Shame: The Breaking of the Bone-Caller

Valdis the Bone-Caller was a voluptuous vision of necromantic Nordic defiance. Her hair was long and as dark as a raven’s wing; black hair cascaded down her back in thick, untamed waves, shifting like liquid shadow with every movement. Her high cheekbones, a strong jaw, and full, pouty lips gave her an air of aristocratic cruelty, but her light gray eyes burned with the coldly calculating fury of a woman who had stared into the endless abyss of baneful rituals and laughed.

Though skilled in both the arts of necromantic magic and stealth, she had a body that commanded attention. A masterpiece of unapologetic femininity. Her size DDD breasts were monuments of prime sexuality and fertility, pendulous and gravity-defying, swaying with every step like twin orbs of pale, yielding softness. Even when she stood still, they hung low, the nipples pointing downward in a way that made men’s mouths go dry.

When she moved without binding them, they didn’t just bounce, they swayed, slow and hypnotic, the underboob forming a deep, shadowed crease where sweat would gather in the heat of battle, much to her dismay. She often found her breasts to be somewhat of a nuisance, but they definitely had their uses…

Ever crafty, Valdis was adept at weaponizing her sex appeal. When she wanted to distract or gather information or favorable haggling from men, she would flaunt them tactically to get whatever she wanted, and then some. But when she was all business, she would bind them with tight fabric as to attract less attention.

Her occult abilities and ravishing beauty aside, it had not turned out to be a good day for Valdis the Bone-Caller.

According to the incurably bigoted and ever-arrogant Valdis, the Khajiit (who she often derided as “those filthy cats”) always had the best alchemical reagents smuggled in from Elsweyr. Little would Valdis know the heavy price she would pay for them, all for letting her prejudiced ego blind her to the hidden danger she was in.

Along her path, a Khajiit caravan, likely skooma runners, had been in the process of being ambushed by a band of Nords from Windhelm. What had started as a routine necromantic supply run to Riften’s Black-Briar Meadery had somehow devolved into a bloodbath. Arrows flew. Steel clashed. Valdis the necromancer excelled at stealth and observed the events safely from afar. Ever the opportunist, she was unable to resist looting a few fallen Khajiit for their moon-sugar stash before the real trouble started… And indeed, start the real trouble did.

A Khajiit warband, their fur bristling with stolen Imperial armor, swarmed her location suddenly, catching the usually impeccably astute necro maiden off guard while she was distracted by her immense choices in loot. Valdis had been forced to raise a skeletal rearguard, her undead thralls shambling into the fray with rusted axes. She dropped three Khajiit with her poison bone arrows while they were distracted by her minions, before realizing the number against her was insurmountable, particularly with how eager they were to avenge both their brethren and livelihoods.

The last thing she saw before her world went white was a Khajiit’s tail lashing as he hurled a flash powder pouch at her feet. When Valdis came to, her skull was throbbing. The stench of skooma and unwashed fur filled her nostrils. She blinked open her eyes to find herself in a dimly lit cellar, walls lined with stolen Nord tapestries. In her nationalist mind, this was an affront, representing her people’s history defiled by the hands of a foreign adversary.

Speaking of “hands,” her wrists were bound behind her back with rough hemp rope, her ankles lashed together with strips of cured horker hide. She was forced into a submissive kneeling position on cold stone, her bare knees already bruised. Three Khajiit sat on overturned crates, watching her. Their fur ranged from tawny gold to deep sable, their slit-pupiled eyes gleaming with amusement.

They wore little more than ragged loincloths and stolen jewelry, their tails flicking lazily behind them. The Dagi-raht Khajiit at the front bore a scarred muzzle. He grinned at her newfound consciousness, revealing wickedly sharp canines. “Look who’s finally awake,” he purred in broken Tamrielic. “The great Nord necromancer. The dreaded ‘Bone-Caller’.” He spat the title like a curse. “We were starting to think you’d sleep through the fun.” Valdis bared her teeth. She was a proud daughter of Skyrim, her dark hair braided in the traditional warrior’s style, her breasts straining against the torn remains of her necromancer’s robes. The fabric was little more than rags now, barely covering the ample chest she was now powerless to hide.

Her pale skin was now smeared with dirt and dried blood. Her boots, staff, and amulet of the Pale Lord were gone. Stolen, just like the rest of her dignity was soon to be. “You filthy cats!” She snarled. “Do you have any idea who I am?! I’ve raised armies of the dead. I’ve bargained with Namira herself. When my kin find out what you’ve done-” The Dagi-raht backhanded her hard. The force of the blow swung her head to an awkward angle and sent her sprawling, her cheek stinging. “Your kin?” He laughed, a deep, rumbling sound. “Your kin hate you, n’wah! You’re a necromancer. A corpse-fucker. The only reason they haven’t burned you at the stake yet is because they’re too busy burning US!”

Valdis defiantly spat blood onto the floor in the direction of her cat captors. “Then kill me and be done with it!” The Khajiit exchanged knowing glances. The smallest, a Suthay-raht with a missing ear, chittered in Ta’agra before translating for her. “Oh, we’re not going to kill you… Not yet.” He reached out, running a clawed finger along her bare collarbone. “You will earn your death. In fact, you will beg us for it.” The cellar door creaked open. In strode the Khajiit who had captured her: a Cathay-raht with a grisly facial scar and fur matted with old blood. He wore nothing but a pair of undone stolen Nord bracers. To Valdis’s horror, his girthy cock already half-erect, the thick, furred shaft twitching as he approached. Valdis’s stomach twisted as her blood ran cold. “You dare-”

“Shut it!” He growled at her, the infrasound caused by his growl shook her soul to the core as he grabbed her by the hair and yanked her head back. “You shot me with your bone arrows. Now you’re going to be penetrated in kind.” He pressed the tip of his cock against her lips. “Open!” Valdis clamped her mouth shut. The Cathay-raht sighed in frustration, then drove his knee into her ribs. She gasped in pain, and he took the opportunity to shove his length past her teeth as he sighed in pleasure. The taste of musk, sweat and fur flooded her mouth as he forced himself deeper, said fur brushing against her cheeks. She gagged, her throat convulsing around the thick intrusion.

To dissuade her from biting down in retaliation, the Dagi-raht captor quickly moved into position to visibly aim a loaded cursed crossbow at her head at close range. To make matters worse, Valdis strongly sensed a strong suppressive energy coming from that particular captor, as though he was vampirizing her already low mana. He was trained in the dark arts, clearly. She could summon nothing to save herself… except submit. “That’s it…” The scarred Cathay-raht leader murmured, gripping her then-braided hair like a leash. “Take it like the accursed bitch you truly are.”

Behind her, the Suthay-raht chuckled derisively. “Look at her now! The great Nord Valdis, choking on Khajiit cock!” He reached down, tearing what remained of her necromantic robes away, leaving her exquisitely exposed. Her heavy breasts swayed as the larger Cathay-raht fucked her mouth, her nipples hardening involuntarily in the frigid, stale cellar air. Valdis’s mind raced; it spun into shock and the beginnings of traumatic dissociation. ‘This isn’t happening. This can’t be happening.’ She kept thinking this to herself in utter disbelief at what she was being reduced to, however the wet, slapping sounds of flesh on flesh and the way the bulky Khajiit’s balls slapped against her chin with every thrust kept bringing her back to her dismal reality. This was real. She was being used, and this was only the bitter beginning. The Cathay-raht pulled out with a wet pop, his cock glistening with her saliva.

“Not bad for a n’wah.” He wiped the throbbing tip of his member across her lips as degradation, smearing her with pre-cum. “But… I think your ass is tighter.” Valdis’s blood ran cold yet again, but before she could process, she was forced roughly onto her hands and knees, her bound wrists straining against the rope binding her. The Suthay-raht knelt in front of her, his cock jutting obscenely from his fur, while the Cathay-raht positioned himself behind her. His claws dug into her hips as he pressed the head of his cock against her tight, virgin asshole. “No-!!!” Valdis snarled in vain protest, but the Suthay-raht grabbed her chin, forcing her to look at him. “You’re going to take it,” he hissed. “And you’re going to like it and thank us for it later with your subservience.”

The Cathay-raht behind her didn’t wait, and there was no preparing her. With a single, brutal thrust, he buried himself inside her virgin anus. Valdis screamed, her body betraying her as her ass stretched around the thick, furred shaft. Pain lanced through her, white-hot and searing, but beneath that pain… beneath it was something else, entirely. Something as deeply wrong as the furred member now pulsating and pumping deep inside her… Something so primally wrong to her, that it made her stomach clench with unwanted heat as she tried to supress the reality she could not admit into her subconcious: She was starting to feel pleasure.

“Fuck, she is TIGHT!” the Cathay-raht grunted in a mix of dominance and twisted celebration at her violation, his claws raking down her back to further torment her. “Just like a virgin maiden!” Valdis gritted her teeth, her vision blurring with stinging hot tears. ‘This isn’t me! This isn’t happening!’ But the Khajiit’s cock was undeniably real: the way it filled her, the way it hurt SO good... The Suthay-raht in front of her smirked at her pitiful confused expression before shoving his own cock into her mouth, silencing her pointless protests.

Now, Valdis was being spitroasted like caught game over campfire. The Cathay-raht’s hips slapped hard against her ass, his fur tickling her thighs as he railed her loudly. Meanwhile, the Suthay-raht’s cock choked her, his musky scent filling her nose. Valdis’s breasts swayed with every thrust, her nipples brushing against the cold stone floor. She could feel the Khajiit’s cocks rubbing against each other through the thin wall of her body, could feel the way they stretched and used her far beyond her feminine vessel was meant to take.

The Suthay-raht came first. With a guttural growl, he flooded her throat with thick, salty cum. Valdis gagged, but he held her head in place, forcing her to swallow every drop. When he finally pulled out, cum dripped from her chin, her lips swollen and bruised. But the Cathay-raht still eagerly violating her wasn’t done. He flipped her onto her back, her bound wrists now trapped beneath her. Her heavy breasts spilled to the sides as he loomed over her, his cock still buried in her ass. He grabbed her thighs, spreading her legs wide, and then, with a primal grunt that made her quiver… He came inside her. Valdis’s back arched as she felt the hot rush of his seed filling her, her ass clenching around him at the climactic violation, involuntarily milking him dry.

The sensation was so wrong, so disgusting - yet, her traitorous body still shuddered in a relentless, earth-demolishing orgasm, her pussy clenching around nothing as that twisted, unwanted pleasure coiled in her gut and she embarrassingly squirted over her captor, losing complete control. Her feline captors were momentarily surprised, before laughing at her and cheering in mock celebration at her total degradation and humiliation. The Cathay-raht pulled out with a wet ‘schlick,’ sound, her asshole gaping obscenely, cum dripping from the stretched ring of abused muscle. He smirked, then spat into his palm, rubbing the saliva over his still-hard cock. “Round two, everyone!”

...

By the time the warband was done with her, Valdis was a broken thing in a sticky heap of Khajiit cum. They had taken turns with her. Mouth, ass, pussy… Until her body was a map of bruises and bite marks. The Dagi-raht finally had his turn and forced her to ride him while the others watched, her heavy breasts bouncing with every thrust, her thighs slick with his cum. The Suthay-raht had made her kneel, her bound wrists straining as she took his cock down her throat, her nose pressed against his furred groin. The Cathay-raht had bent her over a crate, her ass high in the air and slapped red as he fucked her from behind cat-style, his claws leaving red welts and bleeding scratches across her back.

And then, as a sick experiment, they had brought in the Alfiq.

The smallest of the Khajiit breeds, the Alfiq were barely larger than house cats, their fur soft and silky. They were prized as pets among the wealthy, but among the warband, they were sometimes used for… other purposes, often involving twisted interrogation when no one else could be bothered. Valdis had screamed as the first Alfiq climbed onto her chest, its tiny paws kneading her breasts as it rubbed its furred body against her face. Its cock, proportionally massive for its size, had twitched against her lips, and when she refused to open her mouth, the Dagi-raht had pinched her nose shut, forcing her to gasp for air and subsequently take all the Alfiq’s cock deep into her throat at the explicit threat of a white-hot poker instead should she resist.

Valdis helplessly choked on it, her eyes watering as the tiny Khajiit fucked her face, its balls slapping against her chin. The others had laughed, their voices a chorus of mockery as they watched her be degraded for both pleasure and amusement. When the Alfiq came, it was in her mouth, its cum thick and cloying, like honey mixed with stale skooma.

Valdis gagged violently, but the Dagi-raht from before held her head still, forcing her to swallow every drop. Finally, the warband’s chief leader, a Pahmar-raht with a mane of dark fur, had watched the entire ordeal from a dark secluded corner with cold, calculating eyes as he pleasured himself... He liked to watch.

When the others were finally sated, he stepped forward, his cock hard, his claws sharp. “You’ve been a good little n’wah,” he purred with unbridled desire, running a clawed hand through her hair that cut her scalp. (At this point, Valdis was so dissociated from the abuse and the shock that she barely felt the careless cut.)

“But we’re not done with you yet.” Valdis whimpered, her body trembling. She was exhausted, her throat raw, her ass and pussy aching. Her anus was definitely torn and bleeding.

However, the Pahmar-raht didn’t care. Blood was just more lubrication to them.

So, he grabbed her by the hair, dragging her to her feet, and then…

He collared her like livestock as the coup de grâce. Said collar was made of a devious demonic leather infused with properties of black magick. It was tight around her throat, the metal buckle digging into her skin.

A chain dangled from it, and when the Pahmar-raht gave it a sharp tug, Valdis gasped, her body obeying the unspoken command as though possessed, without even the possibility of resistance. “From now on,” the Pahmar-raht said, his voice a low growl, “you’re our pet. Our slave. And if you ever forget it…” He trailed off, his claws tracing a line down her chest, stopping just above her nipple. “Well. Let’s just say… you’ll remember.”

Valdis’s breath hitched. She was broken. Humiliated, and now thoroughly owned. And the worst part?

Somewhere deep inside, beneath the shame, fear and pain, a tiny, traitorous part of her loved it.