Kitty Gonna Get Raped
A story about a Khajiit adventurer who tried to explore the wrong fort.
Dar'Zikar groaned, head throbbing as he came back around. It felt as though he'd been struck in the head with the leg bone of an ogre- something huge and heavy. His eyelids fluttered weakly before slowly opening, and he found himself laying face down on cold stone.
His muscles ached, the cold of the floor having seeped deep into his bones, and his body was sprawled in a rather uncomfortable fashion.
Another groan, this time of the 'what the hell did I do last night?!' variety left him and he shifted his arms and moving to curl his legs beneath his body. A scowl knit his felid face as something tugged at his feet and ankles, as well as his wrists. He looked at his wrists and was instantly filled with dead. Shackles encircled both of them and he made the fair assumption that his ankles were bound as well.
He lifted his ears, which caused his brain to throb angrily, and let out a weak whine at the pain. But then he listened intently. His vampiric blood ran cold in his veins as he heard marauders talking somewhere nearby, and everything came flooding back to him; he'd stumbled upon a Fort that wasn't on his map and, curious and eager, he'd entered... only to be ambushed by a group of marauders.
Shit!
He looked at himself and around, then went rigid as he realized he was completely naked. His armour, his rings, his amulets, his weapons... even his undergarments- all of them were gone. Panic closed instantly around his heart and he jerked into as much of an upright position as he could. This caused him to enter a sort of slouching crouch, and jangled the chains linking the shackles to the cold and bloodied floor. He tensed as the marauders outside went silent, his eyes widening as he heard quiet chuckles instead.
Breathing becoming quick and shallow, Dar'Zikar looked around. He was in a cell with a closed, probably locked, door. No obvious routes of escape. Trembling, he tugged desperately at the shackles on his wrist as he listened to the clicks and thuds of boots approaching.
All too soon, he heard the grating of an old key and the creaaak of a rusty iron door. He looked up, ears flattening, to see three marauders, equipped with axe or longsword, standing in the threshold of the cell. There was a Nord, an Imperial, and an Argonian. The humans stood with sick grins, the Argonian with an almost impassive look; the amphibious reptiles had few expressive facial muscles.
Dar'Zikar hissed ferally, flattening his ears back against his skull as he tried harder to free himself. His tail lashed, fuzzed over three times it's normal size, as he locked eyes with the Argonian.
"Will Uzgrul mind us using the cat before him?" asked the Imperial with an imperious sneer.
The Nord laughed and stepped into the cell, earning Dar'Zikar's attention. His frame was tall and thick, coiled with muscle and covered with an amount of blonde hair. His face was strong, yet still handsome, and he had a thick beard on his chin. "I'm sure he won't mind... He's not here to stop us, either," he said with a sick smirk. His eyes flicked to the Argonian and he stepped aside, opening his mouth to ask, "Do you want the first go, Has-Large-Cock?"
The Argonian emitted a noise that chilled Dar'Zikar's cold blood even further. He jerked back, hissing and snarling as the Argonian came closer.
Has-Large-Cock's hands raised up, removing his cuirass and tossing it aside, then quickly and deftly removing the rest of his armour, as well the clothing he wore beneath. His body was lean, with fine muscles, and his name was well earned.