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The Rites of Sanguine

By Ashir Nesharr, Priest of Mara

Foreword by Eliandar Meregua, High Priestess of Mara

What you are about to read is the original, unedited manuscript penned by Ashir. It was judged unsuitable for publication for obvious reasons, and a more... palatable, edited version is in the work for general release. The difficulty lies in removing the more lurid passages without damaging the overall morale, which is a good one to spread: That dealing with Daedric Princes, no matter which, is a certain path to damnation - only with the True Gods, such as Mara, can you find a path to the righteous life.

If you are reading this, then hopefully, you are a sage or other serious researcher into the ways of the heretical Daedric Cults, seeking the knowledge contained herein so that we may better detect and root out such heresy in the future. Thus, I will provide you with some important background information. The writer, Ashir Nesharr, was formerly an adherent of Sanguine, Daedric Prince of Debauchery and Sin, before he saw the light and entered into Mara's embrace. The manuscript is based partially on his own firsthand experience, and partially on hearsay gained from other worshippers of Sanguine during his time with them. However, regretfully, it seems that the poisonous influence of the Daedric Princes is hard to shed - when delving into the memories of his time with the Cult of Sanguine, he is often still overcome with desire as his mind plummets once more into the pits of sin. This manuscript is the result, and distasteful though it is, it provides us with valuable insight into the rites and ways of a dangerous Daedric Cult - an insight Ashir has provided us at the risk of his immortal soul. Hence, destroying it is not an option. I can only hope that this unedited script will be kept strictly confidential amongst serious researchers, and not distributed amongst the general public for their amusement - for such a thing can only lead more misguided fools into the wretched arms of the Daedric Cults...

So please, as you read this story, consider it from the standpoint of a seeker of knowledge, and do not be swept away by the lurid tales of debauchery contained therein.

The Rise and Fall of Désire Sybille, High Priestess of Sanguine

To deal with Daedric Princes is dangerous - that much is common knowledge. Everyone has heard horrible tales of those who sought power from the likes of Mehrunes Dagon, Clavicus Vile or Molag Bal, and suffered for it. And yet, there are also a small number of Daedric Princes that are generally considered benevolent - Azura is known for her adherence to beauty, and displays great concern for the wellbeing of her followers, while Meridia will lend her aid to any who fight against the scourge of the Undead - even Malacath can be said to be relatively good, since he provides shelter to the outcasts and betrayed. Yet, those same Daedric Princes are also much less likely to lend their power to selfish quests, such as a mortal's pursuit of greater power.

Thus, sometimes, those who seek power from unholy sources, but fear the cruelty of the darker Princes, will look to the middle road. Some of the Princes are known to be neither good nor evil - to rain horrors only on those who insult them, and aid those who please them, with little regard for mortal morality. Hircine, for one, is known to aid those who excel at the hunt, though his blessing - in particular, Lycantropy - is often somewhat of a double-edged sword. The Mad-God, Sheogorath, may aid or hinder whichever mortal crosses his path, as his whimsy takes him - but of course, dealing with him will destroy the sanity of all but the most mentally stable.

Thus it was that one Breton Sorceress, Désire Sybille, decided to seek the grace of Sanguine, the Daedric Prince of Debauchery and Sin. Other than Conjuration, she excelled in the branch of Illusion that dealt with the manipulation and control of minds, so she hoped to have something to bargain with. He seemed, on the surface, the ideal choice - known to enjoy the company of mortals, rarely striking out at anyone who had not directly drawn his ire, and entirely unbound by the morality of mortal men. It is to remove this foolish notion that I have decided to set pen to paper and recount this sordid tale.

Désire approached a Shrine of Sanguine with a rich offering of rare vintages and delectable delicacies from across Tamriel. She hoped to thus draw him out and strike a compact that would provide her with even greater power, for ever since she had realized that magic held the potential to control the minds of mortals, she had sought ever-more power and ever-more control. It was, indeed, her intent to draw on the power of the Deadric Princes to seize control of the Empire altogether, much like the Battlemage, Jagar Tharn, had done in the past. Though hopefully without the part where he was finally defeated and killed by the Unknown Champion.

The sweet smells of her offering drew Sanguine to the shrine from his realm in Oblivion, the Halls of Debauchery, where the feasts and orgies were neverending, and he appeared before her to swiftly devour the delicacies. As he burped and threw aside the empty bottles and plates, she bowed before him and entreated him in a respectful voice; "Oh, great Sanguine, Prince of Debauchery and Merrymaking, grant me your power and I shall use it to remake the empire in your image! Feasts and celebrations will be held in every province, and all will be free to dive into the deepest debauchery unrestrained by law or custom!"

Sanguine snorted, rolling his eyes. "Oh, great, another one. How many times do you think I've heard that song, mortal? It's a very nice song to be sure, but after so many centuries, it's starting to grate on my ears..." Désire winced, and prepared to beat a hasty retreat - she was not so foolish as to risk the ire of a Deadric Prince by trying to press him further. But then, suddenly, he leaned forwards, narrowing his eyes as he looked at her. Then a mischievous smile spread across his black lips. "Ahhh... but you? You have potential. I'll give you that. Great potential indeed. Perhaps... yes, I think we COULD make a deal after all."

Fear and hope battled within her as she looked up at him, and though his sparkling gaze made her feel deeply uncomfortable, it was too much of an advantage not to press. "What do you have in mind, o Great Prince?" Sanguine stroked his chin, and then nodded. "Well, I can't just give you the power you want for nothing, you understand. If I gave it to you, I'd have to give it to anyone who came asking, and then where would we be? Ah, but there's a simple way to handle that. I'll make you my Priestess, and if you perform my Rites, I will grant you all the power you desire, and then some!"

Ambition swelled within her as she saw her goal within reach, but still she was cautious. "What does your rites consist of, o Great Prince?" Sanguine shrugged. "Well, that's really up to you, in a sense. It is simply a matter of giving in to your own desires. Indulge yourself in whatever way you want. The closer you get to your true desires, the more you let yourself be absorbed in your wants and needs, the greater the power I will grant you. It's as simple as that. Oh, and entirely un-binding, of course. If you decide that my power isn't worth the price, simply stop performing the Rites. I won't mind - promise!"

The deal seemed almost too good to be true - in fact, she would generally have considered it too good to be true, period, but he had offered her a clear-cut escape-clause at the end - a Deadric Prince could twist a promise in many ways, but he couldn't break it. So obviously, if things got out of hand, she could simply stop, give up, and maybe try something else. It was too good to pass up. And thus, she bowed before him, and accepted his terms. With a touch to the back of her neck, Sanguine anointed her as his Priestess, and then - in a burst of flame amidst a peal of laughter - he was gone.

Thus imbued with Sanguine's blessing, Désire returned to the cities of Cyrodiil to consider her next move. To indulge herself seemed simple on the surface, but the more she thought about it, the more limited her options seemed. She desired good food, as anyone would, but if she indulged herself in that, she would soon lose her curvy form, and she was too vain to consider that. She also knew well that those who overindulged themselves in this manner often lived short lives. And when she took the throne, she decided, she wanted to be able to FIT in it.

Strong drink and drugs from faraway Elseweyr was another option - Moon Sugar, Skooma, or simply wine and ale was an easy indulgence. But they held within them the threat of addiction - if she allowed herself to become dependent on such things, her escape-clause would swiftly disappear. Also, almighty sorcerous power and drunkenness was a poor mix, she decided. Liable to get her a lot of attention before she was ready for it.

Thus, in the end, she settled on the third, perhaps most-obvious indulgence: The pleasures of the flesh. She already had not-insignificant resources at her disposal, and it was thus little trouble to hire a number of pretty young men to serve as her harem. Mostly Imperials, whose excellence in trade made them quite open to trading their own bodies away.

At first, she would simply take a young man to her bed every night, and direct him to please her as best he could. Some of them were long-time professionals, and they certainly knew their trade, but while she rode a different young man to several orgasms every night, she never really felt fulfilled, and while she sensed a trickle of power joining her own from Oblivion, it was nowhere near enough for her needs.

One of her regular hires noticed her apparent dissatisfaction, and suggested to her that perhaps, if one man was not enough, she should try two. The idea seemed quite logical to her, and the very next night, TWO young men joined her in her bed. With one beneath her pushing into her wet pussy, and another behind her, carefully working his way into her tight ass - the use of which she had indulged in from early on - she did, indeed, find greater pleasure. She had more orgasms than before, and for a little while, felt like she had truly indulged herself. But while the trickle of power grew somewhat greater, it was still too little, and she had to admit that even with two men, she didn't really feel fulfilled, and certainly didn't feel like she was indulging in overwhelming debauchery.

So, she decided to try three. That night, another young man joined the two, and this one found his cock enveloped in a mouth more accustomed to chanting spells than sucking dick. She still managed to draw out his seed, however, and was surprised to find that she rather enjoyed the bitter-salty taste. The flow of energy from Oblivion noticeably increased at this, but it still wasn't enough, and furthermore, tripling her nightly expenses was eroding her resources rapidly. She wanted to see if adding even more men to her indulgences would help grow her power, but it was becoming clear that at this rate, her money would run out before she could reach a level of power suitable for overthrowing an empire.

Still, she HAD grown stronger... and so, she decided to test her growing might while saving her gold at the same time. Rather than hiring professionals to service her in the night, she wielded her powers of mind-manipulation against any man who caught her eye, charming them beyond hope of control, and drawing them into her bedroom. Thus, she was able to easily upscale her nights of pleasure, drawing a dozen or more virile youngsters in there, where they would do their very best to please her throughout the night. And certainly, while she only had room for three at a time, she found that quantity DID have a quality all its own - with each man quickly exchanged for another as he grew exhausted, she would end each night with her groin and bedsheets sticky with bodily fluids, and a stomach pleasantly full of sperm. And her power grew even more.

However, her reputation grew far faster than her power. Many of the young men she lured to her bed had girlfriends or wives, who inevitably noticed their absence and suspected unfaithfulness. When they all followed those tracks to the same house, Désire quickly gained notoriety as a slut and a home-wrecker. It grew harder to draw men to her, but with her powers growing faster now, she was able to overcome any reluctance on their part, and her nightly orgies carried on. That is, until a local wizard sensed her use of mind-magics and reported her to the guard. In a heartbeat, the entire city turned against her, and she had to flee with little more than the clothes on her back to avoid getting lynched. She knew that, if she unleashed her growing powers in full, she could nearly level the city - but that would immediately draw the attention of the Legion, and she still wasn't nearly ready to take on the empire as a whole. So she gritted her teeth and ran.

Seeking to escape her newfound notoriety - which had spread swiftly to most of Cyrodiil, as only a really dirty story can - she headed north, to the isolated, snow-covered reached of Skyrim. She quickly realized, however, that the small towns of Skyrim was unsuitable for her pursuits - rumors spread like wildfire, and she could barely manage to stay two or three nights in each hold before being forced to move on, less she wind up repeating the unfortunate end of her stay in Cyrodiil.

However, though her 'nightly orgies' were a thing of the past, and she rarely had a chance to bring more than half a dozen men to her bed at most, she found that Skyrim was not without its silver lining. Its people, the Nords, were tall, muscular, and hardy, and she found that this translated into greater skill in bed than what she had gotten accustomed to in Cyrodiil. Not only was the average Nord man noticeably better hung than an Imperial, she also found their large, muscular frames laboring above her, pressing her into the sheets by sheer mass while she scent of stale sweat and poorly-tanned furs wafted down from them, strangely appealing.

But while this newfound indulgence brought some measure of new power with it, the fact that she could indulge herself thus only half the time - spending days on the road between holds to avoid attracting too much attention - was causing her powers to ebb. She had to find a solution, and fast.

Her travels, the very source of the problem, wound up offering that very solution. While on the road, she noticed that a surprising number of caravans plied the otherwise inhospitable roads of Skyrim - groups of hardy men, often guarded by burly mercenaries, dragging carts of valuable goods across the land. There were also messengers, travelers, and the occasional heavily-armed adventurer on the roads. All of them far from the prying eyes of guards, or the whispered rumors of the holds. Inspiration struck her, but she needed more power to carry it out. One good, full-sized orgy might be enough, but pulling that off without being run out of the province, that was the hard part.

Ironically, the solution for that ALSO came by way of one of her main problems - namely, those whispered rumors. They weren't all about her, after all. During one of her trips, she overheard some caravaners whispering a sordid, dirty tale that didn't feature her in it at all - at least, not yet. Apparently, the city guards of Windhelm were an unpleasant lot to have a run-in with, particularly if you happened to not be a Nord. Rumors had it that young women, in particular, would do well to steer clear of them, since any misdemeanor could get them thrown in the dungeons... where the guards would take great pleasure in 'reeducating' her at some length.

Désire licked her lips. This had potential, all right. Swiftly, she changed her destination to Windhelm, and upon arrival, she found - sure enough - that the guards were throwing her a lot of dirty looks, seemingly based solely on her fine, elf-like features. Deciding that it was the best plan she was likely to come up with anytime soon, she proceeded to steal an apple from a stand in the market, in full view of a guard, while trying to make it seem like she was hiding it without actually doing so. The guard quickly jumped in to stop her, and when she - in a whiny voice - told him that she couldn't pay, he hauled her off to the local prison while muttering about 'damn foreign beggars'.

Once secured in her prison-cell, she set to work with her Deadricly-enhanced mind-magics, reaching out to the guards patrolling the jail, as well as in the neighboring barracks. It was more subtle work than she was used to, but not as hard as she'd feared. Sanguine's power seemed to sense her intentions and backed her up, lifting her mind easily through the unaware guards to do her work. The few female guards that were in attendance suddenly felt terribly tired, and went to bed. The men, meanwhile, started to feel their libido rise, lust growing towards the uncontrollable.

Back in her cell, she took some care to lay down on the simple straw bed in a way that outlined her svelte figure, slightly pulling apart the simple prison-robe she had been given to show some cleavage and leg. She wasn't used to having to visually seduce her lovers, but in this case, she figured it could only help.

Sure enough, it wasn't long before one of the guards patrolling outside her cell stopped there, apparently entranced by her heaving chest. With a carefully-faked yawn, she stretched, giving him a good look down her smooth legs, before lazily giving him the eye. Now, the enchantment was complete, flashing through the minds of all the guards - their lust was reaching uncontainable levels, and it was all focused on her.

Soon, several more guards were outside her cell, muttering to each other, their eyes constantly drawn to her nubile body. Then, one of them raised her voice. "You. Breton beggar. You want to get out of here, right?" She nodded. "All right. Just do as we say, and you'll be out tonight, no questions asked, your crime forgotten. What do you say?" Grinning, she accepted his terms. Little did he know that he was playing right into her hand.

Quickly, she was pulled from her cell and escorted - amongst a rapidly-growing throng of guards - to a remote store-room, away from prying eyes. The pile of canvas-covered straw there was a far cry from the silken bed she'd performed her rites on back in Cyrodiil, but it'd serve. Soon, the room rang with the sound of metal hitting rock as the guards stripped off their heavy armor, licking their lips as they regarded her body with hungry eyes. She found their possessive gazes strangely pleasant as she stripped off her prison-clothing unhesitantly, giving them a full view of her naked body, in all its golden-skinned beauty.

As she was forced down unto the straw bed by a large, muscular Nord who smelled strongly of metal and sweat, she realized that there was something different this time. Usually, when she took men to her bed, she was entirely in control - through magic or gold - but while the same was true this time, strictly speaking, her control was subtle. For this to work, the guards had to keep thinking it was all THEIR idea. She had to pretend to submit to their desires.

Also, there was a LOT of them. More than she'd realized. At least 20 men were crowded into the small storeroom, in various states of undress, and through the subtle mind-control spell, she could sense at least a dozen more outside, waiting their turn. Well, that was part of the point, wasn't it? This was an even bigger orgy than those she had practiced back in Cyrodiil, and thus a greater Rite - it would give her the power she needed for the next step in her plan. Still... it was an awful lot of very big, very strong men, who all believed her to be a submissive prisoner, serving their desires in return for her freedom. The thought sent a delicious shiver down her spine... that is, the thought of the power it would bring her, obviously, she assured herself.

One after the other, three Nords laid down on top of her, driving her into the straw with their muscular weight, smelling strongly of sweat and masculinity. Their seed filled her pussy and dripped out on the straw. But the other guards were getting impatient, quickly, and when the next one stepped in, he leaned down to look her in the eye, licking his lips before asking if she had any experience using the OTHER hole. She tried her best to fake shyness, looking away before confirming that yes, she had... a bit of experience with that.

He grinned as he thrust his cock into her sopping wet pussy a few times, then he grabbed her around the waist and rolled over, putting himself down on the straw and leaving her on top. Then, he pushed up her chest so she was sitting on him, lifted her legs, and spun her around so that her back was turned towards his face. The sensation of his cock rotating inside her gave had a minor orgasm all by itself. Then, as she knew he would, he lifted her off of it, and ordered her to reposition the slickened-wet cock at her asshole so that he could push her down on it.

She obeyed, and then winced as she felt him push into her asshole. It was true that she had experience there, of course, but always before, she'd had her lovers use various oils for ample lubrication - in this case, the only lube was a bit of her own pussy-juices, and some of the sperm left over by her previous lovers. The friction was noticeably worse... though, it didn't really feel THAT bad, she decided. A slight burning sensation in her ass... but it only added to the pleasure.

Of course, the next part was also predictable. The man beneath her pulled her back so that she was resting on his hairy chest, then suggested that someone might want to occupy her wide-open, dripping-wet pussy. Helpfully, she spread her legs to show the others what he was talking about, and it wasn't a second before she found herself sandwiched between two muscular, sweat-smelling Nords.

Even as they flexed their pelvises to drive their twin cocks deep into her two lower orifices, another guard - inspired by the example of his peers - approached her head, and silently offered her his cock. Naturally, she took it leaning her head back to envelop his cockhead in her warm mouth. She'd never done this in quite this position before - everything was upside down - but it was all good. New things tried, new debaucheries found, it would only improve the Rite and grand her greater power.

She hadn't really considered the full implications of the change, however. Feeling the warm moistness of her mouth around his cockhead, the guard instinctively thrust forwards, pushing his shaft past her tongue and into her throat. That, she'd never tried before either, but as she felt her gag-reflex quickly getting out of control, she rapidly suppressed it. Almost instinctively, she uses a bit of Alteration-magic to warp her own throat, removing the reflex. After all, throwing up at this point would completely ruin the rite.

The guard, feeling her tight throat clamp down on his cock, wasn't aware of this - he just knew that it felt really good. And so, he quickly started thrusting in earnest, turning her throat into a third cock-sleeve, driving his hard shaft repeatedly into her to the root. Again and again, she found her nose nested directly between his dangling testicles, breathing their musk directly - when she could breathe at all. It was a heady smell, indicating strongly that they had spent a lot of time sealed inside his armor, and not a lot of time getting washed.

It didn't take long before he came, dumping a nut-load of sperm directly into her stomach, bypassing her mouth entirely. This annoyed her, since she had grown to rather enjoy the taste of it, but she made do by running her tongue over the length of his shaft as he pulled out, picking up some tantalizing tastes from the head.

The others, however, had noticed the display, and weren't slow in duplicating it. Another guard was soon driving his cock into her tender throat, and this one even had the good grace to pull halfway out before he came, filling her mouth with his cum, allowing her to savor it before she swallowed.

The guards above and below, meanwhile, had finally reached their limit - the awkwardness of the position they were in prevented them from thrusting very far or very fast, but she didn't particularly mind, and neither - it seemed - did they. Her ass and pussy was once again filled with cum, leaking out only slowly as the man beneath her pushed her off to make room for the next set of guards...

The orgy carried on for hours, with numerous different positions attempted in order to allow her to pleasure as many guards as possible, with the least possible amount of awkwardness in the exchange. Two particularly burly guards even picked her up bodily, with the one behind her holding up her legs as he drove his cock into her ass from a standing position, another standing in front of her and servicing her pussy as she held on tightly to his thick neck. Being raised and dropped repeatedly onto a pair of rock-hard cocks was highly pleasurable, though she had a feeling that the two were just showing off their strength and endurance for the rest.

They usually came back to the first position in the end, though, since it was the only one that allowed for a proper throat-fuck. Load after load of cum was blown into her stomach, from either end, filling it out with a pleasant sense of warmth. Absorbed in the pleasure, she was quickly forgetting the technicalities of her spell, that she was actually controlling them - and instead, simply surrendering herself to their pleasure.

When one of the guards, exhausted after a particularly violent session of throat-fucking, leaned over her to catch his breath, she found his sweaty balls dangling temptingly right above her face, and without a thought, proceeded to suck them into her mouth, gently massaging them with her tongue and palate as she cleaned the sweat and grime off of them. The guard, at first, was petrified by the unusual sensation, but then relaxed as he felt his cock hardening again at her gentle ministrations.

After that, she found a hairy ballsack filling her mouth as often as a hard cock, as each guard to step up to her mouth took the opportunity to have their testicles treated before blowing their loads. It didn't take her long to realize that their loads were thicker, stronger and more plentiful when she'd given their sperm-factory a once-over with her tongue beforehand, and while filing that information away for future use, she threw herself into the ball-licking with renewed gusto.

As the hours ticked by, the Rite continued. All of the guards had had a turn by now, but none of them were satisfied with that. They all came back for seconds. Some stayed for thirds. A few, even after that. After most of the guards had worked themselves into exhaustion and staggered back to the barracks with their helmets askew, a couple were sticking around still - those who were most affected by the spell, or maybe just the ones with the most stamina.

She was, by then, quite exhausted herself, her mind half-asleep from all the action. The fact that, with the same couple of guys rapidly switching between her various holes, the cock in her mouth more often than not still bore the heat - and taste - of her own ass, barely registered in her mind. And it certainly didn't seem as important as sucking another delicious load of cum out of it. By the end of it, she was thoroughly caked in partially-dried cum, her face barely recognizable under it all, while her ass, groin and thighs were in even worse shape. She straw bed beneath her was thoroughly soggy, with the part between her legs being basically reduced to a thick porridge of hay and cum.

When at last the last of the guards left her, she fell asleep there, nostrils twitching as she breathed deeply of the thick smell of cum with every expansion of her lungs, filling her dreams with scenes easily as sordid as those who had gone before. She slept for a full day, which was hardly surprising seeing as the orgy had lasted most of the night - at least 5 solid hours - and when she woke up, she found herself loosely covered by her robe and her backpack, containing her meager belongings, thrown there by a guard while she was unconscious along with a note simply stating that she was free to go.

And go she did, breezing past the guards who had pleasured her the night before, feeling their hungry eyes on her, making her shiver. She halfway wanted to stay for another night, since it had all worked out so splendidly the night before, but she had a plan to carry out, and after the debauchery she had just undergone, she felt the power of Sanguine flow freely through her. It was more of his power than she had ever wielded before, though if anything, the increased flow merely made it clear to her that she had still only tasted the tiniest fragment of the Daedric Prince's enormous power. Her plan would soon change that.

After stealing a horse - easily accomplished with a bit of misdirecting mind-magic applied to the owner - she set out into the wilderness of Skyrim seeking an appropriate location. The entire region was rife with both natural caverns and abandoned mines, and it was such a location she sought - one that was not too far from the main roads, and not too close to any of the large cities. She found one without too much difficulty - the power of Sanguine within her gave her some measure of expanded consciousness, and she found that she could see far and deep if she strained herself a bit.

It was a smallish cavern, but suitable for her needs - its previous occupant, a rather ornery troll, was swiftly ejected, sent howling into the wilds, and then she set to work. She hadn't forgotten how she had suddenly dived into Alteration-magic earlier, performing a rather complex spell on her own throat with ease, despite having little experience in that school. It seemed that the Daedra didn't see magic as divided into separate fields like that - to them, it was all just one thing: Magic, the art of making your thoughts reality. And now that she was partaking in this Deadric power, she could thus similarly wield every type of magic with equal facility.

With this power of Alteration, she found it easy to reshape the small cavern into something different. To move the stones around to form a relatively flat stone floor, to move the earth aside to make new corridors and rooms... she could feel that her powers were still quite limited, but she had enough of it in her now to transform the cavern into a Shrine of Sanguine, similar to the one she had visited when first she met him, back in Cyrodiil. An altar was raised to him, shaped from the living rock, which she hoped would strengthen the effect of the Rites she intended to carry out there, and she carved out a small living-space for herself as well.

Then, she cast her thoughts out into the world around her. Back in the Windhelm prison, she had been surprised at how easy it was to reach out and touch the mind of others, even over a distance, through walls and doors. It made sense, now. This was the power of a Daedric Prince, after all, and they routinely projected themselves across the immense distance between Oblivion and Tamriel. Thus, even with only a fraction of Sanguine's power within her, she was easily able to reach out across miles and miles of land, to the nearby highways.

From those roads, she drew merchant-caravans, roving bands of mercenaries, squadrons of marching soldiers, and even solitary travelers. Her mind-snare caught them, and dragged them to her shrine where she called on their aid to perform her Sanguine Rites. Then, they would return to the roads and their journey, the rituals a foggy memory that seemed more like a wet dream than any kind of reality to them. Thus, she could carry out her rites effectively, without drawing attention.

At first, she returned to the same model she had used in the cities of Cyrodiil - the mentally-dominated men were directed to please her as best they could. But she found that, in spite of these orgies, her powers were waning, never coming close to the level she had felt after the great orgy in Windhelm's prison.

The difference wasn't hard to figure out - she could still clearly remember the sensation of surrender, as she let the guards have their way with her, following their lead. The idea made her somewhat uncomfortable, but that was what 'dark indulgences' was all about, wasn't it? And in the end, she was still fully in control, thanks to her spells. And so, when next she snared a group of soldiers from the road and brought them into the Shrine, rather than directing and controlling them, she simple flooded their minds with lust, presented herself naked before them, and let nature take its course.

The difference was palpable. Being manhandled by their rough hands, thrown from soldier to soldier as each sated his lust using her body in whatever way he pleased, filled her with a warm sensation of wickedness and dark enjoyment. This was truly the essence of 'debauchery', she realized. Surrendering yourself to your desires. No wonder she hadn't drawn much power before. Even as she was left in a puddle of sweat and sperm, exhausted soldiers snoring around her, her delicate skin bruised in various places from their rough handling, she knew that this was the way to go in the future.

This, in turn, brought new dark pleasures to her. Her 'slaves', left to their own desires, would push her into performing erotic deeds she would never ordinarily have thought of. In the heat of the Rites, it never seemed like such a bad idea to go through with it, either. All just part of the Ritual, after all. When a pair of burly Redguards delighted in filling both her bowels and her mouth with their hot piss, she didn't shy away, spit, or throw up - she drank it down without a thought, and found that its sour tartness complimented the cum on her tongue nicely. When a robed Altmer pushed his boyishly-shaped buttocks into her face and told her to lick his arse, she did so, reasoning that it wasn't so different from all the times she'd taken a cock fresh from her own ass to her mouth.

Perhaps it was her subconscious acceptance of these things as being par for the course where 'debauchery' was concerned, that drew similar perversions out of many more of her guests. Every group seemed to have at least a couple of real perverts, and soon it was a surprise if a Rite DIDN'T see her licking the sweat off a man's hairy asshole, while feeling several bladderfuls of hot piss mixing with the cum in her belly, at least once.

This went on for a while, but one day, when she brought in a merchant caravan, a new indulgence was revealed to her. It hadn't been long after her establishment of the shrine that she'd decided it would be a waste to simply leave the women in a magically-induced sleep while she entertained herself with the men, and had commanded a few of the better-looking ladies to join her and the menfolk in the Rite. She had already developed quite a taste for cum, and was curious to see if female fluids were as tasty. She had not been disappointed, and since then, had often brought women - when available - into the rituals as well, so that she could let her tongue sink into their pussies and draw out the sweet-and-salty juices within. And of course, their piss was just as tart and salty as the men's.

But on this caravan, when she flooded the mind of one pretty young female merchant with lust, rather than beeline for Désire, she instead rifled through her pack before approaching. What she was carrying appeared to be a polished-smooth Horker-tusk attached to some leather straps, and Désire watched curiously, the woman strapped the device to her groin, leaving the curved tusk sticking out like an ivory cock. Always eager to try something new, she spread her legs for the woman - while one of her male peers had his hard cock buried deep in her ass, one might mention - and allowed the device to penetrate her.

It was an interesting new sensation, all right. The ivory was hard and smooth, far more so than even the hardest cock, and cool to the touch. And while the men would blow their load and lose stamina, the woman continued to work her pussy over with the smooth tusk for hours. The woman was a tall, butch Nord, and her thrusts did not leave much to be desired as she brought Désire to several orgasms.

After this experience, it didn't take long for Désire to gather the necessary ingredients from a couple of merchant caravans - she'd been 'borrowing' things from them from the start, to help make her little home more comfortable - to make a few devices of her own. She dubbed them 'tuskers', and found plentiful use for them. When the men had screwed themselves into exhaustion, usually leaving her as a sperm-covered, barely-responsive mess, the women - with tuskers strapped to their groins - would take over, the smooth ivory making the most deliciously slimy sounds as it dug into her cum-filled holes. With this, the average duration of her Rites nearly doubled.

This, however, was nothing compared to the revelation that followed soon after. She had, a few times, encountered Argonians amongst the caravaners, and had found that despite their inhuman appearance, they weren't really that different where it counted. Their cocks were more streamlined, perhaps designed for underwater mating, but they worked much the same way. The main difference was their long, strong, and highly agile tongues, which had brought her a few tremendous orgasms as they dug into her pussy deep enough to tickle her uterus.

The revelation came when finally she encountered Khajiit. A whole caravan of them, in fact, with just over a dozen males and half that in females. Initially, it was just a curiosity - she was looking forwards to finding out how their fur would feel when they were on top of her - but as the orgy got underway, things took an unexpected turn.

Their cocks, as it turned out, were noticeably different from those of humans, elves, orcs, and even Argonians. While not terribly large or wide, their cockheads were crowned with a brush-like arrangement of bony barbs. As the lust-addled Khajiit piled on her, she felt them tearing at her insides, sending eddies of pain through her body. Their claws, too, came out of their hiding, raking lightly across her exposed breast and her juice-covered thighs in what might have been loving gestures amongst the big cats themselves.

Even as she writhed in pain, the thought of using her mental magick to push them away did not occur to her. There were still hot cocks inside of her, after all, and somehow, the pain just made the pleasure all the more expressed. And she knew that whatever damage was done, she could easily repair with Restoration-magics. And so, she submitted to their barbed cocks and their raking claws. Soon, she was tasting her own blood on their shafts as dicks that had recently vacated her nether holes found their way to her throat. The Khajiit made good use of their natural agility in their mating, practically crawling all over her, and while none of them lasted terribly long, they all seemed to have even more repeat visits in them than she was used to. And the fur, well, it felt as delightfully soft against her bare skin as she had hoped.

After that session, having used her magic to heal herself, she realized that very little real damage had been done - it was all just scratches, albeit in sensitive places, and it had somehow made the whole thing more fun. And what's more, she felt her power rising to new heights as the gate to Sanguine's power opened even wider. It wasn't something she would've thought of trying normally, but the catlike Khajiit had brought it to her attention.

A few caravans later, she found herself annoyed by the fact that her power, though still strong, was dropping a bit compared to when she'd entertained the Khajiit. Surely, Khajiit trade-caravans couldn't be that rare. She just had to search more specifically, for feline minds, and draw them there. THAT would grow her power. And so she did - and it wasn't long after casting out her mental net that she sensed something - not a caravan, but a solitary mind. Good enough. She drew it close.

What entered the Shrine, however, wasn't a traveling Khajiit adventurer or merchant, but something a tad more... bestial. One of the large Sabercats that prowl the wastes of Skyrim, preying on lesser beasts (and the occasional unprepared traveler). Her mental search had found a feline, all right, but failed to account for sentience. The large cat, however, was quite docile, easily controlled by her spells, and while she was just about to send it away, her curiosity was perked. Was those funny barbs a unique trait of the Khajiit, or did all felines have them? She had to find out.

And so, she dived underneath the quietly-rumbling Sabercat, only to find that his equipment was safely stored in a sheath, away from sight. Annoyed, she did what she'd usually do - flooded the beast's mind with lust, while still keeping it restrained. Sure enough, out it came, and she gasped. It was barbed, all right, but more importantly, it was significantly bigger and broader than what any of the Khajiit she had entertained had been packing. Easily the size of what most of the Nords were equipped with, but those didn't come with barbs. Maybe it was just the harsh environment of the north that made 'em grow so big...

She licked her lips uncertainly. What would something like that feel like? Stretching her out like the Nords, but pulling at her insides like the Khajiit, adding the spice of pain to the stew of pleasure... and the fur was so nice and soft over her head. And really, what difference did it make? When she exerted her control over sentient minds, they were little more than rutting animals anyway. Wasn't much of a jump from that to an ACTUAL rutting animal.

With justification thus well in place, she bent over the altar of Sanguine, and released her hold over the big cat, letting the lust she had implanted into it, drive it forwards. It did not disappoint. In a leap, it was on her, its huge, muscular body pushing her into the altar, one heavy paw resting on the altar while the other, on her back, pushed her even harder into the unyielding stone, the claws barely poking out to touch her skin - not cutting, really, just reminding her that they were there.

It took a few jabs before the beast found her hole, despite her best efforts at spreading her legs and raising her ass to give him easy access. And even when his large, barbed cock pushed its way into her pussy, it was tentative at best. The angle didn't seem to suit him, and the copious lubrication made it hard for him to stay inside. After a few deliciously painful thrusts, he slipped outside again, and his next poke found another hole.

The large, barely-lubricated cock pushed its way into her asshole, and she found herself simultaneously assailed by the burning sensation of a poorly-lubricated anal entry, the feeling of being full of hot cock, the softly-furred weight pushing down upon her with renewed eagerness, and the expectation of feeling those barbs digging into her most sensitive regions very soon. She came almost immediately, squeezing down on the unyielding rigidity of the Sabercat's cock. It was astounding. She'd never come so quickly before, with just one cock, barely inside her.

And then the cat began to ride her. Every pull was agony, every push was delight. The guttural growl from above her seemed to resonate through its muscular body and into hers, shaking her to her bones. Or maybe that was just the half-dozen orgasms she seemed to accumulate in a remarkably short period of time. She came with nearly every other stroke, or so maybe it was all just one big orgasm, flooding back every time it was just about to recede.

And then the big cat came - jetting a thin stream of hot cum into her rectum - the show was just beginning. With a mind flooded by unnatural lust, he wasn't about to stop there. The cum merely provided additional lubrication, enabling him to work faster and harder. Man or beast, you don't survive long in Skyrim without being tough, and the wild Sabercats were amongst the toughest around, capable of running for days without rest or food.

All of this endurance was now poured into Désire, who soon found herself sliding in and out of consciousness, overwhelmed by pleasure, pain, and plain old exhaustion. For nearly 6 hours, nonstop, the Sabercat fucked her, and by the end of it, there was as much blood as cum dripping from her tautly-stretched asshole. Finally worn down, he collapsed on top of her, his weight making it hard for her to breathe. He was still lodged inside of her, semi-hard, and seemed disinclined to move. Even her mental control was useless - he COULDN'T move until he had rested.

And so, lodged between hard stone and a cat too heavy for her to move, she slept, comforted by the warmth of his cock (and his dozen-or-so loads of cum) within her. She barely woke up when he sleepily opened up his bladder, emptying it into her and making the countless cuts on her lower intestine sting. She came from that alone, barely conscious, enjoying the eddies of the orgasm as she drifted back into sleep.

Hours later, when the cat had rested, they both awoke, and he moved his mass off of her before collapsing sideways on the floor, still too tired for any major exertion. She, stiff from the bent-over position she'd held for the better part of a day, stumbled to her feet and applied Restoration-magic to both her aching joints, and her ass - though, with the time passed, that one seemed to have mostly healed on its own, leaving behind countless tiny scabs that made her insides itch delightfully.

Looking down, she noticed that the Sabercat's cock was still out of its sheath, stained red (and a little bit brown) from its long stay in her bowels. Without thinking, she kneeled down and wrapped her lips around it, cleaning the blood and filth off of it with her tongue. It seemed like the natural thing to do, somehow, to thank him for all the pleasure he'd given her. Then, almost as an afterthought, she proceeded to lick his asshole for a bit, remembering that a lot of men seemed to enjoy that a lot. It tasted different than a human or elfish one, she decided. Kind of... wild. Not any worse, really. Then she threw a chunk of meat from her food-stores to the cat, and left it with a mental order to return to the wilds after eating, before staggering to bed for some real rest.

The sabercat left her with a lasting impression - and a significant jump in power. Daedric energy coursed through her like never before. She used it to further enhance the Shrine, reasoning that she'd be staying there for a while, so she might as well make something out of it. The grand Alteration-magic she wove turned the shrine - once a natural cavern - into something resembling a normal building. Behind the altar, she drew an oversized statue of Sanguine himself, grinning roguishly while looking down upon the altar, out of the living stone. This part, she noticed, was suspiciously easy - presumably, Sanguine himself had lent some of his will to forming the intricate statue.

With the modifications complete, she still had time to consider her recent discoveries as she guided yet another ordinary caravan into her clutches. Mating with that Sabercat had been spur-of-the-moment, but it had greatly magnified her powers (not to mention giving her an endless stream of orgasms). Drawing in more sabercats seemed like the obvious next step, but there really weren't that many of them, and she was curious as to what part of the act had really been the main clincher. Was it simply trying something new? The pain she endured (and enjoyed)? Or maybe the act of mating with an animal? She needed to... experiment.

Fortunately, the next caravan brought her the means to do just that. In addition to the general goods a trade-caravan could be expected to carry, this one was also transporting a number of stud dogs to Markath, where a well-known dog-breeder was waiting to receive them. The dogs were big, muscular, thick-furred to withstand the cold, and extremely virile. She found herself drooling more readily over them, than the muscle-bound Nords who were their keepers.

Still, the dogs were more easily restrained than the men, who were already rippling with lust. And so, she allowed herself to indulge in the usual debauchery, thinking of it as an appetizer for what was to come. Maybe because of the sordid thoughts at the front of her mind, however, the mixed group of Bretons, Redguards and Nords who made up the caravan's men, seemed even more driven towards perversion than the ordinary lot. Not only did they all screw her with an unusual - though not unpleasant - degree of violence, more than half of them were also eager to empty their bladders down her throat, preferring to leave their cockheads directly on her tongue rather than force it down her throat, ensuring that she tasted every sour drop of it.

But, after the last ballsack had been tongue-washed, and the last load of cum blasted up her ass, the men fell back, exhausted - while she felt more awake than ever, eager for what came next. She called over the dogs - 8 big brutes, all male - and then draped herself over the edge of the altar before releasing all control over them, allowing them to act on the lust that now filled their bestial minds. In the blink of an eye, the first of the hounds was on top of her, his fur-covered body not quite as muscular and heavy as the Sabercat's, but still enough so to push her into the altar with some force. At least, if this one exhausted himself to the point of unconsciousness as well, she SHOULD be able to lift him off by main force.

Like before, however, it seemed that their respective anatomies were ill-suited for ordinary intercourse. His first few jabs at her pussy mostly just sent his smoothly-pointed cockhead slipping down the well-lubricated slit, giving her a tantalizing sense of what she was dealing with, but little else. Well, she already knew the solution to this, she thought as she reached back underneath the dog's furry stomach to pull her asscheeks apart, angling her rear end to give him an easy entry.

Sure enough, he found THAT mark easily enough, his smooth, hot cock drilling fully into her asshole in a single stroke - it had, after all, been nicely stretched and lubricated already by those who came before him. There were no barbs, she immediately noticed, with a slight sting of regret. However, there WAS an odd bump at the bottom of his cock, a slight bulge that stretched her asshole unusually wide as it passed through. That, she figured, would feel quite nice going in and out.

Of course, as anyone who've ever seen two dogs mating (which Désire, as it happened, never had) could probably tell you, that wasn't how it would work. Instead, once his canine cock had been fully embedded within her, the bulge inflated, growing rapidly - this peculiar organ, generally called a 'knot', will generally tie two dogs together for the duration of their mating and some time after that. And, as it turned out, it worked quite well on human women too.

The knot swelled to the size of a large apple, filling her ass, and making her sphincter bulge outwards from the pressure. The bottom few inches of her ass were thus stretched to easily twice the width it had ever been before, sending shocks of a whole new sensation rushing up her spine even as the dog, satisfied that it was well-attached, began to move. He fucked her with furious speed, as dogs are wont to, driving his cock into her wish a frequency that would have been impossible if not for the knot that handily kept him from slipping out. Of course, the forces thus put to work not only drove his pointy cockhead as deep as it would go into her bowels, it also pulled hard on the swollen knot, pushing outwards against the stretched sphincter, gradually pulling it open as the knot sought to escape.

With her sphincter and ass stretched wide to the point of bursting, and the hound's hot dick drilling into her with incredible speed, she came, uncontrollably and with great force. Her orgasm lasted for several minutes as the dog rutted within her, until finally he came, shooting a great load into her bowels, sealed there by his swollen knot. Then, even as Désire slowly returned to her senses in the wake of the receding orgasm, he simply jumped off of her, flipping one leg over her back, to turn around and stand ass-to-ass with her - still connected by his rock-hard cock and swollen knot.

Taking her cues from the way the hound had settled down, she guessed that the knot would take a while to deflate to the point where he could move, allowing the next of the hounds access to her ass, and felt a pang of annoyance. Well, she still had that pleasantly-full feeling that only came from having a big, hot cock buried inside of her, and the new sensation of having her ass widely-stretched was still there - and still quite enjoyable despite the pain inherent therein - but around her, 7 more dogs were prowling, waiting their turn, and she so desperately wanted to service them as well.

Well, it wasn't as if she had no empty holes... all it took was an implanted suggestion in their minds, a rather straightforward thought at that, and one of the dogs jumped up on the altar to approach her head. His cock was already out of its sheathe, allowing her to get a good look at a canine dick for the first time - it was bright-red, very veiny, smooth without a marked cockhead, and had a characteristic bulge at the lower end. It was also gleaming wet, indicating that it came with its own lubrication. It looked delicious. Eagerly, she opened her mouth while lowering her head, straightening her throat as best she could in this position.

The dog mounted her head easily, driving his thick cock into her throat. Like before, the knot swelled quickly as it felt the enclosure of wet, hot tightness... but this time, rather than locking itself inside her sphincter, it locked itself behind her teeth. With his cock thus lodged solidly inside her throat, she found it difficult to breathe, and spots began to appear in her field of vision. Annoyed at having such a simple need interfere with the Rite, she turned her Alterist magic on her own throat like she had done once before, though this time, doing a somewhat more thorough job. A few simple modifications, and she could breathe through her nose despite the meat-whistle blocking her throat. Better yet, her nose was currently buried deep in the groin-fur of the dog, practically resting against the edge of the sheathe that usually housed his cock. Every breath she took was thick with the hound's male musk and sweat.

She enjoyed that scent even as the dog above her began to work her throat in earnest, screwing it every bit as fast and hard as the other one had gone at her ass. Her throat, of course, had none of the sensitive tissue of her groin. She couldn't have an orgasm from this. And yet, the feeling of the dog pumping away at her face, pushing into her throat, with the promise of a hot load of canine cum in her belly soon to come, sent shiver of pleasure up her spine. Somehow, letting her mouth - which has shaped such delicate and devastating spells in the past - be used as a simple mating-hole for a mute beast, was making her feel very, very good.

And, minutes later, when he reached his climax and pumped his seed deep into her throat, her only regret was being unable to taste it. Like the one behind her, he then proceeded to jump off of her shoulders and turn himself around, rotating his cock inside her mouth and throat in the process. Of course, whereas the one behind her was ass-to-ass with her, the one in front of her was instead left ass-to-face with her. Specifically, her nose was now practically lodged in his asshole, poking into it. The musky scent she had enjoyed before was easily redoubled, with her nostrils now practically glued to his anal glands. If it was heady before, it was now intoxicating.

Thus, with two hot cocks effectively stuck inside of her, and the thick scent of male dog filling her lungs, she was lost in the reverie of pleasure as the minutes ticked by. When the dog in front of her released the content of his bladder down her throat, her only thought was that the poor fellow must have been holding it in for a while. With his knot locked behind her teeth, there was no choice involved for her - she could not have stopped the stream of sour, yellow liquid from running down her gullet if she'd tried - but the fact was that it never even occurred to her to try. For her mouth to serve as a dog's toilet seemed, in her present state, to be a perfectly reasonable thing.

When, a few minutes later, the hound behind her finally managed to pull himself loose - his knot only halfway-deflated, pushing out through her widely-stretched sphincter with an audible *plop* and a sharp burst of pain - her legs were still as invitingly spread as they had been when she started. There was no need for her to hold her asscheeks open as the next dog jumped on her back, though - the rough treatment her sphincter had received, particularly at the end, had left the hole hanging partially open, gaping like a landed fish as sperm dripped from it. Thus, her next lover easily found his mark, and yet another orgasmic session began.

The dogs traded off on her like that for a while - as each finished up and rested, with a swollen knot tying him to her, the one at the other end would break free and make room for another. And with supernatural lust overwhelming all other considerations and instincts in their dim minds, they didn't stop at one time each. The dogs had stamina, and plenty of time to rest between each ride. Three times turned to four times, with each of the 8 dogs performing only slightly worse with each successive ride. All in all, she spent nearly 10 hours with two canine cocks lodged within her. With so much time spent, it was no surprise that most of the dogs found their bladders getting overstrained during a tie, at one point or another. Several more loads of piss found their way down her throat or up her ass, along with enough canine cum to ensure that, when one vacated her rear, what came out of her stretched-open asshole was not a dripple, but a yellowish-white waterfall.

Through it all, her pussy had seen no action - except to be ground against the edge of the altar as the one behind her pushed her forwards with his muscular, fur-covered mass - and yet, she came repeatedly. A number of times, she even managed to orgasm just from the sensation of having one ejaculate in her throat, though the hot cock tied to her ass at those times may have helped as well. Said ass, meanwhile, was thoroughly worn raw - despite the more-than-plentiful lubrication, she was keenly feeling the friction of every thrust by now, and despite the lack of barbs, the cum that ran from her ass was flecked with blood. Still, it never occurred to her to make the dogs stop, or to redirect them to her pussy when they were clearly more comfortable with her ass. She was, she felt, merely there to satisfy their desires for as long as their endurance held up.

But, of course, even the hardy dogs of Skyrim have their limits, and after nearly 10 hours, they were exhausted, and staggered away from the altar to sleep alongside their masters. Désire moaned at this abandonment. Despite all the time that had passed, she didn't feel exhausted yet - she still wanted more. In particular, her pussy was feeling ever-more empty. She toyed with the idea of waking some of the female caravaners, outfitting them with tuskers, and letting them work her over for a while... but it seemed an anticlimactic ending to an extraordinary Rite.

Then, her eyes fell on the stout draft-horses that pulled the heavy carts of the caravan, as well as the somewhat-sleeker riding-horses. An idea occurred to her, and she licked her lips as she felt renewed desire wash over her. Tentatively, she reached out to touch the minds of the horses, and found to her delight that most of them were male. Four stallions rested in her Shrine, previously unnoticed. It was but a thought to release them from their bonds and awaken the rutting lust in their minds as she guided them towards the altar.

That their size might be too much for her wasn't a concern. She could adjust on the fly with Alteration-magic, and repair any eventual damage with Restoration-magic if it came to that. What was far more important right now was to get her pussy filled with SOMETHING, and quickly. It was feeling more empty and needy by the second.

And so, draped over the Altar of Sanguine, she lifted her ass to receive the first of the stallions. His tool was as long and as thick as her forearm, fist included, and nearly as flat at the end. But her pussy had been drooling lubricating juices all day, and was hanging halfway open all by itself in expectation. As his hooves thundered down onto the altar in front of her, and his enormous mass loomed over her as his gut pressed down on her back, his stiff cock found its mark with surprising ease.

With the mass and muscle of a rutting stallion behind it, it thundered past her pussy-lips with little resistance, stretching her pussy far wider than ever before. The pain of this sudden stretching, however, was entirely lost in the surge of pleasure she felt at FINALLY having some hot cock filling her first orifice. This pleasure was brought up somewhat short when the flat, slightly-slanted head of the equine cock came to a shuddering stop as it hit the mouth of her uterus. Half of his huge shaft was still out in the cold, lightly whetted by a mist of pussy-juice that had been thrown into the air as he forced his way into her.

The pain of her bruised cervix was strongly tinged with annoyance. Just like with the problem of breathing while deepthroating, her body's foolish limitations were getting in her way of things. Well, she knew how to solve that - and it wasn't as if she'd ever planned to have any children, anyway. And so, with a thought, she once again directed her Alteration-magic towards her own body, this time reaching deep inside her abdomen, where she reoriented, resculpted and repurposed her uterus. Moments later, it had a new design for a new reason - rather than bearing life, it would bear cock. The now-widened mouth of the cervix suddenly parted easily before the huge horsecock, like a second pussy, letting the cockhead continue into the elongated, elastic confines of her womb.

With an equine snort, the huge stallion flexed his mighty flanks and drove his cock into her to the root, his pendulous ballsack slapping against her groin. Under this force, the flexible tissue of her womb stretched further, making room for the hot shaft even if it meant pushing up past her internal organs. The sensation was heady in the extreme - she could feel every inch of the foot-and-a-half cock, the tip of which seemed to be nestled somewhere between her lungs. When he started to thrust, she could feel each impact shake her very heart. It was a beautiful feeling.

Her entire body shook with every thrust, as the stallion's massive haunches easily pulled half of his enormous length out of her, only to push it back in with irresistible force. The mouth of her cervix - which had been reshaped by the Alteration to accommodate the huge shaft, but was still about as tight as her pussy-lips - was entirely abandoned on each outstroke, only to be stretched open anew when he pushed in again. And with every two or three strokes, it seemed, another orgasm rushed through her, ringing her tired brain like a bell.

The stallion's staying-power was, however, somewhat less impressive. Horses were, after all, considered prey by most of the beasts that wandered the wilds, and as such, they were not given to spending more time than necessary in such a vulnerable position. What he lacked in time spent, though, he more than made up for in volume. With his cock fully buried inside of her, his head flared up to become even wider than before, and what felt like a bucketful of hot spunk was dumped rapidly into a womb that was already full and stretched by the cock itself. Fortunately, she had accounted for this when she wove the initial Alteration.

Her womb, and her abdomen with it, expanded outwards to accommodate the load. Her stomach had already been visibly distended from the dozens of loads of cum and piss she had devoured earlier, from men and dogs alike - with the addition of her now-swollen womb, she looked slightly pregnant. But the important thing was that it worked - even as the stallion pulled back, most of the cum stayed inside of her, warming her heart - literally.

And of course, as soon as he had moved aside, the next stallion was upon her, thrusting into a pussy that had barely even started to pull itself back together again. Another brief, yet bone-shaking ride followed, as she once again took the stallion-sized tool to the hilt, and received another sizeable load of cum in her still-stretching womb. The fact that the vigorous thrusting had churned the already-present load into a thick, white foam helped fill her out as well, and made it harder for it to escape.

As the third stallion jumped in as well, her womb - despite the Alteration-magic she had cast on it - was nearly at its limit. The thick shaft of the horsecock formed a tight seal with her tautly-stretched pussy-lips, but this was not enough to prevent a thick, bubbly cum-foam from being pushed out around the edges by every thrust, dripping slimily to the ground. His ejaculation forced even more of it out, but still pushed inwards more than outwards. Her belly was pushed to the limit, stretch-marks forming on her fair skin as her cum-filled midsection pushed against the cold stone of the altar, even as she was holding herself above it at arm's length.

Between the stretching sensation, the use of complex alteration-magic, and the countless orgasms she had experienced, her seemingly-endless stamina was fast coming to an end. Her legs, previously stretched full-length and spread to put herself in the proper place for the stallions' use, were getting wobbly. And so it was that when the fourth and last stallion leaped over her back, her knees momentarily buckled, lowering her rear... and providing the stallion with a different orifice to explore.

Considering the tautly-stretched condition of her womb, it might have been a lucky break when it comes right down to it, and with her asshole still hanging loose and leaking various bodily fluids, it was not impossible for the horse to gain entry. And, fortunately, this last one was a riding-horse rather than a massive draft-horse, and thus smaller in every way. His shaft was actually slightly thinner around than the knots of the dogs that had been helpfully stretching her asshole open less than an hour ago. It was, however, a solid, rock-hard shaft, rather than a simple bulge.

With the stallion's muscular power behind it, the thick cock forced its way past her sphincter, pushing deep inside of her, stretching her insides as it went along. The stretching and friction was agonizing, and as the foot-long cock reached the bottom, the flat cockhead bounced painfully off of the bone of her pelvis, making it feel like her entire skeleton was being rattled. She came instantly and copiously, vaginal contractions forcing a small waterfall of foamy cum from her pussy.

She came with nearly every thrust, her mind blitzed with pleasure as her overstimulated nerves flashed with a multitude of sensations. Within moments, she'd lost the strength in her arms and collapsed over the altar, her tautly-stretched belly hitting the stone hard enough to flatten, sending an arc of thick cum shooting from her pussy, covering the stallions' dangling testicles with a thick layer of foamy sperm, and splattering the white slime several yards behind her. Her legs, however, still held out, holding her rear end up for the horse's easy access - she could not bear the thought of slipping off, of losing this pleasure.

In the tightness of her rectum, the stallion didn't last long - the entire ride lasted mere minutes. And yet, they were the most pleasurable minutes of her life. Also, perhaps, the most painful, but at that time, that detail seemed more like a 'because of' than a 'despite of'. When the stallion pulled out, dancing back off of her, his cock was stained by a not insignificant amount of blood - tiny tears from her earlier adventures with Khajiit and Sabercat, though healed, had been torn open by the horse's girth, and while she was certainly in no danger of bleeding out, it made for quite a sight.

With the hard cock no longer keeping her hindquarters aloft, she fell to her knees before the altar, head swimming with the aftershocks of the countless orgasms. Eyes unfocused, she looked behind her and saw the stallion's tackle, still unsheathed - shaft, head and balls all covered with a thick, bubbly slime of mixed cum, blood, anal secretions and probably quite a bit of piss left over from her earlier adventures. Unable to even stand, the sight nonetheless compelled her to stumble towards it on her knees before reaching up and gently enfolding the semi-hard cockhead in her lips.

Over the next several minutes, she carefully cleaned every square inch of the great shaft with her mouth and tongue, including the dangling ballsack and the sheathe. It was, she felt, the least she could do to repay him for all that pleasure. And yet, not quite enough, she thought as she licked her lips. Then her mouth proceeded further back, following a delicate arc from the back of the testicles, up to the hole beneath his tail. The scent and taste was strong there, and sweeping the tail gently aside, she greedily dug in with her tongue, cleaning the hole inside and out.

Then, exhausted but feeling a strange glow of accomplishment, she laid down on the cold stone floor and passed out, leaving the mildly-confused (but thoroughly sated) stallion to wander back to his caravan on his own. She slept for only six hours, but nonetheless woke up feeling thoroughly rested, and barely even sore from the previous night's escapades. It didn't take her long to realize why. Sanguine's power was flowing through her now, far stronger than ever before. It was rejuvenating her body with inhuman stamina.

That night proved a major turning-point for her, in several different ways. Her power had grown vastly, of course, and this changed things in many more-or-less subtle ways. She found that she needed little sleep and less food - the later perhaps partially explained by a seeming ability to rapidly metabolize whatever sperm or... other bodily fluids she ingested, which were usually not insignificant amounts. She also healed rapidly from any minor injuries she sustained during the Rites, rarely needing any Restoration-magic in their wake like she had before. It had all gotten a lot easier...

And her mind-control magic, now suffused with the Daedric Prince's arcane energies, not only had much greater reach and power, it also had a much more subtle influence. Most of those she called to her Shrine were, as before, lumbering slaves - their minds asleep even as their bodies moved and acted in accordance with the emotions she implanted within them. But some who came there weren't asleep - their minds had internalized the influence of Sanguine, and accepted it. They walked into the Shrine with their eyes open, and prayed before the Altar. Most of them did not leave, and those who did returned frequently.

Worshippers and adherents of Sanguine, they made a home in the Shrine, praying and performing Rites to the Daedric Prince under the direction of his High Priestess, Désire Sybille, who had found it remarkably easy to carve living-quarters for them all out of the dirt and stone. When no caravans or beasts were in reach, they did their best to satisfy the priestess' seemingly unslakeable desires, sisyphean task though it might be. And as word spread - as a careful whisper, from those who had visited the Shine willingly, to those who shared their views and interests - those who wished to worship Sanguine would come to the Shrine from all over Skyrim, whether to stay or merely to participate in one of the Rites that took place there on an almost constant basis.

An equally obvious change, however, was the vast broadening of Désire's mental call. While she still wasn't completely certain what aspect of her various bestial lovers had been the key to the pleasure - and power - she had gained from those encounters, she knew enough to branch out significantly. She did, of course, summon Sabercats whenever she could reach them - including the even-larger Snowy Sabercats from Skyrim's northern reaches - and took great pleasure in their company as before. And, naturally, any dogs and horses that accompanied the travelers lured to her Shrine were thoroughly serviced. But she also called to packs of wild wolves, whose canine features combined with their even-greater size and stamina brought her great pleasures - as well as any other reasonably-sized beasts she could find.

Bears and Snow-Bears both were guests at the shrine, though rare considering that they were few in numbers and oft-hunted by humans. She found them delectable partners due to their enormous muscular mass and fur - when mating with one upon the alter, she felt as if she was entirely disappearing under his bulk, becoming part of him as his huge cock thundered into her with the confident determination of an Apex Predator, far removed from the hurried pace of a prey-species. The fact that said cocks were nearly equine in their dimensions - though somewhat differently-shaped - didn't hurt either.

Deer and Elk were also called to her Altar, though those were mostly just for the sake of variety - neither their equipment nor their staying-power were particularly impressive, though the fact that a pack would often contain upwards of a dozen young males did something to compensate for this, as did the copious quantities of sperm they would shoot. Her sessions with them usually left her thoroughly covered in sticky sperm, along with the altar, and with a pleasantly-full belly - but ultimately unfulfilled, and inevitably she would soon afterwards seek a different source of pleasure.

And then there were the Trolls... being wild and solitary creatures, it was rare indeed that she could lure one to her Shrine, but their combination of bestial strength, humanlike hands and large equipment guaranteed her a ride to remember each and every time. Their dicks were, in shape, not much different from a human or orc's, but far larger, as befitted the trolls' towering frame. Not quite as big as a stallion, of course, but a stallion couldn't pick her up in a steel grip to repeatedly ram her into said cock like a ragdoll. Even with the spell curbing the trolls' bloodlust, their wild nature was unchanged, and their mating with her seemed motivated more by a desire to break her in half than anything else. Which, however, just made it that much more enjoyable for her, giving her a sense that she was truly being ravished by a much-larger, much-stronger creature.

Interestingly, a few of the beasts that visited the shrine reacted differently - like some of the sentients, they took easily to Sanguine's influence, electing to stay rather than follow their instincts - or masters - back out into the cold. A pen was swiftly added to hold them, and while the addition of a number of large, hungry creatures necessitated more supplies be taken from visiting caravans - as well as foraging and hunting by the worshippers - the animals more than paid their rent.

Staying for a prolonged period under the influence of Sanguine, they not only became more docile - even the predators soon needed no mental control to be kept in check - they also developed more pronounced sexual skills. The horses, in particular, were heavily affected - while an ordinary stallion would usually last only for a few minutes (though compensating for that with his sheer size), the horses that remained behind soon developed greater staying-power, eventually offering rides of half an hour or more in duration. This, of course, was a great comfort to the worshippers who lived there, who had otherwise despaired at keeping their insatiable Priestess satisfied.

So taken was she with the size and shape of the equines' shafts that she used her Alterist powers to shape an ivory simulacra of one from a mammoth-tusk taken from a caravan. This towering creation, every vein and surface perfectly recreated in unyielding ivory, served her well - sometimes attached to a visiting mare, sometimes wielded by several strong-armed worshippers, occasionally even strapped to an ensorcelled troll who had worn out his virility but not his stamina - those, certainly, were rides to remember. And on those rare occasions when she slept for any real length of time, she would inevitably have it strapped within herself to ensure that her dreams were as sordid as her waking hours. Facetiously, she dubbed it the Ivory Tower.

Some even said that this rod, constantly soaked in her juices as it was, was gradually suffused with Sanguine's own power, and to this day, there are whispers amongst the followers of Sanguine that any woman who manages to accommodate the full length of the Ivory Tower within herself, will be granted the gift of inhuman stamina and rapid healing that Sanguine also gave to Désire. I cannot say if this is true, however, or even if the Ivory Tower still exist - for reasons that will soon become clear.

The Shrine of Sanguine in Skyrim, isolated as it was, stood firm for a long time, untouched by the events of the outside world. The Rites within continued unabated for a long time. Much longer than one would have thought possible. Many a wizard and conjurer have, over the years, sought the secret of immortality, whether from arcane or necromantic sources, but it is well-known that only the blessings of the Daedric Princes offers anything approximating true Eternal Life - though never without a price, as illustrated by the Children of Coldharbor, the Vampires, created by the hand of Molag Bal.

That Molag Bal was not the only Daedric Prince able to grant this dubious gift to a mortal was illustrated in this remote Shrine of Sanguine. As the years ticked by, Désire Sybille never aged a day, and despite the daily (and nightly) stresses she put it through, her body remained as taut and unblemished as the day she had been anointed. Exactly how long she lived is uncertain, but she claimed to have founded the Shrine towards the end of the Third Era, and documents I uncovered from Imperial Records mention a woman fleeing the city of Chorrol in eastern Cyrodiil following accusations of 'the use of unholy magics to seduce the minds of men' in 3E 413, backing this up.

During the Warp in the West, the fulfillment of the Prophecy of the Nevarine in Morrowind, the Oblivion Crisis, the eruption of the Red Mountain, and even the Great War, Désire - isolated from the rest of the world in the wilds of Skyrim - carried on her Rites unhindered and unconcerned as the years rolled by without touching her. The worshippers and beasts who had joined her in the Shrine would die, each in their own time (and often rather early, with the most frequent cause of death being 'heart failure'), but others would inevitably take their place soon afterwards.

For over 200 years, she carried out the Rites of Sanguine in his shrine, and she would likely have continued for ages yet to come if it had not been for the events that shook the world in the month of Last Seed, 4E 201 - the return of the Dragons. Suddenly, the immense, scaly creatures plied the skies of Skyrim, terrifying in their aspect and size. Between them and the civil war, travelers on the roads soon became rare, and beasts became harder to lure from their dens as even the most ornery bears covered in their caves to avoid becoming a dragon's next meal.

With her usual source of pleasure drying out, Désire looked to the skies, saw the dragons dance in the air, and decided that she wanted to mate with one. Now, this was not as crazy as it might seem. In the decades that had passed, her power had grown greatly, and on occasion - usually when a particularly rough winter had pushed both beasts and travelers from the roads - she would take her Rites to a dangerous new level by summoning Giants and Mammoths to her Shrine, whose entryway could barely accommodate the immense beasts. With advanced and highly complex Alteration-magic, she was able to temporarily grant herself the elasticity necessary to accommodate these massive beasts.

This may seem a stretch - such as it is - but believe me. I have seen it myself. That woman, pulled across a cock easily the size of my entire leg, the skin on her chest and stomach stretching like wet leather to accommodate it. And that is just the giants, whose tools are, much like themselves, oversized versions of humans'. What was most striking was the way they did it. It wasn't sex as one would normally know it. Rather, it was like a man who had cut a hole in a gourd and was using that to pleasure himself in lieu of a woman. She was completely enfolded in his grasp, being moved back and forth on his immense cock, more of a masturbation-aid than a sex-partner.

And the mammoths... their tools could easily be mistaken for a fifth leg, so massive and rugged are they, easily reaching the ground beneath their fur-covered flanks. I have watched bull mammoths mate with her upon the altar of Sanguine, and that solid granite would surely have cracked from the forces at work there, were it not infused with the power of a Daedric Prince. She was barely visible under the long fur, but what I could see was grotesque - her form wrapped around a shaft that was nearly as thick around as her waist would normally be. Her legs, which she usually spread invitingly for any man or beast who came near, were pushed far aside by the deformation of her pelvis, dangling helplessly in the air and shaking wildly with every thunderous impact. Her bulbous breasts, pushed out by the cockhead lodged just below her neck, were sticking out at odd angles from the fleshy outline of the shaft. Truly, rather than saying it was within her, it would be more accurate to say that she was wrapped around it, like an ill-fitting glove.

Such sessions would exhaust even her, and yet, every time she stumbled off of the altar, her body miraculously snapping back into shape, she would push herself to give the huge beast a 'proper thanks', cleaning their cocks, balls, and assholes with her tongue. And more often than not, this would merely whet her appetite for further debauchery. Can you even imagine the sight of a woman drinking down the entire contents of a mammoth's bladder? I have seen it. Her belly expanding like a balloon to contain the sour liquid, stretched so taut you can nearly see the yellow fluid gurgling within. The expression on her face was... indescribable. The darkest, most sordid sort of enjoyment, a reverie born from performing an unbelievably humiliating, nigh-inhuman act.

With these sorts of experiences behind her, it was no surprise that she felt confident that taking a dragon for a lover was within her reach. She widened the entrance to the cavern that held the shrine, and sent a call to the skies, with all the power of Sanguine behind it. And a dragon heard it, descending to the ground before us, ancient eyes clouded with lust. She led it into the shrine, as obedient as any of the other animals and monsters she had called to serve her lust.

On the great altar of Sanguine, before his leering statue, she took the dragon within her. The beast barely fit inside the cavern, but from what I could see, his tool wasn't any bigger than a mammoth's. But the dragon moved with a speed and subtlety that the lumbering mammoth could never dream of. It thrust into her with great power, pushing her into the altar. And the scaly beast did not impede one's view like the woolly mammoths did - I could see everything. The stretching left a clear outline of the huge reptile's cock - it wasn't straight, simple and flat-faced like the mammoths', either. Rather, it seemed covered in bumps and ridges. Knowing the Priestess' tastes, it was thus no surprise to hear her scream in unearthly pleasure as he tore into her with predatory lust.

But that is when things started to go wrong. I cannot say that I know exactly what happened, but I can theorize, based on my knowledge of magic. Dragons are ancient beings, after all, descended from Akatosh himself, and mortal magics hold little sway over them. That Désire was able to call one down from the sky and control it had seemed a miracle. But now the miracle was running dry. Whatever home-brewed Alteration-magic she had used to make herself subtle and stretchy enough to accommodate the dragon, was falling apart in his presence, shattered by the impacts of his mighty rod.

Her screams of pleasure turned to pain, and her skin deformed. I looked away, and I thank my lucky starts that I managed to do so. The sounds alone still give me nightmares. The dragon's roar turned from lust to rage as the death of the High Priestess freed him from her mental domination. We fled. Few of us managed to escape the enraged beast, and in its wake, the cavern collapsed - whether from the dragon's rampage, or simply the death of the one whose magic created the Shrine. The last thing I saw of it was the great statue of Sanguine, looking down on the bloody mess left on the altar with a demented grin on his unmoving face.

And so, I abandoned the Shrine of Sanguine to its doom, and with it, my service to the demented Prince of Debauchery. I saw with my own eyes what becomes of those who parlay with the Daedric Princes for power. Désire Sybille sought the grace of Sanguine to gain the power to rule and dominate - instead, she spent over 200 years serving him, engaging in the deepest debauchery, wallowing in the foulest humiliations a mind could conceive. And ultimately, she died in his service, never having used the power he granted her for anything other than improving her own ability to serve him. No doubt, she serves him still, in the Halls of Debauchery, and is probably enjoying herself immensely even as she begins an unending eternity of being used for the sexual gratification of his Daedric hordes.

I have no doubt that Sanguine saw all of this within her the moment she summoned him - that she would find her greatest indulgence not in power, but in the release of it. In humiliating herself and giving herself to other's pleasure, making of herself a man's toilet, or a dog's bitch, or a giant's masturbation-aid. He knew that her attempts to gain power for her own benefit would lead her there, and that the Rite would soon become an end in itself rather than a means to her own ends. Her dreams of conquest were lost in two centuries of debauchery and dark indulgences.

So rest assured, dear reader - whatever compact or deal a Daedric Prince might offer you, however perfect it may seem - they WILL get the better end of the bargain. They see far deeper and further than we, and would not offer the deal were it not to their advantage. To seek power from Daedric Worship is futile - they will make of you always a servant, and never a master. So subtle their powers and influences are, that you will never even notice it, and be convinced 'till the end that it was your own idea, your own plan, and not theirs...

Fear the Daedra. Avoid the Daedra. Listen not the Daedra. To them, we are like ants, and even those who would not go out of their way to step on an ant, will still sweep them aside if it suits their purposes. If you forget this lesson, make no mistake - you will easily wind up like Désire Sybille, who gained everything she ever wanted, while losing her purpose and gaining slavery in its stead.

Ashir Nesharr, E4 205