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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.

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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Call of the Blood 10.2/?

[(Anonymous)]

I awoke moments later. The circlet had been removed but the rest of the jewellery remained; a dull burn now. It took a moment to register that I was unchained, my wrists bound with rope, and lying on the floor. A iron chain had been attached to the collar and when the two Silver Hand bastards realised I was awake they tugged me to my feet using the chain. The two of them dragged me up the stairs behind them, like a dog on a leash. I staggered after them, barely able to think through the burning pain of the silver, into the room at the top of the tower. A fist to the kidneys had white stars flash in front of my eyes and I went limp, almost passing out from the blinding agony that shot through my body. When I regained my focus I was kneeling over a stone platform, transformed into a crude altar. My arms were outstretched and chained to the opposite side, my breasts were pressed to the cold stone and my knees were spread and shackled to the floor.

But it was the sight to my right that held my attention, making me forget my own pain for a moment. A transformed Skjor lay draped across the altar, limbs bound and muzzled with a cloth gag. His silvering fur matted with blood and covered with cuts deep enough to show bone. He was barely breathing, torturous rattling breaths and his eyes stared dully at me as though he were already dead.
He must have come after me. I need to do something. I need to help him.

Hands touched me, making me flinch, stroking over my long knotted hair in a gentle caress that was worse than a thousand cruel touches, trailing down over my spine. A dark grey hand cupped my face. Desperately racking my brains for a plan, for some way out, I glanced round the room.
So it's the Orc behind me, the leader over by the instrument rack and the two bastards by the door. How the fuck am I supposed to fight four when I'm unarmed, gagged and bound? Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.
The leader's voice echoed loudly round the room, "Let's start skinning him."
I yelled curses behind the gag as Skjor weakly struggled, trying to plead with my eyes, trying to divert their attention.
No, please. Not that. Just let him die quickly.
"Don't you want that, bitch?" The Orc slapped my ass hard as the leader walked over to join us, sharpening a small but hideously curved knife on a grindstone. The scraping sound echoed through my head. I shook my head desperately, tears springing to my eyes.
"How about a deal then, bitch?" The Orc's calloused fingers slid to cup my sex from behind, fingers starting to slowly grind against me. "You be a good little dog and fuck us all and we'll let your friend die before we take his pelt. Hmm?"
I whimpered behind my gag as the leader slowly looked my body over, that wicked knife in his hands. His eyes met mine and I pushed the fear back down. Skjor had been brave, so could I. I glared into those cold, cruel eyes. I am the Dragonborn, Companion and Thane of Whiterun and I will not break. The leader put down the knife, crouching down next to me, tilting my head up almost gently. His hand slid to my hair, brushing it to one side to expose my neck, then traced a feather-light path down my spine to my hips. The hand stroked over my flank and hip, mimicking the Orc's motions lower down, rubbing in persistent circles. I could feel my body starting to respond, despite my protests. "It would be a shame to waste her. Well, cunt? What do you say?"
I stared numbly at Skjor who took another shuddering, rattling breath, blood frothing out of the wound on his chest. The pool of blood on the altar had spread, one rivulet reaching to where I lay chained. It felt warm and sticky against my bare chest. Then I nodded. It's a small price to pay, really.
"Good girl."