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Love, Fur & Fangs

• a Skyrim Adventure

The Legionnaire glanced up from his list as he crossed off the prisoner who'd just tried to make a run for it - thus earning himself a slightly faster, somewhat more painful execution for his troubles - and wrinkled his brow. "Wait... you there. Step forwards." he called. The man reluctantly stepped up to him, eyes still lingering on the crumbled corpse of the would-be runner. Looking him up and down, he pondered his list, concern deepening. It was obviously an Imperial - pale, slim, dark-haired and sporting a somewhat scraggly beard. Certainly, nobody was going to mistake him for a Nord. "Who are you?" he queried.

"Placidus Teutonicus." The man sullenly replied, glaring at him. The Legionnaire nodded. "You're a long way from the Imperial City. What're you doing in Skyrim?" It was curiosity more than anything else. Most of the Imperials around these parts were wearing Legionnaire armor, and they certainly weren't there by choice. A deserter, perhaps? That would, at least, explain the man's tight-bitten silence on the topic. Glancing over at his superior, he shrugged. "Captain, what should we do? He's not on the list."

The answer did not particularly surprise him. "Forget the list. He goes to the block." she harshly replied. Mercy had never been one of her strong suits, as he well knew. "By your orders, Captain." he replied, letting just a hint of disapproval seep into his voice. Sighing, he then turned to the prisoner again. "I am sorry. We'll make sure your remains are returned to Cyrodiil. Follow the Captain, prisoner..." As the dark haired man shuffled off in the captain's firmly-marching wake, he bent his head over his list and made a detailed note of what had just happened, including whose authority it had happened on. Maybe the man_was_ just a deserter who'd gotten caught at the border while trying to flee his post, but then again, maybe he wasn't and someone back in the Imperial City was going to raise hell when a decapitated corpse arrived on their doorstep. If so, he was going to make damn sure that none of that hell wound up falling on his shoulders.

Nearby, the sound of an axe slicing through muscle, tendon and bone to strike the wooden block beneath resounded sickeningly, followed by a thud as a now-loose head hit the ground. A slight shiver went down his spine. You never really got used to it. A cloud crossed the sun, darkening the execution-grounds to match his mood. Then a distant, wooshing sound made him raise his head, catching a glimpse of something big and black somewhere up in the blue sky. Someone was shouting. Screaming. Dread raised the hairs at the nape of his neck as he reluctantly turned to stare in the direction of the executioner's block - just as an incomprehensibly loud voice rang out, speaking in a language that had not been heard on Tamriel since the reign of Tiber Septim...

Vilkas sighed as he watched the newest member of the Companions leave their home, the mead-hall of Jorrvaskr, on some errand of Skjor's. "So, another Imperial in our ranks..." he commented snidely, shaking his head. "I wonder what Ysgramor would have thought of the way we welcome outsiders into his hall, during a time when Skyrim itself is as war with the Empire." His brother's heavy brow wrinkled at this. "Aw, come on..." Farkas said, taking a swig of his mead. "You know Kodlak's made it clear we're not to get into the whole... Stormcloaks-versus-Imperials thing. And besides, look at Ria, eh? She's turned out well - this hall has rarely seen a more devoted Shield-Sister than her!"

This, Vilkas had to concede, and he quickly let his eyes skim the long tables to make sure she hadn't been within earshot. Imperial or not, Ria's devotion to the ideals of the Companions really _was_undeniable, and he could easily believe her claims to have dreamt of joining their ranks since early childhood. "Well, I hope Placi turns out just as true to our ideals." he said out loud. Farkas shrugged. "I'm sure he will. And besides, we can always use another steady sword-arm. Did I tell you how he jumped in to help when me and Aela were taking down that giant near the meadery?" Vilkas rolled his eyes. "No, but Aela did mention it. Shows he's got spirit, I suppose, not that the two of you would've really needed the help."

He glanced over at the shapely, red-haired huntress, who was currently sitting further down the table... and, he noted, staring thoughtfully at the same recently-closed door that he'd just been looking at. "She thinks he's got potential..." Farkas half-whispered, noticing his brother's gaze. Vilkas snorted. "She must. I rather doubt he's on her mind because he makes her wet between the legs. Not with that scraggly excuse for a beard. A wise man knows to stick to stubble if he can't grow a proper one!" He shared a grin with his brother who, like himself, eschewed heavy beards in favor of a lighter dusting. Then he sighed again, and spared another glance for Aela. "Think she'll suggest him for the Circle in due time?" He speculated.

"If he proves himself in the field, probably..." Farkas replied with a shrug. Vilkas grimaced, shaking his head. "Likely won't take that much proving, even." he mumbled. "Considering how she views the beast-blood, I imagine that's exactly the 'potential' she sees in him. Well, at least sharing in our 'blessing' might help his beard." Absently, he scratched his cheek. He'd certainly noticed how much faster his own whiskers grew since he and his brother had first been guided to the Underforge and shared in its secrets...

Durak looked around curiously as he stepped into Whiterun, eyes alert for any likely marks. Isran had told him to find some new recruits to help swell the ranks of the Dawnguard, and he certainly couldn't argue that they needed more warm bodies if they were to make any progress on the grand cause of eradicating the scourge of vampirism from Skyrim altogether. When it came to able-bodied men ready to fight for a cause, Whiterun seemed like the place to start - since Jarl Balgruuf had wisely elected to avoid getting involved in the unfolding civil war, the locals weren't being drafted into the Legion or the Stormcloaks. Which would hopefully free them up to help fight a far more insidious foe than either of those factions could ever hope to be...

Wandering the streets for a bit, he struck up conversation with a few guards - asking if any of them were looking for a more adventurous post, or if they knew of any likely warriors who might be interested in such an offer? The first option did not pan out well. As soon as he mentioned the possibility of fighting vampires, a lot of otherwise-hearty guardsmen seemed to suddenly grow antsy and develop bad knees that,alas, prevented any kind of long-distance travel. However, one of them did perk up a bit at the second question, mentioning that the Companions had recently gotten themselves a new Harbinger - apparently, old Kodlak Whitemane had finally departed for Sovngarde, and a young up-and-comer who'd managed to impress the rest of that venerable group with his martial prowess had taken over the role. An adventuring sort, more inclined to look for some trouble that might earn him coin or renown, than sitting around Jorrvaskr dispensing sage wisdom. On top of that, word was that he'd slain at least one_dragon_ near the city, with some even claiming that he was the Dragonborn spoken of in myth and prophecy. Quite the impressive resume...

Armed with a description, Durak headed deeper inside the city, now searching for a specific target rather than just anyone who looked suitably healthy and well-armed. At the marketplace, he spotted his quarry - currently in the process of handing an impressively-sized mammoth-tusk over to a pretty, red-headed merchant. He took a moment to look the fellow up and down before hailing him - reputation was all well and good, but rumors all too often grew in the telling. This fellow... he was slim, but muscular - wiry of build, limbs rich with dense, whipcord muscle. A suit of light scale-armor covered his vitals, and a shield that looked like it had probably been taken off a dead legionnaire hung on his back - clearly, he was the sort of warrior who believed firmly in the old adage that the best defense was not getting hit in the first place. A rather nice recurve-bow with an elaborate, nordic design could be seen beside the shield, adding further credence to that assessment - though the well-worn handle of the longsword buckled at his waist made it clear that he wasn't shy about dealing with problems up close and personal if it came to that, either. Probably a product of Eorlund Gray-Mane's famous Skyforge, considering who he was.

As the man turned away from the female merchant - whose sparkling eyes seemed to linger on him in a rather suggestive fashion - Durak quickly stepped up and drew his attention. "You there. The Dawnguard is looking for anyone willing to fight against the growing vampire menace!" He declared brusquely. Wouldn't do to let this Placi-fellow know that he'd been looking for him specifically - after all, the Companions were mercenaries these days, and the Dawnguard's finances weren't great at this time. So better to try appealing to his sense of adventure before his purse. "What do you say?"

The man - Placi, Harbinger of the Companions and possibly prophesied hero - stopped in his tracks and scratched the dense, dark beard that covered his jaw, helping to soften his obviously Imperial facial features into something a bit closer to the aesthetics of the local Nords. "I must admit, I haven't noticed any vampire menace..." he commented, somewhat predictably. Most hadn't, which just went to demonstrate how ingenious the vile beasts had been to launch whatever dark plot they were cooking up now, while everyone was distracted by the reemergence of the dragons and the ongoing civil war. "You're not paying attention, then!" Durak thus retorted, before launching into his usual recruitment-spiel, bringing up the recent attack on the Vigilants of Stendarr and the importance of nipping this emerging threat in the bud, rather than letting it grow and fester.

He didn't exactly get an immediate buy-in, but the warrior seemed at least somewhat interested, and promised that he'd 'get around' to visiting Fort Dawnguard at some point. With an inwards sigh, Durak provided the directions and moved on, crossing his fingers that the fellow would bite. He didn't look all that intimidating at a glance, sure, but there was a certain presence to him. A scent of blood. And besides, he hadn't had too much luck in his recruitment-drive so far - the only other person who'd expressed any kind of interest was a rather nervous Nord lad who mostly seemed to want a more interesting future than inheriting his father's farm. Not exactly the shining army that Skyrim needed ready to stand in its defense at the moment. Shaking his head heavily, he moved on - best to try for a few more likely recruits before her returned, unless he wanted an earful from Isran...

Serana tumbled into the wan light of the tomb, her enhanced reflexes kicking in just in time to let her catch herself before she hit the stone floor. Mind racing, she staggered to her feet, trying to orient herself. Yes... Dimhollow Crypt... right where her mother had sealed her away, 'for her own protection', without bothering to explain why. How long had she lain in a death-like stupor, locked within that accursed monolith? And how had she been released?

A beastlike smell tickled her nostrils, along with the promise of warm, delicious blood, prompting her to focus her attention on the man standing in front of her, looking very surprised to see her. "Unh... where is..." she groaned, trying to get her vocal cords to cooperate after gods alone knew how many years of silence. "Who sent you here?" She managed to get out. That was the important thing to establish. Was he some servant of her Father, sent to retrieve her after whatever threat her mother had been concerned about had passed, or perhaps part of that threat? He certainly didn't smell like a vampire himself, though... he didn't exactly smell like a human, either.

The man seemed to rally his wits. He looked to be of Imperial stock, though judging by the beard he was sporting, he seemed to have very much 'gone native' among the hardy Nords. Wiry, battle-hardened, probably an experienced warrior. Decent equipment, though nothing spectacular. Except the silver ring that was glimmering on his finger - a simple design, no gemstone inset, but a sculpted wolf's head where one would normally have gone. Her instincts suggested that this, at least, was home to some powerful magic. "I'm... not sure I should answer that, without knowing who you are." He finally replied, wrinkling his brow. "Though I can say I wasn't sent here for you - rather, I was simply told to investigate this place."

Grimacing, she tried to get her still-sleepy mind working. He genuinely seemed surprised to see her, so that checked out - and he still hadn't attacked her. Surely, if he was an enemy, he would've seized on her moment of weakness as she tumbled out of her sarcophagus, not politely waited for her to recover and recenter herself. "Well, can you at least tell me if the one who sent you was someone... like me?" She tried, hoping to get a better idea of the situation. He looked her up and down - which was understandable, though his eyes seemed to linger on her face for a while. Well, her eyes probably_were_ quite striking to a mortal, and certainly the most obvious sign of her inhuman nature. "You mean... a vampire." He concluded. He sounded... conflicted, somehow, and still did not answer her question.

"Why were you locked away like this?" He instead asked, probing further. She grimaced. It seemed like neither one of them knew too much of what was going on. Still, it appeared that he was somehow even more clueless than her and, at the moment, it seemed sensible to keep things that way. "That's... complicated." She thus replied. "And I'm not totally sure that I can trust you." That much was certainly true - though really, she probably shouldn't be trusting him at all, period. Still, there was just something about the way he was looking at her, the way he was_standing_, that made her feel like she had nothing to fear from him. "If you want to know the whole story, help me get back to my family's home."

He seemed to consider this for a moment. An unreasonable demand, by most standards. She hadn't even promised him any real reward, though doubtlessly, her Father would be happy to dole something out in repayment for her return, however distant he had grown. And yet, she was not entirely surprised when after only this brief hesitation, he shrugged. "Where do you need to go?" He asked, voice even, as if taking escort-jobs from a strange vampire he'd just met in a tomb was an everyday sort of thing for him. A smile creased her lips, though she was careful not to let her fangs show. Her instincts did not deceive her - this one would be useful at worst, and invaluable at best. "My family used to live on an island to the west of Solitude." She replied. "I would guess that they still do. By the way... my name is Serana. Good to meet you."

This prompted a a smile on his face as well, and a quick bow that bespoke manners more at home in the heartlands of Cyrodill than the wastes of Skyrim. "The pleasure is all mine, m'lady. Let's head out, by all means. Though, I hope you realize - Solitude is quite a ways away, so this won't be a quick journey." She nodded, glad that he hadn't asked any more probing questions for the moment. There were still a lot of thoughts she needed to sort out in her head - and then there was the matter of figuring out how long she'd been stuck inside that monolith. But that could all wait 'till they'd gotten out of this place - certainly, however long or short her slumber, it had been more than enough to make her earnestly long for fresh air and maybe even a bit of sunshine!

Serana's head buzzed as she trudged along behind her new bodyguard - who, she'd learned, gloried in the name of Placidus Teutonicus, though he'd seemingly gotten quite accustomed to going by just Placi. The local Nords apparently had little patience for overlong, overly fancy Cyrodilic names. He'd also provided her with other, more troublesome information, however - like the fact that she'd apparently spent several ages entombed in her crypt. An entire empire had risen, faced many difficulties, and now seemed set to crumble - all while she'd been stuck there. Centuries had passed. Certainly more than she'd expected or been prepared for.

It was enough to make her wonder if her current course was even wise. Would her Father still be holding Castle Volkihar? Would the rift between him and her mother have escalated beyond the cold air that had hovered between them before? Normally, the later would've been her main worry - for an immortal vampire, the passage of the centuries meant little. But Placi had, somewhat reluctantly, admitted to her that he'd actually been investigating Dimhollow Crypt on the behest of a group of dedicated vampire-hunters dubbed the Dawnguard - and the existence of such a group was enough to make her worry. He'd also been quick to assure her, however, that he held no real allegiance for them - from what he'd said, it seemed like he'd joined their ranks mostly out of curiosity. And the looks he gave her when he thought she wasn't paying attention suggested that he'd now decided that he was rather more curious about vampires - or one_vampire in particular - than he was about vampire-_slaying.

That was, undeniably, very convenient for her - but at the same time, she wasn't really sure how to feel about his attention. Shooting him down seemed inadvisable, seeing as she was rather relying on him as a protector and guide in this Skyrim, much-changed by the passage of the ages and now apparently in the grips of both a bloody civil war and the return of the dragons of old. Certainly, it did not seem as if she would have the opportunity to get bored in this age. Well, hopefully, he'd stick to just staring at her behind every opportunity he got, and not make any more... overt moves. Sure, he was pleasant enough company, and easy on the eyes to boot, but... she just hadn't been particularly comfortable thinking about those kinds of things, ever since the ritual that had made her and her mother Daughters of Coldharbor.

The thought alone made her shiver. That ritual had been... demeaning. Humiliating. Invasive. Was the power it had granted her worth it? Maybe. Arguably. Perhaps. But she'd certainly paid a steep price for it. Originally, she'd believed that it was simply the act of becoming a vampire that had cooled her blood and killed the ardor of youth that had once possessed her, but seeing several of her Father's female minions gleefully use seduction as a tool to isolate targets or control marks had forced her to acknowledge, if only silently, that there was probably more to it than that.

Point was, if Placi did start making outright advances, she'd have to either try to let him down so gently that he didn't decide helping her wasn't worth the effort after all, or else... play along, however that thought sickened her. One path was risky but would cost her nothing save a bit of awkwardness if it worked, the other was safe and likely to give her a firmer hold over her new bodyguard... but at a steep price. Not an easy choice to make, and one she sincerely hoped she wouldn't have to.

"Look out! Troll!" Placi's sharp words snapped her out of her reverie, drawing her eyes instantly to the target. They were currently skirting the northern edge of the Throat of the World, and apparently, one of the Frost Trolls that dwelt there had decided to range down into the foothills in search of food. It had already spotted them, and was charging downhill at a terrifying pace, pounding the ground with its long, ape-like arms while roaring a hunting-cry. Placi's bow was already in his hands, the first arrow in the air and the second well on its way. Wooden shafts sprouted on the troll's chest and arms, seemingly ignored altogether by the thick-skinned beast.

Cursing, she twisted her fingers into arcane symbols and called up the crackling power of lightning, letting it fly in the same direction. Ice-magic was her forte, really, but against that thing, it would be quite useless. Worse, she was still recovering from her long slumber, her full powers returning only slowly. A quick lightning-bolt was about the best she could do in this case, and the troll barely paid more attention to that than it had to the arrows - taking it on the shoulder without stumbling. She aimed the second one more carefully, and struck it full in the face - making it flinch, losing speed as it instinctively covered its head with one massive hand, awkwardly continuing its charge on three limbs.

This delay gave Placi time enough to put some more arrows into the beast - turning its belly and chest into a pincushion - but the troll was apparently really hungry, and refused to be deterred. Worse, as it reached them and Placi discarded his bow to heft his shield and draw his sword, the monster demonstrated that there was a glimmer of slightly-more-than-animal intelligence in its thick skull. Clearly, it had been more heavily impacted by her thunderbolts than his arrows, and thus had decided that she was the primary threat - simply shouldering its way past Placi, sending him skidding across the snowy ground with an offhand swipe against his shield. Next thing she knew, a massive fist reached for her, too quickly for even her vampiric reflexes to keep up - and a set of big, dirty nails scraped across her ribs, lifting her off the ground and sending her tumbling through the air in a shower of blood and gore.

With preternatural agility, she managed to twist herself around in the air, landing on all fours even as she skidded across the ground. Trying to rise to her feet, however, she found herself immediately stumbling and falling to one knee, instinctively guarding her damaged chest with one arm. Her head swam. She was loosing too much blood, too quickly. Adrenaline pumped through what was left in her as she raised her head, mind racing madly, watching the world slow down to a crawl. The Frost Troll was still on her, pouncing forwards, ignoring the bushel of arrows stuck in its body - raising its hands for a devastating overhead blow that she wouldn't be able to dodge or guard.

Placi was off to the side, having recovered from the shove he got moments earlier, dashing forwards - moving as if through a thick syrup. His mouth was open, and through her ringing ears, she could still hear his shout - "Serana!" He really did have the hots for her, didn't he? Not that it'd matter, it seemed. Even if he could get to the troll in time, he wouldn't be able to do anything - at least, not anything that'd matter for her purposes. But... that ring she had noticed earlier... was it glowing? Throbbing, almost? She could feel it somehow, as if it was a living thing.

The frozen moment ended, and a huge, gray-furred body smashed into the troll just before it could bring its hands down - throwing it off balance and sending it tumbling back. A hungry snarl reverberated across the desolate mountainside, followed by a deafening, blood-curdling howl. A werewolf was standing right in front of her, back turned - a mountain of furry muscle, its back and shoulders one big mass of twisted tendons, made to support its long, powerful, clawed arms. It was, in every sense, a match for the troll - and also quite clearly enraged.

Growling, it leaped forwards, arms raised. The Frost Troll met it, spreading its simian jaws to answer the wolf's howl with a roar of its own. Claws interlocked in a wrestling-match that made the ground itself tremble, while the two beasts snapped at each other, putting their strength and ferocity to the test. It was not a terribly fair_test, however - much as the troll had been able to shrug off the earlier barrage of attacks, they had still _weakened it. No creature could fight at full capacity with a dozen arrows poking out of its body in various places. Snarling, the troll was pushed back... before finally losing its footing as its short, stubby legs slipped out from under it. The werewolf did not hesitate to capitalize on this - immediately, it was on top of the fallen monster, batting aside flailing arms as its powerful jaws zeroed in on their target. Long, jagged fangs bit into tough hide and thick muscle, rending and tearing... and a moment later, the troll was still, its throat torn out, its eyes dead and empty.

Victorious, the werewolf raised its head and howled, arms outstretched - an image of primal fury, fangs and claws alike red with freshly-shed blood. A shiver ran down her spine as she took it in. Vampires like her Father prided themselves on being true 'predators of the night', but none she'd met could match this kind of... raw, primal impact. A child, not of Molag Bal's depraved schemes, but of the Huntsman, Hircine, who gloried in the wild and the free. Now, at last, she knew why her instincts had tweaked when Placi first freed her - why he'd seemed not quite human to her eyes.

As the werewolf rose from its savaged prey - as Placidus rose from the remains of the monster he'd slain, she quickly reminded herself - she felt another, stronger shiver run down her back. Her knowledge of werewolves was hardly encyclopedic, but from what she'd heard, most of them had little to no control over themselves once they transformed, often going on deadly rampages as they sated their hunger for flesh on any warm-blooded creature they could find. In her present state, there was obviously little she could do to fight such a magnificent beast - nor could she run. After all, she couldn't even manage to stand.

Fortunately, rather than pounce on her - seeing her as prey or just a threat - the werewolf shifted and shrank, its fuzzy hide vanishing in a process that was too fast to make sense of. Left behind was only Placi in his well-worn armor, shield and sword in hand - until he quickly stowed both of them and rushed over. "Are you okay, Serana?" He demanded, crouching down in front of her. She smiled wanly. "I'll manage..." she said, then winced, resisting the urge to cough. Talking was painful. Her lungs must have been damaged by the troll's talons. It was likely thanks to her vampiric healing that she wasn't coughing up blood right now, but it could only do so much. She'd had no opportunity to feed since she awakened, and while the sky was cloudy, the sun was still high - hampering her powers further.

"I know a bit of Restoration-magic..." Placi said, clearly worried despite her assurances - his eyes lingering on her torn and bloody chest, the wounds there only slowly starting to close. "It's just a basic Healing Hands spell, but..." She shook her head slowly. "Such magic only works on the living..." she explained, wincing again at the pain in her lungs. His eyes widened in understanding - then narrowed. "You... need to feed, don't you? That's why you're healing so slowly..." He seemed to hesitate, while hope rose swiftly in her. Would he truly..?

He would. Leaning forwards, he tipped his head sideways, baring his neck. "Take my blood..." he said quietly. Already, her mouth was watering. As a true Daughter of Coldharbor, she wasn't a slave to the thirst the way so many of her lesser kin were, but it had been so long since she last fed_._ "I'll trust you not to take more than you need." Nodding absently, she reached for him, pulling him closer - and bared her fangs. She'd only take a bit, of course. Just enough to recover from her wounds. She'd never hurt anyone by feeding, not even the pathetic blood-pets that her Father had kept around the dungeons back home, and she certainly wasn't planning to start now.

Her fangs sunk home, and the blood began to flow down her throat. The taste was... intense. Rich and full, almost overpowering. Her starved body hungrily latched on to it, drawing power from it - she could feel her chest tingle as the wounds began to heal at a dizzying pace. Gods it was good! Almost... intoxicating. More than just helping her recover, it was making her feel warm, even kind of flushed - an unusual experience, for a vampire. No... more than flushed, she felt... good. Better than ever! Well, maybe hunger really was the best spice, but still, this was remarkable. How had she never known of this before? Her Father had always spoken of werewolves with disdain - but surely, if he'd ever sampled this deliciousness, he would've acquired a few for his 'wine-cellar' all the same!

It was only when she felt him shiver in her grip that she realized how much and how hungrily she had been drinking his life's blood. With an effort of will, she retracted her fangs - pulling away to leave a pair of bleeding pinpricks on his neck and a noticeable paleness on his skin. She, meanwhile, felt... alive, paradoxical though it seemed. Her body was warm and tingly, her breath quickened - bringing back distant memories of her life before the ritual. Leaning back, she sighed contentedly and let one hand caress her throat, as if she would be able to feel the velvet-smooth blood that had just finished draining down it.

Placi was looking rather intently at her, she noted calmly, despite presumably being at least somewhat woozy from losing so much blood. "I fear I may have drunk more than I intended..." she calmly admitted. "Thirstier than I'd realized, I suppose." Normally, she'd have been far more concerned - about him, and about how this might affect his view of her and willingness to continue assisting. But she just felt so... relaxed right now. So_confident_, like there was no reason to worry about anything.

"Ah... that's fine... I'll recover soon." He answered, somewhat absently - raising one hand and turning it towards his chest as it began to emit a golden glow. Restoration-magic - not exactly of impressive magnitude, as he'd said, but it'd certainly help him recover from the blood-loss far quicker. He was still looking at her, though... but not at her face. Curiously, she glanced down - and giggled at how long it had taken her to realize. The troll's attack had shredded the magically-reinforced leather armor that had covered her chest, and once her healing-ability kicked into high gear, her shed blood had been reabsorbed through the pores of her skin to aid in the reconstruction of torn and mangled tissue. Thus, she was now essentially topless, her perky breasts peeking through the bloody shreds of her armor, smooth and blood-free. Her nipples, she noted, were poking out from the surrounding softness like a pair of little pebbles.

Normally, she would have been mortified, she belatedly realized. Embarrassed, probably angry in order to cover it, and likely inclined to blame Placi for so blatantly enjoying the sight she was presenting to him. But, she couldn't work up any such feelings right now. In fact... it was kind of nice, feeling him watch her with such ardent eyes. Certainly, if she'd been in any doubt that he had feelings for her, all of this would have provided solid surety on the subject. So, instead of trying to cover herself or slapping him for gluing his eyes to her exposed tits, she just gazed down at the ruin of her armor and sighed. "Looks like I've got some repair-work to do..." she said, a bit of amusement in her voice. "Do you think we can make camp somewhere near here? Far enough away from that troll that we won't be bothered by its stench, preferably."

Placi straightened, tearing his eyes away from her chest for the first time and blushing furiously. "Ah... yes, of course. There's a small stream just down this hill, I believe - would that work?" Nodding lazily, she rose to her feet and stretched, idly noting that he was asking her where they should camp, even though he was ostensibly her guide and thus the one leading the way. "It should. Let's go then - assuming you're good to move as well?" It was hard to tell how pale he still was, honestly, what with all the blushing. Nodding jerkily, he followed her example and climbed to his feet. "Certainly."

He seemed to be making a concerted effort not to stare at her chest as they started moving again - occasionally failing. For her part, Serana rather enjoyed this - feeling the cool breeze caress her breasts, tickling the sensitive nipples... and also feeling his hot eyes on her body. She liked it even more when she started to consider it alongside the vision of primal brutality she knew lurked under his skin - he was handsome, sure, but that werewolf had been_breathtaking._ Was this the youthful ardor she'd once lost, suddenly returned to her? No, she decided - not quite. Her memories of those days were dim at best, but she was certain she'd never felt like this back then. Indeed, she didn't feel like a girl at all - she felt like a woman.

A short walk later, they made camp by a small stream, surrounded by a copse of hardy trees. They were still in the shadow of the Throat of the World - well off the beaten path, which had clearly been a deliberate choice on Placi's part. Wanting to avoid any awkward run-ins with his erstwhile comrades, no doubt. Doffing her top altogether, Serana set about repairing it with an Alteration-spell her mother had taught her for just that purpose - Alteration wasn't exactly her favorite field of magical study, but that particular spell did come in handy when you spent centuries being significantly hardier than your clothes.

As she worked at this, she struck up casual conversation with Placi - who was busying himself improving the campsite and trying not to stare at her tits - asking him about his werewolf nature and the ring. As she'd suspected the moment she saw it, it was no mere piece of enchanted gear, but a Daedric Artifact. "The Ring of Hircine. I... acquired it a while after I became a werewolf." He grimaced, looking away for once. "My first transformation was... rough. Barely stopped myself from massacring half a city, to be perfectly honest. I knew I needed more control, so... I went looking for it."

And he'd certainly found it. By his own account, the ring provided him just about perfect control over his transformation - he could shift back and forth whenever he wanted, as often as he wanted, without ever losing himself to the raging of the beast-blood. As an added bonus, instead of tearing his way out of his clothes and being left naked when he shifted back, the ring somehow displaced all his gear in the moment of transformation, then brought it back as soon as it ended. Certainly, it made for an admirable trump-card, though of course there still was the slight catch that werewolves, like vampires, were hated and feared by most of the peoples of the world. Hence he generally avoided using it when there were any witnesses about. "But, I figured a vampire would be more... tolerant, you know?" His smile was a bit twitchy as he said that, and she wasn't fooled for a moment. He'd made no such calculations in that moment - no, he'd simply used that power without thinking, in order to save her.

Lowering her now nearly-repaired armor, she looked thoughtfully at him again. Somehow, she had expected that strange, confident, heated_feeling that imbibing his blood had brought her to fade rapidly. But no, it was still there - buzzing in her head, making her skin feel warm... particularly between her legs. It was curious, really. In the past, any time such a thought had entered her head, her mind had circled back around to the ritual. And that, inevitably, killed any desire she might have felt. Now, though... it wasn't as if she'd_forgotten what had been done to her on that night, but... it didn't seem so important anymore. Indeed, in carrying it around like a pair of manacles, wasn't she just granting Molag Bal even greater power over her than she'd already been forced to give him?

Better to take control, yes - of her own destiny, and of her own desires. It seemed so obvious now. And with that in mind, why hold back? She knew for a fact that nothing about her vampiric nature prevented her from finding pleasure and enjoyment in sex, and she'd already gone far too many centuries without taking advantage of that fact. She knew that Placi desired her, and fulfilling those desires could only aid her cause. She could even phrase it as a_reward_ for his rescue earlier... no, she didn't like that idea, on reflection. It implied that he was somehow owed such pleasures - owed access to her body - for what he had done. No, that would be entirely the wrong tack to take. So not a reward - but merely a lady's favor, given freely, on a whim.

But how to go about it, exactly? Well, from what she recalled of seeing other vampires employ seduction, it apparently involved a lot of come-hither looks, mixed with a fair bit of hip-swaying and a not insignificant amount of innuendo. But that all seemed like a bit of a waste of time, when considering that she was already topless and getting lustfully ogled. A more direct approach seemed in order, and while this, too, felt like it should be mortifying, those thoughts once again failed to take hold. Why waste time?

Putting down her armor, now fully repaired, she stretched in a way that could not help but once again draw attention to her bared tits - and, sure enough, drew Placi's eyes despite seemingly trying his best to continue focusing on the campfire he'd just gotten going. "Well, that's the repair-work handled..." she commented smoothly. "And it's still early. How about you? Fully recovered from before?" Somewhat nervously, still struggling with his eyes, he nodded. "Yes, no problem - the healing-spell did its job, and I feel just fine. Just... uh. Let me know when you need to feed again. I can recover quickly, after all, and it's safer than having you look for someone in a town or whatnot."

He was basically volunteering to be her blood-pet, it seemed. Interesting. She flashed him her best smile and nodded. "I'll keep that in mind... now, since we're both in such fine shape, would you care to have some fun before we turn in for the night?" She let her voice drop to a somewhat throatier register for the last bit - directness was all well and good, but it couldn't hurt to take a_few_ notes from the seductive approach. Placi jumped at this suggestion, beads of sweat shining on his forehead - though admittedly, that might be due to the time he'd spent kneeling beside the campfire, feeding and securing it.

"Some... fun?" He asked, sounding like he couldn't quite believe it. "What... do you mean?" Sighing, she pulled off her boots, climbed to her feet, and slowly slid the tight leather pants that were part of her armor down - dragging her underwear down along with them. "Do you really need to ask, hmm?" She asked, a somewhat mocking lilt to her voice. She couldn't help it - she just felt too good, too confident, and the way this powerful warrior seemed downright intimidated by her forwardness only reinforced it. "Surely, you did not manage to grow that beard without learning about the birds and the bees along the way..." Stepping out of her piled clothing, she stood naked beneath the setting sun and the emerging stars, enjoying the feeling of the cool evening air and the heat radiating from the fire against her bared skin.

He did not immediately answer, but at least he wasn't trying to hide his interest anymore. Standing by the fire, he was staring openly at her body, eyes roaming, face flushed, a tent growing in his fur breeches. He'd already laid out his bedroll near the fire, she noted. Very convenient. Stepping up closer, she ran a hand over his cheek, feeling his coarse beard against her palm. "Are you reluctant to lay with a vampire, perhaps?" She asked softly. "Many would be, I suppose, though mostly out of fear that it might be a ploy to feed on them - as indeed, it often would be. But I don't see how that might be an issue in our particular case..."

Shaking his head, he pulled off his horned helmet and wiped his brow. "No, no, it's not like that, I was just... surprised, that's all. So, uh, sure - if you want, sure!" She chuckled, taking a step back to give him a bit of space. "Oh, I want, all right..." she purred. It seemed to come so... natural, now that she'd gotten started. "It's literally been ages since I got any. So kindly get rid of all that obstructing armor in a hurry, hmm?" He did, as swiftly as she could have wished - perhaps he'd gotten some practice in divesting himself of it quickly and efficiently during his early days as a werewolf, before he'd gotten his hands on the Ring of Hircine and thus gained the ability to sidestep the issue of tearing his armor apart whenever he transformed? Said ring, she noted, stayed on his finger... convenient, considering some of the thoughts that were starting to boil up in her even as the wetness between her legs grew more acute.

As soon as he'd thrown aside the last bit of iron-reinforced leather and fur, she grabbed him and pushed him down atop his bedroll, having already concluded that she probably shouldn't count on _him_taking charge. The way he responded to her touch - rolling with the shove, putting up no resistance - delighted her almost as much as the thick rod that stood out, near-horizontal, from amidst the dark-brown tangle of his pubic hair. Kneeling astride his hips, feeling his shaft throb lustily against her wet labia, she pinned his shoulders and bent over him to plant a heated kiss on his lips. He eagerly responded, their tongues dancing together even as his beard tickled her chin.

She had little patience for foreplay, however. The smell of swiftly-pumping blood and freshly-shed sweat that now mingled with the smoky scent of the nearby campfire was raising her desires to a fevered pitch. Placi had to be in similar straits, but he'd made no move - his arms twitching by his side, as if he was afraid that trying to grab her would make her vanish into the evening air like a mirage. Groaning with need, she pushed herself upright again, lifting her hips and gripping his tool while stabilizing herself with her other hand. The smoothly rounded cockhead slipped against her well-lubricated slit once, then she managed to get the angle right and felt her labia begin to part around it.

Without hesitation, she dropped her hips, swallowing his shaft in one swift descent. She moaned as she felt him inside her at last - thick, hard and hot - while he simultaneously groaned. Spreading her legs further, she twisted her hips and pushed them downwards, eager to make sure she used every last inch of available rod, rubbing her bare slit against his own lush pubes. Did he find her bared groin erotic, perhaps? Ever since the Ritual, she'd grown not a hair anywhere but on her scalp, and what she'd had before had vanished over the centuries - so it had not been a matter of choice. But somehow, she no longer minded that...

Leaning slightly forwards, she rested her hands on his hairy chest and grinned down at him. He looked awestruck, rather than merely pleased. "Well?" She demanded. "Are you just going to lie there while I do all the work? Grab my hips and match my pace!" With a jerk, his arms rose as ordered, fingers digging into the subtle flesh of her buttocks as they gripped her tightly. "Yes, of course - sorry!" Placi declared, looking flustered. She was fairly certain he wasn't really a virgin, but he certainly didn't seem to have much experience with girls taking charge the way she had.

As she began to ride him, bouncing her hips up and down atop his rock-hard erection, he obediently assisted her - adding more force to movements, and once she got properly going, even raising his hips to meet her down-thrust every time. The pleasure was radiating out from her groin, quickening her heart and her breath, leaving her panting and moaning. How could she have gone without this for so long? Not that it had been like this the last time. She'd been just an adolescent back then, really - before the ritual - and a noble's daughter to boot. What had she really experienced, even? Some awkward fumbling and thrusting with the handsome stable-boy, more thrilled by hiding the affair from her strict parents than with the lad's often short-lived efforts. Then, the ritual... leaving her cold to such pleasures for far too long.

Placi groaned, his fingers digging even more firmly into her hips, his movements suddenly jerky. Something hot and slimy was pouring into her womb, fallow though it was, even as his whole shaft throbbed. Longer than the stable-boy had lasted, back then, but still not too impressive... well, she'd take it as a compliment, she decided - a sign of how aroused he was by her body. Besides, he did not seem to be softening up in the slightest, nor had he stopped assisting her movements - indeed, he was fucking her as hard as ever, teeth gritted and forehead sweaty. Grinning, she lengthened her movements - rising higher, letting his cockhead caress her inner labia before she slammed her hips down again, faster and more forceful than before. He'd be extra-sensitive after cumming, wouldn't he? How would such a rough ride feel to him under those circumstances?

A pressure was steadily building inside her, somewhere around her freshly-filled womb. Her crotch felt hot and tingly, and she was acutely aware of her clit - engorged and out of its hood, caressed by the air as it rose and fell. She was so close now... yes, she knew what an orgasm felt like, though her first lover, the stable-boy from back when her family had still been living, mortal people, hadn't ever managed to get her there. One, after all, had been forced upon her during the Ritual - just one more humiliation from the Daedric Prince who counted 'King of Rape' among his well-earned titles. Now, though... she felt ready to reclaim it.

With a cry, she came - seizing her undulating motion, to instead press herself down on his rod, squeezing him between her thighs as her nails dug into his chest, drawing sweet, delicious blood. For endless seconds, her body vibrated with the releasing tension, her head turned back to let her eyes stare blindly up between the boughs of the surrounding trees at the pale, rising moon. Then, finally, she collapsed forwards with a satisfied sigh. This, then, was what that ecstasy felt like when it was seized rather than 'gifted'. Such pure, primal delight!

She sat there, his cock still hard inside her, for a couple of seconds - then curved her spine, bending over him. Not seeking his lips this time, but his chest - where her nails had dug into his flesh, without any complaint she'd heard. No sense letting good blood go to waste, after all. From skin and chest-hair alike, she licked it - it was only a few drops in all, but the flavor had only _improved,_she decided, by having mixed with his fresh and salty sweat. It tingled on her lips and tongue, renewing the clarity, confidence, and desire that her first taste of it had imbued her with.

Yes... she wasn't done. Not nearly. Her blood still ran hot, her pale skin remained flushed, and his virility clearly remained solid. But... just continuing to ride like this seemed a rather dull option, didn't it? And it did not seem as if he was about to grab her, roll her over, and set his own pace. Her eyes easily pierced the gathering gloom to analyze his face - his eyes wide with desire, his dark-brown hair mussed and messy, and his lips slightly parted in a steady pant. No doubt, he craved a second release as well, especially considering the way she'd kept riding him well after his first orgasm, but he was making no move still, and seemed entirely unconcerned by the scratches on his chest.

So, clearly, if she wanted more, she'd had to ask for it - which meant deciding what to ask for. A few things immediately buzzed through her head. Firstly, there was that... other_hole. Something she'd never thought to explore with her first lover, all those ages ago, only to have her first experience with it tainted by the demeaning and depraved Ritual she had been forced to undergo. Second, there were the various possible positions that a man and a woman could come together in - she might not have had _practical_experience with many of them, but she'd lived for centuries even before she found herself missing several ages locked in a crypt. Enough to pick up a solid understanding of the _theory of sexual relations, however little the subject had interested her at the time.

The third thing, of course, was the hulking mountain of fur-covered muscle she'd seen earlier, emerging from this somewhat nondescript Imperial. Massive and powerful, a far shot from his slender and wiry physique. Would it be... depraved? Taboo? Meaningless notions. She was a vampire, a Daughter of Coldharbor - the laws of man and nature alike bent before her. Licking her lips - catching a few stray traces of blood there - she leaned forwards again and smiled hungrily at him. "Think you're good for another round, hmm?" She taunted. He nodded, jerkily. "Of... of course!" He answered, as his fingers once again dug into her ass-cheeks. He hadn't let go of her hips even as she just sat there, recovering her faculties after the orgasm.

Slapping away his hands, she pulled her legs underneath her and rose to her feet, standing spread-legged above him. "Well, then, let's switch things up a bit..." she purred, stepping off him. "Get up." He obeyed, gratifyingly quickly. There was an almost... puppy-dog like eagerness to him, which seemed quite appropriate considering his hidden nature. Kind of reminded her of the Death-Hounds that her father had started keeping as pets after they became vampires - ferocious and frightening to look at, sure, but they'd roll over for a belly-rub like any other dog once they got to know you.

Taking his place on the bed-roll, she positioned herself on all fours, shaking her ass invitingly and glancing over her shoulder. As he approached her from behind, however, she clicked her tongue. "Actually... I think I'd prefer the other you for this position. More... appropriate, wouldn't you say?" He blinked, seemingly taken aback - then his eyes widened visibly. "Wait... you don't mean...?" he gasped. She laughed and shook her ass at him again. "Of course I do. You said you had full control over your transformation, didn't you? So transform, and take me like the beast you are!"

He swallowed, hesitated for a moment - then shifted. For a second, his body seemed to bulge and shake... then with a growl, it gave way for the beast within him. The werewolf, tall and imposing, all muscle, fang and fur. From the sheathe between his legs, a very different_tool now emerged - bright-red, with a pointy tip and a bulge near the base, every inch glistening with her own juices. She'd seen its like before a few times - after all, dogs tended not to care who happened upon them when they rutted together in the streets. A canine cock, but _huge, as one would expect of such a towering beast.

For a moment, the size of it made her hesitate. She knew, after all, what that bulge at the bottom meant. Thick as it was, it would grow thicker yet soon enough. But, as the werewolf bent over her - spreading his hind-legs rather than bending them, letting his cock swing down to caress the length of her ass-crack, a shiver of lust ran through her. No hesitation, no second thoughts - not now. Tonight, she was taking it all back. Turning her head back to the front - not trusting her expression - she opened her mouth and whetted her lips with her tongue.

He was still trying to position himself appropriately when her voice made him freeze in his track. "Use my ass this time - and don't hold back! I want to feel it all inside of me!" He replied only with a high-pitched "Yip!" sound - presumably, he could not speak while in werewolf-form. Then he shifted above her, pointing his shaft downwards, even as she curled her back to give him a better angle. The tapered tip of his lupine cock slid down the canyon between her buttocks one more, but this time it stopped in the middle, coming to rest against her tiny, puckered sphincter as her pulse rapidly rose in expectation.

She was expecting it to hurt. In fact, she knew that it would hurt - it certainly had last time, and while back then she'd had no opportunity to prepare that tight orifice for such intrusion, this time she simply hadn't bothered. Besides, if this experience was to erase and supplant the first one, it should be made to feel similarly, yes? But, while she certainly registered pain as the werewolf's pointy cock pushed open her resisting sphincter, driven by the beast's massive musculature, it honestly didn't hurt nearly as bad as she'd expected. The shape of his cock helped, she thought dimly as the sense of stretching and intrusion rolled through her - as did the layer of fine lubrication she'd covered it with beforehand. Mostly, though, it probably just came down to the fact that she was a vampire now - and hadn't been during the Ritual, at least the early parts of it. Her ageless, immortal body was far tougher than her old one, and she had noticed that things such as, say, getting nearly torn in half by a hungry Frost Troll, didn't hurt nearly as badly as one might have expected. Apparently, that applied here too.

Thus, with only a slight sense of sharp pain around her straining sphincter, she could focus fully on enjoying the sensation of the long, thick, interestingly-shaped cock sliding into her ass, filling it pleasantly. Down to the bulge at the bottom - the 'knot', she dimly recalled - it was similar in dimensions to what he had been packing before. Said knot thus added nearly two inches of very thick, very hot extra length. Of course, actually getting it inside_was another matter - even without swelling, that bulge was noticeably thicker than the shaft above it, and her ass was already straining to handle _that.

So as the initial, steady thrust reached that point, the top of the knot pushed against her sphincter - and bounced off. A low, uncertain growl vibrated down from above her... perhaps he was worried about hurting her? She certainly wasn't. The mild pain of the initial penetration had, if anything, emboldened her further. Besides, she kind of wanted it to hurt, at least a bit... more than it currently did, anyway. To make this close enough to her first anal experience that it would be able to supplant it in her mind. So instead of joining in his hesitation, she pushed her ass back against him, feeling the tension in her sphincter as it struggled with the thick knot. "Come on, surely all that muscle is good for more than that..." she growled up at him. "Get a better grip, and try again! I told you, I want all of it!"

This time, he didn't hesitate - indeed, his compliance was admirably prompt. Until that moment, he'd been on all fours - something that his wolflike body made fairly convenient. Now, he reared back, lifting his long, powerful arms and putting them to different use. Each of his paw-like hands were the size of her head, the claws several inches long - and now, one of them gripped her shoulder firmly, while the other wrapped around her hips to steady them. Then, with a growl, he did as she'd ordered - thrusting forwards even as he pulled her forcefully back against it, catching her overstrained sphincter between a rock-hard cock and a hard hand.

There was no denying that force. Her ass gave up resisting, and his cock slammed home - piercing her to the root, leaving his fuzzy hips tickling her buttocks, the edge of his sheath rubbing her sphincter. She bit her lip, refusing to scream like she had last time... for this, yes, this was the pain she'd been looking for. A sharp, burning sensation had swallowed her asshole, like if someone had traced the contours of her sphincter with the tip of a white-hot knife. But... already it was fading, as her tortured rectum was allowed to contract around the thinner base of his cock, and beyond that point, an unparalleled sense of fullness waited. He was so deep inside of her, stretching her in every direction, ensuring that she could feel the contours of his tool with perfect precision - the little dip in the tip where his urethra emerged, the veins that ran down the shaft... and of course, the smooth knot that even now was starting to swell.

They were locked together now, she knew - tied, just like the dogs in heat she'd stumbled upon in the past. It had taken significant force to squeeze his knot inside of her even in its deflated state - now that it had swollen to what felt like the size of a particularly healthy apple, it wasn't leaving again. She could feel the pressure of this expansion in her pussy as well, as it deformed the recently-stimulated tissue. Was that where the pleasure was supposed to come from? She'd never been clear on that. The first time had been nothing but pain and humiliation. But she did knew that at least some women - and, for that matter, some men - did enjoy such penetration, so there had to be something to it.

Getting her breathing - and her jaw - under control once more, she opened her mouth, briefly licking the blood from her lower lip. "That's more like it..." she complimented him, keeping her voice low and throaty. "Now, didn't I already tell you not to hold back? Come on - show me what that big body of yours can do!" She was egging him on, and with an obedient bark, he shifted his stance forwards again - letting go of her body in favor of digging his nails into the ground beside the bedroll again. It seemed like the best way to go about this - no sense dragging things out. Maybe she'd find that supposed pleasure somewhere along the way, but if not, this should speed things on their way to his orgasm, and the subsequent deflation of the knot that tied them together, all the quicker.

Such calculated thoughts rapidly fled her mind as he began to fuck her. It wasn't like before - the knot ensured that his thrusts were limited to maybe a single inch in either direction, enabled by the slight bit of shaft that existed between the bottom of the knot and his sheath, as well as her aching asshole's ability to stretch around said bottom-of-the-knot as he pulled back. Thus, inevitably, a canine cock led to canine-style mating - short strokes delivered with incredible speed thanks to the anchoring effect of the knot. Driven by the werewolf's vast musculature, those thrusts poured into her in a constant stream, battering her insides even as they strained her sphincter.

This furious fucking literally shook her body, tugging her back and forth, while powerful vibrations spread through her entire groin - caressing parts of her anatomy that she hadn't realized even existed, much less were potential sources of pleasure. The already-diminished pain rapidly faded, and even the constant stretching of her sphincter as it was forced to serve as the back-stop for several thrusts every seconds started to feel good. Her ass was full of hot, hard cock, veiny and throbbing, rubbing the sensitive surface constantly even as the tapered head pushed against the curving intestine at the bottom of her rectum. The pressure was building in her gut again, but it felt different this time... deeper and wilder.

Before she knew it, she was cumming again - her drawn-out moan of ecstasy turned into an unsteady warbling by the constant tremors running through her body. The climax lingered for what seemed like ages, maintained by the continuous pace of the canine pounding she was enduring. Indeed, she was still only just barely beginning to tumble back down from those peaks when it stopped - with a few last, juddering thrusts that buried the hot werewolf-cock as deeply inside of her as it would go, forcing the tip to curve along with her guts. A ringing howl echoed through the woods, victorious and filled with ecstasy, as the werewolf came. Something hot, thin and plentiful poured into the very depths of her ass, spreading a warm sensation deeper inside of her than his cock alone had been able to traverse.

For a while after that, they simply panted together, each recovering from the intensity of this orgasmic crescendo. His knot still bound them together - though, she thought facetiously, at least he hadn't turned around to leave them ass-to-ass as dogs tended to while waiting for the tie to expire. Her whole rectum still tingled, twitching around the hard rod that filled it - clear from the sphincter to the point where his cockhead continued to poke against the curvature of her guts. Certainly, she now saw the appeal in anal sex just fine. In fact... she rather wanted more.

Twisting her rear, she pushed back against him, enjoying the sense of friction. A questioning whine sounded from above, and she glance up at where his long, wolflike muzzle stood silhouetted against the darkening sky. Reaching up, she ran a caressing hand along its underside, prompting a delighted shiver in him - and chuckled. "Well, that was very nice..." she crooned. "And you're still plenty hard, too - so there's no reason to stop just yet, is there? In fact, let's carry on with round three right away..." Considering that he couldn't answer with anything save barks and whines, the question was rather rhetorical - while the suggestion at the end had more of a tone of command than anything.

And so, he began to move again - his thrusts less quick and energetic, but his cock no less hard than before. Moaning quietly, she bowed her head and focused on the pleasure as it began to flow once more, mounting towards her next orgasm. The pain had faded altogether by now, leaving behind only a slight soreness - and with it, another lingering memory from the Ritual had been pushed away. Of course, that also meant that there was no higher reason or cause that she could attribute her decision to carry on to. No, she just wanted sex and the orgasms it brought - simple as that...

Thus, they carried on, late into the night and through several other positions and the occasional shape-shifting - until finally, despite an impressive showing, his virility ran dry. Wet and slimy, his cock hung limp between his legs, twitching occasionally but failing to rise for just one more round. Only then did she relent, settling down for the night and allowing him to do the same. She felt pleasantly fatigued, sore in all the right places, and somewhat_sticky._ An evening well spent, she thought tiredly - and one well worth repeating...

It was a long journey to Solitude indeed, especially when going mostly cross-country and by ill-trafficked back-roads. Placi's tendency to pick up minor side-jobs here and there along the way slowed them down further, of course. But Serana didn't mind, on either count. She fed freely on him - once per day, usually, though never as heavily as that first time - and his blood was as delicious the twentieth time as it had been the first. The self-assured confidence that first feeding had inspired in her lingered as well, be it because it had been part of a permanent epiphany, or just because it was a constantly maintained side-effect of the werewolf-blood she was supping on daily.

The same question could, of course, be asked about her heightened desires, which also failed to recede in the slightest. Whether they shared a campsite in the wilds or a single-bed room in a village inn, half the night tended to pass with vigorous fucking - which, like the first time, tended to be limited chiefly by his endurance and virility. Various... adaptions were soon made to this. For starters, she soon found that there was a lot of pleasure to be gleaned from an agile tongue, especially the long, wide, soft one that waited inside a werewolf's canine muzzle. Placi did not even seem to particularly mind putting it to use right after depositing several loads in her womb, be it in human form or otherwise... though that was far from the only thing about him that made her purse her lips thoughtfully.

Another adaption was the matter of noise. When camping deep in the wilderness, it was no issue. When closer to civilization, it rather was. When spending the night in an inn, it was a serious_issue. In neither case did she particularly care if anyone knew they were having sex - when a man and a woman rented a room with one bed together, that was likely the natural assumption of the innkeeper anyway - but Placi's werewolf nature had to be kept hidden, and she'd grown quite fond... well, _addicted, if she had to be honest - to his huge, knotted cock and his inhumanly powerful arms and haunches. Sure, his human form had its own charms, including being somewhat more flexible in terms of possible positions, but seven times out of ten, the tool that found its way inside her had emerged, bright-red and tapered, from a fuzzy sheath.

Hence, the question became how to prevent the barking, growling, and occasional howling that he was wont to produce during sex, despite his own best efforts. Fortunately, in her centuries of life, Serana had found occasion to pick up a wide variety of practical skills. She'd never been too fond of living like a sheltered and pampered princess in her Father's castle, after all. Thus, after getting Placi to gather some materials for her, she managed to construct an improvised, muzzle-specific gag. Made mostly from ivory and leather, it was a long, almost phallic thing that fit into his elongated snout, filling it and filtering any emerging noise through a series of holes she'd drilled through the length of it - coming out the other end as a whistling wheeze instead of an echoing howl. Several leather straps surrounded his snout when he wore it, keeping it in place and giving it an appearance somewhat like that of a muzzle used to keep an aggressive dog from biting.

She'd expected this to make the gag a hard sell, but surprisingly, Placi seemed to embrace the necessity of it almost immediately. In fact, he seemed even more passionate, even more eager, whenever it was on. Just one more thing that made her go 'Hmmm...' and narrow her eyes. Indeed, a lot of things were starting to fall into place for her as they traveled, got into fights, and frequently fucked. Things she'd previously observed, but not really understood.

Like how some of the 'cattle' that was kept in her Father's castle had seemed so... content with their lot, not showing the hopelessness or beaten-down despair of their fellow walking blood-bags. She recalled her Father lecturing some of his minions on how, though just about any mere mortal could be conditioned to serve as cattle, a smart vampire sought out those who were well-suited for such a life. Those who gravitated naturally towards submission, who sought nothing more than a firm hand to guide their path, who found chains and ropes not restricting but _reassuring._Someone, perhaps, like Placidus Teutonicus who, despite his warrior's skills, seemed far from displeased with her growing willfulness.

That was, after all, the other side of the coin. The very first draught she'd had of his blood had inspired her with an intoxicating self-confidence and certitude. It made her feel like she knew best, like others ought to recognize this and accept her paramount authority. This was the sort of ease of command that a queen or an empress could allow herself - defaulting naturally to orders, not suggestions or requests. She'd seen this kind of thing many, many times before - it was how her fellow Pureblood Vampires tended to act around mortals, and even 'lesser' vampires. She'd never cared much for that sort of attitude... but now, she found herself tending in the same direction.

At first, she struggled against it - reminding herself that however she felt, the fact of the matter was that she relied on Placi for protection, guidance, and even money. She almost literally had nothing save the clothes on her back - and of course, the Elder Scroll that her mother had given her before she was sent into hiding in Dimhollow Crypt. Her only real hold over Placi was that of simple curiosity, and perhaps - by now - that of the casual lover. After all, while she certainly felt like there was more to what they shared than just two almost-human animals rutting together and thus indulging their base urges, they hadn't exactly formalized it as anything else. He was not her boyfriend, her fiancee, or her husband. He had no reason to put up with her if she started making a pest of herself.

However... there were inevitable slips, especially when the taste of his blood was still fresh and tingly on her lips, filling her with desire and confidence. When she snapped orders and commands without a second thought, directing him to serve her pleasure rather than simply sharing in mutual ones. And whenever this happened... he obeyed. Swiftly, eagerly, passionately. Just like the muzzle, her domineering behavior seemed to excite him rather than annoy him. So... why resist? Why not let that natural authority flow freely? And once she'd started doing that, she became more aware of the inherent... appeal of it.

Yes, having his hard cock - or his agile tongue - stimulate one of her primary orifices was pleasurable, on a purely visceral level. It felt good, it gave her orgasms... and him too. But the enjoyment_he_ found in submitting to her wishes was clearly on another level, and gradually, she became aware of another level to her own_desires. A cold, hungry flame inside of her that roared eagerly when he obeyed her commands with a bowed head, when he licked his own cum from her freshly-fucked slit without ever asking for or receiving any kind of oral pleasures in return... and most of all, when she saw the marks that her nails had left on his back or his chest in a moment of passion. Marks that he never complained about and, if anything, seemed to _treasure. It was then that she begun to understand why her Father had a small yet well-equipped torture-room in his private chambers...

There was never any watershed moment, no open statement of their relationship moving into a new phase. He did not bow to her and swear allegiance one day, nor did she demand so. Instead, she merely... escalated things, slowly but steadily, ready to back off the moment he said no, protested, objected, or even just started seeming sad or discontent. None of those things ever happened, however. Not when she bought a riding-crop for use in keeping him in line, not when she started referring to him as her 'pet' whenever they were alone, nor even when she strapped the collar onto his neck. The collar was one she'd bought - a nice, spiky affair, suitable for a big, ferocious dog - but she'd enchanted it herself, a skill she was no slouch at. It had not a grand or dramatic effect, per se, but she'd managed to make it able to grow or shrink as he shifted from human to werewolf form, as well as excluding it from whatever strange displacement the Ring of Hircine performed on the rest of his gear. He was literally shaking with gratitude when she locked it in place, breathing heavily as she whispered in his ear that she held the only key to it... and that, really, was when she knew that he wasn't ever going to tell her 'no'.

It wasn't long after this point that she first explored a new way to_exercise_ the power he had so freely given her. The idea came natural enough - there were few things she enjoyed more than feeling his thick cock in her ass, after all. Be it straightforwards and human, or knotted and canine - the pleasure surged up her spine all the same. Perhaps he could find similar enjoyment in such acts? What she hadn't expected was how satisfying she herself would find this amusement - indeed, the pleasure she took in it struck her as somewhat paradoxical.

After all, hardly a night passed by when she didn't welcome him into her ass, usually in his bulky werewolf-form and with many orgasms as a result... and there was never any suggestion, in her own mind nor in his, from what she could tell, that she was in any way taking up a submissive position in doing this. Sure, their most frequently-used position put her physically below his powerful, grey-furred body - but that never changed the fact that he was on top of her not just on her invitation but on her orders, and trying desperately to please her while he was there.

And yet, in spite of all that, she found herself biting her lip with delight the first time she, in turn, mounted him. She preferred to do it with him in werewolf-form, where the size and strength of his lupine body would emphasize his willing submission. There was an explicit surrender in it, when he bent over and lifted his tail, knowing full well what she intended to do - and that sense of exercising power over him fueled that cold fire inside of her that so eagerly fed on a less visceral, more _cerebral_sort of pleasure.

That first time, the tool used was a simple construction made from leather straps and a carved horker-tusk that they'd chanced upon during an investigation Placi had taken on. Serana had collected it, possibilities coalescing in her mind, and tested it that very night in the inn. Muzzle-gag in place and collar on his neck, he'd bent over for her while she lubricated the ivory tool in her own sobbing-wet pussy, before introducing it to his puckered little asshole, hiding between muscular, fur-covered buttocks. The feeling of his tail shivering against her chest and the cute, yipping sound that whistled from the gag as she rammed him both delighted her, and she knew right away that this wouldn't be a one-time thing.

She also knew that the primitive strap-on tool wasn't going to be sufficient for her needs - but it didn't take long before she'd come up with a suitable replacement. One of her specialties, after all, was ice-based magic - a field she could wield rather freely, since her Vampiric nature rendered her essentially immune to it. As such, with a bit of focus and practice, she was able to create an 'icicle' that extended out from her groin in a roughly phallic shape - a shape, specifically, that she could alter and manipulate with her mind alone. Length, girth, texture and much more could be altered to suit her needs...

The horker-tusk had been relatively thin, even at its base - at least compared to the thick rod that he himself commanded. With her icy tool, however, his asshole was soon introduced to a long, smooth, slick column that equaled or exceeded his own rod in every dimension - even as its fierce coldness made him acutely aware of every inch of both length and circumference. That, however, was just the beginning. Rounded bumps or blunt spikes could spring from the entire length of the shaft whenever she desired, adding even more stimulation to the scene as she fucked him with all of her vampiric strength, eager to hear more of those delightful yips it produced. Or, if she felt he needed... correction, she could surround the base of this shaft with a circle of upturned icicle-spikes that were far from blunt - driving them into his delicate sphincter with every thrust, covering it in tiny, bleeding puncture-wounds.

After all, she had by then started thinking of - and indeed, referring to him as - her pet, rather than a traveling-companion or hireling. And pets needed to be occasionally corrected if you wanted them properly trained, no? Certainly_, he_ seemed on board with this notion, readily accepting her 'discipline', in all the many forms it might take. She found many uses for her abilities in this - both those that came from her studies of magic, and those that were part of her bloodline, the 'gifts' she had received as a Daughter of Coldharbor. In fact, aspects of her vampiric powers that she'd previously struggled to express or control, now seemed to come so easily to her that re-tuning them into tools of discipline and punishment felt simple and straightforward. Either it was just thanks to the confidence she'd gained, or perhaps overcoming the mental block that the humiliating Ritual that granted her those powers had left her with?

The so-called 'Corpse-Curse' was handy in its regular form, of course - a potent paralysis-spell that left its mark locked in a simile of Rigor Mortis, stiff as a board... including, as it turned out, the target's cock. Whether riding him like that to drive home his helplessness, or applying various light punishments as he lay paralyzed, it seemed to excite him by the same token as the muzzle-gag did. Though still, its effects were not nearly so pronounced as those from the other primary gift of her kind - the Vampiric Grip.

By directly controlling the blood within a target, it let her lift a target into the air, drawing them close even as this 'grip' caused their throat to constrict, slowly choking them. A handy 'leash' for dragging her shame-faced 'puppy' up close as she explained exactly why he was being punished, and what that punishment would consist of... all while his cock hardened and throbbed before her, seemingly motivated as much by the firm, telekinetic grip on his throat as the promise of penalties to come. After a bit of experimentation, she managed to separate this effect from the general, body-manipulating part, giving her access to a 'choke-collar' she could apply to him at will... a tangible reminder of her power over him, which seemed to arouse him on several different levels all at once.

Of course, Destruction-magic also proved handy for more than just summon an icy strap-on. She'd never been good with fire-type magic, due to the inherent weakness that her vampiric nature gave her to that element, but she wielded both Ice and Lightning with great skill - so attuning some of the lower-tier spells of those types to merely cause pain rather than any real injury was relatively easy. Especially lightning - simply dialing down the 'Sparks' spell a couple of notches resulted in a reliable way to make her darling puppy writhe in pain, especially when the steady stream of crackling pain was applied to somewhere suitably sensitive. Once she discovered that by letting the hissing fingers of this pain-inducing spell march across his balls and shaft while she buggered him from behind, she could force him to cum without ever directly touching his cock, this soon stopped being a punishment and became simply a regular part of their nightly entertainment...

And then there were the Summons... she'd learned basic Conjuring on her way to mastering the ways of Necromancy - a study that her Father had insisted on - and initially, the utility of those basic spells hadn't quite clicked for her. Then one night, camping well away from civilization, she watched Placi burrow his werewolf-snout between her thighs as she leaned back on her bedroll, enjoying the feeling of his broad, soft, and increasingly well-trained tongue exploring her freshly-fucked pussy. His hindquarters were in the air behind him as he prostrated himself before her like an altar, tail waving above it, and she found herself wishing that she could be in two places at once, so that she could make use of that inviting, fuzzy ass _and_the delightful tongue at the same time.

That was when it hit her - the simple 'Conjure Familiar' spell she'd learned ages ago. The Spectral Wolf it summoned was, despite its appearance, perfectly solid - and existed only as an extension of the summoner's will. Of course, just like her arsenal of Destruction-spells, it was meant purely for combat... but in that moment, with her confidence soaring on the back of a recent draught of werewolf-blood, it seemed like repurposing it wouldn't be difficult at all. A few twists of her fingers later, there was a droning sound and a flash of purple energy as a large Spectral Wolf came into existence behind Placi. He barely twitched at the sound - clearly aware that she'd just done something, but trusting her too much to be concerned by it. He simply carried on with his assigned task, licking her steadily towards an orgasm...

Her alterations, fortunately, had stuck - this particular Spectral Wolf, unlike most of its kin, had a fully-functional Spectral Doggy-Cock swinging beneath its spectral haunches. Controlled as it was by her mind - which was currently soaked in lust and pleasure - it also had little trouble accepting orders other than 'attack'. Placi stiffened between her legs as he felt the wolf's paws - solid and weighty despite the beast's spectral appearance - land on his back, but she quickly reached down to place a placating hand on his forehead, stroking it. "So nice to see all my pets getting along..." she crooned, and watched with delight as his large, muscular body relaxed and his legs spread slightly, lowering his hindquarters and thus making himself more readily accessible to the large wolf.

Controlled by her will, the spectral wolf rode him mercilessly - giving him his first taste of what it meant to be knotted and tied. For better or worse, however, the Familiar was more spirit than flesh, and while she'd managed to give it some decidedly biological_equipment_, it wasn't fully functional. In other words, the wolf couldn't cum. On the bright side, it was literally tireless. Combined, this meant that her Familiar simply pounded her pet werewolf's ass continuously, without pause or hesitation, for the entire duration of its existence. Indeed, there was no real way for it to end other than the spell running its course and the spectral beast disappearing back into the aether - without an ability to find release, there was nothing to make the wolf's knot deflate and thus enable it to pull out again.

As he submitted to this spectral ass-reaming, Placi's tongue never stopped moving - and the combined oral and visual_stimulation helped Serana reach a couple of lovely, drawn-out orgasms. Better yet, _his cock - which had, by then, retreated into the werewolf's sheath, exhausted and worn out - emerged and slowly hardened once more as the furious buggering continued... providing her with the final ride of the night once the Spectral Wolf had finally vanished, leaving behind only cold traces of ectoplasm. Needless to say, after such a success, it would be far from the last time she put her skill at Conjuring to use in this fashion - indeed, it was not long after this point that she found an application of her strongest spells from that particular school, and solved an enduring problem in the process.

Even before she had first collared him, she'd occasionally indulged in a bit of punishment for her pet werewolf - usually all in play, and applying either low-key Destruction-spells, a riding-crop, or just her nails... generally penalizing Placi for sins such as failing to suitably satisfy her, or acting in some way 'disrespectful' towards her while they were in mixed company and thus keeping up the illusion of being just a pair of travelers on the road. However, there was one failing that, despite his best efforts, Placi occasionally found himself guilty of - one that was a bit too serious to be handled in this relaxed fashion.

Their journey, after all, took them through a fair few dangers - particularly when they detoured to some ruin or tomb for a side-job or two. For the most part, their default strategy worked well enough for dealing with the enemies they encountered - Placidus ranging out in front, sword and shield in hand, drawing the attention of their foes with shouts and shows of martial prowess. Meanwhile, she hung back, sniping strategically-picked enemies with icy spikes and bolts of lightning, disabling major attackers with the Corpse-Curse so that Placi could dice them, and otherwise playing support while staying out of trouble. But, this approach was hardly absolute, and occasionally they encountered foes smart or lucky enough to, like the Frost Troll they'd encountered shortly after meeting in Dinhollow Crypt, get past him and take a swipe at her.

Fortunately, she wasn't a freshly-awakened, half-starved fledgeling anymore. Her powers had returned in full and then some, thanks to her steady diet of werewolf-blood - so she could generally avoid taking more than glancing hits, and with her Life Drain ability, could often heal her own wounds by stealing the vitality of whoever just attacked her. This, however, did not stop Placi from freaking out every time it happened. Regardless of circumstances, it always made him go werewolf on the spot, usually ripping through whatever enemies remaining before throwing himself whining and sniffling at her feet, clearly wrought with guilt that he'd let his dear Mistress get hurt.

She knew, instinctively, that simply telling him that she was fine, it had barely been a scratch and she'd already healed back up again anyway, just wasn't the right way to go about it. Clearly, he saw any injury she suffered, no matter how minor, as a personal failing - so really, the fact that it wasn't a serious wound didn't actually matter. No, what mattered was giving him a way to rid himself of that guilt - a suitable punishment, a penance, that could leave him feeling cleansed and forgiven in the aftermath.

The obvious solution was pain for pain - a bit of simple, corporal punishment should do it, right? But, while she did experiment with it the first couple of times this happened - tanning his ass with the riding-crop until he couldn't sit comfortably for the next three days, or holding his tender ballsack in a grip of crackling thunder while slowly working his shaft until he came with a pained scream - it clearly wasn't ideal. For it to be a suitable sort of punishment for such 'serious' errors, it had to be of that sort of magnitude - serious pain. And while she'd concluded that a bit of pain only heightened his enjoyment of other stimulations, that sort of outright torture clearly wasn't anything but torture for him. The fact that he suffered them gladly anyway, just to secure her forgiveness, only made her more determined to find another way.

Thus, it was a couple of days after she'd first put her Find Familiar spell to new use that it all came together. They were ambushed on the road that day, by a group of bandits who apparently had a rather depressing level of perception, considering who they'd picked out as a likely target. Fortunately, being a gang of fools, they proved easy to deal with - Placi was tying all their fighters down simultaneously without much effort, systematically dismembering them, and the mere pair of archers they'd originally possessed had already been taken out by carefully-aimed ice-spikes. Un_fortunately, what neither she nor Placi - nor, most likely, their assailants - had realized was that those thugs weren't the _only hungry beasts prowling that particular road in search of prey.

It was as Serana stood there contemplating whether to throw a couple of spells into the melee to speed things along, or simply wait for Placi to finish dealing with the last of the bandits himself - which he appeared perfectly capable of - that she was blindsided. A flash of movement, white against white, appeared in her peripheral vision, giving her lightning-fast vampire reflexes just enough time to leap out of the way of the pouncing Sabre-Cat who'd just gone straight for her neck. Specifically, a snowy Sabre-Cat - the bigger, tougher variant that survived in the frozen, northern reaches of Skyrim, its pelt mottled light gray and white to let it blend into the snowfields with ease.

She'd managed to avoid the initial attack - and a good thing too, considering that it might otherwise have been a mortal blow - but the large feline didn't waste any time following up. A swipe of its claws caught her thigh as she tried to dodge again, drawing several painful rends across her flesh and, as she stumbled, the cat again pounced with a hungry growl. By then, however, she'd managed to regain her mental equilibrium - and luckily enough, she'd been preparing one of her favorite spells for possible Placi-assistance before the big cat appeared. Now, she hurled the Corpse-Curse at the Sabre-Cat just as it started to jump, causing all of its muscles to seize up and leaving it to tumble, stiff as a board, into the dust of the road.

Wasting no time, she directed her Life-Drain at the paralyzed feline, drawing on its vibrant life-force to reinforce her own, and causing the cuts in her thigh to begin healing at an accelerated rate. This was far from the best way to kill something - indeed, there was no way she'd be able to finish off the Sabre-Cat before the paralysis wore off at this rate. But then, she wasn't trying to, since she knew exactly what the cat's growl and the pained gasp that had escaped her own lips when it caught her thigh would've caused to happen. An enraged howl resounded across the ill-trafficked road, followed by the despairing screams of the few surviving bandits as they very rapidly stopped being survivors and instead became an assortment of limbs flying in various directions. Moments later, a very angry werewolf was next to her, bearing a few bleeding cuts courtesy of his reckless attack on the bandits - and just as the Sabre-Cat began to wrench itself out of the Corpse-Curse's paralytic grip, a swipe from the werewolf's powerful paw sent it tumbling across the road, neck snapped. Dead.

With the fight thus ended, Placi threw himself at her feet, whining piteously as always - leaving her to sigh at the preposterousness of the situation. The cut she took across her thigh had already largely healed thanks to the Life-Drain, while he now had a number of bleeding gashes across his torso courtesy of the reckless attack he'd launched on the remaining bandits when he realized what was happening. While his wounds, too, were starting to close - courtesy of his lycanthropic regeneration - he had certainly been more seriously injured than her. Yet now she apparently needed to hurt him worse yet just so he wouldn't feel guilty about his failing?

It was when her eyes fell on the slain Sabre-Cat that lay nearby, its head twisted at an odd angle but otherwise remarkably intact, that she remembered the recent 'entertainment' featuring the summoned Spectral Wolf and was struck by a sudden inspiration. Planting her boot on the werewolf's long snout, pushing it into the dust of the road, she grinned down at him. "That is a good position..." she crooned. "Suitable for a show of contrition. And who better to extract the price for your failure than the one who bested you, hmm?"

Lifting a hand, she gathered dark powers in it, drawing on her well-developed skills at Necromancy. Shadows gathered around the fallen Sabre-Cat, pouring into the empty vessel, animating it... leaving the fallen beast to stagger to its paws seconds later with a hollow growl. Its broken neck snapped back into place with an unpleasant bone-grinding-on-bone sound, and as it stepped towards the two of them, it looked no different than when it had been alive - save for the purplish glow that lingered in its eyes.

Of course, 'it' was a bit mean. As Serana had noticed when she hit the Sabre-Cat with the paralyzing Corpse-Curse earlier, 'it' was indeed a_he_ - though the sheer size of the beast could have told as much regardless. Normally, he would now have fallen in behind her, ready to follow her around and fight her foes - but just as with the summoned Familiar earlier, it wasn't too hard to pour her own desires into this empty vessel, giving it a different task. She glanced underneath the Sabre-Cat's belly as he positioned himself beside her, nodding eagerly at what she saw. No knot there, just a nice, thick rod... with a crown of thorns at its tip. Tiny barbs of bone lined the feline's cockhead, promising a painful ride indeed - perfect!

Placi shuddered slightly underneath her foot as his eyes, too, caught sight of what he was in for. Smiling, Serana ground her heel into his forehead a bit harder. "Well?" She demanded. "Give him the final pleasure he earned when he bested you, touching that which you are charged to protect. I suggest you start by using your tongue - unless you'd prefer having him enter you dry and raw." Then she stepped off his head, gesturing towards the Sabre-Cat as she got out of the way.

She watched with increasing arousal as, obedient to her words, he crawled over to the reanimated beast, stuck his head under its flanks, and began to lick the rock-hard, fully-unsheathed tool. The scent of male musk and sweat wafted from it, strong enough that even Serana could easily smell it - it would be far more overpowering for a werewolf's sensitive nose, positioned right next to it. No doubt, the_taste_ was just as potent... and that, really, was the main shortfall of the Spectral Wolf summoned by her Conjure Familiar spell. While certainly solid, it was ultimately just a manifest spirit, and thus lacked all the... viscerality of a living thing. Technically, of course, this particular Sabre-Cat wasn't really alive anymore, but considering that it had perished little more than a minute ago, the difference was fairly academic to anyone save perhaps the Sabre-Cat himself.

Soon, the feline tool was dripping with thick, canine drool - thoroughly lubricated and ready for use. Pulling his head back, Placi - still on all fours - turned around and presented his rear to the big cat, lowering his hips and raising his tail, just as he did when Serana brought out the icy strap-on. A piteous whine escaped his lips as the Sabre-Cat, obedient to her mental commands, turned around and put a possessive paw on his hindquarters, but as his eyes strayed to his mistress, they widened in surprise. Clearly, he could see her arousal - not that she was trying to hide it. Nevermind her flushed cheeks and wide eyes, her hand had somehow found its way down the front of her trousers, where it was now rubbing her wet pussy as she licked her lips eagerly.

This display of humiliation and obedience was feeding the colder, more_cerebral_ desires that had grown inside of her of late - and it only got better as the Sabre-Cat leaped onto her loyal pet's back. Instead of tensing up as the feline's spiked tool probed for his anus with experimental jabs, he seemed to relax, his eyes still glued to her. Only a slight, pained 'Yip!' escaped his lips as the cat's claws dug into his shoulders - and its cock dug into his ass. Lubricated by his own saliva and driven by the appetites of its creator, the revived Sabre-Cat held nothing back as it began to ream the werewolf's rectum, likely pounding him harder than it would've been inclined to while alive - indeed, considering the way Serana's necromantic prowess had filled it with an unholy strength and vitality, the Sabre-Cat was going at it harder, faster and longer than it would've been able to before.

Stepping up closer, Serana continued to rub herself as she watched intently, noting in particular the little twitches Placi made every time the Sabre-Cat pulled out for another thrust, raking its spiny cockhead across his sensitive insides. The sight of the canine cock that now grew between his legs, emerging from its sheath and hardening in the cool air, was quite amusing too - was he finding pleasure in the harsh anal pounding itself, or merely in the knowledge that _she_was watching and enjoying his plight? Perhaps a bit of both...

Animated though it was, the Sabre-Cat's white-furred ballsack continued to function readily enough, blasting a load of still-warm feline cum into Placi's rectum after a few minutes of furious fucking - though at this point, the fact that it was purely a puppet of Serana's will ensured that it continued the anal assault without a moment's rest or the slightest slowdown. A slimy sound could be heard as the spiny cock stirred the newly-deposited load, adding an auditory dimension to the depraved sight.

Sensing that the reanimation-spell wouldn't last much longer, Serana squatted beside the energetically-mating pair, getting an even better look at the action. With one hand still busy between her legs - multiple fingers buried deep in her pussy at this point, rubbing and thrusting - she gathered lightning in her free hand and reached out to let the sparks play lightly over the dangling, canine cock that was so vigorously swinging between Placi's legs, propelled by the Sabre-Cat's powerful thrusts. The already-panting werewolf gasped as the painful stimulation arched across his balls, knot, shaft and even the tapered cockhead - the intensity carefully controlled, refined by Serana's previous experiments in this regard.

With a hoarse, breathless howl, Placi came - cum spraying from his untouched cock to produce a wet stain on the road... proof of his a humiliating, forced orgasm. Nodding in satisfaction, Serana withdrew her lightning-wreathed hand and called off the Sabre-Cat, which promptly pulled out. Its cock sparkled with cum, slime and blood for a few moments - then the entire creature collapsed into a pile of ashes, its body consumed by the necromantic energies that had so briefly inhabited it. "There... your penalty has been paid in full." Serana declared with satisfaction as she somewhat reluctantly pulled her hand out of her pants. She hadn't managed to reach an orgasm - but then, with Placi always around and so eager to please, masturbation wasn't really an art she'd had a chance to practice extensively.

He winced as he got to his feet - or paws, rather, seeing as he was still in his werewolf-form - no doubt, his rear still ached, and would continue to do so for a while. The guilt, however, was gone from his eyes, and he eagerly licked her wet fingers when she smilingly offered them to him. Later, when they camped for the night a ways further down the road, he mated with her as eagerly and passionately as ever, with suitably ecstatic results for Serana - and no sign that his earlier 'failing' still weighed on him, nor that the punishment had been more than he could handle. This, she decided, was the way to go for any future such incidents... perhaps with a few additional refinements?

There wasn't much time to develop that idea further, however. Long though the journey had been, an end to it was in sight as they passed by Solitude and made for the nearby pier where she remembered a boat ferrying her to and from her Father's castle in the past. A part of her regretted the imminent end of her travels with Placi... but another, far larger, part felt confident that the journey wasn't anywhere near over. She wasn't just going to walk through the gates of Castle Volkihar, say hi to her parents, and then everything would go back to the way they'd been before. No, this had just been the_first_ leg of her travels - and there was no doubt that her darling pet would happily follow her every step of the way.

Thus, as they disembarked the small boat that had carried them there and approached the Gargoyle-lined bridge that led to the impressive, gormenghastian edifice of Castle Volkihar, Serana turned to Placi with narrowed eyes. "My Father will be waiting inside... along with his 'court'. I can already smell them." She declared. "You'll want to keep a low profile. 'Daddy' has never been fond of werewolves. Just... let me do the talking, and stand where I tell you to stand. We'll be out of there again before long, I suspect." He nodded eagerly, and she saw a certain relief spread across his face, as if a carefully-hidden tension had leached out of it. They hadn't really discussed what came next, once they'd reached their goal, but it was clear that he didn't want to be parted from her. His mouth opened hesitantly, and she waited with a raised eyebrow as he took a deep breath. Finally, he spoke. "Yes, My Lady. I will go wherever you tell me to."

She could not help but smile. Their relationship had grown organically, like a living thing - starting from that first, passionate night together, and developing in a steadily more skewered and depraved direction day by day. But neither of them had ever really verbalized_it - until now. It helped that most of it had taken place while he was in werewolf-form, and thus unable to communicate in anything more specific than barks and howls. Somehow, it was a relief to hear him put words to it at last... even if, she felt, they weren't _quite_the _right words. Letting her smile broaden, she stepped up closer, grabbed his beard, and pulled him up close so that she could look him directly in the eye. "That's 'Mistress' to you..." she whispered. He swallowed, and nodded as much as her grip would allow. "Yes, Mistress." he whispered back, pupils growing - along with, no doubt, the bulge in his leather trousers. Grinning, she leaned in to plant a quick kiss on his lips, before parting with a final, whispered, "Good boy..."

Inside the castle, things went about as she had expected. Vingalmo, at the door, recognized her immediately, and soon the whole court - which she'd apparently interrupted in the middle of dinner - was in a tizzy. Her Father, rising from his seat, called out to her, a dreadful eagerness in his eyes. "My long-lost daughter returns at last! I trust you have my Elder Scroll?" In that moment, the suspicion that had been growing inside of her during the trip crystallized - but she hid it behind a carefully-prepared mask, couching her face in an expression of slight annoyance. "After all these years, that's the first thing you ask me? Yes, I have the scroll." Her reply was clipped, but the expression on his face spoke volumes, and the tittering of the rest of the court as they leaned forwards eagerly only served to make it clear that her father's obsession with 'The Prophecy' had not diminished in the slightest.

She affected boredom as her father exclaimed that of course he was delighted to see her, before getting sidetracked into a rant about her mother, and finally noticing Placi - who had been staying silently a step behind her and to the side, eyes darting around at the many vampires who surrounded them... his werewolf instincts no doubt raising their hackles at the dangerous situation. "Now tell me, who is this stranger you have brought into our hall?" Her father, Harkon, asked pleasantly, and she shrugged. "Hired muscle. I was weakened after awakening from my long confinement, and required an escort to get here safely. He has proven... useful. I think I might keep him..."

Placi, of course, said nothing - merely standing there as the eyes of the court rested on him, keeping his eyes downcast and his hands well away from his weapons. Harkon, too, regarded him with some suspicion, before snorting. "Hrm. We may have to discuss that in private, my daughter. Now... my Elder Scroll, if you please." He held out his hand, and she pulled out the scroll - big and heavy as it was, she had carried it far. Instead of handing it over, however, she rested it on her shoulder and smiled at him. "Certainly, father... after that private chat you just mentioned. I do so_long to catch up with all that has transpired during my absence, and I would certainly hate to imagine that it actually _is only the scroll you have so longed to welcome again..."

Harkon glared at her, then smiled narrowly. "You grow willful, my dear... but, as you wish. There is no need for our reunion to continue interrupting everybody's meal, hmm?" he looked around at the rest of his court. "By all means, carry on - I shall rejoin you soon enough." Obediently, the rest of the vampires bent again over their gory meals, though their sharp, predatory eyes followed the three of them as they left the grand hall, and climbed the stairs to Harkon's private chambers. "Guard the door. Ensure nobody eavesdrops." Serana snapped at Placi as they approached them. He jumped to attention with a snappy "Yes, Mistress!" and positioned himself beside the gate as she entered it along with her father.

There was a look of surprise and vague respect in his eyes as the door closed behind him. "I see you have your pet well-heeled..." he commented, prompting her to shrug. "I had enough time to work on him on the way... it was a long journey." Harkon nodded slowly. "Long indeed... though, let me just ask, have you fed on him along the way?" A casual sort of question, in a casual sort of tone, but alarm-bells were going off in her head. "Of course not!" She immediately responded with a dismissive snort. "He's_useful_, to be sure, but he smells like a wet dog even when he's in his human form. I'd just as soon feed on a troll!"

A few near-imperceptible wrinkles beside her father's eyes disappeared as he relaxed ever-so-slightly, confirming her suspicion on that count. "Good, good... you'll want to stick to that." He warned her. "I have read accounts suggesting that the blood of a werewolf can have a... detrimental effect on a true-blooded vampire like yourself. Mixing the essence of Molag Bal with that of Hircine can lead to serious complications." She nodded, face artfully grave. Detrimental? Complications? Such as finding new joy in life, achieving greater self-confidence, shedding old trauma, and finding the clarity to realize that your own father considered you nothing more than a pawn to be used or discarded as necessary? Probably mostly that last one, she figured.

"Now then..." he continued, putting on the ghastly simulacrum of a paternal smile. "What was it you wished to discuss with me, my dearest daughter?" Serana smiled and nodded. "Serious matters, father. On my trip, I heard news that a group of dedicated vampire-hunters have arisen here in Skyrim, calling themselves the Dawnguard - no doubt in response to your presence and activities here." Harkon grimaced, scowling dismissively. "Feh. The cattle think they have horns, do they? As if they could be a true threat. We have already dealt with the so-called 'Vigilants'..."

Sighing, Serana shook her head. "I know. And that is exactly the action that prompted the Dawnguard to form. They're rapidly gaining support, gathering men and weapons. I have it on good authority that they're delving into the old Dwemer technology of crossbow-crafting, and that the new Harbinger of the Companions have joined their ranks. Do not let yourself grow arrogant, father. We are powerful - but we are not immortal. And when - when, not if - they attack us, they will do so with the sun as their ally."

Now that she thought about it, she reflected, the confidence that she had gleaned from Placi's blood probably counted as a 'detrimental effect' in her father's eyes too. After all, there was no way she'd have been able to lie so barefacedly to him before. She would have been too nervous, too scared of him - and he would have sensed it. Now, though, she spoke with complete confidence and surety, aided by the fact that everything she'd just said was_technically_ true - like all the best lies tended to be. She was about to step beyond that territory, however, as Harkon nodded slowly, eyes narrowing. "I see... valuable information, my daughter..." he said, voice grave. "And how do you think we should respond to this threat, then?"

She sighed, deliberately looking away and letting her mouth tighten, showing him the signs of reluctant admission he no doubt expected_to see. "Isn't it obvious?" She asked rhetorically. "The mortals will never leave us be. I realize that now. If it hadn't been the destruction of the Hall of Vigilants setting them off, it would've been something else." She shook her head. "I used to think your... _interest in that Prophecy, the Tyranny of the Sun, was overzealous, more likely to provoke a war than anything else. But I get it now, father. We are already at war, whether we like it or not - and if we can rob our enemies of their strongest ally, that is exactly what we should do."

Finally, she reached out, handing him the Elder Scroll she had been carrying for so long. He took it, nodding gently, another misshapen attempt at a fatherly smile on his lips. "I am delighted that you have come around so well, my daughter!" He gushed. "Perhaps a chance to see the world that the cattle live in was just the thing you needed! Ah, if only your accursed mother was here to see this..." he went off on this usual tangent for a few seconds while she pretended to pay attention. Once she could get a word in edgewise, she reached out to him. "You've got the Elder Scroll back, father, but I know it doesn't end there..." she declared. "Let me help you with the rest! I've already traveled across the length of Skyrim once to get here, so I know the present conditions of the land better than most of your court. My new pet will come in handy as well - his fangs and his nose alike are keen and ready to serve our great purpose."

He accepted. Of course he did. Indeed, he could not entirely hide his glee when he agreed to let her be of assistance as he finally put his long-held plan into action. There was more talking after that - both privately and out in the Great Hall as he made a grand declaration to the whole court - but she wasn't really paying attention any more. She was certain, now - the danger that her mother had sought to hide her from had been him. Her father. Some part of his plan, of this Prophecy that would supposedly darken the sun and usher in an age of vampires, would be of harm to her. Probably the death of her.

But she wasn't going to let on that she'd figured that out, oh no. What would that accomplish? So she'd play along, and let him think that she was blindly assisting in her own demise. She'd gather information, resources, and allies in the meantime - and when the time was right, he'd learn first hand what it felt like to be backstabbed by your own family. Yes... she could do it. She could overcome her terrifying, insidious, monstrous father - not alone, perhaps, but with a single truly-devoted man by her side? She could, and would, do it.

And so, after spending a few short hours reacquainting herself with Castle Volkihar and its residents, cautiously sounding out how loyal,exactly, they were to her father, she left the place again. The results of her carefully-chosen questions and veiled implications were optimistic, if not exactly surprising - none of them were actually loyal per se, they simply followed him because he had_power_. In other words, if someone were to remove him - someone of similarly noble blood, perhaps - they'd almost certainly swap their dubious allegiance to that person without hesitation.

For now, however, it was time to simply perform the errands her_benevolent_ father handed down to her, like a good, obedient little puppet. First filling the Bloodstone Chalice at Redwater Spring, which honestly was little more than busywork meant to give Harkon enough time to put the next step into action - luring a Moth-Priest to Skyrim. That particular, monastic order was dedicated to the reading and interpretation of the Elder Scrolls, and would be needed to do just that to the scroll that Serana had just returned. Then it was out looking for him... along with the entire rest of the court, ensuring that their clumsiness soon tipped off the Dawnguard to the vampire's interest in said Moth-Priest. Enough said, retrieving him proved to involve a fairly decent scuffle with Placi's former comrades.

While traveling back and forth across Skyrim on these errands, Serana and Placi gleefully continued to carry on - and, indeed, deepen and develop - their by now openly-established relationship. She was the Mistress, he was the pet, and both of them found these roles increasingly natural. She still fed on him regularly, of course - every day, as had become her habit, always making sure not to drink so deeply that it would weaken or tire him. The fact that her father had specifically told her not to had somehow given it an extra allure, not that any more was needed - there was a uniquely intimate pleasure in it, she found. The sensation of her fangs sinking into the subtle flesh of his throat, the flow of warm blood as she drank from him... was it similar, perhaps, to the pleasure he_felt when he sank his cock into _her body, and let his hot cum flow through it? Certainly, they still mated frequently - at least two or three times for every rest-stop or camp they made - but just like they discovered new intimacy and closeness in the act of feeding, they also both started to find greater and greater pleasure in the exercise of domination and submission in and of itself.

As part of that, the earlier-established rule that anyone who managed to harm Serana - however lightly - would be subsequently reanimated and given a post-mortem chance to pound and humiliate the penitent werewolf, was thoroughly codified and steadily expanded in scope. It started with Serana crafting a thick plug from smooth, cool metal, patterned after Placi's own knot - as it appeared when deflated, in his werewolf form - and enchanted it using the same makeshift spell she'd come up with for his collar, enabling it to ignore the effects of the Ring of Hircine. Using this, Placi's tailhole would be plugged as soon as the reanimated foe - or foes - had finished their business, sealing the resulting load inside as they continued on their path. The plug would then be removed the next time they made camp - though usually not until Placi had produced an orgasm or two for her, fucking her passionately despite his plugged, cum-filled ass.

The next step came when it occurred to Serana that with a greater quantity filling his guts, the sensation thereof - and thus the humiliation - would also be greater. Specifically, she came to this realization after a band of Foresworn ambushed them as they passed near the territory of Markarth - with all of them having, by some instinct, pegged her as the primary threat, presumably having guessed that she was a mage of some description. More than a dozen arrows suddenly sprouted from her chest and limbs, all at once, as they launched their initial attack...

Even with her vampiric resilience, that was enough to leave her staggered and winded, splitting her attention between ripping out the arrows and blasting any Foresworn she could see with ice, lightning, or - if one drew close enough - the Life-Drain spell that would help her begin to recover. Of course, Placi did most of the work as usual - shifting instantly and running rampant through the attacking force, sending foes flying left and right. By the time the dust cleared, she found herself needing a bit of a pick-me-up - the dozen arrow-wounds were slowly healing, and with a mouthful of fresh werewolf-blood straight from the tap, that process was greatly accelerated.

Then, of course, it was time for Placi's penalty. Fortunately, by then, the regular practice had helped to focus and reinforce her already-prodigious talent for Necromancy, letting her maintain freshly-revived foes near indefinitely if she wished to... or else spread her power thinner, raising large numbers of the undead for a much shorter time. In this case, there was no real way to tell exactly which of the slain Foresworn had put arrows in her during the ambush, but after discarding any female corpses and those too torn-up by the earlier werewolf-attack to be revived, she was left with a baker's dozen fur-clad wildmen, which was close enough for this purpose.

It was a joy to watch this band of dirty barbarians gather around Placi as he knelt with his head bowed, ready to pay the price for his failing - all absently rubbing their erections, made rock-hard by her will. After the first one had gotten his unwashed cock licked clean and lubricated, they took him from both ends simultaneously - with one fiercely ramming the werewolf's asshole, while the other fearlessly thrust his shaft into the wolf's fang-filled maw for a preparatory licking. As each took his turn at the rear, the slimy, sloshing sound that the ass-reaming produced grew more distinct - and more arousing to Serana's sharp ears.

By the time half the band had taken their turn, Placi's worn and gaping sphincter dripped cum every time one of them pulled out, bespeaking the quantity stored within - reminding Serana of the pleasure _she_derived from the sensation of hot, slimy fullness that Placi so often provided her with during their nightly rutting, especially when going multiple rounds without allowing his sealing knot to deflate. How would such a sensation mix with the humiliation of this penance? Either way, more was most definitely better - and it was only the matter of a thought to make her decision immediately and silently known to the magically-controlled Foresworn.

As the next of the tireless wildmen blew his load, thus, he hesitated - his dim, freshly-reactivated mind wrestling briefly with the new orders it had received, before responding and emptying his bladder the same way he'd just emptied his balls. The slimy sound of the unfolding group effort grew more wet and sloshy after that - and of course, the rest of the dozen-strong band followed suit as well, filling Placi's intestines with liquid humiliation as he whined pathetically around the cock he was currently licking and sucking in preparation for his next violation.

Once the last of the thirteen Foresworn had taken up position behind the submissive werewolf, fucking him just as violently as the twelve who had gone before, his head was left at last unattended - until, that is, Serana herself stepped up to it, her hand buried in her trousers as usual and pushed it down. Responding readily to her touch, his head was soon in the dust, her boot on his forehead, holding him down - while the Foresworn barbarian simply adapted to the changing angle of his rear, leaning forwards to fuck him in a more vertical fashion.

Finally, this last member of the revived band finished - unleashing a torrent of cum, followed by a hissing flow of piss, into Placi's already-filled guts. As he began to pull out, however, Serana looked around at the merry band she'd reanimated - still milling about, likely to endure but for another half-minute at most. "You're not done yet, my pet..." she purred, glancing down at the werewolf resting so obediently under her foot. "Use those big claws of yours - pull open your ass nice and wide." With a muffled whine, he complied - his long, powerful arms easily reaching up to his rear and digging into his furry buttocks, pulling them apart. His sphincter followed - already thoroughly loosened by the lengthy reaming it had endured.

The first six of the Foresworn band stepped up, then - the ones who still had full bladders. Their cocks remained rock-hard, of course, since their erections were there on her orders, not due to any transient arousal, and their fists were tight around them now. Standing in a tight half-circle, they began to pee in unison, each employing the careful aim of a master archer as the high-pressure jet of golden fluid flowed from them - pouring into the hole that Placi was so gallantly holding open for them, with a loud, hissing noise and a distinct splashing.

The streams died out one by one, with the last one - belonging to a fellow who must've been busting for a piss by the time the ambush started - being ultimately interrupted when the entire band collapsed into little piles of vaguely purplish dust with a slight groan. At this point, Serana quickly stepped around the bent-over werewolf and slammed the metallic plug - which she'd been juggling in her hands until then, waiting for the right moment - into place without mercy. Mind, little force was actually needed - the smooth metal slid inside easily, stretched open as the hole was, with the sphincter only really closing around its thinner base once she ordered Placi to release the tight hold he'd maintained on his buttocks.

Better yet, when Placi subsequently shifted back to his human form, his shrinking physique effectively sealed the plug in place, even as his trousers covered it from sight - ensuring that not a drop escaped even once he was on his feet again. A slight bulge on his abdomen demonstrated how uncomfortably distended his guts were, filled with the combined contents of thirteen men's balls and bladders. His gait was distinctly wobbly for the rest of that day's journey, and Serana couldn't resist sneaking up on him a few times along the way - hugging him from behind, nibbling on his neck while she rubbed his bulging belly and pushed her heated groin against his tight buttocks, making him groan quietly.

It was only late that night, after he'd gallantly fucked her to a full trinity of orgasms, that she finally allowed him to slink away from their campsite in his werewolf-form to empty his aching guts - and by then, this new twist had already become enshrined as a regular part of the penance he paid whenever he allowed her to be injured. The incident with the Foresworn was far from the last, after all - the dangers they stuck their noses into only grew as they got deeper into her father's ruthless plot. And along the way, she started to notice a pattern, of sorts, in which kinds of creatures generally wound up taking a swipe at her.

She was pretty certain that Placi didn't deliberately let anything slip by him, honestly, but there definitely were variations in how ardently he sought to prevent something from reaching her. Like that time when they'd stumbled on a giant tending to a pair of mammoths - Placi had wasted no time shifting into his werewolf form, knocking the giant to the ground with a powerful, two-handed swipe to the legs, drawing the attention of the mammoths with an animalistic howl that marked him as a predator to their dim minds, and thus far more dangerous and important than a mere vampire. The whole thing had made her giggle a bit - it wasn't as if she'd_really_ have made him bent over for such massive creatures even if she had gotten hit. But, it certainly showed that there were variations to be found in his dedication as a guardian...

So, what did sometimes slip by his defenses and reach her? Beasts and monsters, mostly. Humans and other intelligent races, not so much. This made some decent, tactical sense, of course - such mindless beings were far less likely to be able to recognize her for what she was and capitalize on her weaknesses, after all, than people_were. But she couldn't help suspecting that there was more to it than that - a _preference of his, expressed more subconsciously than anything else. The fight with the Dawnguard, when they retrieved the Moth-Priest from their care, drove this home quite well.

The battle had been quite chaotic - the Dawnguard clearly had no compunctions about piling on a former member of their order - and they had not been alone. While Placi drew the attention of the dedicated vampire-hunters, Serana had been left to fend off a handful of huskies - clearly trained to sniff out and harry vampires - and, more intimidating, an armored troll. How they'd managed to train such an ornery beast, much less make it willing to carry around the heavy plates of armor now locked around its head, torso and arms, she had no idea - but fortunately, it couldn't resist her Corpse-Curse and wound up sitting out most of the battle.

After all the attackers had been dealt with and she'd used her vampiric powers to twist the mind of the Moth-Priest that was their target, sending him wandering towards Castle Volkihar without complaint, she took stock of events and realized that not even one of the vampire-hunters had managed to hit her with a crossbow-bolt or Sunfire-spell. Instead, she just had several bite-marks on her legs and arms, and a shallow cut along her back where she hadn't _quite_managed to avoid one of the wild swipes of the armored troll's blade-festooned arms.

Most of the beasts were, unsurprisingly, male - no doubt picked out by the Dawnguard for their greater aggressiveness. One of them, however, proved to be a female. Normally, Serana would simply have left that particular dog out of her reanimation-spell, but her growing certainty that there was some kind of preference to blame for which enemies were stopped dead and which had a chance to reach her made her pause. Did Placi have some specific aversion to human - and humanoid - men, or some particular fondness for animals? Well, here was a chance to acquire a bit more information on that count.

Thus, she revived all five huskies - and made it clear to him that he was expected to pleasure all of them as part of his penance. Starting with licking the bitch's canine pussy - which, Serana noted, had an oddly triangular shape - and then mounting her even as the males approached to take their share of the prize. Soon, he was just one fuzzy body among several - having knotted with the bitch underneath him even as one of the males mounted his ass, and another his head. She watched him closely - well, she always did, but this time she wasn't just masturbating while watching his abject surrender. Did he enjoy fucking that husky bitch, or was he simply accepting it as part of his punishment?

It was honestly hard to tell, she had to concede. Certainly, the still-warm canine pussy was doing a fine enough job milking his cock, at least when combined with a succession of knots pushing through his sphincter as he was mounted and pounded by the four other dogs. Four generous loads of canine cum and four bladderfuls of strong canine piss poured into his guts... while a single shipment of hot werewolf-juice filled the bitch's womb. The results, ultimately, were... inconclusive, in Serana's eyes. More experiments would be needed.

Of course, the current session had yet to actually finish. Even as she let the handful of huskies collapse into dust, she focused all of her necromantic power on raising the fallen troll, in all its armored glory, for a longer session. The muscular, ape-like monster turned out to be hiding an impressive tool under his black fur - a warty rod both thicker and longer than any a man could've hoped to wield, crowned by a somewhat misshapen head that featured a bony lower ridge. It looked highly stimulating, not to mention bigger than any icy tool she'd created for the purpose of pegging him - or, for that matter, any beast or man she'd turned loose on her obedient pet so far. Well, the bear had maybe been longer, or at least just_as_ long, but it hadn't possessed such girth, save in its wide, fleshy cockhead.

Placi seemed to agree with her judgment - his eyes were wide and his breath quick as he lavished oral attention on the knobbly shaft, clearly keen to ensure that it was thoroughly coated in slick saliva before moving to his other end. Serana moved in closer for a better look, licking her own lips eagerly, fingers moving swiftly between her legs. Propelled by her lust-laced will, the troll stepped around to the werewolf's rear, positioning itself before Placi's tailhole - still gaping a bit from the four huskies it had just finished entertaining - and leaning over while grappling him with its powerful, clawed hands.

The weight of the armored troll was immense - heavy muscle, strong sinew, thick bones, and bolted-on armor-plates made up its vast mass, and as one hand landed on Placi's head, the huge force of that weight pushed his head and shoulders to the ground without any orders from his Mistress being needed. A muffled, high-pitched howl escaped between his tightly-clenched fangs as the troll thrust into him - without restraint or mercy, using its full, massive weight to slam the long, thick, knobbly rod home in one swift movement.

Trolls, as it turned out, mated just as furiously as they fought. Long, powerful thrusts poured into the kneeling werewolf at a dizzying pace and, as she moved behind the display for a better look, Serana could see that the bony ridge at the bottom of the troll's otherwise-lumpy cockhead served an important purpose - 'catching' the sphincter on the way back, pulling it out a bit to help ensure that it didn't slip out altogether. Not as certain as a knot, probably, but it clearly_did_ enable far longer thrusts... which, by extension, no doubt served to make the wart-like nodules that lined the shaft all the more stimulating.

Of course, considering what had gone before, this rapid pounding also served to stir up the pool of mixed canine cum and piss that had formed in Placi's guts, generating a depraved, sloshing sound. This noise, combined with the scent of male musk and the sight of the troll's dangling ball-sack bouncing against the werewolf's taint, helped to raise Serana's arousal to a fevered pitch as she squatted there behind them, watching her pet submit to this violent ass-reaming on her say-so. Her fingers had grown more apt of late, thanks to similar scenarios playing out whenever she took a glancing blow during battle - leading towards this moment. With three fingers plunging into her heated pussy as she rubbed her clit with her thumb, she reached her first self-induced orgasm... if one could really call it that, considering how much Placi's penitence did to help her get there.

Once the orgasmic tremors had finished rolling through her, she rose with a satisfied sigh, pulling her juicy hand out of her trousers and stepping around the furiously mating pair. Bending down, she offered her dripping-wet fingers to Placi, who promptly opened his muzzle as far as the trolls' powerful grip would allow, reaching out his tongue to lick them clean. Or, more precisely, replace the musky pussy-juice with canine slobber. Wiping this off on his fur, she smiled unpleasantly at him and straightened up again. "Well, don't let me interrupt you two..." she said sweetly. "I'll just take a look around this place while you have your fun.

Usually, she just pushed her reanimated slaves to one orgasm, then let them rest, but she'd gotten better at maintaining them long-term, and her recent orgasm had left her in a languid, relaxed sort of mood. The troll, filled as it was with dark, necromantic energies, was literally tireless - it would not grow exhausted or out of breath, and its cock would remain rock-hard for as long as it remained standing. The only real limited were the balls - with most bodily functions already shut down, they wouldn't be able to keep building up new loads forever, but in such a large body, there were still significant reserves to draw on for that purpose. In other words, the troll would be able to continue fucking her submissive pet non-stop for hours, if not a day, if she willed it - and produce at least a dozen or so regularly-spaced cum-loads along the way.

Of course, she wasn't really planning to let it go that long - she just enjoyed driving home to her dear pet that his punishment would continue until she decided it was over, no more, no less. All told, it took her about half an hour to go over the recent battlefield - an underground fortification that had belonged to a local vampire-clan before the Dawnguard swept in and overran it. Searching the rooms for valuables and useful gear, turning over all the fallen vampire-hunters to check their pockets and see if any of their equipment looked decent enough to be worth the effort of schlepping it to the nearest town, and of course searching for any hidden stashes - left by the vampires or the Dawnguard. Usually, they went through all that together, of course - it had seemingly been a habit of Placi's since well before she met him. Adventuring didn't pay the bills unless you made it, apparently, and he was always on the lookout for any gear that might serve as an upgrade to his current getup while still being compatible with his fighting-style.

Once she'd scoured the place, she returned to the fortress courtyard to find that, sure enough, the armored troll was still going strong, and the slimy, sloshing sounds that his powerful thrusts produced had only grown more distinct. Placi, meanwhile, seemed to have a tiny whine forced from his lungs each time the thick, warty rod was forced into his guts... but he was still there, letting the monstrous creature rail him without resistance, obedient to his Mistress' command. Between his legs, his cock was swinging in the still air - hard and fully unsheathed. It had softened some after he'd finished planting his seed in the husky bitch earlier, but never entirely retreated into his sheath, and by now the troll's vigorous stimulation had clearly managed to make it stand at attention again.

Sitting down beside him, she reached underneath his furry chest and ran a finger across it - feeling it shudder under her touch, smooth and warm and veiny, not to mention still a bit sticky from its earlier use. Normally, like the first time they'd done this, she'd use mild lightning-magic to force an orgasm from him during his penance, just to add an extra bit of humiliation and some pain for spice - but at the moment, it seemed like poor Placi was in plenty of pain already. Such a lengthy reaming from such a heavily-textured tool, delivered with such raw force, had to have turned his sphincter into a ring of fire - and the rest of his rectum probably wasn't much better.

"What a needy puppy..." she said softly, knowing that his sharp, lupine ears would pick up her voice just fine even over the grunting and pounding of the armored troll. Wrapping her slender fingers around his shaft, she began to slowly pump it, jacking him off - she'd never tried something like that before, but it seemed fairly simple, and her inhumanly powerful grip let her apply significant pressure. Based on the way he was throbbing between her fingers and the steady acceleration of his breathing, she apparently wasn't doing too bad a job of it, either.

A mischievous smile on her lips, she raised her free hand and called upon something that was less a spell, and more a power intrinsic to her bloodline. The Vampiric Grip had proven to have significant utility outside of the battlefield, and she'd noticed that simply being held by it seemed to arouse her darling pet in much the same way the muzzle, the collar, and the plug did. With some practice, she'd managed to isolate the part of it that seemed to be the key to this effect - and it was this she employed now. Rather than trying to lift him off the ground by the neck as this power usually did - which would've been quite difficult anyway, what with the weight of the armored troll being on top_of him - it simply focused its sanguine power around his neck..._squeezing.

Placi's panting grew quicker and more labored, while his cock trembled in her grip, twitching in a somewhat familiar way - albeit one she was used to feeling with a rather different part of her anatomy. Grin widening, she sent a mental command to her undead thrall - which, of course, was promptly obeyed, seeing as the reanimated troll was little more than a physical extension of her will at this point. The powerful thrusts ceased at last - and were, in keeping with the usual rules of these punishment-sessions, replaced by a deluge of warm troll-piss as the large creature emptied its equally-large bladder.

In the same moment, pushed unrelentingly by her tight grip on his cock and throat alike, Placi came - spraying his thin, hot cum onto the chipped flagstones beneath them, while Serana laughed out loud. "My, are you really cumming from having a troll use your ass as a urinal?" She called out, even as she continued to vigorously jerk him off. "What a filthy, depraved little pet you are..." He, of course, could only helplessly whine and pant, unable to speak in this form - not that her sanguine grip on his windpipe would've made it easy to say anything coherent regardless.

That, of course, was more or less the end of that particular session. The troll's work was done, and it was allowed to collapse into dust, rusty armor piled atop the resulting mound. Placi was plugged as usual, staggering onwards behind his Mistress despite his inflated guts and aching sphincter. He made no attempt to contradict her 'accusation' even once he had a tongue to speak with again - whether simply out of silent obedience, or because he agree that details aside, he was a rather filthy, depraved pet, considering what kind of things he so readily surrendered to.

The journey back to Castle Volkihar was just as long as it had been the first time, or nearly so. Serana spent some of it - what she didn't_spend either moaning beneath Placi's hairy body or laughing above him as she put him through torments and humiliations for her own amusement - studying and practicing her magic, determined to find an answer for that one thing she still remained uncertain about. Fortunately, once she dug into her old spellbooks, she found just the thing - after all, she had been trained during an earlier era, at a time when magic now considered lost and forgotten was still in common use. Illusion-magic had never been her forte, alas... but where there was a will, there was a way - and by the time they were halfway to her father's castle, she held the glimmering, pale-blue spark of a new spell in her hand. Or rather, an _old spell - Command Creature. It would not work on humanoids, sure, nor was it likely to work on powerful monsters like trolls, draugr or hagravens, let alone the dread Dremora. But against weaker creatures or simple animals? It should work just fine for that.

Of course, now that she'd gotten in a bit of practice at Illusion, a simple Detect Life spell was easy to manage too. Thus, the next time they settled a camp - well away from civilization, as tended to be the case - she put both of them to use, scouring their immediate surroundings for any signs of reasonably large animal life. With her vampiric stealth, it was then a simple task to sneak up on her mark and hit it with the Command-spell, before leading it back to the camp for some... experimentation.

Placi submitted readily to this new game, though of course, that didn't really tell her anything - at this point, he'd no doubt do so regardless of his personal preferences. The fact that she could maybe just ask him about said preferences did occur to her - it wasn't as if he'd be likely to lie to her, after all. Mumble awkwardly and look at his feet, perhaps, but not lie. But, that struck her as a tremendously boring option, especially when the alternative was so amusing, so she rejected it.

The wildlife of Skyrim was quite varied - and fortunately, so was Placi's form, and thus size. Depending on what she 'caught' any given night, she might command him into his werewolf-form, or leave him instead in his less sturdy and somewhat tighter_human form. Generally, it played out as a threesome - he'd mount her, in one position or another, and then the night's catch would mount _him in turn, having been 'prepared' ahead of time by his well-trained tongue. This way, she could more precisely measure what improvement these bestial additions to their sexual adventures might provide towards his enthusiasm, energy or staying-power.

There certainly was an improvement, that much was obvious, but it wasn't exactly clear if it had anything to do with the fact that they were animals. Perhaps a bit of simultaneous rectal stimulation just helped him fuck her harder, faster and longer regardless of the source? She'd have to think of some way to control for the various other possible explanations... and in the meantime, just abandon the paper-thin excuse of 'experimentation'. Watching him bend over for whatever creature she brought around, be it a freshly-reanimated highwayman or a mind-controlled elk was just plain entertaining, not to mention satisfying on a deep level. If it also served to make him even better in bed - or, on top of a hastily-placed bedroll, anyway - then why not keep doing it?

Besides, there was something deliciously depraved about tasting the animal musk on his tongue as she made out with him while he vigorously pounded her pussy, able to look across his shoulder to see the wolf or fox that was currently busy knotting his currently furless ass. Or feeling his thrusts into her own ass get added power and emphasis as a bear or elk furiously pounded his more muscular werewolf-form, their own pleasure delayed by the command-spell. As an added bonus, the larger animals could be slaughtered after the fun had been had, with pelts collected for later trading and the meat roasted over the bonfire for a reinvigorating late-night snack. All upsides, no downsides - and Placi's ass was clearly growing more and more accustomed to the rough treatment, in both of his forms.

It was a short while after this new perversion had become established as a regular part of their nightly entertainment that they once again reached Castle Volkihar - where they found that the old Moth-Priest they had 'recruited' had preceded them despite his age. Perhaps he'd been more eager to reach that sad place than they had, Serana thought sarcastically as she watched the old man open and read the Elder Scroll, spewing a load of ominous and enigmatic pronunciations. Somehow, she was not surprised that this whole exercise had ultimately raised more questions than it answered.

Her father seemed to have been more optimistic, now finding it hard to hide his disappointment. "That was... not as useful as I would have liked." He admitted as he turned towards her. "Even so, you did well, my daughter." Serana smiled pleasantly, doing her best to pretend like this acknowledgment still meant something to her. "Do you have any information about these other two scrolls he spoke of?" She asked, somewhat uncertain about what she was_hoping_ to hear. If this whole project were to hit a solid wall, it'd grow much easier to convince the rest of the clan that his obsession with the prophesy had been nothing more than a huge waste of time and resources, thus rallying support for a change in leadership. On the other hand, something about the old monk's shaky words had tweaked her instincts. Somehow, she felt certain that the power her father sought - this 'bow' that could apparently darken the sun - could somehow be turned against him. Which meant beating him to the treasure might be the true key to ending his deathless reign over the clan...

As it turned out, the actual answer was a mixed bag. "Well, I know where one of them is... or rather, who holds it." There was venom in his voice as he replied. "Since that, too, used to be in my keeping - before your mother stole it from me and disappeared, around the same time you did. I have been searching ceaselessly for her in the centuries since..." He hesitated there, then once again put on that vile grimace that he seemed to imagine resembled a paternal smile. "...not just_to retrieve my scrolls, of course, but also because I knew she could tell me where she had hidden _you away, my dear." Serana nodded, acting like she believed a word he was saying. "Well, considering that it wasn't you who ultimately opened my stone coffin and released me, I take you never found her?"

Indeed, he had not - which wasn't surprising. Her mother had always been keen and swift of mind, though she'd lacked both the brute force and dark charisma that her husband had developed after they received their 'blessing' from Molag Bal. She'd be hiding from him_specifically_, so there was no way he'd find her, however much he searched. Indeed, that was exactly what she'd said the last time the two of them met... that she'd go somewhere 'safe', somewhere her father would 'never search'... an interesting wording, now that she thought about it. Not 'never find', but 'never search'. Certainly, there were few enough places where her father would not dare to look, if he was seeking the subject of his enduring obsession. The palaces of kings and the treasuries of the greedy alike would offer scant protection from his probing eye. But... there was something she'd used to say, back in the day, when they still vaguely resembled a family...

She listened with half an ear as her father ranted about all the resources he'd poured into his futile search, and all the false leads she'd laid down to distract him before seemingly vanishing off the face of Tamriel, nodding at suitable intervals, while her mind bounced around the problem, piecing together old memories and half-remembered conversations with her mother. By the time Harkon's rant petered off, she had a fairly clear idea in her head. "What about the other, third scroll?" She asked, as if the subject of her mother's disappearance hadn't prompted any particular revelations. To this, her father shrugged. "I've heard rumors..." he said, without any particular vehemence. Now that his wife wasn't a part of the conversation any more, he'd regained his equilibrium. "About an Elder Scroll lost in the bowels of a Dwemer ruin."

Serana nodded thoughtfully. "It seems our work is not yet done, Father." He sighed. "Indeed, my daughter. But I have waited this long, and we are so very close now. I can wait a bit longer." She flashed him her best smile. "Indeed. And I will do everything I can to help, of course. For now, unless you have some objection, I think I'll look into this 'dwemer ruin' rumor. My pet has a background in adventuring, so I may be able to use him to draw on some useful contacts and dig up some more information." A shadow of disappointment seemed to flash over her father's pale face, but he nodded nonetheless. "A sound plan, my dear. I will make another attempt at locating your mother's trail, then - there are only so many places left by now that I have not already searched! Take care in your travels - and do not forget my warning about your_pet..."_

As they left the castle - once again crossing the gargoyle-lined bridge that led to the grand portculis - Placi drew up closer. He'd stayed in his usual spot while they were inside, a step behind and to the right of her, eyes downcast and mouth closed. Just her easily-overlooked bodyguard, nothing more. "Ah... Mistress... about that Elder Scroll..." he started, only to pause in apparent confusion as instead of heading for the boat that would take them back to mainland Skyrim, she led him around the side of the bridge, following the coastline of the tiny atoll the castle stood on. "Ah, do not worry about that - at least not yet..." she said quietly, glancing over her shoulder at him. "We're going after my mother's scroll first."

Seeing the surprise on his face, Serana paused and turned to look at him fully, smiling gently. "I suppose we haven't actually, properly discussed what I'm doing, have we? You've actually been following me so far under the assumption that I was genuinely trying to help my father on his mad quest to blot out the sun and usher in an age of vampires, haven't you? That is terribly sweet, honestly..." She reached out to caress his cheek, prompting him to blush. "Such a_good_ boy you are." Letting her fingers briefly drop to touch his collar, reminding him once more of his 'pet' status, she turned away again and continued along the beach. "But, worry not. I have every intention of spoking my noble father's wheel, both because his plan is insane and out of pure self-preservation. Which is why I just lied to him about having no idea where mother might be hiding out with the second scroll. Fact is, if someone's going to be searching all across the world for you, the best place to lay low is right under his nose - especially if there's a place in his own palace that he's never cared for, and thus isn't likely to spend any time on. And fortunately, I know a secret route in there... ah, here we are!" The old escape-tunnel at the end of the inlet was still there, unblocked, as she'd hoped. Now it was just a matter of making their way through the catacombs and into the courtyard where her mother had created the garden that her father had always so despised. That was where she'd be able to pick up her mother's trail - of that she felt confident.

Serana glanced around at the purple-tinted wasteland of the Soul Cairn with expressed discontent. It was a thoroughly miserable place, after all - a restless prison for spirits who, thanks to the interference of forbidden magics, had been unable to reach whatever afterlife otherwise awaited them. Well, them, and also her mother - who had fled there through a portal in her hidden study, thinking to hide from her husband's fury beyond the very veil of death. Ah, but how quickly a refuge could become a jail-cell. In spite of that, her mother hadn't been particularly happy to see her - but it hadn't been hard to convince her that she was now actively working to subvert her father, and that she'd brought a suitable quantity of muscle along to pull it off.

Thus, they were once again traveling back and forth across a land, doing errands for a noble vampire who seemed singularly unlikely to ever express any actual gratitude for their intervention. Hunting down the 'Boneyard Keepers' who maintained the barrier keeping Valerica imprisoned there, at the behest of the enigmatic 'Ideal Masters' who controlled this forsaken place. This would clearly involve a fair bit of trekking through this hostile place - nothing new there - but it was a far different prospect from simply traveling across the vast lands of Skyrim.

This, after all, was a realm of death. There were no animals here, nor anything edible - leaving Placi to live off the rations they had brought, while she lived off him - and worse yet the foes they encountered were invariably hostile spirits of one sort or another. These circumstances had effectively put an end to most of her regular amusements. There were no animals to control and lead back to the campsite, and even if one of the Bonemen or other aggressive beings they encountered managed to scratch her, there was nothing of them left to reanimate after the fight. Even the campfire that they'd so often found their amusements besides was unsatisfying here - the flame burned cold and blue, putting off hardly any heat... it could barely manage to heat up Placi's rations, much less provide the kind of cozy warmth that they were used to enjoying.

Of course, even the oppressive atmosphere of this place had not managed to suppress Placi's eagerness to obey her every whim, nor the rock-hard arousal with which he met any order to mount her. His cock was as thick and hot inside her as ever, whether it was human- or wolf-shaped, in her ass or in her pussy. The sex was pleasurable to be sure, the orgasms they shared satisfying and intense - but by now she'd grown accustomed to something more. The complex, cerebral enjoyment that came from watching him submit to pain and humiliation alike just to amuse her - the frequent reminders that his collar was more than just a fashion-accessory. That he truly_belonged_ to her, despite all his power.

She'd grown more aware of that as they traveled together, after all. The raw strength of his werewolf-form aside, his skill as a warrior was not merely impressive, it was also growing, and at a downright frightening rate. Every fight seemed to leave him just a bit stronger, a bit faster, a bit sharper. Even dragons were no match for him, as she'd seen firsthand a few times in their travels. It was still hard for her to accept, honestly - that the crazy rumors about the 'dragonborn' that they heard whispered in taverns and sung by bards actually referred to him. Her loyal pet, her willing slave... but, however hard it was to accept, she'd seen it with her own eyes. The souls of slain dragons absorbed into his body, empowering him to wield the nigh-mythical power of the Thu'um.

Of course, she had grown stronger as well. Fully recovering and embracing the power of a Vampire Lord, the prize she paid so dearly for, as well as refreshing and expanding her arcane arsenal. But deep inside, she knew - she was, if anything, even more reliant on him today than she'd been when he helped her stagger out of her thousand-year tomb. No amount of confidence could change the fact that the greatest power she currently wielded was him. His willingness to be her weapon was the main reason she felt certain that bringing down her terrifying father was a real possibility.

In view of that, she felt a strong need to constantly reinforce his submission - reminding herself that despite their individual power-levels, she was in charge. With no controlled animals or slain foes to draw on for that, there were few ways left for her to do that. Of course, she still had her ability to attach an icy dick to her own groin - and even when she scaled it up to troll-like proportions and covered it in dull, stubby spikes, he certainly still bent over for it readily enough, lifting his tail and whining very satisfyingly as she reamed out his ass with the frozen tool. With that as the only outlet for her more dominant desires, however, it was quickly growing rather boring. She needed a different way to put him in his place - said place being 'beneath her', of course.

A faint sigh made her glance over her shoulder, back at the campfire. Placi, it seemed, had finished his vaguely warmed-up dinner. Rising from the bit of crumbled masonry he'd been sitting on, slouched off behind a nearby piece of wall - presumably to answer the call of nature. He looked a bit downcast - perhaps the general atmosphere of the Soul Cairn was getting to him on a level that she, being technically undead, couldn't fathom. Or maybe he was missing their usual campsite entertainments just as much as she was. Certainly, his current route was bound to remind him of all the times he'd had to waddle away from camp to empty his roiling guts of the cum and piss of the enemies he hadn't quite managed to keep off of her. Not so this time, despite a mistman actually managing to get in a glancing blow earlier that day.

She let her eyes return to the alien landscape before her, but she wasn't really seeing it anymore. Her mind, instead, was idling, bouncing from random thought to random thought. Placi didn't seem guilt-wracked whenever she got hit anymore, even now that his usual 'penance' wasn't possible. Maybe their usual diversions had helped him come to terms with the fact that it was going to happen from time to time, and just to focus on minimizing it rather than preventing it outright. Maybe she should sneak off behind some cover herself, now that she thought about it. She hadn't really eaten anything since they entered the Soul Cairn, mind, so it wasn't like she needed to poop, but the blood she drank to keep herself going needed to go_somewhere_. Of course, she never needed to eat, but if she saw something tasty-looking that smelled delicious, she tended to do it anyway, even knowing that it inevitably led to bothersome bowel-movements that she needed to get out of the way before she let Placi ride her ass. The rations he was living off at the moment weren't all that tempting, though, so no trouble there...

Blinking, she felt her mind snap back into focus, drawing a line between two of her idle thoughts. A smile spread across her face, while a heated sensation grew between her legs. As Placi returned from his brief absence, making for the cool, blue campfire, she turned on her heel and sauntered towards him, swaying her hips outrageously while she felt the cold thrill of domination already flowing through her body. She intercepted him before he could return to his seat, and instead pushed him to his knees on the dark-purple ground, enjoying the way he so readily responded to her touch, putting up no resistance.

Already, his eyes were coming alive, the slope of his shoulders straightening as he gazed adoringly up at her from his current position. Returning the look with a confident smile of her own, she pulled her pants down to reveal her bare slit - already noticeably moist - and placed a controlling hand on his scalp, pulling him into it even as she spread her legs and pushed her groin forwards. Readily, he closed his lips around her pussy-mound and began to lick it, letting his tongue dig into the slit between her fleshy labia to taste her arousal - he was hardly a stranger to providing her with oral pleasure, after all, in either of his forms.

This time, however, she had something different in mind. Tightening her grip on his skull, letting her fingers dig into his smooth, dark-brown hair, she held him in place there - and relaxed her bladder. Its contents poured out into his waiting mouth, filling it with an unexpected surge of warmth and sour bitterness that made him stiffen under her hand, gagging and coughing, sending oddly pleasurable vibrations through her groin. "Drink!" she hissed. "And relish the taste of your Mistress!"

He seemed to struggle for a bit, as his mouth continued to fill up with the steady flow of her piss. Then, finally, he seemed to get his throat-muscles under control - and swallowed. He had to do so a couple of more times before the flow faded into a slow drip, and every time, the sensation of suction it caused on her pussy-mound sent a deep thrill up her spine. His tongue felt a bit shaky as it subsequently caressed the top of her slit, licking up the last few drops that lingered at her urethra, but at least she didn't have to_tell_ him to do it.

Pulling his head away again, she leaned back to get a better look at him. His eyes seemed slightly glazed, and he was panting - though that may have been partially due to having his nose mashed against her groin for the past several minutes. Balancing on one leg, she pushed her other foot in between his lightly-spread legs, poking at his groin with her boot - feeling the hardness there. "Aroused, are you, pup?" She purred. "A dirty and depraved little thing you are indeed..." Slowly, he nodded. "Yes, Mistress..." he said between pants, sounding almost bemused.

Chuckling, she turned around and glanced at him over her shoulder. "Well, you did a passable job, I suppose - hardly perfect, but I'm sure you'll improve with practice. I suppose I can put that hard-on to good use... prepare my ass, pet. Loosen up my sphincter with your tongue, and get it nice and slippery with your spit." Reaching down, she pulled her buttocks apart to give him a better look at her asshole. She couldn't exactly see it herself, but considering how often it had welcomed a long, knotted werewolf-cock inside, she rather doubted that it resembled a tiny, brown star anymore. Indeed, it probably looked similar to his rear - a circle of darkened, wrinkled skin that showed how often the tissue had been stretched and pushed aside, surrounding a protruding, slightly swollen sphincter.

None of which prevented him from diving in promptly, burying his face between her ass-cheeks and his tongue inside her sphincter, not so much licking as worshiping her ass. Grinning, she pushed back against him, shivering at the sensation of his probing tongue twisting inside her. She should've done this ages ago, she realized - normally, she'd just 'lubricate' him by letting him fuck her pussy first, or else relied on his werewolf-form's ample pre-cum. She didn't really mind the friction, especially since his canine rod was pretty slick and smooth to begin with... but this was a definite improvement regardless. And this trip to the Soul Cairn was a perfect opportunity to get him accustomed to tonguing her ass - once they returned to Skyrim, and she started actually eating on occasion, her rear end might soon make for a somewhat more flavorful meal, after all.

Serana felt vaguely conflicted as she stepped back into the ruined courtyard of Castle Volkihar, taking a moment to enjoy the air before they'd have to delve back through the musty escape-tunnel. It was nice to be back in the real world, certainly, and the weight of the Elder Scroll in her pack felt familiar and comforting. Sure, it wasn't the _same_Elder Scroll she'd spent a millennium cozying up to in her tomb, but it weighed the same and looked the same, so it hardly mattered. All of that was nice, really, as was the thought of all the fun stuff she could get up to with her pet werewolf again now that they wouldn't have to work under the limitations of the Soul Cairn anymore.

What left her feeling conflicted, then, was the vague realization that she'd lied to her mother. It wasn't something she'd planned to do, but she'd already gotten a fair bit of practice in with her dear old dad, so when her mother's frustratingly arrogant I-know-best-dear attitude started reminding her of him, it had just kind of happened. Valerica, it seemed, remained subtly convinced that her husband could not be beaten. After all, if she'd had to flee before him, how could anyone else possibly hope to succeed? If they did, that would suggest that she wasn't perfect or all-knowing, so clearly, Harkon was invincible. It was only by convincing her that she was just trying to gather the Elder Scrolls in order to specifically sabotage his plan, twisting the prophesy to waste even more of his time while undermining the clan's faith in him, that she'd been willing to part with it.

She'd kept up a pleasant face, but underneath, she'd been seething. Her 'loving mother' had locked her in a tomb for over one thousand years, and if Placi hadn't come along and accidentally released her, she could very well have spent a whole lot longer there. Valerica certainly wasn't going to come set her free, ever, since she'd gotten herself imprisoned in the Soul Cairn - and it wasn't entirely clear when or how she'd planned to return to her even if that hadn't happened. But did she apologize? Show even a touch of contrition? Even admit that she might have made a mistake? Gods no.

The memory of her parents turning on each other, and then being caught in the middle of their escalating feud, were some of her most painful. Even as she'd struggled to get over the trauma of the ritual, she'd sought refuge in the fact that at least they were still together, as a family - and as vampires, they always would be. Not so. Instead, that power had only torn their family apart, and the immortality they'd gained ensured that the feud could go on for centuries upon centuries. All while both of them continued to treat her like a child, a tool in their idiotic war. Willing to give her the time of day only so long as they believed that she was on 'their side'. Well, she'd chosen her side by now - and her choice read 'a pox on both of your houses'. Maybe it was only her dad who was actively planning to use her as a blood-sacrifice in order to end the Tyranny of the Sun - as her mother had, indeed, confirmed - but was being sealed in an underground tomb indefinitely really any different than being dead? Not as far as she was concerned.

So she'd walk her own path, with Placi's power to back her up - she would not be a tool for anyone, least of all her arrogant, self-absorbed parents. His presence, silent and obedient, felt immeasurably comforting by her side as she contemplated this. On some level, without even realizing it, she'd still believed that if she could just find her missing mother, she'd embrace her just like when she was a little girl, and they'd work together to bring Harkon down. But things were never that simple, were they? No. She'd have to do it herself. No parents, no clan... just helpless little Serana, and her dragonslaying werewolf pet. Yes... as long as she had Placi by her side, she could do it. She would leave them all in the dust, and show them what she was truly capable of!

She hadn't even realized that she'd reached out to touch his shoulder. She let her hand linger there, though - why not? It wasn't as if he didn't know that she... cared for him, after all. As a pet, yes... a dearly beloved pet. Taking a shaky breath, she nodded. "Right. Back out through the tunnel..." she declared, starting towards the entrance to it. "And then to begin our search for that mysterious third scroll about dragons." There was a hesitation in Placi's movements as he followed her, prompting her to pause and turn towards him with a raised eyebrow. "Do you know anything about it, by any chance?" She had been hoping that he might have a clue, really - or else know somebody else who might.

Placi fidgeted. "Ah... yes, Mistress." He replied, not meeting her eyes. "I was... trying to tell you earlier, actually. Before the Soul Cairn." She nodded patiently. "So? Tell me now, then." He smiled nervously. "Yes, Mistress. I'm fairly certain I know exactly where the Elder Scroll in question can be found." That was better than she'd hoped, prompting her to lean in eagerly. "Really? You're familiar with the Dwemer ruin it's found in?" He seemed about to shake his head, then started nodding, then stopped again and ultimately settled for a shrug. "I... yes, Mistress. I already explored it, a short while before I joined the Dawnguard and found you. I had been asked to find that same scroll by... someone else. After using it, though, I didn't know what to do with it, so I just left it back home."

Serana stared at him. "You... found an Elder Scroll in the depths of some ancient Dwemer ruin, and didn't know what to do with it, so you just left it... 'at home'?" She asked, wanting to make sure she'd heard it right. Placi shrugged apologetically. "It was a bit heavy and unwieldy to carry around everywhere, I thought..." Hefting the pack that contained their most recently acquired Elder Scroll, she sighed. Wasn't much she could say to that. "Very well then, pet..." she said sweetly. "Let's get our of here - and then, go 'home'."

'Home' proved to be an unfinished estate west of Whiterun. Apparently, some early heroics in that area had prompted the Jarl to award Placi both land and title there, and he'd immediately set out to turn it into a suitably grand base of operations for his future adventures in Skyrim. Then he'd realized that building and decorating a country manor was a lot less fun than delving into trap-filled tombs, forgotten ruins and bandit fortresses in search of trouble and treasure, and left it at 'good enough'. As such, it was rather a mess, with construction-materials and rusting equipment scattered around the site, and many of the manor's rooms being either empty or half-finished. Serana loved it instantly.

Rough and tumble though it was, it seemed to hold infinite potential - and the construction itself could hardly have been more different from the cold stone colossus that she'd grown up in but never felt at_home_ in. The Elder Scroll was easily located in one of the few areas of the manor that had been finished and taken into partial use - the trophy-room, where armor-racks and display-cases filled the floor and weapon-plaques lined the walls. Most of them empty, mind, with Placi's collection of souvenirs and trophies instead being piled into a couple of overflowing chests in the corner, presumably awaiting sorting and preparation for display, which he'd get around to sometime real soon, honestly!

With that, technically, this particular 'quest' was completed. But looking around at the place, Serana found it easy to come up with an excuse to stay a while longer. There was no rush, after all - with this stroke of luck, they had definitively turned a corner on her father. Whether he was still searching for Valerica or trying to track down_this_ scroll at the bottom of some now-empty Dwemer ruin, he was wasting his time. And besides, once they had the Moth-Priest read_these_, they'd be in the endgame - off to chase down this bow that the prophecy spoke of, no doubt, and then to see if they could turn it against Harkon somehow. So would not this be a good time to prepare and arm themselves for the road ahead?

Not to mention rest and recuperate after their draining sojourn in the Soul Cairn. The Master Bedroom was fully complete and outfitted, after all, and the basement nearly so - with enough room left over in one of the later's corners for a suitable coffin. If she reached out to some of the Volkihar Clan's covert contacts in Whiterun, she should be able to get one delivered fairly quickly. The idea of sleeping in one again filled her with a mix of dread and yearning - on one hand, it recalled her far-too-long slumber in Dimhollow Crypt, but on the other, she could not escape her nature. A properly-prepared coffin would provide her with a deeper slumber and better rest than any mere bedroll or straw-stuffed mattress could hope to, and since she didn't trust her 'family' enough to avail herself of the coffins in Castle Volkihar, she'd had no opportunity to do so for quite a while...

Speaking of the basement, it seemed like Placi would be spending quite a lot of time there, too. One end of it had been outfitted with every tool a blacksmith could dream of - forge and smelter, anvil and armoring-table, labeled ore-storage, and so on. Much like the trophy-room above, this place too held a crate overflowing with various materials - ores, ingots, jewels, chitin, and much more - that Placi had scavenged on his journeys, and then piled up here with the intent of sorting it and putting it to use... someday. Well, today was the day, then, and whatever self-discipline he lacked, she_would provide. Certainly, she'd seen him maintain his weapons and armor often enough on their travels to know that he had a real knack for such crafting - he merely needed to _apply himself to it for a while, then he'd surely be able to make something better than his increasingly ratty old suit of scaled armor.

Of course, he obeyed her in this as readily as he did when she commanded him to lick her ass or drink down her piss - things she had not_stopped_ doing at regular intervals just because they'd left the Soul Cairn behind, and which he was growing steadily more skilled at. While he hammered and smelted away in the basement, meanwhile, she decided to likewise improve her own arsenal - and converted an empty room at the back of the house that seemed to be mostly used for storage at the moment into an improvised magic-and-alchemy laboratory.

She had a particular subject of study in mind... after all, once she'd entered Placi's trophy-room, she'd immediately realized that the Elder Scroll they'd come for wasn't the only insanely rare and powerful artifact that he'd collected somehow only to haphazardly throw into a box for lack of something better to do with it. Most notably, the messy little room held two separate Daedric Artifacts, which - when combined with the ring on Placi's finger - meant that he'd tangled with at least three of the Daedric Princes and come out ahead. A rare distinction indeed.

One of those artifacts was, admittedly, of just as of little interest to her as it apparently was to him - the great warhammer Volendrung, known to some as the Hammer of Might and heavily associated with Malacath, Prince of the Spurned. An impressive weapon to be sure, but it clearly didn't suit Placi's agile combat-style, and it certainly wasn't going to do her any good either. The other one, though... it was a wooden mage's staff, crowned by a large ruby carved into the shape of a blooming rose so beautifully that it looked like an actual flower, petrified and frozen in time. The Sanguine Rose - a fearsome artifact of Sanguine, the Daedric Prince of Hedonism, Lord of Debauchery. A being that she felt a certain... kinship with at this point.

More to the point, the staff offered an opportunity for her to start expanding her budding abilities in the field of Conjuring beyond merely the narrow area of Necromancy and the more basic cantrips like summoning a Spectral Wolf familiar. Dealing with the Daedra was always dangerous, of course, but as her family's fate demonstrated, it could also lead to great power if you handled it right. Thus, she began to study the staff, even as she delved deeper into the field of Conjuring - practicing the alchemy her mother had taught her in between, cooking up potions to help both herself and Placi in their respective work in the process.

But, of course, there was no way their stay would be all work and no play. Even during the journey down south to Whiterun, Serana had been eager to resume their earlier activities, once more controlling animals and adding them to their campfire debauchery nearly every night. This estate, though, offered the possibility of taking things to a new level. After all, its externals included a stable with room for three horses - currently empty - and a small animal-pen besides. So... why just order a coffin for the basement? Placi had made several contacts, both locally and in Whiterun proper, when he'd started building the place. They'd been collecting gold steadily even as they traveled together, so money was no object.

Thus, soon enough, the ordered goods were delivered. A coffin for the basement, a donkey for the animal-pen, and a magnificent, amber-coated breeding-stallion for the stables. Placing said stallion under her direct control was quite easy for Serana - being a domesticated beast rather than a wild one, it put up virtually no resistance to her Command-spell. The resulting control ensured that the animal didn't panic when a werewolf appeared next to it - and, of course, ensured that its cock began to emerge from its sheath right on cue.

Placi had no doubt known what he'd be in for as soon as she placed the order, but he still looked a bit wide-eyed as he got down on all fours to take a first-hand look at what the stallion was packing. Even soft, it was as thick as a man's wrist and as long as his forearm - dangling down to nearly brush the straw-strewn floor. Less heavily-textured than a troll's, to be sure, but also_significantly_ larger in every direction. "Don't worry, pet..." Serana crooned, already aroused by the knowledge that he would, indeed, go through with it - just because she wanted him to. "I'll help you 'warm up' beforehand. Wouldn't want you getting_hurt_ or anything, after all..."

As he obediently began to lick the stallion's slowly-hardening tool, adding that much-needed lubrication, she thus started to prepare his ass for the new level of abuse it was about to be exposed to. The slick ice-dildo that appeared from her groin the moment she willed it pushed into his well-trained anus with relative ease, but as she steadily fucked him - spanking his fuzzy ass with her palm between the strokes - it started to grow thicker and thicker. She could feel the strain in his sphincter as she reached the girth of the average troll-cock, which was about the biggest tool she'd used on him so far. She could feel him shiver as she pushed past that point, continuing to grind against him - listening to the little snorts and gasps he produced as his breath quickened. Between the stretching and the burning coldness of the icy dildo, never mind a steady spanking delivered with vampiric strength, he had to be in significant pain - but rather than making him wince, it just seemed to motivate him further, prompting him to lick the steadily-hardening stallion-tool before him with growing ardor.

Finally, when both the fully-hardened horse cock and its intended receptacle had been suitably prepared, Serana stepped back and let the ice dildo melt away so that she could start stroking her chilled labia and throbbing clit. Normally, she would've been underneath Placi as the stallion mounted him, enjoying the increased weight of his thrusts - but this first time, she wanted to be able to see it all properly. She wanted to watch as this powerful warrior, shifted into the form of a mighty werewolf, willingly bent over and submitted to getting his ass painfully reamed out by a horny stallion, just to please her.

Squatting behind them, she watched eagerly as the stallion mounted him - the broad, flat cockhead pushing against his already-gaping anus and meeting significant resistance. It had all the weight of a well-muscled horse behind it, though... dwarfing even the werewolf in terms of sheer mass. Under such enormous pressure, the thoroughly-trained sphincter soon gave out, stretching to accommodate this new intruder as Placi howled in pain. The magically controlled stallion ignored this blood-chilling sound, however - the only thing in its head right now was the unmitigated lust she had implanted there. Unconcerned by the protestation of the furry 'mare' beneath him, the stallion thus carried on - thrusting deeper, flexing his powerful hips, forcing more and more inches of wrist-thick, rock-hard shaft inside the warmth of the werewolf's ass.

Fortunately, despite the agonized cry, Placi's ass still seemed to be in one piece. His sphincter, though clearly strained to the very limit, had not torn - and there was no blood bubbling out along its edges as the horse-cock continued to slide inside. The howl also had not repeated itself, being instead reduced to a steady stream of pained whimpers and gasps spaced out by continuous panting. Soon, the stallion-tool had bottomed out - leaving the werewolf's furry back flush against the horse's belly, and the distinct ring near the base of the thick shaft rubbing against his sphincter.

Driven as it was by sheer lust - hers, not its own - the stallion didn't waste any time letting poor Placi adjust to the sheer size of the penetration at this point. It had reached what its instincts considered a suitable penetration - now it was time to _rut._The long, equine body had been built for galloping and jumping, and all of that was being put to use as the stallion bucked powerfully, fucking Placi with long, quick thrusts. The sheer friction made the werewolf's ass bulge out as the horse pulled back, only for it to turn into a crater as the withdrawal turned into a renewed charge. Every thrust pushed a wheezing gasp of pain from him, and his sphincter clearly still struggled to deal with the sheer girth of the intrusion.

How would it feel like to have such sheer quantity of cock inside you, Serana wondered as she watched with rapt attention, desperately fingering herself. The stallion-tool outmassed even Placi's werwolf-form cock by a factor of at least three to one - as was fairly visible right now, considering the way said cock was swaying and bouncing between his legs, rock-hard and dripping precum despite the obvious pain he was enduring. Or perhaps because of it - she still wasn't entirely certain whether he truly enjoyed_pain, or if it was more the experience of submission itself that aroused him, the same way the act of domination aroused _her.

The stallion didn't last very long. Prey-animals rarely did, in her experience - they knew well, on some dim, instinctive level, that mating left both them and their partner in a dangerously vulnerable position should some wolf of sabre-cat wander by, so they tended to aim to get things done and dusted as quickly as possible. The long, powerful strokes turned into short, twitchy movements as he came, fully embedded, spraying a huge load of thick horse-cum into the depths of Placi's guts. Then, after a couple of seconds in which both horse and werewolf caught up with their breathing... the stallion began to move again, just as vigorously as before.

After all, the equine's instinctive desire to finish things up and leave this compromising position was no match for the power of the Command Creature enchantment it was under - nor the lust that had charged that spell. As the stallion's fist-sized balls began the laborious task of preparing another load, the thick rod above them - which had never lost one bit of its rock-like hardness - started plunging in and out of the tight hole embracing it once more, whipping the previous cum-load into foam within it. The inches of equine girth that emerged from Placi's clutching sphincter soon started glistening with a slimy white sheen - providing an additional layer of lubrication that visibly eased the stallion's movements, allowing it to further increase the speed and forcefulness of its thrusts.

Serana rubbed herself to no less than three orgasms as she watched this violent mating continue - ultimately putting an end to it only when she noticed that the stallion was foaming at the mouth, its muscles twitching and trembling with overexertion. It had pounded Placi for some twenty minutes by then - easily ten times as long as an ordinary mounting would have lasted - depositing a full four cum-loads within him over the span of that time. His belly was visibly distended, groaning under the sheer quantity of horse-cum that had been pumped into it, and his increasingly loose sphincter couldn't entirely stop spurts of the thick slime from escaping every time the thick horse-cock smashed home.

She could think of only one way to cap off this tremendous display of bestial lust and abject surrender. As the stallion's juddering thrusts finally ceased, leaving him standing there with shaking limbs and steam rising from his coat, she leaned in closer and called a small spark of magical lightning to her juice-soaked hand. With a tired whinny, the horse obeyed the new command of the control-spell that lay on its dim mind, relaxing its bladder - rock-hard and near enough overflowing after such lengthy exertion.

As the horse-piss poured into Placi's straining guts, further increasing the pain caused by this internal pressure, hissing sparks played across his cock and balls, milking him as they had on many previous occasions - forcing him to once again painfully spill his seed on the ground in the midst of his humiliation. Panting and groaning with the sensation, he was no doubt unsurprised when, as the stallion finally backed up and dismounted, the thick horse-cock filling his rectum was swiftly replaced with something smooth and metallic - plugging his ass before anything other than a brief spurt of the piss-thinned cum inside of him could escape.

He probably wasn't too surprised that this plug was bigger than the one he'd worn before, either, Serana judged as she pushed it into place. After all, the old one would be hard-pressed to stay in place now that his sphincter had been stretched to such new and spectacular proportions. She'd been crafting this one as they waited for the 'delivery', enchanting it as she had the previous one... but, it _did_still have a few surprises in store, as he no doubt noticed as he felt the cold steel close tightly around the top of his ball-sack and the root of his cock, right below the knot. With a grunt, she tightened this part of the new device and locked it in place as Placi whimpered - yet still he remained on his hands and knees, as he had been ordered to in preparation for the horse-fucking.

Twin steel rings now encircled his genitals, tightly enough that she felt reasonably certain that he wouldn't be able to cum while wearing them - a set of new 'collars' for the hungry wolf that lurked between his legs. A short bar crossing his taint allowed them to join with the new butt-plug, keeping that in place as well, and ensuring that no amount of internal pressure would push it out, even while he was still in his werewolf-form. In fact, such pressure would only place a painful strain on his balls as the lower of the two rings was pushed down, trapping the sensitive little spheres against his leathery sack.

Leaving Placi there on the straw-strewn floor to recover for a bit, panting and whimpering, Serana led the staggering stallion back into his stall, releasing him from her magical control as she went. "I think I've come up with a name for you already, big boy..." she cheerfully told the horse, who blithely ignored her - clearly more focused on the trough of feed that awaited in his stall. "Wolfsbane - I think it's appropriate, no?" She glanced over her shoulder at the slowly-recovering werewolf on the floor, the metallic plug gleaming under his tail. "Now rest up well - I'll be working you hard from now on!"

She took the time to brush the stallion down a bit - she'd never really learned to care for a horse, but she'd seen enough people do it over the course of both her earlier life and her travels with Placi. Including a certain stable-boy from her days as a mortal. Apparently, it was important to do so if the horse had been ridden hard... or, in this case, ridden somebody else hard. In the meantime, Placi seemed to pull himself together a bit - though, of course, the plug prevented his sphincter from doing the same - and by the time she returned to him, he looked a lot more alert than before.

Reaching down, she patted his head. "A lovely display, my pet. Now, do_pick yourself up and turn back to human, hmm? Then go get the donkey and take him inside the house. I'll be waiting for _both of you in the bedroom..." He barked once - his way of saying 'Yes, Mistress!' while in werewolf form, and rose to his feet as she sauntered towards the estate's front door with a sway in her hips. She paused at the threshold to glance back at him, just to watch him wince as he shifted back to his notably smaller human form - leaving the plug still lodged in his anus a far more painfully intrusive presence - then quickly headed inside and over to her 'laboratory' to pick up a few things.

By the time he entered the bedroom, human-shaped again and with the donkey reluctantly in tow, she was sitting on the edge of the bed, entirely naked. "Well? Get undressed..." she purred as he paused before her, licking his lips. Bobbing his head eagerly, he gave the requisite "Yes, Mistress!" and quickly shed his clothes and armor, leaving only the Ring of Hircine on his finger, the collar around his neck... and, now, the steel rings surrounding his cock and balls. His cock was still hard, and looked remarkably veiny - thanks, no doubt, to that very same ring. He probably had a keen idea of what came next, considering how often she'd enjoyed getting fucked by him while some animal simultaneously mounted his ass. Just a shame he was entirely wrong.

Another casting of her Command Creature spell brought the annoyed-looking donkey under her full control, and caused his equine cock to steadily unfold from his sheath - same as had been the case with the stallion earlier. Only, this one far smaller - both the creature himself, and the tool that was now revealed. "Prepare him..." Serana said lustily, gesturing towards the donkey. With another "Yes, Mistress!" Placi complied - diving under the beast to begin licking its steadily-hardening cock, getting it suitably lubricated. A somewhat larger task in his human form than it was as a werewolf, but one he'd conducted enough times in both shapes to handle it with aplomb.

As he worked, she spoke, letting her voice turn chilly and watching how that, alone, sent shivers through his body. "Now, my darling pet, I've noticed recently that you've gotten quite... comfortable_with our current situation." This, certainly, was true. He might have abandoned the construction-project at some point, but now, with_her there, he seemed delighted to just spend his days practicing blacksmithing in the basement while occasionally taking some time out to work on finishing the house, while occupying half the night fucking her, worshiping her ass, or getting pegged by her.

She didn't mind - especially not that last part. Problem was, she felt the same way, if not more so. It was getting... all too tempting to just give up on fighting her father. It would be so easy to delude herself into believing that they could just hide out here, deep in the wilds of Skyrim, together, for years and decades to come. That line of thought needed to be nipped in the bud. "So, I have decided to provide you with some motivation to focus on what we actually need to do here." she continued out loud, and gestured towards the rings that had been sealed shut around his cock and balls.

"Hence, this is my decision: Until you have finished mastering the craftsmanship needed to prepare a suitable set of gear for the challenges ahead, you will only be allowed to cum while Wolfsbane is riding your ass. The rest of the time, the rings will stay in place - denying you release." An obvious shudder went through him, though his tongue continued to labor, licking up and down the thick, equine shaft of the now-placid donkey. She wasn't done yet, though. "In addition, every time you do let the stallion mount you... well, the same thing will happen as is _about_to happen. Now, I think that donkey-cock is suitably wet - heel! Sit! Stay!"

With such words, she summoned him - to kneel before her, ready and obedient, heeding canine commands as well in his human form as he did as a werewolf. Rising from the bed, she unveiled the other_accessory she'd prepared for this day, right alongside the new plug and its attachment. It was a simple thing, really - a long iron bar with anchor-points at the top, bottom, and middle. Leather straps dangled from two of the three. Stepping around her kneeling submissive, she fastened the top of the bar to the back of his collar, then bound his ankles to the bottom of the rod - before pulling his arms behind him to lock his wrists in place at the middle. He was bound, thus, in his current, kneeling position, hands tied. The final part was a simple gag - a regular thing, suitable for a human face rather than a wolf's muzzle. She could feel his breathing quicken as she tied him up, recognizing the same arousal that she'd seen when she first introduced the muzzle-gag to their games, early in their journey... he _enjoyed this helplessness, even if he must have by now realized that things were about to get a lot worse.

Stepping around to the front, she looked him up and down with satisfaction. A fine display he made like that - with the rod straightening his spine and giving him fine posture, with the tightly-set ankle-restraints forcing his legs to spread slightly so that his confined cock could bob freely in the air. Giving him a fond pat on the head, she backed up to the bed and draped herself over the edge of it, leaning back and spreading her legs... even as she summoned the donkey, magically fueling its lust as it approached.

Her breathing quickened as the donkey brayed and pounced on her, its hooves sinking into the mattress beside her head. Looking down below his gray-coated belly, she could see his cock swinging there - thick, heavy, and glistening with Placi's spit. Not as big as the full-sized stallion she'd watched so eagerly before, but still big... the whole shaft was as thick as the uninflated knot Placi sported in his werewolf-form, and the head would flare to something similar to its inflated state soon enough. It was, of course, also several inches longer.

Nervousness warred with arousal in her mind. After watching Placi couple with so many animals over the course of their relationship, it was finally time for her to try it. The supposed taboo of it didn't bother her - what meaning was there to such social standards when you were an existence forbidden by the gods themselves? All that worried her was the size and strength of the creature now mounting her - how much pain the pleasure would be spiced with. Once things got started, she almost certainly wouldn't be able to effectively control the animal anymore - the required focus would flee her mind in a hurry. So she'd have to simply let the horny beast have its way, driven by the unnatural lust she'd instilled in it...

For now, though, she still had enough control to guide the donkey quite carefully, letting him ease his way forwards so that his blunt cockhead just barely touched her pussy-mound. Reaching down, she pulled her labia apart, thrilling at the feeling of the warm, throbbing, distinctly male flesh that now rubbed against her sensitive insides, and the knowledge that Placi had just as fine a view of this as she'd had earlier... though a somewhat harder time pleasuring himself, to put it mildly. With a moan of growing need, she relaxed her control over the donkey... prompting it to immediately surge forwards, driven by natural instincts and unnatural lust, impaling her in one swift, powerful movement.

The thrust practically drove the air from her lungs, drawing a gasp of pleasure from her lips. The thick, hot cock filled her abdomen completely, or so it felt - the tip rubbed forcefully against her cervix, while the raised ring that marked the start of the creature's sheath nudged her widely-stretched labia. This sensation lasted only for a moment, though - much like his larger cousin, this donkey clearly had no interest in letting her adjust to the size of the penetration he provided, preferring to get this whole thing over with on the double, so as soon as he had tested the depth of her pussy, he began to test its durability instead.

Powerful, equine haunches flexed, pouring thrusts into her rapid-fire, making her moan and lift her hips to meet them - feeling her whole groin heat up from the friction, even as the first orgasm began to build inside of her. The donkey, though, was faster still - within just a couple of minutes, she could feel his cockhead begin to flare inside of her, even as his thrusts stilled - stretching her insides even further than before, and creating a remarkably tight seal within her. That was, of course, the point - for moments later, a torrent of hot donkey-cum poured into her womb, filling it rapidly.

Like Wolfsbane the Stallion before him, however, this donkey wasn't allowed to finish so quickly. The magically-induced lust still filled his dim mind, keeping his cock hard and his priorities focused on rutting. So as soon as he had finished emptying his balls, it was right back to fucking her - now with the still-flared cockhead scraping along her insides, adding even more potent stimulation to the ride... and pushing her swiftly towards her own orgasm. It wouldn't take long at this rate... and going by how the stallion had performed earlier, it'd take noticeably longer for the donkey to reach each successive climax. Moaning, she felt the first waves of ecstasy begin to wash over her...

Soon, she'd lost track of both the orgasms and the time - simply writhing and panting under the rutting beast as the pleasure soaked into her body. It was only the growing pain in her belly that snapped her out of it. The donkey's flared cockhead no longer seemed to be a truly tight seal - she could feel his cum squirting out between his shaft and her tautly-stretched labia every time he thrust into her, just as she'd observed earlier with Placi and the stallion - but it was still a solid enough barrier to leave her womb heavily inflated, forming an aching bulge on her belly. Every thrust drove the previous cum-loads before it, compacting the hot, slimy substance and thus increasing the pressure within - giving her a painful jolt.

With the focus this granted her, she reasserted her control over the animal, forcing it to stop thrusting and instead back up, pulling out altogether. The aching pressure immediately dropped, and she could feel the until-then trapped loads begin to ooze from her throbbing pussy in loud glugs. The fading pain and the knowledge that Placi would be seeing this firsthand, however, quickly reinforced her desires, making her lick her dried lips and halt the donkey's retreat. Still trapped between his legs, she turned over, spinning in place - pushing her bloated belly into the mattress beneath and thus causing the flow of escaping cum to increase significantly.

Reaching back, she pulled her buttocks open - and ordered the donkey forwards again. His flared cockhead pushed against her sphincter, smooth and slick with his cum and her juices, offering a far more difficult entry than Placi's tapered wolf-cock. She knew it would hurt, at least at first, but she didn't care anymore. She needed to try that thick, long, equine cock in her ass too. The donkey, for his part, had no hesitation - as soon as she relaxed her mental grip on him and let his unnaturally-boosted instincts take over again, he thrust forwards with a hoarse braying and the full weight of his sturdy body behind it.

It hurt, all right - reminding her of that first time with Placi, of taking his knot fully. And that was all it reminded her of, she realized with vague, lust-drenched satisfaction as she groaned under the rutting donkey, enjoying the feeling of its huge cock pushing deeper inside her intestines despite the sharp pain in her sphincter. Soon, even that faded, and she returned to a place of dizzying pleasure and frequent orgasms, while the donkey's powerful thrusts sent shockwaves through her gaping pussy and inflated womb.

Even more so than a horse, a donkey is a creature of great stamina and endurance. With his virility reinforced to the point of being inexhaustible, this thus proved to be the final, eventual limit for this lengthy mating. It was when his thrusts began to slow and grow shaky, his breathing quick and labored, that Serana returned from the orgasmic peaks to plain old Tamriel and reluctantly gave the magically-controlled beast new orders.

As the wheezing donkey backed up, pulled out and climbed off the bed, Serana rolled over and sat up with a groan, feeling the gallons of hot cum he'd pumped into her guts begin to drain out her gaping asshole. Grinning, she caressed the beast's sweaty forehead. "I think your name will be 'Loverboy'..." she declared, before ordering him over to wait by the door. Then, finally, she turned her eyes down to Placi. He was still kneeling just where she'd left him, of course - eyes wide and almost feverish, face flushed and red. Just as she'd figured, he hadn't been able to look away from that depraved display, any more than she ever had. His cock was hard as steel, bobbing between his legs with every beating of his heart, and below it, his balls looked vaguely swollen.

Reaching out to the enchantment she'd poured into the restraining bar that currently lay against his spine, she made it release the lowest set of leather manacles, freeing his ankles. "Did you enjoy watching your Mistress use an animal to satisfy her needs, pet?" she purred, knowing that the gag would prevent him from responding. "You certainly seem a bit... backed up right now. Well, if you don't mind picking up a donkey's sloppy seconds, go ahead and get that dick of yours wet - it's the only way you'll be able to feel my holes until your work here is done. Though of course, you won't find any release regardless..." Leaning back, she spread her legs again, showing him the cum that still oozed from both of her cored-out, freshly-fucked holes.

Staggering to his feet despite legs that had to be cramping after so long locked in a kneeling position, Placi wasted no time rushing the bed, dick swaying before him like a ship's prow. Clearly driven by sheer, unreasoning lust and panting around his gag, he fell on her - humping wildly as he thrust his aching cock into her already cum-packed pussy, moving as vigorously as he possibly could despite his still-bound arms. Giggling at this display of passion, she let him carry on as long as he desired - managing to reach one more slow, languid orgasm from it, despite the rather loose conditions of her pussy at that point.

In the end he simply collapsed on top of her, hips still twitching, drool running from the corners of his forcibly-opened mouth. The rings that had so tightly clamped shut around the root of his cock and the top of his sack had done their job - preventing him from ejaculating despite his best efforts. Having largely recovered by then, Serana simply pushed him off at that point, then rose to remove the restraining rod that still bound his wrists, as well as the gag. "When you're done lazing about, take Loverboy back out to his pen..." she said casually as she stepped over to the wash-basin to rinse off her rather sticky inner thighs before she got dressed again. "Once you've done that, I'll remove the plug and the top ring... but the lower one stays, until you've finished your work."

This, then, became the new, daily life in the half-finished estate. Serana studied to expanded her magical arsenal and enchanting-skills, while Placi labored tirelessly on crafting a new set of gear for himself. The ring that had been clamped shut around his ballsack remained in place throughout, as did the upper ring that surrounded the base of his cock - though this, at least, was loosened enough that it didn't force him to get hard or prevent him from peeing, most of the time. Then, every evening, she would march him out to the stables and finally remove both rings, while he shifted into his werewolf-form lubricated Wolfbane's huge horse-cock with his tongue.

These rides generally didn't last as long as the first one had - she didn't want to leave the stallion that exhausted on the regular - but conversely, Placi went into each and every one of these sessions_extremely_ backed-up... leading him to actually cum just from the rough massage of his innards that the horse-cock provided, much to Serana's arousal and amusement. Not that this prevented her from invariably milking an extra load from him at the end of the session, just as Wolfsbane followed up the cumloads that had gone before with the full contents of his bladder - either using her Spark-spell or, if he'd been suitably good, her hand.

The resulting slurry of cum and piss was then sealed in his guts, even as the twin rings were tightened into place once more - and a few minutes later, he'd then find himself locked into a kneeling position as he watched Loverboy the Donkey ream her pussy and ass alike. One change, though, was that she didn't bother with the gag again - it wasn't as if he was going to complain, or indeed do much more than occasionally groan... and this way, she could have him lean in and prepare her ass once she'd had enough pussy-fucking from the well-hung donkey. Having her sphincter first relaxed and lubricated by his skillful tongue greatly reduced the pain of the initial penetration, not to mention adding an extra twist of humiliation...

Afterwards, as established, he'd have the opportunity of fucking her as much as he liked - with the caveat that his arms remained tied behind his back, and of course that both of her available holes were gaping craters filled with donkey-cum at that point. Considering how effectively the rings prevented him from reaching a climax, this part was more of a self-induced torment than anything else. Finally, once Loverboy had been returned to his pen - tired but satisfied - the plug would be removed and the upper ring loosened, allowing her submissive pet to empty his aching guts and bladder. His balls, however, would remain painfully full until the next evening's horse-fucking.

There was one more subtle touch to it, though. After all, the donkey-fucking part of the evening inevitably took place on the large double bed in the master bedroom. At first, they'd slept there together - but since she'd gotten a suitable coffin delivered at the same time as the stallion and the donkey, she now slept in the basement, resting within that dark enclosure. That left him to rest in the bed alone... atop the large wet spot that Loverboy's free-flowing cum inevitably deposited there. Indeed, the whole room had soon come to smell rather noticeably of animal musk and donkey-sweat. Even in his dreams, he would not escape the reminders of his position...

As intended, this all led to Placi applying himself to his smithing with_great_ determination and focus. Seeing him hammer away at the forge in the basement, sharpening his craft even as he sharpened practice-blade after practice-blade, making each a little better than the one that came before, Serana too felt quite motivated. Of course, she also felt a bit frustrated. In spite of Loverboy's best efforts and huge cock, she didn't really feel satisfied by her daily session with him. She missed feeling Placi's knot seal shut her ass while he fucked her with incredible speed, or his human-form cock slide through her tightly-clutching labia while she watched his face screw up into a grimace of unspeakable ecstasy.

It was easy, at first, to consider this a purely visceral desire - she'd grown accustomed to a certain kind of sexual stimulation, and was now going without it... of course she'd crave it a bit, no? However, there remained one aspect of their relationship that was largely unchanged, and this made it difficult to convince herself that the sexual play was all she was missing: Feeding. Every day, Placi offered up his throat to her - while in his human form, lest she get fur stuck between her teeth - and she sank her fangs into it, suckling on his warm, salty blood. Every time, the wild, vibrant flavor of it made her swoon... but there was more to it than that.

The Feeding, especially now that it had become somewhat codified as part of their daily routine, had become an intensely intimate act. She didn't really drink that much - not enough to really weaken him, just a mouthful or two - but every time, she felt the beating of his hurried pulse against her tongue, his heart beating fast as she embraced him, flattening her tits against his chest. It was a touching gesture of trust and devotion, of course - he literally put his life in her hands on a daily basis, setting no limits, but simply trusting that she wouldn't drink more than he could handle... nor simply tear out his throat with her fangs.

The taste of blood on her tongue, the rush of power and confidence it gave her as it flowed down her throat, heightened her senses and quickened her mind. It made her feel acutely aware of the fact that, while his pulse was accelerated, it was not out of fear... but arousal. He delighted in offering himself to her in this fashion, he was happy to be her sole source of sustenance... indeed, outside of the old Moth-Priest, where it had been a necessity for anchoring the charm-spell to his mind, she had fed on no other since that first time he'd offered her the chance to drink from him.

With the current limitations on how and when he could fuck her, the Feeding became even more distinctly intimate - a fact she felt just as keenly as he no doubt did. As she stood there, fangs buried in his neck, feeling her whole body respond to his taste, his self, it was difficult to tell herself that he was just a pet, just a living sex-toy. That she wast just using him as a weapon in order to challenge her insane father, fulfilling his desires by way of recompense. That she did not, in fact, love him. That the very idea of a life where he wasn't constantly by her side didn't fill her with a dread that cut deeper than any blade or claw could hope to.

To fight off these thoughts as well as the temptation to call off the current 'arrangement' prematurely, she thus applied herself wholeheartedly to her own training. Steadily, she expanded her mastery of the much-feared discipline of Conjuring, applying what she'd learned from studying the Sanguine Rose to it - and ultimately, after several days of preparation, taking the leap and attempting to use it all. Hence, atop a carefully-inscribed pentagram, she worked her magic and summoned a Dremora... an _unbound_Dremora, confined only by the circle that surrounded it. The demonic being looked around at her laboratory with narrowed eyes, a smoldering greatsword in his fist, and growled at her - clearly in no hurry to submit to her will.

Which suited her just fine. She wasn't looking to browbeat this being into obedience - not this time. Negotiation, rather, was the name of the game. "There is no need to scowl so fiercely..." she said softly as she began to strip off her clothes, causing the Dremora to pause his testing of the pentagram's integrity to look at her thoughtfully. "For unless I wrought awry, you are a servant of Lord Sanguine, are you not?" As if to emphasize this question, she threw her top aside - to land on the Sanguine Rose that stood in a specially-crafted holder nearby, turning this potent, Daedric artifact into a simple clothes-rack. Though, under the circumstances, she suspected that Sanguine, Daedric Prince of Debauchery and Dark Desires, would probably approve.

The Daedra before her seemed to agree, whistling quietly as he spotted the staff. "Lord Sanguine's staff... I had heard that he'd bestowed it on a worthy mortal recently..." he commented smoothly, the earlier growl entirely gone from his voice - even as his threatening body-language faded. His eyes were speculative as they rested on her again, and his ebon brow wrinkled in apparent confusion. "The Sanguine Rose in your hand..." he mumbled, raising an eyebrow. "And yet, I smell the touch of Molag Bal on you as well... and even... Hircine?"

She chuckled, shrugging off her trousers as well, standing naked before the demon. "I get around. Do you suppose Sanguine would mind?"_Her voice was sweet, and the Dremora laughed - letting the greatsword vanish from his hand with a flick of his wrist. "Not by half, no!" he declared merrily. "So, you who is favored by so many of the Princes - to what purpose have you summoned me?" Eagerly, she stepped closer - letting her hips sway invitingly. "I would have your aid, Dremora. By way of a bargain, rather than by forcing your submission. Not that I _mind making men submit, as such..."

He snorted with laughter at this - as lighthearted as one would expect of a Dremora who followed and served the Lord of Hedonism. "Very well then, mortal - speak your bargain!" He declared magnanimously. "I will hear you out, at least." Nodding, she stopped just before the invisible barrier of the magic circle, and stretched seductively. "It is simple, really. I will call upon you whenever I desire - but not to fight for me. Rather, for_sexual_ services only. For myself or others, as the case may be... I assume you know how to wield your main weapon as well as you do that sword you were carrying, hmm?"

Grinning eagerly, he gestured towards his groin - causing his codpiece to vanish into thin air, and revealing the 'weapon' in question. She could not tear her eyes away from it for a few seconds as it flopped out - still soft, but showing great promise. It was very nearly as large as Loverboy's cock, making it look monstrous on his otherwise human frame - but nobody was going to mistake it for a human tool regardless. It was as ebony-black as the rest of him, and lined from top to bottom with half a dozen overlapping ridges, each marked with blood-red coloration. At the base, rather than pubic-hair, a ring of spikes could be seen surrounding the root, ready to 'caress' the labia or sphincter of his target at full penetration. It looked like... an experience. "I have received no complaints about my skills..." the Dremora commented dryly, clearly aware of how fixated her attention was at the moment. "At least, no_coherent_ ones."

She nodded, attention still rapt. "That will do just fine, I think." Grinning, he thrust his hips out obscenely. "Excellent. Now, as for payment..." He began, voice smooth. Serana, however, quickly shook off her mesmerized state and raised her gaze to look him in the eye, smiling seductively. "Oh, I won't ask for anything in return..." she quickly interjected, eyes sparkling with mirth. "I'm not that kind of girl, you know." As she'd hoped, this snappy comeback made the Dremora break down in gales of laughter, before straightening up with a snicker. "Oh, I like your spirit, mortal... I think I can understand what Lord Sanguine saw in you now."

Serana just smiled. Clearly, this Daedra was operating under the assumption that she was the one who had been granted the Sanguine Rose, and while outright lying about that probably wouldn't be a good idea... just letting him go on assuming that seemed fairly safe. "I am flattered..." she thus said out loud. "But, for the sake of honesty, I suppose I ought to mention that I do have some long-term plans that might appeal to your Lord. Assuming, that is, that he's interested in thumbing his nose at one of his less pleasant peers, hmm?" From there, it was down to brass tacks, with offers and counter-offers swapped back and forth, until finally, a bargain was struck. "I - and my 'weapon of choice' - is at your disposal, then..." the Dremora finally declared, bowing from the hip.

A snap of his fingers made his entire suit of intimidating Daedric armor disappear, to be replaced by an 'outfit' that probably ran closer to what passed for casual everydaywear in the Myriad Realms of Revelry - an assortment of black leather straps and gleaming metal rings that concealed little and emphasized a lot. Serana, meanwhile, looked it over with eager eyes, finding herself wondering how such an ensemble might look on Placi. "Excellent..." she replied, licking her lips. "Now, do you have a name, Dremora?" The daedric creature snorted. "Our kind have little need for such things - though those who take up long-term residence in your world or otherwise interact with mortals extensively sometimes _do_adopt a local moniker." With a thoughtful expression, he shrugged. "If you would find it convenient for me to have a name, feel free to provide me with one..."

A naughty smile spread across Serana's face. "A name for you, hmm? Well, 'Loverboy' is already taken, I'm afraid... so how about 'Dildo'?" Despite a twitching of the corners of his mouth, the Dremora still managed to deliver a censorious glare. "I'm going to have to veto that one..." he remarked dryly. "I do_know Nibenese, after all." Letting the smile turn into a grin, she shrugged. "Oh, well, if you're going to be difficult about it... fine, then. Your name is now Ebon Everhard. I trust you have no objections to _that?" He did not. Indeed, for being part of a species that had 'little need of such things', he seemed inordinately fond of his new name.

"Well, then - how can Ebon Everhard assist you, my lady?" He asked, thrusting his groin out suggestively. Keeping her smile in place, Serana steadied her nerves and carefully maintained a confident demeanor as she answered him. "Oh, in a great many ways, I'm sure... but first of all, I require your aid in developing a new skill." He raised an inquisitive eyebrow at this, and she quickly carried on, doing her best not to let any nervousness show. "I would like to learn the ways of... well, giving head. I have never had the opportunity to practice such arts, you see... my fangs tend to scare the men away." She grinned more widely, showing off her vampiric canines.

Of course, the simpler truth was that she'd had no interest in any_aspect of sexuality until she'd sampled Placi's werewolf-blood... and after that, as the one in charge of their relationship, had little occasion to indulge in such a variant. Now that she'd started to feel like she rather _wanted to, however, she'd realized that she couldn't bear to just start practicing on Placi - showing off her complete and utter lack of skill in that department. Somehow, that would put a big chink in her self-image as his infallible Mistress... and possibly in his view of her as well!

So, a different practice-partner was needed - preferably someone who had a bit of background knowledge to draw on - and Ebon Everhard seemed more than happy to assist. "You are in luck, my lady!" he crowed. "I have sampled the services of some of Oblivion's finest fellators - after all, the Myriad Realms of Revelry are the final destination of those whose drive towards debauchery lead them to worship Lord Sanguine!" Gesturing towards his groin, where his huge, black-and-red tool by now stood hard and proud in keeping with his name, he grinned at her. "By all means, sample what I have to offer - I will provide instructions and corrections as needed..."

Thus, Serana had opened a new field of study. Her arcane studies continued, of course, as she deepened her skills with applied magic, enchanting, and alchemy alike... but she also carried on her training with Ebon on a daily basis, gradually growing more comfortable with the feeling of a hard, meaty rod filling her mouth and pushing into her throat. Applying suction, using her tongue to its fullest, twisting her head - even more cerebral tricks such as looking up to maintain eye-contact with her partner while she worked. Cum-eating, of course, was part of the curriculum as well - either just feeling the hot, slimy sensation flow into her stomach as she deepthroated him, or actually tasting his seed as he came in her mouth. The sperm of a Dremora proved to have a strong, savory flavor with spicy undertones - though her teacher was quick to assure her that she could expect the ejaculate of most mortal beings to be more salty-bitter. "You are a natural, my lady!" Ebon soon assured her. "Though, I suppose the fact that you don't actually need to breathe is somewhat like cheating."

In the end, they wound up spending a bit more than three weeks in the estate, and though it was only during the later half of this that she had access to Ebon's services, this still gave Serana enough time to develop some fairly solid dick-sucking skills... and, of course, sharpen up her magical abilities, particularly in the field of Conjuring but also in Destruction-magic to a point. Daily equine intercourse throughout this span of time also served to train up both Placi's beleaguered asshole and her own - Loverboy's thick cock no longer carried with it an initial sting of pain as it pushed through her sphincter, prompting her to taunt Placi that if he let this carry on much longer, his knotted cock would no longer be able to tie with, and thus satisfy, her.

By the same token, Placi's own ass grew steadily more accustomed to Wolfbane's far larger cock - with the king-sized penetration clearly growing steadily less painful and, to her surprise, deeper. Spending twenty-odd minutes getting his insides hammered by the heavy stallion's non-stop thrusts was apparently serving to rearrange his insides to some degree, straightening his innards in order to accommodate more inches of wrist-thick horse cock. Towards the end, he was taking both the bulging ring and most of the leathery sheath beyond it, leaving him with a truly balls-deep penetration - and a noticeable bulge on the left side of his fuzzy belly where the arm-long intrusion, pulled sideways by the curvature of his guts, pressed against it from the inside.

She never really got tired of watching it - particularly not of the thrill of power she felt whenever she forced him to cum while the stallion's piss poured into his guts, displaying his utter submission. Nor did she exactly get tired of feeling Loverboy's thick, powerful cock pound her pussy and ass alike, inducing orgasm after spine-curling orgasm. But at the same time, she never stopped missing the 'regular' sex she'd previously had with Placi - so when he finally bowed before her and humbly declared that he'd finished his work, she was elated.

Nor did the product of his labors disappoint. It was like something out of myths and legends - a full set of armor forged from_dragonscale_... gleaned from the occasional encounters with dragons they'd had along their various journeys, and apparently a few from before they met. The armor, while noticeably heavier than the steel-reinforced leather-and-fur armor he'd been wearing before, was still far lighter than full iron or steel armor would've been, and remained flexible enough to allow him to move freely. It also included a magnificent-looking shield made from the same material, and a fearsome - and razor-sharp - sword forged from dragonbone.

The next step would be for her to put her own growing talents to use, enchanting these newly-crafted pieces to further enhance their potency - but first... "You've done well - good boy!" She joyfully declared, petting his head after first removing the imposing dragonscale helmet he'd been showing off. "And good boys deserve a reward... put that fancy armor aside, and join me in the bedroom, hmm? Without Loverboy, this time..." This concept unsurprisingly seemed to fill Placi with enormous eagerness, prompting the priceless, hard-won armor to go flying off with remarkable speed.

In the bedroom, he made no objections as she pushed him down to his knees and bound him to the restraining-rod again - collar, wrists and ankles alike. Then, the rarely-used gag. Naked and unarmored now, his cock was standing proud - hard and veiny - as it awaited her attention. Before it received it, though, she had one last trick to show him... the rod, after all, had a feature she hadn't used up to this point. A loop at the top... which fit well enough with a sturdy hook set into the bedroom wall. Her control over the Sanguine Grip power that came from her vampiric bloodline was great enough by now that she could lift him bodily with it, eyes widening, and mount him on the hook before slowly releasing him...

She'd designed the restraints with this final touch in mind, of course - ensuring that most of his weight would wind up resting on his ankles, with a bit more on his wrists. This, of course, pulled them painfully upwards... but it was only thanks to this that there wasn't enough mass resting on his collar to fully strangle him. Just enough to squeeze his his windpipe _half-_closed, making him wheeze through the gag as his eyes bugged out. All the same, his cock still stood tall and hard, poking out from his groin like a peg for hanging clothes on.

Kneeling before it, she glanced at the rings. The one pinching shut the top of his sack was there, of course, as it had been for weeks - and the balls beneath it noticeably swollen, as they tended to be at this time of day. He'd had no release since the previous evening, after all. Above it, the other ring hung looser - still tight enough to be a presence of which he'd no doubt be constantly aware, but not so much as to force an erection or deny him the ability to pee. He was only allowed to fuck her when that ring was fully tightened - the pressure that built at such a point might not have been effectively restrained by just the single ring, after all. Casually, she reached out and clamped it fully shut, pinching the base of his cock and making the shaft above even harder and veinier than before.

Then, she went to work - finally applying everything that Ebon Everhard had taught her on the intended target. Placi's currently-human cock was different than the Dremora's in several ways, after all - it was smaller in both length and girth, had a more distinctive head, and lacked the hard, rippled ridges of the deadric cock she'd studied with. She'd tried to account for such differences during her practice, and Ebon had also done his best to instruct her about how to please cock-types different from his own, but actually _feeling_it between her lips, rubbing against her tongue, was another matter entirely.

She had to adapt to it - carefully considering the exact differences and adjusting her technique accordingly. There was also the flavor to get used to - cum aside, it was notably different from what Ebon's cock tasted like, with a more salty, sweaty, musky kind of flavor. And maybe just a hint of something bitter underneath, now that she really thought about it, running her tongue over the smooth cockhead and digging it under the foreskin - another new thing she needed to adapt to. Was it a tiny trace of pee that hadn't been wiped off properly, or perhaps just a hint of the donkey-cum it had been marinating in when he fucked her last night?

Bit by bit, she gained surety in her movements, and applied more and more of her lessons. Her slender-fingered hands got involved too, pumping the lower parts of the shaft whenever she wasn't deepthroating him, gently massaging his swollen ballsack, or sneaking further back to caress his sphincter or even slip a couple of spit-whetted fingers inside his increasingly loose asshole to add some extra stimulation back there. She made full use of her 'cheat' - pushing her head forwards to invite the hard shaft all the way down her gullet, rubbing her lips against the cold metal of the ring that surrounded the root, while letting her throat-muscles forcefully massage his full length for far longer than any mortal woman could've held her breath. Even the experienced Ebon Everhard tended to start hissing and curling his spine when she pulled this trick on him for a few minutes.

She kept it up for ten full minutes, while making full use of her hands in the meantime - both squeezing his balls and letting her fingers dig into his ass, seeking a particular point. Ebon had told her about it - some internal gland or whatnot that was directly connected to both the balls and the cock, and therefore could make a man cum if it was stimulated appropriately - this, likely, was how Placi had managed to climax just from Wolfbane's thick stallion-tool all those times. Considering how backed up he was these days, it'd be swollen no doubt - making it easy for her to find, as indeed she did. Rubbing it, pushing against it... adding a whole new dimension to the pleasure he'd be enjoying. Or, perhaps, enduring.

In total, she went at it for about an hour, with steadily-growing confidence and skill as the minutes ticked by. Only then, once she felt like she'd given a suitable demonstration of everything she'd spent the last week or two learning, did she do that _last_thing that Ebon had taught her was an important part of the experience - looking up to meet her partner's eyes, a lustful twinkle in her own. Placi's, meanwhile, were bugging out of his skull, glazed over and unfocused. His face was beet-red and drenched in sweat, while strings of drool dangled from his lips and the gag, which by now had some distinct bite-marks in it from the looks of things.

Pulling her head back, she released his throbbing-hard cock from between her lips with a slight plop sound, leaving a string of drool connecting the two for a moment before it snapped. "My, it doesn't look like you're enjoying this as much as you ought..." she said with faked bemusement. "Could it be that I... forgot something?" The only reply was a hoarse groan wheezing out around the gag. Giggling, she fondled his swollen ballsack, squeezing it hard enough to make him hiss in pain - not that this took all that much pressure, considering how sore it obviously was at that moment.

"There is a point to this, you know..." she remarked conversationally, letting the fingers of her other hand caress the cold metal of the rings that bound his cock and balls alike so tightly. "I want you to understand that even though you've weathered this particular_trial, I'm not about to start going easy on you. In fact, I'm only going to come up with _more ways to torment and humiliate you. I will make you squirm, whine, whimper, sob, and occasionally howl in pain. I will punish any mistake cruelly of course, but even if you have done nothing wrong, I'll still subject you to... well, things like this." She gave his balls another painful squeeze to make it clear what she was talking about.

"I simply want you to understand what it means to be my property. What you should expect from sticking with me." Lowering her head, she gave the very tip of his cock a quick lick, sending a tremor down through the whole shaft. "Fact is, watching you writhe under my heel is just as much fun as feeling your cock pounding my pussy... and I intend to indulge in both pleasures whenever I feel like it." With this final message, she closed her lips around his cockhead again... and, with a deft twist of her fingers, unlatched both of the steel rings, letting them fall to the floor with a clatter.

She barely had time to start applying her oral skills again before he started cumming. It was incredibly thick, with a strong flavor - and every bit as salty-bitter as she had been warned of. Not bad, really - and he clearly hadn't been anything less than impressed by the skills she'd developed. She let it flow over her tongue and down her throat - before pushing forwards and letting his cockhead follow it down, once again applying her superhuman deepthroat-talent to its fullest. After being teased for so long, a single load wouldn't be enough of course - not hardly. So she kept going, determined to milk him dry, letting spurt after spurt pour directly down her gullet to form a warm, slimy lake in her belly.

With expert suction and tongue-work, she quickly pushed him from orgasm to orgasm, until - after about half a dozen loads - the flow finally stopped and his cock began to droop. Glancing up, she saw that he'd relaxed completely in his bonds - just hanging there loosely, despite his still-constrained throat, and staring adoringly down at her. The build-up from weeks without actual sex had been cleared, and if her little speech had managed to turn him away from her, it certainly wasn't showing.

Once she'd lifted him off the peg he was dangling from and removed his restraints, he promptly fell at her feet - mumbling various expressions of gratitude and reaffirmations of his intent to stay by her side forever. "Still saying that, puppy?" She teased, lifting his chin with the toe of her boot. "Even after I made my intentions clear? Then I won't hear any complaints from now on. You are my property, and I will use you as I see fit. Now, on your feet, pet!" Shakily, he obeyed - his legs no doubt badly cramped after spending so long in such severe restraints - and she glanced acidly at his cock. It remained noticeably turgid, but not truly hard- spent, for the moment, despite his obvious, continuing arousal.

"Well, that won't do..." she remarked, lips pursed and eyes lingering on the softened tool. "I want you inside of me tonight. Repeatedly, and in both holes, like always. So we'd better get you hardened up again, hmm?" Gesturing for him to follow, she headed out of the bedroom and started towards the front door, confidently pumping her hips. "Come, pup - Wolfsbane will be wondering where you've gotten off to by now. He'll get you firmed up in a hurry, I expect... oh, and this time, no wolf-form. I want to watch you take him as a human."

Serana spent most of the next day enchanting Placi's new armor and weapon to the best of her ability. The draconic materials proved unsurprisingly receptive to magic - enabling her to perform probably the best round of enchanting she'd ever managed. Various parts of the ensemble were infused with spells that would bolster the wearer's vitality, agility, accuracy and strength - while the shield's ability to absorb impacts was likewise enhanced. The sword, meanwhile, she charged with something no ordinary enchanter could have provided it with - a potent, vampiric Life Drain spell that would, to some degree, allow Placi to draw on the vitality of his enemies in order to heal his own wounds, just as she routinely did.

As for Placi himself, he was finding it difficult to walk, or indeed_stand_, after the previous night's events. Thus, he spent the day recuperating... specifically, he spent it kneeling at his Mistress' feet, legs spread so that she could tease his still-sore cock with her toes whenever she felt like it. Anytime she needed a break from the taxing focus of the enchantments - or a chance to empty her bladder, for that matter - she needed only spread her thighs and let him dive in, eagerly providing her with a relaxing pussy-licking for as long as she'd let him.

Come evening, the equipment was all ready - shimmering with arcane might and potential - while she was very ready to have something more substantial than a tongue visit her holes. After drinking her supper fresh from Placi's throat, she ordered him to retrieve Loverboy once again - which, despite the obvious implications, he promptly did without any show of reluctance. Mind, this time, Placi himself wasn't going to be mere audience...

Thus, once the three of them were together in the bedroom, Serana proceeded to command her two pets - one controlled by magic, and the other by far stronger chains - to double-team her in a variety of different ways. It seemed wise to let Placi's asshole recover for a while longer - it had mostly returned to its normal shape by then, but considering the amount of blood that had decorated Wolfsbane's cock the previous night, there'd definitely been some modest tearing deeper inside, and even with a werewolf's rapid healing, that would take time to repair. Hence, Placi would contribute purely with his cock - something he seemed to have no complaints about.

Sucking Placi's cock while Loverboy's freshly-lubricated donkey-cock was busy pounding her asshole represented an interesting challenge - focusing on the right techniques was a lot more difficult when a potent anal orgasm was building in her gut at the same time. Meanwhile, being caught between the donkey's gray-coated belly and Placi's hairy chest as they rammed her pussy and ass at the same time was an intense experience, and one she had every intention of repeating in the future - in one way or another. What really stuck with her, though, was the sure knowledge that even as she was busy getting fucked halfway insensible, she remained unquestioningly in charge. They weren't using her body - she was using theirs, and their pumping hips were driven less by instinctive mating-urges and more by a deep need to satisfy her.

The capstone of the night involved making Loverboy roll over on his back on the floor so that she could, in turn, mount him for a change - riding his thick, hard, equine cock while Placi shifted to his werewolf-form and took her ass. Since it had been freshly stretched out by Loverboy over the course of the previous few positions, his knot couldn't tie properly there, the way it had in the past... but instead, on her orders, he could now fuck her with his full length, driving his knot in and out along with the shaft on every thrust, even as it swelled. Every time the thick bulge pushed through her sphincter, it generated a brief burst of pain - but when combined with the sensation of the ongoing double-fuck, that pain became nothing more than a delectable spice on top of the main course.

After she had worn out both of them, and Loverboy had been led back out to his pen, she spent some time just cuddling with Placi on the bed - which, admittedly, smelled rather strongly of donkey by then. It was... nice, she decided, especially with him in his werewolf-form still, making him extra-cuddly. It was only when he shifted back to human - signalling that he'd fallen asleep, and thus relaxed too much to maintain his lupine form - that she left the bed behind and headed back down to the basement to rest in her coffin. It'd probably be a while before she got the opportunity to do so again, after all, and she needed to be alert and energetic for tomorrow.

The next day, they packed up and left. With Placi's new gear ready and two Elder Scrolls in her pack, it was high time they got back to business. Supplies were packed up, the house locked up, and Wolfsbane saddled. Even if that wasn't the purpose he'd been purchased for in the first place, having a horse on hand should make their travels from here onward a fair bit faster - the main reason they hadn't acquired a suitable mount before was the fact that any reasonable horse would bolt the first time Placi shifted into his werewolf-form nearby, after all. But, with Serana's new Command Creature spell - which she was growing steadily more skilled at wielding - that wasn't really a concern. If they came under attack, she'd simply start by casting that on Wolfsbane, commanding the stallion to back off to a safe distance and stay there while they dealt with the trouble at hand. Of course, it seemed likely that they'd be enduring a lot fewer random ambushes from bandits and barbarians now - Placi's new armor rather loudly marked him as someone not to be messed with, after all, so most sensible individuals would likely be smart enough to seek easier prey.

Bringing Loverboy along as well was out of the question, alas. The donkey was a sturdy sort and probably capable of carrying great burdens if needed, but they were traveling light, and his short, stubby legs would slow their pace intolerably. Fortunately, they were able to work out a deal with a local farmer, a bit down the road, who was happy to look after him for a while and provide for his feed in return for a few coins and the right to make use of his labor. Serana had clear intentions of returning to the estate at some later date, when everything had been sorted out, and she wanted Loverboy to be waiting for her then - safe and healthy.

With all that sorted, they set off. Wolfsbane carried them both easily, being a rather muscular sort of stallion - and riding in Placi's arms, feeling his scaly codpiece shift against her buttocks, was rather nice too. Certainly helped ensure that she was quite thoroughly ready to get down and dirty by the time they stopped for the night - camping out in the wilds for the first time in weeks. This, then, was when she introduced Placi to their new on-demand traveling companion - Ebon Everhard, whom she could summon with a quick spell from anywhere on Tamriel, ready to provide a variety of non-combat services.

Placi took the appearance of a scantly-clad Dremora in stride, uncritically accepting her assurance that the demonic creature was bound to her will - or, at least, to the bargain they had struck - and the ensuing threesome was both pleasurable and enlightening. Having both holes filled simultaneously was certainly a sensation she could get used to, and it was even better now that she'd managed to tighten up enough for Placi's werewolf-cock to tie with her again. Better yet, when she subsequently had him lick her oozing pussy while Ebon took him from behind - something he, for his part, seemed to have no issue with whatsoever - she finally got the clue she needed to nail down why Placi had always seemed to unconsciously focus on humanoid opponents rather than animal ones when they fought.

It wasn't that he had some particular love of being fucked by animals, no - rather, he just seemed particularly discomfited by being fucked by a humanoid, be it a straight-up human or, as in this case, a Dremora. She could tell by the way his tongue got just a bit jerky while Ebon was going at him - not to mention his cock seeming to sag and twitch between his legs, as if it couldn't quite decide whether to stay hard or go soft. Silently, Serana made a mental record of this, and the next time she summoned Ebon, it was purely for her own use. There was no sense rubbing the only sore spot she'd ever found on him, after all.

Thanks to Wolfsbane - and Placi's armor scaring off anything smarter than a troll - they made excellent time on their way back to Castle Volkihar. Walking through the front door carrying the two carefully-concealed Elder Scrolls was rather... frazzling, but with her customary confidence, Serana didn't let it get to her. Instead, she gave the doorman a censorious glare as he saw her and opened his mouth, causing it to slam shut again. It was a gaze that had loudly declared "Why, yes, I'm coming back empty-handed after weeks of searching, shut up!" - after all, why stop at just lying with your mouth?

Fortunately, since it was Serana herself who had bound and enslaved the old Moth-Priest, it was easy enough for her to draw him away from the more populated parts of the castle, to somewhere nice and secluded where he could... apologetically tell her that due to not preparing properly before he'd read the first Elder Scroll, he'd now gone blind and could not read any more of them. This was worthy of a heartfelt groan, but all was not lost - the Moth-Priest, eager to find forgiveness in the eyes of his Mistress, was quick to suggest an alternative. Apparently, the Moth-Priests got their names from a rare insect, the Ancestor Moths, and if one were to visit one of the secluded glades they were found in and performed the right ritual, even a layperson would be able to successfully read an Elder Scroll... without going blind from it, ideally.

Fortunately, there was such an Ancestor Glade to be found within Skyrim. Less fortunately, it was near the southern border, at the exact opposite end of the region from the far-northern Castle Volkihar, and quite remarkably close to a certain isolated estate. After Serana had finished groaning at this news, they set off again - leaving the forbidding castle and crossing the Gargoyle-lined bridge, heading towards the boat that would take them back to the mainland and their waiting steed. As they did, however, Serana noticed a certain vague hesitation and concern in Placi - one that she now realized had lingered ever since she'd called the Moth-Priest aside for a quick talk.

It didn't take her long to realize what had left him so disquieted. Pausing in her stride, she turned to raise an eyebrow at him. "Thinking about our friend, the Moth-Priest?" she asked without preamble. "Of how he, too, calls me Mistress?" Placi stopped so suddenly that he almost fell over, his face blanching. His mouth opened and closed a few times, as if he was struggling with conflicting drives. On the one hand, he clearly did not want to admit to having doubts, but on the other, he did not want to lie to his Mistress. "It... may be preying on my mind a bit, Mistress." He finally admitted, refusing to meet her eyes.

Serana sighed and looked away, letting her eyes scan the barren wasteland and icy seas that surrounded Castle Volkihar. "I cannot blame you, pet..." she said quietly. "We vampires have the power to make slaves of men. That is a frightening ability indeed." She stood there silently for a moment, gathering her thoughts and turning them over in her head while Placi remained quiet by her side. "I could tell you, my dear puppy, that this particular talent is one I used for the first time when I needed the cooperation of that Moth-Priest, and indeed have not used since. Or that for all its potential, it is flawed, and useless against anyone who possesses a reasonably strong will. I was able to use it on the Moth-Priest because he was old and scared - against a battle-hardened warrior, it will barely cause a moment's hesitation, much less lifelong devotion."

Shrugging, she turned back to him - deliberately catching his eyes this time. "However, I might very well be lying on both counts. I fed on you, that day, after I had been wounded by the troll. There is no way to prove that I did not cast the requisite spell on you beforehand, turning that bite into a mark of obedience. Everything you have done since, including offering yourself up as a constant source of nourishment, could be solely due to such an implanted command. In the end... you are simply going to have to look inside of yourself, and decide whether your submission stems from some dark magic's grip on your soul, or from your heart."

For a moment, as her voice petered off, there was no sound save the whistling of the wind as it blew endlessly across the unobstructed expanse of the northern seas. Placi's eyes left hers, to gaze out at the same horizon she had been regarding earlier, his expression unreadable. Then he bowed. "I have, Mistress - and in truth, where this feeling comes from is irrelevant. It is undeniably there, and I cannot ignore it. Living at your feet, as your loyal pet, has granted me a happiness I never knew as a lone adventurer. Hence, my answer has not changed... I will follow you anywhere you choose to lead me."

With a sigh, Serana let a tension she hadn't even realized was there_leave her shoulders, and granted him a smile. "Good. Then let's be about it - we've got a long ride ahead of us!" She declared, and led the way towards the boat once more. For a moment, she'd been worried that he'd leave her, just to prove to himself that he _could. Perhaps this kind of thing was one of the reasons why her mother had cautioned her not to seek love among mortals, after they had been exalted to the ranks of the Daughters of Coldharbor... come to think of it, in retrospect, Valerica - unlike Harkon - had probably been aware of her secret tryst with the stable-boy, and been subtly warning her off resuming such a thing afterwards. Not that she'd had any interest in doing anything of the sort at the time... but, in the end, it was a mortal who had finally freed her of the trauma that the degradation of the ritual had left her with. So apparently the warning had been both warranted and futile after all.

Off they went again, across Skyrim on Wolfsbane's swift hooves. First to the Ancestor Glade to study the Elder Scrolls and divine their secrets - followed by another scuffle with the Dawnguard - and then towards the location they had revealed: Darkfall Cave, and beyond it, the Forgotten Vale that hid the Chantry of Auriel... and their prize, Auriel's Bow. Most of the trip was fairly uneventful - traveling through the wilds of Skyrim had become somewhat rote for them by then, after all, and with Placi's new gear, it became vanishingly rare for anything to get past him and take a stab at her. This meant no more 'penance'-sessions, but Serana didn't mind too much - after all, their nighttime entertainment had become somewhat more varied at this point than it used to be, ensuring that she wasn't short on entertainment regardless.

Sometimes, Serana would scout the surroundings for likely targets for her Command Creature spell, bringing something back for a bestial threesome, just like before - Placi's well-trained asshole was certainly able to handle anything she could throw at it by now. At other times, she would summon Ebon Everhard for a pleasurable double penetration or perhaps a 'spit-roasting' if she felt like practicing her oral arts. Of course, the two weren't necessarily mutually exclusive, either... and Ebon seemed both amused and aroused at the sight of Placi riding her while a mind-controlled animal mounted him in turn, which tended to spur him to greater performances.

On top of that, however, the fact that they had Wolfsbane along for the trip wasn't lost on either of them. So if there were no suitable animals to be found in the area, but she still felt like watching Placi offer up his ass for her amusement, the powerful stallion would be called into service once more. Only with Placi in his werewolf form, mind - while he had now demonstrated the ability to take it in human form without serious injury, they couldn't afford to let him spend a day or more recovering from something like that at this point. More importantly, this gave Serana her first opportunity to feel the stallion's potent thrusts, as they passed through Placi's body and into hers... and to watch his lupine face when the big horse mounted him. Both things she found quite arousing.

Unfortunately, they had to leave him behind at the entrance to the Darkfall Cave - there was no way they'd get him through there. They left him tied down on a long enough rope that he could drink from a nearby stream and graze on a wide area - along with leaving an open bag of feed for him - and cleared out all monsters and large predators they could find in the area, all of which would hopefully keep their faithful mount safe while they explored the cave and what lay beyond.

They soon found themselves missing him, alas. The Forgotten Vale proved to be large enough that having a horse on hand would've been convenient, and worse, the local wildlife - and other inhabitants - weren't much to Serana's tastes. There were loads of Falmer - hideous, shrunken little creatures - and their insectoid pets, the Chaurus. There were entire nests of Frostbite Spiders, and Frost Giants too - she'd never seen their kind before, but they were certainly every bit as large as their more common counterparts. None of them were suitable for her needs - being too big, too small, too humanoid, too ugly, or various combinations thereof.

The best prospects available were a few Frost Trolls, but she didn't trust her Command Creature spell to hold them effectively, and the local wildlife... which was, at least, quite fetching. The local deer and sabre-cats had some rather unique markings and, more impressively, glowed in the dark! The vale's sabre-cats in particular were charming, being rather sleeker and more dangerous-looking than their common cousins - cutting a fine picture on Placi's back as they tormented him with their barbed, feline cockheads. But they were rare, alas, offering few such opportunities...

As such, the nights they spent in the Forgotten Vale were largely passed with more personal amusements, much as when they had been visiting the Soul Cairn. She let her pet drink her piss, worship her ass, kiss her feet... or bend over, gag in place, as she reddened his ass with a riding-crop. Only in human form, mind - the fur of his werewolf-form was a bit too good at absorbing impacts, and took away that clean, sharp sound that a rap on the bare bottom otherwise created.

Not that they spent that many nights in the Vale anyway, when all was said and done. They had to run back and forth across it several times in order to follow in 'the footsteps of the pilgrims' and gain access to the Inner Sanctum of the Chantry, sure, but compared to how far they'd journeyed already, it was no great task. Nor did the locals, however unappealing, put up any particularly troublesome resistance, thanks to Placi's new gear and her own studies.

In particular, her growing mastery of Conjuring was paying dividends. Sure, Ebon would not aid them in battle - that was part of the deal - but she had also learned how to summon Atronarchs - mindless, elemental beings who wielded great power. This included the fearsome Flame Atronarch, which finally provided her with the ability to wield fire-based magicks, albeit by proxy. Her vampiric nature prevented her from mastering fire-spells directly, and that shortcoming had often annoyed her, considering how many of Skyrim's creatures resisted the frost-type spells that came so natural to her, while possessing a weakness she could not exploit. Now, though, she could simply call up a Flame Atronarch to handle matters when facing Frost Trolls, Frost Giants, and the rest of their ice-loving ilk.

This also proved valuable when their lengthy errand at last was completed, earning them access to the Inner Sanctum where Auriel's Bow awaited... though of course, they knew well in advance that they wouldn't be able to just walk in and take it. The Snow-Elf, Gelebor - one of the last of his long-lost kin - had told them as much when they encountered him on their way through Darkfall Cave, spinning them a tale about how his brother, the Arch-Curate, had seemingly gone insane after a Falmer-attack and barricaded himself in the Inner Sanctum.

Arch-Curate Vyrthur, sure enough, proved to be the final stumbling-block on this leg of their quest - thawing out a small army of long-frozen Falmer and Charus to ambush them, then finally facing them himself when he had nobody else left to hide behind. As they cornered him on the Grand Balcony overlooking the Vale, however, he sprung one last surprise on them - one that Serana's inhuman senses had begun to warn her about as soon as they'd stepped into the throne-room. The Arch-Curate, foremost among the servants of Auriel - as the elves named Akatosh, greatest of the gods - was a vampire.

As he ranted about how his god had failed to protect him from the undead taint, and indeed abandoned him as soon as he was turned by one of his acolytes, the whole chain of events seemed to spool out before Serana's inner eye. This ancient Snow-Elf had been sealed in this long-forgotten place for millenia, spawning a prophecy about 'The Tyranny of the Sun' that he'd hoped would bring a pureblooded vampire - a Daughter of Coldharbor - there at some point, just so that he could claim her blood and use it to taint Auriel's Bow, turning it against him in revenge. And because of that, her own father had grown obsessed with said prophecy, tearing her family apart and turning her into nothing more than a pawn in her parents' cold-hearted rivalry.

She didn't bother to let him finish his triumphant declaration about how his plan had worked perfectly, bringing her there so that he could sacrifice her on Auriel's altar and taint the bow with her blood. She just hit him in the face with a lightning-bolt, causing him to stagger back and swear, summoning up a cloak of frost about his shoulders. With a snap of her fingers, Serana called up a Flame Atronarch, and commanded both it and Placi forwards. "Kill him" was her simple order. She'd had her fill of vampires mindlessly clinging to centuries-old grudges - and then some.

It proved to be a bit of a struggle, but the outcome was never really in question. Vyrthur's mastery of ice-magic was unquestionable, combining as he did the vampire and the Snow-Elf's affinity for those arts... but she shrugged off that icy grip quite easily due to that very same vampiric nature, and unlike him, she'd brought some actual firepower to the party. Placi, meanwhile, had pretty decent defenses against the cold in his werewolf form - which he made full use of - and on top of that, he'd been hardened against the bite of icy chill by all the times she'd used an icy strap-on on him. Soon enough, the corrupted Arch-Curate fell - and the bow, for good or ill, was theirs.

Knight-Paladin Gelebor turned up immediately afterwards, using one of the teleportation-capable 'Wayshrines' they had been activating as they went. He seemed remarkably happy for someone whose brother had just been slain - especially once she'd told him that it wasn't the Falmer who had corrupted the fellow, but a vampire's bite. There were no objections to her taking the bow - and he even offered to freely bless any elven arrows they had on hand with Auriel's touch, turning them into an even stronger anti-vampire weapon than the bow itself already was. The thought of what the Dawnguard might have done with such a weapon chilled her - and she was rather happy that this ancient Snow-Elf seemed entirely oblivious to the fact that she, too, was a vampire. Of course, if he'd been particularly observant with regards to that kind of thing, he'd probably have noticed what happened to his brother...

Thus equipped, and with Auriel's Bow and a quiver of Sunhallowed Arrows strapped across Placi's back, they left the Forgotten Vale behind - their egress greatly accelerated by the aforementioned Wayshrines, allowing them to reach the point halfway through Darkfall Cave where they'd first encountered the Knight-Paladin in a single step. Once they'd left that dark and unpleasant pit behind, they were gratified to find that Wolfsbane was still alive and well, waiting for them where they'd left him - and that he had, indeed, earned his name in full by now. Apparently, some starved and lonely wolf - an outcast of his pack no doubt - had roved into the area and attacked the stallion, only to wind up getting his skull crushed by one heavy, steel-shoed hoof for his trouble. Normally, the scent of such a predator should've driven the horse into a panic, forcing him to run away and likely getting tangled up in the rope the bound him - but it seemed like all the time he'd spent with Placi in his werewolf form had caused him to lose his fear of that particular smell.

With Wolfsbane thus as healthy as ever, they were able to continue apace - on what felt like the last leg of their journey. It wasn't even particularly far - a short trek up along the northwestern Haafingar mountains, to where Castle Volkihar waited... as unmoved by the passage of time as ever. Serana spent the journey formulating a clear plan for what they'd do when they got there and, thanks to the supreme confidence that her continued imbibing of Placi's werewolf-blood granted her, what she'd do afterwards, once they'd successfully dealt with her father, Harkon. The way she saw it, if those plans proved futile, she wouldn't be around to feel embarrassed about the wasted time.

At the end, they made camp a ways west of Solitude, knowing that they'd reach the boat that would take them to the isolated castle the next day. That evening, Serana didn't bother to search for local animals that she could 'invite' to join them for the night, nor did she take control over Wolfsbane's faculties to get him involved - merely leaving him tied to a sturdy fir a little ways from the warmth of the campfire, reasonably confident by now that he wouldn't try to flee even if Placi shifted. Ebon Everhard also did not receive an invitation - not that day.

That night, they got back to basics. Serana was in charge, as ever had been the case, but she felt no need to demonstrate it by demanding some extravagant show of submission and obedience. No... tonight, all she wanted was to feel Placi's bare skin - or coarse werewolf-fur - against her body, his cock in her holes, his tongue in her mouth. To lose herself in the simple, uncomplicated, visceral pleasure of the mating - ecstasy spreading through her body with every forceful thrust. Placi fucked her, in human form and as a werewolf, until his virility gave out and his cock grew soft and uncooperative - then carried on with his tongue alone. Bit by bit, she could forget the worries and anxieties she refused to even admit to herself, and just lose track of time and space as she floated away on a wave of orgasmic pleasure...

Early the next day, they stepped into Castle Volkihar once more. Things were... quiet there, Serana immediately noticed. Sure, at this hour, most of the clan would've sought their coffins, but in this castle - with its bricked-up windows - there were always someone up and about, doing one thing or another. This was enough to give her a creeping suspicion, which was only reinforced when she spotted Garan Marethi, her father's seneschal, making a beeline for her across the Great Hall. "I see you have returned, my lady - and with Auriel's Bow in your keeping..." he declared with a slight bow, a slimy smile on his lips. "Truly exceptional. Lord Harkon awaits you in the Cathedral - pray, go and tell him that the time of prophecy is upon us at last!"

Serana spared him an assessing look. Garan was probably the second-most powerful member of her father's court. He was also still alive, at least in the vampiric sense, which suggested that he was very good at not making her father feel like he was or ever could be a threat. "I will" she replied - only to let her hand dart out as he straightened up from his bow, gripping him by the throat and pulling him in close... even as she let her mask drop, showing him a cold, sharp smile and a piercing glare. "But the prophecy won't end the way he thinks..." she whispered, watching his eyes widen. "Now, you are a smart guy - you know which side your bread is buttered on, as the mortals like to put it. So I'm certain that when I walk out of that Cathedral in a short while, and_he_ doesn't, you'll understand and take appropriate action."

Garan did, indeed, have a keen mind - sharpened by years of infighting among the Great Houses of the Dunmer even before he became a vampire - and she could see the cogs turning now as he looked at her with renewed intensity. Smiling narrowly, she released him, pushing him back. "I suggest you make sure that the wrong people aren't in the wrong place at that time." She continued, quietly but intensely. "Any... undue display of misplaced loyalty could cause a mess at that point." He bowed again, a cautious expression on his face. "I see you are your father's daughter indeed, My Lady. I will, of course, make all due preparations." Which no doubt meant that he'd carefully position himself to congratulate whoever walked out of the Cathedral alive, assuring them that he'd been on their side all along. But, that suited her just fine - and at the very least, there was a far more noticeable tinge of respect on that second 'my lady' than there'd been on the first.

Leaving him to go about his ass-covering business, she strode onwards towards the castle's long-desecrated cathedral, preparing herself both physically and mentally - while behind and beside her, in his usual spot, she could sense Placi doing the same. This reception made it clear that Harkon had, to a greater or lesser degree, been aware of their progress. Far from being surprised when she walked through the door with Auriel's Bow in hand - or, well, in her faithful bodyguard's hand, anyway - he was clearly ready for them. Well, it wasn't as if she'd expected to be able to settle this with a quick bit of backstabbing anyway - but she had hoped to throw him at least a bit off balance with the reveal of her unexpected success. So much for that.

The high-roofed and grandly-vaulted cathedral was, as ever, dimly lit and strewn with rubble. Below the nave, the blood-fountain ran steadily, no doubt topped up for the occasion. And before it, her father stood... the mask of the man he'd once been entirely shed, the monstrous form of a Vampire Lord revealed. The sight was enough to make her shiver despite her blood-bolstered confidence. That power was his alone - neither she nor her mother could take such a form, nor wield the power it brought. This was the 'gift' that Harkon had earned by handing his wife and daughter over to Molag Bal to be raped and humiliated.

A cold smile was on his monstrous, bat-like face as she walked up to him. "Serana, my darling... ah, and I see your favored pet remains at your side as well..." His voice was calm. There was no indication that he had any doubt as to what was about to happen. But two could play that game - whatever primal fear the sight of him was causing, she could hide it easily. "You know why we're here." She said, just as cool and confident as him, discarding all honorifics or suggestions of filial affection. He sighed. "Of course I do. You disappoint me, Serana. You've taken everything I provided for you, and thrown it all away for... what? A childish rebellion against parental authority?" He sounded genuinely bemused, as if he genuinely couldn't understand why she might have decided to turn on him.

She snorted mockingly. "Childish rebellion? Try self-preservation. I've read the Prophecy that so seduced you, in full. You would sacrifice my life and blood - your own daughter! - to end the Tyranny of the Sun. Whether it would even work is irrelevant - my blood is my own, and you shan't have it!" Harkon grimaced at this - an expression made all the more horrifying by the monstrous face he now wore. "So, I see this dragon has fangs..." he muttered, eyes narrowing. "Your voice drips with the venom of your mother's influence. How alike you've become."

At this, Serana laughed out loud - a genuine and thoroughly amused sort of laugh, which left her father obviously surprised and dumbfounded. Getting it under control, she grinned menacingly at him. "Ah, please forgive my mirth, daddy dearest... but someone just recently told me how alike to you I had become." Sighing, she shook her head. "I suppose none can escape their origins. But rest assured, I'm done being mother's tool just as much as I am done with you. I am my own person, and if I must commit patricide to assert my independence, then so be it."

Scowling, Harkon began to gather dark power in his clawed hands, levitating above the dirty floor. "So be it indeed." He declared. "For the sake of all of our kind, you will become a sacrifice - right alongside your foul-smelling pet!" And thus, the time for talking was over - all that was left was the clash of blade and claw, arcane magic and vampiric powers. Placi was in front of her in a flash, putting his dragonscale armor through its paces like never before, deflecting or avoiding everything Harkon could throw at him while Serana began to work her magic. A Flame Atronarch quickly joined the fray, exposing her father to the fiery weakness of all vampirekind, while lightning-bolts flew back and forth along with venomous words aplenty.

It was an exhausting, drawn-out fight - but just as she had hoped, Auriel's Bow proved the trump-card they needed to turn things in their favor. Her father's Shadow Shield, which she had seen him wield only once before, was his trump-card, after all - cloaking him in a large sphere of blood-red shadows that deflected all attacks and drained the life from any living thing that drew near. Just as she'd suspected he would, he employed this in order to retreat to the blood-fountain and recover his energy there once Placi and the Flame Atronarch had managed to get in some solid hits. That invincible defense, however, shattered in an instant before the searing-bright power of the Bow of Auriel and the Sunhallowed Arrows that the Gelebor had provided. This, indeed, was why she had commanded Placi to retain his human form during this battle, rather than resort to the monstrous power of the werewolf - he needed to be able to use the bow, which indeed proved effective in general as well.

Harkon did not go down easily, of course. He summoned skeletons and Gargoyles to swamp them, disappeared into the shadows as a cloud of mist, vanished into a swarm of bats in order to reform at the other side of the cathedral, and swapped smoothly from hurling dark magicks to fighting tooth and claw as the circumstances required. But Serana and Placi stood firm, fighting back-to-back when pressed or spreading out to divide up their targets when necessary. Freshly-made potions - the fruits of Serana's alchemy-training - came into play, healing Placi's wounds faster than his modest Restoration-skills could hope for, as well as providing them both with enhanced resistance against the Vampire Lord's dark powers. In the end, it proved a marathon, not a sprint - an endurance-battle - and with Auriel's Bow effectively denying Harkon the ability to recover safely, while Placi and Serana could cover each other long enough to swig a potion, the final result was set.

Perforated by arrows that still glimmered with implanted sunlight, scorched by the Atronarch's flame, bleeding from multiple points where he had been carved open by the Dragonbone Sword, Harkon finally collapsed before the bloody Altar of Molag Bal. "No... Serana... your own father..." he wheezed as she stepped up to him, unsteady on her feet but still in far better shape than he. She glared down at him."Now you want to play at being my father?" She demanded. "You were willing to sacrifice me for your own aggrandizement. You can hardly complain when I turn around and do the same thing. Now be silent, and try to die with a bit of dignity..."

The dagger had been a gift from Placi - crafted from the same dragonbone as his own sword, and just as razor-sharp, she'd layered it with a different enchantment... one that made its blade catch aflame as she drew it from its sheath. Her father, despite her entreaty, screamed pitifully as she plunged it into his chest, searing the black heart that still beat there, somehow, despite all evidence to the contrary. A moment later, his body collapsed into a pile of dust, and she straightened up with a sigh and sheathed the dagger. "Done" she declared, feeling nothing but relief. He was dead - and she was still alive.

Garan Marethi was waiting for them as they left the Cathedral - bowing rather more deeply than he had before. "Lord Harkon defeated. I never imagined I'd see the day..." he marveled as he straightened up, genuine respect in his eyes. "You have my congratulations, My Lady - clearly, you are the superior vampire... and the new Mistress of this castle. Rest assured, the _whole_of the clan will follow you without complaint." Serana smiled wanly. She felt very, very tired, but there was still things to be done. Seeds to be sown.

"Good to know, Garan..." she thus answered, standing as straightly as she could manage in her current, exhausted state. "Perhaps you could gather some of those ever-so-loyal members of the clan, then, and have the passage leading to the courtyard cleared. I need access to my mother's old alchemy-laboratory for some ongoing research." He nodded readily in response, an expression of innocent curiosity on his face. "As you say, My Lady. Though I did not realize you held any great interest in alchemy, I must admit..."

Serana smiled narrowly. Of course he was biting. Unlike some other members of the clan, Garan had never had any designs on the throne, but he greatly valued his position right next to it... and be it among mortals or vampires, knowledge was power. Especially when you were trying to come to grips with a newly-minted leader. "Well, I didn't use to..." she replied, stifling a yawn, playing up her very real exhaustion. "Mother taught me a bit when I was young, but I took to enchanting more readily. Lately, though, I've been renewing my studies... ever since I learned about the true source of father's power."

Garan nodded, eyes keen but face relaxed. Of course he'd be wondering how she'd prevailed. And of course, his inherent, vampiric arrogance would prevent him from realizing that her pet werewolf was the one who'd done most of the heavy lifting. So the idea that she'd discovered some secret powersource of Harkon's and co-opted it added up nicely. Letting her smile widen, she caught his eyes and stopped pretending to be tired enough to let things slip - instead, she pretended to be sharper and more alert than she actually felt at this time. "Interested in that, are you, Garan?" She asked coldly.

Twitching back, the old Dunmer squared his shoulders and furrowed his brow. "Ah, certainly I would never dream to pry into matters that do not concern me, My Lady. I merely hope to understand your objectives so that I may more effectively aid you in achieving them." She chuckled, nodding along with this fine deflection. "No doubt. But, let me be clear, Garan... despite what you said before, I am _not_my father, and I do not intend to turn into the same kind of paranoiac as he always was - creeping about this castle like an overgrown gargoyle, always ready to crush anyone who seemed overly ambitious."

Sighing, she shook her head. "I did, indeed, discover the true secret of his great strength, and made use of it myself - giving him a true match for the probably the first time ever. However, I don't_intend to _keep that secret. Not that it would be any use to anyone else in the clan, in and of itself..." Gesturing with one hand, she called Placi - who had been standing silently beside her, eyes demurely downcast, as they talked - closer to hand, and let her fingers caress his beard. "The source of his power, you see, was werewolf-blood..." she began, launching into the lie she had so carefully composed in expectation of her victory.

With great attention to detail, she expounded to Garan about how she'd discovered her father's secret stash of werewolf-blood, and remembered how she'd always been warned never to drink from a werewolf herself. Through study and experimentation, she'd discovered that the blood of a werewolf - which most vampires would simply call 'delicious' - had a particular effect on a Pureblood_Vampire, like herself or her parents. The intermingling of Hircine's essence, tied up in the blood of his beast-like creations, caused the essence of Molag Bal within those touched by _his hand to respond violently, boosting the vampire's power as if to overwhelm and eradicate Hircine's taint. This, then, had the effect of giving the vampire both a temporary boost in power, and a more gradual growth in vampiric abilities over time if the blood was consumed on a regular basis.

"So, it would do you - or the rest of the clan - little good to drink from a werewolf the way I have..." she continued with a smile. "But that's where alchemy comes in. I've been analyzing my pet's blood, trying to isolate and enhance the effects it has on vampires, and I believe that with a bit more work, I'll be able to incorporate it into the Bloodstone Chalice. It will be a lesser form, no doubt, but it should provide a significant boost to the power of _all_of the clan - helping to secure us against any incidental vampire-hunter incursions."

Garan swallowed it raw. It all added up, after all - clearly, Harkon's warnings against feeding on werewolves had just been a cover to try and ensure that his wife or daughter didn't accidentally stumble upon his secret, right? Better yet, the whole thing about the essence of Molag Bal and Hircine interacting somehow when a Pureblood Vampire drank from a werewolf was true... based on what she'd discovered so far, anyway. She'd just... fudged the details. Indeed, her results suggested that rather than Molag Bal's essence rising to overwhelm Hircine's, the two intermingled and reinforced each other whenever she consumed Placi's blood. From the Daedric Prince of Domination came sublime confidence and a taste for power, while from Hircine - the Father of Manbeasts - flowed the wild, visceral desire of a rutting animal...

"Intriguing!" Garan eagerly declared. "A new power for all the kindred - certainly, it seems that your reign will be very different from your father's indeed... perhaps I should apologize for my earlier comment about the similarity, My Lady!" Bowing deeply, he excused himself - dashing off to rally whatever strong backs he could find to clear the courtyard passage. Once he was out of sight, she allowed herself a mischievous smile, and let her hand shift to caress Placi's neck - sparking a sigh of contentment from him. "A new power for all the kindred indeed..." she muttered, hoping that she could actually pull it off as she'd planned.

Serana smiled as she leaned back in her throne-like chair at the center of the High Table that stood at the back of the castle's Great Hall, letting her hand drop to pet Placi, who sat beside her in his werewolf-form. The clan had gathered to dine together this night, but the feasting had mostly ended by now - and the dinner degenerating into something more like an orgy. Everywhere, the sound of moans mixed with wet slaps and groans as the vampires freely indulged themselves.

Salonia was on her knees under the table again, she noted - kneeling between the legs of Vingalmo, her Master, and sucking his cock like a champ. Feran Sadri, meanwhile, was on the table - busily mating with one of the female thralls, sinking his fangs into her neck even as he vigorously humped her. Another of the thralls that had been brought up for the feasts - a handsome young man - was nearby, bent over a chair as Orthjolf and Stalf pounded him from both ends, kissing passionately above his back all the while.

A lusty growl drew her eyes over to the other side of the hall, where she spotted Fura Bloodmouth and Hestla both on all fours, eagerly making out while CuSith and Garmr, the castle's resident Death-Hounds, readily mounted them. From the looks of things, they'd both knotted already, and were settling into the rapid-fire-fucking part of the mating. Bound as they were to their creators, the Death-Hounds had grown just as lusty as the vampires of late. Nearby, Rargal Thrallmaster was eagerly watching it all while holding in place the heads of the last two thralls who'd been brought up to be fed on - one sucking his cock, the other noisily licking his ass. The thralls had grown a lot more pliable lately, thanks to the powerful aphrodisiac that had been added to their fodder... none of them, certainly, seemed to have any care for which gender they were tasked with pleasuring at any given time.

Despite the fetching sight, however, Serana found her eyes drawn inexorably towards the nearby doorway that led into the small side-chamber holding the Bloodstone Chalice - endlessly filled with a blood-like liquid that could empower any vampire who drank from it. Not everyone had been eager to sample it once she'd finished altering the composition of its contents, but some had - and the fact that it had granted them enhanced strength and vitality along with tasting_really good_ by all accounts had soon prompted the rest of the power-hungry kindred to partake. By the time the full effects of the concoction had set in, it was too late - they were all addicted now, drinking from the chalice every few days just to top up.

What it produced now, however, wasn't quite what she had told Garan Marethi she was working on. Rather, it was something of a... distillation of the power of Hircine, spiced with a bit of Sanguine's power, thanks to her recent bargaining. Empowering, sure, but it had also lit a fire in the vampires' once-dead loins, filling them with lust... without the whole 'confidence and desire for domination' aspect that Molag Bal's essence usually provided. They'd lost all interest in hunting mortals, let alone blackening the sun as Harkon had once promised, and had instead settled into a routine of endless hedonism, enjoying the many pleasures that the now-lively castle had to offer - heading out only when more blood-thralls were needed, and even then aiming almost exclusively for those whose inclinations ran towards submission in the first place. With this steep reduction in outside adventurers, the eye of the Dawnguard and other mortal authorities would hopefully be averted from the Volkihar Clan, to focus more on the feral vampires that still infected many parts of Skyrim, entirely unassociated with her kind.

Tearing her eyes away from that doorway, she let them rest on Fura and Hestla again. She wasn't particularly surprised that the two Death-Hounds had been drawn into the steadily-expanding games so quickly, honestly, but she still wasn't entirely sure about why. Did Hircine's essence, by its very nature, just erase the taboos that otherwise barred people from freely enjoying such animalistic pleasures, or was it simply the erosion of inhibitions that came from the surging tide of lust that did the trick? That remained unclear.

She stifled a sigh as she continued to caress Placi's head without looking in his direction. One thing that certainly wasn't in any kind of doubt, by now, was the sheer addictiveness of werewolf-blood and its derivatives. She'd already known it when she'd faced him just outside the castle, when he had his moment of doubt - forced to ask himself whether he'd submitted to her of his own free will, or been driven to it by outside influences. What she'd told him was the truth, of course, but what she'd left out was the fact that_she_ had not been afforded that same choice. She had consumed his blood with no concept of what it would do to her. Now... she couldn't imagine ever stopping. She liked what it did to her - the sense of power and confidence, the heightened pleasure and desire... but she was honest enough with herself to admit it: She was literally addicted to him, just as she'd gotten her entire clan hooked on the same potent drug.

A nearby presence made her turn her head. Garan Marethi was standing by her shoulder, bowing respectfully. He, too, had partaken of the Chalice, but he seemed to have a better grip of his desires than most of the kindred - certainly, it didn't seem to impact his impeccable performance as her majordomo. "My Lady... your mother seems to have finally taken the bait. The guards grabbed her as soon as she emerged from the Soul Cairn." His voice was dry, though there was a hungry undertone. Feeling her blood quicken, Serana nodded and rose from her seat. "Excellent. Have her brought to my chambers - suitably restrained, of course."

As he bowed again and started away, however, she stopped him with a hand-gesture, a thought occurring to her. Well, two of them, really. One was that she'd noticed Garan rather enjoying watching_things of late... particularly her own acts of domination, which seemed to arouse him heavily. No doubt, he'd want to watch what happened next, too, but while she didn't _normally mind having an audience, she rather did in this case... on the other hand, she didn't really want to just tell him to stay away. It'd be a bit insulting, and might make him suspect that she was planning some kind of secret dealings or whatnot.

Fortunately, the other thought she just had offered a solution. "Ah, I just recalled..." she started with an apologetic smile. "I left Modhna gagged and tied to a rack in the torture-room this morning, after teasing her for a while - along with a thrall I'd ordered to edge her until I returned. I'd planned to play with her some more after dinner, but it seems I've now got other plans. Why don't you go amuse yourself with her for a while in my stead? She'll be truly desperate for release at this point, so you could take it in any number of directions - take her to the edge yourself a few times to really make her beg, torture her until she cums from the pain, make her humiliate herself in return for an orgasm... or some combination of those, as you please."

Garan licked his lips and nodded. "Ah... certainly, My Lady. I take it I have free reign in how I handle this matter, then?" Serana grinned and stepped past him, patting him on the shoulder. "But of course. Be as cruel as you like. We both know she'll ultimately enjoy it no matter what." Modhna was one of the first members of the court to have drunk from the newly-altered Bloodstone Chalice - and she still drank from it every day if she could get away with it. The effects had sunk in deep - by now, it seemed there was very little that didn't arouse her to a greater or lesser degree. "Just don't forget to deliver my orders to the guards first!"

With Garan thus diverted for the moment, Serana made for her chambers - Placi, of course, following obediently behind. He spent most of his time in werewolf-form these days - it made him look more properly pet-like, and she was partial to his knotted, canine cock anyway. Besides, considering the fact that his paws were unsuited for any kind of intricate use, the lupine shape basically acted as a form of inherent bondage - leaving him dependent on his Mistress for anything more complicated than opening a door, and sometimes for that too.

Her chambers were, naturally, the same ones that had previously been occupied by her late father. They were the biggest and most luxurious in the castle, so why wouldn't she take them over? Especially considering the en-suite torture-rack - the one time when she _did_prefer Placi in his human form was when she tied him down to that and worked him over with a riding-crop, birch-rod, flogger or cat-o-nine-tails. Or, alternately, used the rack's powerful wheel along with a metal ring locked tightly around the top of his scrotum and a sturdy leather strap... pulling his balls down until she could see every detail of them through the tautly-stretched tissue of his sack. He always pleaded pitifully for mercy when she did that... but nonetheless never hesitated to step into the rack and let himself be strapped in.

Grabbing a chair, she turned it to face the door and sat down in it, awaiting her mother's arrival. Briefly, she looked down herself, wondering if she should maybe grab a dress or something from her rarely-used wardrobe. Currently, she was wearing the same kind of 'fashion' that had recently caught on among the rest of the clan - inspired partially by Ebon Everhard's ensemble, and thus by what passed for everyday wear in the Myriad Realms of Revelry. It was composed chiefly of blackened leather straps connecting various gleaming metal rings, decorated in places by studs or inset jewels. It concealed nothing, didn't get in the way of any conceivable sexual play, and indeed served to enhance and draw attention to various key parts of one's anatomy. Did a great job bringing out her otherwise modest tits, too.

Nah, there wasn't much point in prettying herself up. Valerica would soon enough learn how the kindred had changed during her absence. Instead, she just leaned back in the chair, cocked a leg over one of the armrests, and beckoned for her pet werewolf - who promptly knelt before her, bowed his head, and began to lick her pussy both eagerly and skillfully as she waited. It didn't take very long - just a couple of minutes later, a knock on the door heralded the arrival of her captive mother.

"Enter!" she called, prompting the door to open. It was Namasur and Ronthil who stepped through, dragging Valerica between them. Both were wearing the same kind of 'outfit' as herself, a fact no doubt not lost on her dear mother, who looked equal parts haunted, scared and confused. Her hands were locked behind her by a set of heavy steel manacles, too strong for even a Pureblood Vampire to break, and a rather erotic gag had been strapped onto her face - her fangs were digging into the wooden ball, but it held. Serana smiled, petting Placi as he continued to labor between her legs. "Well done... now, get her to her knees." She commanded coldly.

The two lesser vampires promptly obeyed, pushing Valerica down and holding her in place with a hand on each of her shoulders. Their eyes were lingering hungrily on both her own body and, more openly, on the captive Daughter of Coldharbor. "Mother..." Serana intoned, her voice frosty as she met her prisoner's wide, shocked eyes. "I'm glad to see that you finally took me up on my invitation to return to the castle. As you can see, father is indeed dead, just as I told you." She let her smile broaden. The look on her mother's face - fear, verging on panic - was somehow... very attractive. Though, maybe that was because she'd feasted on Placi's blood again, less than an hour ago.

"What you seem to have failed to realize, dear mother, is the implications_of my lordly father's demise..." she continued. "He tried to kill me. So I killed him. That's... _fair, right?" She rubbed her chin in mock thoughtfulness, then let her eyes rest heavily on Valerica again. "You, meanwhile, did manage to imprison me in a tomb for a literal age. More than a thousand years passed me by in that coffin, after you pushed me inside and closed the lid. Had my darling pet here not found me, many more ages might have gone by, considering that you then went and got yourself captured by the Ideal Masters. Bit embarrassing, that, by the way - isn't it? Kind of suggests that you maybe aren't as smart as you think you are."

Gesturing for Placi to seat himself beside her chair as usual, she crossed her legs and took up a more straight-backed, proper position in her seat, glaring down at her kneeling mother. "So. Death for death. Imprisonment for imprisonment. Fair. Yes? Though, being a merciful sort of person, I suppose we'll keep your sentence to a nice, round millennium - even though my stay in Dimhollow Crypt was a fair bit more than just a thousand years." Valerica was making panicked, muffled noises through the gag, shaking her head vigorously. The two vampires who held her chuckled menacingly.

Serana, however, shook her head and put on an expression of mock concern. "Oh, don't get me wrong, dear mother - I'm not planning to just lock you in a coffin and bury you somewhere in the castle's foundations... I mean, I considered it, but it just seems a...waste, really." She let her smile widen, and her eyes run up and down her mother's kneeling form. Shapely, underneath the severe dress and tight hair-buns. Of course, she hadn't aged a day since the ritual - same as herself. "No, I've got something...different in mind for you."

Valerica was still trying to shout something at her through the gag - probably a plea for mercy, or perhaps an apology? Though, 'sorry I left you locked in a tomb for a thousand years and then got myself besieged in another dimension ensuring that I'd never be able to free you again' just didn't cut a lot of mustard, to her mind. Shaking her finger, Serana tutted. "Now, now, mother dearest... you'll have your chance to talk, soon enough. You see, I have two options in mind for your punishment, and I will let you choose between them yourself. Merely allow me to explain the details to you, then your gag will be removed, and you'll be able to state your preference."

Letting one hand rest on Placi's head as he knelt by her side, she raised a finger on the other hand. "Option number one - the simple_one. You spend the next thousand years as the lowliest servant in _my_castle. Serving and servicing whoever deigns to call on you... and yes, that means _with your body, if you're still not getting it. Speaking of... gents, would you kindly strip my mother down? Just tear off her clothes - she isn't going to need it any more regardless." The two guards eagerly got to work on this, ripping apart the tough fabric of Valerica's outfit with their vampiric strength, while Serana blithely continued her explanation. "Mind you, when I say 'the lowliest servant', I mean it - you will be ranked beneath the thralls, beneath the house-pets even. Indeed, your primary role will be to serve my pet werewolf here as his personal servant - providing for both his practical and sexual needs for as long as that task remains... relevant."

A familiar stab of agony went through Serana's soul as she spoke those words, though she very carefully did not let it show on her face. It had grown impossible for her to truly deny how deeply she cared for him... and how this fact led inexorably towards a future tragedy. Werewolf though he was, Placi remained a mortal - which meant she'd inevitably outlive him, now that the main threats to her continued existence had been dealt with. The only way to avoid that, as far as she knew, was to make him a vampire like herself... and she refused to lay that curse upon him. "It seems a particularly appropriate arrangement to me..." she continued blithely, her face a carefully-composed mask. "...seeing as he is the one who freed me from the imprisonment you saw fit to place me in, 'for my own good'."

Judging from the muffled noises she was producing and the repeated head-shaking, it did not seem like Valerica appreciated the symmetry much - or perhaps she was simply stating a lack of preference for this option? Well, that could change, once she'd learned of the alternative. Serana held up two fingers, smiling narrowly. "Option two, then... more complicated, but also more... profitable for me and the clan." The two fingers became an arcane hand-sign, as she twisted her fingers and mind through the familiar spell - prompting Ebon Everhard to pop into existence on the other side of her chair amidst a buzz of noise and a burst of purple energy. "Ahhh... she's arrived, has she?" He asked without preamble as he spotted the now-naked vampire kneeling, bound and shivering, on the floor.

Serana nodded. "Indeed - though she's yet to make her choice. Still, I assume you are ready?" Ebon smiled hungrily in response. "Oh yes. Your novel idea has panned out splendidly, and Lord Sanguine has called your suggestion 'amusing'... which is high praise indeed, needless to say." As expected, all - she'd been fairly confident in her calculations, thanks to her growing experience with Conjuring, though she'd lacked the skills to actually craft_the artifacts she had conceived of. Turning her eyes back to her mother - whose eyes had somehow widened even more, now - she gestured towards the new arrival. "This is Ebon, a Dremora Lord in the service of Sanguine. You know, the Daedric Prince of Debauchery, Dark Desires, Hedonism, Revelry, and Hard-Partying. While I haven't exactly _pledged allegiance to him or anything, we've... come to an understanding."

Slouching in her seat, she tented her fingers in front of her, gazing thoughtfully at Valerica. "You will become a prisoner of the Myriad Realms of Revelry. Or, let's not mince words - you will spend the next thousand years as a living sex-toy and cum-dump for Sanguine's lusty followers. They will take particular pleasure in despoiling a Daughter of Coldharbor, it seems... and in the Myriad Realms of Revelry, the party never stops. You will be used without pause, without hesitation, without restraint, every minute of every day, as the centuries tick by. At the end of your sentence, you_will_ be allowed to leave - that has been agreed... but, Sanguine insisted that at that point, you be given the option to_stay_, of your own 'free will'. He seems... quite confident that you will, I should mention."

Valerica was shaking her head even more fiercely now, though Serana rather doubted that it was because she disagreed with the Prince of Hedonism's assessment. Daedric Princes tended not to make such mistakes, after all, and a thousand years was a long time to work on someone. Sighing, Serana leaned her head on one hand, resting her elbow on the armrest. "Now, before I have your gag removed so that you may choose your fate, let me just specify a few things. Firstly, I have no interest in excuses, pleas, or general begging. You may find the choice you've been given unfair, but consider the way I had to choose between being sacrificed by my father or imprisoned by my mother... though, now that I think about it, neither of you ever bothered to give me any kind of choice, hmm? Second, refusing to choose is a choice in and of itself - namely, in that case, I'll simply have to act as is best for the clan as a whole. And however much my darling pet deserves a new toy, the gratitude of a Daedric Prince is a valuable thing indeed..."

With that, she glanced up at the guards. "Now, remove her gag, and step back. You may stay and watch, if you like, but do not interfere." She didn't really mind their presence the way she'd have minded Garan's - they were simple servants, after all, and their interests no less simple. Ronthil promptly unbuckled the gag at the bag, pulling it off and leaving Valerica to cough in its absence, while Namasur scooped up the shreds of clothing that had fallen around her and picked them up before both of them retreated to flank the door, eagerly eyeing the naked woman on the floor.

"Please... my daughter... don't do this..." Valerica predictably pleaded as soon as she'd found her breath. Sighing, Serana wagged a finger at her. "Come, now, I just told you that I wasn't interested in listening to you beg. You have the use of your tongue again so that you may tell me which of the two punishments I have presented you prefer." Indeed, looking at the vampire who shivered and twitched before her, she felt no pity. She'd taken her father's life with her own hands and, in doing so, severed any bond of filial allegiance. This... woman, wasn't her mommy, just a person. A person who had done her wrong, and deserved punishment. A person she wielded power over... a delicious, arousing power.

Valerica bit her lip, her eyes darting between Placi - who still knelt beside Serana's chair in his werewolf-form - and Ebon Everhard, standing tall on the other side, living up to his name as he licked his lips meaningfully, returning her gaze with hungry intensity. "Choose!" Serana demanded, closing her fist. "My patience wears thin." Valerica flinched, swallowed, and finally bowed her head. "I'd... I'd rather stay here, in the castle, even if it is as a servant..." she managed to say, her voice shaky. Serana nodded. It was the only choice that made sense. Not only would her penance be far lighter than what she'd be subjected to in the Myriad Realms of Revelry, it would also be far easier to_escape_ from Castle Volkihar than from the realm of a Daedric Prince. Her beleaguered mother wasn't half as smart as she thought she was, but she was no fool - that particular fact would have played into her calculations.

Ebon sighed in disappointment, but remained where he was, face relaxed. Seemingly not overly concerned by this turn of events - understandable, really. Serana, meanwhile, nodded. "So be it, then. You may begin your servitude immediately." Turning her head, she smiled down at Placi. "Now that I think about it, I haven't granted you any release since, oh, yesterday sometime, have I puppy? Well, go ahead then - use my pitiful mother's body as you see fit." With a conflicted-sounding whine, Placi rose from where he'd been kneeling and slowly made his way across the floor on all fours, towards Valerica - only to pause, turning his head sideways, as she cringed away from him with an expression of fear and disgust on her face.

Sighing, Serana shook her head. "Come now, mother... you are supposed to be his new, devoted servant, not some reluctant farm-girl hiding in a corner. Offer yourself to him - make it clear that your body is at his disposal! If he won't use you, after all, you are useless as a servant - in which case we'll have to fall back on that _other_option..." She glanced meaningfully over at Ebon, who grinned eagerly in response. Valerica flinched, a haunted look in her eyes, and her face twitched as she seemed to struggle to get it under control, assuming a seductive expression that was about as spot-on as her late husband's attempt at a paternal smile.

Until then, she'd been kneeling with her legs tightly together - unable to do anything about her bared tits due to her still-bound arms, but at least capable of hiding her pussy by clamping her thighs together. Now, she leaned back, supporting herself on her bound hands as she spread her legs, revealing a hairless and bone-dry slit inbetween. Placi slowly crept towards her, nose twitching, eyes uncertain, clearly still not convinced. "Ah... please, Master, use my body..." Valerica desperately called to Placi as Ebon licked his lips, watching her manifest reluctance. "I am... all yours!" Her tremulous voice didn't exactly make this statement sound particularly compelling, but Placi did continue forwards, ultimately sticking his muzzle in between her thighs - running his tongue across her pussy as she flinched violently, leg-muscles vibrating with the suppressed need to close the gap.

Despite what Serana knew to be a highly skilled tongue, Placi's oral efforts - which seemed mostly focused on adding some much-needed lubrication to the orifice in question - seemed to be failing to get Valerica in the mood. While her legs remained open, her pussy accessible, she was looking away from the werewolf who labored between them, visible tension in her jaw as if she was stopping herself from crying out. Training her into a proper, submissive sex-slave was starting to look more and more like a drawn-out, frustrating task to Serana. "You might want to roll over..." she called to her trembling mother. "Get your ass in the air. He likes it animal-style, no surprise..."

Placi's pointy ears perked at her voice, and he drew back a bit - looking expectantly at Valerica. Taking a deep, shuddering breath, the woman pushed herself sideways, rolling over on her knees - with her hands still manacled behind her back, this left her tits flattening against the stone floor as her weight was left resting on them and her cheek. Her ass, however, was in the air as requested, her legs lightly spread, while her pussy dripped with fresh werewolf-slobber. Even so, Placi did not seem overly aroused by the display - his cock had emerged from its sheath, but it still wasn't fully hard, and he hesitated with one paw in the air rather than mount her immediately.

Serana sighed again. "He doesn't seem too impressed, mother dearest..." she said flatly. "At this rate, you're no use to me." Shaking, Valerica drew in breath through her nose, seemingly trying to steady herself - before calling out, as best she could with her head flat against the floor. "Please, Master, mount me! F... fuck me like an animal! I... I want your cock!" Her voice broke several times as she tried to get those words out, but Serana was mostly just impressed that she even knew them. 'Talking dirty' was, after all, an acquired skill. Made her wonder how, exactly, her parents had hooked up... they'd hated each other later on but, presumably, there'd been some sort of attraction originally. If it was lust that had once bound them, then their subsequent falling-out might have been a natural result of the deadening of such desires that vampirism brought... along with, perhaps, the traumatic debasement and humiliation that Valerica, like she herself, had suffered during the 'ritual' that had imbued them with that dark power.

Regardless, it had the desired effect. Placi's canine cock stiffened, and in one smooth movement, he was on her back, jabbing at her pussy. Practiced as he was at such mountings, this particular position usually involved anal sex, so finding his aim took a few moments. Then the tapered tip of his shaft caught between her saliva-lubricated labia, pushing inside and prompting a trembling sob from Valerica as she got her first taste of werewolf-cock. The two guards by the door were watching eagerly, Serana noted - their cocks hard and erect as they slowly pumped them with their hands, licking their lips, perhaps wondering when they would get the chance to have a go at her. Drawing their attention with a wave of her hand, she gestured towards her restrained mother. "You two, feel free to use her mouth in the meantime - it's not as if she's meant to be my pet's _exclusive_property, after all."

The pair promptly rushed forwards, with Ronthil being just a bit faster than his comrade - throwing himself to his knees before the helpless vampire matron and lifting her head by the hair, unraveling the tight buns it was tied up in in the process. Placi - who had been humping her in that adorably awkward canine fashion where his paws wrapped around the hips of his partner - readily assisted the effort, shifting his grip to her shoulders and manacle-connected wrists to help keep her torso at the right angle. Looking up, Valerica no doubt recognized Ronthil as one of the more lowly members of the clan, and had just enough time to snap out "How dare..." before he jammed his cock down her throat in a swift, practiced motion. There was no need to hold back on her, of course, like with the human thralls - like any vampire, she did not need to breathe, doing so only out of habit and in order to talk.

Namasur, who hadn't been quite fast enough, grumbled a bit - but then settled down, jacking his shaft harder and faster than before as he pointed it towards Valerica's wide-eyed face, clearly intending to spray his cum over it as she continued to be spit-roasted. Placi, meanwhile, seemed to have managed to push his cock all the way inside, seating his knot inside of her - though admittedly, considering the fact that she'd given birth in the past, it was unlikely to provide a particularly firm tie. For her part, Serana leaned back in her chair, licking her lips and enjoying the sight of her once-arrogant mother so surrounded by hard cocks, trembling and groaning around the thick shaft filling her mouth - the thrill of power it brought her was lovely.

Alas, that thrill proved short-lived. Just as Serana was starting to think that maybe she should call on Ebon, who wasn't doing anything right now anyway, to fill her pussy while she watched, Namasur jacked himself to a quick-and-dirty climax - spraying his warm and slimy seed across Valerica's face with admirable accuracy. She flinched at the impact - and in the next moment, Ronthil was screaming in pain, stumbling backwards with blood oozing from the root of his cock, where the fangs of a Daughter of Coldharbor had torn into the sensitive tool.

Having apparently snapped, Valerica growled and twisted her body around underneath Placi, who yelped in surprise. Somehow, she managed to get one of her feet lodged into the space between his leg and his hips, pushing with superhuman strength - sending him tumbling backwards as his cock was torn from her pussy, knot and all. Struggling visibly with the steel manacles that still bound her - making the metal creak dangerously - she flipped to her feet, showing off her bloodstained fangs in a bestial growl, hateful eyes fixated on Serana.

"So... that is your final answer, then?" Serana said with a mixture of disappointment and relief, straightening in her seat even as her mother charged towards her with an enraged howl. She didn't get far, after all - within a few steps, Placi and Ebon had pinned her to the floor, holding her down even as she struggled. "I take it our bargain stands, then?" Ebon commented pleasantly, his smile suggesting that he'd long-since predicted this outcome. Serana nodded. "Indeed. Strap them on." Holding his intended victim down with one hand, Ebon nodded - and lifted his other hand to make an arcane sign.

Appearing in his hand were few strange devices, made from the dark, ebony-like material that the Dremora favored for all their weapons and armors as well. Thin bands of it, interspersed with empty rings of varying size. Quite mysterious and enigmatic to the uninitiated, no doubt - but in truth, these were the results of her studies into the finer points of Conjuring, as applied by the skill of Dremora craftsmen and enchanters. Ebon wasted no time, either - strapping the first of these into place around Valerica's head immediately. The band closed behind her skull, sealed seamlessly shut, while a dark metal ring now encircled her mouth and nose entirely, bending with the contours of her skull and laying flush against her skin. Purple sparks flew from the ring as it began to activate - then turned into a solid wall of purple energy, before finally the ring turned into a dark, solid disc.

Valerica's eyes widened above the ring, and her struggles grew weaker - confusion making her falter as part of her face seemingly disappeared. Working with Placi, Ebon took advantage of this to pull her upright, bending her backwards - and strapping the next part of the set onto her chest, closing it behind her her back in the same seamless way that the first one had been. In the process, two rings had been pulled over her heavy tits, bending around her ribs to be as tight against her chest as possible. Purple sparks once again flew, and the two milky-white orbs disappeared - replaced by whirling darkness, and then a solid, flat surface. The final part of the set was less of a band, and closer to something resembling a chastity-belt - going around her waist and between her legs, despite her best efforts to prevent it. A ring at the back pushed her buttocks aside to encircle her sphincter, while in the front, a triangular loop was pulled flush against her skin, encompassing her entire pussy-mound. A final round of sparks turned these, too, into solid surfaces, leaving it resembling a particularly elaborate and erotic set of armored panties.

The rage that had driven Valerica for a minute of pure berzerker fury seemed to have dissipated, replaced by despair and... something else. She was shaking violently in Placi and Ebon's grip, her eyes twitching violently, limbs tugging half-heartedly against her restraints. Looking at her, Serana nodded. "Impressive work. Where do the portals come out?" Ebon grinned, rising from the floor and dusting his hands unnecessarily as he left Valerica in Placi's grip alone. "For the moment? A hall in the Myriad Realms of Revelry known as The Orgy Without Beginning or End. No part of her will be likely to go unused there for long - and I daresay the_smell_, all by itself, can be rather heady for those not accustomed to it. The exit-portals are portable, however, so we may move them around from time to time. Maybe mount them on a cloth dummy, just for fun - or moving the mouth and nose to the lavatories off the Feasting-Hall of a Thousand Flagons if she gets...bitey again."

Rising from her seat, Serana shrugged. "Well, you can do as you like with them, I suppose. For the next one thousand years, anyway - then, as we agreed upon, she will be given the choice between going free or stepping fully into your realm." Ebon nodded again, clearly still confident in which way that 'choice' would go. "Of course, of course, My Lady... and we will make sure to feed her a mouthful or two of blood from time to time, as promised. I'm sure we can rustle up some volunteers to donate it - or else just collect it from pain-hungry visitors at the Feast of Agony next door."

From the looks of things, the residents of 'The Orgy Without Beginning of End' were already putting their new toy to use. Even as Valerica trembled in Placi's grip, her head bent backwards, exposing her throat - where a noticeable bulge seemed to be making its way down her neck. A similar bulge could also be seen on her previously-flat belly, ascending from her groin and seemingly heading towards her belly-button. There was no sound from her, though - not even a moan. Her mouth was in another dimension now, after all. "Very well, then. That will be all for now, Ebon." The Dremora Lord bowed with suitable respectfulness, then disappeared through a portal of his own without another word. No doubt in a hurry to join the revelry at the Orgy Without, etc. etc. etc. and help break Valerica in to the realities of her new existence.

In the meantime, the two guards - who had scrambled away in shock when their captive had exploded with such sudden and overwhelming violence - had managed to pick themselves up again, and were now standing by the door once more, nervously looking everywhere except at her. Worried, no doubt, that they were in for some kind of punishment for failing to assist in subduing the captive. Normally they'd be correct, but right now, Serana didn't feel like it. "Ronthil... go put some bandages or something on your cock, you're bleeding on the rug. Then go pull Hestla out from under whoever or _whatever_she's currently moaning beneath, and tell her there's work to be done." She instead said waspishly. "Namasur, take the prisoner and bring her down to the smithy. I want a permanent, solid-steel blindfold put in place, and similarly permanent manacles for both ankles and wrists, with sturdy chains connected to them."

She paused, pondering the best place for her new 'trophy'. "Get some attachment-points drilled into the pillars of the balcony at the back of the Great Hall..." she said thoughtfully. "Suitable for hanging this unfortunate lump there, spread-eagled, for all to see. A reminder of what happens to those who cross me and refuse my mercy." The two leaped into action promptly, heads bowed. Valerica made no attempt to escape as she was handed from Placi's powerful paws to Namasur's far less competent hands - it seemed like all the fight had gone out of her.

It_would_ make a nice display, Serana decided as Placi returned to sit by her feet, sighing in contentment as she absently petted his head. It'd be right above her as she sat at the head table in the Great Hall, almost like a decoration for her throne. Maybe she could hang a paddle or a flogger or something from one of the pillars up there - or one on each, even! Valerica's back and buttocks were still in this dimension, after all, and it'd be a shame not to take advantage of that on occasion. Glancing down at Placi, she smiled at him. "Alas, no new toy for you..." she remarked, grinning mischievously, leaning down to pet him lovingly. "Guess I'll just have to keep looking after your needs myself, hmm? When you've been good, anyway..." His happy bark suggested that he didn't mind this arrangement at all.

With a distant look in her eyes, she led her loyal pet towards her chamber's palatial bed, absently deciding that a good fucking was just what she needed after being interrupted earlier. Valerica had been the last loose thread to tie off, really. Her reign over the Volkihar Clan was now rock-solid, and the clan itself was stable, unlikely to provoke any significant response from the outside world - vampire-hunters or otherwise. After giving things a bit more time to settle down, she'd be well able to leave things in Garan's hands for a while, and head back to Placi's estate west of Whiterun for a few months. No pressure, this time - just fun. There was nothing left she really needed to do, after all. And... well, she was determined to make the most of the next few decades. She'd be able to find a new source of werewolf-blood to sate her addiction when necessary, but this half-century was all she'd get to share with the man she loved.

Far away, in Sovngarde, Alduin lifted his great head, chewing thoughtfully on the latest of these so-called 'Honored Dead' that he had hunted down, feeling its insubstantial spirit flow into his own as he devoured it. A mere thought confirmed that his obedient servants were still keeping watch over the portal into Sovngarde, ready to seal it if anyone attempted to follow him there... such as, perhaps, the Dovahkiin.

He knew of the Prophecy, after all. Indeed, as soon as he had arrived in this era, he had tried to subvert it - attempting to nip that problem in the bud, wiping out the Dovahkiin before he could grow into a threat. It hadn't worked - predictable, really. Prophecies were like that - trying to directly contradict them tended to just push them along - and had he not been so dizzy and confused from being hurled across the span of several ages by the magic of the Elder Scrolls, he would not have attempted something so foolish.

Since then, he had kept an eye on the threat, however. Whenever the Dovahkiin had slain one of his children and fed on their souls, he had sensed it. When one of the Dragon-Priests that he had deigned to revive was struck down, he knew who had done it. But lately... he'd sensed nothing of the sort. It was as if the Dovahkiin had simply vanished off the face of Tamriel, destiny and prophecy not so much_broken_ as simply... forgotten and abandoned.

A smile creased his draconic face as the last of the spirit clamped between his jaws hissed away into nonexistence. This was how you defeated fate - by ignoring it. A foolish thing indeed, to think that he, Alduin the World-Eater, could be bound by mere prophecy! Yes... once he had finished devouring all the nutritious spirits in this place, he would be ready to end this world, so pathetically overrun with pitiful mortals, and build a new one from the rubble - a world where dragons could fly unfettered by lesser spirits!

Black wings unfurled, he leaped into the cold air, dark eyes scanning for his next victim.

The End