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Meme Announcements!

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.

The more dedicated people we have in this Meme the less chance of it dying. I admit that being the sole keeper of the Meme is not great for the fandom. If something were to happen to me, for good, this place would go the way of the Fallout Kink Meme. Let's not let that happen! If anyone would be interested in Modding/Archiving, please drop me a line. Thanks! <3

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So if you talk to Cynric about his origins, he tells you that he used to be a jailbreaker, but stopped because he got caught and spent three years in a High Rock jail, and now he swears he'll never do time again.

Of course, having spent way too much time on this kink meme, my mind instantly went onto the smutty route. And so, dear authornons, I want to see what why Cynric is so adamant on avoiding prison. Namely, because the prison guards in High Rock had their way with him.

As the title says, either dub-con or non-con, please. Bonus for spanking, rough sex, multiple guards in him at once, and mild humiliation. No scat or permanent maiming, please.

Summary: Sometimes the luck of people runs dry at the most inappropriate times. In Cynric Endell's case, it was the worst time for Lady Luck to turn her back on the thief.

Kinks - non-con, double penetration, gangbang, oral, anal, cumshots, rough sex, humiliation, exhibition, public, forced orgasm, multiple partners, bondage, spanking, hair-pulling.

MPCs; race:Breton; race:Dunmer; race;Imperial; race;Bosmer; race: Redguard; es:Skyrim

Author's note: I've wrote this story for the new release of Thief, so I've renovated it to post it on here. This is just purely smut and, I'd say, during either a bad turn of a job Cynric has experienced.
Hope you all enjoy~

~*~*~

The hooded Breton grunts from his forced position - hands bound behind his back with his feet tied securely together, arse sticking promptly up in the air.

Cynric growled around the cloth stuffed into his mouth as a hand gripped the back then pulled down his thin leather trousers, exposing his ghost pale rump. His teeth tears at the gag, his burning dark eyes strained to glare at the bastards who dared ambush and restrain him.

A hand boldly lands on a porcelain cheek, testing out the succulent flesh in a rough, scratchy palm.

In no time there were multitudes of intrusive hands, ranging from small to large, petting and groping bare skin; thankfully his upper body was shielded by the dark leather and cloth of his gear.

The thief struggled more with his bounds as an oil-slicked finger encircles his back entrance before slinking past the strict ring of muscles. He hisses at the initial and growing burn. The fine-boned digit wriggles around before being joined by another, thrusting and scissoring and rubbing the insides of the thief. He realises with disdain albeit with slight relief that one of them was prepping him for what is to come.

A while later the mercenary was satisfied with his work after inserting and pumping all three of his fingers into the now slack hole, glistening in the warming glow of torches and shimmering sliver rays of the moon. Calloused grey hands took hold of his narrow hips, aligning them then pulling them towards another pair of lean hips. Cynric's rounded buttocks touched feverish damp and hot flesh, oddly a silky quality for a brute, tensing from the feel of the moist mushroom-head pressing into his anus.

It took one thrust for the Dunmer to be fully hilted within the bounded thief.

The rapist groans in pleasure at the divine heat and snugness enveloping his cock. Cynric groans in displeasure and outrage at being breached. After a few moments passed the bastard elf began to rock and roll his hips, grasping more at the waist of the fuming Breton.

Audible sounds of flesh slapping flesh emit from the rutting, grey against white, bouncing off the grimy walls of the dank alleyway. Gasps and moans and sighs spilled freely from the sell-sword whereas the thief's own guttural sounds were muffled by the sodden cloth.

Cynric was disgusted. The alien feel of something piston inside of him was gods awful. He felt like that jezebel of Haelga back in Riften; the thief knew from Rune that she offers her arse first to her numerous lovers, for the sake of being kinky.

His hood was ripped back then a hand grips his sweat-slick blonde hair, snapping his head back. Cynric grits his teeth in pain. The gag was removed, allowing him to breath through his freed mouth before it was partly stuffed with a rod of greasy rigid flesh. The thief retched after realising that it was another filthy cock from one of those mercenaries, a repulsive Imperial pig of one.

It was revolting.

A cuff to his ringing ear was all the warning the thief needed. The Breton did not bite down but refused to compromise any further as the horrid meat was wedged further in his reluctant hole. The only comfort he got was that the fat, pulsating thing was pitifully small in length; it only filled half of his mouth's capacity.

Sweaty, meaty, dirty hands comb through his hair before clamping down on his skull - trapping him entirely. His nose uncomfortably presses into the fatty tissue of the man's hairy paunch, smelling the odour of musky sweat and stale ale. The fat Imperial experimented by retracting himself until he left the bulbous tip between the lips, then eagerly pushing back into the wet and warm orifice. He sighs blissfully, shallowly bucking his flabby hips into the thief's delectable mouth.

It was surreal. He was fucked on both ends; one ramming his arse while the other humped his face.

If the thief's rage-clouding mind can rightly recall, there were three of them. It would explain the ghosting of fingers, the same ones that fingered his rectum for buggery, delicately tracing his exposed abdomen as if in admiration. The light caresses were parallel to the crass handling, bruising the flesh of his hips and head.

The mercenary behind put more strength and speed into his thrusts, clawing at the thief's slim waist. He keeled over the thief, panting from the awesome pleasure given by the supremacy fucking, biting into the leather clad shoulder as if marking his bitch. The Dunmer's thrusts were getting more desperate and brutal than the previous ones. The grey-skin is close.

The thief snarls. He clenches his fists until bloody crescents were left behind. His sharp ears perk at the metallic jingling, figuring out that his valuable findings were in the fat mercenary's poaches. Seems that the curs are going to steal from him as well as violate him. Just wonderful.

Suddenly, the fat Imperial squeals as he spills his slimy seed into the unsuspecting mouth. Cynric starts from surprise then shudders as the foul fluid fills his mouth, the repugnant saltiness coating his squirming tongue. His cheeks puff out as he refuses to swallow the bitter liquid, trickles of it seep from the corners of his pursed lips wrapped around the thrusting rod.

Agonising seconds passed as the Imperial still pumped his cock, spending the last of his come. At long last he collapses backwards on his arse, away from the spluttering thief as he sighs in total satisfaction.

While the contented swine stares blissfully off into nothing, Cynric painfully coughs up and spits out the mucky substance. His lungs burn as he raggedly inhales air, attempting to sooth away the horrid crick in his neck.

He is in hell.

As the thief regulates his flow of breathing, the sodomising sell-sword growls as he approaches his release. He grabs his bitch's hair to pull on painfully, almost tearing out the roots, for leverage and adding to his sick pleasure. The Dunmer slams in more urgently than before. His cleft, grey lips curl back in a leer, bearing his yellow rotten teeth. His cock stabs at the squirming walls that push down to expel him.

He is in paradise.

With a lustful howl and arching his spine in supreme pleasure, the Elven bastard explodes within the bowels of the relented captive. The hot gushing of come scorches the trembling and sensitive passage, renewing in its desperation to push out the invasion and staining of it. Cynric bites back a moan of misery.

The grey-skin bugger stays motionless, frozen in place for a painful full minute. At long last, the Dunmer steadily pulls his slimy, narrow cock free once it had softened; he was rather reluctant in leaving that tight hole. The bastard guffaws as he gave the used arse a good swat, squeezing the precious cheeks a final time. He looks on smugly as his sticky white essence, tinted slightly red, leaks from the dilated hole, dribbling down the inner thighs.

Those fuckers are going to bleed.

The sell-sword moves away, buckling up and righting his leather armour. He and the now sober fat mercenary discussed their drinking plans after their shift, ideally standing beside the still bound, loathing man they had just sexually violated. Insensitive wretches!

They bid goodnight to the third mercenary, one that was nearly forgotten, as the immoral bastards sauntered away from the Bosmer and relented Breton. The haunting footfalls of his rapists seem to mock him. It was the first time in the thief's life that he wanted to kill. To commit bloody, righteous revenge.

In no time Cynric felt the mercenary shift closer to his bounded form. He must be tasked with extinguishing my existence after he has his "fun", the crestfallen thief mused. He did not flinch at the unnerving sound of a blade being unsheathed. The Bosmeri mercenary leaned over to his feet, slicing the rope. Weakened from his vain struggles and rape, Cynric slumped to his side as his limps cry out from the tension crippling them.

He was gently turned onto his back, pressing into the damp but comfy straw, as the Bosmer patiently unbuckled the rest of the Breton's Thieves Guild armour. Cynric stared numbly at the white flecks of snow, swirling freely in the night air harmoniously above. He envied them.

A sudden gust of golden light engulfed the Breton; he was surprised at the Bosmer healing his bruised and bleeding flesh. The slight tears of his rectum knitted themselves along with the dispatching red nicks on his scalp and palms. Cynric still felt fear constricting his chest, attempting to struggle away from the morally-complexed Bosmer. Then a soft blue ball of magic formed in the mercenary's hand, casting the spell of calm over the traumatised thief.

The Bosmer was not one for physical and emotional pain.

The quick, skilful fingers stretched and slicked the healed hole once again, while a generous hand stroked the blood-filling shaft of the still bound, purring Breton.

Soon the mercenary was inside, groaning at the newly tightened passage fluttering around his cock. He petted the sandy blonde hair of the Breton, pressing their bare chests together to enjoy the skin-to-skin contact.

Cynric groaned at the steady thrusting. Eventually the thief realised that the elf's cock, buried deep within him, was pierced. He could feel the twin metal piercings on the underside of the brave bastard's length, dragging along the internal flesh of his arse. The Breton was a bit stunned at the pleasure it brings to the reluctant coupling between him and the sell-sword.

He shouted when his prostate was nudged, wrapping his legs around the Bosmer's waist in reflex. He tugged at his hands, writhing in sexual torment as Cynric moaned uncontrollably from the starbursts of pleasure. His body acted on its own accord, grinding its pelvis into the elf's. The Breton's bruised mouth slacks open as he pants wantonly. His eyes were closed in bliss as his wet cheeks were stained a bright rogue.

The thief's orgasmic face was priceless.

The sell-sword quickens his pace, grunting in effort by repeatedly hitting the mark of the oblong bump of nerves, pushing the rugged Breton to the pinnacle of pure pleasure. Sweat heavily pours off from each-other's overworking bodies. The very graphic sound of skin slapping wet skin and their tantalising groans was sweet music to them, feeding more to their conjoined flames of desire.

A sudden shot immobilised Cynric, his expression and curled body froze into place as the waves of orgasm swallowed him whole. His mouth produced no sound, only stuck in giving a scream that is smothered silent by the ocean of utter ecstasy. His cock, trapped between the joint bodies, shot thick ropes of white liquid dressed the two contrasting abdomens in sticky semen.

The Breton rode out his high as the Bosmer grunted at his clenching hole. The elf ruts as his cock was massaged by the velvet walls, coaxing out his essence. The sell-sword came with a gasp, fucking his seed into the passage milking the Bosmer's warm release. He collapsed on top of the subdued Breton, giving a few shallow thrusts before stilling completely, branding a kiss the handsome thief's stubbly, pale neck.

The sound of clapping drew the drowsy mercenary to turn his head, his nutmeg mohawk dropping down from the induced sweat from the mind-blowing sex. An unidentified figure stepped forward to the exhausted fornicators, still clapping their hands all the while, as it revealed itself in the torch light. The voyeur was a hulking Redguard, adorned in a complete set of steel armour with a scimitar strapped to his side, his blue war-painted face was bunched up in a smug, entertained grin.

"Nice show you put on there, Filldan. Do I get to join in on sampling this little thief before I turn him in?" The mercenary head asked in his smooth, smoky baritone voice. It was clear he was more educated than the average dim-witted sell-sword, he has a decent skill in charisma tied under his belt. Speaking of under his belt, his own aroused bulge was pressing impatiently against his bottoms. The Bosmer looked up into his leader's dark rugged face, giving a toothy grin of his own in return.

"Of course you can; what kind of a lover would I be to not share..." Filldan replied, running his slick tongue over his dark lips erotically.

In no time the Redguard removed his armour, passionately kissing and masturbating his Elven lover to become aroused once more. During this, the now sober Cynric looked away in disgust and mild embarrassment. The Redguard advanced then on him, feeling the lean contours of the Breton's pale torso then rubbing his cock with an infuriating hum of approval.

The thief made the stupid mistake by spitting into that damn smug bastard's face. This prompted him to harshly turn over the Breton on his belly before a furry of sharp strikes landed on the thief's already abused arse. Cynric bit his lip to prevent his pained cries and gasps from escaping, putting up with the red-hot prickles of pain raining down on him; not giving those damned rapists the satisfaction. The Bosmer named Filldan stopped the infuriated Redguard once the thief's porcelain cheeks were a deep blotchy red, the heat from the spanking radiated off the lean rump.

Boarte the Resguard swatted the thief's arse once more for measure, admiring the rippling of the pliant flesh.

Cynric was lifted up by two pairs of arms, one with thick corded muscles under dark skin whereas the other pair were sinewy and in a beige tone, then lowered onto a thick, trimmed dark cock. Cynric gasped as he was broken into again, the length throbbed hotly against his hyper-sensitive walls. The Redguard mercenary began to move his hips upwards into the thief, humming his approval of the sublime, quivering hole. The Breton was startled when the other sell-sword moved close to his front. Cynric yelled out in alarm as the Bosmer pushed himself back into him, his slender cock snuggling up to his lover's thicker shaft. The thief's mouth hung open in sheer disbelief over having two of his violators inside of him, stretching his hole wider than ever before in his short time of being buggered.

Filldan moved first, testing the waters of the Breton's readiness, before sheathing himself back in with Boarte's cock retracting out. The two mercenaries found a rhythm to stick, one thrusting in while the other thrusts out. Cynric panted from the indescribable and maddening pleasure of being fucked by two cocks simultaneously. His toes curled and breath hitching once they passed over that warm spot inside him, causing the Breton to squeeze around the groaning lovers to encourage their rutting. The Bosmer and Redguard were happy to oblique, increasing their thrusting. They relentlessly pounded into him that left the squirming thief moaning wantonly like a bitch in heat. He was so close! Oh so fucking close! Oh please, oh Divines, oh please...

All it took was a firm grasp and pumps of a fist on his cock brought Cynric to scream out his explosive release. He sprayed his second load, splattering his heaving chest and neck. The musky, sticky droplets of semen dribbled down his lightly furred torso. He was once again consumed by the smothering ocean, it's waves of pleasure tossing him one way and the next, almost dragging him under into the embrace of unconsciousness.

The two mercenaries groaned at the contracting passage, desperately fucking the Breton as they reached their own release. Filldan swore as he orgasmed first, his cock pulsed hotly against Boarte's, prompting him to come close behind. The two sheathed cocks pumped more seed into the fluttering passage, shallowly piston in unison until they were satisfied, halting altogether. Filldan and Boarte hissed as they retracted themselves out, the sensitivity of their genitalia almost unbearable. The thief panted, his glassy eyes unfocused and dilated, barely aware of the mercenaries pushing his semen and sweat coated body to the side. The great gaping hole drooled out more of the white fluid, soaking into the fresh straw bed. The barely conscious man was a pathetic but erotic sight to behold.

Cynric watched through blurry eyes, seeing the head mercenary strapping up his steel armour, muttering to his Elven lover to keep an eye on the Breton while he fetches the guards. The black spots at the corners grew in size, dominating his vision. The warm arms of sleep claim Cynric at last, taking him under the sweet dark depths of unconsciousness, uncaring if he lives to see another day or not.

Unnf! I'll be in my rack. That was a hot and steamy fill of epic proportions dear anon, really well done!

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Meme Announcements!

High Rock Guards/Cynric Endell, Dub-con/Non-con + Gangbang

Sorta Misfire MPC/MPCS - Cynric/Mercenaries - Misfortunate Events (1a/??)

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Sorta Misfire MPC/MPCS - Cynric/Mercenaries - Misfortunate Events (1c/??)

Sorta Misfire MPC/MPCS - Cynric/Mercenaries - Misfortunate Events (1d/??)

Sorta Misfire MPC/MPCS - Cynric/Mercenaries - Misfortunate Events (1e/??)

Sorta Misfire MPC/MPCS - Cynric/Mercenaries - Misfortunate Events (1f/??)

Re: Sorta Misfire MPC/MPCS - Cynric/Mercenaries - Misfortunate Events (1f/??)