Disclaimer: This story contains content that should not be read by people underneath the age of 21. It is 100% fiction and has no bearing on reality whatsoever. 100% fiction means real life rape is WRONG. The author does not condone illegal and immoral actions described. If you feel rape in the real world is a good thing, bend over in a prison and whistle dixie. While I'm disclaiming, racism, homophobia and other bigotry of any kind are also really fucking stupid. I don't own The Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion, or any characters and make no profit from this story. Please read the story codes above to ensure that you are not going to be offended by, or otherwise dislike, the content. This was written for the prompt 'Jackpot'
Description: Antoinetta seeks to honor the Night-Mother with Moz's murder, but the Orc Champion has a different idea.
Note: This chapter is set about a month after the last chapter.
Content Codes: F-Herm, viol, trans.
Elder Scrolls 4 - Oblivion: Ending The Fan Part 7 - On Fyr In Cheydinhal
by JD ([email protected])
The assassin Antoinetta entered her prey's bedroom close to midnight. The Dark Brotherhood's newest recruit believed it fine training to murder Cyrodiil's famed champion Moz gra-Bura in bed; there might even be someone to pay for the death later. The killing would be the biggest news in Cheydinhal since Moz closed the Oblivion gate beyond the city walls. Sneaking like an expert thief, with far more harmful intent, she smiled to see the sleeper outlined beneath blankets. The rumours, as rumours often did, had made the champion out to be far larger.
'Jackpot!' she inevitably thought.
Seen with the benefit of a Night-Eye potion, the luxurious room spoke of the personal wealth the champion had amassed during the campaign against the Daedric prince Mehrunes Dagon and his minions. She was amused that this Orc slept so quietly; Antoinetta's comrade gro-Bolmog was crassly loud, and couldn't even spell subtle.
She slid her blackened blade from its soft sheath and silently thanked the Night-Mother for the murder she was about to commit. Her prayer was inaterrupted when a fist like a Daedric club struck her face. The blow knocked the Breton quite off her feet. Given her high pain threshold, she was more shocked by the unexpected source of the blow than the impact. She shook dirty blonde hair from her face and looked up through the purple Night-Eye glow, to see the battle scarred body of an Orc. One muscular leg blurred, and she glimpsed chewed toenails before pain tinged darkness
She wouldn't have expected to awaken; certainly not to find her newly acquired bruises treated. Her extra blades were gone, her garrotes, even her potions. She sat up, recognizing the lower floor of the house newly lit by a dozen lamps. Moz sat nearby, still undressed, and scraping dirt from her fearsome fingernails with the Breton's dagger.
"I wasn't going to kill you! It was just practice!" the Breton squeaked. Quickly recognizing the futility of such blatant untruths, Antoinetta quietly asked, "So... why am I still alive?"
"I was on my bedroll. That bed's too soft. Like Fanroth's cock. Too much fucking brandy! Even a potion wouldn't rouse him!" Moz shook her head in disgust, "I dumped him in bed and lay down not long before you came prancing through the door."
It was suddenly obvious to Antoinetta why the champion hadn't killed her. She smiled wantonly, and started to slip off her armor. She was in darkness for a moment as she pulled the magic woven fabric over her head. Nude to the waist she noted the Orc had discarded the dagger beneath her chair and reached for a small potion bottle. She'd obviously decided the rest of her patently obvious pitch to the Breton was unnecessary with the young woman eager to please.
"Drink this. It's not poison."
"I didn't think it was, silly! This is going to be fun!"
Antoinetta liked to act the playful young woman; the last thing many had seen even before she joined the Dark Brotherhood was her cheerful smile. She knocked back the potion carelessly, perfectly convinced it wasn't poison. Everybody knew that if Moz gra-Bura wanted something dead, she would hit it with an axe. There were some who thought she might make an excellent Dark Brotherhood murderer. The taste was unexpectedly strong; she almost spat out the mixture, but forced it down.
"So what does... Oh!"
Orc and Breton together looked as the soft Shrouded Armour pants tented out at the assassin's crotch like an Ashlander's yurt. Antoinetta could feel the alien sensations of the new flesh that her clitoris had become. Moz yanked the assassin's light armor pants down, and revealed the full effects of the Fyr Water. Prophetically, Antoinetta's mother had once claimed her wayward child was "born to be hung," as the old folk clich‚ had it.
She had a few urgent questions for Moz, but they faded to moans as thick green fingers claimed her shaft and stroked. She raised her soft lips, kissing with genuine passion the weathered lips and yellowing tusks of the Orc. She'd known a lot of men with less powerful bodies than the champion's, and ran her murderous fingers appreciatively across the tight thigh muscles before probing into Moz's already moist black bush.
They held position for a time, kissing with rough passion while pleasurably stimulating each other with hands more normally used to hurt enemies, victims, or the depressingly suicidal highwaymen. The light scarring that covered Moz's dark green skin frictionally generated unique sensations against Antoinetta's perky nipples. A reddish flush spread across the Breton's pale skin, and she shivered in the Orc's arms as she was lowered down to a fine thick rug.
She judged her dagger was within reach beneath the chair. She licked her fingers, enjoying the strongly flavored Orc musk, and then reached for the champion's breasts even as Moz positioned herself to ride the Breton girl's cock. Antoinetta arched off the floor as Moz swallowed her to the dirty blonde bush.
"You got to stab me after all!"
She could only moan in reply. Moz pushed her down, and sought a rhythm on her cock. The floorboards creaked beneath the rug as Moz rode Antoinetta hard. She realized the Orc enjoyed the danger that came from fucking someone who'd tried to kill her. She grit her teeth, knowing she had to maintain control until Moz came, and then...
Quicker than Antoinetta had thought possible, the Orc visibly stiffened. The effect on Antoinetta's new cock was exquisite. She squealed like a pig as her organ erupted volcanically within Moz's gripping channel, though her orgasm faded even as the Orc still grunted with pleasure. Seizing her moment, she snared her dagger and slashed upwards. Moz caught her wrist easily, climatic but never careless.
Darkness bourn on green knuckles descended.
When she next awoke it was in the dungeon of far Battlehorn Castle. Antoinetta looked around fearfully at the unfamiliar surroundings, and awaited her fate.
End of Part 7
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