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Skyrim: Plaything	By : GE_The_Beast Category: +A through F > Elder Scrolls - Skyrim Views: 21445 -:- Recommendations : 3 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: This story is made for fun, profit and entertainment. In no way do I own anything discussed. I do not own Skyrim or The Elder Scrolls fandom in any way, nor do I intend any profit from this story.

Chapter List
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Mzinchaleft was a gigantic dwarven ruin. The old walls stood strong, and were populated with bandits. The shoddy armor and decent weapons were a giveaway. Two campfires were burning bright into the night, looking warm against the gloom of Haafingar. She was cold already, and she had been hiking all day. Her humongous ass had a way of losing all heat from a stiff breeze. In the frigid air of Haafingar it felt more like an icicle.
The bandits had set up defenders at all of the entrances to Mzinchaleft, and had archers on top of the walls. It would be risky to attack it. So, she got as close as she could before casting the perfect spell for her needs. The Calm spell hit both of the front guards, making them blink heavily. She stepped out of the darkness, waving to them.
“May I approach?” She called.
“Aye.” The ensorcelled man in front called. “But no trespassin’!”
“I’m here to see Maluril. He’s expecting me.”
“Well. Great! You must be one of his buyers. We’ve been digging up Dwemer shite for weeks.” The bandit brightened. “Welcome to Maz-in-she-left.” He garbled, getting the pronunciation wrong. “This way.”
Behind her helmet’s cover she swallowed in relief. Elayne didn’t want to kill people, she was supposed to save them! Even these bandits were meant to be saved from Alduin. “I brought some ale for you all. I hope it goes the distance.”
“Aye! Now that there is a smart lass!” The Nord spoke loudly, getting the attention of those around. “A buyer has come! And she brought booze!”
There was a raucous cheer from the bandits, who brought her over to one of the bright fires. Elayne warmed her hands, almost wishing some of that heat could reach through her light armor and unfreeze her ass. But one calm spell and she was inside the ruins. Getting out would be another matter entirely. There had to be twenty of the bandits in this place, their chief a massive orc with steel armor. “I wasn’t told of a buyer.” He growled, glaring at her.
“Maluril sent me a message about Dwemer gear. I’m from the Synod, looking for supplies for research.” If Elayne knew anything, it was about magic. “He said you have some deconstructed spiders I can buy.”
“He didn’t send no letters anywhere.” The orc grumbled. “You brought gold?”
“Left it with the carriage.” She admitted. “I’m supposed to see if he has the supplies. Once I verify that, I can bring the whole carriage and buy as much as you’ve dug out.”
“Too bad.” The Orc said darkly. “I hear that most mages have fairly deep pockets.”
“The powerful ones, yes.” Elayne responded. “But most of the apprentices are so poor they consider dropping out and doing anything that gets them more coin. I’ve barely got any on me.” That much was true. If you didn’t steal from Nordic ruins the undead wouldn’t rise as much. She only took gold from those that tried to stop her, after all. “Can you show me the way to him?”
The orc laughed. “Take her. Leave the ale, though. Helps against the cold wind.” Her ass might disagree. Half the total weight of her backpack was dumped out onto a snow-frozen table, alto wine and nord mead clinking as they unrolled. Most of it was bought in Morthal, and the rest had been in her bag for the particularly lonely nights. Skyrim wasn’t a nice place, and sometimes it helped to have something to sleep. For Elayne it was nightmares of being beheaded. Oddly she never dreamed about dragons, or feared them. But the axe that barely missed her neck had her terrified when she dreamt about it.
The interior of the ruin was warmer, but only by a little bit. A large cookfire burnt in the middle of the great hall, and Elayne was able to smile at the sight. She could smell pheasant and slaughterfish cooking, a stew boiling merrily. “Come on, he’s just ahead.” Her guide muttered, his stomach growling. “But you can see that we’ve got the goods.” Wagons whole and damaged were in the hallways, filled with giant cogs and the remains of dwemer automatons. “Can’t get any of the moving parts without fighting those nasty things.”
They passed a barred door leading deeper into the dwemer ruin, coming to a small set of bedrooms. Only one of the rooms had a closed door, which the bandit knocked on. “Hey! A buyer is here for you!”
It was just her and the bandit in here. Her left hand was resting on the pommel of her sword, her right aching to prepare a spell. There was a thumping from the inside of the room, the door cracking open. “Who are you?” The mer inside hissed. His accent sounded like he was from Morrowind.
“I’m Jeannette, from the Synod? Here to verify you have any dynamo cores for purchase. In addition to other research materials.”
The red eyes narrowed. “The Synod?” He hissed. “Fine. Come in.” The door was cracked open only enough for her to slip in, before he slammed it shut. “Who are you, really?” His voice was like a gasp. Most Dunmer she had seen looked ashen gray normally, but this one looked as though his skin was drying out and cracking.
“I’m here about the book.” She whispered, equally quiet.
The Dunmer narrowed his eyes, looking angry. “I don’t have anything you would want. Now, you have seconds to justify your life or else I shall end it.”
His spell was just a hair slower than her enchanted dagger. His hands froze, the paralysis effect keeping him in place. Pieces of frost stuck to his fingers, the spell nearly complete. Most importantly, there was no noise from the other side of the door. “Sorry.” She whispered. “Someone wants you dead.” It felt like being a hypocrite to say the truth to him. But she shoved her steel dagger home, his body slumping into her arms. He wasn’t a large man, but it took all of her limited strength to put him in one of the beds and covered up the corpse.
He had a few books in his bag, as well as some potions and gold. Evidently not enough to pay for the bandit’s service. The small room had a desk, upon which there was a couple of books. One was wrapped in a false binding, claiming to be A Children’s Annuad. But those children’s stories were never quite this large. The second book was a journal that seemed so threadbare and worn that it lacked a binding. In it were simple ramblings about leaving Cyrodil and not paying the bandits. There was one last page at the back, stating that there had been a book in the deepest part of the ruins, and he couldn’t help but study it. A final note was at the bottom of the page. Captured Dreams. Elayne rubbed her arm with a rag, hiding any evidence of blood. She hadn’t heard of that before, but that was the sum total of the items in the room.
“Nothing else in here…” She whispered. “It must be this.” Her hand touched the larger book, the pages almost moving without her input as the book slammed open.
Captured Dreams was the title. That was the name of the book! She turned the page, seeing broken letters that came together into words depending upon which way you turned the book. Flipping it over, she could barely make out the word ‘Mirror’ before having to turn the book sideways to finish the sentence. “Mirrored,” She spoke aloud. “Experiences.” The words seemed to shift, the book drawing more of her attention as she turned it once more to see where the sentence led. “Stolen Secrets?” She sounded out, as the book glowed. “Ahh!” The world around her darkened completely for a moment, until the light returned. The room around her lacked the body of Maluril or any signs of his being there. It looked cleaner, if anything.
“Are you alright?” The nord bandit called through the door. “Miss?”
“I’m fine.” She called through. “But Maluril doesn’t seem to be here.”
The door opened, the Nord looking different. His hair was cleaner, and his armor lacked stains or dirt. “Don’t know anyone by that name. You ready to examine the rest of the ruin? I am sure your Synod will profit from whatever is at the bottom of this.”
Elayne was confused. “But what about Maluril and the dynamo cores?”
The Nord shrugged. “You told us you were here to see the points of interest. No idea who this Male-uh-reel is.” He looked her up and down. “You’re a bit overdressed for a tour.”
It was just armor. He could get over it. “Fine.” She said. Whatever had just happened was magical in nature, and she should really just get out of here. Sliding the book into her bag, she gave a final glance around the room she had just killed someone within. Not a single sign was on the floor or walls. But there was some blood on her sleeve from when she dragged the corpse. This didn’t feel like an illusion, but it did feel like a trap. “Show me this place.” Elayne could use an invisibility spell and escape once she was back in the hallways.
But even those seemed different. Wagons had been cleared out. Dust still cluttered the corners, and there were clear signs of organization. Cogs and levers were in piles, and a few dwemer chests were in clean lines across the ground. “We finished clearing out the upper levels, but the lower levels still have some spheres and spiders from time to time.”
“This seems organized.”
“Ever since the Dragonborn came through here, we’ve all been changed for it.” The Nord grinned. “He showed us so much, and kept us out of the war.”
“The war is over?”
“Not by a long shot. Stormcloak may have lost at Whiterun, but Tulius lost at Dawnstar.” The Nord added seriously. “Anyone that wants to stay out of the war can come to one of the three dwarven ruins and become part of the group staying out of the war. We fight the Falmer in the places they come out of the ground, and can sell anything that comes up from the deeps.”
They came into the room with the cookfire, and Elayne was wracking her mind with thoughts. “But the Dragonborn..”
“He’s the greatest person to have come through Skyrim!” The Nord cheered. “He stopped Alduin, and then Harkon and Miraak after that!”
“Harkon? Miraak?” She started to ask, before looking over at the fire. “Oh Gods!” Right next to the fire were a man and woman, lacking any kinds of clothing whatsoever. He was also balls deep inside of her! Body heaving, the woman was holding onto a bench as her entire body shuddered around each of his thrusts.
“Oh, Merelda!” The Nord smirked, looking over. “She got cursed a while back. Another month and she should be over it.” There was another Nord in the room, just simply watching this happen. Her clothing was skimpy in a way that even the Forsworn wouldn’t dare to pull off. “She just needs her fix.”
“Why not in a bedroom!” She averted her eyes, blushing madly.
“Because of her curse.” The Nord explained. “Look for yourself!”
She dared to look between her splayed fingers, watching as Merelda rode the man, moving forward and then quivering back to slam into his hips. It was hot to watch her do it. Elayne felt warm, watching someone else having sex right in front of her eyes. It was entrancing, in a way. Then, all too soon it came to an end, Merelda pulling the cock out and aiming it into a bowl. “Wait, no!” Elayne whispered, realizing what she was doing.
“Oh yes!” The Nord laughed. “She likes it in her soup, thanks to the curse.”
“What is her curse?” Elayne dared utter, entranced as she watched Merelda fill her bowl of soup with the product of her coupling. “What is she doing?”
“She hates blowjobs, so this is the next best way for her to survive her curse.” The man next to her explained, letting his hand rest on her back. “But women are like that, huh?”
Elayne felt flush as she watched Merelda drink her soup down. Her throat rattled right along with the other woman’s as she watched her swallow. Merelda seemed to be equally flush, naked and thrilling as she drank gulp after gulp of soup. Elayne barely realized that the hand on her back had shifted to rest on her enormous ass, giving it a squeeze through the armor. “Excuse me!” She yelped.
“Ah, you want the professional tour. Just my luck.” The Nord grumbled, taking his hand off of her. “Come on then.” He seemed less excited as he led the way deeper into the Dwemer ruin, the walls looking to be in better and better condition. The last she saw of Merelda was some skimpy pieces of fur being drawn up her legs and torso, an empty soup bowl in her hands. “The Dragonborn came through here like a thunderstorm.” The Nord started saying, drawing her attention to scars on the walls of powerful magic. “The sound of his voice alone was enough to convince some of us not to fight. Everyone else was just thrown from the walls and killed without a second glance. So much power in one person, it was just too much.” He mused. “I just threw my weapon down and begged for mercy.”
“All with just his voice?”
“Gods.” The Nord whispered. “I don’t think a lass like you would understand. He just shouted once, and every archer on the wall fell into the courtyard. They were scattered upon the wind and only one even got up. The chief tried to take him, but he said something and the next moment the chief was short his head, and the Dragonborn demanded our surrender. We of course gave him what he wanted.”
“And then?”
“And then he told us to join him in his crusade against the dragons and all other evils of the world. I can still remember our charge against the Dwemer Centurion. The Dragonborn ran right into the steam, like it didn’t even exist. All the way down here.” Their steps were taking them through corridor after corridor of bronze and copper metal and worked stone, until they reached an area with barricades facing inwards. These were made from dwemer metal, and had torches blazing from all sides. “Ah, this is the gatehouse.”
The buildings here were half-submerged in water, but the construction was immense. This must have been a city to these Dwemer. The final section was full of barricades and other well dressed bandits and mercenaries, all of whom gave them appraising looks. “What is this?”
“A device.” The Nord gave her shoulders a pat. “Told you that you look overdressed. They think you’re some kind of Thalmor prude or something.”
“I am not a Thalmor.”
“Elven armor that covers that much skin? Liar.” The Nord countered. “I believe you aren’t a Thalmor. A prude, though? Absolutely.” He laughed. “So, this device can take someone all the way down from this gatehouse to Blackreach. It’s where the Falmer warlords and warbands are bred and created.”
Past the barricades was a large device, some kind of moving box. But there was a curious set of stairs to get there. “How do you get past all of this?”
“The Dragonborn was powerful enough that he went in alone, and came out four days later. Covered in blood and carrying three bags of gear the size of a man. Enough loot to retire with. But he charged us with keeping anything that came up that device dead. Once you open the skeever’s den, they will always look for a way out. And the Dragonborn doesn’t know how to turn off dwemer devices once he turns them on.”
“But how did he turn it on?”
“Lass you are asking a lot of questions. My tongue is getting dry just thinking about it.” He grinned lavisciously. “Why don’t you give me a kiss and I’ll show you how.”
“I would never!” Elayne said hotly, stamping her foot.
The Nord growled. “I am just trying to be nice to ye, lass! Now you are being rude!” He turned towards the exit. “This tour is over.”
She had to know how this worked! She was the Dragonborn, and this was a secret that she needed to know. “Wait!” She said, quietly. “Just one kiss?”
“After you’ve humiliated me in front of the other guards?” He hissed quietly, making her keenly aware of the five other men on the barricade watching them. “Beg me for a spanking, to apologize.”
Elayne felt a heady heat running through her body. She needed to know this secret. She needed to save the world. “I’m sorry.” She said clearly. “Please spank me.” She said awkwardly.
“For my insolence.” The Nord whispered, giving a glance back at the other guards.
“F-for my insolence.” She shakily repeated.
It was humiliating. She bent over in front of all of these people, and waited as this Nord laid his hand on her. Oh, he did. The sharp slaps made her entire ass ripple, the armor bending under his strikes. Or so it felt like. But it ended, thankfully before she started crying. Elayne was the Dragonborn! She wouldn’t cry over something like this. She couldn’t! It was just a spanking, after all. One spanking to save the world. Her ass radiated pain as she stood up, the Nord looking quite pleased with himself. “Now that we’ve properly apologized, I’ll tell you. The Dragonborn had a special sphere. Apparently it was some kind of attunement sphere or something or other. He plugged it into right here,” He led her using a hand on her hip over to a slim altar. “And now it’s on forever. Just in case we go on some kind of raid down there, we don’t break it. There are two other places like it, with the same devices.”
“I might need to visit those places.” She offered, holding herself together as her ass reminded her constantly of what just happened.
“Alftand and Raldbthar are the other two places. Almost across the entirety of Skyrim, and past Eastmarch! They aren’t as well staffed, yet.” The Nord was just keeping his hand on her hip, making her skin itch. “Is there anything else you wanted to know?”
“Where did the Dragonborn go after coming here?”
“Oh!” He brightened, leading her back to the surface. “He was heading for an island in the north, past Dawnstar. Called Yngvild. Did a great service killing a necromancer up there.”
The Nord’s hand was on her hip the entire walk back to the surface. She was acutely aware of it, the warm moonstone of her armor seemingly reminding her frozen ass that it had been worked over. “Thank you for the tour.” She said, sliding out of his grasp as soon as they reached the outer doors. “Blessings of the Aedra upon you!”
“Don’t freeze out there!” The Nord cheerfully replied, waving as he went back inside the ruin. And leaving her in the frozen dusk and frigid wind. But it was better than the sights she saw inside of that place. Elayne bolted, snow being kicked up by her elven boots as she ran around a bend in the road.
“This. This is madness! I’ve never heard of a curse like that!” She rubbed her ass, still radiating painfully. “He spanked me! Oh, I should have charmed him…” But why didn’t she? She had figured out how to get to this Blackreach place, which must be important somehow. And he went to Yngvild. Elayne reached into her pack, mostly to grab her map to find this place. But instead her fingers brushed a different item. It was the book that had started all of this. She pulled out Captured Dreams, seeing it still glowing. The page only had one letter glowing upon it, all others grayed out to the point they couldn’t be read. “This must be some mad illusion.” She murmured, pressing her thumb to the small P rune.
The world spun for a moment, coming back into focus a moment later. She was still outside of Mzinchaleft, and it was still frigid cold. The sun was going down, and she could hear yelling from the old ruin.
“She killed the mage! Find her! I want her skinned alive for this!” The orc chieftain was bellowing. “Find that Synod mage!”
Her neck itched, feeling heavier than usual. Running a hand up to it, her fingers ran into something. The crude iron was familiar, since she had been playing with this item the entire carriage ride to Morthal! Both hands looked for a way to get it off, but it was snug against her neck! “Oh no!” It was an unbroken piece of iron. “How?!” She could hear the bandits making louder and louder noises. They were going to find her, and in this snow she was going to leave footprints. “Waterwalking!” She cast, running across the top of the snow and leaving no trace. It appeared she had actually killed Maluril, but was the rest of that an illusion? Was that her imagination? Her extremely sore ass made the case that it was in fact real, but magic could be a very dangerous thing.
Running into the night, Elayne tried to ignore the iron circlet around her neck.
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Skyrim: Plaything