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Dar'Yoon's Very Naked Adventures	By : Tokage Category: +A through F > Elder Scrolls - Skyrim Views: 26968 -:- Recommendations : 2 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I just wrote this because I felt like it, and shared it for the same reason. Bethesda Softworks owns The Elder Scrolls, Skyrim, Dragonborn, draugr, and mostly every other stuff that comes up, and I definitely don't make money

Chapter List
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It was a freezing stormy night in Skyrim, one of the types where basically anyone would love to go inside and under some fur blankets, with mead or something. Unfortunately for Olaf, he didn't have that luxury: he was going to be in guard duty for a couple more hours, which sucked balls.
Sure, he could handle cold just fine. He was a nord, and a bad motherfucker at that. He had killed people and once beat up a bear with his bare hands. He wasn't going to complain about shit, but secretly, in his head, he was looking forward to be relieved and getting to drink something and hit the bunk.
He had a pretty good vantage point from here. The cliffside outside the barrow overlooked the road and had a great view to the surrounding area: even in the darkness, he could see anyone trying to attack them from afar. Not that he thought anyone would try: he and his bandit buddies were all some of the meanest bastards you could find from Skyrim, and had given a lot of trouble to the merchant caravans and the occasional random adventurer. Who would ever be stupid enough to try assaulting them?
And then Olaf died.
Well, not instantly. His throat was cut by a knife reaching around him from behind, sure, but it left his brain about half a minute of struggle and panicked thought before it got the idea and actually dropped dead.
Meanwhile, the unseen attacker had moved on inside the barrow, slipping across shadows and making no noise whatsoever. He was pretty well-dressed for the cold: he had fur all over him, a thick cloak, and a face-covering hat that made his identity a secret. He had a shortbow on his back, a dagger in his right hand, which he used to stab the two bandits immediately inside to death before they had the time to figure out what was happening.
The attacker was none other than the mysterious hero of Skyrim, the Dragonborn. Having appeared suddenly from nowhere, he had gained a lot of fame lately with his many deeds of valor, slaying many bandits and helping a great deal of the good people of Skyrim. He was the only man that could slay dragons, and if he was ever driven in a pinch, he could, with his manly gruff voice, use the ancient art of thu'um, breathing fire and shouting people off cliffs.
Some claim he was the one responsible for wiping out the last remnants of the sinister and ill-reputed Dark Brotherhood. Others said he was responsible for pulling the Thieves Guild from brink of destruction, or was the Harbringer of Companions, or a dozen other conflicting and implausible stories. No one had seen his true face, and most of his enemies would never even have the time to notice his presence before he had killed them.
Here he stood with the fresh corpses of a couple unfortunate bandits, a blood-stained dagger in his hand. He cleaned it up and sheathed it, before starting to remove his fur hat: it was much warmer here, the heavy black door blocking the storm and cold from the outside, and the braziers lit to bring in light and comfort - which suit the Dragonborn just fine.
The hat was swiftly taken off and casually tossed to the ground, revealing the sleek, furred face of a young khajiit, undoubtedly female. She had a mostly black fur with some white spots to it, a short black hair, and her eyes were yellow and slitted. Her ears twitched about and she took a deep breath, clearly far more comfortable with revealing herself than hiding it. As far as khajiiti went, she was reasonably attractive.
She had a name, of course, one connected to her mild-mannered civilian identity when she wasn't around fighting crime and dragons as Dragonborn, and that name was Dar'Yoon. The prefix Dar' meant, in her native language, Clever or Thief, and she was undoubtedly both. With her skill and cunning, there was nothing she could not steal, be it wealth, lives, or hearts. It was clear that she also had a proper, healthy sense of self-esteem and confidence that all khajiiti shared: other races just thought them to be egoistical, bragging loudmouths, but fuck those guys.
She was hiding her secret identity partly in order to keep her private life separate from her superheroing, allowing her to take a break from fans and assassins from time to time. But mostly, she did it for the thrill of it. She did it so that she would have something she had to protect, something to put to risk, and to lose if she was sloppy. One big mistake and she would be exposed, her true nature bared for all with nothing to cover behind.
She loved danger. She was positively turned on by it. She actually did not like wearing clothes at all, and by deliberately making it such a risky business for her to indulge that vice (besides all the obvious stuff already associated with it), it would be all the more exciting and thrilling when she finally could do so. And with that thought, the hat on the ground soon gained company in more clothes.
The heavy fur cloak went first, freeing her from weight and allowing her to move better, stretch her shoulders. Her gloves joined in, revealing a pair of hands with long, thin fingers, moving free and dextrously, ready to open locks, pick pockets, or give gentle touches to her or someone else's body. Her boots were removed and kicked aside, her thin and beautiful feet settling on the cold stone floor, toes twiddling.
Her hands went to the hem of her fur armor and pulled it up, over her shoulders, exposing thin frame, with slim waist and slender stomach, some visible muscle under her fur and skin, the toned and well-kept form of a professional adventurer. Her breasts were small and petite - their size making it much easier for her to hide her gender - each decorated with a dark brown nipple. They went up and down just a little bit with each heavy breath, her face blushing hard, while her hands went down on herself to caress her chest, lift up and fondle the mounds of flesh, a little moan escaping from her throat. Man, she had been waiting to lighten up her load a bit.
The last garment, the fur greaves, were dropped down and kicked aside, leaving her naked for any bandit that would have happened to come up just then. Her legs were similarly toned as the rest of her body, her hips and thighs firm and well-built for her career: quite attractive, but looking like she could crush a man's throat between them (and indeed had, several times). Her long, fluffy tail swished freely behind her, ending in a curved lower back and a perky rear end. The lights of torches and braziers danced across her bare body, illuminating most of her, leaving only a certain point between her legs tantalizingly hidden.
Her hands ran across her hips and thighs, before one went up to her breasts again, the fingers of the other disappearing into that one block of shadows: she sighed and leaned against the wall behind her, teasing herself, her inner thighs becoming moist as wetness leaked from the shadow into the light. Some seconds passed before the hand left and came up to her face, her tongue extending to taste her own feminine arousal, even as her feet slowly and quietly slipped forward, into the shadows, to explore the barrow she found herself in.
Dar'Yoon was a highly experienced rogue, one that had fought, stolen, and fucked her way through half the Tamriel since the beginning of her career, over a decade ago, as a street urchin in High Rock. As a result, she had gotten very good at sneaky stuff like this, and was as such virtually unseen and unheard. If a passer-by knew for a fact that she was there, and looked very, very closerly, they might have seen a bit of light blue that was her night eyes, but that was all.
Her bare feet softly stepped on cold rock and little pebbles, feeling each gap in stone and each uneven spot, and later each puddle of cold water, closely and uncomfortably. Dust floating around and falling from the ceiling stuck to her fur, feeling like dirt and forcing her to stifle a sneeze. A chilling draft of air going through the corridors was felt by every piece of her skin and mane, going through her and around her and between her legs, ruffling her fur and perking her nipples as she shuddered, stroking herself. For most people, all these emotions would have been highly annoying and a very good reason to wear clothes, but Dar'Yoon disagreed: she felt like she was closer to the world, not separated from it by a layer of heavy furs and shit.
She had discovered, many years ago, that nudity had a great deal of practical advantages over wearing clothes. It was easier to move and hide, with none of the bulk or resistance most clothing - not to mention armor - offered. She needed no armor: it distracted her from hiding, so that was instantly ruled out. It was a well-known fact that having clothes made it easier to catch a disease when she was wounded - which did not happen often, but still. It offered an additional incentive to stay hidden, to try her absolute best and not get sloppy, because, well, she was fucking naked.
There were three more bandits downstairs. The first died before any of them noticed, a dagger wound in his back as he fell down with a groan and a thud. This obviously made the other two rather wary and scared, but the second one of them had little less time to react before a butt-naked khajiit pounced from the shadows in front of him and struck him to the throat, bathing her with his life essence as he gurgled and fell down. The third now faced this same khajiit, dressed in nothing but blood and dust, and naturally he was pretty terrified by this point.
He had time for one strike.
That was another thing about the lack of clothes: it made her more animalistic, bestial, in touch with her predatory roots. This turned her into a far more intimidating foe, those that she faced confused and afraid of what they saw, and allowed her to prey on that. More blood spilled on her as the last bandit died, drenching her body in red.
She backed away, breathing heavily, her heart pounding. She had been seen. That did not happen all too often these days, but for a brief moment, it had been a marginally dangerous situation: for a brief moment, her plans and rational thought had gone away, replaced by pure instinct and perhaps a little bit of panic. It had gotten her blood rushing and adrenaline flowing - which, being such an adrenaline junkie as she was, instantly rushed to her groin. She sat down in the middle of the torch-lit corridor, soaked in blood of the three corpses on the ground next to her, and forgot all about her surroundings.
Sex and violence were very close to one another for Dar'Yoon: she had been twelve years old when she figured this out, her first kill being the man that had shortly before taken her virginity (it had been consensual but complicated). She had masturbated then too, immediately afterwards, and usually got rather flushed and aroused after excitenment such as this. Having spread her legs apart, no shadows were left to cover her most intimate portions anymore. One of her hands dipped between her legs, to tease and rub her outer folds and the little dark red button above, before thrusting two fingers inside her, her tongue out and her tail twitching next to her. Her other hand was occupied with her breasts for a time, groping and fondling them, roughly tweaking a nipple, before likewise diving down to tend to her clit, the first hand having left it alone.
Her hands and fingers became instantly wet, which spread across her upper thighs, dripping down to her bottom and the base of her tail, as she vigorously fucked herself, blushing furiously and moaning lustfully, her eyes glazing out. She imagined the sounds she was making to reach to the other parts of the dungeon, attracting some more bandits to the room and seeing her in that state, unable to defend herself... they did not, at least not yet, but the thought itself was incredibly exciting, driving her to new peaks of arousal.
But that was another advantage of exhibitionistic adventuring: it was very easy for her to distract her enemies, and if she ever was overwhelmed, offer an alternative to get out of the situation alive and seek an opportunity for a surprise attack. She remembered the gang of argonians that had once ambushed her in Cyrodiil, about six years ago, who had been fairly easy for her to tie around her fingertip, even when she was unarmed and on spearpoint: she recalled their cold, rough hands exploring her body, their tongues licking her face and neck, and their large, reptilian tools invading her one by one, forcing her to be their pleasure slave for several days... up until after a particularly exhausting session, which had given her the opening to cut their throats in their sleep.
Tired beyond reckoning, her fingers covered in blood, and lizard seed on her face and breasts and dripping from between her still open nether lips, she had still been far too aroused to immediately go to sleep, and had to bring herself to one more release before collapsing, unconscious atop a pile of corpses. Now, the memory of this encounter was once again driving her further, thrusting her groin against her pounding fingers as she slipped down from the sitting position and lay on the dirty dungeon floor, her back arching and hips striking up, both hands furiously at work.
Given the circumstances, it did not take her long to reach to the thunderous climax. Her breath was let out as she came, a moan silenced halfway, a heavy tremble going across her entire body as her folds gripped around her fingers, contracting and trapping the manhood they were hoping to have been between them, soaking her hands, thighs, and the floor under her with her sexual juices. She struggled without breath for several seconds, feeling warm and raw throughout the orgasm, before collapsing down on her back, basking in the afterglow. As she managed to breathe again, it became longer and deeper, quite different from the short, ragged gasps of air she had taken before.
She stayed there for several minutes, despite the chaff of the cold floor and little rocks against her back and butt. Even now nothing seemed to have heard her, or come to investigate: at this point she was actually a little surprised and worried by that. She was sure this bandit gang was larger than just six guys.
Perhaps there was something else down here than just bandits?
She spent a little more time gathering her strength, before getting up, stretching, and slipping into the shadows once more.

There were dead bandits up ahead and she hadn't killed them.
Yup, that pretty much clinched it: some other, unknown force had risen up and slaughtered the lowlife thugs that had made their home here for a few weeks. Considering this was a nordic barrow, examining the wounds on the dead, the occasional ancient axe, and of course that one mummified husk sprawled on the floor without its head, Dar'Yoon made an educated guess of the draugr having been responsible.
None were visible, though. There should have been more of them out there, for there were no living bandits around, yet she could not see any. A worrying thought entered her head: what if they had hid back to their caskets, just watching her...? The thought was a scary and arousing one at the same time.
She bit her lower lip as her breath quickened, as she imagined their leering eyes from behind stone lids in their coffins, checking out her naked body through a hole in a lid, their desiccated tongues running through their teeth as their hands fumbled between their legs for... did they even have dicks anymore? She couldn't tell.
And on a second thought, a khajiit probably was not the best catch for some ancient nords anyway - but hey, they had been dead and without any ass for millennia. Beggars couldn't be choosers.
She snuck across the shadows nonetheless, in as seductive way as she could, presenting her assets for the invisible appreciators. She was getting wet again, and resisted the urge to begin touching herself right there: she would have the time for that once the assailants had actually revealed themselves - or even better, she could find and ambush them - and the battle was over.
She took another step along the corridor, about to descend the stairs downward, when she heard the very disturbing sound of shifting stone, feeling the floor give away under her foot. Oh Rajhin she'd gotten distracte-
Her feline reflexes, tempered by years of adventuring and dungeon crawling, were the only thing to save her life. Dar'Yoon quickly leapt backwards and just barely avoided the spiked steel grate as it slammed past, threatening to impale her and turn the whole thing much less appealing to pretty much everybody - except maybe for a few people, who were too fucked up even for her to deal with.
There was just a second during which her heartbeat receded and adrenaline passed away from her body, just a brief second enough to feel the stabbing pain and realize that she had been hurt after all: her left foot was bleeding heavily, a spike having torn into the ankle and making the limb nearly useless. But there would be no time for restoration magicks, for the moment only lasted a second, and then her heart was quickened once again as she heard the voices from all around her, coffin lids crashing against the floor and followed by rattled, undead groans...
Looks like she woke up someone. That wasn't good.
She drew her daggers, one in each hand, and limped to the center of the room, as far away from the sounds as she could get. Little gleaming lights appeared all around in the darkness, surrounding her with eyes, soon followed by black, shambling silhouettes, lurching forward with surprising speed and balance for creatures that had spent thousands of years in little spaces with no room to stretch (she figured the bandits had given them the chance to flex a bit).
Nine pairs of eyes, Dar'Yoon counted. They were armed with ancient swords, axes, and maces, and though their facial expressions had long since decayed into nothingness, the young wounded khajiit in the middle of them could swear that their eyes were darting all over her body.
The realization made her blush. She had to stop herself from instinctively covering herself from their burning eyes, because that would distract her and simultaneously give them less to stare at and more to hack apart.
Instead, she took a combat stance, her tail bristled and swishing behind her... the first draugr to charge her took simultaneous cuts on chest and face, falling down. She spinned around to slash another one, parried an axe coming at her while simultaneously taking advantage of an opening and thrusting her other dagger to a draugr to her right.
Unfortunately, another parry forced her to put pressure on her left foot - it was either that or getting her skull cracked - sending a jolt of pain all across her body and ending up with a serious imbalance. She stumbled back, tripped and fell, and was immediately grapped by rough, dried, cold hands. Then another pair, and another... a mace to her right hand stung and gave her a bruise, and more importantly ended up disarming her and leaving her with one dagger. The draugr were now clearly using nonlethal methods to subdue her, which puzzled her: why wouldn't they kill- ohh wait, yeah.
It looked like the final advantage of Dar'Yoon's nakedness would come up once more. This was a good thing, of course, could very well save her life... but she figured this wouldn't be quite as pleasant as it had been with the argonians.
She wouldn't go down without a fight, though: she kicked one of them away from her with her good foot, slammed two more against the wall behind them with a shout that echoed across the corridors, while plunging her remaining dagger behind her and hitting something in the stomach - but the weapon was stuck and she was unable to retrieve it before a surprisingly strong dead hand grabbed the arm and forced it behind her.
She had managed to destroy six, leaving three to have their way with her. Her back was pressed against the one holding her from behind, feeling its cold flesh and armor against her naked skin, the one hand that didn't hold her arm roughly caressing her back and rubbing her rear, flushing her crotch with warmth and wetness. Her breath accelerated and brought blood at her face as she saw another draugr staring her into her eyes, its hand fondling her rack, squeezing her breast and bringing out an involuntary moan from the khajiit. Its tongue, she found out as it came down on her cheek and neck, was dry and extremely uncomfortable.
Its other hand disappeared from sight and went further down, caressing her inner thigh before finding something far more interesting to focus on. Dar'Yoon grit her teeth and closed her eyes, tears of shame welling behind them, as she felt two fingers assault her her sex, a thumb teasing the little pearl. It was pretty much the coldest and harshest thing that had ever been inside her, and yet it was swiftly bringing her to peaks of arousal: it was clear this guy had scored a good amount of times while it was still alive, because it knew well what it was doing.
As his tongue reached lower to lick her nipple, his teeth nibbling on occasion and making her shiver, her sole free hand reached lower to explore her assailant and find out if they had something left to fuck her with - which she really hoped was the case.
She wasn't disappointed.
Well, actually she kind of was, because it was an atrophied, mummified and pathetic thing, kind of like a dried sausage. But she was determined to get something out of this encounter, and her quick, skilled fingers got to work. She felt it twitch on her palm like a live pepperoni stick, but even as the khajiit winced in disgust, the draugr atop her let out a chilly groan of approval. Her right hand was freed, its holder too busy to rub her ass with both hands, and she took advantage of this too by pushing it against the top one's head, urging it to keep working on her breast.
She was vaguely aware that the hands on her rump were lifting her higher up, in a standing position, sandwitched between two undead nords. Her upper hand pressed against a rough, thin shoulder, the other one moving away from the mummy-dick to seek more purchase from lower back. The hand from her boob disappeared and moved lower, used by its owner to take hold of her thigh to lift her in front of it and pull her against him, pressing her breasts on its chest, its cold breath against the side of her neck, and the withered weenie stuck between their bodies.
She gasped as the two fingers finally pulled away from inside her and were used to spread her lips apart instead, the pelvis pulling back just a little bit and bringing the perished penis between them, ready for penetration. She tensed herself and braced for impact, as she was sure this would not be one of her most pleasurable encounters - then suddenly felt her heart leap to her throat in shock, as she felt something else pressing against her tailhole.
Well, there was someone in front of her, and another one behind her, she mused in the single second she was given between: in retrospect it was kind of inevitable.
Dar'Yoon moaned in pleasure and humiliation as first of the shriveled shafts pierced her folds and roughly invaded her, the hand that had been used to hold open her doors now grabbing her other thigh for support. It felt like a dead stick had been stuck to her: she needed all the lubrication her body could afford to give in order to make it an even halfway pleasant experience.
She hadn't been given enough time to recover before the other wilted wood violently thrusted into her dry anal passage, causing her to cry out in pain. It took mere seconds to bottom in her, pleasure and tenderness sacrificed for the sake of speed: the feeling was intense enough that she had not even noticed the first one leave her body at the same time, not until it surged right back in.
Even as it did so, the second desiccated dick pulled out of her ass, and she grit her teeth because now she knew what was coming. But no preparation would have been enough for the agony of it being pushed right back in, its owner's hands roughly grasping her breasts and tweaking her nipples in the meantime.
As soon as one parched prick left her body, the other came back to savage her. And when that one pulled back, the first returned. They worked on her like a well-oiled dwemer piston, in a perfect unison and timing - unlike their hands and mouths, which were much more uneven, groping and licking and biting her body pretty much at random. The poor khajiit was not given any time to get used to the feeling, the intense pleasure backed up by equally harsh and unending pain, as both of her holes were fucked raw.
She bit her lower lip in order to not moan out loud again, not to bring further satisfaction to her attackers, but failed: she could not understand their ancient language, of course, but the voices sounded amused and mocking. Gradually they increased pace, further intensifying everything she was feeling, like feeling the heat of a warm bath and a scorching fire at once.
Both screamed out at once, their unearthly howl making her shiver and briefly drowning the heat under intense grave chill. That, and the twitching inside her, were the only signs she was given that they had climaxed at all: there was no body language or temperature to check, of course, and equally logically, nothing hot and wet being poured inside her, nothing filling her needy body.
Their bodies pulled back from her, their spent, embalmed erections leaving her with one last wince of discomfort. She now lay limp in their hands, too weak to do anything at all: they simply threw her down painfully to the cold ground, discarding her like trash. The khajiit was spent, barely conscious, weeping silently, and every fiber of her hurting like oblivion.
Worst of all, she had failed to come herself. No satisfaction had been given her.
There would be no rest for the wicked, however. She yowled silently as a yet another hand grabbed her hair and pulled her up on her knees, suddenly realizing that there had been three draugr left, not two.
Finding herself facing a sere, salted draugr member was perhaps nowhere near as painful prospect as getting one shoved up her ass, but no less disgusting or humiliating, yet this was precisely what was awaiting Dar'Yoon. She was not in the shape to argue, not to mention still disarmed, so a single additional tug of her hair was enough incentive to get her to work.
The undead creature crooned as her lips and tongue surrounded its cold cock, and she trembled: the taste was absolutely disgusting. She pulled back, tiredly licking and suckling the shaft, kissing the tip, trying and failing to lubricate it for her, feeling it twitch and its owner shudder, shuddering herself in disgust. One of her hands took a hold of the ancient manhood, while the other dipped down to her opening, trying to get some pleasure out of this herself.
Suddenly, the hips thrusted forward, and she found herself mouth full with mummy-meat, hitting her throat and making her gag. Both his hands took a grasp of her head, the rod pulling out of her, only to thrust right back in again. It soon became utterly impossible for her to work with him, and so she gave up and merely tried to keep herself from throwing up on him.
Thankfully, it did not take that long for him to release. Less thankfully, it turned out they did in fact come something, not just air - namely, dust. She took a mouthful of dried-up seed, forcing her to pull back and cough heavily, simultaneously feeling herself getting more on her face and eyes. Her discomfort made all three draugr laugh.
It shoved her to the ground almost immediately afterwards, painfully scraping her bloodied ankle against the stone floor, and placed itself atop her, leering at her. She felt its spent manhood harden again as it prodded against her folds, ready to invade her once more. Tired as she was, Dar'Yoon was hoping this one would be enough to drive her across the peak.
Her hand pressed against its back for support and to urge it to move in, which it did. She gasped as once more her lips were parted and her passage filled with dry-meat. She moaned more freely this time, not caring about her dignity anymore, and pushed her hips up to meet his, her other hand grasping the ground next to her and-
She gasped, not entirely out of pleasure, but also of surprise and relief, as her fingers wrapped around the hilt of her dagger.
None of them seemed to have noticed her newfound edge, nor the strange and sudden invigoration of her body. The khajiit knew she was going to get out of this now, which drove her forward: she began to growl and snarl, the claws of her left hand burying into the back of her undead lover, pleading it to fuck her harder and faster - which it was all too happy to oblige.
This time, having been driven so close to the edge, Dar'Yoon was the first to come. She screamed happily as she felt the pleasure and respite of the long-expected orgasm surge through her body, flooding their groins with her juices as the contraptions of her sex grabbed the draugr and locked him within her. Her entire body tensed and suddenly released, making her go limp...
...But only very briefly, before she forced new life into her and harnessed the climactic energy into battle-lust, lifting her other hand and driving the dagger into the back of the draugr's neck in a single fluid motion, right in the middle of its own pleasure peak.
The other two spent the first couple seconds just looking at her in surprise: they had clearly been left unsure of what they just witnessed, and their tired brains struggled to make the head and tail of it. It gave their victim enough time to push the now dead undead off her and leap at them, impaling one's throat. The other fumbled for its weapon, but her thu'um was faster and burned it to crisp with a single powerful dragon breath, creating some new light and warmth into the dungeon.
Once they had all fallen, the khajiit was not far behind.
She felt half-dead in her exhaustion, her injuries still burning, but she could not rest yet: she needed more. Still in the aftershock of her orgasm from only three seconds ago, her womanhood clenching against thin air and pushing more fluid out of her, the excitement of danger and murder had brought her right back to the top.
Without further ado, she rammed the hilt of her dagger to her snatch.
It was only marginally better than the pathetic dried-up meat-stick that had ravished her mere moments before, but in her state of being, she could not afford to get choosy. The self-fucking was one born out of rage as much as arousal, driving the cold blade-hilt into her over and over again with both hands, growling and snarling as she was brought closer to the peak once more.
She no longer had it in her to yell out: she merely looked up and gasped hard as she came one last time, soaking her blade with her pleasure and her scent. She was tired, yet it still crashed over her like a tidal wave, forced the little rational thought she had left out of her and causing her to black out briefly.
She was not sure how long she had slept when she woke up. Her mace-struck shoulder was still aching, her left foot had gone numb, her lower bits sore from the violation they had endured, and in general she felt pretty messed-up everywhere.
She cast the healing spell on her foot, and her shoulder, then got up on wobbling legs. She did not think she could walk straight for a while, especially with her tailho-
...Suddenly with a horrible premonition, Dar'Yoon reached behind her to feel herself.
Oh Alkosh.
Eugh, the dick got torn away and stuck into her ass! Gross gross gross gross gross.

Dar'Yoon felt significantly better once she had gotten the stick off her bum and found the treasure this barrow was protecting. This wasn't anywhere near the first time her nudism had gotten herself into deep trouble, after all - and out of it. After all, it wouldn't be very dangerous or exciting if she always got away with it all unscathed, would it?
The chest was full of gold, some jewelry (probably magical), and a decent armor she figured she could fetch a good price from. There was also one of those strange walls, written in ancient languages out of which she could only ever understand a single word. But that one word always held such power in it.
Finally, there was a backdoor away from the barrow: she would have bypassed so much trouble (and fun) if she had found it earlier, but it didn't really bother her that badly.
What did bother her, though, was the sudden chill of the snow storm that struck her straight-on as soon as she opened the door. She had forgotten her clothes upstairs.
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Dar'Yoon's Very Naked Adventures