"You're a fast learner, I like that," Mercer chuckled. His compliment sent a shiver of pleasure up Nessa's spine. Mercer had never said anything positive to her before. He ran his fingers along her jaw, caressing her as he pushed strands of hair that had fallen loose of her braid. "Unbuckle your top." When Nessa opened her mouth, he shushed her by placing one finger over her lips. "No questions. Just obey."
The young Nord's fingers felt as fat and useless as sausages as she fumbled with her buckles. It felt like there were ten million of the damn things as she awkwardly loosened each one. Finally, after what seemed a millennium, the Thieves' Guild armor fell open to reveal her full breasts.
"Very nice," Mercer commented as he touched her left nipple. The darker skin hardened immediately as he brushed against it. "At least your body is mature."
"What is that supposed to mean?" Nessa pouted. A glance from Mercer quickly made her add, "Guildmaster."
"Please don't act like you're not aware of the cute little girl act," Mercer snorted. His voice shifted into a high pitched falsetto. "'Oh, Brynjolf, please let me help you with that. I don't mind at all.'" His normal sneer returned. "It's enough to make me sick."
It was impossible for Nessa to meet Mercer's gaze. He was inches from her and his grey eyes bore into her relentlessly, but any time she tried to return it she found her eyes sliding away. "It's not an act, sir," she mumbled.
She lost her breath when he cupped each breast in one hand as he stepped close enough to press his leg between hers. Her nipples were rock hard between the cool Ratway air and Mercer's fingers rubbing them. "I suppose it's not," he conceded, "but it should be. You should be wielding that sweet, innocent air about you as a weapon against your enemies."
"I only have friends, Master Frey," Nessa gasped. Mercer's leg was grinding against her sex, making it hard to think.
"Thieves don't have friends," Mercer countered, "and anyone one fool enough to believe otherwise deserves whatever they get." He snarled. "Brynjolf and his ridiculous ideas about the 'noble thief' have half ruined this Guild." His hot breath warmed Nessa's cool skin as he ran his lips over her neck until he reached her shoulder. "We lie, we cheat, we steal." His lips gave a quick kiss before his teeth bit the skin lightly. "We take."
Nessa could only moan as the Breton rubbed against her. His hands were everywhere – her breasts, her hips, her hair, even inside her pants. She gasped as his deft fingers slid into her folds revealing exactly how wet she was from his touch. Her eyes widened in awe when Mercer withdrew his fingers and licked the slickness slowly away.
"Why do you steal, Nessa?" Mercer asked. His hands were in her hair now, petting and pulling. Her braids had fallen completely apart leaving her golden locks free.
This was the first time the Guildmaster had ever addressed her by name. It would have been a huge shock if Nessa wasn't already in mental breakdown from him molesting her.
"To survive, Guildmaster," she stammered. "I was hungry."
Nessa could still remember the first time she had stolen. It had been from Marise Aravel's meat stall. She had taken a small slice of ham while the Dunmer dealt with a customer. Nessa hadn't eaten in three days and she could no longer stand the persistent gnawing in her stomach.
She had been eleven.
"No wonder you have such lofty ideals," Mercer snorted. "Take from the rich and give to the poor, right? Save all the little orphans?"
That struck too close to home. Nessa had grown up in Honorhall Orphanage. Grelod the Kind had thought herself the soul of generosity when she gave the children a loaf of bread on New Life Day. To share. One loaf of bread to feed five children.
"I had to," Nessa said defensively. "Not all of us have the luxury to steal because we want to."
"Don't presume you know me, girl," Mercer hissed. His hand tightened in her hair, pulling hard. "And don't forget my title."
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timeasmymeasure
Virtue of Pleasure 4/?
Date: 2013-04-12 05:28 am (UTC)"You're a fast learner, I like that," Mercer chuckled. His compliment sent a shiver of pleasure up Nessa's spine. Mercer had never said anything positive to her before. He ran his fingers along her jaw, caressing her as he pushed strands of hair that had fallen loose of her braid. "Unbuckle your top." When Nessa opened her mouth, he shushed her by placing one finger over her lips. "No questions. Just obey."
The young Nord's fingers felt as fat and useless as sausages as she fumbled with her buckles. It felt like there were ten million of the damn things as she awkwardly loosened each one. Finally, after what seemed a millennium, the Thieves' Guild armor fell open to reveal her full breasts.
"Very nice," Mercer commented as he touched her left nipple. The darker skin hardened immediately as he brushed against it. "At least your body is mature."
"What is that supposed to mean?" Nessa pouted. A glance from Mercer quickly made her add, "Guildmaster."
"Please don't act like you're not aware of the cute little girl act," Mercer snorted. His voice shifted into a high pitched falsetto. "'Oh, Brynjolf, please let me help you with that. I don't mind at all.'" His normal sneer returned. "It's enough to make me sick."
It was impossible for Nessa to meet Mercer's gaze. He was inches from her and his grey eyes bore into her relentlessly, but any time she tried to return it she found her eyes sliding away. "It's not an act, sir," she mumbled.
She lost her breath when he cupped each breast in one hand as he stepped close enough to press his leg between hers. Her nipples were rock hard between the cool Ratway air and Mercer's fingers rubbing them. "I suppose it's not," he conceded, "but it should be. You should be wielding that sweet, innocent air about you as a weapon against your enemies."
"I only have friends, Master Frey," Nessa gasped. Mercer's leg was grinding against her sex, making it hard to think.
"Thieves don't have friends," Mercer countered, "and anyone one fool enough to believe otherwise deserves whatever they get." He snarled. "Brynjolf and his ridiculous ideas about the 'noble thief' have half ruined this Guild." His hot breath warmed Nessa's cool skin as he ran his lips over her neck until he reached her shoulder. "We lie, we cheat, we steal." His lips gave a quick kiss before his teeth bit the skin lightly. "We take."
Nessa could only moan as the Breton rubbed against her. His hands were everywhere – her breasts, her hips, her hair, even inside her pants. She gasped as his deft fingers slid into her folds revealing exactly how wet she was from his touch. Her eyes widened in awe when Mercer withdrew his fingers and licked the slickness slowly away.
"Why do you steal, Nessa?" Mercer asked. His hands were in her hair now, petting and pulling. Her braids had fallen completely apart leaving her golden locks free.
This was the first time the Guildmaster had ever addressed her by name. It would have been a huge shock if Nessa wasn't already in mental breakdown from him molesting her.
"To survive, Guildmaster," she stammered. "I was hungry."
Nessa could still remember the first time she had stolen. It had been from Marise Aravel's meat stall. She had taken a small slice of ham while the Dunmer dealt with a customer. Nessa hadn't eaten in three days and she could no longer stand the persistent gnawing in her stomach.
She had been eleven.
"No wonder you have such lofty ideals," Mercer snorted. "Take from the rich and give to the poor, right? Save all the little orphans?"
That struck too close to home. Nessa had grown up in Honorhall Orphanage. Grelod the Kind had thought herself the soul of generosity when she gave the children a loaf of bread on New Life Day. To share. One loaf of bread to feed five children.
"I had to," Nessa said defensively. "Not all of us have the luxury to steal because we want to."
"Don't presume you know me, girl," Mercer hissed. His hand tightened in her hair, pulling hard. "And don't forget my title."