent herself from possibly doing the same.

With a startling suddenness, Giraud thrusted desperately into Ysolda’s spit-soaked mouth, releasing his seed deep into her throat. With every pump of ejaculate that spurted forth from his member, he thrusted further as Ysolda drank him in, milking his cock of every last drop. Finally withdrawing, she hungrily licked him clean, making sure to get any drops of the precious liquid she may have missed, purring with lustful satisfaction.

“Good girl,” he murmured, stroking her hair.

The two girls cuddled into the gentleman, basking in the afterglow and eager to find out what was next.

“Well, I think that was a successful lesson, hmm?” Giraud crooned as he sprawled languidly across the bed, the women giggling in response as they stroked the smooth, soft skin of his stomach.

“Don’t think your work’s done just yet though, Miss Rielle - I’ve assigned you some homework. It’s on my shelf - you can look it over on your way out.” Wrapping his arm around Nadine, his soft, seductive voice murmured in her ear. “But that can wait. Why don’t we stay here a while?”

Chapter Text

Warming herself by the firepit, Nadine settled into the rickety wooden chair at the Bannered Mare, letting loose a contented sigh as she sipped her wine. The burgundy-coloured liquid stained her lips as it cast a pleasant warming glow through her body; the notes, berried, spiced and oaky, lingered on her palate. Listening to the soft pluckings of the local bard’s lute interspersed with the sounds of a broom sweeping, idle chat and clunking tankards, she mused that this was the perfect way to unwind after a spectacular week’s end.

How was it that she felt both fatigued and energised? Her body ached, and she knew that sleep would not evade her for long, but still she yearned to be around people, to share in their kinship, if even just in spirit. She loved to be around others, even if not directly interacting; often her favourite pastime was to sit as she was right now, engrossed in a book or simply just observing, taking in the shared experiences and conversations of others.

Languidly, she played with the silver pendant that nestled against her collarbone, feeling the ridged texture of the triskele pattern engraved in the metal - her collar when she wasn’t within the sanctum, subtle enough not to arouse suspicion but still symbolic of her commitment.

The chilly breeze of the evening snaked in as the inn doors opened, a figure of a woman following it. Ysolda. Nadine’s heart skipped a beat, nervous to see the woman again in such a different setting. What was she to do? How was she to act? As if picking up on her nervous energy, Ysolda shot Nadine a warm smile, lighthearted and graceful, greeting her as an old friend would. Phew.

“Evenin’, Ysolda,” the barmaid’s voice called out in a warm, Nordic singsong as she listlessly scrubbed a tankard.

“Good evening, Hulda. How are things?”

“Eh. Slow. Gives me less work to do, but puts less gold in my pockets,” she responded with a wan smile as she filled the tankard from the large wooden keg in front of her. “Saadia’s been sweeping the same spot for about twenty minutes now, and Olfina went home because it was so damn quiet.”

“What, you mean she went to Jon Battle-Born’s chambers?” Ysolda smirked at the barmaid, knowing how much of an incorrigible gossip the woman was.

“Don’t let her catch you saying that, she’ll have your head if she does.”

“She can damn well try,” she said with a devilish glint in her eye, picking up the ale Hulda had placed in front of her and taking a sip.

“Anyway, gives me a chance to listen in on all the gossip and find out what’s happening. Did you hear Adrianne and Ulfberth had a break-in?”

Nadine nearly choked on her wine.

“No!” Ysolda remarked, doing an alarmingly good job at feigning surprise and concern. “Not Warmaiden’s?”

“That’s the funny thing. It wasn’t Warmaiden’s - it was their house. Something about a book or a trinket, I’m not sure.”

“Oh, that’s awful! Did they find the person responsible?”

“Someone from the Thieves Guild, as always,” Hulda tutted with a look of disdain on her face. “Not sure who.”

“Well, whoever it is, I certainly hope they end up clapped in irons.” Ysolda remarked haughtily as she turned to Nadine, a knowing smile tracing her lips and the wickedest glint in her glowing amber eyes.

Retiring to her room, Nadine’s heart raced. Ysolda had gone about the rest of her evening as normal, flirting with the bard and chatting with other patrons, nobody but the two of them being any the wiser to their exchange or any of the things they had been doing that weekend. Where they had been. Where their tongues had been. By the Gods…

She reached into her knapsack, retrieving the items Giraud had given her as her “homework” assignment. Three small satchels - one containing the moonstone plug, the other two containing progressively larger versions in glass and steel respectively; a bottle of the same slippery liquid that had been used on her before, and finally, a soft cover leather journal with instructions written inside. She breathed in the scent of the leather, blushing already at how aroused this now made her, the association with her newfound pleasures writ large in her mind. Eager to begin, she read.

“Dearest Nadine,

You are to follow these instructions to the letter. Failure to do so will result in swift and unyielding punishment.

You are to visit the nearest market stall, purchase the largest feasible cucumber you think you can take, scrub it thoroughly in the nearest stream and practice fellating it until you are certain you can take as much of your Master as he wishes.

You are to pleasure yourself when the fancy takes you, wherever and whenever that may be. While doing so, you must insert a plug in your backside - as big as you can manage, starting small at first. Use the provided lubricant liberally - visit Adrianne in Whiterun or Ingun in Riften if you require more.

You are to bring yourself to the precipice of orgasm, but you are not to fully succumb. You are to do this at least thrice per time.

You are to lick your fingers clean when you are done.

You are to record each incident in the pages following, including any transgressions if applicable, and return ready to submit yourself and your findings on Fredas.”

Nadine was panting, the instructions alone making her grow weak with lust. How was she going to survive a full week of bringing herself to the brink of her own ecstasy, only to then steal it away? The thought alone was both maddening and intensely arousing.

She quickly shuffled off her smallclothes, sticky and damp with her secretions, letting them tangle around her ankles as she hoisted up her dress. Hungrily and impatiently, she prised the small satchel open, grasping the moonstone plug inside as she reached for the glass bottle of lubricant next to it.

By Sanguine, she was positively drenched already; would she even need it?

She loosened the laces running the front of her dress, her breasts spilling out from the newly liberated fabric, the image of her rapidly becoming more and more indecent as she laid splayed on the bed. How terribly wanton she was… As she pushed the slippery stone plug against her rear entrance, she let out a low mewl, her tight hole giving purchase to the object of its desire.

Clawing at herself with a primitive need, Nadine’s thoughts raced. Oh, how she wished she had company, to fill her other hole... plunging her own fingers inwards, she pumped them in and out with a reckless desperation in an attempt to emulate the feeling of being filled by a hard, thick cock. The last time she had been in this room, it had been her first time with Brynjolf... her other hand plucked harshly at her stiff, tender nipples, occasionally taking pause to rake along her soft, pale skin on their way to her engorged clit. How wonderful she had felt over his knee, him making her melt with his sublime seduction, begging to be spanked and sucking him off until she swallowed as much of his seed as her inexperienced mouth could manage... fuck, she was so close…

Feeling herself nearing climax, she abruptly stopped, struggling not to cry out in anguish at the twisted punishment she’d just inflicted on herself. So near, yet so far... how was she to do this two more times? And what then - was she permitted to allow herself release after that?

Slowly, she began to work herself over again, her intense drive to succeed at her task sparring with her overwhelming urge to submit to her own orgasm - a war against herself, in which she was to be the loser regardless of the outcome. Her fingers circled her clit gently, every movement sending jolts of electric pleasure through her body. She felt herself begin to unravel again, thoughts drifting to her encounter with Giraud and Ysolda. Her tongue against her cunt, teasing its way up to her arsehole, lapping as his fingers pistoned into her, gasping for air and trying to read her lines... Gods, yes, more…

Shivers and spasms coursed through her body, her hips arching upwards to thrust against something, anything to grant her the release she craved but finding nothing. Abruptly pulling both hands away, Nadine whined at the cruelty of the exercise. She had been so damned close! Clutching both hands into tight fists, she slammed them down on the straw-stuffed mattress in frustration. Behave, Nadine, you’re acting like a petulant child having a temper tantrum. Feeling a twinge of embarrassment at the realisation, she attempted to steady herself.

Her fingers traced her cunt, smearing her juices along her nether lips as she massaged her clit languidly between her middle and ring finger, the rhythm gradually growing more intense and sporadic. Ysolda’s voice rang in her head, eyes twinkling like wildfire. ‘I certainly hope they end up clapped in irons.’ Her fingers plunged lower, entering her hot, tight channel. The way she had tasted...how she had melted against her mouth as she made her come... what deviant, delicious whores they both were… Desperately, she pistoned her fingers, grinding herself against the flat of her palm. She really should be shackled and taught a lesson... please, yes, oh Gods yes, fucking show me what a bad girl I’ve been...

Unable to find the willpower to pull her hand away this time, Nadine let herself be enveloped in her orgasm as it tumbled over her violently. Her hips bucked and her body shook like a woman possessed. Once she had come undone, she found she could not stop; frantically gyrating and grinding against herself, her stuttered movements pushing her over the edge once more.

A thin sheen of sweat glistened across her skin. The sound of her laboured breathing and shuddering moans permeated the silence, louder than she really ought to be. Eventually, she withdrew her fingers from within, sucking the abundant, heady juices from them. As she tasted her own unique flavour on her tongue, its notes matching that of the smell that lay heavy in the air, her cunt twitched with arousal at the sheer perversion of the act. Such a naughty, depraved slut...

She had failed her first assignment, she realised. Still, she would worry about that more come Fredas. For now, she would clean up, record her results and sleep.

The rest of the week trudged on as slow as treacle, Nadine doing everything she could to keep herself busy, in an attempt to keep herself from thinking deviant thoughts that would inevitably lead to her own self-imposed torture. This turned out to be fairly problematic, as her first assignment - purchasing and fellating a cucumber - was fairly erotically charged in nature. Her cheeks blazed scarlet as she asked the pretty greengrocer for the largest cucumber she had, her eyes widening as she obliged Nadine’s request. She waited until she had headed further west of Whiterun until she gave it a good scrub, away from the prying eyes of anyone else, embarrassed about its true purpose. Quickly drying it off and wrapping it up in a cloth, she tucked it away in her knapsack, waiting until she was somewhere completely private before she fulfilled the last part of the request.

She journeyed further west still, making haste for Rorikstead. The rest of her week was filled with exploring nearby ruins, attempting to stay chaste by lusting after knowledge instead. As successful as this proved to be during the day, it proved more difficult as the sun set and she retired to the local tavern, Frostfruit Inn, where the firelight danced and the mead flowed and her inhibitions dissipated much too easily.

Tirdas evening, a young couple sat sharing a bottle of Alto Wine, wrapped up in each other as they whispered sweet nothings in each other’s ears. That night when Nadine retired, she imagined the pair continuing their torrid tryst; the woman’s back against the stable wall as her lover lifted her legs and thrust himself into her, both struggling to keep quiet as they were driven over the edge, his seed spilling down the inside of her legs as they crept into the night. On this attempt, Nadine managed to hold off the required three times, retrieving the moonstone plug from her snug arsehole and placing it in the washbasin before focusing her frustrated attentions on the large cucumber. She could make it almost to the back of her tongue without gagging - was there anything that would make it easier, she wondered? Pulling it out of her mouth, she noted her progress in the journal, making an internal note to ask Ysolda and Ingun for any advice they may have.

Her wash in the great outdoors on Middas morning proved to be more difficult than usual, her pent-up frustrations from the night before causing every brush of her fingers against her skin to make her cunt throb, prompting her to finish what she’d started. She tried the glass plug this time, the coolness of it combining with the slight chill in the air and making her skin grow taut. It was slightly more challenging, but still slid in with relative ease, the fuller feeling of the glass being even more delightful than the moonstone plug had felt. She didn’t even delay even her first orgasm this time, accepting her fate and letting it consume her wholly as the water crashed over her.

After a particularly gruelling day of hiking across barren wastelands and spelunking damp, dark caves, Nadine returned to Frostfruit Inn on Turdas evening, her bones aching. She needed food, something strong to drink, and a good night’s sleep. Finding the tavern bustling when she arrived, she knew that a peaceful sojourn was not on the cards.

As soon as she tucked into the wonderfully hearty horker stew and sank her first long sip of ale, she loosened up significantly, deciding maybe her mind did have the energy for revelry this evening, even if her body didn’t.

At the table next to her, a motley band of travellers was gathered, all deep in their cups. The four of them bantered riotously - two great hulking Orsimer, one male, one female; a breathtakingly muscular Nord man with flaxen hair and a battle-worn face; and a particularly bulky and butch looking Dunmer woman, whose sanguine eyes bored into Nadine as she drained her tankard.

“Hey, gorgeous,” the Orc woman leered, “fancy some company?”

“I’m fine,” Nadine responded coolly, defensively touching the pendant that hung around her neck.

“Oh, don’t be like that, sweetheart,” the Nord slurred, voice heavy with sleaze and mead.

The Dunmer woman spoke, her blood-red eyes looking pointedly at the pendant as a smirk danced across her lips. “Leave the girl alone. She’s taken.”

Shit. How did she know?

That night when Nadine retired to her room, her blood rushed with pure adrenaline knowing that a stranger knew her deepest, darkest secret. Her body ached, but her mind was whirring. More than anything, she needed to let go, even if not completely. Tonight she tried the largest plug, having mastered the two previous ones satisfactorily. The metal felt much weightier in her hand, and would undoubtedly feel so in her arse - as she covered it with the lubricant, she wondered if this would be a good or bad thing. Sliding it in, it felt much too large at first, but as she stroked her clit gently with her other hand, she felt her arsehole give purchase to the metal plug, gobbling it up with surprising ease. Once it was in, she had her answer - it felt incredible. The weight easily made it the most satisfying so far, and she could feel her own body heat warm the metal in a gorgeously pleasing manner.

She wondered if the Dunmer woman - if any of the crowd next door - knew what she was doing to herself right now. Maybe they’d like to join me... Nadine toyed with herself roughly, pistoning her fingers in and out furiously as she pulled and twisted her plump nipples, loving the familiar feeling of pain mingling with pleasure. Letting out low, lustful moans, she briefly wondered how loud she was actually being. Just a wall dividing me from everyone... anyone could hear what I’m doing right now…

Nadine pushed herself to the edge four times, barely making it on the last attempt. Frustrated and exhausted, she performed the rest of the now familiar ritual before drifting easily into a deep, fitful sleep.

She dreamt in lurid, technicolour detail that night. In the tavern, chained to the table; the drunken, rough group taking turns with her, using her in whichever way they pleased. Calloused hands groping at soft, pliant flesh; beards and stubble and tusks scratching across delicate, unspoiled skin. Her excitement flowed from her core like honey, as well as her pleas for release - “fuck me, use me, take me until I come undone”. All the while, the Dunmer’s eyes burned into Nadine’s own, ruby red and glowing brighter than molten steel as she gave her orders.

“Pull her hair. Mark her skin. Let them know we’ve seen to her.”

Nadine cried out as she felt the assault of nails scratching across sides, teeth sinking into neck flesh and fists yanking hair, her body arching upwards in response.

Skin grey and glimmering, the Dunmer’s voice dripped with mead and poison, every word snarled in Nadine’s ear inching her ever closer to the release she craved. “Not so prim now, are you, you fucking tart…”

Nadine awoke with a start, bleary-eyed and panting in her room at the inn. Her body burned; the fur blankets tossed on the floor unceremoniously during what had to have been an extremely restless sleep. It felt so real - had it actually happened? Examining her body for any marks, she concluded that it had definitely only been a dream, but the wetness drenching her smallclothes was very real. Fan-bloody-tastic.

Morning finally came, and Nadine rode on to Whiterun with purpose, getting there in ample time to relax and enjoy the day. She stopped by the Khajiit caravans, buying some much needed supplies - moon sugar, especially, was one of her favourites. Excellent for some basic potions, as well as for making Elsweyr Fondue - a dish so delicious it made Nadine’s mouth water just to think about. Oh, how good it was to enjoy with some rare meat and apples and crusty bread! She had also, occasionally, dipped her finger in and had a lick of the raw sugar when nobody was looking, enjoying the fuzzy, warm feeling it gave her, but she tried not to do it too much, fearing her somewhat addictive personality would lead her to eventually get hooked on the stuff. Or worse, skooma. No, that didn’t bear thinking about, really.

Opening the door to the Sanctum, she breathed in the familiar scent - old books, leather, mead and sweat, with a slight note of damp mustiness underneath that was not completely unpleasant. She was home. Being more familiar with the ritual this time, she followed Ingun to the makeshift bathhouse, readying herself for the night ahead.

Upon her return, Nadine noticed it was a lot quieter than usual this evening - both Ysolda and Aela were missing, as was Brynjolf, to her disappointment. Although she lusted after everyone in the Sanctum, each alluring in their own unique way, she still very much had a soft spot for Bryn. He was her first, and ultimately the reason she was here in the first place - the catalyst, at least. She also couldn’t see Drevis, but being familiar with his proclivity to disappear at will, wasn’t sure if he was absent or just invisible.

“Where are the others?” she asked Adrianne, handing her a goblet of wine.

“Ah yes, it is a bit quieter than you’re used to, isn’t it? Your favourite thief is away on Guild business this evening,” Adrianne said with a knowing smile. “And Aela and Ysolda are currently...moon sisters.”

“Ysolda’s a werewolf?” Nadine exclaimed.

Adrianne let out sweet peals of laughter at the girl’s misinterpretation. “Oh no, nothing like that. Just menstruating.”

Nadine breathed a sigh of relief. That she could handle.

“Drevis?”

“Probably pulling himself off in a corner somewhere while ‘practising his incantations’,” Adrianne winked, making quotation marks with her long, elegant fingers. “Not here, though. He’s back in Winterhold this evening. So it’s just the rest of us.”

“Okay. Thank you, Miss.”

“You’re very welcome, pet.”

The rest of the evening passed easily, Giraud inviting her to join him on his lap once she’d finished fetching drinks and setting the table. As they all ate, he fed her morsels from his plate - succulent venison, rich Eidar cheese and Jazbay grapes, thoroughly enjoying how she savoured each bite, lips and tongue gently tracing his fingers as she accepted his offerings.

Tracing the skin around her left breast before plucking her nipple, he nuzzled into her, purring in her ear, “I hope you’ve been a good girl this week, Miss Rielle.”

By the Divines, if he kept this up she was going to soak through to his lap!

“Mostly, Sir…”

“Hmm, we’ll have to take a look after dinner. Then we can decide what’s to be done with you.”

The remainder of the meal continued, conversation and wine both flowing easily as the firelight danced lazily against the walls of the Sanctum, the soft, seductive glow not quite penetrating the darkest areas of its nooks and crannies. As her and Ingun cleared the table afterwards, she was prompted to fetch her journal and meet Giraud in his chambers once again, her heart racing as she realised that her moment of reckoning had arrived.

Nadine stood nervously in front of Giraud as he pored over her diligent notes, making slight noises as he read - whether these were of approval or disapproval, Nadine was unsure. She studied his face, his body language, hoping to get a foothold on the situation, and exactly the amount of trouble she was in. She had managed the largest plug - that was positive; hadn’t quite mastered deepthroating the cucumber yet - probably negative; and the orgasm denial and edging was something of a mixed bag.

He looked at her, scanning her with his impossibly deep brown eyes, reading her as thoroughly as he had her notes. His look made her feel very naked indeed - she had become accustomed to being nude in the Sanctum, but something about the way his gaze needled into her, as if able to sense her very thoughts, made her feel exposed in a way she hadn’t considered possible. Clearly enjoying her discomfort, his mouth curled into a slight smile, taking his time before finally deigning to speak.

“Well...quite the exciting week we’ve had.”

More of a statement than a question, Nadine wasn’t sure whether this required a response, but she knew better than to ignore. “Yes, Sir.”

“Made for some very interesting reading.” Stroking his stubbled chin, he sat the book on the table, making his way across to the girl. “Very interesting indeed.”

She let out a small gasp as he felt his finger cup under her chin, tilting it upwards to have her look him in the eye. “Rather a lot of orgasms that you didn’t have permission for. Some commendation for effort, especially with your rather detailed note-writing,” his dark eyes glinted wickedly as Nadine’s darted downward, mortified, “but we can’t just let these things slide, I’m afraid.”

“Of course, Sir.” Her shameful response was barely a whisper.

“I have the feeling you haven’t quite been responding to my punishments, though,” Giraud mused, noting Nadine’s slight pout of disagreement already. “So I thought you might respond better to someone a bit more...authoritarian.”

“I can behave,” Nadine insisted, almost puppylike in how eager she was to please her Master.

“This isn’t up for debate, Miss Rielle,” Giraud pressed, his voice firm and resolute. “Your punishment awaits in the arena below.”

Chapter Text

Nadine began her journey down to the Sanctum arena. Her steps lagged. Her shoulders slumped. Had she let Giraud down? Moreover, what waited below? She clasped her fingers together, thoughts tumbling uncomfortably through her mind.

The arena was empty and foreboding, a wrought-iron chandelier looming from the ceiling.The shadow it cast was even grander than the structure itself. A dark-clad figure waited for them, her almost-white hair gleaming in the candlelight. Flames danced merrily from the sconces mounted on the wall, wicked licks of fire enticing Nadine to come closer. As she drew nearer, Vex’s deep brown eyes pierced Nadine through, her mouth curled up in that icy, sardonic smile of hers.

“Well, well. What have we got here?”

“Our newest initiate is somewhat of a wild card when it comes to following instructions,” Giraud drawled as he passed the leather notebook to his colleague. “She’s managed to master her anal training rather well, but the rest of her assignment was… well, I’ll let you have a read.”

Vex raised an eyebrow, skimming the document. She made her thoughts far more obvious, tutting and shaking her head as she read.

“Leave the girl with me.” There was a hint of annoyance in her voice. “I’ll see to it that she’s punished appropriately.”

The silence was torturous, every second feeling like a hundred. The two women stared at one another - Nadine not wishing to speak, Vex daring her to. The latter finally relented.

“So, I get to spend my evening with the new meat.”

Vex’s tone sat somewhere between indifferent and irritated. Nadine shifted on her feet, attempting to relieve some of the discomfort she felt.

“I could be spending it with Ingun, or even Ulfberth and Adrianne,” she continued, staring down Nadine. Staring through Nadine. “But instead, I get to spend it teaching a needy, filthy little Breton princess a lesson.”

Vex’s words stung. Nadine would’ve rather been cropped or caned. They went straight for the jugular, somehow zeroing in on each of her insecurities and laying them bare.

“Kneel.”

Nadine complied, stone cold and unyielding against her knees as she assumed the position. Vex was probably only a couple of inches taller than Nadine, but she made her feel tiny in comparison; an insect ready to be squished under her black leather boot.

“Have to say, I’m surprised. Not what I expected from the girl that I hear is so very, very eager to please.” Vex’s voice softened as she circled Nadine, lazily running her fingers through her ebony hair. “Nadine the Overachiever. Nadine the Teacher’s Pet.”

Vex produced an apple from behind her back, red and shining like polished glass. Opening Nadine’s mouth, she shoved the fruit in, motioning for her to bite down on the flesh.

“Perfect. Now you look the part, too.”

Nadine’s skin burned, tears forming in her eyes. Her jaw clenched, making her bite harder on the apple, its juice running down her chin and on to her exposed breasts. Vex leaned in and lapped up the juice, making her jolt up and moan into the fruit in shocked arousal.

“You can spit it out and use your safeword if you need to, princess,” she whispered in Nadine’s ear, gently stroking her cheek as the other hand traced along her ample breast. “But we both know you won’t.”

Vex’s touch turned from soft to hard as her hand smacked Nadine’s breast, the sudden impact smarting.

Bitch!

Nadine was suddenly quite glad for the apple gag, as it muffled her last thought which would have inevitably led to further punishment. Several more swats followed, hard and fast across her exposed tits. The flesh stung as it pinkened, spit and apple juice dripping over the punished areas. All she could do was whimper into the crisp flesh of the fruit in her mouth, feeling it soften and give as she was subjected to Vex’s retribution.

“Stand.”

Nadine sprung upright clumsily, eager to prove herself worthy.

“Legs open.” Nadine did as commanded, widening her stance, and Vex smirked. “Much too easy.”

She ran her cool, slender fingers across Nadine’s cunt, humming approvingly at the abundant wetness that met her. They continued to work, nimble and expertly, figuring out every slight nook and cranny - lockpicking fingers, Nadine thought to herself, wondering what else they were capable of. Vex’s exploration ended almost as quickly as it had began, and Nadine’s cunt was met with the same fate as her breasts as a firm, swift spank was administered to it.

The sharp sting shot through her, the impact on her sensitive mound far worse than being spanked on her arse or tits. Her legs buckled, and she clung to her castigator for support as she steadied herself, riding out the new, intense pain.

Several more swats followed, unrelenting in their speed and intensity. It didn’t take long for Nadine to realise that her arousal level seemed to deepen the pain, as every tap Vex focused around her clit made the following slap smart all the more. This was a fact the woman was clearly aware of, as she employed it every chance she got, always meeting Nadine’s whimpers of delicious pain and tortured pleasure with that satisfied smirk of hers.

“Do you want me to hit you harder, or softer?”

Was she serious? Nadine attempted to say “softer”, but the effort was completely futile, the shapes and sounds of the letters being muffled by the gag.

“Didn’t quite catch that. Speak clearly, princess.”

Vex’s tone dripped with condescension, as if Nadine was completely unable to understand even the most basic of commands. Her eyes drew daggers at her Mistress in response, incensed at the new level of degradation being gagged added, near shouting her reply in a mixture of desperation and fury.

Softer! “Mmmmfpttth!”

“Harder? Whatever you say.”

Three more brutal slaps rained down on Nadine’s cunt, made even more painful by the sting of frustrated humiliation. She was desperate to give Vex a piece of her mind; she wasn’t a fucking child, Godsdamnit, how dare she talk to her this way - and yet, she kept the apple in her mouth obediently. Kept accepting her spankings, kept wanting to obey and impress.

“Lay down on the bench, princess.”

Nadine complied, noticing Vex’s tone thawing somewhat - hopefully she was winning her over. Every small gesture the woman made, whether it be a touch of her skin or a word spoken softer than usual, made Nadine melt like snow under springtime sun, those small kindnesses amplified in contrast to her harsh exterior. She ached to make Vex melt too, as she had Adrianne and Ysolda; to see her body wrapped around hers, to hear her cry out in pained ecstasy, to lay bare the parts of her nobody else was permitted to see.

Before she had a chance, Vex beat her to the punch, cleaning her spit-sodden body with her long, warm tongue. As she did so, her fingers traced the length of Nadine’s sides, making her own fingers stretch out to caress her Mistress in response.

“Did I say you could touch?” The frostiness crept back into her voice again as she reprimanded Nadine, grabbing her wrists.

Nadine shook her head. She hadn’t been thinking, but she should’ve known better than to test these things. She looked at her Mistress with the most pleading face she could muster, but to no avail. Vex bound her wrists behind her with leather ties, her mouth curving into a cruel smile.

“Problem solved.”

She continued her attentions, lapping the course of Nadine’s body while her fingers traced alongside, travelling companions on the most delightful terrain. It didn’t take them long to arrive at her cunt, which was wet, hot and intensely sensitive from the round of spankings it had received. As if to soothe the pain, Vex sprinkled it with gentle, tender kisses, cooing and stroking it sweetly before upping the intensity and laving it with her tongue.

Nadine moaned, chomping into the apple. Fuck. Every flick, stroke and lap of Vex’s incredibly skilled tongue felt amazing, sending shockwaves through her body. The pain from before was all but forgotten, only leaving behind a burning heat. She could already feel her orgasm grow, like a wind-up spring coiling inside her. Just as the dam was about to break, Vex abruptly stopped, removing herself from the vice-like grip between Nadine’s thighs.

“What?” she asked, laughter creeping into her voice at Nadine’s clear dismay. “You really thought I was just going to let you come, after you’ve been so greedy all week?”

Nadine let out a pained wail, finally realising her true punishment.

“Oh, sweetheart, you have no idea,” Vex responded, stroking a finger along the girl’s dripping slit, revelling in the way it made her spasm with agonising pleasure. “We’ve only just begun.”

Shackled to the cross, legs spread and hair matted to her head with sweat, Nadine stood exhausted. She had lost count of the amount of times she had been driven to the edge, only to be left there, begging and wanting. At least, she would have begged, if she didn’t still have this damned apple in her mouth. What was left of it, anyway - her mastication and drooling had reduced the fruit to little more than some skin and pulp, a reflection of what she herself felt like.

Vex had alternated between licking, sucking and fingering Nadine into Oblivion, then punishing her with the crop - her favourite instrument of torture, Nadine recalled from her initiation. The stinging, precise head of the crop was even more punishing across her breasts, thighs and cunt than it had been across her arse, and as her ache for release grew, so too did the crop’s cruel bite.

Face streaked with tears, she whimpered into what was left of the fruit gag, wishing she could beg Vex for what she truly wanted for, but not so badly that she would spit it out to do so. Brushing away her tears, Vex plucked the apple from her mouth, leaving her ungagged.

“Thank you, Miss,” Nadine said, voice shaking with emotion.

“Don’t get too used to speaking,” Vex said, undoing the shackles at Nadine’s wrists. “You’re not going to be able to for long. By my count, you had three orgasms that you weren’t supposed to have. That’s three orgasms that you owe me. At least.”

Nadine’s eyes glowed with excitement and lust. She was so, so eager to please Vex, and had been ever since she had spoken with her in the Sanctum, seeing the gorgeous, intricate complexities that laid behind her steely exterior.

Her ankles were freed, and she steadied herself on the cold, solid ground of the arena.

“Yes, Miss. I am at your command. Tell me where you want me.”

“Between my legs, undressing me would be a start.”

Nadine wasted no time on removing Vex’s clothing - an alternative version of her Thieves Guild armour, designed for pleasure rather than business. The soft, sturdy leather fit her like a second skin, clinging to every graceful curve of her lithe body. Metal rings and buckles resided where armoured shielding and pouches would have been, and the black boots that she wore were much longer than her regulation Thieves Guild ones, running to her thighs.

The woman stood before her, naked but still every bit as imposing and authoritative as she had been clothed. Nadine knelt at her feet, consumed with an overwhelming hunger to pleasure her, to please her, to worship her. Kissing along her pale, strong legs, she stroked Vex’s bare skin, loving the way it felt against hers. She could kneel at her feet forever and be perfectly content. Nadine’s adoring eyes stared into Vex’s unwavering ones, shining like mahogany.

“Can I take you to bed, Miss?” She could have sworn she heard a whimper escape Vex’s lips, just for a second. But only for a second.

“You can follow me to the bed,” Vex replied, her flushed lips curving into a wicked smile. “On your hands and knees.” She glanced over her shoulder as she walked forward, hips swaying. “Can’t have the new meat forgetting her place.” When she laid across the plush, fur-covered bed, Nadine crawled up to meet her.

Tentative yet desperate, she kissed along Vex’s thighs, carefully gauging each minute reaction. It didn’t take her long to reach her Mistress’ gorgeous cunt, where a patch of soft, white-blonde hair nestled atop her mound, leading down to her smooth, slick nether lips. She may have had a convincing poker face, but Nadine was gratified to see that much like herself, Vex’s body betrayed her.

Tenderly, she dipped her tongue inside, eager to drink every last drop of her desire. Vex’s moans were met by her own when she lapped the delicious nectar that flowed, salty-sweet and mingling with the taste of apple that still lingered in her mouth. Where men tasted like sweat and salt and conquest, women were more complex, their flavours deeper and more pronounced. They tasted like ocean waves crashing against rugged cliffs in the cold of winter; like the metallic aftertaste of the Septim placed in her mother’s Potage de Magnifique. They tasted like home, and Nadine never wanted to leave.

One hand curled around Vex’s thigh as the other drifted up to her toned stomach, some small means of anchoring herself as Nadine continued to lap at her sex. Her mouth engulfed Vex wholly, nibbling and suckling at her labia and clit, her tongue alternating between wicked flicks and probing thrusts as she fucked her Mistress’ hole with surprising force. She moaned into those divine folds, frenzied with desire as she ground her own aching cunt against nothing. She could hear Vex beginning to lose control, emitting sharp hisses every time Nadine did something right, which only spurred her on to pleasure her with even more fervour.

Long, pale fingers buried themselves in unkempt ebony locks as Vex took control of the pace. There was no use playing the ice queen now; Nadine had reduced her to a sopping puddle and she knew it. Vex’s thighs clutched her head in a death grip as she lost control completely, crying out and coming hard on her sweet face.

“By fucking Sanguine, that’s good,” she panted, eyes glazed with lust and bliss, body writhing against the bed. Nadine grasped her hips and slowed her laving slightly, giving the woman a moment to catch her breath and recover. She surfaced for a moment to catch her own breath, running her tongue across Vex’s now plump, petal-like labia. She had time now to appreciate the beautiful details there she had missed before - a freckle nestled between outer lips and thigh; how her clit protruded like the stigma of a dragon’s tongue blossom.

Loosening her grip around Vex’s hips, Nadine let her hand roam downward toward her cunt, the small shock of white-blonde hair shining in the candlelight. She let her fingers comb through it, in awe of how soft it was - mine has always been so coarse and rough - before running her finger across the soaked, bare nether lips, delighting in the squeak this elicited from the woman.

It didn’t take long for Nadine to get the digit completely drenched, and even less time for her to push it, then another, into her willing Mistress. She gave her no quarter as she fingered Vex furiously, the wet sucking sounds echoing around as she continued her tongue’s previous ministrations. Feeling Vex buck and grind against her, she knew that she wouldn’t be too long, and in moments she was convulsing and gushing around her fingers as she came a second time.

“You’re getting too good at this,” Vex said, voice hoarse with exertion and lust.

Nadine beamed at the praise, face messy with all manner of deviance. “I aim to please, Miss.”

“Let’s try something more challenging. Lie on your back.”

Nadine complied, her dark hair fanning out in striking contrast to the tawny, mink tones of the fur pelt beneath.

Vex restrained her wrists once again, leaving her with only one tool at her disposal. Luckily, it was the one Vex seemed to prefer.

“If you need to come up for air, just knock, princess.”

With that, she straddled Nadine’s face and descended on her desperate cunt.

Oh fuck. Divines save me. Nadine wasn’t going to last long. She had to make Vex come before she did.

The two raced against each other, both desperate to drive the other over the edge before they themselves succumbed to it. Vex had the advantage of experience, as well as having built Nadine up quite a bit already, but she was also in a position where she could freely grind against her if she wanted to - a torturous choice to have placed in front of you, as Nadine knew from experience.

In the end, it was impossible to tell who came first. Nadine, knowing she couldn’t hold off much longer, ran her tongue from Vex’s cunt to her tight arsehole, trying to focus on tonguing the puckered hole harder rather than the deliciously deviant purrs her actions were eliciting. This made Vex up her intensity, licking with a renewed ferocity, grinding herself against Nadine’s tongue as they came together, gushing and messy, skin against skin.

Nadine thought she would pass out, her orgasm was so intense; the culmination of too many build-ups to count finally brought to fruition. She splayed out her hand, flailing it against the headboard like a fish out of water. Vex climbed off of her, turning around and laying by her side, untying her bindings and stroking her flushed cheek.

“You okay, princess?”

This time, when she called Nadine princess, there was no hint of snark or scorn; no underlying tone of disdain or malice. Any lingering negativity was replaced with warmth, kindness, respect. Apparently, she had passed the test.

“Yes, Miss.” Nadine’s voice was still far away, but she smiled at Vex, nestling into the crook of her arm. They stayed like that for a while, entwined in each other while Vex cradled Nadine in her arms, black hair tangling with blonde.

“Since you call me Princess, can I call you my Queen?” Nadine asked earnestly, looking up doe-eyed at her Mistress.

“Fuck no,” Vex snorted, then regretting her immediate brashness, relented slightly. “Well, maybe. Probably not, though. I’m not into the whole monarchy thing.”

“Then why call me princess?”

“Because you’re so hot when you’re indignant,” Vex teased, smirking. “Plus, you are kind of princess-y. Me, on the other hand? Hardly queen material.”

“Mmm, I don’t know,” Nadine murmured. “Commanding, beautiful, intimidating as hell… sounds like a queen to me.”

“Well… why don’t we fuck for it? Loser gets to keep their nickname.”

Nadine cocked her head, looking at Vex with a knowing smile. “There’s not really a loser in this game, is there?”

Vex grinned. “Not really.”

Rooting about in a nearby cupboard, she emerged with a leather harness with what looked to be a horker tusk attached. Could that be..? No, surely not.

It was. As Vex stepped into the harness and adjusted the straps, Nadine gazed in wonder at the vision that stood before her. Black leather clung to every curve of the woman’s legs and cunt and hugged her arse, leading round to the front where the tusk sat, curved and proud, ready to take her as any cock would. Vex looked good with a cock. Really, really good.

“You ready for this, princess?” She slicked her hand along the ivory phallus, working oil onto it.

“Yes, my Queen,” Nadine responded, knowing full well her insubordinate response would likely land her a punishment or two.

She laid across the bed, mattress dipping as Vex climbed between her legs to press herself inside. She was gentle, and the tapering of the tusk meant that this was a much more gradual climb than any of the men that had taken her had been; the firmness, however, was much more intense. This along with the curve that the tusk had made her Mistress’ appendage uniquely delightful, and she did not keep this to herself.

“Fuck, Miss, that feels so good,” Nadine mewled, desperate. She didn’t care if she sounded like a needy, slutty little princess; she knew what she was, and if it meant getting to come around Vex’s cock, she would scream it from the rooftops.

Vex thrust harder into Nadine, nails digging into her hips as she kissed and bit her neck, lost in the rhythm of her own fucking. Very tentatively, Nadine let her own hands wander, her movements becoming surer when her hands were not immediately snatched away. She gently, then firmly cupped the blonde’s tits - smaller than her own, peppered with sweet, scant freckles and with the most gorgeous pale pink nipples. Plucking them, she was delighted to find how sensitive they were, and didn’t let up once she’d made this discovery.

Vex met Nadine’s teasing with renewed intensity, fucking harder and deeper. This was a game she clearly didn’t intend to lose. When Nadine’s moans turned from soft whimpers to guttural cries of need, she pounced.

“Do you want to come, sweet Nadine?” she asked, a sinister smile on her lips.

“Gods, yes Miss, please…”

“Tell me what you are.”

“I’m a needy, desperate little princess who needs to come around your cock, Miss!”

With that, Vex pistoned into the girl, punctuating her thrusts with clipped words growled into Nadine’s ear. “Come. For. Me.”

For a moment, she was lost. Nothing existed except her body, simultaneously aching and numb, nerves overloaded with friction and pleasure, as the tusk slid in and out. Her cunt gripped onto it, and she on to Vex, crying out in anguished pleasure. She took a while to return this time - still wrapped around her Mistress, who was gratifyingly still inside her but had eased off on the fucking.

“Tough luck, princess,” she said with a grin, brushing an errant strand of hair away from Nadine’s face.

Nadine had no response, but then again, no response was needed. She pulled Vex in close, the two joining together in a passionate kiss as they fucked until they were both spent.

She had started to rather like the nickname, anyway.

Chapter Text

Nadine sat in Dead Man’s Drink, mouth full of sweetroll when the courier arrived. Hurriedly, she licked the spiced crumbs and glaze from her fingers, blushing slightly when she saw the man’s eyes widen at her hedonistic display.

“From Adrianne Avenicci of Whiterun,” he said as he shakily thrust the piece of parchment into her now cleaned hand, struggling to look her in the eye. “Have a pleasant day, miss.”

Opening the parchment, Nadine read Adrianne’s cursive, elegant and slanting:

Nadine,

Arrive at the sanctum a half-hour early this Fredas. We’re expecting company.

Yours,
Adrianne

Swiping away the residual flakes of pastry that dotted her dress, she set off to Whiterun, eager to find out more about their mystery guest. She arrived outside Warmaiden’s as the afternoon sun drifted mellow on the horizon, Adrianne battering at a Nordic steel plate pauldron on her worktable. She looked up as Nadine approached, smirking.

“Ah, I’m assuming the courier arrived, then.”

“He did, but it’s not the only reason I’m here,” Nadine responded, on the defensive. “My dagger happens to need a sharpen.”

“What, does Lod’s grindstone not work all of a sudden?” Adrianne grinned, merciless in her onslaught.

“I needed arrows from Elrindir too… for hunting,” Nadine mumbled.

“Oh, of course.” Adrianne glanced round at the fully stocked quiver slung across Nadine’s back. “Looks like you’re running low.”

Nadine sighed. “Fine. I’m here because of the damned letter. Who’s the mystery guest?”

A cruel, satisfied smile curved Adrianne’s lips. “Can’t say.”

“Can’t or won’t?”

“Does it matter? Wait until Fredas.”

It was currently Tirdas. Nadine feared she would go insane with the suspense.

“Please at least tell me something about them.”

Adrianne returned to her smithing, happily humming under her breath as she pretended not to hear Nadine’s grumbling.

Good. She wouldn’t mind her taking a look around the shop, then.

She flung open the doors of Warmaiden’s, startling Ulfberth as she stormed in.

“Hey there, girl. What brings you to Warmaiden’s today?”

“Got Adrianne’s note. Can you tell me anything about who is going to be in attendance on Fredas?”

“Sorry, girl. No can do.”

Nadine leaned over the counter, making sure her cleavage was visible as she traced Ulfberth’s arm lightly with her finger. “Are you sure?”

His steely eyes met hers, as if to say: are you?

She wasn’t. She considered pursuing, then relented, withdrawing her hand like a thief caught pickpocketing. Ulfberth emitted a low, rumbling chuckle at her defeat, bidding her a good day as she skulked out of the shop.

The sun was still barely in the sky by the time Nadine arrived outside the familiar doors of the meadery, key in hand. She entered, seeing Adrianne making preparations.

“Didn’t kill you to wait until tonight, then?” Adrianne called over, smirking.

“You said you weren’t one for cloak and dagger,” Nadine shot back, barely missing a beat as she sat down her satchel. “So spill. Who’s the mystery guest?”

“All in good time, pet,” Adrianne smiled, clearly enjoying the anticipation she was building. “You have to get ready first, then I’ll tell you all about it. Obviously you’ll need to wear something appropriate.” She handed Nadine a black dress, the cotton fabric sheer enough for her to see her fingers through. “Here’s your attire for tonight. Ingun should be waiting for you in the bathhouse - if you ask her nicely, she might paint your face and plait your hair, too.”

Nadine half-chuckled, half-shuddered at the suggestion. Ingun’s mixture of cruelty and haughtiness put her in mind of her older sister Rosaline - remembering how she used to tug at her hair as she yanked it into neat, intricate plaits, ignoring Nadine’s yelps of indignance as she twisted the raven locks over one another, looping flowers and berry sprigs into the spaces between. Whenever she complained, feeling as if the hairs were being wrenched from her scalp, Rosaline would just sigh at her as if dreadfully inconvenienced by the whole thing and remind her that beauty is pain, dear sister.

With urgency, Nadine performed the now-familiar ritual of bathing and grooming, Ingun helping ensure that every inch of her was shaven bare. She also, as Adrianne had jested, coiffed and teased her hair into a pretty bun and daubed her lips and cheeks with something deep red and perfumed. When they were finished, Ingun held up the looking glass, and what looked back was someone Nadine barely recognised - large, soot-lined hazel eyes, burning with equal parts eager curiosity and sinful deviance. Her cheeks were flushed with both her own excitement and the product Ingun had adorned her with; her lips, full and stained the very colour of her deep desire. An elaborate braid adorned her head, a few dark, delicate tendrils falling to her pale neck.

The thin black fabric of her dress clung obscenely to her breasts, the outline of her stiff nipples plainly visible. The only thing that kept them from spilling out was gravity; one imperceptible move of Nadine’s body and they were sure to escape. The garment had clearly been designed to ensure that there was just enough fabric to cover her modesty, and no more. Nadine recognised this would be a problem, as she was forbidden to wear any smallclothes, and any small bend or reach would cause this to be displayed rather brazenly to company. It would absolutely be less embarrassing to just be naked.

In short, she looked like a whore. She found this a less humiliating realisation than she thought.

Adrianne met her with an approving gaze when she returned, her mouth curving into a wicked smile. “Ready for dinner service, I see - well, almost. Go see Ulfberth for your collar. I’m sure he’ll want to see you.”

She approached Ulfberth with some trepidation. It had been a while since they’d last played with one another, but his imposing presence was no less prominent in her mind, especially after their last encounter in Warmaiden’s.

“Sir? I’ve been sent to receive my collar for the evening.”

He turned around, raising an eyebrow as he took her in. She was sure she heard him draw a sharp intake of breath as a faint smile traced behind his beard. Ulfberth wrapped the cool, soft leather around her neck, the feeling both startling and familiar in equal measure. As he reached round to clasp the buckles in place, he brushed away the stray tendrils of hair and whispered in her ear:

“By the Nine, you’re a delicious little slut.”

Nadine’s skin blazed white-hot as Ulfberth’s beard grazed against her ear, his gravelly voice sending shivers down her spine. She was already dreading the no smallclothes protocol; absolutely nothing could stop her desire from tracing its way hot and slick down her thighs. Flushed and flustered, she returned to Adrianne.

“Ready to serve, Miss.”

“So you are,” Adrianne said, smirking. “What did Ulfberth say when he saw you?”

“He… he said I was a delicious little slut, Miss.”

“Well, he wasn’t wrong,” Adrianne remarked matter-of-factly, a wry smile creeping across her face. “Now, I suppose I should tell you a bit about our guest and the nature of this evening. It’s an initiation, so you won’t be the new blood anymore.”

Nadine breathed a faint sigh of relief. Somehow a new submissive was less daunting than a new Master or Mistress entering the fold.

Adrianne continued. “What else to tell...they have a penchant for thievery, which is how Brynjolf and Vex discovered them. Well, that’s how they say they discovered them. Asked them to run a job for the Thieves Guild, stealing a warhammer from a pair of blacksmiths camping out in Darkwater Crossing, and ended up encroaching on quite a sight at the hot springs…any of this sound familiar to you?”

Nadine nodded. With the exception of a few details, it was almost the story of her own entry.

As the rest of the members bustled in through the doors, Nadine busied herself setting the table and serving drinks along with Ingun and Ysolda. As the two passed each other, she saw Ysolda give her an approving look, and could swear she saw bruise-like marks lining her neck. 

“Ladies and Gentlemen, please welcome our new potential initiate.” Brynjolf’s voice rang out across the sanctum hall. To his far left stood Vex, and in the middle of the two, a Bosmer male, his copper hair pulled tight into a high ponytail and a blush creeping across his face.

“Everyone, this is Gwilin from Ivarstead.”

Dinner felt like an eternity, Nadine working harder than usual to serve the table. As she suspected, it was fiendishly difficult to do anything without exposing herself, and the rest of the dinner guests made sure she knew it. Had Ingun and Ysolda been quite so bare when she was initiated, she wondered? She’d been far too busy being nervous about the evening’s activities to notice.

This evening, she was tense, bordering on impatient. She hadn’t even considered that the new recruit might be male. Not that she was disappointed. Quite the opposite, in fact. Gwilin seemed kind, sweet, and genuinely eager to please - all qualities that endeared him to her, especially when combined with the tales of his own naughty deeds. Nadine also had a fondness for elves - Bosmer especially. She was particularly curious to find out if the rumours about their ears were true.

Nadine found herself swept away by her own thoughts once again as she cleared the table. Would Gwilin’s initiation be the same as hers? How would his sweet nature cause him to fare? As if in response, Adrianne’s voice rang out, clear and melodic.

“Well pet, are you ready to begin?”

Gwilin nodded. “Yes, Miss.”

“Excellent. We need to go get ready, but make yourself at home. Grab a drink, and get comfortable in the arena.”

It was strange being on the other side of the initiation ceremony. Nadine recognised the words, but realised she was to go with the others to prepare for what was to come. The Sanctum members made their way through to the bathhouse, squeezing through the narrow corridors, changing into (or out of) their finery as they discussed their intentions.

The crowd returned to the Sanctum hall, descending the stairs to the arena. Gwilin sat perched on the armchair, much as Nadine had on her initiation evening, sipping his Honningbrew nervously.

“All acquainted with the dungeon, pet?” Adrianne asked with a sweetly wicked smile on her face.

“Y-yes, Miss.” Gwilin’s blush ran from his cheeks up to the tips of his pointed ears. Gods, he was adorable.

“Good. Still happy to go ahead with your initiation?” Adrianne’s voice was wonderfully reassuring, her singsong tone honeyed and soothing.

Gwilin met her reassurance in kind, smiling. “Yes Miss.”

“And you remember your safewords, pet?”

“Yes, Miss - ebony for stop, iron to slow down or lower intensity.”

“Excellent. Because your initiation is about to begin.”

Adrianne’s reassuring demeanour melted away as she gestured for Ingun and Ysolda to join her.

“Girls, show us the new meat.”

Nadine watched as the pair undressed Gwilin even more unceremoniously than they had undressed her, tugging his tunic over his head and yanking his boots from his feet, followed by his breeches and loincloth. He had an unusually athletic build for a Bosmer - not overly muscular like Ulfberth or even Brynjolf, but he had toned, broad shoulders and a defined chest, clearly borne from his duties working in Ivarstead, as well as his apparent aptitude for marksmanship. He also had a rather attractive cock - modest in size, but more than capable of getting the job done, if Brynjolf and Vex’s testimonies were anything to go by.

“Very nice indeed, pet. It’s so good to see your body presented for us.”

Gwilin’s face flushed furiously as his cock sprung upwards, his arousal even more obvious than Nadine’s had been. A small bead of precum glistened on the tip, enticing and inviting; further evidence of his intense desire.

Adrianne eyed him with a look of amused approval before speaking. “Ingun, bind his wrists behind him.”

She complied, giving his arse a firm squeeze as she departed. Gwilin seemed to enjoy the attention; Adrianne less so.

“I said bind his wrists, not feel him up.”

“Sorry, Miss,” Ingun smirked, not a trace of contriteness present.

“Oh, you will be,” Adrianne said. “Join the others.” Turning back to Gwilin, her demeanour softened slightly as she spoke. “Kneel.”

Nervously, he obeyed, taking one knee and then another, careful to keep his balance with the absence of his hands to rest on. He looked up at Adrianne, taking in every inch of her gorgeously sculpted form, eyes wide and face set in a combination of awe and fear.

“So, Gwilin. Ever make it to High Hrothgar?”

A faint look of confusion crossed his face. “No, Miss.”

“Well, consider this first trial your very own Throat of the World. I have it on very good authority that this sweet little mouth of yours does more than just speak, is that correct?”

“Yes, Miss.” The words were scarcely more than a whisper.

“Excellent. Because our plan is to put that mouth to good use, and see just how well you can do. As you’ve probably noticed, there are rather a lot of men here - some you know, some you don’t - and all who are eager to experience your particular talents first hand.”

Gwilin’s eyes widened - a rabbit caught in a trap, looking up at the hunter; save for the rock-hard appendage throbbing between his legs. Nadine recognised, even through the trepidation, that same eagerness and hunger she felt time after time. She had never considered just how attractive it looked from the other side, however. Witnessing this sweet, unassuming Bosmer being trussed up and humiliated was wholly arousing in ways Nadine hadn’t expected. She could already feel the desire burn in her core, wetness pooling to join it but never serving to extinguish the flame.

“Let’s start out gentle, shall we? Drevis, you can be the first to break in our new potential pet.”

“With pleasure, dear Adrianne.”

Drevis took his time disrobing, staring down at Gwilin with a sinister smile on his angular face. Nadine knew from experience just how terrifying that particular look was; even witnessing it by proxy made a shiver roll down her spine. It seemed to be having a similar effect on Gwilin, who was unable to look the Dunmer in the eye as he shifted uncomfortably on his knees.

Drevis caressed Gwilin’s face deliberately with long grey fingers, tracing across the sharp structure of the Bosmer’s features and making him purr. With his other hand, he pressed his cock against Gwilin’s full, flushed lips, easing it in to his mouth as he opened to accept it. Once in, he needed little persuading, lavishing the hard appendage with long, sloppy licks and fervent sucks as he gradually took more and more of Drevis’ length into his mouth. Having his hands bound behind his back hadn’t seemed to have hindered him at all, as his head bobbed steadily up and down on the Dunmer’s cock, the two making noises of unbridled pleasure.

“That’s enough, brohadik,” Drevis purred, slowly pulling his cock from Gwilin’s wet, whimpering mouth, stroking his cheek as he did so. “Save some stamina for the others, dear boy.”

Giraud approached, loosening the laces on his leather breeches as he smiled approvingly. “Perhaps I won’t have much to teach you, hmm? Let’s find out.”

No sooner had he pulled his cock out of his loincloth than Gwilin enveloped it in his mouth, his tongue tracing the bottom as he took it in. Giraud took more of an active role in the proceedings, wrapping his hands in the Bosmer’s ponytail as he guided him further onto his cock. Every inch he received he took effortlessly and hungrily, now seemingly unbothered by the crowd of wide-eyed onlookers appreciating his craft. He was a much quicker study than Nadine had been, and his careful workings were yielding a positive response from Giraud, whose breaths were intermittently punctuated by low, lustful growls.

Giraud smiled, eyes dazed as he slowed his pace and pulled out. “I think I might have a new star pupil, Master Gwilin.”

“You’re too kind, Sir.” Gwilin’s face flushed with pride as he gazed adoringly at the man before him. Nadine recognised that look - half awe-struck, half lust-filled, completely smitten to have been praised for a job well done. It was a feeling she was acutely familiar with. Obviously, Gwilin was a man after her own heart.

That wasn’t the only similarity they had, either. Nadine saw Gwilin’s cock harden further when Brynjolf approached, the thief’s own thick member barely being contained in his leather codpiece.

“I told them I could vouch for you, but I guess they wanted to witness first hand,” Brynjolf shrugged, grinning faux-apologetically as he did away with his codpiece. “Sorry, lad. Rules are rules.”

Gwilin didn’t seem to mind. He greeted his cock like an old friend, having a familiarity that he had lacked with the previous men. Brynjolf met his familiarity in kind, grasping his ponytail and thrusting into the Bosmer’s mouth more vigorously than Giraud had. The sounds of Gwilin’s attentions reverberated across the arena - wet, sloppy, sucking noises punctuated by needy, muffled moans and low, guttural growls.

The pair parted reluctantly, Brynjolf’s cock leaving Gwilin’s mouth with a loud, slick pop. “Good lad,” Brynjolf purred, gently patting the Bosmer on the head. Nadine could swear she heard a whine escape Gwilin’s swollen lips as he nuzzled himself against Brynjolf’s touch, his eyes burning with desire and unbridled need. She recognised that look, too.

Nazir’s arm snaked its way around Brynjolf’s waist as he loomed over Gwilin, surveying him with dark, smirking eyes. “By Sithis, where do you find all these eager cocksluts, Bryn?”

“I get around,” Brynjolf responded, returning the Redguard’s smirk.

“I’ll say,” Nazir said, laughter lacing his rich baritone voice. He took his time removing his codpiece, Gwilin shivering under his gaze. “And yet you always forget to tell them you’re bringing them into an underground sex dungeon with sadistic assassins who might have a contract out on their soul. Irresponsible.”

Gwilin’s face paled, his eyes widening and darting over to Brynjolf for reassurance that what the man was saying wasn’t true.

“Only joking, boy. I don’t mix business and pleasure.” Nazir smiled, his demeanour softening almost imperceptibly. “As long as you’re in the Sanctum, the Dark Brotherhood has no claim to your soul.”

Gwilin breathed a sigh of relief. This was a bad move.

Nazir whispered something in Brynjolf’s ear, to which the thief nodded and departed. Turning back to Gwilin, his mouth curled into a cruel smile.

“That doesn’t mean I don’t have a claim to it, though.”

Gwilin’s trepidation returned, biting his lip nervously as a shudder ran through him. “I’ll do whatever you ask, Sir.”

“Oh, I know you will. You’ve been so very eager to please.”

Brynjolf returned, holding two metal balls - one a deep silver in colour, the other void-black.

“I believe your safewords were iron and ebony?”

Gwilin nodded his head at Nazir, slowly realising the objects’ purpose as Brynjolf placed them in each of his still-bound hands.

“Iron’s in your left hand, ebony is in your right,” Nazir explained, his voice taking on an uncharacteristically reassuring tone. Nadine had never heard Nazir this gentle before. A sharp shiver rolled down her spine, in anticipation of what was to come. “If you need to use them, raise your hand - Brynjolf will be watching, and he’ll let me know. Isn’t that right, Bryn?”

“Absolutely, lad.”

Gwilin’s eyes brimmed with emotion - fear battling with need, Nadine presumed. It reminded her of when she had been subjected to the gauntlet. And much like with the gauntlet, it reminded her that such looks essentially fuelled Nazir’s fire.

Thick, brown fingers traced across the golden skin of Gwilin’s delicate face, the man’s gentle caresses at odds with the menacing figure that administered them. Gwilin squirmed beneath his touch, obviously unsure whether he enjoyed Nazir’s attentions or not. Nadine was acutely aware of that particular psychological torture - being unsure if his intentions were genuine or if she was being lured into a trap.

“Aren’t scared of me, are you, boy?” Nazir’s voice purred, deep and velvet-smooth.

Gwilin’s eyes darted away from the Redguard, unable to hold his gaze. “No, Sir.”

“Terrible. Don’t bother lying to me,” Nazir growled. “Open wide.”

Gwilin obeyed, the entirety of Nazir’s length being thrust into his mouth with surprising force. Where with the other men there had been some give and take, Nazir simply fucked Gwilin’s face. He pumped in and out of the Bosmer’s mouth roughly as he gripped his hands around his ponytail, yanking parts of the hair out of its binding with his vigour. The sucking noises were cacophonous and obscene; Nazir’s panting and Gwilin’s muffled whimpers and gags punctuating them. At points, Nadine wasn’t sure he could breathe, his face reddening and tears forming in his eyes.

“Iron.” Brynjolf’s voice cut over the sounds of struggled sucking.

Nazir nodded, loosening his grip slightly as he slowed his pace. His thrusts were still ruthless, but appeared to be more manageable for Gwilin, as he accepted Nazir’s formidable length down his throat with impressive ability. Spit ran down his chin, dribbling on to the floor, eyes watering and jaw straining to take it all, but he persevered, letting Nazir use him as he saw fit.

Eventually, Nazir’s attentions relented, pulling Gwilin from his stiff cock by his ponytail. The Bosmer looked up at him, dazed, spit-soaked and breathless.

“Fine work, boy,” Nazir crooned, delivering a couple of playful pats to his flushed cheek. Gwilin gasped for air as he gazed up at the Redguard, body shaking and face full of giddy, dazed lust. Nazir stroked his hair gently, soothing him with gentle words, praising him for a job well done. Nadine could just make out the thin strand of precum which now dripped from his cock, joining the saliva in the puddle on the floor. Gods, but he was delicious. Not to mention incredibly talented. If this had been Nadine’s particular trial on her initiation, she probably wouldn’t be standing here.

A wave of quiet ran through the arena as the crowd waited with bated breath for the final trial. One man remained, but that man was Ulfberth War-Bear, whose endowment was as large and imposing as the man himself. Nadine had never been able to manage more than half of it, and the only person within the Sanctum she’d ever seen tackle the entirety of the behemoth member with their mouth was his wife Adrianne.

Ulfberth towered over Gwilin, his muscular frame in marked contrast to the Bosmer’s lithe, willowy one. Despite the staggering size difference, Ulfberth’s presence seemed to soothe rather than intimidate, his kind blue eyes smiling down at Gwilin.

“Holding up alright, cub?”

Gwilin nodded, smiling back at Ulfberth. If he was nervous about climbing the metaphorical High Hrothgar that awaited, it didn’t show.

“Good. Because I can’t wait to fuck your sweet little mouth again.”

Gwilin barely waited for Ulfberth to position himself at his mouth before descending on his cock, lavishing the thick member with soft, sweet kisses that ran from the head down to the hard, throbbing shaft, gradually turning into sloppy licks that traced back to where he had began. It was clear he wanted to take his time, and Ulfberth was obviously happy to let him, letting out a blissful sigh as he basked in the attention. He took Gwilin’s ponytail in his hand, running the copper locks languidly through his fingers, and guided his cock into Gwilin’s mouth.

Gwilin’s lips parted and pressed against Ulfberth’s formidable head, enveloping it as it was eased into his mouth, inch by thick, hard inch. Ulfberth took his mouth with care, thrusting in part way in then sliding out, cock slick with spit. The pace was slower than Nazir’s had been, allowing Gwilin to take everything he was given. Ulfberth slid in further, eliciting slight gagging noises from the Bosmer, but no pause from his attentions and no words spoken from Brynjolf. This seemed to please Ulfberth, who lovingly stroked Gwilin’s hair while muttering words of approval through short, choked breaths.

Nadine gazed in awe as she realised Gwilin was mere inches from taking the entire thing. By the Divines, where did he put it? Ulfberth’s strokes were slower, more deliberate now, allowing Gwilin to accept him and adjust to his size. Gwilin’s fervent sucking continued, eager to please his Master, saliva now cascading down his pointed chin. Ulfberth’s thrusts had slowed to almost a stop, Gwilin now dictating the pace and depth, wet, slick mouth enveloping his cock nearly entirely.

In the end, he couldn’t manage it all, but that was hardly the point; what he had managed was staggering. She saw Ulfberth throw back his head in anguished ecstasy as Gwilin laved his cock with his skilful mouth, withdrawing the engorged member with a loud growl of frustrated desire.

“Fuck, that was hard to hold off. Adrianne’s got competition.” Ulfberth grinned at Gwilin, steely blue eyes meeting the Bosmer’s glimmering brown ones. “You’ve definitely passed the first half of your initiation, cub.”

Gwilin’s eyes widened. “First half?”

Ulfberth nodded. “Yep. Didn’t think this was it, did ya?” He let out a low chuckle, softly stroking Gwilin’s nervous face. “Don’t worry though, we’ll give your mouth a break. We’ll be the ones doing the work in the second part.”

Nadine stood beside Ingun and Ysolda, waiting for her orders. In front of her was the rack where Gwilin had been mounted and strapped, supine. Adrianne stood next to him, attending to him with an almost maternal care before turning to the women. Her demeanour hardened.

“Well, girls. I trust you’ve all behaved this week? Let’s hope so, because there’s a treat in store if you have.”

Nadine’s heart raced. The combination of hearing there was to be a new guest and Vex’s lesson the previous week had ensured her behaviour was faultless.

“Ingun. When was the last time you came?”

“Two weeks ago, with Master Drevis, Miss,” Ingun responded, a smile of twisted pride on her face.

Adrianne raised an eyebrow. “I guess that would explain your inappropriate behaviour with our new guest earlier, then. Good. Since you’re so happy about well you’ve performed, you won’t mind going another week without release.”

Ingun’s smug look swiftly vanished, realising the grave mistake she’d made. She opened her mouth to say something, but then obviously thought better of it, straightening her face into a mask of controlled contention. It was Adrianne’s turn to look smug this time, smiling cruelly at Ingun before continuing down the line.

“Nadine?”

“One week ago, Miss.” Nadine smiled, remembering the encounter. “With Mistress Vex.”

Adrianne’s expression remained unchanged. “And you’ve been performing better on your homework assignment, I trust?”

Nadine nodded, careful not to seem too self-congratulatory as she responded. “Yes, Miss - I can nearly manage all of the cucumber, now. I’ve been better at holding off from release, too, although in all honesty I’ve had to abstain from thinking of such things because I haven’t trusted myself to not go too far this week.” Nadine blushed, realising the frankness of her admissions in front of a still relative stranger. “You can read my notes if you’d like, Miss.”

“Can’t help but be the teacher’s pet, can you, Nadine?” Adrianne smirked, the hint of a playful glint in her eye. “Almost as bad as Ingun, but at least I can trust you to behave. Good work.” She worked her way down to Ysolda, eyes immediately zeroing in on the plum coloured marks lining her neck.

“So, Ysolda. What about you?”

Ysolda’s face burned as red as her hair, barely able to look Adrianne in the eye as she mumbled her answer. “Three nights ago… with Mikael.”

Ingun snorted, earning her a death glare from Adrianne. She turned back to the redhead, eyebrow cocked.

“What, the bard?” Adrianne asked. “The one that Nadine clobbered the other week?”

Ysolda nodded, scowling. “Yes, him.”

“Well, well, well...I’d say that you’ve punished yourself enough, but we both know that’s not true. You just can’t help yourself, can you, slut?”

Ysolda’s blush deepened as she gazed downwards. “No, Miss.”

Adrianne stroked Ysolda’s hair, equal parts loving and menacing. “Poor, desperate, needy slut. Too bad for you.” Her touch lingered before turning to address Nadine. “Good news, pet. Since your competitors are so poorly behaved, you get to be the first to try out the new plaything.”

Nadine’s heart raced, eyes widening at the Bosmer bound at her mercy on the rack.

“There are rules, of course. If he uses his safe words, you must obey at once, regardless of how near your own release you are. You are allowed to come once, and then you must stop.” Turning to Gwilin, Adrianne grinned. “In case you haven’t realised, the second part of your initiation is where we test to see if you can hold off your own pleasure better than this slut here. You’d better hope you can, because trust me, she’s not going to.”

Gwilin’s cock twitched violently upwards, his body already betraying him.

“Oh, and Nadine?” Adrianne’s mouth curved into a smile more sinister than Nadine had ever seen from the woman. “If you do manage to make him come, there’s something special in it for you.”

Oh, Gods. She didn’t want Gwilin to fail his initiation - he’d performed so well. But she was so terribly desperate to come, and the idea of making the sweet Bosmer unravel underneath her seemed like a reward in itself.

Nadine approached the rack, taking in every inch of Gwilin. Being nearer him now, she could appreciate minute details she had missed before - the golden smoothness of his skin, complimented by scant, soft copper hairs tracing his chest; a rich tuft leading from his belly button down to his crotch. His cock stood erect, still dripping with his desire, enticing Nadine to take a taste.

Biting her lip, Nadine spoke. “May I suck his cock please, Miss?”

Adrianne quirked an eyebrow, a surprised smirk creeping across her face. “Poor, sweet Gwilin. You really do want that reward, don’t you?”

Nadine squirmed. There was rather a lot she wanted.

“Why don’t you ask him?”

The realisation suddenly hit Nadine that these were to be the first words she would speak to Gwilin. At least with the others she’d had the chance to introduce herself; apparently with him the opportunity to say hello was replaced with something more base and detached, the two familiarising themselves through carnality rather than small talk.

Nadine looked into Gwilin’s deep brown eyes, his face flushing to match her own. “Would you like me to suck your cock?”

Gwilin’s face twisted in anguished desire, his breaths short and panting as his cock twitched rapidly. “Yes please, Miss Nadine.”

His tone was soft and pleading, and only served to spur Nadine on. She knelt before him, the hard stone floor familiar beneath her as she caressed his thighs, revelling in his sharp sighs of delight. Decisively, she gripped his cock, laving it with her tongue and lapping up the long strand of precum that dripped down from the head, making satisfied moans as she did so.

“Gods, you’re delicious,” Nadine purred, smiling at Gwilin as she stroked his length, eliciting a moan from him as he struggled to maintain composure. Continuing her ministrations, she took as much of Gwilin as she could, sucking slowly and tenderly before withdrawing. She stood, her naked form in front of Gwilin’s. The rack had stirrups so that she could climb on top, allowing her to fuck the Bosmer however she wished. Gwilin must feel completely helpless, being unable to move, essentially an object to be fucked. Her cunt throbbed with profound need at the thought.

This was wrong. Wasn’t it? Gwilin was a person, with thoughts, opinions, emotions. Then again, so was Nadine, and Gods knew she got off on the idea of being used, of being no more than an object to be fucked. She thought back to her own initiation - how she had been stripped and told to mount the table, and groped by every Sanctum member. Divines’ sake, she herself was strapped and fucked by Drevis, for the pleasure of a watching crowd. All throughout, there was Adrianne’s voice in her mind, reassuring her - if there’s something you don’t want, use your safeword. She had wanted it - that was why she was there. Judging by the stiffness of Gwilin’s cock, he also wanted it. But for her own peace of mind, she had to ask.

“Can I fuck you?”

Gwilin swallowed, voice thick with need. “Please, Miss Nadine.”

Miss Nadine. Being called that was completely intoxicating. It made her feel powerful; dominant, even. For the first time she wondered what it would be like to turn tables with Adrianne or Vex; to be the one commanding rather than obeying. She straddled Gwilin, placing her feet into the stirrups as she mounted his cock.

She wasn’t patient, taking him in and revelling in the feeling of being filled. She had never been in this position before, but soon realised she enjoyed the leverage it allowed her. She took Gwilin in fully, grinding herself against him at the hilt, gasping at the new, unique sensation.

Gwilin’s breaths were short and ragged, his eyes heavy-lidded. He didn’t look like he could take much more. Nadine traced her fingers across his golden skin, marvelling at how soft it was, playing with the strands of hair that escaped his ponytail as she dotted his face and neck with gentle kisses, leaving deep red stains in their wake.

“Fuck, you’re gorgeous,” Nadine whispered, feeling Gwilin squirm beneath her.

“M-Miss Nadine…” Gwilin’s voice was little more than a whimper.

Nadine’s hand traced down to her clit, feeling herself slick and hot as she circled and teased, slowly picking up the pace of her fucking. She could no longer do slow and gentle - she needed release. She gripped onto Gwilin’s ponytail with her free hand, taking the sight of him in as she impaled herself on his cock, frantically playing with herself as she did so. His passion-plumped lips, so skilled at pleasuring other men, moaning in desire for her; his golden skin, marked with her kisses; marks like on Ysolda’s neck, marks that she could have left if only she’d went with her rather than that stupid bard, but fuck him, fuck anyone that wasn’t the beautiful man beneath her right now.

Nadine rode Gwilin harder, her grip on his ponytail intensifying as she chased her release. Both their breaths were shallow and ragged; hers from the effort of fucking, his from the effort of trying to delay the inevitable. Gwilin’s lips parted, his eyes glazed, silently begging. With that, Nadine was undone, crying out in high, sharp wails as she came hard around Gwilin’s cock, kissing him passionately on the lips as she rode out the aftershocks.

“Thank you so much, Gwilin,” she whispered in his ear as she climbed off him, wiping the sweat from his brow as she left. He responded with something resembling a thank you in return, but it was decidedly shakier.

Nadine returned to the fold, shaky-legged and blissful.

Adrianne smiled. “Enjoy yourself?”

“Yes, Miss. Thank you.”

“Did you make Gwilin come, pretty pet?”

Nadine bit her lip. “I don’t think so, Miss. I tried not to.”

Smirking, Adrianne responded. “How magnanimous. It cost you a chance to come again this week, but at least you saved poor Gwilin from failing his initiation, hmm?”

Nadine felt a twist of frustration at the words, but ultimately decided that she was happy with her decision. She could wait another week if it meant Gwilin becoming a permanent fixture.

Adrianne turned to Gwilin, eyes brimming with adoration. “Well done on passing your initiation, sweet pet. I think it’s time we welcomed you properly, hmm?”

Nadine looked in wonder at the new recruit, sporting his new uniform. She was smitten. How was it possible that Gwilin looked even cuter in a collar? Being within the Sanctum suited him, like he had always been there. Nadine wondered if that had been how she looked when she joined, or if the sight of her collared had been foreign and unusual to the others.

“So, initiate - ready for your prize?”

Gwilin’s eyes widened. “I thought the collar was my prize, Miss.”

“It’s part of it, sweet pet,” Adrianne said, smiling. “But it’s not the whole thing. The men have got something special in store for you - their own way of congratulating you on a job well done. Us ladies will have fun and watch the show. How does that sound?”

Blushing, Gwilin responded, “Perfect, Miss.”

“Good. Why don’t you get comfortable on the bed over there?”

Gwilin complied as Adrianne turned to the others. “Men, if you’d prepare the new recruit for his reward.”

“Sure thing, Adrianne,” Ulfberth replied gleefully. The crowd dwindled, and the women remained.

“So, Aela and myself will be spending some time together this evening,” Adrianne smiled, wrapping her arm around the copper-haired huntress. “Vex and Astrid have decided to put the two badly behaved sluts to good use. That just leaves you, Nadine.”

Nadine blinked, trying to work out what this meant for her.

“What I neglected to tell you was that Gwilin would have passed his initiation regardless of whether you made him come or not. Terribly sorry.” Adrianne smirked with a sardonicism that rivalled Vex’s. “We just wanted to see if sweet Nadine would be swayed to betray her new compatriot for the chance to grab a prize. And what a prize it would have been. You liked the feeling of newfound power, I trust?”

Nadine’s body burned, shocked to have been found out so quickly. “Yes, Miss.”

“Of course you did, pet. Who wouldn’t? If you’d pushed our new recruit over the edge, you could have made your first step on your path to dominating and controlling others. Maybe you could have even had sweet Gwilin bound underneath you, obeying your every command one day.” Adrianne’s smile was cold, cruel. “But you chose mercy. You put Gwilin’s needs above your own. A noble move - but one ultimately borne of restraint and submission. A move that cost you your chance to taste true power, as well as your chance to come again this week.”

Nadine bowed her head, crushed at the revelation. There’s always a fucking catch.

“Don’t be too hard on yourself, sweet Nadine. It’s still Gwilin’s party, after all. And since you were so altruistic, we think you deserve a front row seat.”

Nadine let herself be led to the armchair in front of the bed, where Gwilin now laid, arms shackled. She sat down, noticing the matching shackles lining the arms and legs of the chair she was sitting on, realising what her fate was to be as her wrists and ankles were fastened in place.

“Enjoy the show, pet. I want you to think about this all week as you deny yourself.”

The men stood around Gwilin, stroking themselves languidly as they took him in with approving eyes. The only man who wasn’t present was Drevis, who was presumably currently invisible, much like he had been during Nadine’s initiation. Oh Gods, did this mean…?

“Congratulations, hla’brohadik,” Drevis purred, appearing in a sudden glow of arcane light at Gwilin’s feet. “Quite the performance you gave during your initiation. I think it’s only right we return the favour and show you just how appreciative we all were, hmm?”

Gwilin’s eyes pleaded; his cock strained.

“Now, I trust some lucky person has had the pleasure of taking this divine arse of yours before?”

“Once or twice, Sir.” Gwilin smiled shyly.

“Good. Tonight the pleasure will be all mine. You won’t see much of me, but trust me - I’ll be there.”

With that, the man disappeared, leaving Gwilin looking completely baffled - at least for a short while. Red lines formed as invisible nails raked across his skin, soft flesh giving as it was manipulated. Gwilin’s thighs were parted and lifted, displaying him entirely to Nadine and the others, his cock twitching violently as he struggled against his restraints. Frustrated moans escaped his parted lips as something wet worked over his arsehole. Nadine could only hazard a guess as to what was happening, but she knew Drevis couldn’t make a bottle invisible, so she assumed he was using his tongue. Her own wetness dripped down her lips onto the leather upholstery of the chair, utterly frustrating in its temptation. She tried to clamp her thighs together or grind herself against the chair for some small relief, but the shackles held her firmly in place, ensuring she received no gratification or reprieve from her desperate need. By fucking Sanguine, this was torturous.

Drevis’ attentions continued, causing Gwilin’s cock to drip with need as he writhed and moaned, the men above him watching intently as they pleasured themselves. Gwilin’s cock was pumped and stroked by a phantom hand, a small glass bottle moving as if of its own volition to be poured over the Bosmer’s puckered arsehole. The space between them glistened, shapes blurred and softened by the oil as Drevis worked it onto himself and Gwilin, the slick sounds of the application filling in the blanks of what couldn’t be seen. Nadine gazed in awe as she watched Gwilin accept the invisible appendage, his hole stretching to take every inch of Drevis, her own desire burning furiously as she heard sharp, gasping moans escape the two men.

Gwilin’s cock continued to be manipulated as his arsehole gripped around Drevis. The soft, supple flesh of his buttocks pressed against his unseen lover, spreading obscenely to accept his member. Drevis picked up his pace, Gwilin’s arsehole gaping as it gripped to his cock, every thrust displaying him further. The space between shimmered and faded as Drevis briefly reappeared, cursing in Dunmeris as he did so.

“Sorry, daelheg; I swear that never usually happens,” Drevis laughed sheepishly, a translucent purple orb forming in his slender grey hand before he disappeared from sight once more.

If Gwilin was bothered by Drevis’ reappearance, it didn’t show. His wrists strained against the shackles as he ground himself against Drevis’ cock, his own still manipulated at the Dunmer’s hands. His lidded, lust-filled eyes darted between the men who stood above him, their hungry faces matching his own, stroking themselves intensely to the image of him being worked over by his invisible lover. His swollen, pinkened lips parted, emitting ragged breaths and barely audible gibberish, desperate and pleading.

One by one, the men released themselves over Gwilin, rivulets of thick, pearly cum like sweet sugar glazing the Bosmer’s golden skin. Greedily, Gwilin stuck out his tongue to catch the wayward strands and drips, purring with delight as they each presented him with their spent cocks to lick clean. Drevis’ attentions intensified, clearly spurred on by the depravity of the proceedings, causing Gwilin to squirm and moan with an equal intensity. Gwilin’s moans transcended to hoarse shouts, suddenly culminating in an ear-splitting cry of anguished ecstasy as he came all over himself. This in turn was enough to topple Drevis over the edge, who wailed in Dunmeris as he came inside Gwilin, his seed spilling out as he slowly withdrew.

It was one of the most wholly indecent sights Nadine had ever seen - this sweet, spent Bosmer, covered in the cum of every man and mer in the Sanctum, eyes as glazed as his body, the acts he had just been subjected to in stark contrast to his wholesome, innocent exterior. She smiled.

What a delicious little sweetroll.

Chapter Text

The following week was torturous. Adrianne’s words rang in Nadine’s ears, mocking and harsh. You chose mercy. A move borne of restraint and submission. A move that cost you your chance to taste true power, as well as your chance to come again this week. They twisted in her stomach like a blade, taunting her as she fought to keep control, lust filling her thoughts and driving her to distraction.

Nature saw fit to torture her, too; her menses struck the day before she was due to return to the Sanctum. She should have remembered. Masser was bright and blood-red in the sky, waxing gibbous, while Secunda echoed in ethereal opalescent tones. Ordinarily Nadine would have found the sight beautiful, but that evening they just served as a reminder of her own cruel fate. She sulkily sipped her wine and resigned herself to an uneventful, frustrating week. She kept herself busy by accepting as many odd jobs as she could, and enlisting the help of Marcurio, Riften's local spellsword. The latter was less than helpful - he was a fatal mix of incredibly handsome and unbearably arrogant, and by the time they parted ways the following Turdas Nadine didn't know if she wanted to fuck him or kill him.

Thankfully, her flow had subsided by the time next Fredas arrived, and she returned to the Sanctum with a new sense of purpose. She felt galvanised, ready to take on new challenges. This time, she wouldn't let her soft side get the better of her. The door opened with a thunk, the familiar scents of firewood and mead and leather rushing to meet her. It felt good to be home.

"Evening, Nadine," Ulfberth called from where he knelt, stoking the fire in the hearth. "The others are in the usual place."

Nadine thought about how she'd slotted into this new life so quickly. It all seemed like second nature to her now: the pendant around her neck, the journey to the meadery every Fredas, the routine and ritual of it all. Strangely, it was the one constant in her otherwise chaotic and ungrounded life, and she hadn't realised how much she'd needed it until it was there.

"Hello, Miss Nadine!" Gwilin turned toward the door of the bathhouse as Nadine entered, smiling warmly.

"Just Nadine, Gwilin," Ysolda corrected, running her fingers through his copper locks as she pulled them into a ponytail. "She isn't your Mistress, so she's just Nadine."

"Oh!" Gwilin's nose wrinkled, his cheeks flushing slightly. "Okay. Hello, Nadine. Have you been keeping well? We missed you last week."

Nadine smiled, disrobing. "I missed you all too. Glad to be back." She peeled off her stockings and smallclothes hurriedly, folding them into a haphazard heap. "Had an interesting week while I was away. And by interesting I mean bloody unbearable."

"Oh yeah," Ingun said, dunking her head underwater before surfacing. "Heard you met Marcurio."

Nadine met Ingun's knowing smirk with a raised brow as she descended into the tub. "Gods, did I meet him. You know him?"

"Darling, everyone in Riften knows him." Ingun's eyes twinkled. She leaned into Nadine, a conspiratorial look on her face. "Don't you think he'd be quite the get for the Sanctum?"

"What, like a more smug, arrogant version of Brynjolf?"

Ingun laughed, the sound surprisingly melodic and light. "I was thinking more like the petulant brat who needs to be taught a lesson." She considered for a minute, giving Nadine a wry smile. "Like you when you first arrived. No offense."

Nadine frowned, rankling at the accusation. “I wasn’t a brat.”

“Okay, maybe not a brat.” Ingun’s expression was uncharacteristically soft as she considered Nadine, swishing her fingers idly through the water. “You were more… fiery. Spoke with purpose. Nervous, but still held yourself as if you belonged.” Her green eyes pierced Nadine’s. “I can see why Vex calls you princess.”

Nadine’s face burned with embarrassment. She looked down, pretending she hadn’t noticed the grin on Ingun’s face as the other woman climbed out of the bath, rivulets of water running down her pale legs. She sauntered over, leaning towards Nadine. “I see a lot of myself in you, you know,” she whispered, her breath hot against Nadine’s skin, cold water dripping from her hair. “Nothing wrong with being headstrong, sweet Nadine. There’s strength in submission too, isn’t there?”

Nadine barely managed to choke out an agreement before Ingun trailed her fingers across Nadine’s shoulder and padded away, hips swaying.

Hurriedly, Nadine finished readying herself for the evening ahead, her blood rushing red-hot through her veins. She tried her best to suppress a shudder of lust when Ulfberth collared her, his strong hands fastening the supple leather tight. Whoever lays claim to me this evening won't have much trouble making me unravel completely, she thought ruefully.

Throughout dinner, she couldn't stop her mind from wandering. Adrianne, Ulfberth and Nazir fucking in the homestead as she watched guiltily. Admitting her discovery to Brynjolf, his cock straining in his trousers as he made her recount each lewd detail. The sting and thud of hands and floggers and paddles against her arse, her castigators making her beg for more. Drevis making her squirm and scream on the evening of her initiation to an awestruck crowd, her desire on display for all to see. Giraud's lessons, Ysolda's tongue, Vex's retribution, Gwilin's corruptible innocence. What was next?

"Nadine!" Ulfberth barked, shaking her from her reverie. "You got potatoes in your ears, girl? Line up, now."

"At once, Sir," Nadine responded, her tone a little more heated and sneering than she'd intended. By the look on Ulfberth's face, this had not gone unnoticed, but to her surprise, he said nothing. Let's not worry about that right now.

The submissives took the wall as their Masters and Mistresses approached, gazes appraising. Nadine swallowed. This part was still nerve-wracking.

"Gwilin and Ysolda, with Giraud and Brynjolf. Ingun, you're with Vex and Astrid this evening." Vex and Astrid? Someone had been misbehaving. "Nadine?" Ulfberth looked to her, a wicked glint in his ice-blue eyes. "You'll be spending this evening with Aela."

Nadine shivered. Never had she felt so much like she was being hunted as she did in that moment. Aela's gaze never faltered, her grey-blue eyes pinning Nadine to the spot like an arrow. Wild, barely-tamed copper locks flowed over her strong shoulders, and embossed silver bands adorned her toned, muscular arms. Everything about her dictated strong and capable warrior, and fearsome hunter. It both terrified and intrigued Nadine.

“Yes, Sir.” She stepped forward, readying herself for the evening ahead.

Both women stood in the furthest corner of the Sanctum arena, nestled between Ingun’s alchemy table and the cage. Candlelight shone through its bars, casting a shadow across the stone floor. Across the vast space, Nadine could hear Vex’s voice, sharp and clear, followed by Ingun’s more subdued one. Aela paced around Nadine, sizing her up. Nadine did her best to hold her head high, refusing to shrink or submit too readily. I refuse to be the sweet, delicate flower they think I am.

"Enjoy your two weeks of abstention, whelp?"

Nadine glowered before catching herself. She might have been impulsive, but she wasn’t a fool. There was no correct response to this.

"Answer me," Aela pressed. Apparently, she disagreed. Nadine could feel the heat rise in her chest, wild and blazing like magefire.

“Oh, it was wonderful,” she muttered. “What could be better than washing blood stains out of your smallclothes and then not getting to come for two weeks?”

“Watch your tone,” Aela warned, a glint in her eye.

Nadine couldn’t stop herself. “Or what, Miss? ”

Aela grabbed Nadine’s jaw, steel-blue eyes piercing into her own with unbridled fury. “Or you’ll find out just how much punishment a Companion can deliver, lamb. Somehow I doubt you can take it.”

Nadine knew she was flirting with danger, but the draw was too much. She met Aela’s stare with a sneer, running her finger across the strong contours of her jaw and neck. “You think so? Well, Miss Aela… I think this big bad wolf is all bark and no bite.” Her fingers lingered on Aela’s lips, the penultimate syllable ringing out in the silence. Aela’s jaw clenched, her expression somewhere between amusement and disbelief. Nervousness bubbled in the pit of Nadine’s stomach. She attempted to push it down, hoping to appear confident.

“I can smell your fear,” Aela murmured, her breath hot against Nadine’s fingertips. “Go on though, keep pretending to be brave. I like my prey with a little fight.”

Aela released Nadine from her grip, panting slightly as she pushed her back. The pair paced around each other, their gazes never faltering. Aela bore down, and Nadine stood steadfast, skin pricking with fear and desire as she made each step deliberately, dancing a dangerous dance.

“Go on then, huntress,” Nadine whispered, her lips barely touching Aela’s. “Make the first move.”

As soon as the words left her mouth, Aela grabbed her arms, spinning her around and pinning her in place in one fluid motion. Nadine squirmed, unable to free herself from Aela's vice grip, strong fingers digging uncomfortably into her flesh.

"Still content to fight back, whelp?"

Nadine writhed and snarled in response, grinding back against Aela. She kicked her legs. Aela’s own leg pinned hers in place, wrapping around tightly and trapping her against the huntress’ hard frame. Nadine thrashed in her grip, but felt the futility of her actions set in as her attempts at escape proved fruitless. Gods, how is she only holding me with one hand? Her struggling settled. Smooth, braided rope cinched around her wrists, binding them in place.

"Try wriggling your way out of this. I dare you."

Nadine’s hands clenched and twitched. She may not be able to escape through strength, but destruction magicka would surely make short work of the rope. Aela noticed her movements, grasping Nadine by the collar and pulling her back against her.

"Don't even think about it. Not unless you want to go another month without coming."

Nadine fought the fire burning in her bones. More malleable now, she let herself be bound further. Aela let the remainder of the rope fall to the floor, pacing to face Nadine.

"Are you ready to behave?"

Nadine swallowed. "Yes, Miss."

"I don't think you are, whelp," Aela said darkly, walking towards the display rack. She picked up a flogger, its tails studded with small stones. "But you will be."

The sound of Aela's feet against the stone floor cut through the silence, closer and closer, until she was once again out of Nadine’s sight. Nadine clenched her fists tight, willing herself to not give in to the cold, metallic fear that ran down her spine like a blade.

She didn't have time to process the cruel snap the flogger made before it connected with her arse, each pebble scoring her tender flesh. She cried out like a wounded animal.

"Sorry yet?"

Nadine panted, pain pulsing through her body. Her expression shifted from anguish to defiance. "Not even close."

Two more strikes whipped across her backside, the stinging impact of the stones even more cruel than the crack of the supple leather. Separately they hurt; together they were a special brand of brutal. Nadine yelped, her arse and her cunt aching in equal measure.

"How about now?" Aela growled, winding her fist in Nadine’s hair. Nadine whimpered, shaking her head in response. Three more blows rained down, and she cried out in guttural tones, straining against her bindings. The pain was intense, the heat searing. Still, it only served to further her arousal. Aela paced around, staring Nadine down. "Ready to yield, little mage?"

Nadine looked her straight in the eye, her gaze never faltering. Fucking make me. I dare you. "I can take plenty more, huntress."

Aela's hand gripped her, yanking her around unceremoniously and laying four more stripes across her tender, punished backside. Her knees buckled, nearly giving way, her breaths ragged and raw. Her fingernails dug into her palms as she fought to retain her last shreds of control.

"I can see you breaking, sweet lamb..."

"Fuck you," Nadine snarled. Before the last syllable had left her mouth, she knew she’d made a grave mistake. The five consecutive cracks of the flogger that followed were near-unbearable, pain pulsing through every fibre of her being. On the final blow, she crumbled, falling to her knees like a house of cards as Aela caught her.

"I'm sorry, Miss," she gasped, her body shaking. "I yield."

Aela bore down on her, heat and muscle and hunger. "Say it again, whelp."

"I'm sorry! Please Miss, I beg your forgiveness," Nadine whimpered, aching to the bone. She clung to her, head resting under Aela’s chin as she continued to tremble, barely holding herself up.

She sighed as Aela's lips touched hers - softly at first, tongue ghosting against them, then firmer, rougher, probing and nibbling like she aimed to devour. Nadine responded in kind, her tongue seeking Aela's as she moaned into her mouth. Every move she made caused Aela to up the ante, somewhere between a kiss and a competition. Oh, and the huntress has no idea just how competitive I am...

"Still some fight left in you, hmm?" Aela murmured, nibbling along Nadine's ear as her hand wandered across her breast.

"Fuck - sorry, Miss." She trembled as Aela moved downwards, suckling and biting on the pale flesh of her neck. Her fingernails scraped down Nadine's sides, making her yelp out in anguished desire.

"Just in case you forget," Aela growled, her voice razor-sharp in Nadine's ear. "You're mine. And I'm going to leave you with marks to prove it." Nadine let out a low whine, the burning need between her legs almost unbearable. "But first, I want to hear you say it."

"Please," Nadine whimpered, helpless. "Make me yours."

Aela obliged, taking Nadine's bottom lip between her teeth as her fingernails raked down her back, primal and merciless. Her other hand worked its way between Nadine's legs, fingers pressing into her, stroking deep.

Nadine's knees dug against the stone floor, every inch of her aching and shivering with intense need as Aela worked her over. Their kiss was a call and response: teeth grazing lips, tongues entwining, their moans echoing against each other like ocean waves. Nadine could barely breathe, her own release painfully imminent.

"Please, Miss," she stuttered, desperate. "I need - I can't...."

Aela's fingers withdrew, her grip tightening around Nadine's hips. "You want this so badly, don't you?" Her voice was mead-sweet. "Come here."

She pulled Nadine on top of her, coaxing her to straddle Aela’s bare thigh. Her nose brushed Nadine's cheek as she leaned into her ear, her whispers like fingernails tracing across her skin.

"Work yourself like the bitch in heat you are."

Nadine responded almost instantly, body ablaze as she ground shamelessly against Aela’s leg, seeking out her mouth once more. She needed the warm, familiar anchor of Aela’s lips almost as much as she needed release. Their tongues entwined as Nadine moaned, rutting against her with unabashed desperation. Her world narrowed to warmth and wetness, their hunger feeding one another as the pressure built within her. It hit her like a warhammer when it came, crushing and violent and agonisingly wonderful. She broke the kiss, howling into Aela's neck as she came against her leg, two weeks of pent-up frustration drenching her thigh. She gasped - for air, for sanity, for anything, aftershocks wracking her like an apocalypse.

Nadine’s world shifted slowly back into focus as she felt Aela’s touch; her fingers combing through her hair, her nails gently scratching her scalp. Nadine nuzzled into Aela's copper locks, breathing in the scent of her - leather and lavender and forge-steel and fresh-baked bread.

"You've left quite the mess, you know," Aela commented, tilting Nadine's chin up to face her. "Have to do something about that."

Nadine hummed with glee as she dismounted Aela, prostrating herself before her. Greedily, she lapped up her own excitement, the taste of her wetness mingling with Aela’s sweat. The combination was unspeakably exhilarating. Her hunger grew, and she slowly worked her way upwards, tongue tracing Aela’s inner thigh, not knowing or caring if she had permission. Aela’s grip tightened in her hair, gentle caresses morphing into rough tugs. “Is this what you want, naughty little whelp?” She pressed close, her hand firm on the back of Nadine’s neck, and Nadine whimpered against her, her lips barely touching the fine, dewy hairs of Aela’s sex. “Go on, then. Get to work.”

Instinctively, Nadine sought to curl her arms around Aela’s thighs, but they were still bound behind her. She whined but complied, intent on devouring Aela’s cunt as if it were her last meal.

Aela’s hand tightened in Nadine’s hair until she howled, her face pushed further into the huntress’ cunt. She was clearly determined to use Nadine as she saw fit, grinding against her as she chased her own pleasure, her prey’s desperate tongue-laps and sucks only serving to spur her on. “Don’t you dare stop, whelp,” she panted, her stuttered breaths and low moans betraying her own closeness.

Nadine couldn’t stop if she wanted to. Her tongue rolled against the flesh of Aela’s sex, the heat and taste of it the only thing she could possibly need. Aela’s thighs tightened around Nadine’s head as her orgasm flooded Nadine’s tongue, and she lapped up every last drop, feeling the huntress shake and twitch and roll against her.

Finally, Nadine’s head was let free as Aela slumped back, a thin sheen of sweat coating her skin. Nadine squirmed after her - in that moment, she couldn’t bear to be apart from her Mistress. Their breath was the only noise piercing the silence for a long time. Nadine’s head rested against Aela’s stomach, both bodies moving and breathing in unison before Aela shifted, retrieving her dagger from her sheath and slicing Nadine’s binds with one clean stroke.

“You might want to move your arms a bit,” she said. “Get the blood flowing in the right direction.”

Nadine smiled. She gazed at Aela, blissful and giddy and completely, utterly smitten. “That almost sounded like concern, Miss.”

“Well, you never know when I’ll decide to tie you up again, whelp.” Aela raised her eyebrows, challenging, but her grey eyes had softened, rain clouds instead of thunderheads. Nadine stretched her arms, rolling her wrists and wiggling her fingers until the blood rushed through them once more. The unspoken question hung heavy between them. What next? She was free, yet she couldn't find it in herself to pull away. Therein was the beauty in Aela's method, she thought; trapping her with cunning rather than strength. She reached over, tentatively brushing Aela's copper hair from her face.

"Where do you want me, Miss?"

In response, Aela gripped Nadine's wrists and rolled them over, pinning her to the floor. Nadine lay trapped, the strength and unyielding heat of Aela above her, the cold hardness of the stone beneath her - completely at the mercy of her Mistress.

"Gods, you're strong," she whispered, wide-eyed and awestruck. Aela smiled, rolling her hips against Nadine’s as she leaned in.

"Maybe you can take me, little firesprite," she murmured, nipping at Nadine's throat. "I'd love to watch you try."

Nadine grinned, arching her back. "Oh, it's a fight you're after?" She caught Aela's bottom lip between her teeth, smile widening as she heard the huntress moan. "Maybe I want to be caught this time."

Aela ducked her head, taking Nadine’s nipple between her teeth, and Nadine’s smile dissolved into a moan. "Somehow I doubt that." Her breath was hot against the flesh of Nadine's breasts. "I think if I got you worked up enough, you'd fight tooth and nail to get what you wanted. Am I right?" Her mouth clamped onto Nadine's other nipple, teasing and suckling as Nadine writhed under her.

Nadine's head lolled back, losing grip on her self-control once again. "Y-yes, Miss."

Aela let go of her wrists as she surfaced, staring her dead in the eye. "Go on, then, whelp," she drawled, a predatory smile on her face. "Try to take me."

It was a fight Nadine knew she would lose, but she didn't care. They weren't fighting for honour, or victory, or revenge. They weren't even really fighting at all. Their lips locked, tongues jousting; Nadine's hand fisted Aela's hair as the other scored her skin, the huntress growling and responding in kind. Their kissing grew more urgent, Nadine tracing the soft skin of Aela's breast before scratching, clawing, twisting. Aela bit her lip hard, drawing blood, and the tang of iron trickled into Nadine’s mouth as Aela lapped at the wound, grinding against Nadine's stomach.

"Want to taste me so badly, Miss?" Nadine sunk her teeth into Aela's neck, feeling her tendons flex against her mouth. Aela shifted atop her, thigh sliding between Nadine’s own.

"No, sweet lamb," she said, her voice a low growl. "I want to devour you."

Her hands cupped Nadine's breasts, squeezing before scraping the underside with her nail. Nadine keened as she sought out Aela's nipple with her teeth, teasing and tugging at the reddened nub until she heard the huntress release her own sounds of agonised pleasure. The two ground against each other, rolling their hips, but no matter how Nadine struggled, Aela kept her pinned in place, scoring her skin and biting into her supple flesh.

Nadine knew she shouldn't. There would be consequences. Aela was a Nord, and a Companion to boot. She didn't care. She had to level the score, and if it was a firesprite Aela wanted, well, it was a firesprite she was going to fucking get. Her hands traced across Aela's breasts as the flames formed, just hot enough to inflict a pleasing heat. She grinned as she watched Aela's face change from confusion to fury to sheer lust, rutting against Nadine's thigh with increased fervour as the flames licked at her flesh.

"Bad, bad girl," Aela panted, her own release imminent. A few more thrusts and she was there, her own pleasure and Nadine's magicka consuming her as her body stuttered, her cries reverberating around the Sanctum chamber. Nadine let the flames subside, running her hands down Aela's sides as she felt her drift back down to Nirn.

Aela’s panting grew gentler as she recovered, her eyes tracing across Nadine’s face. Her expression was unreadable. Eventually Aela moved, planting slow, gentle kisses down her body. Nadine twitched, surprised. Am I being punished? They stopped at Nadine's mound, Aela stroking her bare flesh with loving care.

"I wasn't joking when I said I wanted to devour you," she said, eyes darkening. Her teeth sunk into Nadine’s thigh, leaving a deep bruise in their wake. Nadine whimpered, desire dripping from her as Aela continued towards her core, her breath warm against the dampness of her arousal. The velvet of Aela’s tongue pressed against her, lapping up her slick, teeth nibbling and nipping at the folds of her cunt.

“Fuck! M-Miss - please…” Nadine cried, and Aela responded by tracing the length of Nadine’s cunt before settling on her clit, sucking gently on the tender pearl. Nadine’s whole body sang. Jolts of electricity shot through her, and for a moment she was concerned they might make their escape through her hands, her control over her magickal abilities eroded by Aela’s actions.

Aela’s fingers dug into Nadine’s thighs as she continued laving at her cunt, each lick punctuated by sharp sucks and bites. Nadine went to slide her hands into Aela’s hair, but she was stopped, hands pinned to her stomach before she could do so. There was nothing she could do but writhe in Aela’s grip, desperate and starving and completely helpless.

Aela kept her hovering on the precipice of orgasm, never quite giving her enough, or exactly what she wanted. Each build up lingered, gnawing and maddening, pleasure piled atop pleasure. When she finally did break, she would break hard, and as she drew closer, lust began to mingle with fear. Aela’s tongue licked upwards, languid, focusing on Nadine’s clit, and with without warning, Nadine’s orgasm crashed down on her. For a moment there was nothing but stars, Nadine feeling like the Sanctum ceiling had disappeared around her, the skies of Skyrim and the Northern Lights devouring her whole as Aela had.

“Nadine.” The voice was far away, muffled and near-incomprehensible. “Nadine. You still with me?”

Nadine’s eyes slowly opened, the light assaulting them. Her vision blurred, sea-mist swimming around the edges as she adjusted. Slowly, the shape of Aela began to form above her: kind grey eyes, tangled copper hair, rose-red lips and cheeks glistening with Nadine’s own pleasure.

“Yes, Miss.” Her own voice sounded so small, so very distant. In other moments this might have scared her, but as she felt Aela settle next to her, wrapping her arms around her and stroking her cheek, she allowed herself to float in the aether.

“I’m helping you up,” Aela stated - a command, but a gentle one. “And we’re going to go settle somewhere warm and soft.”

Nadine complied, letting herself be led to a different room at the back of the Sanctum. She collapsed onto the bed, sighing as she revelled in the plush furs and linens beneath her.  Aela returned shortly thereafter, a plate of food and bottle of Honningbrew in tow. “If you can manage, you should eat a little,” she said, setting the items down on the table next to Nadine. “Or at least drink. Replenish your reserves.”

Nadine smiled, sitting up as much as she could manage to consume the offerings. “Am I getting the Jorrvaskr treatment after a valiant effort in combat?”

Aela’s eyebrow raised, a smile creeping across her lips. “Something like that, battlemage.”

Chapter Text

Nadine threw open the Sanctum doors, eager to rid herself of her heavy fur cloak. The scent of roasting meat permeated the chamber, the sound of the fat spitting against the grate of the hearth barely audible under the clink of plates and chatter of people. To Nadine’s surprise, the other servers were already dressed up and laying the table, Ysolda and Ingun wearing the same obscenely scant dress she had a few weeks before and Gwilin wearing the tiniest loincloth she had ever seen. She bit her lip, trying to stifle a giggle at how very naughty he looked.

“Evening, Nadine,” called a warm voice from behind her. “Your journey here was a pleasant one, I trust?”

“Worth it for the destination, as always.” Nadine smiled, turning to face Adrianne. “Have we a visitor this evening, Miss? Everyone’s dressed up.”

“Ah, yes. We wanted to give Gwilin a test run in his new outfit, and it’s no fun without the others, is it?” Adrianne’s eyes twinkled deviously as she leaned close to Nadine. “Plus, you’ll be keeping your clothes on this evening.”

What? Nadine’s shock must have registered, because Adrianne let out a chuckle, continuing.

“You’ve had an intense few weeks in the Sanctum, and we thought you could do with a week of… reflection. Drevis reminded me that you still need to finish translating the book you procured from Ulfberth and I, so I decided you could both spend this evening doing that.”

Nadine gawked at Adrianne. “You can’t be serious.”

“Oh, I’m entirely serious.”

“I had the week before last off, Adrianne. I had plenty of time to reflect when I was rinsing the blood out of my smallclothes. I get this one space every week where I can just shut off and do… this, and now you’re telling me that I have to study instead?”

A flash of ire shot through Adrianne’s eyes, only to be replaced by a softer, more caring expression. “I understand your frustration, but this is still new to you and we don’t want you overwhelmed by it all. Plus, I thought you liked poring over old books and solving their puzzles?”

Nadine grinned. “I do, but this is the one space I’ll choose open legs over open books.”

Adrianne let out an exasperated sigh, but the amused glint in her eye betrayed her. “Divines save me, Nadine Rielle.” She took Nadine’s hand, twining their fingers. “You’ll get a lot out of taking this one week off, trust me. Why don’t we make a little deal? If you can take this week to reflect with Drevis—and not be completely petulant about it—I’ll make sure you’re rewarded fairly. How does that sound?”

Nadine fought hard to keep the pout off of her face. “Sounds great, Miss.”

The plush armchair devoured Nadine, its tall back and round arms cradling her while she waited for Drevis to return. They were in the room she had been in when Giraud had first tutored her—they were doing the same thing this evening, she supposed, just in a very different manner. Drevis probably wouldn’t make her come as she translated the book she stole all those weeks ago. Or oh, maybe he would… the thought made heat pool deep in her stomach as Drevis returned with an earthenware bottle and two matching cups.

“Sujamma,” he explained, setting the cups on the table and unstopping the decanter. “I save it for special occasions.” The way he smiled at Nadine, beaming and genuine, warmed her through, as did the alcohol. “Reminds me of home. Careful not to drink too much—it packs a punch if you’re not used to it.”

Nadine nodded, savouring the sweet burn of the liquor on her tongue.

“So—how much do you know of the Edged Lexicon?” Drevis asked. “I’m curious as to what drew you to partnering up with Brynjolf in the first place.” He smiled wryly. “Well, other than the obvious reasons.”

“Money, for one,” Nadine shrugged. “Although it was the first time I’d ever stolen anything, so that wasn’t the only reason.” She scratched her scalp, thinking. “I’d heard of the book from a couple of more… magically aligned acquaintances I’d met along my travels, who had told me it was a valuable Daedric artifact filled with obscure, arcane knowledge. They never really elaborated on what that knowledge was—honestly, I’m not sure they knew either—but the thought of getting to actually discover and translate this book that few others had ever heard of, let alone seen? That was too enticing an offer to pass up.” Nadine ran her braid through her fingers pensively. “And then when I did get my hands on the book… well.” She blushed, grinning. “You know the rest.”

Drevis held the book, wistfully running his fingers over the worn leather cover. “I do indeed. I was there the night you procured it.” He looked up. “And when you brought it to the Arcanaeum. Would you like to know its real history?”

“Yes please,” Nadine said, sitting forward in her seat.

“Even I don’t know all the details, but I know some. Its origins are debated—some say it was written by a Dunmer priestess, others say it was curated by a collective of scholars and occultists. Both are possible.”

“Wait, I thought this was a Daedric tome. Wasn’t it written by servants of the Daedra?”

“Ah, this brings me to my next point. While the text is Daedric in nature—written in the Daedric alphabet, features details on several known Daedra—it isn’t explicitly Daedric. In fact, it features other divine beings, and is more encyclopedic than it is religious doctrine. You might even call it a guidebook of sorts.” He smiled. “Or, that’s what it seems like to me, anyway. It certainly was during the Sanctum’s beginnings.”

Nadine looked at Drevis, curiosity piqued. “You were part of that?”

“Oh yes, I suppose you haven’t heard all about how our social club came to be, have you?” Drevis uncorked the bottle of sujamma, topping up his and Nadine’s cups. “I’m sure you’ll enjoy this story. It was four or five years back. I’d recently met Nazir, under some… interesting circumstances, and been introduced to Adrianne and Ulfberth through him and Astrid. We all had a… well, let’s call it shared interests. We’d meet at Adrianne’s house, or occasionally secluded taverns, and have our fun. Obviously, the things we did required a degree of discretion—Adrianne and Ulfberth were married, and well known in the community, and these sort of things tend to be frowned upon. Over time, an idea began to come to me.” Drevis smiled, scratching his chin. “You see, I’d had this book for quite a while by that point. It’d been gifted to me from a friend who had long since given up the sort of lifestyle I enjoyed, and had taken all he could from it. So one evening, as I arrived to Adrianne’s home, I brought along the tome, along with a suggestion. Initially, Adrianne laughed it off. After all, it was so farfetched and absurd—who wouldn’t?” He swirled the sujamma in his cup, taking a sip. “But as time wore on, and as we struggled to find places to convene, and as a friend with contacts in the Thieves’ Guild said he might know a venue that would be perfect—eventually the idea became reality. And that, my dear girl, is how the Sanctum came to be.”

Nadine smiled. “Gods, there’s so much history wrapped up in this place. In this tome, even.”

“There is. And you’re now a part of it.” Drevis placed the book on the table, next to the scattered pages of Daedric to Tamrielic alphabet and bottles of ink. “I’ll give you some time to go over this, and grab us both a bite to eat. Have fun.”

The door closed behind him, but Nadine barely heard it. She was too busy gazing at the intricate illustrations of otherworldly beings and fervently scribbling the text that accompanied them. Before long, the change from Daedric to Tamrielic became second nature to her, recognising the runes as if they were a script she’d always read. Words formed on parchment, which became sentences, which became full paragraphs and pages telling of various deities. There was Molag Bal, Daedric Lord of Domination and Enslavement, King of Rape, horned and twisted and grotesque. He had been married to Vivec, Warrior Poet and God-King of the Dunmer, depicted as a being of halves—half-gold, half grey-blue; half Chimer, half Dunmer; half male, half female. The anticipation of Vivec was Mephala, the Daedric Prince of Sex and Murder; her depiction as something half-humanoid, half-spider showing why she was also known as Webspinner.

Nadine recognised the next Daedra before she even began to translate, his roguish face smirking from the page as he clutched a bottle of ale casually in hand. Sanguine, the Daedric Prince of Debauchery, famous for luring his followers into a life of depravity and reckless hedonism. She recognised the awe-strikingly gorgeous Goddess on the following page, too—Dibella’s image was so well-known that even when depictions of her varied slightly, what she represented never did. Beauty, desire, sexuality. By the time she’d finished transcribing Nadine was so mired in the subject matter that she didn’t notice the cramp in her hand or the plate of fruit and cheese perched next to her.

“All done, I think,” Nadine said, massaging the heel of her hand. “Oh! Food. Thanks, Drevis.”

He smiled back at her from his armchair opposite. “Not a problem. Did you get a chance to properly read everything?”

“I think so,” Nadine mumbled through a faceful of bread and cheese. “I sort of read as I transcribed. Learned a lot.”

“Wonderful. And do you know why you were tasked with this particular activity this evening?”

Because you’re all sadists? Nadine bit back the answer that her mind helpfully supplied. “I’m not entirely sure. Bad behaviour last week with Aela, perhaps?”

Drevis chuckled softly. “Was it really such a punishment, Nadine?”

“Not really.” Nadine took another large bite of apple and Eidar on crusty buttered bread. As she chewed, her stomach growling in appreciation, she realised just how much she’d enjoyed the task. It certainly hadn’t been what she’d envisioned doing when she’d entered the Sanctum this evening, but she wasn’t nearly as upset about it as she’d expected to be. “Gods, hadn’t realised how hungry I was.”

“I think that answers my question,” Drevis remarked, grinning. “No, you weren’t given this as penance for bad behaviour. You were given this for a few reasons. First, an opportunity to learn more about the new world you’ve entered into. Second, a chance to let everything you’ve been doing sink in. It’s been an intense few weeks for you, and we thought translating this book might be a good grounding exercise, as well as giving you valuable knowledge.”

Drevis wasn’t wrong. Nadine had thrown herself headfirst into things, and in her usual fashion hadn’t really allowed herself much time to stop and breathe. A thousand questions rattled around in her head; some fully formed, some just beginning to come to fruition. She was at a loss for what to ask first.

“You see, having this time to figure things out is important. In all honesty, perhaps we should have given you this time beforehand. That said, all went well and sometimes… well, it’s often difficult to see quite where you’re going wrong sometimes until you’re in that position.” Drevis got comfortable in his seat. “We want to do all we can to make sure you enjoy yourself, and challenge you, but not push you too far. That’s why we do our best to set boundaries, and put in place things like safewords. People are complex, and some things are outside of our control. But the one thing we can control is consent.” He leaned in, blood-red eyes staring right at Nadine. “Consent is a powerful thing. Sometimes we only realise how powerful when it’s taken from us.”

Nadine didn’t miss the strain in Drevis’ voice, the subtle change in expression. She shifted in her seat, grasping for some small bundle of words to give solace. “I—I’m so sorry, Drevis.”

He waved her concern away with a shrug and feigned brightness. “You don’t live to the age I do, and live the life I live, without having some decidedly unpleasant experiences. Please, don’t worry about me, though—it’s in the past, and it’s why it’s so important that we have this talk.” Drevis’ hand closed around his pendant, running his thumb over the insignia engraved in the centre. “Within the Sanctum, consent is paramount. It is respected, unquestioningly and unconditionally. Nothing we do could exist without it. Your pendant, obviously, is akin to your collar—a symbol of your submission—but it’s also a symbol of protection, of trust.”

The pendant. “Shit.” Nadine reached for the identical silver chain around her own neck. “My pendant. When I was in Rorikstead… someone recognised it.” If Drevis was surprised, his face didn’t show it. Her grip tightened. “A Dunmer woman, with a group of bandits. She knew what it was. Said I was ‘taken’.”

Drevis hummed thoughtfully. “Perhaps not. Could have just thought it was a lover’s locket. On the other hand, she could also be familiar with the tome. I’m assuming you noticed the markings on several of the pages?”

Nadine had—swirling, curled insignias identical to the one she wore around her neck. She nodded.

“No way of knowing then, really. Could be one of us. Never been one of the Sanctum, though.” Drevis raised a brow. “We’re not unique in what we do. I wouldn’t be surprised if places like ours existed all across Skyrim. I know they did in Morrowind. And if she does know what the symbol means, it’s likely she’s involved in the same things we are elsewhere, so she’s definitely not going to be talking about your sexual proclivities with the tavern’s patrons.”

That was a valid point. Nadine nearly breathed a sigh of relief, until she remembered another detail. Her face turned scarlet. “I… I had a dream that night, too. Oh Gods, I can’t believe I’m about to tell you about this, but—” She looked down. “It… it involved me, being taken against my will. That’s never something I would want, but in my dream… I don’t know. It was so vivid, and I was so turned on by it, and it hasn’t stopped running around in my head—”

To Nadine’s surprise, Drevis reached out and took her hand. “Ah, now this is an interesting concept, and one you’re not alone with. It’s fascinating what our minds can come up with when asleep, isn’t it?” Nadine looked up at Drevis, her eyes scanning his face for any sign of disgust and finding none. He squeezed her fingers. “Oftentimes, our mind is just spitting out pictures spliced together, and they don’t really mean anything. Other times, they can help us figure out something we didn’t even know we were struggling with. Your dream could be either one. Haven’t you often wondered exactly why you like the things you like, when they should be so very antonymous with pleasure?”

“Often. But… I think that’s part of the draw.” Nadine worried at her robes, mulling it over. “That strange contrast of pleasure and pain, of soft and hard.”

“Exactly. So much of what we like, and do, often is because it coexists and contrasts. Things that should be restrictive end up freeing us, and things that we’d otherwise find harsh or degrading we can find pleasure in.” He smiled. “I doubt if someone called you a slut on the street you’d be so kind.”

“The intent is different,” she agreed. “The core of it is there, but… it isn’t the same. I’ve been spending weeks puzzling over this. Wondering why I like the things I like. Feeling confused, ashamed—”

“Shame is a powerful tool. It motivates us, along with fear and guilt.” Drevis scratched his beard, stretching out in his chair. “Not always in the correct ways, but they’re powerful forces. As are things that are dark and forbidden and taboo, because usually they feed and tie into the things I’ve just mentioned.” He drained his cup, pausing to refill from the decanter of sujamma. “All of us harbour some strange desires. The difference is what we do with it. Your dream, for example. Did you know you’re not the first in the Sanctum to have those particular thoughts? Not even the first in this room, in fact.”

Nadine didn’t. The idea of someone going through the things that Drevis had and still finding pleasure from them made her head spin.

“You can be repelled by the reality of something, yet still find details appealing in fantasy. You can even act them out. In fact, permit me to tell you something personal?”

“Of course.”

“One of my favourite scenarios in the Sanctum is where I’m being taken against my will. Which might seem counterintuitive, but the big difference is what we do have—and are doing—is consensual. It’s the same with other situations. We can play about with things that are wrong and morally reprehensible, but in a controlled, consensual arena.”

The confusion on Nadine’s face must have been writ large, because Drevis elaborated. “Think of what we do as a play. There are scenes, acts, parts. As soon as one of us calls time, says the word, the curtain draws and the scene ends. We all go back to being who we were. Those who play the role of the murderer are not necessarily that when the curtain closes.”

“What about those that are?”

Drevis grinned. “Tend to make terrific, if terrifying lovers. Why do you think we keep Astrid and Nazir around?”

“Speaking of which, Drevis—” Nadine pointed to the page. “Am I misinterpreting, or does spear refer to what I think it does here?”

Drevis chuckled. “Yes, probably. There are many ways to interpret the 36 Lessons, but given that Vivec was no stranger to sex and violence, I’d say the most obvious answer is likely the correct one.” He gave Nadine a knowing smile. “On that note, ask me to dig out Muatra later on.”

“Is that what I think it is?”

“Depends,” Drevis said slyly. “But yes, it’s exactly what you think it is.”

One line on the parchment had jumped out at Nadine, snaking itself into her head and refusing to leave. “Reach heaven by violence. I know that likely has some deeper philosophical meaning, but I feel like it describes what we do here so well.”

“Couldn’t agree more. It’s one of my favourite of Vivec’s teachings.” Drevis took a long sip of sujamma. “I feel like you’d perhaps enjoy the 36 Lessons. They’re mired in abstract imagery and allegory, so they’re not for everyone. If you can get past all that, I think you’d gain a lot.”

Nadine nodded. “So he—they—were both male and female?”

“In a way, yes, but really his goal was transcendence. He embodied all genders, and in some ways transcended the idea of gender itself.”

Nadine’s brow furrowed. “I’m not sure I fully understand.”

“He recognised that gender came in more forms than just male and female as we typically recognise them. He isn’t the only living thing to have ever been both—many men, women and mer have walked Nirn possessing both sets of sexual organs. Not every race is the same, either. Argonians call upon Hist magicka to change their sexual organs to reflect their gender.” Drevis continued. “Some people’s gender can be variant to their bodies—or at least the way the world sees them. To put it bluntly, there are men with cunts and women with cocks, and people who have one or the other but exist as neither man nor woman. Or both. Vivec encompasses them all, really.”

This was genuinely a thing Nadine had never considered, and she thought herself rather naive for never having thought of the idea. Still, Drevis had many years on her. She was still learning. For all the books she’d read and cities she’d travelled through and people she’d met, she was still young in the grand scheme of things. It wasn’t until she was sat in front of a mer whose age she could only guess, but definitely fell into the category of Much Older Than Her that she felt so very young, like she was a teenager again, bright-eyed and tender-hearted, picking petals from wildflowers as girls whispered in hushed tones how they’d heard a girl talking about touching herself “down there”. Other memories surfaced: giggling along with her friends at bawdy words in forbidden books, and feeling the strange, twisting pang of guilt mix with the flushing of her skin. Watching women in town sneer and tut at the bruise that had bloomed on the young baker’s neck, and attempting to teach herself basic Illusion magicka to hide a similar one that formed after a passionate evening with a boy she’d met in the tavern. Endless, awkward fumbling. Attempts at romance. Murmurs of “I love you” that felt hollow, empty, wrong; that rang in her ears every time their bodies joined and she was left wanting and unfulfilled and so, so confused. She’d had endless books growing up a clever yet disillusioned teenager in High Rock, but she didn’t have this one. Perhaps if she did, she could’ve avoided years of needless shame.

This book told her of Dibella, and what the author felt she represented. Not what the townsfolk had all thought she’d represented—either a pinnacle of purity and beauty, devoid of all faults, or the one odd Divine, her name spoken in curled, sour tones, as if her very presence was an affront to the others.

Dibella represented celebrating beauty and sexuality, not for others but for yourself.

Dibella represented sexual freedom, agency and autonomy.

Dibella represented everything Nadine had been taught to be ashamed of—the Slut, the Masturbator, the Indecent Woman—and spat in its face.

Dibella represented the reclamation of sexuality, and the rejection of double standards.

“This part, here,” Nadine said definitively, pointing at the page. “This is why I like being called a slut. It’s a reclamation. I felt ashamed of my sexuality for so many years, but why the fuck should I? Dibella isn’t. You aren’t. Nobody in the Sanctum is.” She smiled. “Every time anyone here calls me it, some of its original venom is taken out.”

Drevis nodded. “It’s about taking something that’s been used to harm you and giving it a different context. And, sometimes, using parts of that initial context to fuel you.” He ran his fingers through his silver hair. “The mind is a tricky thing. Our experiences, our desires—they’re not as rare as you might think. Some people just keep it better hidden than others, or never really come to terms with that side of themselves. For years, I tried to run from who I was, from the aspects of myself I felt were wrong or broken. Nearly settled down with someone who didn’t really know me.”

“What happened?”

“I had an epiphany, when I met someone who saw in me what I was too afraid to present to others. In the short space of time we spent together, I realised I could spend my life being deeply unhappy, or I could pursue what I really wanted. In the end I chose pleasure.”

“Sanguine would approve.”

Drevis laughed. “He would. It was freeing. Liberating. Realising I could chase these things. Perhaps a little too great, since I threw myself in head first. It’s addictive, especially when you realise exactly what you’ve been missing out on. I wanted to experience every single thing I could, and charged in without any regard for my own safety or wellbeing. That took a toll.” Drevis set down his cup, a troubled look crossing his face as he weighed his next words. “What we have that Sanguine and his followers lack is limits, self control. In some ways, Sanguine embodies all we do in the Sanctum—pleasure, hedonism, self-exploration. In others, he embodies exactly what we seek to avoid—pleasure at the expense of all else, and everyone else. At his worst, he’s not a million miles away from Molag Bal.”

That was something Nadine had never really considered until now. Her impulsiveness was ultimately what had led her into this situation, and she was lucky that the people within the Sanctum genuinely had her best interests at heart. Drevis was right. It was addictive, and if things had been different, she wasn’t entirely sure she’d be able to walk away.

“It’s why Adrianne had us have this talk. You’ve went from knowing none of this world to being thrown into the deep end in a matter of weeks, and you’re likely still swept up in the euphoria of it all. You might not have had a chance to really think about things, and in intense situations, this can hit you hard.” Nadine said nothing and toyed with her braid, hating how effectively Drevis had just cut to the quick of her. He smiled sympathetically. “We care about you as a person, Nadine, and that includes who you are outside these walls. That version of yourself, the one who seeks a different kind of adventure, who wants to help as many people as she can—has she had time to take this all in? What would happen if something went wrong one week?”

“I… I would seek you out. Or Adrianne, or—”

“We’re always here for you, you know that, but feelings and thoughts aren’t always as straightforward as we would like them to be. Sometimes, left to our own devices, we can start feeling alone and misunderstood, and unable to reach out.”

All fair points, Nadine had to concede. She rolled her cup in her hand, swirling the sujamma around the vessel before taking another sip. A break was good, would benefit her. Time to think, to weigh up everything she had learned. Then again, she often learned best by doing, and Drevis laughed when she told him so, hearty and carefree.

“That much is obvious, dear girl. I’d imagine that’s why you were introduced to the Sanctum the way you were. Still, that doesn’t mean you don’t still need time to think about what you’ve learned, though.” He stood, brushing down his robes. “Take this weekend. Talk with us all. Explore your own wants and desires. You’re a creative girl—I’m sure you’ve got plenty of ideas. Feel free to write them down, if you like. You never know when they might get put into practice.”

A smile crossed Nadine’s face as she realised the applications this could have. And oh, did she have ideas. Drevis chuckled.

“I’m taking it you’re fond of this suggestion, then?”

Nadine arched an eyebrow cheekily. “I’ve certainly heard worse.”

Over the rest of the weekend, Nadine milled about the Sanctum, talking to whoever would humour her about when and how they learned what they liked and disclosing some of her innermost thoughts in return. When the arena was quiet and not in use, she padded down and explored every last piece of equipment, letting ideas form in her head and scribbling them down feverishly, candles burning down to nothing while she sank her teeth into her new project. By Morndas, the Sanctum was mostly empty, but her mind raced.

“Enjoying your new assignment?” Adrianne looked up at her, something like a grin playing across her lips. “Told you taking a week off wouldn’t kill you.”

“Yes, but this one might,” Nadine replied. “Got all these new ideas and no way to act them out. Sadist.”

Adrianne chuckled. “And that’s exactly why you like me. Speaking of which… I’ll take those notes you’ve been working on.” At Nadine’s look of surprise, she raised an eyebrow. “Well, they aren’t much use if you keep hold of them, are they?”

That was true. Nadine handed over the pile of papers, blushing as she thought of Adrianne and the others poring over them.

“If you get any ideas between now and next week, feel free to write them down.” Adrianne’s eyes glinted, even as her face feigned innocence. “And how is your training going?”

Fucking torturous. “I’m getting there.” Every time I touch myself I need to use my clothing as a gag to stop from crying out in anguished pleasure. “It’s still challenging. Especially the longer I do it.” By the third orgasm I’ve denied myself I’m usually shaking and weeping and begging to the Divines through cloth and saliva to give me release. “I’m getting much better with the cucumber.” Each time I put it in my mouth it makes me throb with need. I’m fairly sure eating a cucumber sandwich the other day made me wet by sheer association. “You definitely know how to put your subordinates through their paces.” You’re all sadistic fucking bastards and I am absolutely at the mercy of every single last one of you.

“Well, this week should be a fun one,” Adrianne said brightly. “Do try to be on your best behaviour. What happens next week will very much depend on it. Oh, and Nadine?”

“Yes?”

“Thought it might be fun to introduce another willing participant to our little party. If you know anyone who you think might be interested… please do let me know.”

Chapter Text

The week passed in a blur of falling crimson leaves and salvaged trinkets as Nadine busied herself with everyday life. Helping others served as an ideal outlet for her simmering frustrations, and she took whichever opportunities she could—retrieving a lost amulet, delivering a letter or a knapsack to friends and family members. The miller in Eastmarch joked that she could make a name for herself as the most helpful woman in Skyrim. Nadine smiled and chuckled back, thinking to herself that at least it sounded catchier than the horniest woman in Skyrim.

She began to see possibility in every area around her. Where others would see something plain and ordinary in the environment, she saw something with much more deviant applications, and innocent conversations she overheard gave her less-than-innocent ideas. She filed them away in her mind for later, to scribble down in her journal when she was alone. That week, her path had taken her to Windhelm, its towering stone walls and cobbled streets leading her to its bustling marketplace. When she entered the White Phial, she could hear the apprentice cursing to himself as he handled a green, nasty-looking plant.

“Stinging nettles,” he responded, when Nadine voiced her concern. “The needles end up delivering a nasty jab if you don’t handle them properly.”

The shopkeeper grumbled something unsympathetic in return, but Nadine was too busy making a mental note to notice. She did the same thing later on in the Cornerclub, when she overheard a conversation about Fear magicka at the next table. 

That night in her room at the Candlehearth Hall, her quill moved fervently across the page in an effort to get her thoughts out as fast as she could. Ideas took shape, turning from seeds of things to fully formed concepts, and by the time Nadine was done her hand ached and her mind raced and her cunt throbbed. Figuring that now was as good a time as any to continue her training, Nadine fetched her tools from her bag and laid them out in front of her, humming contentedly as she lifted her skirt and shimmied her way out of her smallclothes. She could hear the bustle of the tavern from behind the door—a busy evening, but she would still need to be quiet. Perhaps she should have muffled the door.

Eagerly, she got to work, oiling up the steel plug and guiding it in with relative ease. She remembered when the moonstone plug had felt like a challenge. A blush crept across her skin as she revelled in the feeling, realising just how accustomed she had got to this. Perhaps something bigger soon…? Her thoughts turned to the Sanctum as her hands wandered across her body, feeling heat blooming and the peak of her nipple stiffening underneath the thin fabric of her dress. She bit her lip, stifling a moan as her fingers traced across her slick cunt, each brush torturous, taking her further away from herself. Her hands no longer felt like her own. In her head, she imagined someone else doing the touching, punctuating each caress with cool commands.

That’s it, touch yourself for me. Nadine complied, needing to obey the faceless voice in her head. Just like that. Each caress was like fire, and she whimpered, biting her lip to keep her composure. Didn’t even muffle the door, did you? I think you want people to hear. Heat pooled fast in her stomach, threatening to spill over if she let it. Her hips slowed their rocking, fingers slowing their advances. Half of her panted with relief while the other half whined in audible frustration.

Such a petulant thing, the voice in her mind offered, smirking and sinister. Look at you, already so desperate to come. Aren’t you?

The slick-soaked fingers that traced along her clit and the reaction it spurred told her that yes, she was incredibly fucking desperate. Gods, she would do anything for release right now, and that was the cruelty of it all, wasn’t it? After all, how could you bargain with someone who didn’t exist? The only barrier to her pleasure at this exact moment was herself, but that was perhaps most damning—Nadine had never been one for impulse control.

Well then, naughty thing, her mind said in barbed tones, give yourself what you want. Now.

Nadine couldn’t refuse. Breathless and urgent, she rutted against her hand as her orgasm consumed her, throbbing and wet and glorious. Laughter bubbled up from within as the feeling of release cocooned her, soothing every last ache and worry in her bones and sending a warm glow through her body. As she cleaned herself up and readied herself for bed, she floated. It wasn’t until the next morning that the reality of what she’d done set in. What happens next week will very much depend on your behaviour, Adrianne had warned. Still, it had only been one small lapse in judgement. That couldn’t be too bad, could it?

Nadine wasn’t sure what made her give in again the following evening. Lust, impulse, greed—it could have been any number of things. Only one thing was certain—if once was a mistake, twice was very much deliberate. It was with this knowledge that she walked into the Sanctum on Fredas, nerves twisting in her gut like serpents; knowledge that would plague her as she bathed and served and awaited the rest of her evening.

She stood in front of Adrianne, watching her flick through the pages of her journal, avidly reading each one. Watched her call Drevis over, whisper something in his ear. Watched him nod in return, his red eyes glimmering with interest.

Adrianne looked up, her expression unreadable. “How was your week?” She closed over the journal, smiling. “I trust it gave you a chance to… mull things over.”

“Yes, Miss,” Nadine said, struggling to look Adrianne in the eye.

“Perhaps you were too preoccupied, hmm?” Adrianne’s expression darkened, just slightly. “Was it all too much, sweet thing?”

Nadine felt her skin burn, both with shame and indignance. She really had no good response to this question, but she still felt her hackles rise at the feigned softness, as if she were some frail, incapable thing. “It was fine.”

“Then perhaps you’d like to explain why you disobeyed?” All gentleness was gone now. Adrianne’s eyes bored into Nadine’s, unamused, one eyebrow raised. Nadine squirmed.

“I—I don’t know, Miss.”

“I think you do, pet.” The ice that laced Adrianne’s voice rivalled even Vex. “Now tell me.”

“Because—” The realisation hit Nadine, a thousand thoughts rushing to her all at once. “Because I wanted to be punished.”

Adrianne smiled coldly. “Well, in that case… I suppose we should give you what you want.”

The setting was so very familiar, yet startlingly different in this week’s context. Nadine could still see last week’s notes on The Edged Lexicon sprawled across the desk of the chamber, but this time she was naked and collared, and the expression on her mentor’s face was no longer one of subdued academic interest.  

“On the bed, on your hands and knees.” Drevis’ voice was even, but it exacted control, and Nadine dared not disobey. The mattress dipped underneath as she climbed up the bed on all fours, awaiting whatever punishment was to come. There was a rustle in the background, followed by the clink of something dull and metallic. Shivers of anticipation crept across her skin. The soft sound of boots against stone gradually got louder as Drevis approached.

“Seems our little conversation last week made an impact.” Soft, warm fingers ghosted across Nadine’s waist, back, hips. “Perhaps too much of one. You understand that your break from sexual activity in the Sanctum doesn’t preclude you from your regular training, yes?”

Nadine swallowed. “Yes, Sir.”

“Since you’re so invested in Dunmer culture, I don’t think ‘Sir’ is quite the right title for me.” Drevis’ fingers moved between Nadine’s thighs, eliciting a shudder. They moved further upward, lingering over the spot of wetness that had collected. “Do you know what the correct term of respect for a Dunmer is, dear girl?”

“Serjo,” Nadine uttered, voice catching.

Her correct answer was greeted by the cold metal of the plug pressing against her arse. “Very good. That’s what you’re to call me from now on.” Slowly, it inched inside her, hard and slick. “Is that understood?”

“Y-yes, Serjo.” Nadine bit back a moan as her body accepted the remainder of the plug, its base nestling comfortably against her.

“Good. Turn around.”

Nadine complied, feeling the plug move inside her as she did so. When she looked up, vision partially obscured by strands of damp black hair, Drevis’ blood-red eyes stared back, stolidly assessing her.

“I think perhaps we need to get to the root of the problem. See exactly where it is you’re losing composure.” He handed her something long and thick, exquisitely carved from glass and moonstone. Oil glistened, dripping down its surface. “Why don’t you give me a demonstration?”

A furious flush crept across Nadine’s skin. She gripped the phallus, careful not to let it fall from her grasp. Usually in these situations, she was the recipient of whichever lewd actions were on the menu that evening. There was something different—something daunting—about being the doer, and having a more active role in the proceedings made every inch of her body shiver in nervous anticipation, made every brush and touch send jolts of excitement straight to her core. Every sense seemed to be increased tenfold, each small rustle of fabric and stuttered breath incalculably loud in the chamber they shared.

Holding the phallus upright, Nadine slowly lowered herself onto it, biting her lip as she felt the glass appendage fill her. A soft noise of approval came from Drevis, and she looked up, seeing the curve of his grin, the hardness of his own erection underneath his robes. A surge of something heady and powerful rushed through her, urging her to lean into the feeling of being watched, of exposure. As she rode the cock with fervour, her free hand gliding over her clit, she realised exactly what the urge was. Performance. She wanted to put on a show for her audience of one, give him something he’d have trouble forgetting. She wanted to see him lose composure as she lost her own, detached yet connected through her own act of pleasure.

Each ridge of the glass phallus rippled against her cunt as she ground down on it, pushing against the plug filling her arse, the sensations near-overwhelming. A soft, lustful sound escaped her, somewhere between a sigh and a purr, and she heard Drevis’ breath catch, his own resolve weakening. She could see a small, damp spot beginning to form on his own robes where precum leaked from his cock, and she knew that at that moment he’d be desperate to touch, to chase his own release—

“Stop.” The command came out rough and ragged. Nadine’s own breaths were equally quick, coming out in laboured little pants as she attempted to heed Drevis’ instruction. “I think I can see where you’re going wrong, and I know exactly how to fix it.”

The way Drevis’ voice strained made Nadine’s cunt throb. Still, she complied with his order, dismounting from the slick cock and trembling as its absence left her bereft.

“Did you enjoy Muatra? It certainly looked like you did.”

She bit her lip. “Yes, Serjo.”

“Quite the voracious appetite for knowledge and culture, haven’t you, yi viya?” Drevis smirked. “Not to mention other things. Lie back for me, Nadine. I’d like to teach you a few more lessons.”

Drevis strolled towards her, wrapping a silk scarf around her eyes, obscuring her vision. “We touched on the House of Troubles last week. Consider this both your punishment and an introduction to the fundamentals” A hand grazed her stomach, resting there gently. “I’m going to push you this week, Nadine, but remember if you feel uncomfortable you can stop at any time. Tell me, what would you say to make me stop?”

“Nightshade, Serjo,” Nadine responded. “Nirnroot if I—if I needed you to slow down or ease up.”

“Excellent.” His fingers moved, tracing lazy circles across her skin. “I’m going to use magicka on you. It will feel scary, but I promise you’re not in any danger. That said, if you feel anything is untoward—or for any other reason you need to—your safeword is there. Please don’t be afraid to use it.”

“Okay,” Nadine said, impatient. “I promise.” Something cool and ticklish washed over her, and she flexed her fingers as it ran from her neck to her toes. Her movements slowed, until eventually they ceased altogether. She tried to lift an arm, a leg. Nothing. Panic spiked through her, and she struggled to keep her breaths even. “Drevis, what’s happening?” Her head lifted from the pillow, arms unmoving at her sides even as she desperately tried to claw off her blindfold. “I can’t move, fuck, I—”

“It’s an immobilisation spell,” Drevis explained, voice low and soft, hand stroking hers. “If you want me to remove it, I can. The blindfold, too. Just say the word.”

Knowing what exactly it was helped Nadine steady her breaths and level her thudding heartbeat. The mattress was comfortable yet unyielding underneath her, and she allowed herself to sink into the feeling of motionlessness, all other senses heightened in the absence of sight and movement.

“No, Serjo,” she whispered, her own voice loud in her ears. “I’m fine. Keep going.”

Drevis’ fingers ran along her arm, then up to her shoulder and neck, brushing along her collarbone and sternum. Every movement was gentle, careful, allowing her to adjust to the feeling. A nail lightly scraped along the underside of her breast, and she let out a low moan as she writhed inside herself but remained still. She could feel it trace further, continuing its path down her body, alternating between soft, slight caresses and slow, laborious scratches. The feeling was somewhere between gorgeous and torturous, all of it; his hands, the goosebumps rising on her skin, every throb of her cunt as it dripped, demanding attention, demanding more.

“Please.”

He paused, lingering over her thigh. “Hmm?”

“Please, Serjo.” The desperation in her voice rang out in the silence, skin burning with the depth of her need. “Please, I need you to—”

Nails scratched along her sides. “So… very… impatient.” He punctuated each word with a kiss down her belly. “Need to do something about that.”

If she’d had the ability to move, Nadine’s whole body would have jolted at the warmth and wetness of Drevis’ tongue exploring her cunt. As it was, she tried in vain to grind against the contact, the loss of control utterly maddening.

“Et rudir, yi nilyn,” he murmured, his breath blooming hot against her. “En et com.”

Drevis’ attentions continued, each suck of her clit making her whimper and groan. Fingers brushed against her slick cunt, coaxing their way inside. It didn’t take long for him to build her up to the precipice of release, building like a fire down in the depths of her belly. Then, just as soon as it had built, the feeling subsided as his ministrations stopped, and something between a whine and a growl came from Nadine, her frustration painfully evident. She felt him chuckle against her, the vibrations running down into her bones.

“Badirif.” Drevis’ other hand roamed lazily across her body as his fingers remained firmly in her cunt. “Er bahr hij.” His fingers grazed over her nipple, then pinched, sending a spike of pain through her. Nadine cried out, raw and sharp and guttural.

“Too much?”

Nadine shook her head, relishing the only small movement she could make, and her words came out quick and clumsy. “No, Serjo, please, more—”

“Shog'neif.” Drevis pulled harder this time, twisting and tugging at the sensitive flesh as his other hand slowly stroked, pain blurring into pleasure. It was all so much, and Nadine’s head swam with the intensity of it—the sharp bite of fingers like a vice against her nipple, the deep, dreamlike pleasure threatening to spill over and take her breath away.

Before it could, Drevis let go, his fingers slowing to a stop and withdrawing. Nadine panted, close to tears. Pain still coursed through her as blood rushed back to her abused flesh. She listened, only hearing her own breaths and heartbeat pounding in her ears. Waiting.

She wasn’t sure what was worse—the suspense, or the ice-cold hand that ran across her side. Her breath caught in her throat, strangling the wail that tore from her. The scent of her own sex wafted in her nostrils as Drevis raised his cunt-soaked fingers to her lips, humming with satisfaction as she opened to accept them.

“Juli,” he purred, allowing her to suck his fingers clean. The salty, metallic taste of her wetness lingered on her tongue as the pads of Drevis’ fingers stroked against it, fucking her mouth. Slowly and languidly they withdrew, leaving a trail of saliva on Nadine’s chin in their wake, making their way down to her still-smarting nipple. Their approach was gentler this time, tracing soft, slick circles across the stiff flesh, in stark contrast to the chilled hand currently running its way underneath her other breast. It didn’t take long for those fingers to seek out her opposing nipple, the cold enough to take her breath away.

It was almost too much. Her tongue wrapped around her safeword, its presence lingering on the tip along with the taste of her own arousal. Before the urge got too great, Drevis’ fingers left, quickly being replaced by his mouth pressing hot and wet against her nipple. His tongue traced and teased, teeth nibbling at the flesh. The heat burned through Nadine like a brand, the opposing sensations near-overwhelming. Nirnroot , her mind whispered, urging her to say it. Almost as if he’d heard her, his mouth and fingers left her, allowing her a moment to collect herself.

“Still holding up, Nadine?”

The mattress dipped as Drevis moved, and Nadine nodded, blinking behind the blindfold. “I think so, Serjo.”

“Good.” The brittle sound of frost magicka came from beside her, a slight chill emanating from its source. “Because we’re nowhere near done.” The source moved, its coldness ghosting across her body as it moved lower, eventually situating itself between her thighs.

Nadine cried out as the object pressed against her cunt. It felt like an icicle, its frozen hardness in stark contrast to the furious heat that had built between her legs. She would’ve believed it was an icicle, except that it didn’t seem to melt, and as it slid in, the bumped texture of it seemed startlingly familiar. A moan slipped from her lips as the cold phallus slowly slid in and out, each inch of it agonisingly delicious.

“Fuck, Serjo,” she whined. “This is torturous.”

The icy cock pushed in further. “Fershadal? ” Drevis said, his tone noticeably more sinister.  His finger brushed lightly across her clit. “Os harig bahr jabi’ag fershadald ohl.”

Having no knowledge of Dunmeris, Nadine had no idea what he’d said, but the intent was clear by the tone of his voice and the way his attentions intensified. His fingers circled her clit, the cock thrusting in and out in tandem. Wet, sloppy noises echoed in her ears, the sound of her cunt being fucked embarrassingly obscene. Her moans grew louder too, having quickly grown from soft sighs to strained, needy noises and half-words that implored Drevis to please grant her release.

“Ohuhn ur’ish viyad falmerhn, yi viya.” A jolt of magicka shot from his fingers straight through to her clit, making Nadine cry out. “Ur’ish viyad bahr yaglad et aradir.” Another spark of electricity flowed through her body, pain-pleasure twisting her stomach and threatening to push her over the edge. “Bahr telshahr ohn neif ural el.” She waited for a third strike, but to her surprise, nothing came. Instead, the phallus slid almost entirely out of her and thrust back in, steadily and firmly.

“Please.” Nadine’s voice was hoarse and thin and so, so needy. “Please, I can’t take this any more. Gods, Serjo, please—”

The cock thrust deeper into her as electricity assailed her clit, and with those movements she was gone, crying out in anguished ecstasy as every last nerve she had screamed in unison. She thrashed inside herself, feeling her cunt convulse but unable to move any other part of her body; legs still spread, arms laying limply at her sides. Desperately, she tried to clench her thighs together, tried to escape from the sensations that threatened to suffocate her. It was no use. She was bound, trapped, completely at her Master’s mercy.

Drevis slowed his attentions to a stop, removing his fingers from Nadine’s aching clit. She gasped for breath, the aftershocks of her orgasm coursing through her, glad beyond belief for the stimulation to have stopped.

Her relief was short lived. As soon as she’d recovered, Drevis worked her over once more, another orgasm ripping through her body despite herself. The feeling was overwhelming. She’d never experienced pleasure that was so utterly unbearable, and she wasn’t sure if she wanted it to stop or stretch on forever and swallow her whole. Before it threatened to do so, it stopped. And then, moments later, it started, the torturous cycle beginning anew.

She tried begging, pleading, whimpering. Drevis’ attentions continued, making her come undone again and again and again. Her own pleasure echoed in her ears, near deafening. She couldn’t escape it. Not unless she said the word. A spark licked across her clit, tipping her over the edge, her unmoving body in raptures—

“Nirnroot!” Tears spilled from Nadine’s eyes, soaking the blindfold and streaking her cheeks. “P-please, I need it to stop, Drevis, please—” She felt the cock be removed, soothing magicka wash over her, hands holding hers. All movements had ceased, but she couldn’t stop herself from begging, sobbing into the blindfold as her words disintegrated into babbles.

“It’s all right,” he said softly, stroking her hand. “I’m going to remove the immobilisation spell now. Is that all right?”

Nadine nodded, beyond the point of words. Warmth radiated through her body as her mobility returned, and she reached out, aching for comfort and contact. Drevis kissed the crown of her head as he took her in his arms, holding her tight. To her surprise, she could feel fabric against her rather than bare skin.

“Can I take off the blindfold for you?”

She nodded again, allowing Drevis to do so. Her world came back into view, through bleary, tear-smudged light—the carved, dark wood of the bedframe, the candles flickering, the shock of silver hair and beard against the blue-grey of Drevis’ skin. Seeing the concern etched into his kind face made her dissolve back into tears, burying herself in the fabric of his robes.

“You did so well, Nadine,” he whispered, his hand stroking her back. “I’m so proud of you.” His other hand held hers, fingers entwined. “Are you all right?”

Nadine sniffed. “I’m great. Just… overwhelmed.” She revelled in the faint, earthy scent of his skin as she nuzzled into him. “Wasn’t expecting that. Any of it.”

“Was it too much?”

She shook her head emphatically. “No, it was good. It didn’t get too much until the end.” She looked up at Drevis, giving him a crooked, shaky smile. “Which I suppose is the point, and I’m sorry I—”

“Don’t ever apologise for telling me, or anyone else, to stop.” Drevis looked at her, face serious. “You’re allowed to have limits, and to exercise your right to instate those limits.” His hand squeezed hers tight. “Always remember that. Now, I think perhaps we should relax with some tea and honeycomb, hmm?”

“But I haven’t… we haven’t…” Nadine’s nose wrinkled as she wrestled with the words. “I didn’t say Nightshade, Serjo.”

“You didn’t, but what we did was intense, and it took a toll. I don’t think it would be wise to do anything else this evening.”

Nadine frowned. “But I didn’t make you—”

“Your wellbeing is more important than my pleasure,” Drevis said firmly. “Trust me.” His eyebrow raised. “Take tonight to recover. We’ve still got tomorrow if you feel like picking up where you left off, but I must stress that there is absolutely no obligation.”

This felt wrong, somehow. But she knew Drevis wouldn’t budge, and deep down she knew his reasoning was probably right. She could feel herself growing tired already. “Agreed. But I’m making it up tomorrow. Just you wait.”

Drevis chuckled, wrapping the emerald blanket around Nadine. “I will, sera,” he said, placing a kiss on her ear. “I will.”

Chapter Text

Although Nadine’s thoughts were constantly filled with past, present and future goings-on at the Sanctum, reality had a way of putting a hold on things. This time, it was by one thing after another going wrong—a tear in her robes, a chip in her dagger, and a coin purse emptying too rapidly to fix everything. Thankfully, Skyrim seemed to provide more than enough opportunity to earn her keep, bounties and odd jobs around every corner. The more pertinent problem was many of them seemed to require more than one person. They were risky. Too risky for her to go alone.

When she turned up at the Bee and Barb, robes soaked through from the autumn downpour, Marcurio just grinned up at her in that infuriating way of his. He’d been skeptical about taking on the job without payment upfront, but given Nadine’s offer to split the profits fifty-fifty and their history of working together—and his distinct lack of better offers—he’d eventually accepted.

The bandit den they’d infiltrated was dingy and dark and brutal, more difficult to clear than it had any right being. Still, they made it through relatively unscathed, healing each other’s wounds and setting up camp in the cleared-out antechamber at the end of the cave. It wasn’t ideal, but it was sheltered and dry and there were supplies they could use, so it would do for the night. They chatted amiably over a couple of bottles of Alto Wine, exchanging the occasional barbed joke or flirtatious comment, until eventually Marcurio fell asleep on Nadine’s shoulder, cheeks flushed and drooling. She tucked him into his bedroll, making a note to tease him about it tomorrow. But first…

First, she’d make her own notes. She retrieved her journal from her knapsack, along with her ink and quill, and began to scribble.

She wouldn’t be doing any practicing this evening, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t plan.

When Nadine woke, Marcurio’s bedroll laid empty, his robes missing. She sighed. Any time he beat her to the punch on anything it was unbearable. She could hear the snarky, smug little comments now. Sleep well, Nadine? Some of us want to get on with the day. You know you sound like a beached horker when you snore.

When she went through to the main antechamber after hurriedly throwing on her own robes, Marcurio was indeed waiting for her, wearing his signature shit-eating grin. Reading a journal. One that looked gut-wrenchingly familiar.

Oh. Oh, no.

“Nadine Rielle, you are quite the dark horse.” Marcurio’s amber eyes glimmered with mischief. “And here I thought this trip was going to be boring. Who knew Skyrim’s most innocent looking mage also had such an appetite—”

“Marcurio, give that book back now!” Nadine felt as if she was about to burst into flames. That, or tears.

Marcurio grinned. “Think it’s more of a journal than a book. A sex journal, technically.” His eyebrows wiggled. “Rather a detailed one, at that.”

A strand of light yanked the journal from Marcurio’s hands and into Nadine’s. “If you ever go through my personal effects again, I will incinerate your fucking body where you stand.” Nadine could feel her voice shake as she glared daggers into the man. “How dare you violate my privacy, thinking it’s a big joke, that it’s— it’s—”

The tears bubbled from Nadine before she could stop them, fury and shame surging through her body at allowing herself to crumble in front of Marcurio, for allowing herself to be so vulnerable —

“Oh Gods, Nadine, I’m sorry,” Marcurio stuttered, rushing toward her. “I didn’t think you’d get so upset. I thought you’d laugh it off, or maybe punch me in the face.”

“It’s not funny,” Nadine said, glowering. “I don’t look through your belongings, or peek through your private things.” She wiped a tear from her cheek with the sleeve of her robe. “I thought I could trust you.”

The silence rang out, long and painful.

“I’ve been an arsehole.” Marcurio looked at Nadine, his expression uncharacteristically contrite. “You’re right, I violated your privacy and your trust. I wasn’t thinking, I just saw the journal there last night, and I didn’t mean to read, but then when I did—” He bit his lip. “There’s no excuse for it. I’m really, really sorry. You have every right to tell me to fuck off.”

Nadine sniffed. “I do.” She couldn’t bring herself to do it, though. He seemed sincere. Perhaps it was foolishness on her part, but there was something about him that she wanted to trust, to give a second chance. “I swear if I ever catch you with so much as one of my hairpins, I’ll call the Brotherhood on you. And I can make it happen.”

“Shit,” Marcurio said, brow cocked and hands raised in surrender. “I don’t doubt it.” His expression softened. “Get ready, we’ll go get some breakfast. There’s a tavern not too far from here. On me.”

“It’d better be,” Nadine muttered, shoving her journal into her knapsack.

To Marcurio’s credit, he didn’t skimp on breakfast. The innkeeper carted out platters of meats and cheeses, eggs and bread and various other things for them to feast on, along with a large pot of tea. Nadine poured herself a cup, steam rolling from the surface in plumes as she stirred a generous dollop of honey into the amber liquid.

“S’good,” he murmured through a mouthful of snowberry jam-laden toast. Nadine followed suit, biting into her precarious balance of toast-cheese-honey, humming happily as the flavours danced on her tongue. Sipped her tea, eyeing Marcurio.

“It is,” she agreed, honeyed tea glowing warm and wonderful through her. “Hate that you know the way to my heart is through my stomach.”

Marcurio laughed. “Try my best.” He bit his lip, hands hugging his cup protectively. Looking into it, as if considering something. “Uh… not that I want to bring this up again, but…” He shifted nervously. In any other situation Nadine would have gloated. “Your, uh… group—” He lowered his voice. “How do they invite new members?”

The laughter escaped Nadine before she could stop it. Whatever she’d been expecting Marcurio to ask, that wasn’t it. “I’m sorry, I’m just—you’re serious?”

“I am, actually,” Marcurio replied, somewhere between bashful and sullen. He gazed pointedly at his plate, cheeks reddening. In all their travels, Nadine had never seen Marcurio like this before. “I, uh—” He giggled, shrill and unsure. “Gods, can’t believe I’m about to tell you this, but I suppose it’s only fair after what I’ve done. I—I actually have the same fantasy. Have done for a while. Just never found anyone to act them out with.”

That was a surprise, but Nadine did her best to not let her face show it. “If you don’t mind me asking—which ones?”

“All of them?” Another nervous giggle escaped him. “Well, most of them. And a few more.” He was blushing furiously now, and Nadine had to give herself a shake to make sure she wasn’t seeing things. “Spanking, mainly.”

Nadine’s nose wrinkled, amused. “Funny. Always had you pegged as a dominant type.” She grinned. “Thank the Gods you’re not, though. You’d be fucking unbearable.”

“And you’d be bloody terrifying, Rielle.” He looked at her now, some of the tension and awkwardness relieved. Smirking and mischievous, but still with a note of vulnerability to it, like he’d given away some small part of himself he’d never given to anyone else. Nadine knew it was the least he could do, but it still felt genuine, and she appreciated it, treasured it. They held each other’s secrets, now; balance evened, his misdeed paid back in kind.

She ate the last morsel of toast on her plate before responding. “So, are you asking me to pass on your details?”

“Even just put in a good word?”

Nadine smiled. “I’ll definitely put in a word.”

The opportunity presented itself over dinner on Fredas, as Nadine was busy pouring Astrid a fresh goblet of wine.

“Him?” Brynjolf had asked, incredulous. “Are you kidding?” Vex grinned beside him, clearly champing at the bit to say something.

Nadine bit her lip. “Not really, why?”

“Because Mister Irresistible here found someone who was impervious to his charms, and Marcurio was that someone.” The corners of Vex’s mouth twitched. “Still haven’t got over that, have you, Bryn?”

“Shut it, Vex.” His face was stony, set in a scowl. “Wasn’t like that.”

Vex scoffed. “Oh, it absolutely was. You sulked in the Flagon for weeks after he turned you down.”

The look on Brynjolf’s face was somewhere between annoyed and petulant. He huffed, crimson hair falling into his face. “He wasn’t—I’m not—” Nadine had never seen Brynjolf so tongue-tied or bothered by something, and she knew she should feel bad, but it was so comical she had to stop herself from grinning. He sighed, exasperated. “He’s a bloody cocktease, all right?”

“If you say so, Bryn.” Vex downed the last of her mead with a smirk, handing the empty bottle to Nadine. “Anyway, if he’s so curious now, why not give him a chance? Can’t be that much of a cocktease if he’s interested in what we do.” Nadine tossed the empty bottle in the bucket with the others, retrieving a fresh bottle from the crate next to it. “Not if he’s starting from the bottom, anyway. It’s us that’ll be doing the teasing, there.” Vex accepted the replenished drink from Nadine, taking a long, slow sip. “Might be nice to give him a taste of his own medicine, hmm?”

Brynjolf smiled. “As fun as that might be… let’s wait until the lad’s in the door first. Don’t want him thinking there’s any hard feelings.”

“Oh, so you’re on board, then?” Adrianne asked, surveying them from the head of the table. “And everyone else? I have my reservations, given how underhanded he was in finding out about us, but if Nadine can vouch and is willing to overlook his… transgressions, then I’m willing to give him a trial.”

Nods and murmurs of agreement resounded around the table.

“Then it’s settled.” She smiled. “Let’s see what your friend is made of.”

They had set it up carefully, meticulously. An introduction similar to Nadine’s. A test of sorts. Nadine waited alongside Nazir in the small room they’d rented in the Bee and Barb, having skulked in undetected thanks to the Invisibility potion she’d downed in the alleyway. Ulfberth was downstairs, enquiring if there were any sellswords nearby and then paying Marcurio for his services. If all went to plan, they’d both be up soon, Marcurio under the impression that he was to be employed as a mercenary and not lured into… this.

Inwardly, Nadine fretted, worrying at a loose thread on her dress. He’d seemed up for this, but… would he be? What if he wasn’t? She’d said she’d put in a good word, not have him—

“You’re thinking about this again.” Nazir’s voice cut through Nadine’s thoughts.

She frowned. “That obvious?”

“Can practically hear the cogs turning from here,” he said with a wry smile, turning away from the dresser, where he’d laid out his instruments for the evening—paddles, canes, clamps, and a particularly scary looking metal device. Nadine hoped that last one was just for show. “He was the one who approached you about this, correct?”

Her nose wrinkled. “Yes.”

“And you trust us, and him, to call things off if they’re getting too intense?”

“I do.” She sighed, leaning back in her chair. “I trusted Brynjolf and Adrianne and Ulfberth before I joined—enough to let things go the way they did, anyway. I just—”

Nazir’s head jerked towards the door, a creak of stairs cutting through their conversation. He pressed a finger to his lips, and Nadine obeyed, her body itching with anticipation.

Two sets of footsteps drew closer. A key turned in the door. Muffled voices, one soft, one rugged and low.

The door opened, and Ulfberth walked through the barrier, Marcurio behind him. Before he had a chance to notice or react, Nazir shut the door, closing the gap. At least for now.

“Was starting to wonder when you’d show up.”

Marcurio turned around, his initial expression of surprise at seeing Nazir and Nadine in the room giving way to a sly grin. “Could say the same to you. I’m flattered that you’d go to all this effort—”

“You shouldn’t be.” Nazir’s tone was even darker than usual, sending shivers through Nadine. “The only reason we’re here is because you owe Nadine here an apology, and we’re going to make sure she gets it.”

A mock-pout lined Marcurio’s lips. “You mean you and your friend aren’t going to have your way with me?” A malevolent glint flashed in his brown eyes. “Look, you’ve lined out your tools and everything. Don’t think I can behave?”

Nadine could practically feel the heat from Nazir, every last nerve in his body being tested. Marcurio was either very brave, very stupid, or very masochistic. Possibly a mixture of all three. Surprisingly, it was Ulfberth who made the next move. With one hand, he pinned Marcurio’s hands behind his back, the other creeping around his neck, thumbing his collarbone.

“Watch your mouth, pretty boy.”

“Oooh, pretty boy. You must be the charming one.”

Ulfberth’s grip tightened. He leaned into Marcurio, growling into his ear. “Listen here, spellsword. This is what’s going to happen. You apologise to Nadine—properly—and then you take your punishment. And then you leave, arse aching and cock dripping against your robes like the desperate little slut you are. Understood?”

Something like a whimper escaped from Marcurio, his arrogant facade now replaced with something more real, more vulnerable, eyes glazing and cheeks flushed.

“Of course, you’re free to leave,” Ulfberth said, grinning. “Any time you’d like.” His grip loosened. “I’m not stopping you.” Marcurio panted softly against Ulfberth’s slack grip, squirming, an internal battle spelled across his face. “You’re not going to though, are you?” Ulfberth’s hand moved down, palming him through his robes, laying bare the outline of his hardening cock. “Tell me the truth.”

Marcurio swallowed. “I—” A small, pitiful noise escaped him. “I don’t want to leave.”

“Of course you don’t,” Ulfberth growled, low and soft in his ear. “But if you want to stay, you’d best get to work.” He pushed Marcurio; a gentle nudge, but one firm enough to shake him from his reverie. He stood in front of Nadine, with all the grace and awareness of a deer caught in the sights of a hunter’s arrow. It should have been comical, seeing him so clueless, so stunned, so completely out of his depth, but instead it made her skin flush and heat pool in her gut. He bit his lip, scratched his chin, walked nearer towards her.

“I’m truly, truly sorry, Nadine Rielle. I humbly ask your forgiveness, and seek to make reparations in any way you see fit.”

Nadine grinned slyly. “You can start by getting down on your knees.”

A look of indignance flashed across his face momentarily. “Your wish is my command, Miss.”

She had caught the note of sarcasm present in that little quip, and she fully intended to make Marcurio regret it. “Good. Now, while you’re there…” She raised a brow. “Crawl over to me.”

Nazir scoffed. “Let’s hope you’re learning a lesson here, boy.”

Marcurio complied, crawling across and situating himself between Nadine’s legs. “What now? Would you like me to search for dust motes while I’m down here?”

Cheeky shit. Nadine looked at Nazir, questioning, and he nodded. She leaned forward, fisting Marcurio’s hair, winding the ebony locks just tight enough to draw a sharp intake of breath. “I thought you were asked to apologise, not insult me further.” She pulled his head back, angling his face up to look at her. “Now, which was it?”

The look in Marcurio’s eyes was delicious, somewhere between mischievous and lustful, starting to glaze over. “A—apologise, Miss.”

“Good.” She lightly slapped the side of his face. “I’m assuming I don’t need to explain what comes next, but just in case I do—” Nadine took an internal breath, leaning into the somewhat unfamiliar role. “You’re going to lick my cunt like a good boy until I come all over your pretty face. Is that clear?”

Marcurio blushed, his breath hitching. Something like acquiescence left his lips.

“Go on then,” Nadine murmured, chair creaking as she hitched up her skirt. “Don’t make me wait.”

To her extreme relief, he didn’t, working his way up her calves and thighs with long, hungry kisses. For all his cockiness and acerbic wit on the surface, he was clearly putting in the effort, inching upwards with equal parts attentive skill and controlled desire. Nadine leaned back, eyes fluttering shut, allowing herself to sink into the feeling. A finger brushed against her inner thigh, tracing across the dampness that formed on her smallclothes, and a delighted yelp escaped Nadine before she could stop it. The same finger crooked into them, inching them down. An inhale, a low, lustful hum, and then a warm, wet tongue lapping across her cunt.

“Fuck.” It felt good, too good; the hot suction of his mouth, the way each lash and flick against her clit made her body sigh and hum with pleasure. Nadine’s grip on Marcurio’s hair tightened, pulling him further into her, demanding more. He happily obliged, wrapping his arms around her thighs for anchorage as his attentions intensified, never relenting for a second or stopping to come up for air.

Nadine’s plan had been to hold off for as long as she could, to feign disinterest, to make him really work for her forgiveness. Truthfully, she hadn’t expected him to be quite so good at this, and she found her resolve slipping, grinding against Marcurio’s face as he continued to pleasure her fervently. With one hand, she gripped the seat of her chair for dear life, Marcurio’s hair still in her other. Marcurio’s tongue made one final, firm trace across her clit and she was gone, bucking against his face as she came, gasped profanities filling the room as he lapped up the wetness that flowed from her with each divine throb.

She fell back into the chair, body heavy and slack from orgasm, her fingers unwinding from Marcurio’s hair. He surfaced, a pleased look lining his flushed, slicked face.

“You’re much more agreeable when your mouth is occupied,” Ulfberth said, smiling wickedly. “Have to remember that. On the bed, hands and knees.”

Marcurio wasted no time in obeying. He presented himself eagerly, arse in the air, body practically pleading for his punishment.

“Look how desperate the boy is,” Nazir scoffed, examining each implement with careful consideration. “I think he really, really wants to be disciplined.”

“Better make it count then, eh?” Ulfberth replied, his hand crashing down against Marcurio’s arse with trained restraint once, twice, three times. Over cloth, it couldn’t hurt much. But Nadine knew where this was going.

Marcurio didn’t. “Is that it?” He smirked. “Milk drinker.”

Another several spanks were delivered, followed by Ulfberth’s hand rubbing slow circles over his buttocks. The rhythm and routine continued, Ulfberth alternating between smacks and caresses.

“Starting to think you just hired me so you could feel my arse.” Marcurio backed into Ulfberth’s touch, swaying his hips mockingly. “Is that what gets you off, Sir?”

The next strike was far stronger, far more force behind it. Whatever Marcurio had been planning to say next came out in a heaving exhale as Ulfberth’s retribution continued.

“Now, if I’d wanted a whore,” he said between strikes, “I’d have paid one,” another thudding slap echoed through the room as his hand clashed down again, “who could keep their fucking mouth shut.” The hand circled across Marcurio’s arse, slowly reaching to inch down his breeches and smallclothes, revealing his freshly-pinkened cheeks. “No, what I paid you for was strength and resilience, and I’m going to see if you have that.”

“What you paid me for was to be your battlemage, Sir.”

Ulfberth gripped Marcurio’s hair, pulling him upward. “And what you stayed for was this.” He let him fall, running his finger down his back and grasping his arse. “Wanted punished so badly, and you’re going to get it, boy.” A slap echoed through the room as Ulfberth’s hand clashed against Marcurio’s exposed buttock. “Once we’re done with you you’re not going to be able to sit on that bench of yours without wincing.”

One by one, Ulfberth laid the strikes down, handprints forming on Marcurio’s flesh as it reddened. With every smack he lost a little more composure, body trembling and breaths quickening. Still, he didn’t back down.

“Really, you laid out all those scary instruments and you’re still using your hand?” Nadine could hear the heat in Marcurio’s voice, the hint of desperation that lingered under the surface. She wasn’t the only one.

“That almost sounded like begging.” Ulfberth squeezed the abused flesh, and Marcurio winced. “Not quite, though. Think I need to hear you beg properly.” He ran a finger slowly across Marcurio’s cheek, the lines of his handprint beginning to appear. “Tell me what you want.”

Marcurio writhed under Ulfberth’s touch, his back arching. He panted, breaths coming quicker now, but said nothing.

“It would be so easy for me to give you what you wanted,” Ulfberth purred, palming Marcurio’s cheek in his hand. “All you have to do is ask nicely.” Silence, for a moment, before Ulfberth’s punishment began anew, huge palms slapping against bare flesh.

“Please,” Marcurio choked, and Nadine thought she was hearing things. “Please, more. Use something harder, I want it—”

Ulfberth grinned. “Oh, so the slut does know how to behave.” He grabbed the paddle. “Good to know.”

Watching Marcurio be paddled and punished was astonishing. Being broken and made to beg seemed to have unlocked something in him—once he’d started begging, he didn’t seem able to stop. First for the paddle, gasping and moaning as it struck against already tenderised flesh, then for the belt, mewling in wretched pleasure as it snapped against him.

“I wonder what else you want?” Another bright line traced Marcurio’s arse as the belt bit its way across. He shivered.

“I—” Marcurio was writhing, presumably somewhere between agony and bliss. “I want to suck your cock, please, Sir.”

Last week they had gone to the Jarl to fetch their bounty for the bandit raid, and Nadine was sure he hadn’t sounded anywhere near as pleasant or cordial or reverent as he did now. It was surprising, seeing her cocky, brusque associate so different, so submissive, so wanting. Surprising—and rather enjoyable.

Ulfberth chuckled, running the leather belt through his hand. “Doubt you could handle it, pretty boy. Tell you what. We’ll start you off gently. Why don’t you suck off my friend first?”

Nadine tried not to laugh at the suggestion that Nazir was ‘starting off gently’—Marcurio would find out soon enough, and she wanted to see his reaction when he did. At the moment, she couldn’t see his face, only his arched back, his spread legs, his reddened arse lined with handprints and belt marks.

“Turn around, boy,” Nazir said, standing to the side. “Show your friend here what a good cocksucker you are.”

Marcurio shifted, facing him, eyes widening as Nazir pulled his length from his trousers.

“Having second thoughts?” Nazir pressed his cock against Marcurio’s mouth. His brow arched, and Nadine noticed the flash of benevolence in his eyes for a second before the darkness crept back in. “Knew you didn’t have it in you to—”

The end of Nazir’s sentence turned to a low snarl as Marcurio took him in, mouth gliding across the head of his cock in long, slow sweeps. Nazir’s hand fisted his hair, guiding him further, beginning to dictate a rapid, steady pace which Marcurio met with fervour.

“He’s done this before,” Nazir sneered, pushing his head further down, Marcurio almost meeting the coarse thatch of curls that dusted his crotch. Gods, Nadine missed that—sucking actual cock, rather than practicing on produce; the feeling of warm, velvety flesh against her mouth, tongue, lips. The thickness of it, and how it made her jaw ache in just the right way, how it throbbed and twitched every time she did something its recipient liked. Before she could stop herself, her fingers were tracing across her clit, spit and slick coating them as she circled lazily.

Ulfberth cast her a look halfway between amusement and warning. “Looks like your friend’s enjoying herself.” He turned to Nadine. “She better not even think of coming, though.”

Fuck. Nadine’s body trembled at Ulfberth’s command, and then again at the vulgar sounds of Nazir fucking Marcurio’s face, pumping into him with reckless abandon as he whimpered and sucked. It was relentless, and Nadine could tell by the growled obscenities and the stuttering of Nazir’s hips that he was getting close. Marcurio moaned around his cock as Nazir gasped and came, swallowing in rough, shallow gulps. Nazir pulled his head back, pulled himself out, cock still hard and throbbing with the aftershocks of his orgasm, cum dribbling from the tip onto Marcurio’s lips, beard, chin. Nazir’s thumb ran across an errant drop, licking it off as he grinned.

He released his grip, petting through Marcurio’s sweaty, dishevelled locks, caressing along his jaw as he hummed approvingly.

“Look at you, being so good for us now,” Nazir said, only half sarcastic. Marcurio leaned into the touch, looking up at Nazir with glazed, adoring eyes. “Think you can be good for Ulfberth here, too?” Nazir smiled, sharp and predatory. “He’s… quite the mouthful.”

The noise that left Marcurio was so small and needy that Nadine had to bite her lip to keep from giggling. He was practically like a puppy, eager and excitable, nodding quickly.

Ulfberth took his time removing his own breeches and pulling his cock teasingly out from his loincloth, skin around his balls tightening as he gave himself a long, slow stroke. A sharp exhale came from Marcurio at the sight of it—whatever he was expecting likely paled in comparison. The size of it alone was staggering; Ulfberth’s hand barely wrapped around it, and that was as huge as the rest of him. He gave it another tug, pulled back the foreskin, head already glistening with precum.

“Let’s see if you can handle me as well as you handled Nazir.” He moved further towards Marcurio, letting him take it in, lightly carding his hair. “I hope so, because I bet you’d look so, so pretty with my cock in your mouth.” A wretched noise left Marcurio, raw and desperate, catching in his throat. His tongue ran from root to tip in one languid lick, lapping up the slickness before slipping the head past his lips, moaning around it.

“Mmm, I was wrong before,” Ulfberth murmured. “I much prefer a whore who keeps their mouth open for me.” He pushed in further, slowly enough to give Marcurio time to adjust. “I wonder if you’re as talented a mage as you are a cocksucker?”

Nadine had seen both and could confirm he was, but she kept that to herself. Now hardly seemed like the time to bring that up—not while Ulfberth thrust deeper into Marcurio’s drooling mouth, his lips stretched around the man’s formidable cock, nostrils flaring with effort. Not while her own fingers were so busy, matching Marcurio’s rhythm, pleasure throbbing through her. Not while Nazir came up behind him, hands tracing softly over his still-reddened arse before laying down a vicious strike of his own.

“Come on now, boy,” Nazir growled. “Do it like you mean it.”

Marcurio complied, taking an astonishing amount of Ulfberth in his mouth and down his throat before starting the motion anew, mouth sliding across his cock with vigour. With every movement he whimpered, backing into Nazir’s hand as he withdrew, taking more of Ulfberth as he came back forward, fists balling in the sheets in an effort to maintain composure. Ulfberth’s own was slipping too, ever so slightly—the hands that had been on his hips a moment ago now snaked their way up to Marcurio’s neck, softly stroking the hair at the nape, revelling in the texture and feel before fisting it and coaxing Marcurio on.

“That’s it, keep going,” Ulfberth hummed, voice thick with lust. “Just like that. You’re being so good for me, aren’t you…”

A lewd whine came from Marcurio as his knuckles whitened, gripping the covers for dear life. He kept going, faster now, more intense, like he had something to prove. Nazir’s hand gripped his arse, squeezing tight, and Marcurio took Ulfberth’s cock deeper, doing something with his mouth that rent a roar from Ulfberth as he came.

Marcurio didn’t seem to want to let go, to stop sucking. He eventually relented, letting Ulfberth ease his spent cock from his mouth slowly and gently, slumping on the bed breathless. Nadine forced herself to slow her own hand’s attentions, body thrumming with need.

“You’ve been very, very good to us, pretty boy.” Ulfberth traced a finger across Marcurio’s cheek. “I think it’s time we returned the favour.”

Marcurio sighed, looking up at Ulfberth, hopeful.

“I bet you’re just aching to come, aren’t you?” He grinned. “But we’re going to give you a choice. We can make you come—and I promise you, you’ll leave here barely able to walk, we’ll take such good care of you—or you can behave yourself, hold off, and we might invite you somewhere more exciting than the backroom of a tavern in Riften. What do you reckon, boy?”

“Fuck.” Marcurio squirmed, half-rutting against the bedsheets. “Please.”

“Not sure which you want, but I suppose we’ll find out, won’t we, Nazir?”

An excessive amount of oil poured down and into the cleft of Marcurio’s arse, dripping down over his balls onto the mattress. Nazir’s hand followed, rubbing it into the taut skin, inching further upward to slowly, slickly massage his cock. His hands gripped the bedsheets harder as he mewled, arching his back instinctively into the sensation, visibly fighting not to desperately rut into Nazir’s hand. When a finger pressed against his arsehole, circling languorously before inching in, he fought harder—skin shining with sweat, breaths coming out in ragged gasps. Nadine’s fingers followed suit, circling her clit, and she could hear own breath mirroring his, heavy and lustful, could feel her chest rise with every inhale. Her whole body throbbed. Another finger slipped in, curving and hitting Marcurio somewhere that made him moan in guttural, raw tones ripped from his throat.

“I think we’ve found exactly what the boy likes,” Nazir murmured, never relenting his deliberate motions. “I’m sure he’d like to take both our cocks, wouldn’t he?”

Marcurio squirmed. “Gods, fuck— please —”

“Bet he wouldn’t even break a sweat taking yours, Ulfberth.” His fingers crooked. Marcurio whined, drooling into the sheets. Ulfberth paced towards him, stroking his jaw, letting him whimper.

“I’d still wanna treat him right, though.” He smiled down at Marcurio in feigned benevolence. “Pretty boy like this, you wanna take your time with. Kiss him slow, suck his cock, eat him out until he’s dripping all over the—”

“Stop! Please—” Marcurio gasped, voice strained. “I don’t want to come yet, I want you, please—I can’t hold off if you keep and I want to—” His whole body shook, a spasm rolling through it as he struggled to keep composure. “I want to be good for you.”

Nazir freed Marcurio from his grip, carefully withdrawing his fingers. “Impressive.” His tone was utterly sincere. “Didn’t think you were the type to delay gratification, but obviously I’ve underestimated you.” He wiped his hands on a cloth, eyeing him dubiously. “Don’t let it go to your head.”

Ulfberth took a gentler approach. He cupped Marcurio’s chin, gazing into his unfocused eyes. “Doing all right?” He offered his hand, and Marcurio took it, Ulfberth helping ease him upright and into his arms. “You did so, so well.”

It was almost surreal, watching the aftermath from the outside—Marcurio curling up in Ulfberth’s lap, still trembling with adrenaline and tension as he nuzzled into his beard, strong arms wrapped around him holding him tight. Soft, soothing words cooed in his ear, kisses planted gently on his temple, his crown, his forehead. It was so achingly intimate, and suddenly, strangely, Nadine felt she was intruding.

“Want some salve?” Ulfberth asked, smoothing down an errant curl.

Marcurio laughed. “Had worse than that, but if you’d like to, then go ahead.”

Ulfberth leaned down, kissing Marcurio softly and slowly. “I take good care of my boys.”

Nadine had half expected a witty retort, or some kind of response. Honestly, in his position, she’d have been tempted to make one herself. So when Marcurio turned around instead, letting Ulfberth tend to his punished arse with little more than a few murmurs of approval, she was surprised. She could understand, though. It was a warm feeling, being tended to, being taken care of after a scene. She loved that part almost as much as the scene itself.

They all shared a kiss goodbye, seeing Marcurio off one by one, edges of their facades dulled in the afterglow. Squeezed him tight, murmured approving things in his ear. When he got to Nadine, she grinned at him, running her finger playfully across his now cum-covered beard as they departed.

“So, you’ll keep me in mind?” he asked. “For mercenary work, of course.”

She gave him a wink. “I’ll let you know if anything comes up.”

Chapter Text

Marcurio’s initiation had been a success—or so Nadine had heard. Once again, nature had trumped best laid plans, and she’d been forced to sit that week out. She’d felt strangely cheated—it was her introduction, after all, that had brought him to the Sanctum in the first place—but she hoped tonight would make up for it.

When she arrived, walking into the bathhouse with purpose, Marcurio was there, as if he’d always been a part of things. He was lounging back in the tub, droplets of water cascading from his ink-black hair, chatting easily to Gwilin, who blushed as he knotted his own copper locks into a neat ponytail.

She smiled. “Settling in?”

Marcurio met her grin in kind, eyes twinkling and mouth curling slyly. “Certainly been to worse establishments.” He stood up, water dripping down his body as Gwilin rushed to hand him a towel. He gave the mer a quick wink in response, rubbing his face and hair as he stepped from the tub. “You missed my welcome party.”

Nadine shrugged, apologetic. “Nature’s a pain in the arse.”

“Least you don’t have to worry about a refractory period,” Marcurio scoffed. “Speaking of pains in the arse…” He turned around, displaying the myriad bruises and marks that lined his buttocks and thighs, shades of yellow-green-blue blending into the olive of his skin. “They put me through my paces.”

“The Gauntlet?”

Marcurio nodded. “Quite the eventful evening.” He beamed, wearing his bruises like war scars, symbols of pride. There were other scars Nadine had never seen, too—a long cut running down his side, jagged and white, and forked tongues of scar tissue on his thigh, characteristic of a particularly nasty shock magicka injury. She often forgot he was a mercenary, one who took on scarier jobs than the ones she did. She just saw a mage too cocky for his own good, deadly yet ultimately fragile.

“Well, I’m certainly sorry I missed that,” Nadine said, and grinned. She climbed into the tub and washed herself standing, careful not to soak the fresh image of nightshade that lined her side. That, she cleaned carefully and diligently, skin still tender and healing, colours vivid against the cream of her skin.

Marcurio’s eyes gravitated towards it, eyeing the design approvingly. “Pretty. When did you get that done?”

“Same time Gwilin got that ring in his ear—right after everyone here tanned your hide.” Nadine grinned. “We had a fun day in Riften.”

“And you waited until I wasn’t there?” Marcurio pouted. “You wound me, Nadine.” He pressed himself against Gwilin’s back, arms wrapping around his neck. “Least your friend here’s much kinder,” he purred, pressing a kiss against the shell of Gwilin’s ear and grinning as the mer’s cock throbbed in response.

Nadine stepped out of the bath, water seeping into the stone underfoot. “Such a tease. Suppose I’ll get my own towel, then?” She’d meant it in jest, but Gwilin broke away, grabbing a towel from the chest and handing it to her sheepishly. Marcurio laughed.

“Better behaved than we’ll ever be, Rielle.”

Nadine towelled herself off, mouth quirking in response. “Don’t I know it.”

Gwilin and Nadine had become fast friends. His cheerfulness was infectious, his shy smile and tirelessly positive demeanour a breath of fresh air among Skyrim’s frequently dour residents, and Nadine found herself spending a great deal of her free time with him.

“Take it the two of you are getting along, then?” Brynjolf raised a brow, grinning hungrily as he took them both in. They held hands, their fingers twined, and Gwilin gave Nadine’s a comforting squeeze as if to say we’re in this together . A funny sort of camaraderie, given their current state of undress, their current predicament. “Nice to see the work in detail, lass.” Brynjolf moved closer, running a finger over the still-raised lines on her side, eyeing her marked skin with something bordering reverence. She trembled, sighing into the contact. Already beginning to lose composure, giving over to the side of herself that wanted to let go and sink under.  

“Had a few ideas for this evening, since you’ve both got so… close.” He cupped each of their faces, smiling wickedly. “Thought maybe you could get a bit closer. Try out some new things. I bet there’s some things you still don’t know about each other, but you’ll know them by the end of tonight.”

Gwilin swallowed, his face flushing all the way to his ear tips. Their hands were still clasped together, but their connection somehow felt tremulous, palms slick with sweat. “What things, Sir?”

The look Brynjolf gave in response was downright predatory. “Glad you asked, lad. There are still a few things you’ve yet to explore, aren’t there?” He let his gaze linger, piercing and lecherous. “And dear, sweet Nadine here still has a few things on her list to tick off too. So why not have you do them to each other?”

They blinked, neither saying anything.

“You’ll remember your first meeting, I take it?”

How could Nadine forget? A blush crept across her face as she thought back to Gwilin’s writhing body, his pleading face, his desperate moans. Please, Miss Nadine. In her periphery, she saw his cock bob, and knew he was remembering too.

Brynjolf grinned. “I’ll take that as a yes. She’s a deadly one, isn’t she, lad?” He ran a finger across the nightshade on her side, and Nadine’s legs almost buckled underneath her at the contact against the still-tender flesh. “Did you know she likes rutting up against thieves’ legs and then being gagged by her own soaked smallclothes?”

Nadine’s skin burned furiously. “Bryn, that was private!”

Brynjolf just laughed in response, green eyes twinkling with deviance. “Don’t tell me you’re embarrassed about it now, lass?” His eyebrow quirked. “You wrote me some very interesting letters. And while we’re sharing stories, maybe I should share the one about the night Gwilin spent down in the Flagon, before you both went off to get prettied up with gold and ink?”

Gwilin squirmed, heat rolling off him in waves.

“Kept me and Vex very good company,” Brynjolf purred, eyes gleaming with wickedness. “Pleasured us both until we were spent, and then licked your own cum off of our fingers, didn’t you?”

“Yes, Sir,” Gwilin said, small and slightly breathless.

Fuck. Nadine would have paid good septims to have seen that.

“So, I had an idea. A way the pair of you could become… closer, while also trying out some new things. On each other, of course.” Brynjolf smiled. “This week, Gwilin—Nadine’s in charge of you. She’ll be following my command—mostly—but you’ll answer to her. Understood?”

Gwilin looked at Brynjolf, then to Nadine, startled. “Y—I—yes, Sir?”

Nadine was similarly surprised. Of all the things she’d expected this week, being in control of Gwilin wasn’t one of them. Not that she was averse to the idea. Already, she felt her blood pulse, excited by the possibilities running through her head.

“Good.” He eyed them appraisingly, thinking. “Nadine, come here.”

She let Gwilin’s hand fall out of hers as she walked over to Brynjolf, tucking her hair behind her ear. He leaned in, speaking his commands low and soft in her ear.

“I want to see what you’ve learned, lass. So—tease him, work him up, and suck his cock until he begs you to stop or you make him come.”

Oh, she could do that. She nodded and paced back over to Gwilin, eyeing him with a look that made him squirm. Cupping his chin, she ran her thumb across his cheek, softly, sweetly, savouring how it made him shiver.

“Darling Gwilin,” she said, voice low, “Are you going to be good for me?”

He swallowed. “I’m going to try, Miss.”

“Miss.” Nadine smiled. “I like that.” She ran a finger slowly down his clavicle, toying with the ring on his collar. “So reverent. So obedient.” She leaned in further. “Do you think you can be as obedient when I’ve got your cock halfway down my throat?”

The whimper that came from Gwilin made Nadine throb. “Y-yes, Miss,” he said, eyes half-lidded and glassy, already starting to turn into putty in her hands. “I can behave.”

“I don’t doubt it,” Nadine said, running her fingers down his sides. “You’re so very polite. I bet you sound adorable when you beg.” Gwilin’s breath came out in a long, slow exhale, blooming hot across Nadine’s skin. “And I really, really want to hear you beg, darling.”

She captured Gwilin’s bottom lip between hers, nibbling gently, toes curling into the stone beneath her as he moaned into the kiss. His arms stroked tentatively at her sides, testing the water as she fisted one hand in his ponytail, combing the copper locks through her fingers and giving them a light pull. Their kiss deepened, tongues moving in tandem as they brushed across each other, across lips, teeth grazing gently at the plump flesh. Nadine’s hands pawed impatiently at Gwilin’s body, every moan and whimper wrung from him a sublime triumph, every errant movement he made a sign she was doing something right. She dragged her nails slowly down his sides, her intention pleasure rather than pain, and he broke the kiss, keening into Nadine’s neck.

“You’re a very good kisser,” Nadine mumbled into Gwilin’s ear, surprise creeping into her tone. Perhaps a little out of character, but she could live with that.

Gwilin’s ear twitched, flushed and sensitive, gold ring glinting as it caught the light. “Thank you, Miss Nadine.”

“Wonder what else you can do with that mouth of yours, hmm?” She traced his kiss-swollen lips, warm and soft under the pad of her thumb. “I bet you’re spectacular at eating cunt.” Gwilin melted into her, a low sigh escaping him. “Would you like to eat mine?”

“Gods, yes,” he said, nodding emphatically. “Please, Miss.”

Nadine smiled. “Not yet. Remember what I said about begging?” He nodded. “And how am I going to hear you beg when your skilled tongue is so busy?” She pouted, running a finger languorously down his torso, stopping just above his crotch. He shivered. “Over on the bed, please.”

Gwilin obeyed. “Face up or down, Miss?”

He really is obedient. “On your back, darling.” Nadine followed, climbing up after him and situating herself between his legs. “Such a well behaved slut, aren’t you?” She ran a finger over the soft skin between his thighs and balls, watching how he squirmed and keened and thrust into nothing.

Already, Nadine could see the cracks beginning to form in Gwilin’s composure; stuttered movements, panted breaths, eyes burning with want. It wouldn’t be long, she hoped, until the words she longed to hear flowed from his sweet lips like honey— please, yes, more. Still, if she could speed that up some, all the better. She leaned down, black hair falling over her shoulders and brushing against Gwilin’s thighs, kneeling between his legs and gripping his cock in her hand as her other caressed the smooth, taut skin of his balls.

His head fell back, something raw and vulnerable tearing from his throat. Slowly, she began to lick along the length of him, savouring every last second—velvety and warm and salty-sweet on her tongue. She was going to use every trick she’d learned, every last technique in her arsenal to leave him bucking and shuddering and begging for release. Her nails trailed lightly across his balls as she took the head of his cock in her mouth, his involuntary jolt of surprise pushing it in further. She gave an approving hum, mouth gliding across his length in long, slow motions.

“Fuck,” Gwilin half sighed, half hissed, cock throbbing against Nadine’s tongue. She looked up at him. The brown of his irises was almost eclipsed by the blown-out black of his pupils; his face, chest and ears were all flushed that delightful shade of rose-pink that sat so prettily against the pale gold of his skin. It would look even better with his cum covering it, pearly and messy and slick, her feeding it back to him from her dripping fingers. Hungrily, she took him deeper, nearly to the base, tongue rolling against the length of him as her eyes fluttered shut and she let herself melt into the feeling of it all. Her cunt throbbed, dripping with her own desire, and she had to fight hard not to grind against Gwilin’s leg, not to stop sucking his cock and fuck it instead. But she’d been given a task, and ultimately she still wasn’t the one in charge—that much was apparent from the murmurs of approval in the background, the swish of leather, rough breaths that weren’t Gwilin’s.

“Mmm, someone’s been studying.” Brynjolf’s voice ran up Nadine’s spine like wildfire. “You keep your arse in the air like that, lass, I might take it as an invitation.”

Nadine moaned into Gwilin’s cock, the mere suggestion making heat pool fierce in her core. Please. She sucked harder. Fingers ran across her cunt, making her squirm against the two men, her attentions on Gwilin intensifying. He moaned, sharp and vulnerable, catching in his throat; the sound of Brynjolf working her over was barely audible underneath. Against her better judgement, she ground against Brynjolf’s fingers, urgently chasing her pleasure.

“That desperate?” She could hear Brynjolf’s smirk, followed by the sound of him sucking his fingers clean. “All right then, lass.”

Taking Gwilin’s cock in her throat had been easy. Taking it while having her own cunt licked was something else entirely. She whimpered into the curls at the base of Gwilin as Brynjolf’s tongue ran warm and wet against her, stubble scratching against her sensitive lips. Her fingers gripped Gwilin’s thigh tightly as she struggled to concentrate, struggled to keep her throat relaxed and accepting, taking as much of him as she possibly could. Each movement seemed to play off another, and it was a blur of mess and noise, difficult to tell where one person’s pleasure began and ended; each person moaning loudly into another, begging through words or motions for more of whatever it was they craved.

“Please, Miss Nadine—” Gwilin’s hips were stuttering now, his breaths coming out in ragged gasps. “I can’t—I need to—please—”

It was too much—his voice straining, hands tangling in her hair, back arching; Brynjolf gripping her thighs as his tongue laved across her clit. Nadine couldn’t stop. Her tongue teased and coaxed, Gwilin’s length throbbing against it as he came, stuttered moans pouring from him as she swallowed him down. Reluctantly she pulled away, breathless and shaking and incredibly pleased, an errant strand of cum spilling from her lips and down his softening cock. She slumped onto his body, sweat-slick and hot against hers, the taste of him still lingering on her tongue as Brynjolf’s slowed to a stop.

“Nicely done,” he purred, landing a playful slap on Nadine’s arse. “Still doesn’t take much for the pair of you, does it? Hope neither of you think we’re finished.”

Nadine climbed up, licking the mess from Gwilin’s spent cock and giggling at the twitch it sent through his body. “I hope not, Sir.”

“Better hope you didn’t suck the soul out of the lad,” Brynjolf remarked, eyebrow raised. “Was hoping to still have some fun with him.”

“I’m fine, Sir,” Gwilin chimed in, still dazed and afterglow-soft. “Just give me a moment.”

“Good.” Brynjolf eyed Gwilin approvingly. “Because you’ll probably need your cock for the next part. Either that or you’ll need to have a dig through Vex’s gear,” he said, grinning. “There’s still time, though. I need to prepare Nadine first.”

“Prepare? What for?”

“Gwilin, if you’d be so kind as to get off the bed? Feel free to pull up a chair, if you’d like. Enjoy the view.” He winked.

Nadine frowned. “Brynjolf, what for?”

He turned to her with an uncharacteristically stony expression on his face. “How are you to address me within the Sanctum, Nadine?”

Oh. Nadine bit her lip, fingers worrying at the blanket underneath. “Sorry, Sir.”

“Better.” His expression softened, almost imperceptibly. “Back on your hands and knees, now.”

She shuffled into position, expression sullen. It wasn’t until moments like this that Nadine started to see more of the rogue in him, the learned, easy authority that came with being one of the most established members of a dangerous and illicit underground organisation.

“Are you going to tell me what you’re preparing me for now, Sir?” Nadine couldn’t stop the surliness from creeping into her tone, and Brynjolf noticed. A hand struck across her arse, drawing a cry of surprise from her.

“What I should be preparing you for is a hard spanking, lass,” Brynjolf said, something like irritation spiking his voice. “Or maybe teaching you how to be patient.” His hand lingered over where it had hit, rubbing small, slow circles before striking down again. “Perhaps you can guess what it is I’m preparing you for, hmm?”

“B—Sir, I’ve honestly no idea, please just tell me—”

Two smacks rained down this time, the sting radiating through Nadine’s skin. She yelped, writhing against the bedsheets, trying her best to stay upright.

“C’mon, lass, where’s the fun in that?” Fuck, she could hear the grin on his face. Smug bastard. “I’ll give you a clue. It’s something Gwilin’s done that you haven’t.”

That could be anything. Nadine didn’t know the mer’s sexual history extensively, but she’d already seen him glazed like a sweetroll, which as of yet remained unchecked off her list. “Am I sucking off the whole Sanctum this evening, Sir?”

Brynjolf chuckled, dark and honeyed, and she could feel it in her veins, wanted to drown in it. “As enticing a prospect as that would be—” his breath tickling the barest parts of her, “—I don’t feel like sharing you this evening. Except with Gwilin, of course. Take another guess.”

Fuck. Please. Nadine shivered, breathless and desperate. “Sir, I don’t know, please just—”

The words died in her throat at the feel of something warm and wet and gorgeous moving along the cleft of her arse, circling softly and pliantly against her hole.

Oh.

“That help any?” Brynjolf purred, mouth still nestled between her cheeks, the low vibration of his voice shaking her to her fucking bones.

“Yes,” Nadine gasped, before his tongue returned, and Gods, it was fucking transcendental, the feeling; being prepared, being pleasured, being savoured. He traced over every available inch of Nadine, exploring each crook and curve with an enthusiasm that was startlingly intimate, and for a moment Nadine felt outside herself, dreamlike and fuzzy and delightfully detached. Hearing the moans that spilled from her lips, only vaguely aware it was her that was making them. Feeling the plush, soft give of the bed beneath her, fists balled in the blankets, soaked with sweat and saliva. Soft, satisfied hums from somewhere behind her. Strong hands wrapped around her thighs, groping her cheeks, spreading her wider apart as Brynjolf devoured her like ripe fruit.

“Please.” The word spilled from Nadine before she was even aware it was doing so, before she could even attempt to parse what it was she was begging for. It rung out in the chamber, small and hollow and desperate; one small word that might get her what she wanted, what she needed. “Gods, please.”

She felt Brynjolf’s tongue withdraw, stubble scratching across her skin as he grinned against her. “Need something?”

Nadine needed several things. It was how to ask for them that eluded her. She writhed into the sheets, sweaty and pent-up and messy.

“I wonder what it is my lass needs,” he murmured, kneading her arse in his hand almost appraisingly. “Maybe something more?” A thumb slipped between the cheeks, running slowly between, tracing across her hole. “Why don’t you tell me what it is you want?”

“This,” Nadine whined, arching up into the contact. “I want this.”

“Going to need you to be more specific than that.” A slap fell across Nadine’s buttock, more playful than painful. “Because ‘this’ could be me eating you out until you sob,” he said, driving home his point with one languid lick against her hole that made Nadine want to wail in pleasure, “Or it could be me fucking your arse with my fingers until you beg for something more. So, which one is it, pretty thing?”

A shudder rolled through Nadine’s body, desire and desperation coiling taut inside her. “F-fingers,” she said, words thick and foreign in her mouth. “Please.”

The slick glide of oil followed, so cool it almost shook her from her daze. It warmed quickly under Brynjolf’s touch, his fingers circling across the skin and massaging it in with gentle precision before one dipped slowly into the hot, tight clench of her arse.

“You taste fucking delicious, you know,” he said, almost conversationally as his finger pushed further in, curving in a way that made Nadine’s knees buckle and her cunt throb. “All displayed to me like that. I could eat you out all day, until you were coming over my face and dripping down my chin.” His other hand snaked around to her stomach, tracing its way down to her cunt, sliding across the wetness that flowed from it. “Lick up every single drop, and then I’d eat your pretty arse too, until you were shaking and so spent you couldn’t take any more.” His fingers slid across her clit, drawing a cry from Nadine so guttural she didn’t even recognise it as her own voice, every nerve in her body blazing as Brynjolf toyed with her, worked her over, took her apart. She hadn’t known it was possible to want so badly, but every inch of her screamed with it, cunt soaking Brynjolf’s hand as she rutted against him.

“Please,” Nadine panted, barely holding it together. “I need—I can’t—” She rolled her hips again, revelling in the pleasure that coursed through her. “Fuck me, Sir, please—”

“That desperate, lass?” Brynjolf’s voice was still soft, still smooth, but there was a mocking curl to it now, an edge that made Nadine squirm. The finger withdrew, and Nadine whined until two re-entered in its place, stretching and filling her so exquisitely it made her toes curl. “I’m not going to. But maybe if you ask Gwilin nicely, he will.”

Nadine turned around, heart pounding in her chest as she saw Gwilin splayed out on the armchair, slowly stroking his cock, other hand tracing his collarbone as if seeking anchorage. His eyes, glassy and dark, shone with equal parts awe and heat as he took her in. Still reverent and kind, but there was a hunger there that hadn’t been present before, a knowledge of some part of Nadine that hadn’t been previously uncovered. The thought should have made her shiver with vulnerability, but somehow… there was a liberating quality to it, that he knew that side of her and was still here, still willing. She trusted him, intimately. And Gods, she fucking wanted him.

“Please, Gwilin,” she said, voice thick with lust. “Gods, please fuck me.”

Gwilin swallowed, the noise thick in the quiet, taking in Nadine before turning to Brynjolf. “May I, Sir?”

A nod and a grin from Brynjolf gave him the answer he needed, and his hand slowed, body shaking with restraint. He stood up, walking out of Nadine’s line of sight, feet gently padding against stone. Brynjolf’s fingers left her and she shivered, the absence of heat and sensation leaving her bereft. All she could hear were soft murmurs behind her; whispers to each other as they discussed what was to come.

Soft, gentle hands touched her sides. “Please, Miss Nadine… take it slow, and tell me if it hurts. It’s fine if you need to stop.”

Sweet fucking Sanguine, Nadine just wanted it to start . “Yes, Gwilin.” She arched up further, leaned back, felt each movement send shivers of sensation rolling through her body. “Gods, please, just—” Her voice cracked, so vulnerable, so needy. “Fuck me, please.”

Nadine thanked every Divine she could think of that Gwilin had an ounce more mercy than she did. He pushed his oil-slicked cock up against her arsehole, one hand holding her hip just firmly enough to guide but not pull. All the control was hers, everything she wanted there for the taking, and there was something so intoxicating about it; knowing she could take the reins and dictate the situation until it overpowered her, knowing she could hand them over to another and trust them to take her apart and rebuild her in the most delicious ways. She pressed back onto Gwilin’s cock, feeling her flesh yield to accept the width of it, letting out a lustful sigh at the feel of his head stretching her out. It was astonishing how much more intense it was than anything else that had entered her this way—plugs, fingers, anything. It felt so full, so warm, so immense, and she trembled, inching back slightly in an attempt to take more.

“Go as slow as you need, Miss Nadine,” Gwilin said, voice hoarse and stuttered and breathless. “Let me take care of you.” His arm wrapped around her, hand trailing slowly down her stomach before his fingers splayed across the slickness of her cunt. A soft, small whimper escaped him, and Nadine could feel his cock twitch inside her, thick and hot and hard. She bit her lip, holding back moans as he teased her clit, forcing back the urge to fuck Gwilin more intensely than was currently sensible. She moved in the rhythm of his fingers, feeling herself accepting more of him, little by little, never taking too much. A noise came from him that was all heat, a low, dark growl in the back of his throat that Nadine had never heard from him before, and she couldn’t stop herself from taking him to the hilt in one smooth thrust, grinding against his fingers wantonly as she did so.

“I hope you two aren’t getting carried away,” Brynjolf said from somewhere nearer than she’d expected. She looked up, seeing him in front of her, watching over them with fire in his eyes and his cock in hand.

“Sir, please—” Nadine moaned, Gwilin’s fingers unrelenting against her clit. “I’m so close, please—”

Brynjolf moved closer, looking down at her with a dark, dangerous smile. “Do you think you’ve earned it, pretty thing?”

“I—” Nadine squirmed, choking back a whimper. “No, fuck, I don’t know Sir, I just—” She shuddered, trying to fight off the feeling building fierce in her core. “Please, I need this so much, I can’t—”

A thumb brushed across her face. “Can barely speak, can you?” It pressed between her lips, coaxing them open. “Maybe you can beg me another way, hmm?”

He pressed his cock against her lips, smearing precum over them as Nadine opened to accept, licking the salty fluid from the tip. Concentration was beyond her, but she did her best to focus, sucking fervently as he pushed in slower, deeper.

“You can come, pretty thing. As many times as you like.” His hand curled around her head. “But don’t dare stop.”

Nadine didn’t think she could if she tried. Her tongue lapped gently at the base, revelling in its thickness, the way it made her jaw ache in just the right way. She happily let Brynjolf wrap his fingers in her hair as he dictated a slow, steady rhythm, let Gwilin tease her and fuck her, keeping pace with Brynjolf, simultaneously too much and not enough. She ground against him, urged him to pick up the pace, moaned around Brynjolf’s cock when her movement was met in kind, and Gods, didn’t it feel so fucking good being used like this, taken like it was the only thing she’d need to do for the rest of her life, fucked senseless and wrung out until everything felt fresh and good and new.

She rutted against Gwilin’s hand, pleasure building hot and tight in her gut, and when she came it felt like something snapping, coming undone, spilling over her in thick, blissful waves and shaking her to her core. She sucked Brynjolf’s cock in the same spasmodic rhythm of her body’s aftershocks, her whole body on fire as both men fucked her, caressed her, cradled her, each movement just this side of too much. Fingers trailed down her side, barely tracing the outline of her tattoo, and it felt like Oblivion, the sharp twinge of pain taking her higher, making her shake—

Drool dripped down her chin, Brynjolf’s cock breaching her throat as she came again, squirming and moaning around it. Each second rolled on into infinity, each pulse of sublime sensation nearly overpowering her, each clench of her arse around Gwilin’s cock knocking the breath from her lungs. So she sucked, the one strange anchor she had in this moment, as if it’d give her the oxygen and solidity she needed; kept moving in tandem, kept taking, kept being taken, and Gods, it was too much, would it ever be enough—

Murmured obscenities drifted in and out of her ears as she floated in the aether, orgasms blurring into one another like smudged ink, hands wrapped in her hair, around her thighs, sinking into the soft flesh of her. The grip on her head tightened, and she felt the pulse against her tongue, heard the guttural growl that followed as Brynjolf came, spurting hot and frantic down her throat. Swallowed hungrily, messily, greedily, revelling in every purr and hum her mouth coaxed from her Master.

“Fuck.” The word came from Brynjolf in a laboured pant, laced with heat and effort. “Someone’s been practicing.” He pulled his cock from Nadine’s mouth, still half-hard and slick with saliva. “Such a good, studious slut, aren’t you?”

Nadine whimpered. Gods, she loved when he talked to her like that, all honey-tipped and degrading, telling her how good she was for doing naughty things. “Yes, Sir.”

“Being so good for me and Gwilin,” he continued, gently running his fingers through her hair. “Taking us both inside you at the same time. Just like the sight you saw the first night I met you, eh lass?” Caressed her cheek, ran the pad of his thumb over her bottom lip. “Remember how embarrassed you were coming back to me with the news? Now look at you.” He grinned, utterly shameless. “Gwilin was the same, but it didn’t take long for him to get on his knees and suck our cocks either, did it?” He licked his lips, teeth glimmering in the dim light. “Even before he reached the Sanctum, he was well practiced. Practically sucked me and Ulfberth dry, didn’t he, obeyed our every command, was so good for us…” He smiled hungrily, looking at Gwilin appraisingly. “Go on, then.”

Nadine hadn’t heard him begging this time, but she heard him come; raw, stuttered gasps that tore from his throat as he drove into her, cock pulsing and hot cum spilling from him. He fell against her, sweat-soaked and breathless, peppering kisses across her back and shoulders as he struggled to gain composure. She attempted to, too; still hazy and afterglow-soft, somewhere between reality and someplace less tangible, more abstract. Gwilin pulled out, and she felt the warm spill of his cum against her, the chill at the absence of his body pressed against hers.

“Could I have a cloth, please?” Her own voice sounded foreign, hollow, distant. “And a cuddle.”

Brynjolf smiled, letting go of her hair. “Sure we can manage that.” He cupped her chin, kissing her soft and slow, the taste of her still lingering on his tongue. Pulled away far too soon, stroking her cheek soothingly with his thumb as the bed dipped under her. “Be right back, lass.”

The door of the Sanctum chamber closed behind Brynjolf and Gwilin, and suddenly the whole room seemed empty. Still and quiet and oppressive, in a way it hadn’t ever seemed before. The sound seemed to echo on in her head, the finality of it something harrowing; something like an omen.

Emotion hit Nadine like an ocean swell, unexpected and crashing and overwhelming, capsizing her before she could do anything about it. Tears rolled down her face, soaking into the blanket below, and her body heaved with the effort of untempered feelings—lost and lonely and painfully vulnerable. She couldn’t stop sobbing, and Gods, she didn’t know if she felt wonderful or terrible, still fuzzy and dazed and in dire need of someone near to tell her she was okay, that she’d done well, that she was enough—

“Gods, Nadine, what’s wrong?” Concern filled Gwilin’s voice as he crouched next to her, cloth in hand. “Did I hurt you?”

Nadine choked back a small sob, smiling at him. “No. You didn’t hurt me.” She sniffed, steadying her breathing. “Was just… a lot, that’s all.” She reached out, taking the warm cloth and wiping her face. “I—it was—I felt—” She sighed. “Hard to explain. Ups and downs, maybe? But it was amazing. And I just felt… lonely afterwards, and—”

Gwilin cradled her in his arms, placing a kiss on the crown of her head. “You did so well. Sorry I dashed off to get a cloth.” He eased her over, climbing up next to her. “Speaking of which, let me.” Taking the cloth from her hand, he eased apart her legs, cleaning her with such a gentle care that she thought she’d start crying again.

“This is so nice.” Nadine smiled, stretching into the sheets. “Sometimes I think I like this almost as much as all the other stuff we do.” She turned around. “Was… was my part all right? Before we—before I—”

“Gods, yes,” Gwilin responded emphatically. “For having such a sweet face, you’re rather terrifying sometimes.”

Nadine giggled. “Good to know.”

Footsteps echoed through the chamber as Brynjolf returned, carrying a massive plate of food and bottles of mead along with him. “Sorry I left you both so long,” he said, grinning crookedly at the pair. “Hope you didn’t miss me too much.”

Nadine pouted. “Gwilin cleaned me up,” she said, more petulantly than she liked. “Supposed to be your job, Sir.” She looked apologetically at Gwilin. “Not that I didn’t like you doing it.”

“You’re right,” Brynjolf smiled. “Let me make it up to you both?”

“Can’t really say no when you’re holding that platter, can I?” Nadine quipped.

A few moments later and they were tucking into cheese and bread and fruit and honey, all silenced by the delights in front of them. Whoever had prepared this earlier had put on a lovely spread—this was cheese from back home, Camlorn if Nadine had to guess, and some dried dates from Hammerfell—and she nestled in the crook of Brynjolf’s arm, contentedly nibbling. Gwilin mirrored her on the other side, taking a long pull from his mead as he balanced his plate of what looked to be meat sandwiched in between cheese on his stomach.

“So,” Brynjolf said, tearing off a piece of bread. “You never did tell me what you two got up to that night after I left you in the Bee and Barb, did you?”

Nadine giggled. “I don’t kiss and tell, Sir.”

Chapter Text

It never failed to amaze Nadine how the outside world melted away within the Sanctum walls. Clouds of steam plumed around her as she emerged from the bathtub, the thick, heady scent of lavender and rose rising to meet her.

Ingun helped her out of the bath, wrapping her in a warm, soft towel. “Enjoying yourself, Nadine? Dry off. I’ve still got to get you ready.”

The woman was even more perfunctory than usual, if that was possible—she took Nadine in dispassionately, a smirk forming at the corner of her crimson-stained lips. It had no right being anywhere near as attractive as it was, but Nadine found her own mouth curving into a sly grin as she patted herself dry. 

If Ingun noticed, she opted to ignore it. “You’ve already been chosen by your partner, and they’re… particular about how they like their playthings.” She smiled coolly. “I should know.”

That narrowed the list of potential playmates significantly, and Nadine had a good guess as to who she’d be playing with tonight. Everyone had their favourites here in the Sanctum despite their insistences otherwise, and the more sadistic members seemed to favour Ingun. Probably, Nadine mused, because she shared their appetite for pain in droves. Ingun terrified and intrigued her, like a toxic plant or a venomous spider; beautiful and deadly in equal measure.

The teeth of the comb passed through her hair, Ingun’s fingers following with a touch somewhere between caring and rough as she weaved Nadine’s hair into an intricate braid. She held it against the nape of Nadine’s neck as she pulled loose a length of green ribbon, matching the one in her hair, tying the braid in place. 

“That should hold,” Ingun mused, more to herself than anyone else. She uncorked a bottle, pouring the golden liquid from within into her palms and slowly, meticulously rubbing it into Nadine’s skin--starting at her shoulders and back, curving around to work the oil into her breasts and stomach. 

“Up on the table, so I can do the rest.”

Nadine blushed, rushing to comply in a way usually only reserved for someone she’d call Mistress. Her feet dangled from the plinth, toes wiggling with nervous anticipation. 

“Open.” Ingun pried her legs apart with a cold, detached indifference that had no right being as arousing as it was. Her hands worked upwards, steady and methodical, her expression neutral as she massaged the oil into some extremely intimate places.

It was utterly dehumanising, the way she was being handled, like livestock; Ingun tending to her with a purely professional touch, and Gods, this was embarrassing, how flustered she was getting, even after all these weeks—

“Turn around. Hands and knees.”

Nadine bit back a whimper, praying her arousal wouldn’t be as obvious as it seemed. An oiled hand ran across her cunt, brushing up and in between her slick labia, and fuck, was there really a need for her to be so close to—

“Someone’s eager.”

Heat flared across Nadine’s skin, white-hot and furious. She swallowed, somehow both mortified and spectacularly turned on. Ingun’s fingers continued to move, stroking slow circles across her clit before withdrawing with one last, slow drag across her mound.

“Just trying to be as thorough as possible, Nadine.”

Of course you fucking are, Nadine wanted to respond, but she couldn’t, because the sound of her own name from Ingun’s lips rang in her ears like sweet temple bells. The cold, sharp sing of Ingun’s dagger replaced her fingers, lightly dragging across her mound as it shaved her clean, and Nadine thought she could come from that alone; the chilling bite of it, the danger in the background like a sinister murmur. 

“Looking forward to this evening, Nadine?” Ingun asked as she prised open her buttocks, scraping her dagger along the inside in a way that made her want to squirm. 

“Mhm— aah! ”

Ingun let out something resembling a chuckle. “Clearly.” The knife moved slowly, carefully, up over somewhere incredibly intimate. “If you’re this worked up now, I can’t wait to see how desperate you get when Nazir sees to you.”

“Nazir?” Nadine had to fight to not turn around, not make any sudden moves with a dagger placed snug against her arse. “That’s who I’m playing with this evening?” Excitement shot through her, overriding her fear. Finally, after weeks, it was happening.

“Forget I just said that.” 

“Oh?” Nadine grinned, wicked. “Were you not supposed to tell me?”

Ingun leaned down, lips ghosting Nadine’s ear. “Remember who’s holding the knife right now, Nadine,” she whispered, words equally as sharp and dangerous as the weapon she wielded. “Remember who’s at the other end.” Her breath bloomed hot across Nadine’s skin and she whimpered, feeling herself give, feeling herself become soft and pliant and obedient—

“All done,” Ingun said cheerfully, withdrawing her dagger and giving Nadine a light pat on the arse. “Shall we return to the Sanctum?”

Dinner had been excruciating. Nadine had felt like every eye had been fixed on her, her arousal painfully obvious to anyone looking. It didn’t help that Ingun would occasionally make a sly remark or give Nadine meaningful looks across the table, eyes glinting. As dinner ended, each person departing to go their own separate ways, Ingun grabbed Nadine’s wrist and led her down the stairs to the Sanctum arena with a satisfied smile.

“Your entertainment for the evening,” she said, displaying Nadine like a prize. Nazir raised one brow, dark eyes assessing them both. The gold ring in his beard glinted in the dim light.

“You’ve presented her well,” he said, the corners of his mouth curling into something that wasn’t quite a smile. “Although, was it really necessary to torture the girl through dinner? Thought you knew better than to play with your food.”

Ingun smirked. “Sorry, Sir. It was just too fun watching her get all flustered and worked up.”

“And whose job is that?”

The smile fell from Ingun’s face. “Yours, Sir.” 

“Good.” Nazir gripped Ingun’s chin. “The slut does remember.” The words tripped off his tongue, sharp and venomous. Nadine winced, but Ingun’s expression remained cool, impassive. “Tell me, what is your job?”

“To serve you, Sir.”

Nazir tilted Ingun’s head upward. “Did you manage to keep who Nadine would be spending her evening with a secret?” 

“Of course,” Ingun replied, her gaze never leaving Nazir’s. Calm and confident, and for a moment Nadine almost believed her. 

“You wouldn’t lie to me,” Nazir mused. “Not when you know the consequences.” Nadine could see Ingun’s facade start to crack—the curl of her fingers, the wiggle of her toes, all presumably tells Nazir had also learned to pick up on. Nazir turned to Nadine. “Nadine, tell me,” he said, voice dangerously soft, “did Ingun happen to let anything slip?”

Nadine swallowed, looking at Nazir in wide-eyed terror, his beetle-black eyes assessing her reaction. Looked to Ingun, then back at Nazir, trying not to shift nervously. “I—”

“Before you answer.” He moved into her space, cupping her chin. Gently, but still firmly enough to let her know she was his. “You should know that lying would be an extremely unwise thing to do. And I can tell.” His eyes pierced into her. “On the other hand, if you tell me the truth, I can promise you you’ll be very glad you did.”

Nadine’s gaze fell. There had never been a question she had wanted to answer less.

“So, I’ll ask you again, Nadine. Did Ingun tell you?”

She bit her lip, looked up at Nazir. “Yes, Sir.”

A predatory smile spread over his face, teeth gleaming against the dark of his skin and beard. “Your honesty will be rewarded, my girl.” He looked over to Ingun, letting the smile linger, eyes narrowing. “And your dishonesty will be attended to accordingly.”

Nazir walked over to a nearby table, looking over his tools, eventually picking up a sharp dagger and a gnarled root. “Ingun, over on the bench.” He peeled the skin, carving it into something long and tapered. The unmistakable zing of ginger filled Nadine’s nostrils. “You know what the consequences are, and yet you still disobeyed. When are you going to learn?”

Something like a whimper came from Ingun as she laid face-down on the bench, and it occurred to Nadine that she’d never seen the woman like this: vulnerable, fearful. It sent a spike of trepidation through her own veins. Nazir ignored her, washing his hands in the basin with uncomfortable calmness.

“Shall we show Nadine what happens to those who lie?”

Ingun clung to the sides of the bench. “Yes, Sir.”

He spread her cheeks apart, slowly inching the ginger into her arsehole. Once it was in, he grabbed her buttock in his hand and kneaded it in long, slow circles until she started to squirm. 

“Ginger, when used like this, has two effects,” Nazir explained, letting go of her arse. He walked over to his rack of tools, looking them over before picking out his cane. “First of all—obviously—a burning sensation, especially when the recipient clenches around it. It’s a slow burn, but when it kicks in, it’s deadly. Isn’t that right, Ingun?” 

Ingun whined, squirming slightly against the bench. 

“It hasn’t properly taken effect yet, of course. This is just the anticipation. When it does kick in, two things will happen. First, you’ll hear the noises, see the pain.” He turned to Nadine, smiling dangerously. “Second... if you thought this one was desperate now, wait until you see her in ten minutes.”

Nadine bit her lip. Ingun was starting to writhe against the bench more vigorously now, her whines shifting into something more pained, like a wounded animal.

“Oh good, it’s beginning.” Nazir grinned. “Time for the next part.”

The harsh whoosh of the cane rang out as Nazir swung it experimentally, his grin widening at the way Ingun’s buttocks clenched in anticipation and the resulting pain it wrought.

“Haven’t even struck you yet and you’re breaking, girl.” His tone was hard, all menace. A chill ran down Nadine’s spine. “Think you’re going to last through twenty of these?”

Ingun growled. “Watch me.”

The cane struck her, a red welt forming across her arse in its wake. She keened, control already beginning to slip. “You forget your place.” Nazir struck her again, the next mark crossing over the previous one, scarlet and angry against the pale cream of her skin. “Teasing, lying, answering back—” The next blow hit harder, Ingun’s hiss of pain sounding more anguished than the ones before. She clung to the bench, knuckles whitening. “I trained you better than this.” 

The next cluster of strikes landed against Ingun’s thighs, criss-crossing the pale, tender flesh just below her buttocks. Nadine could see each clench, each shudder of pain that followed, each writhe as Ingun breathed through the feeling. That didn’t catch her off-guard, nor did the agonised howls or curses that came when the caning reached double figures. What did surprise her was the maniacal laughter, starting slowly and softly at first, bubbling up from under the surface like the contents of her alembic. With every strike, it grew stronger, more unhinged, somewhere between ecstasy and insanity. 

“Ingun. Tell me how you’re doing.”

Another stuttered giggle came from her. “Fine, Sir.”

“Good girl.” He let the cane fall down again before looking over at Nadine. “Always sensible to check in. Sometimes laughter means she’s near her breaking point, but usually it’s just an involuntary tic. Gods know I’ve tried to beat it out of her.” He struck her again, harder this time, as if to drive the point home. Ingun panted, drooling onto the leather of the bench, body shimmering with sweat. 

By the time Ingun reached twenty, she was an incoherent mess, arse lined with angry red welts and cunt dripping onto the worn leather underneath. Nazir hadn’t been wrong about that. Her hair fanned around her head as she rolled over, dishevelled and dazed, wearing that glassy expression Nadine had come to know so well. 

“Clean up your mess,” Nazir said, pointing to the bench. “Then we can see to the rest.”

Ingun complied eagerly, licking it clean with painstaking thoroughness. Nadine throbbed at the sight; Ingun’s arse in the air, still plugged and glowing from her punishment, cunt begging to be eaten—

“That’s enough.” Nazir beckoned Ingun over, wrapping his arm around her and toying with the ring in her collar. “You took your punishment well, and you deserve to be rewarded. I was thinking your new friend here—” something about the way Nazir said the word “friend” made Nadine feel very, very uneasy— “could kiss your wounds better. How does that sound?”

If it had sounded appealing to Nadine, it must have sounded divine to Ingun. She sighed, eyes glazing over as her knees gave slightly. “Yes Sir, please.”

“Back onto the bench, then.”

Ingun obeyed, and Nazir reached down and retrieved the root from inside her in one gentle, twisting pull, fingers digging into the tender flesh of her arse. Her body slumped, sighing with relief as the source of pain was extracted.

Nazir looked to Nadine. “Go on, girl,” he said, gesturing towards Ingun. “Kiss her better. Show her how well she performed for her Master.”

Nadine kneeled between Ingun’s legs, the floor cold and hard under her. The intoxicating scent of Ingun’s sex mingled with the zing of ginger still present. Tentatively, she ran a hand along the inside of her thigh, just shy of where one of the nastier welts lay. Careful, gentle, reverent. Ingun’s legs buckled at the contact, a low moan coming from her as she gripped the bench.

“You did so well, Ingun,” Nadine whispered, kissing the red areas that bloomed across her skin, intense heat radiating underneath her lips. “So, so well. Took all twenty without stopping.” She kissed further up, mouth hungrily seeking every inch of skin she could find, the paint Ingun had daubed on her lips leaving red reminders in her wake. “You looked so delicious when you were being punished, do you know that?” Her next kiss was messier, tongue trailing along the apex of her thighs, tasting the salty-strong essence of her—

“Turn her around, Nadine.” Nazir smirked. “Unless you want a face full of ginger. I wouldn’t recommend it.”

Nadine blushed, realising Nazir had been watching every second. She throbbed at the thought—him witnessing her tasting and exploring Ingun, unravelling her wholly with only her tongue. Easing herself to her feet, she gripped Ingun’s hip, murmuring in her ear.

“Lie on the bench for me, please?”

Ingun turned around, face flushed and dazed, eyeing Nadine with a look that was all heat. She lay on the bench, legs spread in invitation, something silver glinting between her lips.

“Is… is that—?”

“Ah, I see you’ve noticed Ingun’s secret adornment.” Nazir leaned into Nadine, conspiratorially. “Try giving it a light tug with your teeth. She likes that.”

Nadine tried her best to keep the surprise from her face, but was certain she’d failed. She’d thought getting a tattoo had been brave, but that was nothing compared to what Ingun had done. Then again, Ingun seemed to thrive on pain. She hadn’t even counted her canings. Nadine had been acutely aware of each one, as she was every time she was getting punished; she enjoyed it, but it was an exercise in endurance. Ingun seemed to go into a trance, relishing each strike, riding out the pain as it morphed from something ugly and raw to something sublime. She climbed onto the bench below Ingun, her hands snaking their way up her thighs and just stopping at the warm, wet parting of her cunt.

Gods, her mouth was watering. She’d planned on saying something before eating Ingun’s cunt, but she didn’t trust herself not to drool doing so, didn’t even trust herself to form words. So she just descended on her instead, tongue tracing across every part and fold, slickness salty and fluid against her tongue. Her mouth sucked fervently at the swollen flesh as she devoured her, every action making her tremble in her hands, and fuck, it was so good, so messy, she could feel wetness and saliva trailing down her chin—

“Tell me how she tastes, Nadine.”

Reluctantly, Nadine pulled away from Ingun to answer the question. “Amazing, Sir.” She writhed, trying not to grind desperately against the bench. “Please, can I—”

“Oh yes, please continue.” A sardonic grin played across Nazir’s lips. “Ingun knows she’s not to come, but that won’t stop you, will it?”

Sweet Sanguine. Nadine looked up at Ingun, her expression somewhere between blissful and agonised. 

“Please, Nadine,” Ingun whimpered, thin and hoarse and needy, and Gods, the word sounded so sweet coming from her mouth, a woman Nadine never thought would beg, would lose control, and now she was here, wanting, for her —

She took Ingun back in her mouth, tongue lapping eagerly against her slick lips, rolling across the ring that adorned her clit. Ingun squirmed underneath, the noises she made in response downright filthy, and Nadine couldn’t help but do it again, tracing long, slow strokes across her as she sucked gently, drawing gasps and moans from her blood-red lips.

“Fuck, please, no—” Ingun’s voice was lust-soaked, desperate, addictive. “I’m going to—fuck, I’m so close, please, I can’t—”

Nazir’s hand rested on Nadine’s head. “Don’t you dare stop.” He pushed her in further, nose pressing into the crest of her lips. “She has to learn to control herself.”

“Nadine, please stop!”

Nadine’s mouth left her cunt, and Ingun’s body shook and shivered in her absence, hands clinging listlessly to her own body as if trying to claw back some semblance of control.

“I told you,” Nazir growled, running Nadine’s braid through his fingers, “not to stop.” He curled it in his hand, not pulling or tugging, but reminding her that he could. “Why did you disobey?”

Nadine shivered, paralysed by fear. “I—” Sweat cooled rapidly on her skin. “Ingun asked me to, I didn’t want—”

Nazir swatted her arse, stinging and quick; a reminder of what happened to those who opposed. “And how do those who really want to stop ask properly?”

“By using their safeword, Sir.”

“That’s right. So I’ll ask you again—why did you stop?”

Nadine’s breath hitched. “I—I don’t know, I—”

“It isn’t important. What is important is that you ignored my command. Ingun, get up, it’s Nadine’s turn on the bench.” He smiled, all sharp, white teeth. “Fetch me some rope, and the oil, and the other thing. You know the one.”

Ingun complied, nodding with a look that confirmed she did in fact know what “the other thing” was. Eager not to anger Nazir further, Nadine crawled onto the bench, awaiting her punishment. Please, Gods, just please don’t let it be the ginger.

Why Ingun had insisted on braiding Nadine’s hair soon became obvious as Nazir wove a length of rope into and around it, fastening it with a practiced hand. She wasn’t sure why he needed to bind her hair, but she supposed it would soon become apparent. Binding her hands behind her back made more sense, which he did slowly and methodically, checking occasionally to make sure there was enough give.

“The other thing” turned out not to be ginger, thankfully. What it turned out to be was something cool and round that pressed into her arse, slick with oil, with something long and thin snaking its way out of her and resting gently on her back. Almost like—

Oh. Oh no.

Nadine felt the ball of the hook move inside her as Nazir looped the rope through the other end, manipulating it until he was satisfied and she was writhing just to get in a position that was halfway comfortable.

“Enjoying yourself, girl?” Nazir gave the rope a gentle tug. Nadine flinched. “Trust me, after a while, you’ll be… hooked.”

Nadine groaned, not sure if it was at the sensation or the pun, straining against her bonds. Her hands balled into fists, curling and uncurling. Waiting.  

“Since you’ve been so honest this evening, perhaps I should return the favour.” Fronds trailed across her thighs, her cunt, her arse. “This isn’t punishment. Not even close. If I really, really wanted to punish you? Believe me, you’d know. Punishment is my business.” The whoosh of the flogger rang out, and Nadine clenched in anticipation, the ball of the hook twisting inside her further. “No, I’m doing this because you want this. Want to be hurt, want me to hurt you. Don’t you? And I want to make you hurt, too. Want to whip and beat and flay you until you beg me to stop.”

Fuck. She leaned against the bench, limbs burning with effort, face pressing against the upholstery as her nostrils filled with the musky, intoxicating, worn scent of leather. The scent of pain and pleasure, punishment and reward. And really, that was the crux of everything, wasn’t it? The whole scene, each little detail. They were one and the same. Even if it hurt, she wanted it. Especially if it hurt, she wanted it. She knew it. Nazir definitely knew it. Most people just hadn’t been so bold as to lay it bare.

The first strike finally rained down, a multitude of little leather tongues leaving their bite in unison. Just hard enough to make her body twist and arch, driving the hook somewhere that made her cry out. That was the real torture, that loss of control, restricted movement unlike any other bondage she’d known. She had the freedom to move at least some parts of her; she had the knowledge to know that doing so would be an unwise choice. Relaying this information to her body proved difficult—something Nazir exploited, whipping her over and over until her limbs burned and her arse ached and every inch of her twitched with concentrated restraint.

“Look, Ingun. She’s almost as desperate as you are.” 

Another strike hit her, then another, tails whipping against her arse and thighs with increasing force, heat radiating to something vivid and delicious and immense. Gods, she really did want this. More, harder, deeper. Wanted all of it, all the time, every last lash. Wanted to be bound and made to beg, stripped of all power and pretence. Mewling and pathetic, slick dripping down her thighs.

The flogging stopped, leather tracing softly across her arse with the final blow, and she ached with how frustrated she was; body taut, cunt begging for some semblance of friction, attention. Her whole body seemed to vibrate with it, this intangible need that she could almost taste on her tongue, feel on her fingertips like silk— please, just do something, hit me again, make me feel —

“Fun to watch her lose control, Sir,” Ingun said, mellow and laconic. “Liked it when I groped her earlier. When I threatened her.” She hummed contentedly. “Likes knives, I think.”

“And we know she definitely likes canes,” Nazir said, blurring into the periphery of Nadine’s vision, hand fisting in Ingun’s braid. “A girl after your own heart, isn’t she?”

“Mmm, Sir.”

Nazir’s footsteps faded, then returned, a new implement scraping across the floor in their wake. She felt it press lightly against her, testing; tapping softly against her legs and thighs, working its way up to where she was most sensitive. Letting her sweat, pant, suspense filling her like a pitcher full of water, threatening to spill over the edge at any moment. 

“Please.” Nadine’s voice came out in a whisper, cheek pressed against the cushioned leather. “Please, please, please—”

It came down in one harsh crack, waves of pain bursting furious through Nadine’s body as she squeezed and tensed. She cried out, feeling the line sear across her arse. Another struck down to join it, crossing over where the first had been, and she wailed again, head lolling and body contorting in a way that pushed the hook in deeper and made stars swim in her vision.

“Fuck.” The word came out in a laboured gasp, and Nadine struggled to work through the pain, any methods of control she had taken from her with her arms bound behind her back and body forced to hold itself in its precarious position. 

The next few strikes were softer, more restrained, as if Nazir could sense how close to breaking Nadine was. Her body was relieved for the respite, but inside bitter frustration brewed, tears beginning to sting her eyes. How dare he hold back, like I can’t take it, like I’m delicate and fragile and so easily breakable —

“More.” It came out as a growl, raw-edged and feral. 

Nazir stilled, his cane resting against her arse. It was a quiet she felt more than heard. “Don’t think I heard you properly, girl.” His voice was low, so quiet she could barely hear it over the thrum of blood in her ears. “What did you say?”

She was beyond fear now, beyond reason. Only answered to herself, and her own limitations, and she’d be damned if anyone else was going to dictate that. “I said I want more, Sir.” She could feel the ire growing in her chest, stubborn, refusing to be ignored. “So stop holding back and give it to me.”

A sharp inhale cut into the silence. “Spirited,” he said, something like amusement in his voice. His finger looped underneath the rope, pulling it taut until Nadine squirmed. “And completely, utterly foolish. But if you want more, who am I to deny you?”

The next blow struck down, hard, scoring her skin like a brand. Her back arched, myriad sensations all warring inside her for their attention, but before she could humour any of them another line cut across her backside, the pain intensifying; a guttural wail rent itself from her throat.

“Had enough yet?”

Nadine lay against the bench, breathing ragged. Waves of pain pulsed through her. “I— fuck , I—”

Nazir chuckled. “No, I don’t think you have,” he said, laying another searing stripe across her arse. “I think if you had, you would remember how to tell me, wouldn’t you?” And another, and another, until Nadine was panting and shaking, tears running down her face in a deluge—

“Nirnroot!” The word came out as a brittle shriek. “Please, Sir, I’m sorry—” Her toes curled. She hissed through her teeth. “Fuck, please, I’ve had enough.”

Nazir stroked her back, her hair, let her breathe through the pain still thrumming violently through her body. “Well done, girl.” His voice was softer now, devoid of some of the edge that usually tempered it. “Your resilience is growing.” He gave the ropes a quick tug. “Still okay with being bound? How do your arms feel?”

Oh. Arms. Nadine hadn’t thought about them in a while. She gave them a stretch, curling her fingers. “They’re fine, Sir.”

“Good.” The dark edge returned, laced with danger. “You looked so, so pretty bound up and hooked while I beat you, so maybe I’ll just keep you like this for a while.” His hands traced along her hot, tender arse, fingers pressing into the skin as he spread her wide, and Nadine tried not to wince at the sting. “Such a good, pliable position for me to fuck you in.” A finger traced along her slick cunt, making her jerk involuntarily, hook twisting uncomfortably inside her. Nazir grabbed her hips, pulling her closer into him, cock pressing against her entrance. 

“Please,” Nadine moaned, trying to back into him. “Use me.”

Nazir’s thumb circled across the small of her back. “Is that all you want, girl?” His nails scored her sides, slowly, deliberately. “For me to take my fill?” Pushed in, cock stretching Nadine wide until it bottomed out, Nazir’s hips flush with her searing arse. “Even if it leaves you breathless, begging, unfulfilled?”

Nadine whimpered, cunt throbbing around Nazir’s length. “If that’s what pleases you, Sir.”

“Didn’t ask what you thought I wanted,” Nazir said, picking up the pace. “I asked what it was you wanted. And what I want,” he purred, “is for you to tell me the truth, Nadine.”

The way he spoke, touched, fucked, told her that he knew exactly what it was she wanted—he just wanted to hear her say it out loud. Every single thing she knew, every single line of protocol she thought she’d gleaned over the weeks Nazir had pulled from under her feet, leaving her with only pure, naked honesty in its place. And that was the terrifying part. Without the veneer of charm, she truly was giving up her last vestige of control—left only to state her intentions, plain and simple, potentially to have them rejected.

She took a breath. “I want to come, Sir.” Heat crept across her already flushed face, and she wondered if she’d ever stop finding depth to her embarrassment. 

“There we go,” Nazir said, sounding entirely too pleased with himself. “Honesty sounds much better.” He drove slowly into Nadine, once, twice more, before pulling out, leaving her whining and trembling against the bench. Surely he wouldn’t be this cruel , she thought, to make me lay myself bare and then leave me aching and throbbing and wanting.

She looked up to see those dark, dangerous eyes of his assessing her hungrily, and realised of course he fucking would, and oh, didn’t that make it even more tantalising, being offered, being denied?

“You want to come so badly, hmm?” His words were sharp, like Nadine could cut herself on them if she made the wrong move. “Well, now you’re going to have to show me.” He waved his hand, gesturing Ingun to his side. “Help her up.”

Ingun gripped her sides, easing her to her feet. It soon became apparent exactly how Nadine was intended to pleasure herself when Ingun coaxed her to her knees in front of Nazir, his foot poised on a small box, elevated slightly off the ground. The leather boots he wore were pitch-black, snaking up to wrap around his muscular calves, and Nadine had never given much thought as to why they were so well-kept until now.

She felt like she was on fire; could barely lift her head to look at Nazir, never mind speak. Ingun kneeled on the other side of her, Nazir’s fist in her hair as she took his cock in her mouth, inch by inch, dictating a slow and steady pace.

Nazir’s finger cupped under Nadine’s chin, his eyes boring into hers. “You want to come?” He pushed Ingun’s head further down, until her nose was touching the coarse hairs that dusted his crotch. “Tell me how.”

“I—” Her voice felt like grit in her mouth, hoarse and rough. “Please, let me grind myself against your boot.” 

A wolfish smile stretched across Nazir’s face. “Are you really so desperate you’d degrade yourself in such a manner?” He chuckled. “Go on then, girl. Get yourself off.”

Those words were all it took for Nadine to grind herself against Nazir’s boot, cunt gliding against leather, the firmness and friction of it obscenely gorgeous. She didn’t even care about the hook any more, the way it tugged and rubbed and twisted in awkward ways, just this side of uncomfortable. It was all too good, it had no fucking right being this good, but oh gods, she never wanted it to stop. Her head fell against Nazir’s thigh as she rutted, crazed and sweat-soaked and euphoric. Vulgar noises echoed from beside her: Ingun being used, Nazir’s cock breaching her throat as he ruthlessly claimed his pleasure. 

“Better hope you can beat me,” Nazir growled, pulling Ingun’s mouth off his cock before sliding back in.

The sound Ingun made was something raw and carnal, utterly debased, and it was enough to tip Nadine over the edge, pleasure ripping through her in great, crashing torrents that threatened to drown her. It was all-encompassing and grotesque, left her breathless and broken, and she lolled against Nazir as her whole body swelled with it. It was like being flogged and flayed all over again—utterly overwhelming, taking her to her limits, except now she was spilling over, shuddering with each aftershock as she soaked her Master’s boot with her release.

She couldn’t stop. Not when she felt Nazir thrust, fingers winding tighter in Ingun’s hair, her breathing laboured as she accommodated him, and fuck, she wished she was the one being used, lips stretched around his thick cock as he fucked her mouth—

A low, guttural noise left Nazir, hips stuttering as he came, pulling his still-spurting cock from Ingun’s mouth. Her clever little tongue laved over it, slicked pearly-white, satisfied moans escaping her as she attended to Nazir, and it was enough to tip Nadine over the edge once more, every nerve in her body singing and screaming in pain-pleasure.

“Tease,” Ingun said, cum and saliva slicking her face, and then her lips were on Nadine’s, Nazir’s pleasure still fresh on her tongue. Another orgasm spiked through her in spite of herself, still rocking spasmodically as they kissed, bodies pressed against each other. Ingun’s arms pulled her closer, holding her upright, and Nadine melted into the contact, her world reduced to the feel of Ingun’s mouth against hers, heady and intoxicating.  

“If you’re both done,” Nazir said, boot pressing into Nadine in a way that drew the breath from her, “there’s a mess that needs to be cleaned up.” He stepped back, pulling his foot from under Nadine, leather smeared with her wetness, shiny and slick against the black of it. “Ingun, maybe you could help Nadine reach, hmm?”

Ingun smiled, dreamlike. “With pleasure, Sir.” She gripped Nadine’s shoulders, easing her down until her face was pressed halfway between the stone floor and her Master’s boot. Her tongue nudged out, tentatively tracing the wet leather, and she shuddered a little at the bitter taste. She licked again, savouring the sensation of her tongue rolling against the firm surface, sinking slowly into the depth of submission. Every lick was meditative, deliberate, reverent in a way she felt down deep in her bones. She didn’t think she’d ever been so intent on cleaning anything in her life, but this was different—an act so subservient, so vulnerable, that it made her head swim. An act to show her gratitude for everything she’d been given, to show how unwavering her submission was—

“Much better.” 

Nadine looked at the boot. It demonstrably wasn’t, now streaked with saliva rather than cum, but she supposed it was more about the sentiment. Especially when Ingun eased her back up, Nazir smiling down at her with a strange kind of pride on his face. 

“Good to know you enjoy licking my boot as much as you enjoy licking Ingun’s cunt.” He bent down, drawing the dagger strapped to his thigh. “Maybe I’ll let you do it again, as long as you behave yourself.”

The blade glinted in the light, razor-sharp, and Nadine felt a surge of… something run through her. Some raw, primal rush, danger and fear and desire all rolled into one. She imagined the chill of it pressing against her neck, her breast, its holder commanding her to submit to their whims. Her breath quickened. 

Nazir grinned, sharp and wide. “I think Ingun was right about you liking knives.” He reached around, cutting through her rope binds with a few short, sawing cuts, and she leaned into him, barely suppressing a gasp. “And as alluring an idea as that is… I think it’s one best left for another day.” 

The ropes fell from Nadine’s wrists, arms now free and mobile again. She moved them tentatively, still anchoring herself against Nazir as he eased out the hook, the absence of it now feeling strangely foreign. Under the soft glow of sensation, her body felt bruised and sore and strained, but mostly it just felt lost. Not quite as severely as last week, which the others had taken the time to explain to her—a drop, it’s natural, but please let us take care of you and take care of yourself for the next few days—but still a little detached, drifting. It took some getting used to.

She let herself be led to somewhere warm and soft and private, Nazir and Ingun at either side of her, keeping her aloft until she sank into the plush multitude of furs that covered the bed, fingers and toes curling into the softness of it. Ingun climbed onto the bed next to her, the mattress sinking slightly beneath their combined weight. 

“Going to fetch something for you both to eat and drink,” Nazir said, fingers curling around the door handle. “I can trust you both to keep each other company, yes?”

Nadine nodded, already moving to snake her arm around Ingun’s waist, afterglow-soft and tactile. Ingun turned around, shrugging the motion off.

“I—I’m not—” she frowned. “I don’t really like to cuddle, afterwards. Not my thing.” Nadine’s hurt must have been apparent, because her brow furrowed, expression softening. “I know you do. I’m just—” she sighed. “Not really in my repertoire. I’ve tried it, and I didn’t care for it. I can just about do hand holding. Or I can take down your hair, if you’d like.”

The effort she was extending was so obvious that Nadine was touched, if a little taken aback at her evident dislike for contact. “I’d like that.”

Ingun was surprisingly much more gentle at unbraiding hair than she was at braiding it, combing her fingers through with practiced care. Perhaps she thought she’d been through enough pain already. Perhaps she just eased up when she was in a submissive space. Nadine wasn’t sure what had brought out her softer side, but she liked it; the way her nails scratched lightly against her scalp, fingertips running through each section with an appraising sort of touch, as if each strand was gold. It was even lovelier returning the favour; hearing her hum and purr happily as Nadine eased out each knot, fingers passing through her ebony locks with the same gentle reverence she’d shown Nazir. 

By the time he returned they were side by side, fingers entwined and discussing plant life, Ingun’s hand resting on Nadine’s tattoo. Nazir smiled, and this time it was warm and genuine, eyes shining with delight. “I see you’re both getting along.” Plumes of steam rose from the tray he carried. “I brought tea. Cakes, too. Try to save one for me.”

Nadine smiled, melting into the comfort of honey-sweetened canis root tea and cakes studded with dates. She and Ingun ate and drank, feeding morsels to Nazir as he sipped from his own mug, the three curled up in a nest of furs and blankets and pillows. A bath awaited when she was ready, along with salve and caresses and, once she’d rested some, promises of further pain and pleasure if she so desired. Whole days of it, stretching on, as long as she wanted. Right now, though, she wanted this and this alone. She sipped her tea, letting the beverage warm her through, nestling into the crook of Nazir’s arm.

Chapter Text

It had been a gruelling few weeks.

Where work had been thin on the ground before, it began to spring up faster than Nadine could accept or complete. Led her from Whiterun to Windhelm, then onto Riften, picking up odd jobs along the way. By the time she arrived in the Rift, her coinpurse bulging and her muscles aching, she was ready to take a well-earned rest.

Was ready, until she’d started talking to Mjoll in the Bee and Barb, and heard her lament her missing sword. Like losing a part of myself, she’d said, and before Nadine could stop to consider things she’d accepted the job and asked Marcurio if he wouldn’t mind helping her retrieve it.

Foolishly, she’d considered it doable—this wasn’t her first venture into a Dwemer ruin, after all, and she had a more than capable companion to accompany her. It wasn’t until they were cornered by a Centurion, steam hissing viciously through its vents as it swung its solid arms in their direction, that the gravity of the situation dawned on her. A woman named Mjoll the Lioness, who was built like a brick shithouse and wielded a battleaxe like it weighed nothing, had entered here and barely made it out alive. What had made Nadine think she and Marcurio would fare any better?

They hadn’t been given any time to dwell on it, and the last thing Nadine remembered was grasping for Grimsever and running , lungs and limbs burning, pleasepleaseplease echoing in her head before something cold and hard and heavy hit her. She’d come to just outside Mzinchaleft, one bloodied hand clinging to Marcurio’s as the other gripped Grimsever’s handle, and her brief elation at being alive and in the possession of Mjoll’s sword dissipated when she saw Marcurio’s face. He was decidedly not happy, expression set somewhere between terrified and livid. Had given her an earful about recklessness, and risk assessment, and not paying her more than capable but still mortal friend to go on a suicide mission with her, after which he patched up the worst of her wounds and took her to the nearest village so they could call upon their healer. And then gave the same speech again, but quite a bit more impassioned, having been fuelled by a fair amount of mead.

All in all, it had been one of Nadine’s more regrettable jobs, and she made the journey back to Riften alone, bruised and fragile and ready to put this whole chapter behind her.

As the stark white landscape began to give way to the familiar warmth of the Rift, Nadine relaxed some. Despite its sordid reputation, it was one of her favourite cities—the bustle of trade from the marketplace to the canals, the perennial autumnal foliage, its red-orange-brown dancing like flames in a hearth while the scents of earth and honey and freshwater fish all vied for her attention. It should have been repulsive, distracting, but now it was entirely too familiar to be any of those things.

When she entered the city proper, the day had already begun—merchants at their stalls, selling their wares as the townsfolk milled around. A familiar voice cut through the market rabble, and Nadine’s heart leapt—Brynjolf, selling whatever the Guild had concocted this week. It had been Troll Fat Salve last time— nothing more than the unusable remnants of the troll fat Ingun used for alchemy, combined with horker lard, he had told her with a conspiratorial wink.

“Nadine?”

That was a different voice, but no less familiar. Strong, but soft, with a distinctly Nordic lilt.

“Mjoll!” Nadine spun around, having to physically restrain herself from hugging the woman. “Just who I was looking for. I have something for you!”

Mjoll’s eyes widened. “Truly?” Her brows furrowed, looking at Nadine with an intensity she’d never seen before. “How… did you… are you alright?”

Nadine chose to sidestep that particular question, instead retrieving Mjoll’s sword from her pack. “Here it is. I can understand why you’d want it back.”

When Nadine returned Mjoll’s sword to her, she wasn’t sure what to expect. Thanks, payment—the promise of protection, maybe. What she hadn’t expected was Mjoll’s actual reaction—an expression akin to a mother being reunited with her child, tears welling in her eyes before spilling over and carving out valleys in her warpaint.

“I… I don’t know how to thank you for this,” Mjoll eventually said, and really, Nadine needn’t have worried about embracing Mjoll since the woman now took her in her arms, squeezing tightly enough to wind her. “I can’t believe you brought her back.”

“Me either,” Nadine choked out, now crying herself, the culmination of the last few days’ events crashing over her in a wave, and for a while she and Mjoll simply clung to each other, riding out the wave of emotion together.

A laugh escaped Mjoll, something disbelieving and euphoric in it, before she pulled away and wiped her eyes. “I… it still…” she looked up to the sky, the morning sun illuminating her face. “I’m not sure where to begin thanking you for what you’ve done, but you look exhausted. Why don’t we go get something to eat?”

As far as thank yous went, food was a fantastic way to begin for Nadine. Few things settled her like a warm meal, and when they entered the Bee and Barb, taking a seat near the fire, Nadine sunk into her chair and finally, blessedly relaxed. Being back somewhere familiar—somewhere welcoming—was a much-needed comfort, as was the hearty bowl of beef stew and crusty bread Keerava brought over.

She and Mjoll chatted easily as they ate, Nadine telling the woman a softer rendition of what actually happened. She didn’t need Mjoll fretting over her or feeling guilty—after all, she’d chosen to take on the contract.

“So,” Mjoll said, draining her tankard, “what’s next for you?”

“A long rest,” Nadine laughed, lounging back in her chair. “Bloody exhausted. Might visit some friends.”

Mjoll smiled. “You’ve more than earned it.” She stretched, standing up. “I’ve got to get going, but please, stay here as long as you want. I’ve already paid Keerava for a room, and—” she retrieved a bulging purse of gold from her hip, placing it on the table, “—this is for returning Grimsever. It doesn’t begin to pay back your kindness, but I hope it at least helps you on your journey.”

Nadine stared in disbelief at the sizable pouch in front of her. If she had to guess, it was enough to pay for comfortable room and board for at least the next two months. “It absolutely does. Help and pay back the kindness, I mean.”

“I’m glad.” She gave Nadine one last hug, softer this time. “Be sure not to wear yourself too thin, now. Sharpen a blade too much, you’ll end up with a broken blade.” Smiled kindly, and picked back up her battleaxe, strapping it onto her back. “Better get going. City isn’t going to clean up itself.”

Nadine took a sip of her wine, the breeze wafting into the tavern as Mjoll left. Briefly, she wondered if the Lioness would be so kind if she knew of the kind of activities she partook in, the kind of people she associated with. Probably didn’t bear thinking about. She yawned, wide and all-consuming. Thinking in general wasn’t all that appealing at the moment. What she really needed, more than anything, was a restful sleep. It felt like it had been weeks since she’d had one.

Gathering her belongings, she approached the bar, where Keerava was scribbling something in her ledger. The remnants of two smashed barrels sat behind her. She sighed, quill scratching out something furiously.

“Food was divine as usual, Keerava,” Nadine said brightly, retrieving a few gold from her purse and setting it on the counter. “Good to be back. How have things been?”

Keerava looked up, expression weary. “Oh, you know. Another bar fight, another shakedown from the Guild. Business as usual in Riften.” Returned to her ledger, but Nadine didn’t miss the pointed, acidic note in her voice. “Sometimes I ask myself why I bother keeping the doors open.”

“Oh Gods, that’s terrible,” Nadine said, brows knitted in concern. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

“Somehow I doubt it.” The scratch of quill against parchment sounded sharper than usual. Tense. With a final flourish, Keerava set the quill down and turned her attention back to Nadine, something scrutinising in her gaze. “But let me offer you some free advice. If you’re going to be a do-gooder, you might want to think about where your loyalties really lie.”

The words were a slap to the face. “Excuse me?”

“Well, if you’re so committed to making Riften a better place,” Keerava said, standing up, “perhaps you shouldn’t be rubbing shoulders with the people who make it so terrible to begin with. You’re not stupid, you know as well as I do what Brynjolf really does around here.” She sighed, wiping her hands on her apron. “I can’t talk. I moved to this city knowing what a cesspit it was, knew the games I’d need to play. I’m the one who chooses to serve every scam artist and skooma peddler here just to try and make a half-honest septim.” Swept the coins from the counter into her apron pocket, the dull scrape of metal against wood somehow managing to sound accusatory. “But they’re not the ones that concern me. The people who worry me most are the ones with good intentions, who overlook the real evil sitting on their own front door.”

Nadine scrambled to counter Keerava’s accusations, but she found herself robbed of both the words and breath to do so.

“Something to think about, perhaps.” Keerava sat back down, returning to her ledger. “Now, if you don’t mind, I have work to do.”

All she could do was stand there, slack-jawed and speechless, humiliation burning her down to her bones. She struggled to think of a time where she’d felt so thoroughly dressed down. Honestly, she struggled to think at all. Independent of thought, her legs moved her towards the exit and through the door, the cold hitting her like a warhammer.

Shame and anger battled for precedence within Nadine, but in the end, anger won out. With the force and intent of a scorned atronach, she made a beeline for the marketplace.

Riften was starting to get busy, now; the sun high in the sky, taking the worst out of the winter chill. Even over the rabble of the market, Brynjolf’s voice rang out clear and lilting— genuine falmer blood elixir, only twenty gold, a meagre price to pay to possess the strength of the great Talos himself! Before, she might have found such an outlandish claim amusing. Now, it stuck in her throat, bitter—for the first time she wondered how many people had fallen victim to his sales pitch, only to wind up twenty septims poorer and sorely disappointed.

“Long time no see, lass,” Brynjolf said as she approached, smiling wide. “When did you get back into town?”

“This morning.”

Brynjolf’s brows furrowed, and he looked at Nadine with concern. “Something happen while you were away?”

“Yes, actually,” Nadine said cooly. “The Bee and Barb got shook down by the Thieves Guild.”

“Well, aye. If you don’t pay your dues, that’s what happens.”

“Oh, come off it, Brynjolf,” Nadine snapped. “You really think bashing up the last of their inventory and taking what little they have is going to get the Guild paid any faster?”

A poorly suppressed sigh escaped Brynjolf, his shoulders tensing. “S’not really about that. It’s about the message it sends.” He ran his fingers through his hair. “Look, I get what I do isn’t the most noble way to make a living, but I thought you knew what my job entailed, Nadine.”

Embarrassment shot through Nadine; a sharp, ugly pang in her gut. She did her best to ignore it. “I thought it involved relieving a few wealthy nobles of items they didn’t need, not… this! ”

Brynjolf let out a noise of disbelief—not quite a laugh, but close enough to one to raise Nadine’s hackles. “If that’s all you think the Guild does, then you’re either not paying attention or you’ve got some damned selective hearing.” One by one, Brynjolf returned the bottles atop the stall’s counter to the storage space below, locking it shut before turning back to Nadine. “Who do you think is at the top of all of this, pulling the strings? Because it isn’t Mjoll or Aerin, or the benevolent Priestesses in Mara’s temple, or even Bolli, who thinks his charity pays off his moral debt for screwing Haelga behind his wife’s back. It’s someone with more money than either of us have ever seen, or probably will ever see. Someone who wouldn’t think twice about taking food from someone else’s mouth as long as it lined their own pockets.”

Nadine scowled back, defiant. “Then why on Nirn do you help them?”

Brynjolf’s jaw tensed. “Look, it’s… this is a complicated matter.” He gestured at the stall. “I’m shutting up shop for a bit. Let’s go for a walk so we can talk about this properly.”

Reluctantly, Nadine agreed, and they both made their way through the marketplace and along the walkways lining the canals. Silence hung between them, but for now Nadine was content to let it, tenuous and fragile. The rabble of the market slowly drifted away, replaced with the gentle swish of water and the distant shouts of the Fishery workers, and eventually even those sounds gave way to Nadine’s own thoughts.

Would Mjoll have been so kind if she knew she associated with members of the Thieves Guild? Would she even have trusted her?

Her own footsteps punctuated each thought; boots against wooden planks, solid and rhythmic. One after another, steady and continuous and unrelenting.

Had she really been so naive?

Worse still, had she just chosen to be?

Vivid autumn foliage danced in the periphery of her vision, and Nadine realised they’d made their way to the outskirts of Riften’s courtyard, close to where the city’s most prestigious homes nestled. They slowed to a stop outside the largest one.

“This,” Brynjolf said, gesturing towards the building, “is Black-Briar Manor. Obviously you’re well acquainted with one of its residents, and I’m assuming you’ve heard of the others through the grapevine.”

Nadine didn’t bother responding. Everyone who so much as set foot in Skyrim knew who Maven Black-Briar was.

“Have you ever noticed the symbols carved next to the door?”

“I have, actually,” Nadine said, looking down at the shape carved into the wooden beams. This one was a diamond, with two overlapping circles at each of its corners, but she’d seen other similar ones too. “I’ve seen a few.”

“Should hope so,” Brynjolf remarked. “Gods know I carved enough of the bastards.”

“What are they?”

“Delvin calls them Shadowmarks. They’re ways for the Guild—and other organisations—to communicate with each other.” He pointed toward the Shadowmark with his foot. “This one here means the premises in question are under either the Guild’s protection, or the Brotherhood’s—both, in this case.” He raised a brow. “So, just in case you haven’t already been told—it’s probably not a brilliant idea to cross Maven Black-Briar or any of the rest of her family.”

Realisation set in, sudden and sobering. Nadine was well aware how infamous Maven was within Riften—she wielded power and prestige the way most warriors wielded their weapons—but she’d never considered the possibility that she’d be the one pulling the Guild’s strings. Knowing now, it seemed painfully obvious, and another pang of humiliation socked her in the gut.

“Well,” she said, folding her arms over her chest, “now I feel horribly naive.”

Brynjolf’s expression, while sympathetic, didn’t give the impression that he disagreed with this assessment. “Aye, it’s one of Riften’s worst kept secrets,” he said, leaning against the wooden railing. He sighed. “Probably one you were better off not knowing, to be honest.”

Nadine’s meal churned in her stomach, heavy and sour. How could she have been so utterly stupid? Shadowmarks or no, it was abundantly clear just how much clout Maven had—her presence mirrored her namesake, tangling around everything in this city and digging in its wicked thorns, refusing to be ignored.

Except, Nadine had managed to ignore it just fine, apparently.

The people who worry me most are the ones with good intentions. Who overlook the real evil sitting on their own front door.

“Perhaps if I’d bothered to care about anyone other than myself, I might have noticed the truth,” Nadine said bitterly, fists balled by her sides. “Any bloody fool could see it, and yet here I am—”

“It’s easier to find the truth when you’re looking for it,” Brynjolf said, his hand tentatively brushing against Nadine’s. “Don’t be too hard on yourself.”

Hours ago, it might have offered some much needed comfort. Now it just felt like pity. 

Nadine snatched her hand away, fury rising white-hot in her chest. “And why shouldn’t I be? Because it’s easier not to think about things too much?” Her voice wavered on the last word, threatening to give. “I might fetch a sword here and help a person there, but if I choose not to see what’s right in front of me, what’s the point of it all?”

Tears prickled at the corners of Nadine’s eyes, and she willed them not to spill over.

“I can’t tell you where your loyalties lie, Nadine. Wouldn’t even if I could.” This time, Brynjolf kept his distance, but his voice was softer, his expression something resembling concern. “But I can tell you this—you can’t be everyone’s saviour. Ulfric’s soldiers all think they’re doing the right thing, same as the Empire’s, and they’re all out there dying in the hundreds for it. And in the end, which side is the one ‘doing the right thing’?”

“Well, that’s a loaded question,” Nadine said, folding her arms. “And one that I don’t think has a simple answer. I think there are people on each side that are in it with the best intentions, and people who are in it for personal gain.”

“And what about those who are in it for both those things?”

“I suppose—” Nadine’s brow furrowed. “Hold on. You’re not seriously trying to compare soldiers fighting for their country to shaking a bloody bar down, are you?”

Brynjolf shrugged. “Maybe the end goal isn’t the same, but there’s common ground there. Individuals working under one banner, to feed their kin or protect their country or to gain political leverage. And those fighting for their country,” he said, gesturing around him, “what exactly are they fighting for? To keep it from under the thumb of the Thalmor, or to keep out anyone who isn’t a son or daughter of Skyrim?”

“Like I said,” Nadine replied frostily, “it’s complicated.”

“Morality is complicated. Everyone has a different idea of right and wrong, and it’s up to you to work out your own views.” He shifted on his feet, moving closer to Nadine, one hand on his hip. “I don’t do this job because I think it’s right, I do it because it puts food on my plate and ale in my cup and a roof over my head.” He cocked his head, grinning conspiratorially. “And I also do it because I’m good at it. Damned good, in fact.”

Nadine scoffed. “Not that you’re boasting or anything.”

“I never boast about anything that isn’t completely true,” Brynjolf said, pulling something small and familiar looking out of his pocket. He held it level, one eye closed as he examined it closer, whistling low. “Nice dagger, this. Fine craftsmanship, glass and malachite, enchanted—bet Tonilia could fetch me a pretty price for it.”

Panic rose in Nadine’s chest, re-igniting her anger, and a flame surged to life in her hand. “Give that back!”

Brynjolf raised his palm in a placating gesture, his other hand extending the dagger to Nadine handle first. “No need for that, just wanted to demonstrate my abilities.” When Nadine took the blade, snuffing the flame in her hand out, his stance relaxed some. “I’d never actually steal from you, you know that by now. None of us would.”

“Us?”

“The Guild,” he replied, forearm resting on the railing. “We might not be entirely noble, but we do have some scruples. And, just like Maven Black-Briar and her kin, those closest to us are under our protection.” He cocked his head in the direction of Black-Briar manor. “That Shadowmark? It’s also carved into the beams at Warmaiden’s, next to the door at Honningbrew Meadery, on the side of Ysolda’s house in Whiterun. And it’s not just Shadowmarks, either,” Brynjolf said, nodding at Nadine’s neck. "We have other symbols we know too.”

Instinctively, Nadine reached for her pendant, its metal warm from where it had rested against her skin.

“I might not do many good things, but if I can take care of the people that matter to me, I’m happy.”

“So that’s what it boils down to? Friends in high places?”

“Low places, technically,” Brynjolf said, the hint of a crooked smile pulling at his mouth, “but aye, that’s about the size of it.”

“Not everyone has people who can take care of them.” Nadine turned away, leaning over the railing and gazing into the canal below. “They still matter, to someone. They’re not any less important than I am.”

“Generally speaking? Aye, that’s true. But that’s not the way the world works.” Brynjolf stood beside her, matching her stance and lolling against the barrier. “You matter more to me than Keerava or Talen-Jei. And they matter more to each other than either of us do to them. We all choose who’s important to us.” His fingers drummed against the wood, the dull blunt tap something Nadine could feel more than hear. “Right and wrong are tricky things to pin down, especially when it comes to matters of the heart.”

Nadine was very, very tempted to make some sort of barbed comment about how matters of the heart was an interesting way to describe their relationship, until she realised he was absolutely right. Regardless of how her relationship with each Sanctum member started, it was something deeper now; down to the bones of her, the threads of each member’s life irreversibly interwoven with her own. To cut them out would be to cut out a part of herself, and yet, if their paths hadn’t aligned—

Her thumb brushed against the pendant, each curve of its engraving as familiar to her as her own hand. A sigil, of sorts; one that now offered a more tangible protection than she’d initially realised. The same swirling triskele that adorned at least fourteen other pendants, the tapestries hanging on the Sanctum walls, the cover of the book that sat pride of place in its own display cabinet.

The same book she’d sought out to find, by any means necessary, a little over a year ago. The same book that had led her to Brynjolf, and then the Sanctum proper, when she’d stolen it from Adrianne and Ulfberth’s bedroom.

Well, she hadn’t stolen it, technically, but that was only by virtue of it being a set piece in an elaborate play. A fact she was very much not aware of at the time, and still chose to steal the book nonetheless.

What had her reasoning been, then?

“You know, I just remembered how we met,” Nadine said finally, watching as a curled red leaf floated on the water. “Told myself I’d never be a thief, but it would be fine just this once. That whoever had what I wanted must not need it, really. They must be rich, just keeping it for appearances, they wouldn’t miss it if someone else took it.” She barked a humourless laugh. “Or they were some malevolent mage hoarding all the knowledge for themselves, and they shouldn’t be allowed to have it, because it’d be much better off in the hands of someone who could put it to better use. And, of course, I considered myself that person.” She scoffed, her breath a visible, furious plume. “Gods, what a hypocrite I’ve been.”

Nadine didn’t need to see Brynjolf to know his brows would be furrowing, weighing up how best to respond.

“It’s fine, you can tell me I am,” she said bitterly. “It’s exactly what I deserve. To think I had the arrogance, the audacity—”

“Nadine, stop.” The hardness in Brynjolf’s voice took her aback for a moment, and when she faced him he looked at her intently, his mouth a straight, serious line. “I know you think you deserve to be punished for this, but for once, I’m not going to be the one to do it. And I’d tell you not to punish yourself either, but we both know how stubborn you are when you get something into your head.”

The words stung, hitting somewhere raw and vulnerable, and Nadine’s temper flared. Who was he to tell her who she was?

“Just… try and get some rest, maybe, do something nice,” he said, voice soft and placating. “If you want to see me, we can meet up later on, spend some time together.” He looked at Nadine with an expression that presumably shot for sympathetic but landed on constipated. “Or go see Vex, or Gwilin, or whoever else, but promise me you won’t go off on your own.”

Promise me, like Nadine was a child in need of coddling; some pathetic, fragile thing who couldn’t be trusted to take care of herself. Punishment would be preferable to this—being pitied, being patronised.

She met Brynjolf’s concerned look with a scowl. “I’ve managed perfectly fine on my own since well before I met you.”

“Nadine.” Brynjolf sighed. “Please.”

It should have felt powerful, having Brynjolf beg her for once, but all it made her feel was small and petulant and stupid.

She let go of the railing, curling her hands into fists, fighting down the flames burning under her skin.

“I promise nothing.”

Nadine had hoped that an expensive bottle of wine and a good night’s sleep would have made her feel better about everything. She’d hoped, at least, that she wouldn’t feel so foolish; that yesterday’s events would seem like a minor bump in the road rather than insurmountable. Instead, the wine had made her maudlin, and she’d tearfully lamented her current predicament before alcohol and exhaustion pulled her down into a thick, sticky sort of sleep. When she woke up, misery clung to her like a fog.

It was the first time in a long time that she had no idea what to do or where to go, restless to run but with no destination. Generally her escapades didn’t require this sort of thinking—the kind that stopped her dead in her tracks, all that gathered momentum driving her straight into despair.

Puzzles to be solved, spells to be learned—this was, she realised, the kind of thinking she was most well-versed in. Problems with one solution; a question with one answer. She wasn’t sure she could answer this one if she tried, and right now, she didn’t care to. She just wanted to get out of the city, as far from her ties as she could without returning home. Somewhere she could drink and mope away her troubles, as close to anonymous as possible.

Somewhere near the sea.

She didn’t want to go home, but that didn’t mean she didn’t miss it; the lapping tides, salt and sand on her skin, she and her brother collecting shells.

Digging around in her backpack, she pulled out a piece of parchment, using her empty wine bottle to hold it flat. Wrote, and wrote, and wrote, and by the time she was done, hand cramping and candle burned down to the wick, she knew where to go next. It wasn’t much of a plan—she still wasn’t sure what she’d do when she got there—but for now, at least, it was enough.

Nadine wasn’t going to bother trying to find a courier before she left Riften, reasoning that her letter would arrive quicker if she sent it at her destination, but as she handed Keerava back her door key one bounded in, letter in hand.

“Nadine Rielle, yes?” He smiled at her; another saccharine, condescending offering. “Delivery for you.”

Nadine frowned. “Who from?”

“He—” he coughed, cheeks reddening— “they told me not to say.”

“Ah. I see.” Nadine took the letter, stuffing it unceremoniously in her backpack. “Would you be able to deliver something for me? Not to the same person.”

The courier breathed a small sigh of relief. “Of course, Miss.” Pulled a small notebook out of his pocket, nodding to Keerava for her quill. “And who may I be sending this to?”

Nadine sat the letter in front of the courier, smoothing out its surface. “Sebastian Rielle, Daggerfall City.”