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Heretics and Extremists	By : Inxathekhajiit Category: +A through F > Elder Scrolls - Skyrim Views: 5671 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own Skyrim, nor any of the characters from it. I receive no profit for the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 6
- 7
- 8
Chapter 7

He found himself apprehended again, and this time he lost what little privilege he had; which meant his clothes were confiscated and his hands bound back behind himself and his legs locked in heavier chains. The party kept up a lively trot- Ralof now nursing a headache and looking full of chagrin as they moved along.
He’d lost his chance, and soon the air around them became cold once more and the north-ward roads took them to the icier landscape surrounding Windhelm. He’d never been to the filthy city, nor had he ever had any want to go there. The walls rose up over them and the snow stung every inch of him; now without Ralof’s good nature to spare him from the bitter cold.
Immediately, he hated the place. They entered the gates and the party received a warm welcome from their family and friends in the bitter ice falling around them. The troop split up, but he stayed with Ulfric and two of the guards and traveled along the cold stone pathways to the ‘Palace of the Kings’.
Once he found himself within the walls, he wondered if he would ever see beyond them again.
The Altmer was send to the dungeons below the palace and was caged up once more like an animal. It was reminiscent of the interrogation chambers within the embassy, only this place was much emptier than theirs and looked as if it had not been used in a great deal of time. He felt wary of the tools and machines and could not stop pacing as the day carried forth.
The trip had been long and trying, but he felt no relief that it was over; only a stirring, familiar dread and anxiety.
Two days passed without a single word from above or a visit from any of the soldiers. He saw no one but the guards on duty and they gave him no insight on how long he would have to sit here wondering what was to happen to him now.
The quiet was pressing and he rapidly became antsy with boredom. His mind devised many plots of escape, but no possible real chance arose and his hunger and discomfort was occupying much of his mind.
Finally, an order came and to his surprise he was drug off to the bathing rooms and pushed into a wooden tub full of hot soapy water. He was scrubbed mercilessly despite his outrage, but could hardly complain too much. Being filthy made him feel inhuman anyway.
A healer came into the room and he was set upon a table to be checked over. Each bruise, welt, scrap and sore was eased away with magic. His cracked nails were repaired and cleaned and his teeth brushed and cleaned as he complained loudly.
This behavior was intensely suspicious, but he felt a quiver of hope in his chest. Perhaps he was to be brought before an assembly? Perhaps the madman had decided to make a deal with the Thalmor? Perhaps….his imagination was getting out of hand.
It was when a maid stepped into the room with a pile of clothes folded in her hands that his heart actually began to soar. Robes. Not just any robes either.
What had possessed these heathens?? Thalmor robes which were clean and crisp. He felt an excited chill as he slipped them over his freshly cleaned frame. It was as if he was donning his very skin that had been ripped away and returning in an instant all of his confidence. The soft gloves, boots and the hood completed the feeling of being whole once more.
Ulfric, that wretched Nord, had been right. These robes made him feel powerful again.
He no longer remembered that his neck and wrists still bore the cuffs and collar as he strode along behind the guard. He towered over the man and really felt that he towered over him now. They climbed the stairs and walked down the halls up to the throne room of the palace where Ulfric sat adjourning a meeting upon his throne.
He watched the Nord with fierce, cold eyes beneath the slight shadow cast by his hood and felt truly safe with this embrace of official cloth.
Ulfric barely glanced over as he spoke in that low rumbling tone to his men. Galmor was there, by his side. The captain glared back at Ondolemar and shifted from foot to foot with his large arms tightly folded.
Finally the Jarl seemed to take real notice and slowly dismissed the other soldiers around him. He stood up casually and brushed gently at his furs before turning his droopy gaze upon the elf in Thalmor robes.
“Follow me. We have much to discuss in privacy……..” Ulfric headed for the side door that lead into the tactician’s room.
Clutching his gloved hands, the elf followed with a firm, confident frown. He was annoyed as the man did not stop in here, but headed instead for the other door in the room. He didn’t know where it lead and didn’t really care either, but noted that Galmer was following behind him as if wanting to be given an excuse to receive a pounding.
Ignoring the brute, he followed Ulfric up a set of stairs and down a long hallway lined with doors. Then he kept in step as they headed up another set of stairs and through the largest door at the very end.
In this large room, he looked around in annoyance. Whatever it was must be important or very private to take it all the way to the Jarl’s quarters. He crossed his arms as Galmor entered the room.
“Galmor…you may leave now. Stay by the door if you please, but there are of course other guards about.” Ulfric made a motion.
Galmor gave a gruff ‘hrmh’ and nodded before leaving and slamming the door behind him.
Ondolemar looked expectantly to the Jarl as they were left alone. “If you are trying to stump me, you have my confusion…”
Ulfric seemed as if he’d traded in his usual ADD for a somber concentration. His intense blue eyes did not fall away from the elf and he looked as though he were deep, deep in thought.
It inadvertently made Ondolemar nervous and irritated. “For what purpose do you return the robes to me?”
The Nord leaned his weight to one side as he often did. His eyes cast from the elf for merely a moment as he glanced to the side. “To remind myself who you are and what you have done. It will make this much easier to do.”
Ondolemar’s mouth twitched down and his eyebrows narrowed as he felt a quiver in his chest. His hands lowered to his sides and he slowly turned his long boot-clad food towards the door. “Make what easier to do?” His eyes slanted-
-And then widened in shock as the collar blasted him with several waves of electricity. He cried out and stumbled as he grabbed for the wretched device. His eyes were closed tightly as he tried to contain the pain, but he still felt Ulfric’s rough hand on him and found his body being dragged along.
He was thrown face first against something metal; bars held up on either side by more bars-like a large ladder with a fair deal of space between each rung. His hood was pulled back and his neck was pressed hard into one of the cold metal bars. A leather belt was tightened about it so that he could not pull his head away. Two other vertical bars were attached on either side of this horizontal one, and he found his wrists tugged and locked into similar strips.
By this time, the shocking pain had stopped and he began to struggle in a stunned daze. “Ggha, you miserable bastard, w-what the, rgha- hell IS this!?”
Ulfric kicked the elf’s legs apart and shoved his right thigh up against the outer end of the vertical bar; strapping it by his thigh and then his ankle toward the bottom of the structure.
It was attached to a heavy metal bar that sat drilled to the wooden floor below and was slightly slanted at an angle. His knees were forced to bend and he could not free them from the two straps apiece that held them.
“GGHhhhh f-fuck you! W-wh-why lead me to be-believe this w-was over!?” He strained hard in all of his extremities as the Nord walked around to face him on the other side of this structure. He’d not even seen this thing when he came in..he’d been too busy looking at the bastard.
“You are more of a fool than I thought if you believed it was somehow over.” The Nord rumbled. “Did you not think you were going to answer personally for your sins?”
The Altmer groaned lowly and tried to turn his head up to glare at the man. “I thought you said you were not one for vengeance.” He snapped accusingly; having to strain to speak.
“Vengeance?” Ulfric frowned and raised his brows. “No…. Justice?..yes.”
Ondolemar spat a rough laugh. “Fancy word, same meaning.”
Ulfric strolled forward and put two hands on either horizontal bar; looking directly at the elf’s face with a casual frown. “You are right. Perhaps the better term is gratification then.”
Ondolemar grimaced and tried to follow the wretched man with his eyes as he walked out of his sight. “W-what!?”
It did not take him but a second to realize that there was a long standing mirror placed directly in front of him where Ulfric had just been. He noted how incredibly horrified and then disgusted he looked pressed up and confined against this metal structure. “You are indeed a sick bastard.” He snarled.
“What a thing to say to yourself.” Ulfric’s voice rumbled from as his rough hands brushed up around the elf’s lower middle; where he began unbuttoning the robe and pulling it apart and out of the way.
Snarling furiously, Ondolemar attempted to struggle as he watched this from the mirror. He released a sharp angry gasp as his dark pants were tugged down several inches and began struggling even more. “RRghghhhhh damn it!! You can not possibly be thinkin-“
“-That defiling your body in these robes will be like fucking over the whole Thalmor?” Ulfric’s deep voice replied as his hand untied the strings holding the elf’s loincloths in place.
Ondolemar emitted a loud noise of distress and pushed and writhed with all his might to no avail. “NO! STOP. You will NOT cross the sanctity of this line, Ulfric!!” His face was burning red, and catching his own expression and revealed privates in the reflective surface before him was only making his humiliation worse. He groaned unhappily and anxiously and jerked about as much as the structure would allow; which was very little. “Damn it all-!”
The Nord had left briefly to the other side of the room. He returned with a bucket and dipped a hand into it. It was all the elf could discern happening before a pause, then followed by a very wet, warm rag pushing up between his legs; guided by two fingers.
“GAh!! You-GHAGHh” He cried out miserably and wrung his hands open and closed as the cloth was shoved inside him with firm, dreadful pressure. It stung as it was pushed in, but that was not the worst of it. “You de-debased, Ugh… unapologetic, VILE- Ghha….. WRETCH!!” Ondolemar yelled; now closing his eyes tightly so he would not have to look at himself as this went on. He could feel the warm water trailing down his thighs as the rag was removed briefly before being returned with fresh warm water. “This is not how a real man handles his enemies!! T-this is a level of disrespect I would not have wished upon the worst of you!”
“The worst of us is nothing compared to you-“ Ulfric grumbled. “Would you prefer agonizing torture with blades and tools instead?”
Ondolemar hissed in and out a few breaths before snapping a glance at himself-red faced and beading with sweat- and replying. “Yes! No torture compares to this degree of disgrace-“
Ulfric released a low chuckle. “Precisely why I have chosen this-“
The elf jerked a bit as the fingers returned without the rag. He grimaced and snarled as the two lubricated digits slid deep into him. Even with whatever slimy substance that was upon them, he could feel Ulfric’s calluses and the subtle bumps of his scars. The pressure and desperate need to have these fingers out of him only increased as the Nord rolled and pushed them at every angle. Two fingers became three, and then four.
Only when the elf’s loud noises of protests had ended did he finally remove his hand.
He reached up and grasped the bar just above Ondolemar’s own hand with the slimy appendage and the Altmer took note of it in his reflection. He snarled through gasps that hastened when the other hand went up to grasp the metal as well.
“A-anything but this-“ He jumbled anxiously with slanted brows and fierce eyes.
Ulfric glanced up at the mirror with the slightest nonchalant look; clearing taking every moment in stride. “From here on and for the rest of your miserably short life, this is all there will be.” The pressure between the Altmer’s thighs increased significantly; identifying that wretched pushing flesh as the Nord’s manhood. He shuddered and lowered his head as it ebbed through his entrance.
“Who are you, elf?” Leaning forward, the Nord’s low voice was loud in his right ear and he could feel the man’s front over his back and the sharp point of pressure between them increasing.
“J-justicier…….”Ondolemar grimaced again; his voice a low groan of displeasure. “Lord Ondolemar…o-of the Thalmor…….and Aldmeri……dominion”
While he spoke, the length pushed ever deeper in. He could not begin to ignore it, or Ulfric pushing over and adjusting inside him. In a brief moment of low gasps and stillness, he could feel the things throbbing veins pressing firmly and stretching the walls inside him.
The Nord’s stillness was driving him mad and he emitted a low noise of great complaint to which the man responded. “This form belongs only to Ulfric Stormcloak now-“
Before the Altmer could snap an angry reply, the man removed himself and thrust in once more. The slick lubrication did not stop the painful straining sensation, and nothing could prevent that length hitting a hypersensitive spot deep inside him that made him jerk.
Then he proceeded to hit it again and again and again with slow, well-aimed strokes amidst Ondolemar’s low miserable groans of ‘no’, ‘cease’ and ‘please’. Every thrust brought an involuntary jerk from him externally and internally and every time he forgot to keep his eyes closed he would catch a glimpse of Ulfric’s solemn face over him as he delivered each pulse and stroke.
Just when he thought he could take no more, more kept coming despite his desperation for it to end; that constant pumping pressure of flesh slapping against him in an endless reminder of how he was being used here.
“T-this is b-bearable.-“ He lied and clutched his teeth tightly together as Ulfric did not even slow down. “Though how you manage to s-stay erect over an ambassador i-is n-noteworthy-“
The Stormcloak clutched at the bars and released a sharp breath through his nose as he took a much rougher, faster dive. “The steady squeeze of your bowels see to that-“ He grumbled; making Ondolemar deeply regret speaking. There was pleasure in that deep voice that made him feel sick.
What followed was a sharper, faster barrage of purposeful strokes which Ulfric’s frame seemed to take great ecstasy in. He never betrayed more than sharp gasps and a few fevered grunts before slowing down to several rough strokes to finish himself off.
The Altmer gasped through his clenched teeth and kept his eyes closed as the Jarl pulled out with a trail of cum he immediately felt splatter down the side of his leg. The man was still gasping lightly and released a low ‘mn’ of satisfaction as he let the robes drop back over Ondolemar’s now rosy rear.
Ulfric quietly cleaned up himself and was fully adjusted when he strolled back around before the over-exerted looking elf.
“I can tell you want to ask-“ Ulfric’s low voice sounded amused. “So yes, it was good for me.” He smirked and finished wiping his hands with the neckerchief in them before tucking it away.
Reaching forward, he pulled the hood on the elf’s cloak forward over his head and stepped back with a considering look as the Thalmor man leered searing daggers at him with his eyes.
“This is possibly the best position I have yet seen you in…” He noted with a slight nod.
“May you burn a thousand lifetimes-“ Ondolemar snarled at him.
Ulfric merely looked mildly amused. “Thank you for the suggestion, but I know what awaits me.” He strolled away. “Do you?”
The elf sought to reply furiously to this off-handed comment, but the Stormcloak had already opened the door and stepped out. “Galmer, he is all yours, my friend…..”
“You sure about this?” Came Galmor’s rough, raspy voice.
“Keep it to how I asked, but the lubrication should make that easy…….. All else is fair-“ Ulfric’s voice rumbled nonchalantly.
Ondolemar’s eyes widened and his struggles immediately rekindled. “Ulfric!! ULFRIC you INGRATE!! D-do not LEAVE ME with that!!” Desperate gasps choked from him as his struggles caused red welts to rise on his skin under the cloth.
Before he could even scream again, Galmor stepped into view with his arms crossed and a look that just bode ill on all levels. “Y-you will stay away from me, wretched pig!!” He cried and struggled more as the rough looking Nord stepped forward to grab his face with a large, dirty hand. He smelt like the earth, sweat and mead.
Snarling and biting out at the bastard, Ondolemar was despaired when he didn’t manage to sink his teeth into the fucker as he moved back around behind him.
“RARGHHahh! ULFRIC, YOU BASTARD!!” His enraged cry was lost in a choked sound as Galmor handled him much less carefully than the Jarl. He was also bigger, bulkier and had didn’t give a shit about pacing or aim.
This was even more humiliating than before as all of the previously spilled spunk inside him was splattered out ruthlessly and more added. This bastard also just had to grab his narrow hips and dig into the bones to add onto his immense shame and discomfort.
Ulfric leaned against the door outside after having closed it and just listened to the man’s anguished cries with clear contentment. They eventually died down into pained, furious little noises of protest and gruff, pleasured groans and small demeaning talk from Galmor.
Sighing to himself, the Jarl of Windhelm strode off down the hall.
- 6
- 7
- 8
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Heretics and Extremists

Chapter 7