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Weeping in Whiterun

For Bloodgod245

By Draconicon

Night in Whiterun brought a number of changes to the city. First and foremost, the guard patrols doubled, and they were Blazing Scales's most difficult obstacle.

He lingered in the shadow of Warmaiden's, looking down the street towards the ramshackle house that was barely a few dozen feet down the road. He'd found out that Ahkasi had taken residence there over a year ago, buying it off of the last poor sap that had tried living here. Some people said that she had killed the dark elf that owned it before. He'd believe it. She had the skills for it.

Not the same as my skills, though. It wasn't bragging. It was fact. He'd measured himself against her a dozen times before she'd sold him off again, and he knew her measure. A hard-hitting cat, with sharp claws that could dig inches into the flesh, or scales, and with a skill for bludgeoning things into submission, Ahkasi was not a warrior to be underestimated. Even now, he figured she had a one in four chance of beating him.

It was better odds than he'd had as a child.

As the latest patrol slipped by, he slipped down the streets and over to the house. There was a balcony on the second floor, and just enough shrubbery to climb up to reach it. He dug his claws into the roots and wood, dragging himself up the side of the house until he could pull himself onto the railing. He rested there, waiting. Without any sound to greet him, he walked to the door and pushed it open.

The moonlight lit his way, guiding him through the guest room and into the alcove above the stairs. A fire threw its light all over the place, sending shadows dancing around, and illuminating his target.

She was drunk, as he knew she would be. The big-titted cat didn't do anything in moderation, and he doubted she even knew the meaning of the word. She drank til she was sick. She fought until she dropped. She beat people until they couldn't move...sometimes until they couldn't breathe. Sometimes both.

His claws clenched, scraping against his palms, and she froze in her drunken revelry. Her ears twitched as she turned, looking around, and Blazing Scales ducked further into the shadows. He had to remember, she was better at this than the slave trader. She knew she had enemies -

Suddenly, she whipped around, throwing the bottle in her hand up the stairs. It clattered and smashed against the wall, beer falling over him in a waterfall, and then she was upon him.

"FUCKER! This one will make you pay!"

Claws rent the armor on his arm, cutting through leather and almost reaching his scales before he rolled away. She was after him, her claws slashing and her fists beating at him like he was a ball of yarn, forcing him away from the staircase and further along the upper floor. She was so fast that he didn't even have a chance to get up, let alone try and strike a blow of his own.

He ducked past a doorway, barely avoiding her latest strike, and realized he was in her bedroom. A mace slid down the wall from its holding place, and he grabbed it, swinging it around desperately. He got lucky; it crashed right into Ahkasi's shins, and sent her flying, yowling all the while.

Gasping for breath, the Argonian pulled himself to his feet, pulling fire to his fists. The magic came quickly, but almost not quickly enough. Ahkasi was on her feet and rushing him, forcing him to duck and roll again -

And this time, she didn't follow. He paused, staring as he realized that her claws were stuck in the wall. She wrenched herself back and forth, but there was no pulling free. She'd hit the door frame too hard, and now, she was pinned.

"This one will kill you! She swears it, she will cut you apart for sneaking into her house!"

"I don't think so."

He shook his head, reaching down for the mace he'd used a moment ago. Swinging it back and forth a couple of times, he walked up behind her, tapping the metal against the back of her legs. All it would take would be one swing, one swing from the right angle, and he'd ruin her legs for life. Or he could smash her tail, break it until it could never heal right, take away her balance and grace. Or he could smash her head in, kill her once and for all. She'd done so many things to him that all of them felt justified...

But there was one thing that she'd never done to him, one torture that he could give her that she'd never given him.

With the fire still glowing over his palms, he reached around her, his chest against her back. He grabbed her by the wrists, knowing it singed her fur at the very least, and likely burnt a bit of it away.

"You struggle, I burn your arms off."

"Hssss..."

"Understand?"

"...Understand."

With a hard tug, he wrenched her claws out of the wood. Giving her as little a chance to fight as he could, he dragged her over to the bed, and threw her down in it. If she still acted the same as back then...

She never changed, he thought as he pulled the chains out from under her bed. Thick iron, no more and no less than prison issue, always there to hold down the people she owned. For punishment, for pleasure, whatever struck her. He'd never been one to be given pleasure. Only pain. Now, it was her turn.

"Hold still."

"Who are you?"

"Someone who wants to kill you, but won't. Hold still."

She did, regrettably. A part of him still wanted to kill her, still wanted to blow her up or burn her to ash or just cut her to little pieces for all the beatings that she had given him as a child-slave. This 'punishment' would only barely cover all that, but he wanted an excuse to do more. Just one...one she wouldn't give him.

He pulled the chains up, pinning her to her bed. Her arms went over the headboard, her legs pulled back and tied far apart. He grabbed a piece of firewood, put it under her stomach to force her to stay upright, keeping her ass in the air. She squirmed all the while, but didn't fight him. He imagined that she was a little too scared, just enough reality pushing through the drunkenness to make her situation apparent.

Taking out his dagger, he cut a hole in her pants, ripping through the leather trousers to expose her underwear before cutting a hole there, as well. Right between her legs, enough to expose her furry cunt. It was dry as her desert homeland, but he didn't care. He forced a finger inside, and she hissed and screamed.

"Out! Take it out!"

"Since when do you listen to anything someone begs for?"

"Out! Out!"

"No. This isn't the last thing going into you."

"Why?!"

She wasn't talking so much. She must have been more afraid than he thought; Ahkasi was never at a loss for words except when she was angry or scared.

"Because it was the one thing you didn't do to me. And you need to hurt more than I did."

"You?! Who...YOU?!"

"A slave..."

"No...no! No! Killed you! Killed you dead! Beat your head in, drowned you, cut off -"

"It got better. I found a healer. You...you won't."

He pulled his finger out, still dry as the moment he put it in, and lifted his loincloth. There was no point in protecting that spot down there; he always left it bare, though he covered his legs, chest, and arms. His cock was already hardening at the thought of what he was going to do to this...this bitch, and he growled under his breath as she squirmed against bonds she'd used against him, against other slaves, against captives she'd brought back from her adventures. They were made to hold someone down for torture. This was just a different sort of torture.

Pressing the head of his cock against her pussy as she threw herself around enough to make the bed squeak, he worked his way forward bit by bit. If she had been any tighter, it would have been painful to him, too, but she was just loose enough for him to slide in and enjoy it. She shouted, shrieking at the top of her lungs like a tomcat on the loose, and he slapped her hip.

"Keep screaming. Let people think you're a whore. See if I care."

"Get out! Get out!"

"No."

He slammed forward instead, making her scream even louder as he filled her to the brim with his cock. Some small smile continued to grow on his face as he hammered in, pulled back, and hammered in again, feeling her clenching and squeezing in vain attempts to keep him out.

With every thrust, a flash of memory flicked through his mind. Her club breaking his arm. Her claws ripping open his stomach. Being stretched out and whipped for an hour. Being tied to the wall as she poured hot ash over him. Torture after torture after torture, never giving him a hint of the abuse that the slave trader had, but doing so much more in the way of physical pain.

And now, now he was taking from her the only thing she'd never taken from him. He was winning. He had won.

She was crying under him in minutes, whimpering and whining like the pussy cat she was, and he had yet to finish. His claws raked through her fur, staining it red, and his teeth hurt from how hard his jaw clenched in a grin. His cock was red as ever, but with blood as well as his own coloring.

"Please...no..."

Her begging didn't stop him, but only pushed him over the edge. He held himself still, filling her, almost wishing she was of his species so he could breed a litter in her before leaving. It would be the final bit of revenge...but it was not meant to be. He slowly pulled out, only to plug her with three fingers before she could leak.

"I'm here for a week...by the end of that, I'll make a decision about whether to kill you. Until then. I'll see how many ways I can hurt you that you didn't hurt me..."

She didn't respond, only whimpered. That was enough for him.

The End