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The Tenth Hold	By : Singalmo Category: +A through F > Elder Scrolls - Skyrim Views: 23706 -:- Recommendations : 2 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own The Elder Scrolls : Skyrim, or anything related to it. This fiction is purely for entertainment and I do not profit from it in any way.

Chapter List
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My apologies for the break in the narrative. It likely will not be the only one, so do be prepared. I felt that this particular part of the story would be told best by the one it focuses around. Namely, the young man called Eradil. These words are his own regarding his life at Northwatch up to his first real encounter with Seved Kron.

Northwatch Keep was not my first posting. My older sister had joined the military some years before I had. Being the oldest son in the family meant that certain things were expected of me, namely that I would also be of a military mind, and that my particular aspirations did not matter. Father was a military man, that meant that his oldest son would be expected to follow in his footsteps. It never mattered to him that I did not feel compelled to join the ranks of glorious warriors. My calling was more gentle, I knew it, my mother knew it, my siblings knew it. Mother tried to reason with father on my behalf. The result was the first instance I ever saw of my father striking my mother. It would not be the last.

So it was with much pain for my mother and siblings, and much pride for my father, that I began my military training. To be quite honest, I was surprised with how quickly I took to it. The ease with which I wielded any weapon they handed to me was a bit surprising, especially for me. So gradually, I forgot about the sweet voice that had called to me all my life and buried myself in my training. I was good at teaching others, too, and so it wasn’t long before I was teaching cadets in the Summerset Isles. My skill was my downfall, honestly. Same as it was for my sister. We were both quite good at what we did, and thus we were recruited out of the regular military and into the ranks of the Thalmor. To my father, it was an honor to be elected into the ranks of those who would go forth and destroy the “savage heathens” wherever they chose to hide. To my sister and I, we had our misgivings. They were not unfounded.

We were separated not long into our careers and both of us bounced around all over the Dominion, then up into Cyrodiil, and at last into Skyrim. Elenwen assigned me to Northwatch because it was supposed to be the secure holding facility. My skill was what sent me there, and she intended for me to eventually be commander, as she didn’t trust my commanding officers. She was right not to, given the circumstances, but I’m sure she’s told you of all that herself. If not, do not ask me to explain. It is not my place to tell. She had assigned me without even seeing me, really. I think if she had, that might have changed things.

My group came in and diverted briefly to the city of Markarth where we would assist in a small matter and then be allowed two days of leave before continuing on to our assigned postings. The matter turned out to be a false alarm, though naturally the Thalmor treat any hint of a whisper of Talos as a full scale emergency. So for standing around and looking tough, we got some time off. In that time, the voice that had called me for so long was now screaming in my ears. I ignored it at first, opting to drink with my friends. I underestimated the power of Nord ale. When I could no longer stand it, I said I was going for some air and they left me alone. I swear, something possessed me in that moment and I didn’t have control of myself. I stumbled my way toward the temple of Dibella and was terrified, knowing how often they turn out drunks.

Yet, the high priestess there saw something in me and did not turn me out. She welcomed me in. It is not uncommon for people to sometimes mistake a temple of Dibella for a brothel. It both is and is not, and depends entirely on what aspect a given temple is devoted to. The priestesses of Markarth embrace all aspects, though out of respect for those who come in so desperately, as I did, they keep some of those aspects quieter, more private. So I was led to a back room, quiet, private, and welcoming. My desire, my insistent need, the screaming voice in my mind begging for release, these were their pleasure to fulfill, to relieve, and to quiet. It took two of them to do so, working together, knowing exactly what I wished. The smell of incense, perfume, and sex are still fresh in my mind. The first smell that ever truly aroused me, that awoke something deep inside me. The voice quieted down, but did not go away.

Relieved as I was, we went onward. Northwatch was not my favorite place. It was intensely, fiercely cold. The wind off the sea was bitter and biting for us, nothing like the sweet breezes of the Summerset Isles, or the gentle winds of Cyrodiil. Some of us were sure, though we would never have said it aloud, that Talos Himself was sending that wind to freeze us all to death for denying His divinity.

Three days after my arrival at Northwatch, some prisoners were brought in. We would be holding them for a week before they would be quietly picked up and taken elsewhere. Where to, I never knew. I suspect it was to the Summerset Isles. At any rate, I got my first real look at what was going on, and why Elenwen didn’t trust these people. There were four prisoners, all female. Two Nord women, a Redguard, and an Imperial. My commander made me watch, since I was new and needed to be “brought up to speed,” as he went about torturing the prisoners. He did this one at a time, tying their wrists and then attaching their bonds to a hook which probably had been the chandelier chain at one point. This was lifted until the woman’s arms were over her head and she was effectively helpless. He’d started with one of the Nords. The younger of the two, to be precise. She was a pretty young thing, probably seventeen, almost eighteen summers, blonde, and her eyes were quite pretty. They were a beautiful shade of blueish green that practically glowed with their own light. In that moment, she was utterly terrified, though, and I understood why.

My commander proceeded to cut at her simple clothing with his dagger. First was a downward cut from the neck of her tunic to about an inch below her breasts. It was enough that he could pull back the cloth and leave her exposed for his examination. Then he opened the front of her pants and cut, carefully, along the seam that ran along her crotch, clear back to the waistline in the back. This meant that, untied, the pants would flop open to leave her nethers exposed, and even tied, there was access to her if she was spread in any way. He told me that all female prisoners were to have their clothes “adjusted” this way when they were brought in. He rarely inflicted pain on female prisoners, save for stretching them out with his own manhood, and the occasional piercing of a virgin. The girl he instructed me with happened to be one, and he had known it. He preferred to say that he was opening them, which was often the case as whenever a virgin girl came in, he was always the first to use her. I remember that girl vividly. Her screams, her begging and pleading, every whimper, every struggle to get away from my commander and the other men that used her. I didn’t want to use her, not like that. I wanted it to be like the temple. Quiet, private, consenting. I didn’t have a choice to not use her. I at least got a modicum of privacy, as the others didn’t watch me, just listened. I pleaded with her, quietly, to not be angry with me. I constantly begged her forgiveness. She didn’t scream so loudly with me, none of the women did really. Still, when she was loaded onto the small boat, her clothes still opened as they were, the two men in it leering at her and pulling the fabric away from her nethers before they were even out of sight, I saw the saddest thing I had ever seen in my life.

The light in her eyes that had been there when she was brought in was gone when she stepped into that boat. I knew she would be the first used again, and again, and again. I watched the adjudicator quickly inspect them each, feeling their breasts, running his gloved hand over their nethers to make sure their pants were opened up for easy access. I could see the larger boat in the distance and could only imagine what hell awaited them once they were brought on board.

Seved told me later what happened to those prisoners, and all the others that went through and were taken away on the boats. There were quiet brothels in the Summerset Isles, throughout the Dominion really, where these prisoners were taken and used by countless Altmer. Exotic whores stolen from their homelands, enslaved by the Thalmor to fill their coffers so they could bolster their ranks and pay for all the treachery they committed in Tamriel. He promised me he would find that girl again and get her out if he could. I pray he does.

At any rate, once the women were gone after having been ravaged for a week straight, my commander was unsatisfied. He was still rather riled up and needed an outlet before he even thought of touching the interrogator. I was new, however, and I was young, and I was small. He’d seen my face well enough in that time to know I was androgynous enough for his purposes. The first time it happened, he had two of the other men ambush me and get me out of my armor. It took both of them to force me to serve my commander, and when it was all over it left my anus raw for three days afterward. It was difficult to sit. But he was satisfied and it was over.

He always had two men there to watch after that, lest I get unruly again. A few times he made me service them while he took me, or made them take me while I serviced him. Either way, he liked how I looked, bare and whimpering. A few times he would corner me himself and secure my hands to the wall while he played with my manhood. Once or twice, when it had been a damned long time since any prisoners were there, he told me to wear my cloth uniform instead of my armor, and made me wear it so that as I walked around my chest was bare and my manhood was flopping about exposed for all to see. Actually, that I didn’t mind so much because of how it made the girls giggle to play with it when I wasn’t expecting it. I didn’t mind them touching me so much as I minded him. Still, his abuse was inconsistent, surprising, and unpleasant.

Raj, Slither, and Inga were not brought in at the same time. A slow trickle of prisoners, along with Thorald Gray-Mane. Still, new prisoners meant less torture for me. While I did not like what happened to them, I was bound by duty, and I did not want to be abused, either. We had been on alert for three days since one of the women had spotted a group of Nords hiding behind a rock not far from the keep, and actively being suspicious and not hunting. Things got worse when the word came through that there had been hard hoofbeats and a fourth joining them. We were ready to fend off such a haphazard attack, to add more prisoners to the cells even. We could not have predicted what actually happened.

It is often said by the Dunmer that Jygalag is often equally amused and frustrated when His precious order is disrupted by the machinations of others, or by that one force even He cannot comprehend, that being chaos itself. There is always that one random element, that one thing that is slightly different and yet that looks the same as all the others. The man who is aware of his own destiny, who is aware that he holds the favor of something greater than he is, the man who has Death walking beside him not as enemy or rival, but as a friend.

I was inside when it began, and when I saw my commander and three others fall to Seved’s blade, each after he hit them only once, I ran back to warn the others that the foe was more powerful than we had thought. I stood my ground in the main hall. I was told later that I was the toughest to bring down. I whirled and twisted and spun out of the way of their swinging. I managed to strike Seved three times, though they always met armor, never good purchase. I miscalculated, ducked spun to the left when I should have ducked to the right, and brought myself into the arc of his blade. It slid between the plates of my armor and found purchase, doing the damage it needed to do. It was not a bad wound, but enough that the poison was able to work. I felt my body stiffen, my heart and breath slow down. I could not move, and so I fell. I could feel the men binding me and cursed that I could do nothing. I heard the sounds die down. I heard Seved’s voice ring through the keep, though I could not understand it. I felt power surge through the keep. We all could feel it, I’m sure. The quiet voice told me not to be afraid, to wait and I would get my wish. My prayer was answered.

We were unbound, stripped of all armor and clothing, and bound again, placed in the cells. The Thalmor banners were effective in keeping out the cold, yet their symbols turned inward were an oppressive reminder of what had become our doom, the sentence hanging over our heads. The two men who had held me down for the commander began to weep, afraid they would die in such a position, naked, exposed, weak. Yet I did not. I stayed calm as the voice told me to wait.

We could tell the difference already between his boots and the boots of any of the others. His weight was different, his stride a little longer. We knew it was him that approached to be our guardians for at least part of the night. He did not pull back the banners on any of the other cells. His mind had been made up already. He pulled back ours first. He would start with us, the men of Northwatch. We were blindfolded, one by one, so we could not see, only hear what happened. But I knew which of us he took and when. The first four, the four men who had taken turns to hold me down, were too terrified to resist much. We could hear his command to serve, could hear them resist a little, then finally that familiar sound, half sucking, half slurping, the sound of a man’s cock being sucked. It’s a distinctive sound. Two were braced for it, I could tell they’d swallowed without trouble. The other two were not ready. They were still spitting out come when he’d dropped them back in the cell. My commander put up the most resistance, hurling insults at Seved before he, too, was forced to serve. He did not swallow, though. We could hear his disgust when Seved released onto his chest and not into his mouth. One of the other four was made to lick the commander clean and then, after the commander was repositioned, we could not see exactly how, bent down to suck the commander’s cock. A position I’m sure he was familiar with.

Then came my turn. I was on my knees, I knew I would be. He pressed the head of his cock to my lips and before he could open his mouth, I opened mine. I knew what he wanted. We could all hear it. I could have resisted, I knew, but I also knew it was better to just go along with it. I’d been abused enough by then to have been broken already. Yet, that was not the reason I gave in so quickly. I knew I was blushing as I started to suck. It was his smell. His musk was strong, but not unpleasant in the slightest. It affected me the same way the smells in the temple of Dibella had. I was stiff already, I had need to please and be pleased, despite this being a man. He pulled back and hauled me up to my feet, leading me down the hallway. I knew where we were going. The interrogation room. He removed my blindfold and confirmed who he was as my eyes adjusted. I wasn’t fully unbound, though, my hands were tied behind my back. Inconvenient to say the least, and knowing that he probably had more of whatever had immobilized us previously did not give me any hope.

“You are different, boy... Either you enjoy the company of men, or you’ve been put on your knees and forced to enjoy it... Which is it?”

“I-- the commander. You pulled him out just before me. He liked to abuse the female prisoners. When there were none...”

“He used you?”

“Yes.”

“You didn’t like him.”

“No. I hated him.” He smiled all through that part of the conversation. It was unnerving for me, watching this giant Nord smiling at me while I stood before him, bound and naked. My answers were halting, hesitant, and yet they were things that needed to be said. His next questions caught me entirely off guard. They were harder to answer, yet I could not lie. I felt like that would only bring injury upon me and I did not want to be the subject of his ire. Something told me I would not live long if I were.

“Did you blush for him?”

“No. Not usually... Maybe once or twice when he caught me off guard.”

“You did when you started to serve me.” I stammered and, because he did have hold of my arm, slipped and fell forward. The motion was involuntary, my face landed square into his chest. He was no longer in his armor, just the simple linen clothes he wore under the steel. His scent was overwhelming and my answer to him was entirely muffled.

“Hmm?” He had raised an eyebrow and I unburied my face enough that he could understand me.

“I-- I like the way you smell.” I swallowed hard and buried my face again. That time in shame. I couldn’t look at him. It was the truth, it needed to be said, and yet the admission was utterly shameful to me. Some secret that not even my comrades knew, pried out of me so easily by this giant man. It was the first time I experienced it, and it is a familiar thing when you know Seved very well, you can tell when he’s thinking, even if you’re not looking at him. You don’t even have to be in the same room to know that the wheels are turning in his head, that reason is happening, that genius is coming to fruition. I’m sure you’ve noticed it in your own conversations with him. It’s a palpable feeling, knowing that he is taking the time to consider every scrap of information he has been given, that rests in the dark recesses of his mind. In those moments, you know that he is making a decision, the best one he can possibly make in that moment, given what he has. His tone with me changed quite noticeably once he opened his mouth again. It was softer, more gentle.

“What is your name, boy?”

“Eradil.” I took a risk in that moment. I looked up at him. He was smiling, but it was a different smile than from before. There was a certain light in his eyes, one that those of us close to him recognize as the light of memory. It comes when he recalls something from his past. It glows like the hearth when the memory is pleasant and it burns like Red Mountain when it is painful. In that moment, it was the hearth’s fire I saw. He ran his finger along the edge of my ear, from the tip down to the lobe, which made me shiver. No one had done that before and I knew that the ears of Mer were often sensitive, but I did not know if my own were.

“On your knees, Eradil.” He commanded me, true, yet it was not the harshness with which he had spoken to the others. Nor did he need to say more than that. I knew what he wanted and he knew what I wanted. He was flaccid at that point, so it took longer. I worked, with only my mouth I might add, to get him erect again before I took him into my mouth. His hand never left my head. He stroked my hair, sometimes my eartips. That sent shivers down my spine and I know that my own erection had come back quickly. I could feel it jump when he played with my ears. Ten minutes I spent servicing him before he finally released into my mouth. I swallowed it all and kept licking at him afterward. Honestly, I wanted more of his taste, his smell. It was utterly fascinating to me that a man’s smell could arouse me so fully.

He asked me about that. Why I liked his smell. I told him the truth. How it reminded me of the temple of Dibella. He asked me many questions about that experience. Did they spread their nethers for me, did I touch them, taste them, bury myself in them. Yes, to all but the last. They spread for me, I touched and tasted and was tasted. But spent twice, and with enough alcohol in me, I could not stiffen again. I had, in essence, remained a virgin when I left that temple, unable to do what I had longed to, to bury my cock into their warm folds, to feel hot sex around me.

He knelt down with me and took my cock in his hand, playing with it while we talked. The closer I drew to orgasm, the more I let slip from my tongue. His fingers were well practiced and I felt myself getting too close too quickly. He shifted so he was behind me and my hands, still bound, could reach his cock. We worked at each other, though he was much more controlled than I was. I gasped and whimpered like a common whore... and I loved every second of it. He asked if I wanted to taste more women. He asked if I wanted to taste more men. He asked if I wanted to bury my cock in them, and have others piercing me and tasting me. Each question he asked, one by one, I answered with a yes, each a little more desperate, I felt. In part because that is what I wanted. In part because I was ready to release for him.

He made me an offer. Submit to him and I could have all of that and even more. Do as he wished and I could finally have my own wish. He said I knew what to do and he was right. The voice in me that had stayed with me told me what to do, what to say. I called him Master. He was stiff almost immediately once that word left my lips. He spread his cloak on the table in that room and bent me over so my chest rested on it, my legs spread. I could hear him messing with something behind me.

He entered me slowly. It hurt at first and I hissed. He encouraged me, comforted me. The pain would pass, and it did. So long as he didn’t stop moving I was alright. I could finally feel his hips pressing against my buttocks and something more. Something inside that felt amazing. He untied my hands and I braced against the table, glad for that little bit of freedom. Then he thrust in earnest. Yes, it definitely hurt when he started, but that faded fairly quickly, since I’d figured out that he’d oiled his member to make it easier. By Dibella, I moaned as he took me. I moaned like the whores I’d heard in the inns we’d stopped in to rest on the way from the Isles up to Skyrim. I moaned like the priestesses of Dibella had when I’d buried my face between their legs. I could hear him grunting behind me, feel him moving inside me. The feeling was incredible. I didn’t want him to stop. I could feel him release inside me that first time. He put his hands around my waist and pulled me back as he dropped to his knees on the floor and I went with him. He stayed behind me, kept thrusting into me, my back to his chest. We were fucking at that point. Hard, savage, animal fucking. He stroked me at the same time, which only intensified the feeling for me. He bade me come for him and I did. I came hard. There was a lot, I could feel it, and the world had gone white while I moaned. He filled me again and slowed down, then slowly pulled himself out of me. I clenched, not wanting his seed to leave me for some reason. I’m still not sure why. I wiggled around and clung to him. He held me close, letting my breath slowly return to normal.

He let me stay there and I could feel him working. He pulled some leather strips from the pouch at his side and while I clung to him, nuzzling into his chest, he braided them. A five-strand plait. When I was calmer and he had finished that, he stood up and grabbed some of the tools that had been left there. He capped the ends of the braid in wire, tucking in the cut ends, and he fashioned a clasp. It was simple, and I knew what it was once he’d finished. He knelt beside me and pulled me close again. He wrapped the finished thing around my neck and fastened it in the back. He kissed my forehead. I knew what it meant. It was a simple sign that I was owned. More importantly, that I belonged to him. I was sure he’d fashion a prettier collar for me later when he had more time. He gave to me a new task after that, I did not have to return to the cell with my male comrades. I had work to do, to help him with his goals.

I silently promised myself that I would serve him well, that I would never betray him, and that I would at last follow the voice that had called to me for so long. I felt at peace. And before you ask, Singalmo, the answer is yes. I do still have that first collar he made for me. I still wear it sometimes, when I want to remember that night, the comfort it gave me to know I was owned. I wear it when I don’t want to serve anyone else for a while and just wish to be his alone. I am more free now than I ever have been, and I am far happier. You see, he saw the same truth that my father refused to acknowledge. Dibella does not extend Her gifts solely to women. There are men, too, who are called to serve Her and give freely of themselves to those who desire them. I will take up sword and armor in defense of this keep and everyone in it, when the need arises. But the sword that gets the most use is the one between my legs and that pleases me just fine.

Eradil continues to live his life in this manner and while he has never taken a wife of his own, he has had countless partners of all races and genders. He has sired six children, two sons and four daughters, that he is aware of and that live here in Northwatch. He is fairly certain there are more of his progeny out there somewhere, and hopes that he gets to know all of them before his time comes to an end. He is happy here, eager to please, and I pray that Dibella continues to bless him.
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The Tenth Hold