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ANNOUNCEMENTS: UPDATED 12/16/2017

Happy Holidays, fellow Kinkmemers! I have returned and have no reasonable excuse for my absence except LIFE. I will be working on updating the archives. If anyone sees anything amiss, please let me know.

I am also hoping to find another Mod and an Archivist.

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Never Our Tenderness (F!/DB Imperial/Ulfric Stormcloak) – 4a/?

[(Anonymous)]

She stood still within the circle of his arms, her cheek pressed against the warm, hard wall that was his chest.

For a moment, it was as if time stilled. They stood in this mockery of a lover’s pose for what seemed an eternity, until she felt the snap of her bindings loosen as the last coil of rope was wrestled free.

The small sound sent a rush of adrenaline coursing through her blood, snapping her to her senses.

She was fast, and agile, and despite her preference for weaponry she could be quite lethal at close range. Her small size had long ago taught her the value of using the enemy’s sluggish weight to her advantage.

A simple twist of her body, a jerk of her knee to his intimates, would give her the split second she needed to free her Voice from its cage.

Except that it didn’t.

Because he wasn’t where he was supposed to be. For such a large man he was surprisingly agile.

Her momentum, not meeting with the target she had expected, put her off balance. She might have regained her feet, but found her own legs were swept from beneath her.

She hit the floor hard, her head slamming back, a sharp crack of sound and pain. The brute followed her down. Frantic, she reached quickly to remove her gag, but he anticipated her, again, using his entire weight to keep her still as he pinned her arms above her head, one of his large hands enough to capture both her wrists in a vise-like grip.

She felt dizzy, knowing she should relax her limbs and give herself a moment to get her frenzied breathing under control, but this seemed impossible a task. Blood rushed through her ears as she struggled to breathe through her nose, and with each shallow, quick breath she inhaled the spice of recently soaped skin, and a darker scent that was distinctly male.

He pressed his lips to her neck, a scorching line of heat against that delicate skin. She felt his words as much as she heard them.

“A third attempt upon me this day. Do you yet beg for repayment?”

He nipped at this sensitive skin in gentle imitation of her earlier cruel bite, the scrape of his teeth sending a burst of responsive, unwanted heat to curl dangerously low in her belly.

His hands, those large warm hands she now regretted admiring, were pushing up under the hem of her tunic, already bunched around her waist. It was one of the small items Erdi had been able to smuggle her after she had been stripped of armor and all possessions. She wore nothing else underneath, only the silky fabric of his robe providing a thin and useless barrier at the point where his hips nestled firmly in the soft cradle of her own.

She felt his growing hardness there, where he pressed so tightly against her, and she struggled in earnest against him as the heat of his hands pushed up to expose her belly.

When she felt cold air caress her breasts, she dug her heels into the floor, hips rising, back arching, anything to dislodge the weight of him, a rush of heated panic coursing through her limbs. Some part of her knew that struggling against him in such a position would likely only serve to stroke his lust, but she felt cornered and trapped and itching and hot and she could not remain unmoving beneath him.

“Be still, woman.” The command was harshly given, snapping her to attention like the crack of a whip, but it was not enough to stop her struggles.

They were to no avail, superior strength worked in his favor, and her tunic was pulled up and over her head with a few simple yanks, leaving her naked and heaving beneath him.

His mouth found her ear, his own breathing surprisingly harsh, his voice pitched barely above a low growl. “When I take you for the first time, Dragon of the North, it will not be a rutting on the floor.”

His oppressive weight lifted, and she was hauled to her feet, spun to face the bed. He stood close behind her, ran his hands down the length of her bare arms, and before she could even shiver in response he deftly tied her hands in front of her with the soft, thick fabric that was nothing more than simple belt.

But it proved an able, if unconventional, form of binding.

She stood there, trembling, like a freshly broken colt just brought under saddle.

Uncertain of freedoms stolen, waiting for further attempts at domination with a wary spirit not yet tamed.