Molag Touched

...Or so Sawira thought.

In the main hall, Sawira would cut her way through more of the ancient dead, walking down the old tattered rugs with triumph as her prize at last laid before her.

But before she could claim the contents of her reward, a faint rumbling, growing louder and louder, beckoned her attention.

“What in the world?”, she asked herself aloud, turning her eyes on the passage just in time...

...to find the stone colossi marching into the hall, its otherworldly senses trained on her.

Their armaments drawn, the stone animunculi and the elven adventuress drew upon each other, whilst another looked on from the shadows.

Arria, waiting on the sidelines, observed her machinations as they played out, waiting for the perfect moment to sneak in.

Meanwhile, the battle began to unfold, with the animated statue unleashing its grotesque arm upon Sawira, who narrowly avoided being pulverised underneath.

As Sawira moved in with her retaliation, bearing her ethereal steel upon the robust protector of the tomb, Arria saw her chance, swiftly shuffling across the room.

With the raucous thunder of stone and steel raging behind her, Arria gave her undivided attention to the glorious chest before her, working on breaking open its old locks.

Just as the lock came undone Arria found her work interrupted by the curious case of an axe crashing into the chest, just narrowly missing her.

“What the?”, she remarked, as her ears picked up on a surprising lull in the battle between the ebony-clad elf and the colossus.

“Back away from that”, said Sawira, commanding. Her black sword pointed at Arria.

As the elven woman stared daggers at the redheaded rogue, she could see that the colossus had fallen short of its purposes, utterly defeated by the temple intruder.

Unperturbed by the girl's strength of arms, or the ruffle in her plan, Arria drew steel, ready to defend her stake on the claim of gold.

“This isn't a fight you want to pick, sweetie”, she said, rather disparagingly.

“Its not yours to claim, so mo—”, before Sawira could finish, Arria was already set upon her, blocked only by a hasty riposte from the elf. Their swords clashed with a resounding clatter, ringing through the echo-y halls of the temple.

As they met blow for blow, they slowly pushed one another towards the centre of the room, neither seemingly holding a hand over the other.

Sawira had seemed to gain the upper hand, pushing Arria down bit-by-bit.

But it turned out to be a feint which Arria revealed when she made her play, just narrowly missing the elf with her swing.

Redrawing her stance, Arria took the time to observe her opponent, an act Sawira reciprocated. eyeing each others form admiringly.

“You're pretty good, sure you don't wanna call it quits before I take you for all you're worth?”, Arria taunted, confident as usual.

Drawing her blade at the ready, Sawira readied herself for the next step, but not without a little rise to her opponent.

“Not so bad yourself, but you're still in the way of my treasure”, she replied rather straightly.

“You mean 'my' treasure”, Arria responded, possessive though her tone was playful.

Sawira grunted in response, preferring a return to their duel, which came quickly.

As the sounds of ringing steel raged on, more intruders seeped into the temple.

“Attack!”, the warchief roared, alerting the two women to his presence.

And that of his warband of orsimer, charging into the fore with their orichalcum weapons at hand.

“Shor's balls!”, Arria exclaimed bemused, “Just how many people did that idiot tip off?”, in her exasperation the rogue questioned just how 'exclusive' the tip she had been given about the treasure had been.

Sawira turned towards the sounds, seeing her feminine foe so perplexed. Just in time to see the oncoming onslaught of orc warriors...

...allowing her to react swiftly in kind, dispatching one of the bandits with a swift slice into his flesh. At the same time, another fell upon her, assuming his comrade's demise would be his victory.

But what the orc failed to realise was that Sawira was a vampire, possessed of an unnatural haste that allowed her to smoothly twirl on a pivot and deal a fatal blow to the armour-clad warrior, who's confidence twisted into horror.

“Well, look at you, stealing the show”, Arria mused seeing as the orcs all became focused on the elven lass.

Watching the elf draw into a stance to continue the fight, or as Arria saw it, a distraction, she smiled.

“I'll leave you to it, then”, she remarked.

With purpose, the redheaded rogue marched towards the chest, the mutual goal of everyone in the room, kicking at it with impressive strength. Strength enough, to force it to topple.

The chest hit the ground with a weighty crash, all manner of jewel and coins spilled around within its half-opened lid. Arria knelt down by its side, peering in with her ice blue eyes.

“There you are, gorgeous”, she cooed gently, spying her prize.

Retrieving her trophy, an ebony staff of some description, she turned back to find her elven friend still knee deep in the orc horde. A development that neither surprised or upset Arria.

“Its been fun, but I can see your busy”, she remarked in jest.

The rogue's words were like a dull whisper to Sawira's body pumping through adrenaline. She was on the defensive, each clear stroke of her sword an act of defiance and denial.

Trying to keep the orcs from encroaching closer as they slowly closed the gap bit-by-bit. Their advance was constant, but costly. Each misstep punished severely as the elven warrioress struck with superior reflexes.

“Well, I'll leave you to it, good luck~”, with an impassioned wave, Arria gestured farewell, walking away comfortable with the fact that neither Sawira or the orcs could pursue her with the other in the way.

“Wha— You— You bitch!”, Sawira, flustered, could only think to fire barbs at the rogue, glaring daggers at the woman.

Some ways away from the fighting, Arria turned back to the stairwell she'd just taken, a pang of conscience contemplating the desire to run back and help, even if Sawira was a stranger to her.

“I could, but...”, she wondered aloud to herself but eventually decided on her current course, “I think she'd stab me even if I did go back”, she reassured herself before returning to her escape.

“Wha— Shit!”, her introspection had left her oblivious to the clattering of more armour clad orcs closing in on the passage she sought to take, catching her entirely unawares.

In her haste she dropped the staff, flinging her arms towards the hilt of her sword.

“Not so fast, girl”, the orc spat, knocking her off her feet with a single solid blow to the face.

“Ngh...”, Arria collapsed to the ground her consciousness leaving her as her head hit the solid stone floor.

The orcs loomed over her, eyes deep with a primal urge. “She'll make a fine trophy”.

Back in the main hall Sawira had dispatched a number of the orcs, soaking the old tattered rugs in thick, thick blood. Even so, the orcs pressed on her with precision, slowly whittling away at her stamina.

One such orc, standing out above the rest, managed to keep up with Sawira in a duel. Not only matching her blows, but pushing her back in a flurry that slowly shattered her guard forcing her to use weaker and weaker counters.

“You're mine, bitch!”, the orc warrior yelled as he swung at her side.

“Not— So- Fast—!”, Sawira cried defiance but she had already lost to exhaustion, her defenses crumbled and she fell back, struggling just to stand.

It didn't take much from the orcs to make Sawira collapse, and as she looked back at them, anger in her eyes she saw...

...their most painful answer.

After a long journey the orc warband had returned home, a stronghold in the snowy mountains that bordered Eastmarch in the West and Morrowind to the east.

The hunters and guards came to watch as their brothers returned triumphant.

Their treasure in tow, carried securely over the shoulders of those who bested them.

For their part, the girls had remained on the brink of exhaustion, tired, weak, starved. Perfectly pliable, and unable to resist.

Barely conscious as they were taken to the heart of their new home, Narzulbur.

The spoils of the tomb were laid out before the warchief's longhouse.

Of which the girls, dreary, but beginning to wake, were counted.

“Another great haul, men”, praised the warchief, emphatically dragging his axe around. “We'll spread the spoils as you all deserve, but first...”

“...we have some guests to acquaint with their new home”. All eyes were on the two girls, bound awkwardly and in no position to flee, left to grumble as they felt the horde of leering eyes on them.

Taken inside, Sawira and Arria were made to watch the chief's posturing, as he took his time settling in to the comfort of home.

Standing by the fire, he contemplated what to do with their two captives. His men awaited his words with tempered patience.

“Slave wives...”, the words came to him softly. “That's it, that'll be perfect”.

“Break them”, the warchief commanded. The orcs responded with excitement. The girls with half-lidded fear.

The girls were stripped for all to see, their body's on display for those hungry orcs. The first of them went after Sawira, using deft fingers to intrude upon her sex.

“You— Can't!”, she cried through gritting teeth, eyes turning to a similar scene before her.

The orc next to her went right for a more intimate approach, taking advantage of Arria's inability to defend herself.

He buried his face in between her cheeks, his rugged tongue lapping at her sweet honeypot. Whatever struggling Arria managed to perform only made his job that much easier forcing her to quiver at his whim.

“You... bastards!”, she rebelled, straining her voice.

“Mmm”, the orc grumbled, licking at his chops. “Now you're ready.”

In tandem the orsimer claimed both women, Arria from behind, Sawira from the front.

Without the strength, or freedom, to resist, Arria was left gritting her teeth. Too exhausted from their long journey to even throw curses instead all she gave them was shunted panting, but as her large breasts swayed in the motions of fucking, it was safe to say the orcs didn't care what she did.

“S-stop, don't!”, the orc listened to Sawira's pleas with his erect spear turgidly resting before her lips, only parting them with a powerful thrust when he grew bored of her attempts to stop him.

He gripped her throat as he pushed deep inside her, preventing her from mounting any worthwhile resistance beyond limply pressing against his chest, which only excited him further.

Rutting faster and faster, the orc soon broke Sawira's footing, bringing them both to the ground forcefully. His cock impaled deep inside her flower, stopping for nothing.

“I'll kill every— one of you”, exasperated but undefeated, Arria threw veiled threat after threat at her abuser who simply laughed back.

He pushed her down into the ground, fondling his staff as it loomed before her face. “You'll be suckin' my cock for the rest of your life, whore”.

He gripped her chains, pulling her back as he pressed his cock into her glistening pussy. He started slow, but quickly picked up his pace, pounding in and out.

Over on Sawira's side, the orc had resolved to use his weight, pressing himself against Sawira so that he could thrust deeper and deeper inside her.

“Don't look away”, he commanded, gripping her face in his hand, though she did her best to fight him.

Moving like a piston inside her, his muscles began to tighten, the urge to release coming closer and closer, he kept her held as he motioned to make a move.

Pulling out at the last possible moment, he thrusted himself atop her chest, allowing his pecker to land between her bound hands, one last sensitive motion that caused him to unleash his seed across her face.

Sawira looked upon him with disgust, sputtering at the salty taste. “You're sick!”

Similarly, the orc dealing with Arria began to reach his own edge. Caressing the luscious thighs of the bronze-skinned rogue as he came, a shuddering wave of white liquid flooding over her ass.

For many hours they'd continue like this, relentlessly plowing their new "wives", greedily focused on only sating themselves upon their delicious bodies.

As day turned to night, the orcs finally finished with their captives, slumped over and exhausted in the middle of the chief's longhouse.

“Good, you managed to keep up”, the chief remarked, having assessed their efforts. “Not many women can go with an orc and remain conscious”.

“You'll make perfect wives for the hold”, as if praising them for serving as his victims, he smiled at them. “Have them dressed in their new clothes, then see them to their 'quarters'.”

As the warchief ordered, Arria and Sawira were dressed up in old rags before being tossed into their cell.

The door slammed shut and the old lock tripped with a rusty click, as if to cement their imprisonment here.

Tentatively enemies of a sort, either girl found their own spot in the hut, finding their own way to get some respite for the long ordeal they were suffering through. Ultimately, however, their attention would drift towards the door, the sealed gateway to freedom.

The blonde-haired elf spent some of the time mulling over something, but soon began eyeing the rogue across from her. With a heavy sigh, she spoke. “We need to get out of here”, she said strictly.

“That's the easy part”, Arria told her, rather surprised that the elf was sharing words with her given how they parted ways. "All we really need there is patience".

“The real question is”, she turned to look Sawira in the eye. “Can we trust each other?”, a somewhat obvious question given the tension between the two.

Sawira pondered for a moment, but knew her answer. “Right now I think we can both agree that neither of us likes being an orc toy”, her tone was strict, but not as harsh as usual.

Arria smiled. “Alright, then here's what we need to do...”, for the next few hours a plan formed on the lips of the two girls, passed on light whispers into the night.

The next morning the captives girls were dragged out of the hut for their first proper day as slave wives of the stronghold.

Feeling paraded, there were three orcs ogling their largely exposed bodies, all the while murmuring about the work they would be assisting with.

“...she seems like the feistier of the two”, said the orichalcum-clad orc, explaining to his companion about the two.

“Hrm, then I'll take the redhead, less trouble on the watch the better”.

“If she's a fighter, then she'll be good around the forge! Good!”, said the orcish blacksmith, his eyes drinking in Sawira's supply curves.

Following the hooded orsimer, Arria had plenty of time to assess the stronghold sprawling before her. Escape without a plan would be sheer foolishness. Excusing the fact that she and Sawira had little in the way of energy, outrunning warriors armed to the teeth would be more trouble than it was worth.

If that wasn't enough, the walls of the stronghold were patrolled by trained archers, their eyes, their bows, cleanly honed on the treeline of the camp.

Though the far side of the stronghold lacked walls, it made up for it by having natural fortifications, its position was elevated, reachable only by a bridge from the main part of the hold. Though she may have been tempted to make a leap from its edge...

...The gruesome aftermath of previous attempts made it clear the idea was little more than folly. So the girls would bide their time, 'helping' the orcs as they bade.

“Alright lass, you'll be helpin' me with the forge work, I have the perfect thing in mind”, the forgemaster explained vaguely what his plan for Sawira was, using the cart beside him as a more visual indicator.

She watched him, uncertain on just what he'd need her to do.

But the answer would be obvious once she cottoned on to that look in his eyes.

He forced her over the smithing table, stripping off his armour with relative ease. His hand straddled his cock while his eyes drunk deep of the elf's beautiful body.

“That's right, shake that rump for me”, taking her skirt from her, the first thing he made her do was entice him with the view. Glowering at him, Sawira nonetheless complied with his demands, swaying from side to side with her slick honeypot ripe for the taking.

With an invitation so enticing, it wasn't long before the forgemaster took Sawira, roughly pressing his cock into her honeypot. With a motion so sudden, the elven warrioress couldn't help but let out a shameful moan.

That shame turned to anger quickly, the elven vampire gritting her teeth hard as the orc began to rut fiercely, taking great pleasure in watching her body press against the table.

Taking her top, and pulling her closer, the orc plunged his cock deep into that soaking little cavity, eliciting rough cries from Sawira. The cacophony of sex soon brought the forgemaster to climax, but the elf's pale supple body would force him to start round two soon enough.

Elsewhere, Arria had been dragged up to the hold's watchtower, a glorified decoration as she sat there watching the orc work. She waited with trepidation for the inevitable event when the orc went for her.

An event that came sooner than later. The grizzled hunter tore her rags from her body and forced her against a nearby chair, wasting no time as he thrust his raging member into her tight honeypot.

Back and forth, he roughly hammered her sex, her breasts bouncing as they smacked against the head of the chair which she gripped for dear life, trying to find a place of balance.

“Up!”, he commanded, forcing the imperial to lift herself before he clung to her hips, pulling her down on his turgid member.

There, the rutting continued as he pressed ever deeper into Arria's canal. The intrepid rogue doing all she could to stifle a moan, but her fight only made him harder.

Thus the pace of their days in Narzulbur were set. Arria and Sawira would be tossed off to whichever orc for the day, where they would be little more than glorified excuses to sate the insatiable hunger of the men.

They endured, and as time passed, they began to find just what they needed.

“Hmm”, Sawira mused, spying the loot from the tomb, complete with the gear taken from Arria and herself. Probably waiting to be moved deeper into the mine, she wondered.

“Eyes front, girl”, the orc stated, taking note to press her towards their destination.

Which just so happened to be a part of the mine replete with ebony ore, and orcs in much need of a breather from their hard work day.

“Its about time you got here!”, exclaimed one of the two. “Startin' to think we'd never get our turn!”

“She's all yours boys, make sure to treat her right”, said the orc guard. Sawira could only muster a look of incredulity, nothing they'd do would be 'right'.

A fact they made clear themselves with their raucous laughter. “Oh, we'll do her just as she deserves alright”.

Their advances started more as incessant bullying, forcefully pushing Sawira around as they poked at her with their erect shafts. Struggle as she might, she knew she wasn't getting away, however.

She reacted with quiet reservation as the yellow-marked orc nipped at her flowerpot with his fingers, slowly parting her lips before thrusting several digits inside.

He was four fingers deep before she broke down, letting out a painful moan. All the while the other orc held her back, keeping her from doing anything to stop them.

Satisfied with her cries, they stopped toying with the elven adventuress and threw themselves at her. One forced his cock down her throat, the other taking her prepared, moistening pussy.

Trapped between them, Sawira could do little more than endure her suffering, even as they came painfully close to choking her, not stopping for anything as they rutted like beasts.

Eventually they'd let her go, leaving her marked with the stains of their climax. The elf left to stew in exhaustion, her eyes a glimmering glare, until the guard returned for her.

Just as often as Arria and Sawira spied something that would become key to their plan, there would be times where they'd have to serve the orcs for little more than their own amusement.

One such night saw one of the more drunk-prone kin hunting after Arria, pinning her against a wall.

And as the brand on her chest began to take on a more ominous hue, it was clear just what he wanted.

He wasted no time relieving Arria of her delicates, exposing her beautiful bubble butt and her tight slit hidden beneath.

He ripped her top from her before forcing his turgid spear betwixt her parting lips, pressing her hard against the wall of the hut as he began to move.

For the next few hours, the orc mated with Arria furiously. As the sun slowly receded beyond the clouds, he stopped for nothing. A seemingly endless thirst that couldn't be slaked.

That was, until, he procured a cry from Arria, breaking her silence at the end of their session, screaming in frustration and humiliation.

The orc's peers not to be outdone, beset her in number the following morning, intent on showing her what the warriors had over the drunkard. Like rabid beasts they pounced on her, fondling at her sacred places, constricting her movement as best they could.

Then they ravaged her, taking their turns filling her holes with their rough cocks, defiling her body with each load pumped into her. Forced to pleasure them as they saw fit.

They wouldn't just fill her with their seed, they'd bathe her in it. Keep her in place as they reached climax again and again.

But through it all, Arria remained defiant. Her eyes alight with a fire they couldn't extinguish, her sights set on something just out of reach.

But when they inevitably tired themselves out, she'd claim her prize. Another piece of the puzzle.

The next such piece of that puzzle was a weapon, which the duo happened to find in the forgewife's hut. Before Sawira could claim it, however, the pair were spotted by a passing warrior.

“What's goin' on here?”, he asked accusingly.

“The forgewife is having us clean up here”, Arria told him hastily, though the fact that she wasn't confrontational as usual was a dead giveaway.

“I don't think so, get out of that hut, now!”, he commanded.

Sawira, reacting with shock, slowly turned his way.

“She's right, we haven't done anything”, as bleak as things looked, she had little choice but to play his game.

“Hahahaha, no, no, you're coming with me”, the orc, clearly had motives for this matter.

With the blonde-haired elf in tow, the orc entered the warchief's longhouse, forcing the elf to her knees before him.

“Caught this one trying to steal a knife”, he explained.

“I see”, the chief responded, curious. “And the other one?”

“Submissive as always, not even any barbs on her tongue this time. I threw her back in the cell”, the orc recounted.

The reality of the situation, however, was a little more measured. Knowing this was her chance, Arria had started picking at the locks on her chains...

“Throw her to the men”, the chief commanded. The warrior responded positively, leaving to fulfill his orders.

“You and I will be spending a lot of time together”, he said turning his attention to Sawira, who looked back at him in grimace.

Stripping of his helmet and weapons, and her of her clothes, the chief hoisted Sawira up, dragging her to his quarters. She kicked, and struggled, but couldn't wrest herself from his grasp.

“You bastard!”, she yelled defiant.

The chief catapulted the elf onto his bed, roughly tossing her from his shoulders. She glowered back at him, a sight that could kill lesser men. This only excited him further.

“Yes, that's the look!”, he praised, stroking at his beard, drinking in the vision of her perfect figure.

“You'll make a good wife”, he mused, clearly intent on something.

Soon they were stripped, and the chief would mount his new wife as was his custom. Unable to resist him physically, Sawira doubled down on the emotional approach, refusing to give him a single rise from her. It was like fuel to the fire for him, as his ever hardening member could attest.

Meanwhile, under the cover of a looming night, Arria had made her move. With the key she had previously stolen, the cell was freely opened, allowing her to sneak off as soon as she saw her chance.

The warrior sent to take her from that place had found himself pinned to the wall, a dagger through his throat. The one he'd caught them stealing hadn't been the first the two women had claimed. A painful lesson he'd learned on top of his misplaced assumptions that the rogue was anything less than a fighter.

The redheaded maiden made a beeline for the mines, sneaking past guards and workers to find the loot that Sawira had told her of. There, her armour and weapons awaited, which she quickly garbed herself in.

Deeper in the cave there was an old hatch the two had found, it fed into the wilds just outside of the camp, and in preparation for today, the lock had already been broken.

Arria's freedom was only a few steps away...

And yet for the second time since she'd met her, the thief mulled over the idea of going back for her.

“This had better be worth it”, she said aloud, making a decision with her usual headstrong haste.

The orc chief rammed his cock into Sawira with powerful, heavy thrusts. Moving like a relentless piston as his eyes fixated on her swaying breasts. He breathed heavy with purpose, not only seeking to mate, but to breed the blonde-haired warrioress.

So enraptured was he with his lovemaking that he failed to notice the sounds of shuffling behind him.

Nor the sound of a sword sliding from its sheath. Too late to catch it, the chieftain was ultimately helpless when Arria's blade thrust through him, soaked in orc blood.

Equal parts shock and surprise hit Sawira as the furs surrounding her splattered with blood and a sword suddenly loomed before her eyes, but as the orc chieftain's motion froze, she realised what happened.

Getting her removed from under him, the duo looked over the grisly scene of Arria's 'rescue'.

“Did you have to put a sword right through him?”, Sawira argued, her mind still abuzz from what she'd witnessed.

“Does it matter? He's dead, you're free”, the redhead replied, amused.

After a short wait, Sawira entered the main room redressed in her armour, which Arria had brought with her. As well, the relic that started this whole mess rested in her grasp.

“Oh, that's what took you so long”, remarked Arria, surprised to see the staff at all.

“It seemed only right we get it after all of this”, Sawira replied, though she was fully intent on keeping the item for herself, still wary of Arria's original trickery.

“Come on, let's get out of here”, the rogue told her, a request Sawira was happy to oblige at last.

Using the tunnel in the mines, the duo managed to escape the stronghold into the night. From there they traveled together well into Skyrim's wilds, until they were both certain that they wouldn't be pursued.

Stopping in a small clearing, the feeling of parting had welled up in them both.

“So this is it”, Sawira stated vaguely.

“Yeah, looks like this is where we go our separate ways”, Arria returned.

“Well, this was certainly something”, Arria mused, cheerful. “Maybe we'll run into each other again, in less... stabby circumstances.”

“I've never had someone get me into, and then out of, trouble”, Sawira remarked, letting out a light chuckle. “I don't think I'll forget you, Arria.”

The pair had said their quaint farewells, then drifted down differing paths.

It was only sometime later that Sawira began to feel as if something was amiss...

As she patted herself down, the realisation dawned on her.

“The relic!”, she cried, but instead of frustration, an amused smile worked its way onto her cheeks.

“That thieving Imperial...”, Sawira remarked, knowing exactly where that staff had ended up.

Hot damn this was a long one, hah, and if I didn’t manage to get sick at the same time tumblr decided to kill all NSFW blogs, it would’ve been even longer.

162 images, a collaboration with @miniseka and their lovely babe Sawira.

This’ll be, perhaps, my last major piece here on tumblr, but not for good, you can find this set and other works on my flickr, linked here: https://flic.kr/s/aHsmwZA3Z1 You can also find me on twitter, where I’ll be updating when I have new content available, here: https://twitter.com/desvati