Sapphire’s Secrets: A Skyrim Story
Introduction:
A beautiful thief’s adventures with her young recruit
——————————————————————-
In the Ratways deep beneath the town of Riften, the senior members of the Thieves Guild gathered at the traditional time in the grand hall of their faction, to receive their latest tasks from the guild master. One by one, he dispatched the leather-clad thieves assembled there to the four corners of the province, with orders to steal, plant or sabotage whichever hapless officials or citizens had recently crossed the guild, or crossed others with the means to pay the guild to act on their behalf.
Last of the thieves to be addressed was a woman who stood alone at the back of the hall. She held herself tall, strong and aloof in the shadows; she stood still, her poised demeanour and the dark, well-worn leather armor she wore rendering her almost invisible in the gloom.
“Sapphire,” the guild master called her name. “I have a special assignment for you. We’ve had word that the Jarl of Falkreath has recently received a not unsubstantial shipment of jewels, as a tribute from a foreign business consortium keen to open up a trade agreement with his town. I’d like you to pay them a visit and relieve them of the burden of those jewels.”
Sapphire nodded, without speaking, and made to leave with her task.
“One more thing Sapphire,” the guild master called, stopping her. “I want you to take Brin with you.”
The woman turned and fixed the guild master with a hard stare. “Brin? The rookie? You’re kidding. He’s a greenhorn. He’ll get us both killed.”
“You know the rules Sapphire. Senior members take turns bringing the junior members out on missions. It’s called training. Someone did the same for you when you were initiated. If you can remember that far back. I’m sure the two of you will have fun once you’re out there.”
Without waiting for a response from her, he turned and called the name Brin to a group of recruits who had huddled together away from the main proceedings.
A young man – tall and lean, cockily confident but barely more than a teenager – peeled himself away from the group and strolled over to Sapphire and the guild master. She eyed the boy, contempt glinting nakedly in her eye.
“Pleased to see me?” Brin asked cockily, ignoring the withering look she gave him. “I’m looking forward to working with you, boss.”
She shook her head. “Just don’t get me killed rookie,” she said, turning and making for the exit; and he followed her despite not being invited.
“Play nice!” the guild master called after them both as he watched them disappear into the shadows, heading for the entrance to the surface of the town, she striding away purposefully as if unaccompanied, he half-jogging to keep up.
* * * * *
Outside the main gates of Riften they paid a wagon to carry them discreetly as far as the mountains to the west, and there they disembarked, to continue on foot. As they watched the cart disappear away down the trail, she explained that they would take a short cut she knew across an abandoned pass through the hills, from where they could sneak into Falkreath the back way, without attracting unwanted attention.
It was a full day’s trek along the deserted path through the hills, and they trod it in the same manner as they had left the guild; she striding ahead, deep in her own thoughts, he trailing behind, trying with admirable perseverance to engage her in conversation.
It was full summer, and they made sweaty progress up the hills in their leathers, hers worn and well-shaped to her strong but slender figure from years of use, his new and still shiny.
“Some of the older guys back at the guild told me to ask you what your real name was,” he said, as they navigated the steep paths. “They told me you never tell anyone. How come?”
“They’re right. And I bet they told you they’d give you a healthy pile of coin if you found out too. Well sorry to disappoint you, but I’m not going to tell you my real name, and I’m not going to tell you why I’m not going to tell you either.”
“That’s ok,” he replied. “They said you wouldn’t. To be honest I quite like the mystery anyway. I’ve always had a thing for a mysterious older woman as it happens.”
She turned irritably to him. “Look, I know you think you’re being flirtatious and boyishly charming, and maybe that was enough to win over the buck-toothed farm girls in whatever backwater skeever swamp it was you stumbled out of, but I’m telling you now it’s not going to work on me. So why don’t you just shut that mouth, save your breath, and keep your mind on the job. That way we might get this job done without the both of us getting killed or thrown in jail.”
Then she turned and strode purposefully ahead, leaving him behind her again. He shrugged and smiled, undeterred, jogged a few paces to catch up to her. “That’s ok. We don’t have to talk. I’m quite enjoying the view from back here anyway. You’ve got a pretty tidy backside for an older broad. Almost as good as the err… buck-toothed farm girls back home.”
She cursed him under her breath, and he grinned to himself watching her slender, leather-clad legs striding grumpily away from him and up the slopes.
* * * * *
They reached the western side of the pass late in the day, and stood looking down over the sweeping pine forests below them, the town of Falkreath just visible, nestling darkly among the trees. They found a spot to make camp, a sheltered piece of flat ground above the bank of a river that rolled gently down off the higher ground.
She sent Brin a little further down the path to collect wood for a fire, then rested for a few moments on the riverbank, alone and gazing at the gentle currents of the stream passing by. After the heat of the day and the long trail clad in her sweaty leather armor, it looked irresistibly inviting. She looked down the hill after the recruit. He would be gone collecting firewood for a good while yet, she estimated – she would have time for a quick dip in private, to wash and refresh herself, before he returned and they settled into camp for the evening.
The decision made, she stood and unbuckled the fastenings at her neck and shoulder, letting the well-worn hide coverings flap open and the fresh mountain air caress the suddenly-freed skin of her shoulders and chest, clammy to the touch from the day’s sweat. She sighed with the relief of it, stretched back her neck, and let the rest of her chest armor slip off her torso. She sat down and leaned back, closed her eyes and daydreamed, enjoying the feeling of the soft moss on the ground massaging her where she sat, and the soft evening air playing lightly against her bare breasts and stomach.
When she opened her eyes again something was moving in the corner of her sight. It was the recruit, returning to camp, his arms full of firewood. She scooped her breasts hurriedly into her hands and turned her body away from him as he neared, trying to cover herself from his eyes as best she could.
He blinked, bemused at the sight that greeted him as he came round the corner with arms full of wood – his usually-grumpy mentor, sitting naked to the waist at the river’s edge, like some bashful siren washed up on the shore.
“I thought you’d take longer than that,” she explained, irritation and embarrassment both palpable in her voice as she looked at the sticks and brush he clutched to his chest. “I… wanted to wash before we eat.”
“Good idea,” he said cheerfully, seemingly not in the least embarrassed by her accidental display. “It was sweaty work today. I’ll leave you to it.” He gestured up the slope. “See you back at camp in a while.”
She nodded brusquely and turned away, then turned back. “And if I catch you looking, I’ll cut your throat. Don’t think I’m joking.”
“Don’t flatter yourself boss,” he called teasingly, as he carried on up the path. Then he paused for a moment, and, winking cheekily, added, “You’ve no need to be hide yourself though – you’re pretty good-looking without your leathers on. For an older broad, of course.”
She glared silently at him as he trudged away up the path, until he had safely disappeared around the corner. Then she allowed herself a sly smile at the compliment, before slipping the lower half of her body out of the remainder of her armor, and slipping naked into the spring, gasping a little at the cold water as it caressed every inch of her naked skin.
She waded out to waist depth, and with a deep lungful of air ducked under the water, submerging herself completely. She re-surfaced and breathed out through the cascade of cool spring water dribbling from her hair and down her thirsty lips, then ducked partially under again and gulped down a couple of mouthfuls. The water tasted clean and refreshing at the back of her throat, and she felt the coldness course pleasurably through her body, reinvigorating her tired muscles. She scooped back her drenched hair with both hands, arching her body in a long, languid stretch that sent her small but plump breasts dancing free in the mild evening air, the cold water turning her nipples hard as the rock around her.
She waded aimlessly for a little while, splashing her skin gently with the pearlescent water and enjoying the solitude and freedom of the moment; until after some time she realised there was a sensation growing in her – a physical, tingling thrill she hadn’t felt in a long time. Perhaps it was the cold, or the sensation of being naked in the open air, or perhaps even the compliments and flirting she’d been on the receiving end of all day – she was feeling aroused. She tried to ignore it, but eventually had to give in. She flashed a glance around her, over both naked shoulders, to assure herself she was alone, and then she squatted down in the water, to give herself a little privacy. With one hand under the water’s surface, she cupped her breasts, kneading the soft flesh and running two wet fingers firmly over her hard nipples, one after the other, pinching and toying them until they tingled.
She breathed deeply, enjoying the sensation for a little while; and then she quietly slipped the other hand under the water too, all the way down and between her legs, where she began to tenderly tease her long-neglected pussy. She gently worked at the fleshy folds with her fingertips, and at the same time she began to toy her clit to excitement with her thumb, savouring herself in the cool water as she warmed up her fleshy snatch with quick and frantic circles of her fingers.
As she began to get excited, feeling the sticky wetness rising on her pussy lips, she shot another glance back to the river bank and up the hill, checking again that she was alone. Involuntarily, she found herself wondering whether the recruit was indeed back at camp preparing the fire, or whether he was cheeky enough to be stealing a glance at her, peering at her right now in her nakedness from over the top of a crag, or crouched down among the riverbank reeds to watch her. She flushed at the idea, shocked to find herself becoming powerfully turned on by the thought of being watched by him as she touched herself. Her breathing quickened, as did the movement of her fingers against the now slick and willing lips of her pussy, and as her desire carried her away, she straightened those fingers and slipped them firmly and purposefully inside her open and frothing hole, all the way to the knuckle, biting her lip and shuddering deeply with the pleasure of it.
Then immediately she slid them out again, her shoulders arching above the water as she withdrew; then plunged them straight back in, teasing herself, clutching at her thigh and her breast one after the other as she penetrated herself under the water. Delving her fingers in and out and in again, she fucked herself. She sawed at herself quicker and quicker, rubbing her clit into a throbbing frenzy with the underside of her thumb at the same time; she added a third finger and then a fourth, until she was all but pushing her whole hand inside herself. The passion began to rise to a dizzy crescendo, and she found her thoughts invaded again by images of him. In her mind she saw him watching her from some hidden spot on the slopes above; squatting down on his powerful haunches to conceal himself, his hard cock in his hand and pleasuring himself furiously as he watched her doing the same from his hiding place, working himself to an animal climax as he watched her violating herself in the water with rough and plundering fingers.
And with that image held in her mind, she fingered herself relentlessly, until she could bear it no longer, and the tides of orgasm swept over and submerged her, her hips thrashing under the water as her cunt convulsed and twitched around her fist and she bit her lip and screwed her eyes shut; and as she came, she imagined him cumming too, emptying himself in hot bursts on the ground as he watched her. She came so violently that she had to clamp her hand to her mouth, lest her cry echo across the whole hillside, and the pulses of her orgasm swept through her like tiny earthquakes, wave after throbbing wave.
Finally they subsided, and one wet and trembling hand slipped from her mouth, while the other, wet and trembling also, slipped from between her legs; and, panting, she opened her eyes again. As her breathing returned to normal, she scanned the hills around her; as far as she could see, he was not there. She felt relief, but the faintest twinge of disappointment also.
When she felt able to stand again, she dried and dressed herself quickly and quietly, and made her way calmly back up to camp, taking care to ensure her hard outer demeanour was firmly back in place before she saw the light of the camp fire. He was sitting by the fire when she approached, feeding the flames with handfuls of dried brush. He turned and watched her arrive.
“You ok?” he asked casually as she sat down opposite him. The combination of her powerful orgasm and the cold spring water had left her skin still tingling, and she felt herself redden – she hoped imperceptibly – at his question.
“Of course I’m ok,” she said, putting on her best innocent look. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
He shrugged. “No reason. You just look a little – flushed.”
“From the cold water probably,” she mumbled, feeling herself turn a little redder still.
They ate in silence, she shamed at having had such impure thoughts about her trainee, unable to look him in the eye across the camp fire; he assuming simply that she was her usual aloof self. And as night settled fully on the province, and the fire died down, she made to turn in, quitting the fireside and settling down on her bed roll. Keeping her leathers firmly on this time. After a few minutes he did the same.
They lay there, six feet from each other in the dark. They were both quiet; the last of the embers chattered softly to them as they waited for sleep to draw near. Then he grinned into the darkness and spoke. “You know, it gets very cold at night up in these hills. Maybe we should huddle together. Just for warmth of course. No funny business.”
She tutted softly. “You don’t give up, do you.” She turned over and closed her eyes. “Get some rest. We have a job to do in the morning.”
“Okay, you win,” he conceded, turning on his bedroll. “I thought it was worth one last try though.” He let the silence settle. Then he added, teasingly, “Particularly since you seemed so frisky down by the river earlier.”
He smiled again to himself and then shut his eyes. Beside him, she flushed deeply, thanking the gods it was too dark for him to see her blushing.
* * * * *
She awoke into the sound of chaos. Opening her eyes, she saw Brin being dragged from his bedroll by a group of armed figures. He was fighting back bravely but losing.
They were bounty hunters. They’d been ambushed. She sat up and reached for her blade in one movement. As she grabbed for it, she felt herself halted by a heavy hand on her arm.
The last thing she was aware of was another figure looming over her as she rose. Before she could get to her feet, she’d been struck hard about the back of the head and went down on all fours, the blow sending her mind spinning. As her consciousness left her, she heard the voices of their attackers standing over her:
“She’s a pretty one. Our lucky day boys; we’ll have some fun with her.”
“No. Take the wench back to town with the male and turn her over to the guards. She’s the one with the price on her head, he’s worth nothing. And no one puts a finger on her – jarl won’t pay out for damaged goods.”
* * * * *
She came to in a dark cell, the stink of damp and rot in her nostrils, a distant dripping of water on stone the only sound.
As she tried to move she realised with alarm that her hands were bound. She held them to her face and inspected the bonds. A tough strip of leather gripped her wrists roughly together, forcing her arms into a crude cross shape; she guessed she had been unconscious and tied up like this for some hours – the leather ties had bitten into the skin of her wrists and made them red-raw. She moved her wrists around a little, wincing as the hide cut into them, testing to see if there were any weakness or looseness she could take advantage of. But they had been tied with skill, and she knew she would not be freeing them herself.
She tried to calm her thoughts and assess her situation. She assumed she had been transported into town and handed over to the jarl, so she was now presumably in one of the cells in the jail.
Her armor and weapons were gone and she was alone. There was no sign of Brin. She shivered as the damp cold of the cell penetrated the thin slip draped over her body – the only scant dignity her captors had left her with. She waited, deciding for now to try and conserve her energy, and for the next hour or so she drifted in and out of a fitful sleep on the floor of the damp cell.
At some point she awoke to the sound of a heavy lock turning on the other side of the cell door, and then a great groan of iron as it swung open, accompanied by a sudden intrusion of torchlight. She sat up hurriedly and slid herself to the rear wall of the cell, pressing herself against what felt like a rickety old table as a figure appeared in the doorway.
“Leave us,” the figure said with an air of authority, turning to address someone beyond the door. And with that, the sound of a guard’s armor clanking cumbersomely away down the corridor. She listened to the sound until it disappeared completely. The figure in the doorway seemed to do the same; then turned to the near-naked and dirty thief in the corner of the cell.
“Ah, the famous thief woman. Sapphire, isn’t it? You’ve run up quite the bounty in these parts.” The figure’s voice was noble, but drawling and unfriendly. She peered into the shadows to make out the face. It was the jarl himself.
“Jarl Siddgeir,” she said with contempt. “Since when does the jarl lower himself to prisoner visits?”
He stepped deeper into the cell. “Generally I wouldn’t lower myself, as you put it… but when I heard my stewards gossiping that the most wanted thief in this Hold had been caught this morning by bounty hunters, and that said thief was in fact a rather beautiful – if hard-looking – woman, and was at this very moment languishing in one of my cells in only her underthings – I admit my curiosity got the better of me.”
He set the torch in a sconce on the wall and moved closer, standing over her. He looked her up and down, head to toe, as if looking over a prize specimen of livestock he was considering purchasing. Under his gaze, she suddenly felt her state of undress more keenly than before. The thin fabric of her slip was damp from the mildewed air of the cell and it clung to every curve of her body, leaving little to the imagination of anyone who cared to look. And the jarl did look. He looked at her as if she were his property. She pulled her knees to her chest and hugged herself protectively.
The jarl reached down and stroked her hair. She jerked her head away at his touch. In response he grasped a fistful of her dark locks and pulled her upwards. She gasped with the pain of it and acquiesced, rising scrabbling to her feet from the stone floor.
He peered at her covetously, holding her against the table so that she was virtually sitting on it, the toes of her bare feet having to stretch to touch the ground, her thighs forced apart as they pressed against it; and then he spoke, quietly but intently:
“You are a wanted woman. In accordance with the laws of this Hold, you’re to be executed at first light. In the town square. In public.” He paused, letting that information register in her eyes, then continued.
“Normally that fate would be unavoidable by someone who had committed your – voluminous list of crimes. But… there are things that someone possessing of your – assets – might do to convince a compassionate jarl that her sentence could be commuted.”
He let go of her hair now, stroked the side of her head softly as if to apologetically smooth it down again, then slid his hand down her neck, past her shoulder, and grasped one of her breasts roughly through her slip. He stooped, bringing his face close to hers as if he meant to kiss her, but instead shot her a snake-like smile. “Things of a – personal – nature… I’m sure you understand…”
She looked blankly at him for a moment, then spoke quietly. “I’d rather hang than that,” she said, her tongue full of venom. She spat hard in his face and knocked his hand away from her breast with her bound wrists.
The jarl’s jaw clenched, swallowing anger, and he wiped the spittle off his cheek. “Shame,” he said softly, looking down into the shadows around her parted legs. “Obstinate to the last. I had expected more wit… from a woman of your accomplishments.”
He looked her up and down again, then smiled and shifted, so that for a moment she thought he would turn to leave. But instead, with a swift movement that took her by surprise, he seized her by both shoulders and spun her roughly around, so that she found herself facing away from him. She cried out angrily as he pushed her head down, doubling her over so that her chest was flat against the table, her cheek pushed up against the rough timber of its top. And with his body weight, he lay against her and pinned her there. She struggled against him, but with her hands bound and caught under the weight of both their bodies, she was helpless. Her bare feet slipped and struggled vainly on the slick damp of the stone floor.
He spoke again, this time hissing right into her ear, his breath hot and foul against her neck as he leaned his full weight crushingly against her. The table creaked loudly beneath her and she groaned as the air was squeezed out of her; as she squirmed desperately beneath him, his words came out breathless with the strain of holding her down.
“You know, you should thank me really. With a single word, I could have every crude and ale-stinking guard in the town lining up outside the door of this cell. They would happily take turns to ravage you, without let-up, until sunrise, and then they’d drag your worthless and used-up hide limping out to the gallows. But instead I thought something more…intimate… would be befitting. Just between you and me.”
With that she felt his hand run slowly down her flank. He grasped a fistful of the fabric of her slip and tugged it upwards and free of her hips, exposing her taut thighs and buttocks, and then he ran his palm sleazily across the freshly-bared skin, grabbing at the warm flesh he found there.
“At any rate, it would be an unforgivable waste for such an – alluring young criminal…” he went on, pushing her legs roughly apart as he said the words…
“…to go to the gallows without having made some…personal reparation to the jarl for her many, many despicable crimes against this hold.”
The words came between sharp little biting kisses he planted down the curve of her back, as though he were sampling some rare delicacy before devouring it fully.
And then the kisses stopped, and she heard him stand upright again, unbuckling himself calmly behind her, his breath heavy in anticipation and echoing in the cell.
“Willing or otherwise.”
And then his weight was on her again, his thighs lined up against hers, pinning her body tight and unwilling against the table edge; and she felt his hard cock, free of his noble robes now, pressing against her, the hot thickness of it probing and poking at her as it felt its way towards something that would yield to it.
She cursed him finally and viciously through gritted teeth, barely able to breathe from the crushing weight on top of her; then she closed her eyes hard, and braced herself for what surely must come next.
He laughed cruelly under his breath at her impotent protests as he parted her buttocks roughly with one flat palm, finding there the entrance he had been looking for. He steadied himself, breathing hoarsely like a wild animal and widening his stance a little as he prepared to force himself into her. And then, just as she felt the violating hardness of his head meet with her, his laughter suddenly stopped, and with a gasp like something suddenly deflated, his body went limp. For a moment she felt his weight shift on top of her, and then the weight slid away and dropped mutely to the stone floor.
For a moment she was frozen from shock, panting hard as her lungs found room to breathe again, unable to open her eyes and still leaning across the table, her sex exposed to the damp dungeon air as if interrupted in congress with a phantom; then finally she turned to look down, at the jarl’s lifeless body crumpled ignobly on the ground, his cock still bared to the air and letting itself down now in angry pulses.
She looked at the arrow protruding freshly from his flank, the blood pooling black and rapid in the shadows, then past him to the doorway. There stood Brin the recruit, his emptied bow hanging casually from two fingers of his gloved hand.
“Happy to see me this time?” he asked her. “That’s a first for this trip I’d wager. Hope I wasn’t interrupting anything.”
She looked at him, then at the body on the floor, then back at him.
“You just killed the jarl,” she said, still breathing hard. “We need to leave. Now. Before the guards get back and find out.”
* * * * *
They slipped out of the jail through a narrow drainage tunnel, eventually emerging into a shallow and disused well shaft. He kicked away the dusty old boards that covered its mouth, helped her out, and then they fled the town for the dark forests surrounding it.
“I know a place in the forest we can hide out,” she told him as they paused to cut her hands loose with his dagger; and then they headed east, guided by snatched glimpses of starlight through the canopy of branches above their heads. She couldn’t move quickly without her clothes: the dry pine needles covering the forest floor bit at her bare feet and the branches they pushed through grabbed greedily at her bare skin. After a time she could go no further, and so he carried her in his arms, until eventually they reached a dark hollow in a glade, where moonlight pooled like a magical lake.
She led them down into the moonlight and to a well-hidden cave entrance. “This used to be a bolthole for a guild of assassins,” she explained. They took great care to keep it a secret. But they moved west years ago. We should be safe here for a while.”
The abandoned assassins’ cavern was vast and dark, an echoing network of tunnels; the perfect place for a pair of fugitives to hunker down. They made camp and a fire deep within its walls, to be sure their light and sound couldn’t reach the surface and give them away.
As they sat together by the fire, she cleaned her wounds with water from shallow pools at the back of the cave, while Brin explained how he’d managed to escape from the bounty hunters as they took himself and the unconscious Sapphire to town that morning. They had searched for him for a while, but seemed to lose interest quickly, seemingly more interested in getting Sapphire – their valuable bounty – to the jarl and collecting their reward. He had waited for night to fall, then sneaked into the town.
“I figured you’d be in the jail, so I just hid out near the entrance and waited,” he explained. “When the jarl turned up and sent the guards away, I took the chance to slip inside. Seems like that was his plan too…” he joked grimly.
She nodded thoughtfully, impressed by his account. “I suppose I owe you a pretty big thank-you,” she said humbly. “You saved my life and my dignity. That’s quite a first outing for a rookie.”
He shrugged. “There was me thinking that killing a nobleman was a pretty awful start to a career as a sneak thief.”
“He was the worst kind of leader. Corrupt, lazy, self-serving. The townspeople would thank you if they could.”
He smiled. “They might not be so quick to thank me if they saw what else I took from them.”
And she watched him curiously as he reached into the shadows behind him, bringing back a small hemp bag tied with fine ribbon.
He loosened the ribbon, took her hand, turned her palm flat to him, and poured into it a half-dozen or so glassy objects.
She turned them to the light of the fire; they glimmered a deep and brilliant blue, as if the flames were caught inside them. She raised her eyes back to him and smiled. “They’re sapphires. These must be what the guild master sent us to get.” Her voice was changed, deep and purring, as if she had just been handed something magical.
“Of course,” he said, picking another of the precious jewels out of the bag and turning it softly in his hand. “And I was thinking, as I carried you and them out of danger – I think I know why they call you that now.”
She leaned closer. She said nothing, but her eyes – deep and glimmering now with the same fire as the jewels in her hand – looked at him with curiosity, full of expectation.
“Sapphires have a hard, cold exterior. Like you. But despite that they’re very valuable, very precious. You might say priceless even. And desired by many. Also like you.”
“Desired by many,” she said, repeating his words. “But only obtained by the few who show themselves to be skilful or brave enough.”
And with that she leaned into him, turning his face to hers with her hand, and began to kiss him. Gently at first, almost nervously, then with a great and rising hunger, using her lips and tongue on his and grasping at him with her hands.
She pulled at his leathers, undoing the fastenings at his waist and wrestling him out of them, then sat back to admire him. His young cock rose hard and proud from his muscled torso in front of her eyes, and she was overcome with desire like she’d never felt before.
She took hold of him with both hands, roughly kissing and licking up and down his shaft and kneading his heavy balls with the other hand. His body stiffened and he thrust himself, breathless, into her cupped hands as she worked him, enjoying the feeling of his erection bulging in her soft palms. And then she parted her ruby lips and leaned down and took him hungrily in her mouth, swallowing his length entirely.
She gulped and worked at him with her plump, hot tongue and thick, soft lips, and he clutched at her soft hair and whispered profanities into the dark of the cavern. Then she came up for air, looked at him and grinned wickedly, licking her lips, and swallowed him again, letting his shaft slide deeper this time, down into her throat and holding it there, her throat muscles twitching tightly around his the head of his cock, until her eyes watered and she coughed two lines of spit from her nostrils and wetly against his muscled stomach. She withdrew again, panting deeply, thick tendrils of her saliva hanging between her gaping lips and his erection. She massaged the base of his cock firmly with both hands and spoke, looking deeply and seriously at him.
“Fuck my mouth harder, recruit,” she said. “I want to feel you push yourself right to the back of my throat.”
“I don’t want to hurt you,” he said. But she shook her head dismissively and squeezed him harder until he bucked against her clutch.
“Fuck my throat. Fuck it as deep as you can. I’m not asking you, I’m telling you, rookie.” And with that she went back down on him, gulping him down again, and he grasped her head with both his hands, holding her hair tightly in all his fingers, and pushed her head into his crotch until his cock was buried deep inside her gullet. He held her firm, and with short stabbing movements of his hips he fucked her hot and slick throat, again and again, until a loud and guttural growl gurgled up from her and he felt himself twitching and tightening in his stomach, his orgasm rising, on the edge of drowning her with his juices.
He released her then and she fell quickly back, gasping for air, licking her lips and panting greedily, and he clutched his glistening cock, greasy with saliva from deep in her throat, to hold back the orgasm spilling up in him. They watched each other hungrily for a few moments, their eyes dancing together in the firelight.
Then he rose and stood over her; she sat, still panting and open-mouthed from the throat-fucking he’d just given her, and she looked up at him weakly, submissively, her eyes glimmering with passion. He squatted at her feet, grasped the backs of both her knees, and pulled her to him, pulling her thighs open at the same time. She willingly held them open for him, showing him her womanhood, already glistening brightly with her juices. He ran his hands up the insides of her thighs and to her hips and stomach, as if to claim all her flesh for himself, and then he lowered himself further to eat greedily between her legs, lapping at her wetness as the hot musk of her cunt invaded all his senses.
She moaned loudly and clawed at him as she felt his hot breath enter her and his thick tongue explore her; she pulled her knees up against her breasts, offering herself to him completely; she ground herself against his face as he fucked her with his tongue and lips, encouraging him ever deeper into her, deeper than she thought was possible, until her juices ran freely out of her. And then, as she began to lose control, she felt him withdraw, felt herself grasped at the hips, felt herself lifted and flipped over, so that she was on all fours and peering into the darkness beyond the fire.
And now he was at her again, plundering her from behind with his fingers. But his tongue and his lips were straying, moving away from the hot and throbbing mess of her dripping, over-excited pussy and towards another prize. She gasped as she realised what he wanted – her most intimate possession – and she reached one hand back in encouragement as he parted her buttocks with his hand and found her. His tongue flickered suddenly, eagerly, teasingly across her asshole, the sensation of it making her whole body twitch violently, and she cried out in passion. He licked at her again, and again, smearing her asshole with the juices from her vagina, until the flicks of his tongue began to transform into a steady probing, and she felt his muscular tongue tunnel hungrily into her tight asshole as his fingers went in and out of her helpless and convulsing cunt.
She could have cum right there, letting go with both her holes as he worked them, his fingers buried deep in her pussy and his tongue tunnelling into her asshole, but he had one final surprise for her. As her climax approached, she felt his tongue again pull away from her, but her disappointment did not last long, for almost immediately she felt something else take its place there. Without a word, he was manoeuvring the head of his cock into place, lining it up with her twitching ring until she felt his slick head pressing insistently up against it.
She moaned, clutching at his thighs and pulling them towards her, encouraging him in for the kill.
“Give it to me,” she hissed to him, urging him on. “Take me.”
And immediately she felt him pushing forcefully at her, and she held herself open for him as best she could. His cock was still covered thickly with her throat phlegm, and he asshole was still coated in a glistening mixture of her juices and his saliva, and he slipped into her easily. She cried out deeply, an animal howl that lingered long in the cave tunnels, and then she begged him to fuck her, to fuck her the way the jarl had wanted to, but only Brin had permission to. And Brin did so willingly.
He climbed on top of her completely, his body weight forcing her flat to the floor, and she writhed under him in wonderful agony as his cock seemed to impale her again and again on the hard ground; and he kissed and licked at her neck and the side of her mouth as he sunk himself repeatedly into her. His hard and merciless cock filled her completely, stimulating every bit of her so deeply and wildly that her orgasm built in seconds, and her asshole clutched at him so tightly that he too could not hold back the rise of his pleasure.
And soon she was cumming, loudly and violently, writhing against his plundering cock like a wild animal caught and held down in that cave by a hunter, biting her own fingers and calling out to the gods as every last overwhelming pulse of it surged through her body. And as the waves of her orgasm faded, she felt him pulling out of her, leaving her wet and gaping and throbbing. Without warning she felt him grasp her hair, pulling her to him and back down to his cock. As their eyes met – hers still vague and dizzy from her spent passion – she understood what final thing it was he asked of her, and she gave it to him willingly.
She took his length in her mouth again and sucked the orgasm out of him, making grateful noises as he fucked her mouth roughly in short, quickening little thrusts, working himself rapidly to climax. With her lips tightly around him and clutching her hair in both his hands, he came hard, grunting, loosing himself first into her mouth, launching arrows of cum to the back of her throat; and then, as she withdrew a little, gasping for air and swallowing his gifts, he coated her lips and her cheek as well, scattering myriad hot little beads on her soft and grateful skin as the convulsing muscles of his cock emptied every last drop of himself over her.
And then they lay in that cave in the darkness together, panting, animal, naked, letting the warmth of the fire caress their spent bodies, until the dawn broke softly outside.
* * * * *
The master of the Riften thieves guild watched the two leather-clad figures enter the main hall, the first striding out ahead, the second jogging to keep up.
He rose slowly out of his chair, then called out to the first of them.
“You took your time. I was beginning to think you’d both been killed. How’d the rookie do? You teach him anything useful?”
She ignored the question until she was a little closer. Then she smiled to the guild master, an inscrutable smile, the meaning of which he was not meant to understand.
“He did pretty good,” she said, looking over her shoulder to her partner, who had rejoined the little huddle of recruits at the back of the hall. She smiled again.
“Not bad at all in fact. For a rookie.”
