Meme Announcements!

[skyrimkinkmeme]

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

Comments

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

[(Anonymous)]

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.