Skyrim Page 5 - "NAKED! Naked naked naked "

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Another Type of Toll 3/4

[(Anonymous)]

But just like that, Borkul's hand was gone again and Fost begrudgingly let out a moan of protest. Opening one eye, Fost stared at Borkul, wondering what was coming. Borkul lifted a hand, daunting smile in place, and Fost's eyes went wide as it swung down to connect with the pucker between his cheeks. Shame sunk to the bottom of his stomach as Fost felt his his member throb painfully between his legs. Borkul laughed deeply, motioning for the watching group to come and see. He repeated his actions twice more, Fost's anus winking at the lot of them each time.

And then, Borkul's thick finger was in him again. Swirling around and prodding at the lump deep inside. Odvan knelt beside Fost, using his fingertips to firmly tap his family jewels. One by one each prisoner leaned down next to him. Duach traced a finger around Fost's belly button and up and down the trail of pubic hair. Braig took Uraccen's spot so Uraccen could join Odvan down below, tormenting Fost with sweet, sweet, torture.

Fost's eyes rolled and he tossed his head back in ecstasy. He could taste blood in his mouth, his blood from biting his tongue. He couldn't let them get the best of him like this. He just couldn't but... His erection was becoming painfully hard and he was so, so close to begging for release. A finger traced the underside of his member and then all hands left him except Borkul's damned finger, massaging his insides. Fost squirmed against Braig's hold, setting his hands free, they flew downwards and gripped his erection, making the now drying puddle of pre-cum grow and dilate. Borkul gripped Fost's wrists with one hand and lead them back up to Braig, chuckling and tsking, muttering something under his breath that sounded vaguely like a threat to rip his fingers off. Braig held Fost down with renewed fervor and Fost closed his eyes, resentfully waiting for that agonizingly pleasurable touch to return.

But it never did.

Fost opened one eye, his member throbbing thickly against his inner thigh and dripping with his pale, syrupy essence. Borkul eyed him back, fists planted firmly on his own hips, and raised a brow. No. Fost thought, No. Not this. Anything but this. He felt his lips unwillingly downturn into a pout. Wetness filled his eyes and he angrily blinked back the tears that threatened to overflow. Wasn't physically dominating him enough? Hadn't they gotten what they wanted, to see a nord reduced to their plaything? Did they really need him to beg too? He swallowed and threw his head against the ground twice, growling and licking his lips nervously. He peeked another look at Borkul who was unmoving and undeterred by Fost's show of reflectance.

Fost felt the word on the tip of tongue and bit at it, refusing to give in. Borkul stood and started to move away, tsking at his disappointment in Fost. Braig looked up at Borkul, questioning what to do with Fost, but never relented his hold on the Nord. "Wait!" The word exploded from Fost's mouth, leaving the sour taste of humiliation in it's wake.

Borkul turned, amusement lighting his face and glimmering in his eyes. "Yes, boy? Have something to say?"

Fost swallowed, squirming, his posterior waving in the air at Borkul, he hated this. He hated how he had been reduced to nothing but a sniveling little bitch in the hands of the Forsworn. He stuttered for a moment, licking his lips yet again. "P-please." he eventually managed to whisper.

Borkul's smile of amusement grew, showing his delight in this sadistic little game. He lifted his hand, Fost wincing at the thought of having his asshole smacked again, but the sting never came. Opening his eyes, he saw Borkul cupping an ear, prompting his continuance. Fost furrowed his brow, squeezing his eyes shut. "Come back. Make me cum. Please." Fost squeezed his eyes harder, shame leaking from the lids. "Please."

Another Type of Toll 4/4

[(Anonymous)]

Borkul moved back to Fost, motioning for Braig to hold tighter, and slowly slipped his finger deep into Fost's entrance. Fost scowled, but let out a deep moan from the back of his throat. Adding another finger, Borkul thrust them upward again and again, hitting that magic spot inside of Fost every time. Fost trembled, his legs naturally struggling against Braig's hands. He felt the warmth pool in his stomach and arched his back as he exploded. Braig released Fost, his legs sprawling every which way like a pulled back spring. Fost lay still a moment, feeling his cum still leaking from his member. He panted thickly and put his cheek against the dirt floor, closing his eyes. Borkul snickered and plunged his fingers in one last time, causing a splurt of cum to exit and stick to Fost's stomach like a little bridge.

Fost groaned and looked up at Borkul, his face flushed. He had been with other men plenty of times before, but none of them were like that. Borkul harshly pressed a key into Fost hand before moving away, "Go on in."

Fost struggled to his feet, legs aching and sore. He gathered his trousers from around his ankles and pulled them up, leaving his tunic where it lay on the ground in tatters. Putting the key in the door unceremoniously, Fost went to pry it open, but it wouldn't budge with Borkul holding it shut. Fost looked up at him, craning his neck to see his face. Borkul leaned down and shoved his lips against Fost's, plunging his tongue into Fost's mouth. A hand moved upward and wrapped around the small of Fost's back, holding him still and close while the other smoothed it's fingers across Fost's stomach, spreading the cum that hadn't yet dripped off. Fost stayed quiet, relenting to this treatment. Borkul pulled away, a string of saliva holding them together. He winked and smacked Fost's butt hard. "Don't be a stranger."

In the hallway, Fost ducked into an abandoned cell, wiping the spit from his face and the cum from his torso. He vomited twice and stood back up, continuing to dry heave.

It wasn't the first time Fost had been in prison, and it certainly wouldn't be the last. He helped them escape a few days later. The blood and carnage was enough to last him a life time. Before they exited the underground ruins of Markarth, Madanach had marked Druadach Redoubt on Fost's map with a DR and by the time Fost was hiding under the bridge outside of Markarth he was scowling and marking it out with a thick red X. There was absolutely no way he would visit again.

---
Hey, OP! Happy Monday! :D Glad I got this up! I have an idea for a sequel if you want, but it will still take a while. :D

I've never written a story where there was no actual sex, so this was a bit of a challenge for me. I'd love to hear what you think OP, and also all of you random anons. c: Thanks~!!

Re: Another Type of Toll 4/4

[(Anonymous)]

Not the OP but I loved it! Filthy and sexy, and I just loved the idea of a proud Nord Stormcloak becoming the Forsworn's bitch.

I personally would love a sequel in which Fost slowly realises he can't stop thinking about it and comes crawling back for more.

OP IS IN HEAVEN!!!

[(Anonymous)]

my dearest, lovely anon,

you really, really delivered. it was the perfect smut woven into a well-crafted story. i LOVED the incorporation of cihdna mine and nord/orc angst. the humiliation, the tension, the surrender, ahhh, so great!


i do hope you choose to write a sequel!!!!