Ending the Fan | By : JayDee Category: +A through F > Elder Scrolls - Oblivion Views: 14152 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 0 |
Disclaimer: I do not own The Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion. I do not make any money from the writing of this story. |
AFF - Full Codes: 3Plus, Anal, BDSM ChallengeFic, Complete, Exhib, Fingering, F/D, F/F, HJ, M/F, MCD, Oral, RapeFic, PWP, Solo, TF, WIP, Xeno, Violence, Voy, WS
BDSM/MCD/WS Note - These apply to chapter 8 only.
On ending her rise through the ranks of arena combatants with the defeat of The Gray Prince, the new Orc Grand Champion had been only too happy to agree to the peppy Bosmer fan following her along the road to Chorrol. She was barely across the bridge out of the Imperial City before regretting the decision. His never-ending stream of praise for her fighting prowess grew tiring only slightly slower than his limitless knowledge of past Arena statistics. The arena seemed to be the teenage Bosmer’s whole life – he certainly spoke of nothing else – and she felt relieved when, at the first bandit attack, he cowardly fled. She took her axe to the bandits with all the ferocity of her arena battles, and they quickly found their numbers did not provide any advantage. Afterwards, spattered blood dried on her muscular green forearms while she repaired her axe. The Bosmer reappeared just as she started to relax. As the ruins of Fort Ash came into sight along the road, she was seriously entertaining the thought of taking her newly sharpened axe to the fan. His chatter made it hard to concentrate on anything else, and she wasn’t the brightest Orc in Cyrodiil to begin with, but she soon realised the wiser choice to ending his life was to end his obsession with the arena. "How do you find time to memorise all this? Which gladiator beat which gladiator fifty years past? You should spend your time with girls!" "Hah! What do girls know about the Arena... That Methredhel, living down the waterfront, told me I was boring!" he began, then quickly changed his tone "I mean, women who aren’t warriors like you, Grand Champion." "You don’t talk to girls about the Arena, you do other things!" "I heard about that stuff. It doesn’t sound anywhere near as fun as watching fights or even reading in the archive." The Grand Champion stopped at the Fort Ash ruins. As there was still a dead goblin nailed up outside she assumed the tunnels beneath were still clear from her last goblin slaughtering visit. She kicked the door open, and walked into the darkness. The fan followed her with yet more praise. As soon as she was convinced the ruins were indeed clear – besides a few easily despatched giant rats – she stripped off her armour to reveal the tautly muscular scarred green flesh of her body. "Is it time to rest, Grand Champion?" As the Orc’s bared breasts were at eye level, his statistical mind couldn’t help but think there was more fat stored on her body than he’d realised. "No. It’s time to make an ending of this Arena nonsense for you." The light from the Bosmer’s torch danced across the crumbling stone walls when the Orc tore it from his hand and wedged it into a crack. She ripped the cheap shirt from his torso. His pants provided little further resistance, and before the Bosmer quite knew what was happening he was naked before the mighty Orc warrior. "What-" The Orc’s long tongue cut off his cry. His short Bosmer legs kicked in the air during the kiss. She realised his arms were so thin that she could grip completely around each bicep. She noted he nearly gagged on her thick tongue. He was soon more worried about her tusks digging into his face. He drew deep breaths when she finally lowered him down onto the floor. Unbalanced, he landed on his ass. "Look! What do you think that thing’s for?" She pointed a broken-nailed finger at the Bosmer’s erect member. She was actually impressed, and wondered if a love of nature wasn’t the only reason Bosmer were also called Wood Elves. He tried to scoot away as she paused in dirty thought, so she sat on his stomach hard, then adjusted for penetration between her thick thighs. "Oh! Ow! Please have mercy, Grand Champion!" The Orc snarled bestially as she guided the Bosmer through her thick coarse bush. His entire length was swallowed in one smooth motion. His pleading ceased immediately, replaced with a wordless moan when she squeezed his member with the flexing muscles of her sex. He did not resist as she pulled his hands up to her nearly black nipples. She showed him how to caress her. Her rough hands enclosed his smooth skin as she taught the pleasurable lesson. These were skills he would use with the next girl, she sincerely hoped. She began to ride him gently, not wanting to break him, and added her own moans to his. Gladly she found the right angle to rub his shaft against her inch long nub with each rise and fall atop the newly compliant Bosmer. Her pace increased. The initial roughness with which she had taken him became a tenderer striving for mutual pleasure. She lent closer to him. Thick strands of her drool splashed against his flushed face and into his blonde Bosmer hair. She managed to ride him faster but not too hard. The ending of their coupling was close; he couldn’t last much longer. She desperately rubbed herself with a drool slick finger. The first climax of the Bosmer’s life went unnoticed by the Orc as she willed herself to orgasm. When she came she squeezed his member so painfully tight his spurts were cut off in the shaft. She gushed all over the skinny Bosmer’s crotch, lost in roared pleasure. It was only his frantic struggles beneath that made her realise she’d collapsed, and cut of his air. She rose quickly. "By Azura!" he managed, "I’ve been missing out so badly but... well, does it have to be so bruising?" The Grand Champion laughed hard. She preferred it rough, but that clearly wasn’t the answer to give. "Continue to Chorrol with me. I’ll introduce you to this friendly gentle Argonian girl, Dar-Ma. She’s looking for a boy her age. But no Arena talk!" "I swear!" he cried, a fan no more. End of Part 1
A/N: Part 1 written for AFF forum weekly prompt 12 - Ending.
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