Day 22 - Master/ - Skyrim

Larghbur listened to the whispers of the shaman woman before grunting and turning to the pair with a face like he’d just stepped in manure. Lydia got the worst of it, but there was a special sort of contempt for Dolrusk.

“You’re lucky the priestess seems to like you,” Larghbur commented with a voice surprisingly devoid of emotion, considering his expression. “Normally we wouldn’t allow a City Orc into the stronghold, and we especially wouldn’t allow a human in.”

He reached back and pounded on the gate two times with his fist. The wooden wall creaked open just a sliver. The shaman bowed her head before stepping inside, in exchange, an orc from inside the stronghold stepped out carrying a length of rope. He eyed Dolrusk’s mage robes and spat to one side, then scowled at Lydia the same as Larghbur. His fist tightened around the rope.

“We thank you for allowing us-” Dolrusk started. At the tone of his diplomatic, educated voice, the orc with the rope spat again.

“Here’s the deal,” Larghbur took the rope and presented it to Dolrusk. “So far as we’re concerned, you’re the priestess’s problem. You want dinner? She feeds you, we don’t. You want a place to rest for the night? You sleep in her cabin, not the barracks. You want to cast spells or brew potions, you do it in her house, not where any of us can see you.”

“That’s fine,” Dolrusk started testily, “We’re just going to-”

“And one other thing. Keep your human servant on a leash so long as you’re in the stronghold.” Larghbur snorted. “If we see her running around without it, we’re going to treat her like an invader.”

“My servant?” Dolrusk sputtered and turned to Lydia. Her face was mostly expressionless, not giving him any read on her reaction, though the slightest hint of a grin was teasing her lips.

“If she’s taking orders from an ugly little milk-drinker like you, she’s either your servant or your whore,” Larghbur sneered. “I picked the more polite word.”

Dolrusk looked down at the rope in his hands for a second and then over to Lydia. She still wasn’t giving anything away, though her grin had grown a little more. Her sword was sheathed and her shield draped over her back, but she was looking at him with the same sort of challenging expression she would have given if he’d just charged her to a fight. Dolrusk handed her the rope.

“Well,” He cleared his throat. “You heard the man.”

“Oh no, master,” Lydia pushed his hand back and adopted a voice sweet as honey but thick with sneering sarcasm. She smiled ear to ear without it reaching her eyes. “I really think you should put it on me yourself. After all, how could you trust your human servant to tie it properly?”

He gave her an apologetic look that only seemed to amuse her more. Dolrusk grimaced and picked a rock big enough that standing on it would let him reach her neck. Despite his being an orc, Lydia had probably had bad moods bigger and scarier than he was. Her neck was thick enough that he had to lean forward like he was hugging her to get the rope around and under her dark hair. She was also wearing head-to-toe steel armor and carrying traveling supplies that likely outweighed him when put together. And he was both thin and slightly pudgy under his robes, while every time her body was exposed it seemed like she had grown new and more impressive muscles.

Still, he slipped the rope around his housecarl’s neck. All the while she kept looking at him with the exact same amused expression. He half-expected her to suddenly try to throw him or grapple him, to assert dominance in front of the orcs. It would have been a mistake, but it also would have been a very Lydia mistake to make. Instead, she took it. Obedient and passive as a well-trained dog. When he pulled the leash tight and tugged her behind him, the sight of an undersized orc yanking along his nord bodyguard on a leash probably would have been extremely amusing to anybody who didn’t have firm beliefs in the supremacy of mer over men. As he led her through the camp to the shaman’s house, nobody laughed.

***

The shaman had overblown both the difficulty of the ritual and the need for ingredients in her letter, though she also had the far harder part of it to perform. With everything gathered, the priestess had moved out deep into the woods, where she would stay the night communing with the spirits. She had offered Dolrusk and Lydia her cabin for the night, though she probably didn’t have… that… in mind. When she had seen Lydia on a leash the first time, she’d made a noise of approval.

Lydia, who hadn’t spoken during the conversation with the shaman - not because of any sense of servant propriety, simply because she was about as interested in magic as she was in making out with a Falmer - had let her heavy sword and shield rest against the wall of the shaman’s cabin. She was starting to undo some of the latches and buckles of her even heavier armor when Dolrusk cleared his throat apprehensively. She looked up from the chair she was sitting and stared directly at him.

“You know, we could… move on.” He looked at Lydia, but didn’t look her in the eye. “We don’t have to spend the night here.”

“Oh no, master,” Lydia gleefully rolled the word on her tongue like a child with a newfound piece of profanity. “I think it’s too late to set out again now. We didn’t pack bedrolls, after all.”

“You don’t have to call me that,” Dolrusk wasn’t telling Lydia anything she didn’t know.

“But I’m doing it because it’s so fun, master,” Lydia’s face was gleefully contemptuous. “And I wouldn’t want to go against the Orcish customs-”

“Look, I’m sorry,” Dolrusk grimaced. “Had I known…”

“I’m not mad at you, idiot,” The anger left Lydia’s voice. “I’ve been around Orcs before, strongholds too. You know the reason they’re so much more hostile to outside women than they are to men?”

“I’m not from a stronghold,” Dolrusk admitted sheepishly.

“It’s not because they see nordic men as their barrel-chested equals, I’ll tell you that.” Lydia set her chestplate down and rolled her neck uncomfortably. “It’s because when you let an outsider woman in, all of the orcish men start staring. Then all the orcish women get angry.”

“Surely that’s not the only thing-” Dolrusk started, stopping himself when he realized that it was dumb to argue.

“Maybe not the only thing, but the biggest thing,” Lydia leaned back and stretched her shoulders. “Easiest way to see an orc beg? It’s not beating him in combat, it’s trading with one of their outposts as a good-looking woman.”

“You think orcish women are that undesirable?” Dolrusk joked.

“I think orcish women are plenty attractive to orcs, and a few special cases. An acquired taste.” Lydia reached down and started unfastening her boots. “I just think us nordic women are a more popular flavor.”

“Don’t let it go to your head or anything,” Dolrusk teased as he sat down on the bed.

“I wouldn’t dream of it, master,” Lydia started to grin again. “But, if we stay here long enough, don’t be surprised if you get challenged for ownership of me.”

“You think they’ll take issue with me using magic instead of my fists?” He tried not to look down Lydia’s loose top as she bent forward to remove her boots. Tried and failed.

“I’d be more worried about one of them knocking you out while you have your back turned.” Lydia looked up and caught him staring, shifted her top with a smirk, then went back to removing her boots. She hadn’t actually shifted it in a way that covered anything. “Then I guess they’d just… carry me off to the breeding pits or whatever the stronghold uses.”

“That’s not funny,” Dolrusk blushed.

“Oh come off it,” Lydia caught him staring again and put his head under her arm, rubbing her knuckles roughly against his scalp. “As if there’s any world where I’m the one in more danger here than you are.”

“You really think so?” He asked when he had his neck free from her armpit again.

“You heard how they talked about you at the gate.” Lydia finished unlatching her boots and casually tossed them against her shield, where they clanged like an anvil being struck. “I don’t think there’s all that much solidarity among greenskins here. You’re a scrawny kid with a cool toy to most of them.”

“I’m not sure how I feel about that term,” Dolrusk gave a performatively offended look, then frowned. “We really could spend the night somewhere else.”

“Nah, I’m not worried about it.” Lydia walked over to a bucket of clean water and rinsed her face quickly, then dabbed some of it under her arms. “Your **** will protect you, master. I’ll even tuck you into bed if it makes you feel safer.”

“I’m never living this down,” Dolrusk laid back on the bed and grumbled.

“No, the fuck you aren’t,” Lydia sat down on the bed and pulled one of his boots off before adding a performative “Master.”

“What are you doing-” Dolrusk raised his head as Lydia wrenched his other shoe off. “Will you quit undressing me?”

“Oh no, master,” Lydia started to untie the belt of his robes, as she did, she tossed him the loose end of the rope which was still tied around her neck. “I did say I would tuck you in, didn’t I?”

“Cut that out!” Dolrusk yelped as Lydia started to pull at his robes while also trying to **** the bed’s fur blanket over his head.

Lydia chuckled and pinned him easily. She had dressed down to a sleeveless cotton shirt and baggy pair of short legged pants. Even just in that, without her armor, she was an intimidating sight. Thick neck and rounded muscular shoulders, bulky arms and legs, broad barrel chest and wide hips. Half-laughing, she would pin one of his arms down away from his stomach while working the ties of his robes, or lean on his chest and make it difficult to breathe while she pried. There wasn’t a world where he overpowered her in a fair fight. When he would start to squeal, she would clamp a powerful, leathery-smelling hand over his mouth, or worse, push her dirty, broken nails between his lips. As it went on, her laugh became increasingly snorting and full-bodied, around the same time that his resistance started getting weaker. When she finally got his robes open, she was nearly doubled with laughter.

“Come on master,” She leaned on him and rode out his occasional writhing, “Let your **** get you nice and ready for bed.”

“I can’t sleep if you’re crushing me,” Dolrusk responded weakly.

“Don’t think of it as crushing you, master,” Lydia climbed into bed and dropped her hips down on his waist, grabbing his arms and pushing them away from his chest, then pulling his robes open with her teeth. Letting his arms free, she lifted her cotton shirt up over her neck and slid it off of the rope. Her round breasts were pale atop the tanned - as tanned as you got in Skyrim, anyway - musculature of her stomach. “How better to protect you than to stay close by? We can even share body warmth”

“Close by?” He scoffed.

“Couldn’t be much closer, could I?” Lydia mused as she snatched the loose end of the rope from his hand. Grabbing him by the cheek, she maneuvered it under his neck and around the other side, then tied it in a much firmer knot around his neck than he’d tied hers. “Practically inseparable.”

Before Dolrusk could respond, Lydia leaned back, putting her hands on either side of his feet and rolling her hips, leaning with most of her weight. Dolrusk yelped and grabbed the rope with both hands as Lydia pulled him sitting upright, then leaned forward again and dropped him back on the bed. She hovered her face just above his, black hair cascading down around them like a curtain. She grinned playfully. He could feel her brown nipples hard against his chest and her breasts soft around them.

“You’re not exactly making it easier to sleep,” He grumbled lightly.

“Oh, forgive me master,” She sat back up and wiggled her hips as she pressed a hand to her forehead, “I’ve been shirking my duties. Perhaps I should go back to tucking you in.”

Lydia slid one and then the other of his arms out of his robes, leaving him bare chested underneath her. She set her head down over his head and shimmied her hips, well aware of what she was shimmying them over. Dolrusk’s heart was beating quickly, and she looked up with fake concern.

“Your heart is beating out of your chest! Why master, you must have been terrified.” She squeezed his cheeks in her hands and wiggled her hips again. “Don’t worry, your **** will check for threats.”

“Lydia…” Dolrusk mumbled through his squished cheeks.

Her hips were aligned in such a way that she definitely could feel him getting hard, so when Lydia rolled to the side - propping herself up with an elbow just lightly enough on his chest to pin him down - her other hand immediately tracked down. Past his chest and over the hair of his belly, down into where his robes were still tucked protectively up around his crotch. She fumbled under the sheets in fake ignorance for a moment before groping him through the fabric.

“What’s this?” Lydia purred, “Some kind of weapon? You aren’t hurt, are you, master?”

“Lydia-” Dolrusk repeated, but as soon as he opened his mouth her hand shot into his robes and her hand gripped his cock firmly.

“Hm,” Lydia narrowed her eyes like she was focusing. “Feels like… some swelling. Some kind of venom, perhaps? Do I need to suck it out?”

She started to manhandle him under his robes, rubbing the head of his cock back and forth against the fabric as she pumped her wrist. Dolrusk squirmed and murmured. Lydia finished pulling the robes around his crotch open and looked down at her white hand around his pale green shaft. He was large enough that it made her hand look… well not small… but certainly more average than it was. She pulled the skin back from his head and traced the tip of her forefinger against the underside where he was most sensitive. As he sucked in his breath and shuddered, Lydia propped herself more up. Leaning over across his body and blocking his view, leaving him to look at her cascading dark hair and shoulder blades flexing through a field of scars and muscle.

“Well look at this,” Lydia started to pump his cock idly with her rough hand as she tossed her hair. “No wonder you couldn’t sleep.”

As he tried to speak, she took her hand away and spat loudly into it, then started to grind her wet palm against his tip, making him loudly gasp. When she started to pump again, Dolrusk could feel his balls clenching.

“Don’t worry, master,” Lydia declared much too loudly and much too proudly, “Your human **** can take care of this.”

Her hand started to pump him more rapidly, the other idly scratching the hair around his navel. Dolrusk reached out to grab her breast around her arm, but she shrugged his hand away. Leaning back until she was laying across him, nearly-crushing him, Lydia gave a performative yawn and scratched under one of her breasts, other hand still pumping up and down his shaft.

“Hm,” She reached into her shorts and rubbed herself for a moment, then drew her fingers out and pushed them against his lips. “I think I caught your venom from touching it. Does this taste off to you?”

Dolrusk sputtered. Her fingers were slick with her own lust. That normally wasn’t a flavor he disliked, but her fingers were still dirty from the day’s work. At the sound of his sputtering, she snorted a laugh and shimmied out of her shorts. Sitting up and straddling his face with her pussy, grinding dark brown pubes against his nose and lips. Suddenly the taste, and the smell of her wetness, was strong enough it overpowered him. Lydia maneuvered the rope, tucking it under a knee so it was extra tight around his neck. What little, gasping breaths he could manage, he breathed right up into her cunt.

“Come on master,” Lydia leaned back and found his cock again with one of her hands. “I need to be sure. Really get in there.”

He flicked his tongue against Lydia’s sex before she decided to pull the rope tighter. She let out a sound halfway between a snort and a sigh as he found the sensitive nub of her clit and focused on it.

Lydia pulled the rope, not tighter but up more toward her, until Dolrusk’s head was between her legs enough that she could squeeze his ears between her powerful thighs. Blocking his hearing but for the occasional dull creak of muscle under skin. Blocking his taste and smell but for her sex. Blocking most of his sight but for a narrow tunnel view up between her legs past her tight stomach. Her face had turned slightly red, his was probably much redder.

There was an impatience to both of them. One that had popped up more than once before. Keeping Dolrusk’s face in her crotch would have been plenty fun for Lydia, same as pinning him down and jerking him off would have been fun for either and both of them. And certainly, Lydia had her streaky moments of taking an idea and running with it. But the thing about being in control, actually being in control like Lydia was, was that it meant you got to decide when the warmups were done. The other side of it was that you got to tell people when it was their turn to do the heavy lifting.

She loosened her thighs and let Dolrusk’s head bounce against the pillow. Then sat to the side of him on the bed and reeled the rope in toward her like she was fishing. Dolrusk sat up, then sat forward, Lydia guiding him into a position where he was between her legs and mounting her. He preferred the parts where she was on top - the one doing the work. But Lydia was also… well… a woman. She spoke of her desires in terms of being had and held, doted on and worked for. And, sometimes, underneath men smaller and weaker than she was.

Guiding the tip of his head against her slit, she wrapped the rope between them around her elbow and hand, until there was only a few inches between their faces that he could move. They kissed somewhat awkwardly around his tusks - one minor complication that they had never truly worked out. As he entered her, she gave a happy, singsong exhale. She loosened his leash and let him pull his head back, putting some more **** and leverage behind his thrusts. Dolrusk took it a step further and guided her more into a position like she was laying on her back. Lydia kept a firm grip on the rope, but let herself be moved. Adjusting to be more on top of her, he started to thrust down and in. Lifting her hips, she pressed her thighs around either side of his hips.

The laughter and the play stopped. This was the business of it. The line between foreplay and sex was blurry, the line between sex and fucking was not. As Dolrusk thrusted he panted, grunted with an open mouth near her ear. Lydia’s voice softened, raised slightly in pitch. She gave his leash an occasional tug to either lower his head down next to her ear or bring their lips together again. His hands kneaded her pale breasts. Their sweat mixed like it might muddle their hues.

Dolrusk’s thrusting faltered. He could sprint, but he lacked endurance. Something that had become clear while traveling with Lydia early on. She gave a grunt of frustration, completely unplayful, and pushed him onto his back. Pumping her hips up and down, dropping her weight onto him forcefully. She pulled his leash up toward her for a quick peck, but didn’t let it go again when their lips parted. Lydia’s face contorted in concentration, strands of black hair sticking to her forehead.

He couldn’t help it. Dolrusk cried out as his cock throbbed and burst inside of her. Lydia kept her hips pumping without more than a twitch of the eye as his seed flooded into her, gushing out around his cock as she thrust him in and out. After a moment, she picked up the pace, grunting loudly in exertion. As Dolrusk’s climax passed and his cock suddenly grew sensitive and overstimulated, he let out a ragged exhale that turned into a whimper. Lydia started to pant heavily, her voice rising in tone, pressure and anticipation building. Dolrusk was squirming, whining under his breath. He didn’t dare ask her to stop, but he wanted her to, badly.

Finally, she drove her hips down onto him hard and collapsed forward onto him, back heaving as her cunt clamped down and wrung him. Dolrusk wrapped his arms around her broad chest and held her close as she shuddered. It was still a too-warm, too-tight, intense feeling, but at least she wasn’t moving any more. As Lydia caught her breath and straightened up a bit, she kissed him and blew some hair out of her face. When she slid herself off of him, the head of his cock had turned almost cherry-red.

“I ever tell you that you have a great dick?” Lydia finally breathed shakily but evenly.

For the past several weeks, Dolrusk had been trying to match both his libido and his stamina to a woman who far surpassed him in both regards. While he was still trying to catch his breath and get the tingling out of his legs, he could usually look forward to a comment along the lines of him having a nice package or a cute face.

When he didn’t respond as fast as Lydia seemed to want, she reached down between his legs and grabbed the base of his shaft. Dolrusk squirmed. He wasn’t still hyper-sensitive, it wasn’t an unpleasant sensation, but the idea of getting Lydia going again was… intimidating.

“I could always get you hard again, master,” Lydia cooed mockingly. “If I failed to please you-”

“No, gods, please.” Dolrusk groaned. Lydia snorted and rested her head on his chest.

“Then your human **** will keep you warm while you sleep,” Lydia purred. “Oh great and mighty orc master.”

“Once we’re back in the city, I never want to hear you call me master again.” Dolrusk shuddered.

“Oh, but of course, my thane,” Lydia found the exact way to intone it that made his skin crawl. Then chuckled to herself.

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