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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
- 5
- 6
- 7
Getting back to Whiterun was a rainy trip. No one questioned keeping her hood up at all times, her new blue hair kept in a tight bun behind the large headband she wore. She avoided casting any kind of spells the entire trip, spending it with two couriers that didn’t even pay her any attention.
She learned that her new heeled boots were terrible in mud. Absolutely terrible. To the point that when she trudged through the gates she was near exhausted. Centuries of foot traffic had hardened the dirt and stone of the city’s walkways enough for the boots to find purchase. An invisibility spell was cast behind Warmaiden’s, and she ducked into Breezehome before anyone could catch her doing so. Cold and wet, she turned the lock in the door and sighed in relief. She was back, as much as she could be.
Setting her pack down, she saw a note upon the table. Gone Hunting with friends. It was in Lydia’s large script and pinned to the table with a cheap iron dagger. The ink had dried, so it had been a few days since she had left. Elayne sighed in relief. She was alone and could investigate her life. Gold and gems she put into a small chest upstairs. It contained her whole savings. This place was still rather bare, and she was saving up to pay the steward for better accommodations. But the cobwebs were gone, and the empty corners had only a little bit of dust. She felt relief in taking off her armor, and just decided to be comfortable in one of her dresses. The silver anklets were showing, but it hid the collar on her neck and the piercing in her navel. The headband she couldn’t bother hiding, and a glance in the mirror showed that her bun was looking messy. She had tied it in Solitude at the start of the carriage ride two days before, but it shouldn’t look this bad.
Deft hands undid the leather knot holding it up, and the blue hair tumbled from her head. Longer and longer it unfurled, coming down past her tiny miniscule breasts. Rippling bluish purple hair that no one should ever have hung plain upon her, and Elayne blushed. “I can’t half-ass this anymore. I need to know more!” Before this her hair had barely tickled her neck.
A collar. Cuffs upon her ankles. A piercing. Now a headband and hair that she couldn’t explain away. The sole table in the building was cleared of its wooden plates and bowl to make room for notes and journals. Captured Dreams was also placed on the table, wrapped in a double knotted breastband. Behind its fake cover was power, if she could just understand how to use it! Hermaeus Mora said that it could provide the secrets to stopping Alduin. It just took a price from here every time she used it.
Elayne was taking heavy notes on everything she knew about this, taking two days to write down everything she had seen and heard in her travels in one of the empty books she had stolen from the other world. With her normal journal rather full, it also included thoughts and concerns she had. The bluish purple hair, she discovered was rather permanent. Spilling ink upon the hair only stained it for an hour. It would grow back to its luscious long length if it was cut. The headband taunted her, working faster if she cast spells. But once it was grown out it stopped.
“This headband is forcing me to keep an appearance..” She noted, writing down in her journal. “The blue hair is like nothing I’ve seen on anyone, and wearing a hood is suspicious enough.” She yawned, feeling a little cold. Wrapping herself with a blanket, she sat back down in the chair. “How am I going to,” She yawned again, succumbing to sleep. Idly, she rested her head upon the table. “Figure this out.” Her hands supported her head, one arm leaning against the thick tome that caused her all of this trouble.
She was awoken by someone shaking her shoulder. “My Thane?”
Elayne opened her eyes. It was cold. Too cold. “Lydia?” She mumbled. Looking up, she saw her very confused housecarl. The fire was out, not even coals remaining. “How long was I asleep?”
“It’s morning, my Thane.” Lydia said, worried. “But you are different!”
Breezehome was different, too. She didn’t remember having garlic braids or herb hangings in the house. Or multiple chairs. It looked furnished. She felt a chill run down her back as she looked down at the table, and a large book open upon it. “Oh no, Lydia you didn’t!”
Captured Dreams lay open on the table, a single rune glowing in the middle of the page. It signified that it was active. “It was just a few words of a riddle.” Lydia said carefully. “But then there was some kind of magic effect.”
Stupid Pretty Lydia! She had activated the Black Book! “You idiot!” She hissed. “You are playing with magic you don’t understand!”
“That’s why I woke you.” Lydia said, chagrined. “But I thought you were practicing illusion with that hair.”
The blue locks hung past even Lydia’s hair when it was down. “This is real. And now you’ve activated the book. If you press that symbol, we go back to our world.”
“Our world?”
“This book, it lets me visit a different world. W-with a different Dragonborn.” She admitted shamefully. “He’s already defeated Alduin here.”
“So you want to know how.” Lydia understood immediately.
“But the book is dangerous!” She insisted. “Every time you use it, you pay a price. That is what this headband is from!” She drew her legs up under the chair, hiding the ankle cuffs. “Now we are going to pay a price for using it.”
“Well,” Lydia seemed to look uncomfortable. “I am sorry for interfering with your things, My Thane. I never want to increase your burdens, not when you are already expected to do so much. Should we return?” She hovered a finger over the rune.
“No.” Elayne said. “The price is going to be heavy.” She stood up, anklets visible past her skirts. “Let’s look out one of the windows and see what Whiterun looks like.”
The upstairs was vastly different. Lydia’s room no longer had a bed within it, and was instead a large mannikin and a small plaque. “Oh no.” Elayne whispered, reading it.
In loving memory of Lydia. Who bore the burdens of heroism. Died at Volskygge fighting two dragons and a dragon priest. Dates were given for her age, and Elayne looked over at her Housecarl. “I.. died.” Lydia whispered. “Fighting two dragons?”
“You did more than that, I think.” She pointed to the mannikin, where instead of armor pieces of dyed red leather sat. Thigh high boots with laces going all the way up covered the legs, and the arms had gloves that seemed enchanted, but went all the way up the arms. Nothing covered the torso, but the neck was covered with a collar that went from the ears to the shoulders, with thick laces and imposing red leather. “This is…” She didn’t want to finish the sentence. Her words would have been barbaric or domineering.
“Thoughtful.” Lydia finished the sentence. “The amount of detail is significant, and probably custom fitted. That’s expensive, and signifies importance.”
“I know we barely make ends meet from my adventures,” Elayne started to say.
“But I am alive with you, My Thane. Please don’t think this means I will abandon you.” Lydia held her arm next to the Mannikin’s, seeing the glove being almost a mirrored fit. “Let us see what your bedroom holds.”
Elayne pushed the large doors open with trepidation. She shouldn’t have worried. The bed was large, and quality made. There were a lot more hooks and rings coming off of it, but the room was derelict besides the blanketed bed. “It doesn’t look like anyone lives here anymore.”
A search of the house turned up nothing else of value. Besides Lydia’s memoir, the most they found was a potion of waterbreathing that had rolled under the bed. Not a single septim or helpful anything. Through the window they could see the rest of Whiterun, most buildings damaged or burned. “What happened?!” Lydia asked, shocked.
“In the other world, the war is fierce. Ulfric Stormcloak attacked Whiterun, damaging the city. But that means that we can get information.”
“This is terrible.” Lydia rubbed the dusty glass, trying to see better. “We need to know more to stop this from happening in our world.”
“The only way we can do that is if we go out there.” Elayne pointed out. “And I just emptied my pack of gold.”
“Meaning you have nothing to trade with.”
“I have nothing to trade with.” She confirmed. “Worse, if we leave the house we will get noticed like this.” She motioned to her dress. “This is considered prudish.”
“I can’t leave.” Lydia mentioned. “I’m supposed to be dead, here.”
“I know.” Elayne whispered. She was already blushing at the thought of what she had to do. Digging through her bag, she reached to the bottom where she kept things she didn’t like to share. “No armor, no money. And your boots are too large for my feet. I’ll just have to go barefoot.” From her bag she took out a blue linen dress. She had gotten it in Dawnstar, when Karita the bard had shared with her stories of the Dragonborn. It was thin, and backless. It wouldn’t hide her collar or ankle cuffs. But she blushed and changed into it anyways, leaving her breastband upon the table. Not that she had much in the way of breasts to worry about.
Lydia said nothing, and didn’t mock her for wearing something so skimpy. That professionalism was something she was grateful for. “You have a piercing?” Was her only question.
“More, soon.” She said. “That’s the price of using the book this time. Two more, somewhere.” Ears! Please be her ears!
Lydia nodded. “My apologies, my Thane.”
“It’s alright.” It really wasn’t. Elayne was seething. But stupid pretty Lydia wouldn’t understand what she just did. “We need gold and information. I’ll get that, at least.”
“I’ll stay here.” Lydia promised. “If you need me, come running.”
Elayne nodded. There wasn’t even water to drink in this house. Coming to the door, she started shaking a bit. “I can do this…” She whispered to herself.
“You won’t hide that hair?”
“This is the only outfit I have from this world and when I tried to wear my normal outfits I got mocked for it.” Elayne could feel her nipples harden. She had also gotten heavily groped for that.
“Perhaps you should see if Belethor has other clothes that fit you.” Lydia offered.
“But I have no money, Lydia!” Elayne murmured. “Belethor charges a fortune for most things to begin with.”
“Perhaps one of these might sell?” Lydia held up the outfit that was on the mannikin. She had removed it!
“No! Don’t touch that, the other Dragonborn probably set that up as part of his memoir of you!” She wailed, stepping over to Lydia.
“They’re enchanted.” Lydia countered, holding them to herself. “And it helps us understand this place.” If she didn’t know better, Elayne might have thought Lydia was feeling defensive.
“Wouldn’t they be well known?” Elayne pointed out.
“A fair point, My thane. I always keep a few septims on me, just in case.” She reached into her belt and pulled out her small coin purse. “Here. Between this and that old potion you might be able to get enough for something else.” Twenty two septims tumbled into her palm. But Belethor would be a hard sell. He always was. She set it in her bag, near the top. The gigantic set of harnesses and gag near the bottom seemed to call notice to her.
“I think I could sell this.” She held up the large object. “It’s got a name to it.”
“Oh gods!” Lydia looked at it, laughing. “I’ve never seen the like!”
“This belongs to someone named Serana. The ‘mage slave’ of the other Dragonborn.” She pointed out the label on it. “I bet it will sell.”
“That’s some gold for us. What will you do with it?” Lydia asked.
“Maybe I’ll buy something more decent to wear.” Very important to Elayne! “But I might need it to bribe someone into telling me how the Dragonborn defeated Alduin.”
“Farengar would be good to talk to.” Lydia pointed out. “As the court wizard he could answer better than the priests or that handsy bard.”
Mikael! Oh, he was rude. Elayne shuddered. In this world he might be worse. There was no way she would get information out of him without being completely humiliated. If this world was any indication, of course. “I’ll go see Belethor first, and then Farengar.” And try not to get spanked by Mikael. “I’ll avoid the Bannered Mare.”
“I’ll pry up some floorboards.” Lydia joked, smiling. “See if anything is hidden here. Good luck, my thane.” She gave Elayne a nod, as if that could convey some kind of confidence. It was still Elayne that had to go outside in a backless dress without a breastband!
Before she could lose focus and give up again, she opened the front door and stepped out. The street was empty, but she already felt red heat flooding her cheeks. Belethor’s shop was just up the road, and her cold feet slapped the ground as she walked fast up to his door. The sun was out, and the marketplace was full of its normal moving crowd. Ysolda was at her stall, topless. Topless! In plain sight! Elayne averted her eyes, pushing the door open to Belethor’s shop.
It was the same smell as always, with a few extra chests and items on display. In fact, the amount of wealth in his shop was absolutely staggering. She was used to the shelves being half empty or full of knick knacks. There was even a mannikin off to one side, with a set of armor upon it that looked like it was made from bone and sinew with ebony engravings. A truly massive war axe rested next to it.
“Barefoot and pregnant, eh?” Belethor called from behind his store. “You’re new in town, I can tell.” But she really did know him! Just in the other world.
“This armor looks amazing.”
“Dragonscale armor.” Belethor grinned. “Not for sale, at least not for a slave like you.” Dragonscale could be turned into armor? She had never thought about it.
“Slave.” She felt the collar on her neck. “I uh,” She came up to the counter, bare feet feeling the wood of the floor. “I need some supplies.”
“Do you now?” Belethor chuckled. “What have you got?” This world was sick and wrong in many ways, but at her heart Elayne was the daughter of a merchant. Haggling was in her blood. She needed at least thirty gold for this potion, or else she and Lydia wouldn’t have enough for anything.
“I’ve got a potion of water breathing.” She stated. “And I am looking to buy, once we finish selling.”
Belethor was smiling. His shop seemed overflowing with goods. “A girl like you? I might have questions about where you got that potion.” He considered. “I’ll give you fifteen septims.”
“That will barely cover a night at the inn!” She countered. “The ingredients for these are common, sure, but the histcarp came from Morthal!”
“You can get chicken’s eggs and barnacles from a boat for cheaper.” He countered. “Ten septims since it came from Morthal.”
“You said fifteen!”
“You want twice as much as I can offer someone to buy it!” Both of them were smirking at that moment. Haggling was a long practice of Bretons.
“For the effort I went through to get the histcarp? Of course I do!”
“Then I’ll give you twenty. But not a sliver more!”
“Fine.” It was what she would have to accept. Forty three septims were in her purse. “I need some new shoes. The old ones broke.”
“Ah! So not the barefoot and pregnant type.” Belethor nodded. “But you are wearing a collar.”
“I uh, woke up after sleeping in a dungeon and it was upon me. I can’t get it off.”
“I can take a look if you want.” Belethor smiled. “The Dragonborn’s slaves used to get all kinds of things stuck to them. I’ve gotten them out of much worse.” He patted his counter. “Lean over so I can look at your neck.”
Odd, that he would say that instead of coming around the counter. Elayne shrugged, leaning forward so her chest was against the well softened wood. Her heart was beating slightly faster, knowing her entire back was on display for Belethor to look at. “I can’t see a way to get it off.”
“Yep.” Belethor placed a hand on her neck, the other pulling her now-blue hair out of the way. “Ancient nordic torc collar. Happens sometimes when you’re in an old ruin. Enchanted iron, meant to capture their slave labor.” His breath was hitting her bare back, goosebumps breaking out along her arms. “So you don’t belong to anybody, huh.”
“No.” Elayne said, face still on his counter. His body was awfully close to her, but she didn’t find that too bad. If he knew how to get this off, it would help a lot. “I guess I have bad luck for those cursed items though.”
“I could get that off of you for three hundred septims.” Belethor gave her shoulder a pat. “It’s going to take some serious materials.”
“Three hundred?!” She rose up off the counter, glaring. “What kind of materials are required?”
“Embalming tools, some burial urn dust, and some bone meal from a draugr deathlord.” He grumbled, looking around. “Or a Dragon Priest.” His eyes ran down her body, as if appraising her. “You want those anklets off, too?”
“I don’t even know what those are.” Elayne murmured. “I’m more concerned about the collar!”
“I would be more concerned about those anklets. Those are trouble. You see, they are a more modern type of object invented by Aldmeri wizards of note. That’s moonstone you’re wearing on your ankles. And they are more devious than a simple unenchanted collar that just takes the bones and organs of a dead man to remove. You see, those anklets of yours are like magnets for trouble. Moonstone calls out to itself. So that headband of yours? Looks great, by the way. Probably having trouble because of those anklets.”
“How do you get those off? I haven’t seen any keyholes!”
“Ask a Thalmor.” Belethor shrugged. “I don’t know how to figure out those. That’s some of the most advanced slave equipment in Nirn you’ve got on your ankles. Next thing you know, you’ll be prancing around in those heels the elves think are so pretty.”
“I already got a pair of those.” Elayne grumbled. “I need more clothes, though. Something for when I need to meet important people.”
“For the amount of gold you have, I don’t think I could help.” Belethor said honestly. “You’re rubbing together debris from the war or cheap crap from a nordic ruin and trying to make gold come from it. I bet with your gear I could get you a set of shoes and something you can wear at home for your not-master.”
Elayne frowned. He might be right, on that at least. “I have one other thing I need to know the price of.” She dug into her bag, reaching towards the bottom. Dragging out the item she got in Yngvild, she held up the mass of straps and ebony sphere that was aptly called ‘Serana’s Bitch Tamer’. “I found this in my travels. I know it belongs to the Dragonborn’s Mage Slave.”
“I’ll give you one hundred and fifty.” Belethor began his barter.
“This is a unique item made with ebony!”
“And I’m offering one fifty for it.”
“Ebony items are never under five hundred in value!” Belethor had told her that himself. But haggling was a time honored Breton tradition. Imperials could find gold in a marsh shithole, but a Breton could argue until creation ended about the price of bread. “And this is custom designed for Serana!”
Belethor seemed to give her a new level of respect. “Well, someone has gotten big for their britches. Why don’t you pay for some boots so you can look me in the eye when you claim such a bald faced lie.”
Mocking her height was something elves did on a regular basis. It didn’t phase her. “Tell you what, Belethor.” She said with poise. “I’m going up to Dragonsreach after this. Give me some shoes and an outfit that will get me some respect up there and I’ll commit to paying you full gold for it.”
Belethor was being stubborn, and they both knew it. “You know? Perhaps it is worth more to me than one fifty. But right now you’re wearing a slave collar. Perhaps if you showed me the kind of praise you might show your master, I’ll give you the full price for the ebonite and moonstone gag you have there.”
Ebonite? What a curious name for a material. But then Belethor started taking off his pants, and Elayne colored. “What are you doing?” She yelped, turning away.
“What are you doing?” he laughed. “You’re the girl with a slave collar. You want more than one fifty, prove it!”
Elayne felt heat running through her cheeks. He wanted her to perform sexual favors?! She had always heard of rumors of that happening, but she had never been the subject of them! “I’m not having sex over this!”
“It’s just a blowjob, sweet cheeks. But wearing that collar? You’d be lucky if anyone at Dragonsreach allowed you inside. You look like a slave, and without someone to walk you in, you’ll get thrown out.” He chuckled. “I’m being rather fair with you, I think. You want a full price? Get on your knees and prove it.”
Elayne bit her lip. She had no idea what to do. So, with an eep and a squeal, she ran out of the store. She had cast invisibility before the door was fully open, and her heart was hammering as she slid to a stop in front of Breezehome, squeezing the door open only enough to get inside. Gasping for breath, she held herself against the door as her invisibility spell ended.
Lydia was at the table, her arms covered in the red leather gloves. She had a bit of a nervous smile on her face, even as Elayne’s face was cherry red. “My thane?” She looked up. “What is the matter?”
“It’s Belethor!” She said, almost wailing. “He won’t give me a fair price unless I give him a blowjob! But he says he can get off the collar!”
“That’s great!” Lydia smiled. “I mean, oh no!” She changed her tune when she say Elayne looking near tears over the idea. “...” There was a long silence. “Haven’t you ever given a man a blowjob before?”
“You have?” Elayne murmured.
“I was a guard for years before I became a housecarl, my Thane.” Lydia laughed. “Believe it or not, I know quite a bit about this kind of thing.” She held up the glove she was wearing. “These are enchanted to the point that I can carry twice what I normally could.”
“That powerful?” Elayne mused for a moment. “Wait, go back to the part where you know how this works!”
“The gloves and the bedroom toys or the blowjob?” Lydia asked with some snark.
“T-the blowjob.” Elayne whispered out.
“My Thane?” Lydia questioned, looking amused. “Do you want me to teach you how to give a blowjob?”
“He said that slave girls who wear collars like mine do that all the time.” She sniffed, emotional. “But I can’t afford to get this collar off unless I give him one!”
“Well, that’s not terrible. You aren’t agreeing to be in debt to him or incur penalties with the guards. There were plenty of guards in the hold that would take a bribe for a tumble in bed rather than someone paying a fine.” Lydia explained, taking off the gloves on her hands. “Come on, I know just the right way. You’re woman, so you might have had to learn how to do this at some point.”
“No I wouldn’t have.” Elayne countered.
“What would your husband think?” Lydia returned.
“I don’t have one!”
“Your future husband would probably think it important, then.”
Lydia led the way upstairs, towards the main bedroom. She dug around in one of the cabinets, jiggling first one and then another until she dragged out an old bottle of alto wine. That she held up in front of Elayne.
“What is that supposed to be.”
Lydia held up a finger and then grabbed one of the gloves she had just been wearing. It slid over the wine bottle, covering the old dusty surface in bright red leather. “Practice.” It looked, well; vaguely shaped like something a man would have. “Now kneel down on the bed.” Lydia did so first, patting the area next to her. Elayne joined her, the shorter skirts hugging her thighs in new and odd ways. “I’ll show you what to do first.”
Lydia took the wine bottle and tilted her head upwards at a slight angle. Elayne felt a bit of warmth color her cheeks, as if she wasn’t supposed to be watching this. She started by licking the entire head of the bottle, before holding it up at the same angle as her tilted face. And then the bottle tip was touching her lips. Lydia kissed it, almost fondly. Elayne had to remind herself to take a breath. Then Lydia took the bottle between her lips and sucked on it, the entire object sliding past her lips until the rounded base of the alto wine smacked into them. Lydia seemed to take ages to pull back, the red covered top of the bottle coming almost out of her mouth before sliding entrancingly back in. All of this was done with the muscles of her jaw moving, and her throat constricting slightly. Elayne could feel herself swallow deeply as she watched Lydia perform this, the bottle sliding in and then out once again hypnotically.
Then, all too quickly it ended. The magic seemed broken, and Lydia wiped off the red covered bottle before offering it to Elayne. “See?” She said, taking a deep breath of her own. “Just like that.”
Elayne gulped. The bottle looked a lot larger in her hands than it did Lydia’s. “You’ve done this a lot?”
“Not a lot of female guards, my Thane.” She pointed out. “We needed a bit of an edge over the others if you wanted to secure good positions. But I didn’t have it too bad. A very patient boyfriend a few years ago helped. I wasn’t very good at first.” Lydia gave a nervous chuckle. “But it is exciting to have some level of control over men like this.”
“Yeah.” She agreed, truly having no idea. “Um, can you teach me through it?”
“Hold your hands up first.” Lydia explained. “Tilt your head. Don’t be afraid of it, you do that and it creates problems. Even if you are afraid, just put it on your tongue and focus on that. Keep the bottle,” Lydia’s hands pushed the bottle gently towards her mouth. “On your tongue.”
Elayne blushed, sticking out her tongue until she could feel the smooth leather at the tip. It didn’t seem all that bad, for a material. “Like this?” She asked.
“Now put your lips around it.” Lydia coached, letting Elayne guide the bottle in. It felt large, the bottle looking gigantic as it rested just past her nose. “Don’t be afraid of it, now suck it in!” Lydia helped it along, and soon Elayne felt like her mouth was being invaded by a leather bound intruder. She bit down, stopping it with her teeth. “My thane, this is generally the part where the man would slap you. Don’t bite, it goes very badly.” Lydia warned. “Now, open your teeth and suck on it.”
Elayne shuddered, loosening her jaw. Lydia didn’t wait, nudging the bottle forward until it was inside her teeth. She couldn’t shut her mouth now, not with the bottle in between her teeth. In slight panic, she mewled around it.
“Suck on it, my thane.” Lydia reminded. “Gods, your mother must have been a prude too.”
Elayne made a rude sound in her throat, but in her mind agreed. Her mother barely explained what the animals were doing when it came to sex. For men and women? The weak-voiced woman barely told her how to manage a chore, much less be a merchant. She was always her father’s child in that way. Some people just married for looks.
It was too bad she only got the ass end of the deal. “Suck!” Lydia broke her from her reverie, and she sucked reflexively. The bottle’s stem slid all the way to her throat, inch by gaping inch. She felt hot, in a way that she never had before. Elayne barely noticed when the base of the bottle’s stem smooshed against her lips, marking her mouth being completely full of bottle. Breathing through her nose, she tried to move back and forth on it like Lydia had, her entire body moving with her mouth. When Lydia finally took the bottle from her mouth, a trail of saliva connected her and the red leather for a long moment. Then the spittle dropped, falling upon the bed. “For someone who hasn’t done this before, you seem very good at it.”
“Um.” Elayne’s mouth felt like it had been defiled somehow, and she hadn’t even done anything yet. “Fast learner, I guess?” Or she was born under the Lover’s Constellation and refused to share that information with anyone.
“Just remember, don’t get it in your eyes.” Lydia made a motion of the bottle emptying. “It burns and you look humiliated until you can wash your eyes out. Trust me.” She winked.
“Alright.” Elayne felt flush, and reminded her body to move. “Thank you, Lydia.”
“Normally I would tell you to punch a man until he gives you what you want, but in this case,” Lydia dragged the red glove off the bottle. “I hope you act like a real whore.”
“M-me too?” What the hells kind of support was that supposed to be? Stupid pretty Lydia. “I still don’t know if I’ll be able to go to Dragonsreach.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll pry up some floorboards and you go look for information your own way.” Lydia smiled. “Bring back food! This place has nothing to eat!” Lydia called.
On her way to the door, Elayne passed the still open Captured Dreams on the table. It swirled with power, and she tried to avoid it. This world had the answers to defeating Alduin. She had to keep reminding herself of that, as this place was so confusing to her. But Belethor knew how to get this damned collar off of her neck, and that was worth a lot to her. Taking a deep breath, she used her invisibility spell and moved through the back alleys towards Belethor’s shop. He had a side door, one that faced slightly away from the crowded marketplace. She opened that, her invisibility falling soon after.
“Well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes!” Belethor bellowed. “The slave girl returns!”
“I’m here about your offer.”
“The offer has changed.” Belethor stated, his eyes staring mischievously. “I took the liberty of helping you find an outfit and shoes. Since you’re a Breton I thought you could handle it.” He pushed a bundle of fabrics across the counter. “I thought you needed something to show me you’ll keep your word.”
“My word!” Elayne shuffled her feet. “You’re the one who demanded-”
“You ran off!” Belethor interrupted loudly. “So, no haggling over the outfit. You want shoes? You want clothes? I chose for you, until you can get that collar off.” He motioned to the gear. “I’ll give it all to you for fifteen septims. It’s a fair bargain.”
“What about the ebonite?”
“Get dressed and we can debate that.” He pushed the outfit closer. “You backed out of negotiations, and that was entirely rude. I could have warned the guards, but I chose not to. You can get changed in the other room.” Belethor insisted.
“Fine.” Elayne said with as much dignity as she could muster. There was a set of heeled shoes, but the rest of the fabric looked very minimal. It was simplistic, a mockery of what would be considered a merchant’s dress. There was had to be more apron than skirt, and she tied it behind her neck dourly. When she stepped back into the main area, Belethor was grinning wildly. “Better for you?”
“Fits you better than my first wife.” The merchant chuckled. “Now, about that ebonite.”
“I want more than six hundred septims.” Elayne said quickly.
“I’ll agree to that, if you can at least pay up the difference.” Belethor said. Gods! She had been lowballing the price in her head! He wouldn’t have agreed so readily. Something that small wouldn’t be worth more than an entire suit of armor, would it? “Come around behind the counter, just in case I get other customers.” No privacy?! Anyone could walk in here and see Elayne doing this. Belethor must have noticed. “Come on, slave girl. Before I change my mind.”
The heels clacked on the wood and stone, before she got a good look at the other side of Belethor’s counter. It had plenty of nooks and crannies in it, with dozens of small shelves for different small items. A slim rug was behind the counter, easier for him to stand on all day. But that slim rug also was where her knees hit the floor, the cold coming through. The outfit covered nothing of her legs, and left her shoulders and arms bare. Making sure she wasn’t completely wretched, she finally looked up. And that was when she made eye contact. “Gods.” She murmured.
It was a cock. Gigantic to her current perspective, and it made her cross eyed to look at it, inches from the tip of her nose. “Get busy, slave girl!” Belethor chuckled. “Show me you want that gold.”
Thick and veiny, Lydia’s words came to mind. She focused on that, beyond all else. Tentatively, she brought her tongue out and made contact with the bottom of it. It felt warm in a way that the bottle she had practiced on had not. Heat was pooling in her stomach and other areas, as she knew without a doubt she was doing something no good women would be caught doing in public! Suck! She reminded herself. That’s what she needed to do right here and right now. It felt so wrong, but a part of her was excited. Her lips clamped down over the cock, her tongue still keeping contact.
It felt like her entire body rushed with heat as she started sucking it, moving her head forward and then backward when things got too full. Belethor was grunting above her, and Elayne just closed her eyes and focused. Her face and breasts felt hot, the world she knew came down to what was in her mouth and just keeping that from going wrong. She kept her panic down, and tried not to think about her teeth. Or biting. Or stopping from the slow drag of the hot rod in her mouth back and then forth.
Belethor’s hands took hold of her headband. He was keeping her from moving away from him, just as most of him was inside her mouth. “Open up, slave girl!” Belethor yelled, hot seed rushing into her mouth. She tried to panic, but his hands were keeping her head from moving away! More and more was filling her mouth, pressure building.
And then the doors to the shop opened. Elayne mewled, swallowing the load as she couldn’t see who came in. It must have been an entire minute that she sat there, unable to move back and blind to whoever was that was in the shop. Above her, Belethor took his hands off to exchange some gold with the customer. Elayne could feel her stomach boiling, her cheeks red and her heart hammering. Finally, it was over. But still she could still feel her mouth working. She had been sucking this whole time, and once she realized that, it took conscious effort to release the cock in her mouth.
Belethor was quiet for a moment, after she wiped her face. “Thanks again, Nazeem!” He called, the door shutting. “You’re not bad, Slave girl.”
Elayne didn’t know what to say, a foreign taste on her tongue and her entire body tingling. “Gold. Please.” She managed to get out, standing up. Blue hair fluttered, and she stepped around the counter and past the mannikin with dragonscale armor.
“Six hundred and fifty.” Belethor counted, making this the largest single coin purse she had ever gotten so far. During all of her travels she had bartered quite a bit but traded little. There was no need to rob tombs or disturb the lives of others if she could avoid it. “Thank you for your business, traveler.”
“Three hundred for getting this collar off of me.” Elayne said, taking a long moment to breathe. “Then I have other questions.”
“Can’t get that collar off of you, sweet cheeks. I’d need an embalming tool, a burial urn, and the bone meal of the most powerful draugr in whatever ruin that came from. Bring that to me, and I’ll be able to get your collar off.” Belethor seemed apologetic about that at least. “For those anklets and headband, you’d need to talk to an altmer mage. Calcelmo in Markarth knows a lot about those. Elenwen, too. But last I heard she was wearing a full set of it and chained to her desk for morale purposes.” He shrugged. “But that was the Dragonborn talking, so who knows.”
“You know him pretty well?”
“For over a year I was his favorite barter. He adventured and I would get all of the items he kept that weren’t weapons or armor. So I had dwemer items, falmer ears, knick knacks and ingots for ages. I was also the guy he had to talk to for getting objects off his slaves, so that was always entertaining.”
“He went looking for an elder scroll, right?”
Belethor smiled. “He went looking for three. I saw two of them with my own eyes!” Belethor held his hands out, almost the length of his torso. “Cases for them as long as my arms. Never told me where he found them, but I know for a fact what kind of places he returned from after getting them!” Belethor rubbed his hands together. “He’s been through almost every inch of this province in the last three years.” Three years! Elayne had to blink at that information. “He found the first one in Blackreach. Deep deep underground. Nasty place, to hear of it now. He and Lydia came back with so many diseases Danica Pure-Spring had them quarantined in the north tower for a week.”
“I think I know where Blackreach is.” She knew how to get there, at least.
“Most can find it.” Belethor nodded. “But he traded me something that doesn’t just come every day. There is an dwemer device down in that hellhole. Some kind of star-reading tower. He sold me some of the pieces. Curious glass and metal shapes, which I sold to the Synod for enough money to retire.” He sighed. “Too bad. I haven’t seen him in months.”
“What about the other Elder Scrolls?”
“That’s a bit harder.” Belethor smirked. “I tried to figure those out. Not a lot to do while waiting for customers. Nordic ruin, some vampiric stuff came from them. So could be anything.” He rubbed his chin. “Serana came back as his slave right about that time, too. As for the third elder scroll, well. The Dragonborn had moved most of his buying and selling elsewhere by then.”
“Sorry.” She apologized.
“It’s not your fault. You made my day, slave girl.”
“I have a name!”
“Elayne, I remember. And you’ve got quite a bit of gold now. Planning on spending it all in one place?”
“Can I buy a cheese wheel and some mead?” Elayne looked around. “The bread and dried pork?”
“That’s my dinner.” Belethor pointed around at the food mentioned. “But I suppose if you can still eat, you’re more of a slave girl than I thought.” Her face colored, feeling self conscious.
“Why don’t you own the bannered mare at this point, with that attitude?”
“Bah!” He laughed. “I blew all my savings this year. Gotta start all over.”
“On what?” Elayne decided to ask.
“Between my shop and Warmaiden’s, we were able to pay for a new wall around Whiterun. Bigger, even.” Belethor glowed. “During the siege there were a lot of people without water. I didn’t like that. So we don’t want that to happen again.”
“That’s one of the nicest things i’ve heard in Skyrim, Belethor.” Elayne told him with a smile. “I hope you really do get your savings back someday.”
“You too, Slave girl. At least now with that dress you look the part. Officially, and all.” He laughed. “Don’t get lost in the Dragonsreach dungeons! Irileth is a crazy bitch when it comes to her domineering fantasies.”
“Uh.” Elayne didn’t know how to respond to all of that. “Bye.” Another round of invisibility, and she dashed back to the comfort of Breezehome. When the door shut, she could feel the cold already seeping in for the night. Any warmth she had from her sexual performance died when she saw the state of the inside. There was no sign that anyone had been here. No book on the table. No laid out materials. “Lydia?”
There was no answer. “Oh gods, Lydia?” Try as she might, the house was empty. And Captured Dreams was gone. Only upon careful inspection did she notice the square band of dust on the table. “Oh no.” Lydia had used the book. Elayne was left behind in this crazy world. Her armor and weapons were in the other world. She bit her lip, terrified. She didn’t know the book worked like that. She was stuck! Worse, if she started a fire, everyone would know that Breezehome wasn’t empty. Shuddering, she drew the short slave dress around herself, heading upstairs to wrap herself with the thin blankets that remained in the house.
“I’m a slave girl in Whiterun. What the fuck.” Shivering, Elayne stared at the door and waited. Yet Lydia never came. Sleep claimed her, even as her despair rose.
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Skyrim: Plaything