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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
- 8
- 9
- 10
(Note/Warning: Extremely questionable themes. Adult ++)

Chapter 9

The first thing the Altmer noticed upon waking was that he was sitting upright with his back pressed against the back of a pole of some kind. Before he was even able to discern what was going on with his eyes adjusting to the lighting, he could tell he was heavily bound about his entire midsection. The weight around his neck suggested that it was weighted as well. His arms were pulled behind him and stretched taut against the stone structure.
His brows pulled together as he blinked away the blurry images before him. They faded away into grey stone walls and black bars. A lantern to his left cast that irritating bright light.
“Mrnnh………..” He groaned and shifted against the stone. From head to toe he was sore; wretchedly so. He tried moving his right leg out which only sent a spinal tremor painful enough to make him cry out. So much for having those free; he’d not be moving them again. “Aghk……..gods….what has become of me…”
“You have fairly good timing. I only just finished chaining you up there.” A deep voice interrupted from behind him. He jerked his head in that direction; immediately seeing his ‘favorite’ Jarl in the room with him. The man was seated at a small round guards table.
“Hrrmn.” He glowered in deep irritation. The Altmer now realized that he sat upon the floor and that the structure he was pinned to extended far up into the ceiling above. They were somewhere in the dungeons, but not a room he recognized.
“I am far too tired to deal with your company right now……” Ondolemar complained and lowered his head; eyes closing again.
Ulfric released a low chuckle. “You are tired? You, elf, are the one who would not shut your mouth the entire night long.”
He stood up and Ondolemar could hear his boots headed in his direction. He grimaced and cracked his eye-lids slightly open to sneer up at the Nord. “I believe I said I am in no mood to deal with you.” He informed with sharp emphasis on each word whilst straining his neck up at the Nord; teeth bared.
Ulfric Stormcloak remained un-phased as usual. “Anything else to run your mouth about before you become unable to?”
The high elf took a few sharp breaths and shifted uncomfortably at this choice of words. “You can not blame me, Nord. Even a far less dreadful person would have done the same in my place……..”
Ulfric’s brows rose nonchalantly as he pulled out what appeared to be some sort of pliers with a reversed end that looked eerily like they were meant to pry jaws open; probably a mortician’s tool.
“You are not serious.” The Altmer pushed back against the stone and turned his face as far from the man as possible. “I will apologize if I must- just-j-“
The Nord seized Ondolemar’s prominent jaw-line and held it fast and firm. “Apology accepted-“ He replied with complete indifference before shoving one side of the hooked metal between the elf’s teeth.
“N-No wait!! Please, you heartless wretch!!” He expelled a noise of distress and agony as all of his fussing made it easy for Ulfric to jam the tool in and force his jaw open as wide as it would go.
Locking it into place with a third metal brace, he then reached into his coats as the elf tried to twist away in terror. “You seem excessively nervous before you even know what it is I will do-“ The Nord noted calmly before cruelly grabbing the elf’s warm tongue with his two rough digits. “Is it this you worry so about?”
Ondolemar’s face blanched white at the irony taste of Ulfric’s callused skin grasping firmly to this delicate muscle. The elf could not protest, but his brows turning up, eyes clenching shut and panicked breaths escaping said it all. He was terrified.
The Stormcloak watched him a moment before letting his tongue go. “I will have to remember that..” He grumbled to himself. “Be thankful that it amuses me too much to remove it now-“
He gave the slightest smirk and Ondolemar realized with intense chagrin that the man had been bluffing. His face, so pale a moment ago, now flushed a deep pink. His brows and eyes immediately slanted in rage at the Nord.
“Now, this is what I was going to do-“ Ulfric pulled something else from his cloak and popped it between Ondolemar’s teeth. A circular piece of rolled steel that formed an O shaped opening. The man removed the pliers as he worked this new bit in, and pulled the attached straps firmly about the elf’s head; having to shove back his hood to do so.
Ondolemar was absolutely mortified as he found himself unable to close his jaws about this gag. He tugged back away from the Nord’s grasp and shook his head from side to side to attempt to dislodge the straps that held it to his face. He emitted tons of anguished, offended noises and gasped through the thing as he tried to kick out or twist about with his sore legs.
His entire face scrunched up in fury and his nostrils flared as Ulfric pushed a hand back under his chin and forced his gaze upwards.
The Nord had produced some sort of red potion and was popping the cork from the glass that held it. Before the elf could do much to stop it, he’d dumped the entire container into his mouth. He choked and sputtered as nothing could stop the bitter fluid from going right through.
The Altmer’s protesting snarls and growls were ignored as Ulfric casually pushed two digits through the opening to press upon the top of Ondolemar’s tongue. He stroked the slippery muscle and made the Altmer twitch violently in revulsion. The elf attempted to pull his tongue to the back of his throat and continued twisting his head until the Nord finally let him go.
The ragged breaths and desperate grunts marked his struggle with the chains and straps that held him in place; intensity in physical strain that was all wasted effort in the end.
“You know. I almost feel guilty…….” Ulfric noted apathetically. “But then I recall you being the man who murdered a line of innocent people in front of me.” There was a dangerous twinge to the last of his words.
Ondolemar sunk back against the stone in bitter resignation. He put his head down once more, but hurriedly looked back up as he noticed Ulfric just walking away towards a heavy door across the room.
The high elf’s brows knitted and he gasped lowly.
The Jarl turned about with a brief pause. “No…not I. I have disgusted myself enough as is……..”
The Altmer felt a heaviness in his limbs that was unlike the chains weighing him down. This was much worse; he could barely keep his head up for the muscles just wanting to give in. His body was not keeping up with the intense distress felt by his mind.
He could only manage to glare fiercely as Ulfric’s presence was replaced by several newcomers. Where the Nord had found these pieces of filth, he did not know, but such a motley bunch he’d not seen before. A large male orc shoved a key into the locks that held the chains and he felt himself helplessly sink forward into the floor only to be kicked over on his back. A ruthless female dark elf, a scarred, ragged male Khajiit and a one eyed Breton made up the rest of them.
“It is him!” The Khajiit rolled his tongue; voice rasp and hoarse. “Me doubts he would recognize a one of us now……mn, ‘Lord’ Ondolemar?”
Ondolemar’s eyes squinted as one of the creature’s claws hooked into the horrid mouthpiece. “This is a good addition, no?”
“If by ‘good’ you mean I can stick my dick in it-“ The Orc snarled to which the cat replied: “You may if I get the other half hahe.” The high elf clenched his eyes shut and felt a horrible ache in his chest. His arms were now freed as were his legs but they just lay limp and useless. He was wondering deeply if it were possible to voluntarily kill one-self whilst partially paralyzed.
“Throw em on the table!” The dark elf hissed impatiently.
He winced as the orc picked him up and dropped him over the table as ordered before he desperately wished he could just simply die. This too small structure did not keep his head from falling over the side, which did not seem to matter as he soon found his face grasped by large oily hands.
Ondolemar clenched his eyes closed and breathed hard through his nose as a large, knobbed Orc member was shoved deep into his maw. The taste was horrendous and that was not even as bad as how it lay over his trembling tongue and shoved hard at the back of his throat. Loud appreciative groans and grunts rose from the man’s body. The high elf was dealing with this trauma when clawed digits ripped his dark pants off and black fingers ruthlessly pulled his robes awry.
The wretched cat was as deep inside him as the orc was in his mouth in mere moments. The piercing sensation of the things cock felt much more sharp and painful than he’d remembered penetration being the day before. He did not need to feel as much sensation as he was right now; getting a wretched high off of the rapid oxygen depletion and drugs.
The dark elf female dragged a blade across his bare chest with just enough pressure to draw a fine, stinging line of blood. She was etching something painful in his flesh and smearing whatever fluids she could squeeze from him.
From that point on, things mercifully faded out and in and in and out before going black altogether.

*
Jarl Ulfric was not one for second thoughts once he had made his mind up about something and this day was absolutely no exception. Even still, he felt the need to speak with Galmor about the previous night.
“As I thought, the sleep deprivation made his tongue very loose….he betrayed many useful bits of information. Even unwittingly revealed the location of two underground camps I’d never have suspected……..” He stood over the maps, marking these locations now.
Galmor released a rough growl. “You see? Imagine what more we will learn from giving him a little encouragement. I still say you torture the mother fucker..heal him up…torture him again until he spills his guts”
Ulfric grumbled a few times and reached for his mug. “He would tell us nothing then…he would not even remember under such stress. A broken man is a man who talks…..” His words were morose. “If breaking takes too long you will only succeed in building a truly thick skin for the victim. They will become stronger for it and eventually feel proud of it…”
Galmor gave a rough scoff and laugh. “If they survive it..which they wouldn’t..”
Ulfric frowned and shook his head. “I did.” He rumbled.
The soldier made a face; obviously only now realizing that the comments were tactless. “That’s different and you know it….you were a true man. A great man-“
Ulfric put a hand over his face. “I was a boy, Galmor. A soft, well-meaning and stupid boy with a spine made of glass……..they made me what I am. I will not forget that, nor will I make the same mistake……….”
His right hand man rubbed at the back of his own head and grimaced. “You give them too much credit…” He shrugged and strode off.
The Jarl of Windhelm leaned over the tactician’s board and thought deeply to himself.
He was speaking with a few of the guards in the guards quarters sometime later when the crew of unsavory individuals came stomping up the stairs. Immediately the Jarl did not like the way they carried themselves and was especially wary of the excessive amounts of blood on the dark elf.
“You’re only condition was he was to live………..From the look upon you I am beginning to doubt you held true to your word.” Ulfric cut off the Orc and the Elf, but the others slipped past.
Their stench was unpleasant. The dark elf female was giving him a dirty look. “You said that he was to be kept alive, not that we weren’t to spill any blood. He is alive…….” She shrugged. “For now…..”
Ulfric nodded and headed past them. He should have known better than to trust a group of minorities with this task, but few Nords would lower themselves to such levels. That and the elf had family lost to Ondolemar. If she did kill him, he could not say he blamed her.
Even still, he felt deep-seated displeasure at seeing the high elf curled up in one corner of the dungeon room; surrounded by bloody smears and covered from head to toe in them.
The potion must have worn off, because Ondolemar was conscious. He was also stripped of all but his cuffs and metal collar and looked like he’d been drug through a shredder and then dumped in troll fat. Someone had removed the mouth piece, but not before breaking out one of his teeth and busting his lip. Blood still dripped from his mouth and bruises had already formed spattered in many splotches across his entire frame. His long arms were pulled up about his middle and his legs were pulled up close as well.
A light shuddering shook his frame, but stopped as Ulfric approached.
Blame was etched upon the elf’s cold, hard visage even as he strained to catch his breath. Not fiery, vengeful blame; but intense, icy accusation that quickly faded into shame as the elf turned his face away and sunk more into the corner.
Ulfric tried to save his pity for someone more deserving, but he could not help but feel sorry for the elf anyway.
“What happened to your father and his elf?”
Ondolemar’s eyes widened over at the man; framed by dark circles of exhaustion. This expression quickly faded back into resignation as he lowered his face against his knees. “They were publicly executed as an example.” He responded with a very hoarse, forced tone.
“For a race of such power, you are certainly limited when it comes to making your own choices.”
The high elf refused to respond to this; instead he raised his broad shoulders in a heavy sigh.
“No family….what of your friends or comrades?”

Ondolemar glared up at Ulfric with immense disdain in his sore voice. “No one will miss me. Is that what you want to hear? I dare say Elenwen will be the only one to realize I am even gone……”
The Jarl frowned and walked over to hold out a potion. Its color and consistency gave away its healing attributes. “Come with me. I will send for that Elenwen and see what deal she may strike for your return…”
The high elf stared up in disbelief before slowly taking the potion. Ulfric noted his bruised wrists and several broken fingers.
“You lie..” Ondolemar grumbled with a voice that cracked. He downed the potion anyway; immediately feeling the effects take hold and stanch the bleeding and soothe away the cuts and sores in his throat.
“Believe what you will….but I do not lie.” Ulfric folded his hands behind his back patiently.
Grimacing, Ondolemar pushed himself upright and began attempting to drag himself to his feet using the walls as a brace. His exposed chest glittered with fresh slice wounds; spelling out ‘murderer’ from his collarbone to his hipbone.
The full extent of the bruising, blisters and cuts was apparent beneath his so sacred skin which was now caked with sweat, filth and cum. His long legs seemed to strain to keep him up. Dried blood marked a trail from between his thighs, all the way to his knees.
Ulfric made a face of light aversion.
It was no easy feat getting the weakened elf to the healer, but at least the soldier’s remedial ward was not far. After a few stumbles, falls and refusals of help; Ondolemar collapsed on one of the beds here.
“See to it that not a bruise remains when you are done…” Ulfric notified the healers. “But leave the scars from the chest wounds…..many of his injuries are internal, so be careful not to miss those….” He glanced across the room to the high elf. “Please do have someone escort him to the baths afterwards…….” He added as a last thought before leaving.

In the throne room, he called forth a courier and had a message written out to the embassy. They were walking on thin ice in the country now and would be looking to hear from him anyway, but he warned the courier to be brief and get out as soon as possible.
- 8
- 9
- 10
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Heretics and Extremists

Chapter 9