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The mountain range separating Skyrim from Cyrodill had always been described as hostile, dangerous, due to bandits and trolls roaming the vales in between. But nothing could have credited the sight of the Jerall mountains as much as a vista would do.

Even so up north and nestled in high altitude, the place was beautiful and bountiful.

And to honor the Bandit's choices, they had managed to settle in a perfect localization if they ever desired to lay low.

The valley was abundant with pine, covering everything between the peaks with green mottled with brown bark. In the distance, the sight of a river disgorging from a steep cliff into the land caught the attention. And its presence was what permitted the land to teem with fauna and flora. Even in the late season, insects managed to thrive there as the climate was temperate enough so they could live and reproduce, provided by the abundance of flowers in the lower reaches.

And as for the dangers there. Beyond the risk of straining your ankle on a rock, slipping, or simply meeting those bandits; there was none. The few predators were too small to target men, mer, or beastfolk, and they focused on the boars and deers that lived further down the declivity. And, of course, the further you descended, the more you were to encounter a diversity in creatures and life.

But for now, for the Dragonborn finally stepped into the daylight to be welcomed by the chill breeze passing through the rows of pine trees, glancing at any potential vista. All the while, those naked feet stepped behind the man with their circlets dancing and clanging around the ankles.

It wasn't enough to interest the Argonian's guide in their walk, too focused as he was on his advance. While the Orc was a fine archer, it wasn't he who brought venison or boar meat to the meal nor foraged the roots they cooked. No, it was the Nord who had been turning his back away from the slut as he trod the land he knew.

The man was tall, tough as nails, and vigorous in his steps. And compared to the others, he was to be the youngest of all, even if and by all accounts, he wasn't “young". His short red hair was exempted from any gray streak, and his mustache hadn't turned into a full mountain-man beard like his fellows.

He was rugged, but the furrows were barely marked except for the constant frown the Hunter sported even on pleasant occasions. A circumspect man who was always awake early and away unless it was to honor the Dragonborn with his dick… Albeit he was the smallest, and with the bandits' abuse, the Argonian was often… Simulating.

However, what the slut didn't simulate was the surprise of being allowed to roam the land free… And to be forced to follow the Nord today. If the routine had remained the same, those scaled hands would have been cutting greens for the stew or cleaning the Orc's little room.

But no, instead, the Dragonborn was to step onto the sun-warmed humus… And feel ferns rubbing her meaty cheeks while following along.

“Hmm… What are we supposed to do?"

“Daily routine," answered the man, prosaic as ever. And he continued, slowly ascending a steep incline while using rocks as buttresses.

“Well… I should be working in the cavern? I should prepare our lunch, no?"

“The others will deal with it. There's something better to do for you," grumbled the man while huffing in his ascend, not looking if the Argonian followed.

But there was no need to check, and so the Nord continued until he was uphill… And stood there with his hands on his waist. He waited, not giving the Bitch any thought. But then, as she approached the man, those blue eyes noticed the grin the Hunter sported.

And then, what was below. A small opening in a massive rock, nothing big. And on the side, a tiny tree house, almost like a guard post due to how small and narrow it had been built.

And these were only the details… Because living in that cavern, playing, sniffing around, jumping, and growling were wolves. Large beasts with variegated gray coats whose ears had perked in the Argonian's presence only for them to lay down and rest, seemingly accustomed to anyone human-like. Those beasts were frightening, massive even. And in a large number, a pack that already sported cubs. But most of the 20ish wolves were grown-ups with a rather lax attitude as they lazed around and relaxed.

Such a sight made the Argonian raise an eyebrow and turn to the Nord, who kept smiling, satisfied.

“What is this?"

“Our pack of wolves. Aren't they beautiful?" asked the Human while taking a step toward the group.

“I… Yes? But why a pack?" responded the Argonian, following closely.

“We use them to weed out defenses. They're intelligent enough to follow my orders, and when a convoy approach, I unleash them on our targets."

“That's… Clever. Aren't you afraid they'll turn on you or not attack?"

“No. But if they fail, we halt our plans."

“And how did you… Tame them?"

“Meat and patience," answered the man, all chuffed. But it struck the Argonian he wasn't sporting any bow or weapon, nor did he carry any meat for them.

“And… What am I doing here? I'm… not good with pets," commented the Dragonborn in a restrained way. In fact, she had never managed to get along with most dogs around her neighborhood. Most would bite and bark. But those wolves seemed rather tame. And they were merely sniffing around, extending their muzzle toward that ass.

Their noses were cold to the touch and their rubbing unnerved the Argonian, who still followed and tried to reduce the distance with the Nord. Only for that man to turn and, for once, smile at the Slut. Not genuine, not artful, just sardonic.

“Because we need to keep them busy and happy, we don't want the males to be frustrated," stated the Human with that deviant attitude… And exploring fingers. Calloused, used to archery and climbing, those rough hands had strength to back up as they approached the Argonian's plump body.

The traces of muscles and broad frame remained, like a memory of who the Slut was. But muscles had dwindled and so wilted the apparent might backing the Dragonborn. All the while, fat had accumulated where it “mattered" : Breasts, heavy and hand-filling for an orc's palm; Ass, round and meaty; Hips, wide and comely. Even those arms had begun to look thinner to accommodate the treatment the Bitch had been subjected to.

As with the recent attacks on some Thalmor convoys, they managed to secure more potions to “help" the Dragonborn embrace her true role within the group. And in a result, the pierced nips were constantly erected… Contrary to the 3 inches cock between those thighs, nearly a footnote in the Slut's existence whilst the testicles looked like grapefruits with the added heat.

And it was those genitals, particularly that tiny cocklet, the perverted Nord began to grab and stroke, twist and pinch while the poor poor Slut was a whimpering mess. After all, it was also the first time she was out without a cage, and the tiny organ was so sensitive. Likewise to her cunt after all those breedings from the Orc, late at night, or her testicles shocked by the Mage. And no one could ignore how wonderful those lips worked.

But the shame was to notice how disinterested she was in sucking his dick. He wasn't as big as the others, clearly, but it didn't mean for that cock-addicted whore to be spurning him and look at him with that… Pity.

The sardonic smile fell, replaced by a scowl. Before him, there was that Slut who had no purpose but to be railed and fucked stupid, to do menial tasks like a proper wife, or to flaunt that curvy body. But he wanted more. But he saw more, and so he pulled on that cock to force her to follow.

“Y- You're hurting me!"

“Then go faster!" commented the Hunter with his deep voice, surrounded by the wolves who were now curious and inquisitive about what was happening. And more so from the smell emanating from the Slut's groin. Her dicklet wasn't hard, but it still spurted that sticky watery fluid, and smelt so… Strange. Not like man's cum, but nor like when he had fucked those whores at his hometown's inn. Perhaps it was in-between, but it still hung in the air as he approached the small cabin and opened the door wide. But not to enter.

Instead, he plopped at the entrance's edge, sitting on the wooden log and wiping the liquid on his right knee. There, he looked at the poor Bitch who didn't cover her modesty, unable to ward off those wolves.

“On your knees," ordered the man, expectantly while straightening his back.

Of course, the Slut seemed a bit frisky. However, the Argonian gave in fairly quickly as she passed from feet to knees, with her plump back turned away from the Nord. And without even stating anything, she raised her tail. Perfect, it was just perfect.

“See, you can do it," commented the Nord, grasping the Slut's head to scratch that chin and jaw, almost like a dog. It was the truth: she was a bitch, good for nothing if not on her hands and knees.

“Bark for me," he continued, forcing that muzzle to be raised upward.

“Bark?" replied the Dragonborn with a faint voice.

“Yes, bark. Like a dog, bark."

“… Woof?"

The Nord scowled and the Argonian lowered her head in return, especially as the hand no longer scratched his neck.

All around, the wolves were beginning to crowd the place, prancing and pacing with an interested gaze. It wasn't meat, but it was something better. And the Hunter's keen eyes noticed the mottled pink in that sea of gray coat.

“Bark better."

“Arf," imitated the bitch with that monotonous tone.

“I said better!"

“Woof!" This time, there was more energy in it. But it wasn't perfect.

“Higher!"

“WOOF WOOF WOOF!" Way better… But he had to be certain.

“Who's the bitch?!"

“Me!"

SLAP!

The Nord's hand hurt, but surely was the Argonian's face as he shook the pain off, his palm bright red.

“A bitch doesn't speak!"

The Argonian's mouth opened and closed, clasped and agitated by the swallowed saliva and the stifled “sorry".

And again, the Nord spoke up.

“Who's the bitch?!"

“Woof!"

“Louder, I didn't hear? Who's the bitch?!"

“WOOF! WOOF! WOOF!"

“Good! Good bitch!"

Between his knees, there was the face of that barking Argonian, reduced to nothing but a beast. Fitting, if not for those scales and that crocodile-like visage. But it was enough, and everyone knew who was the bitch.

By now, most of the females within the group of wolves had departed, fleeing the potential issue as the males were crowding behind the Argonian but not touching. To them, the Hunter was their alpha. They could try to oppose him, but no beast would dare to do so, especially when he provided so much for the pack and let the other wolves breed. A dynamic he had to instate and would never work in the savage lands. But here, it was perfect.

And he had another female in heat to disclose to them.

Ever so slowly, a nascent grin spread onto that face, pulled on the red mustache and that naturally sour expression as he raised his hands to undo the front of his slacks. Just a knot to undo, a string to pull. And all of a sudden, the front of those leather pants opened to let free of his entire manhood. Without underwear, the friction had been killing his cock and balls. But now, both breathed free in front of the Argonian, no longer looking at him with that pitiful expression.

When there wasn't a big green or black dick around, the Dragonborn was just as docile as any whores, and those fixated blue eyes were not lying. Not at all as he gave his wide cock a few strokes, slathering the whole length with his sticky precum with a devious grin… Before he collected it all in his palm… And rubbed the liquid against his hairy scrotum.

He wasn't as big or long as the others… But ballsy? Oh yes, he really was, and no one could contest it.

Those were big, large, sweaty, hairy… Two big orbs surrounded by fair skin and red hair that glistened in the broad daylight. Even the sun was giving the nuts a nice warm-up, making it all the more delicious as he let them hang a few centimeters off the ground before thrusting with his hips and flailing around. And the worse? It was too cold for him to go full-hanging… His exes compared him to oranges and their contact against those tight asses like maces.

But today, he wasn't looking to fuck someone.

No, he preferred to have a day without his fellows, unfettered by their constant squabbles… Although, it would be boring if he didn't have any semblance of company. Therefore, he looked down at the Slut, cocking one eyebrow.

“What are you waiting for?"

The Nord merely asked, looking down on the Bitch, being sniffed by the males who waited for nothing but a mere sign.

And he gave it as the Hunter grabbed the Dragonborn by the horns and pulled her against his sweaty scrotum, rubbed his skin on the scaled muzzle until it would reek and be greased with all those fluids. But it didn't matter… No, he laughed and snapped, uncaring to the Bitch's pleas and moans as she had nothing to do but breathe that mind-numbing musk and worship.

And worship… Well, the Argonian knew that.

With a swift and collected tongue, it was easy for the Slut to begin suckling and licking those balls until wet slurping noises resonated to the Nord's eyes who relaxed… Nearly reclined against the doorjamb. And admired.

Before him, the whole pack he had been trained was fighting and squabbling, nipping the air when they were not showing teeth. Their steps hit the ground, raising small clouds of dust until that makeshift competition ended, and walked forth a male. Not the biggest and largest of all, nor the oldest, but he was a rising star within the pack. The beast was cunning and more clever than most.

And already, that wolf was there pushing its nose below the Argonian's tail, pushing his muzzle between those cheeks and-

“EEKH!" cried the Slut, undoubtedly surprised from the cold contact against that tenderized pucker… A mess of an asshole that looked more like a donut made by a drunkard baker than nature. And yet, she sported one ruined hole that still managed to close and suckle on a dick…. Perhaps his wolves appreciated the glazing she had received the day before because the young brat slurped and licked off the orifice. Its large tongue sometimes slipped up and passed on the round scaled cheeks but still returned to the ministration of that hole.

All the while its owner, broken and moaning, was barely holding onto her hands and knees.

“What did you say? A Bitch only barks," commented the Nord gravely, returning to the Slut that had stopped her work to clench her teeth and close her eyes instead.

“I-" she began, but for the man to tug on her horn left and right. “Arf! Arf!"

“Who told you could stop working? Get back to it!" growled through his teeth the Hunter, uncaring to her fright and her sensations. He pulled her against his scrotum and rubbed it, forcing her to breathe down the stenchy sweat and lick that hair lest it would tangle.

However, there was no need to push for more. The Dragonborn was a good Bitch, well-trained and practically sprayed. Nothing more than a toy, and soon, the Nord went back to enjoy the delicate strokes on his scrotum: the lick against the base of his cock where sweat and precum accumulated; the lips closing on the midsection to suckle and pull on it while rubbing the folds one against another; the tongue tip sometimes teasing the disregarded backside.

The man rumbled and sighed, feeling his body relaxing and his cock hardening just from the Argonian's work whilst looking down… Onto the bratty wolf who growled in his “meal" and sometimes snapped to his kind whenever they moved too close.

But it didn't bare its teeth while tasting the bitch. It wouldn't dare to wound a female brought by their Alpha… And so, the beast licked… Licked. Licked… Licked. The sound was almost appeasing to the Hunter's ears, satisfied to hear such an ordinate pleasure. But if he continued, he would leave the others frustrated.

“Move!"

“Woof?"

“Not you," ordered and replied the man, not looking at his bitch but at the young wolf. He snapped his fingers to get the beast's attention and then pointed up. Surely it didn't mean anything to the beast. But the sudden movements were strict, cold. And so… The wolf stepped away.

Well, no breeding for that one.

In place, it was another Wolf's turn to enter the fray, its large frame indicating it was one of the oldest beasts around. And contrary to the predecessor, it sported a red erection between its legs as it approached the Bitch. One erection that wasn't going to waste when the beast suddenly jumped on the Argonian's backside.

“Eeck!"

“Bark!" castigated the Nord with another slap.

“WOOF! WOOF!"

The tone and desperation in the Slut's voice brought a smile to the Nord's ear… That and her hastened breath whenever the beast moved and pressed its dick against the tenderized hole.

He didn't have to guess or imagine to know what happened; he had seen a mounting before… And this was no different.

Right away, the beast dug its teeth into the thin Argonian's nape, but without spilling any blood as the Bitch wasn't there to be mauled. It would assert its dominance over her while it fumbled with those paws to find a position. Again, never before had those wolves bred with anything but their own. And it was a first time, one the Nord relished in watching as the paws scratched the barking Dragonborn, hitting her reinforced scutes and slipping on them in a fumbling dance until the wolf finally managed to anchor itself and…

“WOOF! WOOF! WOOF!"

The Human grinned, watching the formerly pitying expression melt into pure abandon when the canine buried itself in her. The Argonian moaned, yelped, cried… The voice broke and therefore came a higher pitch as the wolf began to hump that plump posterior and bury its bone within.

“Silence, Bitch."

Without missing a beat, the Nord pushed the whore further between his thighs, rubbing his sweaty sack against the muzzle before he moved the other hand to stick a thumb to separate the lips and pry them open.

“Open up. Or it'll be worse!"

The Dragonborn squirmed and again barked through the clenched teeth, but that jaw was so tricky to pry and force open. The slut wasn't giving in, and surely the beast mounting that prime ass didn't help as the humping looked brutal, was feral. Above, the Wolf was a groaning mess of whimpers and moans, its ears batting the air while its legs jumped up and down. And again, the claws ripped against the scutes without spilling blood. It made a clicking sound whenever the canine failed to get a grip, so often.

And it kept going, humping, and pumping… Before it, too, began to bark. And growl around.

The beast nipped the air, swept its head right and left to see the potential other males who could use that ass.

And below…

“Woof."

A pitiful sound, repeated by the Argonian as she finally opened her lips, released her jaw and revealed her teeth. And the mouth opened further, divulging that long swirling tongue before it rolled against the scrotum anew to lick and pleasure it.

A grifter's grin returned, smug and belittling from the Human as he removed his thumb to pull on the Argonian's cheeks and shake them.

“You see when you want it. Now be a good bitch," he mocked before using that grip to force the Slut to suckle more on his balls, burrow her face within the scrotum's fold. Not too much so she could breathe and, him, heed her barks.

Enough to feel the sensation once more, to be satisfied right as he pulled on his half-hard shaft and began to pump it. His fingers were stiff, a bit rigid. Nothing like a whore's touch, but he loved it that way whenever he went down to watch a Bitch like this Argonian get fucked by the males…

He pumped, thinking about that long pink dick buried within the Whore's ruined hole, about those blossoming tits shaken from the rowdy mounting, about her dicklet dripping with fluids.

Just by watching the male mounting the Dragonborn, he knew the wolf was ready to cum and be done with its breeding by pushing its massive knot through the warm rim.

The Argonian's belly would be heavier, pushing on the skin 'til it looked distended. And once the male was done emptying itself, it would pull out.

And… the Nord admired it. Giving himself the pleasure of stroking his dick while being worshiped, while the poor muffled whines grew higher and higher. The clicking noises increased. The legs humped and pumped like no end, to the point the movement looked like spasms. It whined, it growled, it howled.

And there, the beast was entirely done. The legs stopped, and that tongue passed over its muzzle to pronounce the satisfaction….

But it didn't move.

“Huh?" growled the Hunter, surprised by the lack of movement. Well, not as much if it would have been a real bitch. But that Argonian was a size queen and he wondered… He wondered, and lowered his strokes, no longer beating his meat furiously to instead look down at the Slut.

“Hey, relax your ass," he ordered. But from the Dragonborn's expression, frightened and ashamed…

“Oh… He's too big for you? I thought you could take an orc behind," mocked the Human before raising an index toward the Argonian, conniving. “Remember, bitches bark."

“Arf."

The last sound was so pitiful, so despondent, so low… It made the Hunter giggle. And then lean forward over the Slut, rubbing and pressing his dick on her scalp and his belly against the horns whilst he approached that ass… And faced the growling wolf, watching it already bare its teeth.

“Ah! Don't do that!" exclaimed the Human, scowling at the beast and looking into its eyes.

He pulled his lips, showed his teeth. And then, the wolf attempted to step back, only to fumble again and prance in place, unable to remove its most private parts from the Bitch's hole…

Something the Nord noticed by leaning further, almost laying on the Argonian's backside to see her hole. And admire the bulbous knot appear and spread the sphincter until the muscle puckered up.

“Hah, you are wonderful," mocked the Nord. That Bitch had managed to tighten her hole since yesterday, and it was a feat after the ramming from the Boss… But was he angry? Not at all as he slowly crept his fingers against the hole, pulled on the asscheeks.

The muscles were tense, not relaxed for a second. But it wasn't enough to halt the Human when he dug his fingers into that meaty ass, came hither with his index… And squeezed it against the rim. Instantly, above, the wolf began to yelp and cry. And then, the Nord spread the hole from both sides and watched the wolf jump out. No longer restrained, the bulbous knot and the tapered tip flew out, followed closely by a flood of canine cum pouring from the hole… An endless flow descended onto the Whore's nuts before falling and coalescing into a puddle between her legs.

A humiliating sight… And yet, the Nord grinned as he slapped that ass and straightened himself before whistling to another male to come.

Each wolf would have a turn with the whore.

And that, he made it certain.

One after another, he observed them mount and use the whore, ensuring that hole was properly creamed up before another one came… And came. All in an orderly fashion undeterred by the first's “surprising experience".

Even if the wolves had been wary of the bitch… None opposed the Alpha's will. Nor could they oppose the pleasure of fucking a bitch in heat like the Argonian. Even with their full knot, the rim couldn't hold onto them anymore, nor their fluids that kept pouring from her distended hole.

And canine after canine, they had their turn. Until the firsts were given another run, not to make them jealous… And so those who followed not to give those a preferential treatment. Until there was a third turn to ensure each wolf was properly drained and happy.

And the Nord was there to call the tune, whistling but also talking as the sole one with workable vocal cords.

“Here it is. Another knot for the camp's favorite bitch. Open up," he mocked again, looking down at the dejected expression worn by the Whore. The eyes had been shut, the mouth didn't close anymore… And any sound she made was mere bark that came less and less regularly. But who cared? Certainly not the Hunter, since he enjoyed her constant licking and munching on his scrotum. He appreciated those lips closing on the scrotum, and hair to suck the fluids on them. A pointless attempt due to the Human adding more by edging ceaselessly. More precum to cover the nuts. He didn't cum, he cranked up until he was at the limit and stopped, to pick it back a bit later.

Even now, as the pack's interest dwindled and most beasts returned to the cavern or walked off, he was stroking himself above the whore's precum-caked face. His scowling face had relaxed, except for his gritting teeth. His other hand was on the Argonian's horn to force her to bob back and forth…

And … He stopped. Again.

His cock was red and hard, erect and all. But he wasn't done yet, not done with the Whore or spilling his seed. So, he looked down at her, letting his cock ooze another long and viscous drop onto the muzzle.

“You want it? You want your meal?"

The Slut didn't answer, her mouth and eyes focused on the Human's testicles.

“Heh, answer me. You want my cock? You want to taste it? Tell me."

The Argonian stopped, the mouth closed without pulling on the skin. The scaled nostrils widened, the eyes opened and observed the meaty and erected shaft. She then exhaled: “Yes."

“Wrong answer. Bitches don't talk." growled the Human as he pulled on the Bitch's horns… But not to have her close to his nuts. No, he pulled the Argonian away. He stood up and pulled on his slacks. Just enough so he could walk and drag the Whore further from the hut. And toward the cavern. Before throwing her into its shade, among the growling and importuned wolves. Most females made a wall between the cubs and the Dragonborn, but the males circled, expectantly awaiting one order. Meal or not.

“Have fun," he stated.

Not meal. It wouldn't be a meal for them, but more breeding for the beasts, and then couldn't deny the scent the Argonian sported in their lair… Especially with the Alpha's moving away toward the cabin and surely to go hunt for real meal.

So… Instead of waiting for their approval, the males turned to the Bitch.

And soon again, their knots peaked through their sheath, again insatiable as they were given all the right to use her…

When the sun began to set beyond the mountains, it was the moment the Hunter returned while dragging behind him a full boar. He had been lucky and found one foraging in the lower valley, in a place that made the hunt fairly easy. However, the beast's weight hindered his pace.

That, and the constant eyeing toward the Argonian that walked behind him, all ashamed and hiding her modesty. But still, she reeked like a wet dog… Once away, the wolves had had their fun with her and fucked her, even mounted her face. And no place of that body had been exempted from fluids… Not even her feathers as they dripped in their descent within the cavern. First was the boar, then him… Then her.

But instead of thanking him, the other bandits eyed the Argonian's arrival and frowned at her approach.

“Fuck, she stinks. What did you do to our girl?" asked the Breton, his fake teeth showing… Followed closely by their chief: “When you told me you needed her, I didn't think you would have your beasts mount her."

To those recriminations, the Nord shrugged and went away to skin the boar and cut the muscles. He had already dealt with the offals he had handed to the wolves… But he preferred to work inside. Especially with the Whore nearby… She had, however, already waddled toward the river.

“Where are you going?"

“To cl-"

“Wrong answer!" interjected the Nord, hand on his hips. His trousers were as tense and bulging as ever, with his fingers pulling and fiddling with the cloth to put forth his half-erected manhood as he stood by… And then coughed.

“A good bitch must please her master," he stated, pulling out the laces upfront. All to undo the front and expose his cocktip.

Once more, the Argonian savored that salty aftertaste filling the back of her throat.

All around them, wolves and creatures howled and thrived under the pines and their protective shadow. Through, as told by their guide, was the sole path cutting by the Jerall mountains and led to Falkreath without inching too close to Helgen. The city was being rebuilt by the Empire and close jarls, therefore obturating any road nearby over kilometers. Nothing could leave or approach Helgen, forcing travelers to go through obscure roads like this one as it crossed the veiled vale.

The mist hung in the air, as days without sunlight had gathered enough humidity and cold to let it condense… The forest seemed to close on them at each turn. With the declivity around, it made it like those pine trees bowed in their presence… Or attempted to extend their shade over the barely cobbled road. Any poor soul could inadvertently take the wrong turn due to how shabby the path was. And they were too far from any proper inn or stop, due to Bandits and creatures roaming the region.

Or so, that was the mumbling from those around: frightened guards, resolute refugees, frustrated soldiers, all whispering among themselves. The Dragonborn and the Mage had managed to join a convoy south from the frontier, one hailing from the Imperial City. And onto which had been grafted wagons of merchandise and provisions for the soldiers that fought in Skyrim, followed by refugees and merchants paying generously.

Most were Imperials, young men and veterans alike who kept to themselves, their coats, or their card games.

And among the conscripts were even some oddities: Three Bosmers, one Orc, two Argonians, one Khajiit. They, of course, weren't looking for the travelers that huddled together way back unless it was their duty to follow and scout around.

But overall, the convoy seemed lost… And would be easy to jump on.

That's what a part of the Dragonborn thought while pushing against the tarp spread over their head and maintained by cheap wood girdles. Nothing fancy for the poor refugees like the couple the Argonian and the Breton formed: A bountiful servant and her old lord. A conceit that attracted a few glances from the ordinary imperials and their clique but nothing more as they were all keeping to themselves and maintaining some distance.

A thought… But then, a pair of lips and a warm tongue pressed against the Dragonborn's muzzle, prying it open and forcing the “maid" to swallow the worming muscle, to lick it back and swallow the abundantly offered saliva. Within the tarp's shade and their faces turned away from the refugees, covered with cowls, nothing could see it…

And it felt all the more exciting when the Human's hands slid inside the scant attire beneath the cowl, mostly between those legs… And under that tail.

Oh, the Dragonborn loved the contact, the attention, the perverse touch. Ridding those digits was so tempting, to impale those plump cheeks on the knuckles… But without the curtains spread, more movement would have been noticed… So, she stilled… And stopped. But not without pulling her hand away from the Human's bulging pants.

“What were you thinking about, girl? Eyeing one soldier?"

“No," answered the Argonian through a raspy whisper, shaking that head. “We're close to the frontier. It'll be time."

It was time… With that final attack, the group of bandits would be off with their work and could live somewhere up north without worrying about being caught. Some thought about separating and going toward Markath, others to settle in Whiterun. But the point of contention remained the Dragonborn's presence. They all wanted the Bitch for themselves or at least to have her around and none would budge… So… All together it was.

Or so.

“You know… We could not warn the others. Let the convoy pass, and travel to Solitude. I hear the climate is nice up there," commented the man. Before he scowled when he heard the Wolves' howls in the distance. The creatures were moving closer and were soon to attack. “And there would be no dogs to abuse my favorite girl."

The Breton, wearing the gold and blue of some distant noble house, offered that broken grin to the Argonian as he pulled on that chin. Again to force another kiss, but longer. More delicious as that tongue played with the throat's depths and almost stole a gag from the Bitch, who had to endure the abuse in silence lest the travelers noticed.

And it wasn't desired when the Human's fingers were finally working inside the swollen and ruined pucker, tugging on the rim until the orifice opened and revealed its velvety inners. And some fluids oozed, reeking. Nobody else, but the Breton had been fucking the Dragonborn. But always away from the others, discretely behind trees during a break. But not in the wagon…. The Breton, however, didn't seem to stop. With his other hand, he reached the Argonian's hand to force her to rub his bulge and feel those half-done laces.

“It… It could be great," confirmed the Argonian, and it was. At least, there was something funny with that Breton who, as a mage, used his ability to torture and squeeze more moans out of her lungs. Perhaps he should have been the chief in that play, the Daddy.

“We could buy an inn or a bar, only for respectable men… And you'd be of service, with nothing to cover your bountiful hips," breathed the Human in a tender tone.

Oh, the thought from this fantasy swirled within the Dragonborn's mind until the blue eyes turned left where the cowls and tarp hid nothing. And the back of a Wagon where was a relaxed row of soldiers… And mostly an Argonain who eyed them. The soldier frowned at the couple, his eyes glaring at the Breton abusing and molesting that innocent maid.

Or so thought the Slut before the mage followed the gaze and grinned… To both Argonians.

“We have a witness. Don't worry girl, he'll join you," brushed the Breton aside while he used his idle hand to heft his Bitch's legs and force her to sit on his lap… It wasn't as discrete, and the travelers heard the fumbling. But it was nothing of importance as the Human's breath was on the Argonian's neck and breast, facing his prize.

“What do you mean?"

“Nothing, girl. Now be good and show us the goods," added the Mage while extending a hand beyond the cowl to pull on the tarp, or at least the inner part used as a makeshift separation or curtain. On the other hand, the Slut outstretched that long neck and body, exposing those now limber arms and legs except for the parts that mattered to men while still showing her cowled backside to unwanted witnesses…

But the front, buxom and heavy, round and gravid looking, tiny and ridiculous, it was visible… And exposed.

Those heavy breasts constantly leaked with milk, even today after the Breton told him to wear none. But those silver rings didn't help in that ordeal as they pulled down on that chest by their mere weight. That belly was round, distended even, like signs of pregnancy but bore no swellings associated with eggs or live birth; It was deliciously taut but sterile of any new life. Much like that cock caged back into that dwemer contraption: so small it crushed the Argonian's manhood behind a wall of stainless steel. But those testicles, ripe and swollen, hung heavy in that scrotum marked by a cross branded on the scales.

There was no way to ignore it, to ignore what that Bitch had been. And it was less subtle when the Breton lifted one of those swollen testicles and granted them a shock… A discrete spell that stole a faint cry from the Dragonborn. Followed by fluids pouring from the cage onto those useless and strained panties, then rolled on the right and slipping out nut. In the end, if anyone really paid attention, that Whore was wearing nothing under the cowl but no one had paid heed to this.

Except for the Soldier who watched slackjawed, his eyes fixated on the failed male before him… Especially as she squatted over the Breton, peeling that vision away so she could be covered once more.

And for her sir to be pleased again. He sighed: “Ah, girl… I missed your cunt," he whispered to the Argonian's earhole… Before glancing at the Male. He was watching them with envy for a second. Before his attention was drawn away by a distant cry.

“Heh, he liked what he saw? Do you think he knows who you really are?"

“No- No sir," whimpered the Dragonborn, lowering those hips further down. Further, as the Human's bulge passed between those cheeks and teased the clenched pucker. After all the abuse received in the last weeks, the velvety orifice had turned into a nice and warm sleeve that opposed the cold Skyrim wind. Searing hot walls to press against, squeezing and clenching around a cock until it managed to milk out any ounce of cum.

“It doesn't matter… You want me to fuck you, Girl? In that wagon?"

To the Breton's question, the Argonian didn't speak but nodded while the Human guided her hand against her nuts, forcing a shift in their position. He then fuddled with his slacks until he finally managed to pull it. His shaft, his cock, hard and erect. It wasn't the largest, the longest, he didn't have the biggest balls either. But he knew how to press her buttons…

And there, the red tip was entirely exposed.

“Go on, lube it up." stated the Human, guiding the Argonian's hands toward those blossoming nipples to pinch and play with them. To pull on the rings, to grab, to wile, to please… To do more.

And for her to heave and growl.

“That's it. Lube it. And if you're lucky, there will be some seed," praised the Mage as he watched fluid poor from those reddening teats on the belly then on each side of the Bitch. All the while, from the cage, dripped some watery liquid: translucent, inept, inert. Just liquid that dropped on his cock and coating it… But nothing dense, musky, virile. There was none into those balls.

“They're really done for, aren't they?" mocked the Human, giving those nuts a gentle stroke while he used his other hand to cup her cheeks… And that mouth to suckle a nub.

“Yes, sir. They are."

“That's good. Good girls don't need them," pondered the man as he finally flicked a bead of milk.

The taste of it was a delicacy without equal to the Mage's tongue… Much like the feeling when he guided those hips back and down, forcing the girl to sit entirely on the shaft until he was fully hilted. Outside, they may be screeching but here, it was a paraside. Already he sensed the natural lubricant ooze from that hole, watery with a sweet scent as it spread… And slathered over his freezing balls until they, too, felt warmer.

“Hrmphhr. You're so good at it… Squeeze harder," groaned the man. In a few seconds, he pushed the last inch within the orifice and sensed it close. That rim closed and pressed, akin to lips. It kissed the entirety of his dick, massaged it. And then, the Argonian extended her legs, stretched them as the hole was pulled away from the dick. But the orifice remained clenched, squeezing. That hole, it was lips squeezing around his dick and ceaselessly sucking on it. Even pulling away didn't stop this. Even with faint squelching noise whenever the suction couldn't hold, and air escaped.

But the sound was… Music to his ear: low, discrete, but sensual as it danced around his sense of hearing while muffling the noises outside the wagon and behind the curtain. Oh, he loved her. And so, he stole more of those beads by covering the nips with love, care, and kisses. Even if his rough lips stole whimpers away. She should be used to it, to his munching on those nubs. But no, she moaned with that heightened voice.

But it wasn't to hear or taste that he did it. It was to feel it: Whenever she descended, and he nipped that nipple, she would clench her hole and squeeze his whole cock from the base to the tip… Her inner walls would tug on everything from his veins to his glans on the way up, and it was divine… As divine as the rhythm of her thrust as she impaled herself on his dick.

There was no shame in saying the Dragonborn was a slut-born, a Whore capable of adjusting the rhythm to the most pleasing pace for a man like the Mage. And to please him, it was those sensual contractions.

Contractions that kept pushing and growing at an uneven pace, making the man scowl and groan, relax and sigh, drool and swallow, desire and aspire… More, it pushed more out of the Human at the mercy of the Argonian's thrusting hips. His mind begged for more as he latched on the nipples. He guided those hips back and forth, always goading his girl to unleash all that talent and strength. He goaded his Whore to squeeze with all that attention and desires until…

Until…

“The fuck are you doing?"

“Fuck you!"

The two-words sentence came naturally… As well as the frustration of fucking a whore and being cockblocked by a stupid redheaded Nord who could have been keeping to himself.

And… It was all gone. He still felt the pressure released along with the cum pouring into his pretty girl. But no pleasure of note as he exhaled and leaned against the tarp, looking at the face that had burst from behind the curtain.

“Move your ass before I kick it, we have to round up everyone," growled the Hunter before the Mage waved it away: “Give me one second."

“Get done with the whore. The boss is-"

“Fuck you and the boss!" screamed the Breton before the Nord's head disappeared…

And the Breton relaxed. He lifted on the Dragonborn's hips and pulled out… To see his cum-stained cock flop out of the ruined ass, followed by a rain of cum directly onto his groin. Before the Whore stepped back, her own cocklet dripping inside the chastity cage.

The scaly face was cold, controlled, but the Mage still smiled.

“We'll do that again later, okay?"

“Of course, Sir."

“Good. Stay inside. I'll handle everything," handwaved the Breton while he crawled out of the tight and musky space. He pulled on his dirty pants and attempted to cinch his belt quickly before jumping off the cart and onto the paved road.

Again, the wolves had done an excellent job weeding out the guards and soldiers. Most of the beasts had fled, but some remained around to get their share of human meat as well as to mark their territory, leaving their stench behind. The place reeked, but it was worse with the smell of soiled trousers from those without combat experience. Poor lads, terrible way to end.

He had heard nothing during the fight, too enthralled by the slut's curves. But that was alright. In the end, the group barely needed him, and with a grin, he threw the cowl away to advance on the misty road. He took care to pace around the bound refugees and those who were tying their families while at the end of a pointed blade. The Redguard and fine swordman's blade.

“Where were you? We needed you during the attack."

“Ah, as if. You managed to do all this without me, what's the big deal?"

“We have a wounded," the human laconically answered, pointing behind him with his chin.

And so the Mage kept advancing, watching the Hunter scour the pockets of the soldiers, all the while his eyes darted daggers. He could do that as much as he wanted, but that dog fucker was in no position to say nothing when he had done worse and even led to someone's death…

Plus, a Mage's role in that situation is to stay as backup.

Therefore, again the Breton continued until he arrived at a sorry sight. Most of the soldiers had been incapacitated and bound. The dying were agonizing on the roadside while their cart was coated with blood and other disgruntling bits. And sitting against it, his hands tied in his back and his muzzle covered, was an Argonian soldier. The same who had been peeping.

And who was fighting the binds while looking in the direction of another duo.

The Orc… And the neophyte who had joined the group not long ago… The Imperial was relatively short, much like his black hair, and he was holding his arm from which dripped blood despite the Chief's ministration and attempt to tie a kerchief around the wound.

“Where is the damn m-," was grunting the chief while keeping the fabric the best he could… Before gazing up to the Breton and grimacing. “What have you been doing? Go heal him!"

“Urf. Calm down, I'm doing it," gave in the Human while stepping forth and kneeling by the wounded. His hands already shimmered from his spell before he poured magicka within the wound. It was something simple, just accelerating the recovery. But the Neophyte already grimaced and winced from the pain. But sure enough, the skin was reknitting itself quickly, just a superficial cut.

“Stop squirming, or you'll have a nasty scar."

“The fuck have you been doing? Where was the signal? You were supposed to back us up."

Behind him, the Orc paced back and forth, impatient as always.

“I had a private moment with our favorite Slut, she was feisty," commented the Breton, looking above his shoulder. And then onto the scaly fellow attached. He was feisty, too.

“What's the deal with that guy? I thought there was no prisoner, not that I mind."

“Change of plan, we're keeping that one," said the Chief as he stopped and crossed his arms. “Are you done?"

And the Mage nodded, standing up. His hands were bloody and reeking, but nothing a good bath wouldn't undo.

But then, he returned to the Soldier, who glanced back. Those horns, those scales, those scutes. He almost looked like a brute compared to their current bitch.

“So… If you're keeping that one, it is to…" began the Breton, forming a circle with his left hand and inserting his right index through it… Obscenely.

“Yes. I figured it was too dangerous to keep her around. We've been lucky no one had been looking for the Dragonborn. But once we get in a big city, someone will recognize her."

“Eh, true. There's not a lot of scales around. So, what do we do?"

“We off the bitch… Find more elixir and do the same to him," pointed the Orc with his thumb to the bound soldier.

“That's a shame, we liked her a-"

“Is that so?"

The voice appeared almost out of nowhere. Like something unwarranted. And yet, here was the source of that gruff and questioning voice: the comely Argonian they had been fucking all those days. A prude and shy Whore who thought nothing but to suck dicks…

That's what they saw, thought, perceived. The Breton, the Redguard, the Nord, the Imperial, the Orc…

Those curves danced while the creature stepped on the paved road without a cowl to cover that naked body. But at no point shivered the Argonian despite the frigid air, and those blue eyes were… Pure. Two orbs of icy blizzard fixated on them, followed closely by the Redguard and Nord with an eerie expression on their faces. But then came the fire… The white-iron stake being inserted through their temple, the poison in their vein, the web of lies suddenly torn apart. And what they remembered...

What they didn't remember.

They had names. Origins. Family. Faces… When did they meet? When did they form a group? How many were they? And when did she… He came into their lives?

The Breton flinched on fell on his knees while the Imperial held his head, the Orc entirely inert.

And the Dragonborn walked by the despondent Soldier, untying the cords, uncaring for the Male's glassy eyes and empty expression.

“What? What does this mean?" grumbled the Breton as he glanced upward to see his girl extend a hand toward his face and cup his cheek.

A soft hand, so caring and sweet. Those clawed fingers wouldn't hurt, would never hurt… Why did he want to hurt the Dragonborn and kill her? Why did he want to end the perfect life they could have had together? He could have had his pretty girl, the Chief his wife, the Swordsman his cocksleeve, the Hunter his dogslut…

They could have possessed everything they desired.

“A pity."

All around them, creatures growled and thrived beneath the pines. The cold air rushed through the forest on what was to be the sole road leading to Falkreath while avoiding the clogging convoys toward Helgen. Many travelers had been traveling it… And therefore.

“You were lucky we found you before those bandits caught up to you," spoke a Soldier with a coarse voice. An Argonian with scales as black as the night. His scutes and scales growth adorned his chin like a beard, his massive body radiating with heat. Even in spite of his combat skirt being lifted and having a prime Whore sucking on his girthy shaft.

With one hand on the reigns and the other on the Wanton's head, the Soldier glanced above his shoulder to check on his men. They had been attacked by a pack of wolves, but had managed to protect the refugees in their carts and avoid any bloodshed. Of course, some of his men bore bite wounds, but nothing grave. They would arrive at the city without any further itch or surprise.

Except again for the Whore slobbering onto his shaft, sucking him like there was no end of it. And he exhaled, his hand running on the Argonian's nape, the spine, the tail, then the plump asshole.

It had been such a lucky stroke for that Failed male to be onto their path while running away from her captors. But in return, she was pretty willing to thank her saviors. An odd situation for the laughing Soldier.

“What is it?" she asked the Argonian, pulling the dick out of the serrated mouth, those blue eyes brimming with innocence.

“Well… Since you have no coin or anything of value. What about paying back our soldiers when we arrive at Falkreath? Our barracks are lonely," stated the soldier with a grin.

The Imperial gripped his head. He had a name before, something… But now, he could only remember them… Remember her… Remember him.

One day, She was there, and everyone was wrapped around her fingers. Nobody noticed it, feared that demon, or worried. No, they indulged in every perversion and tortured that Whore.

He should have cried, he should have shouted. But when he saw her put a finger over those lips, he couldn't utter a thing. He followed.

Finally, they returned to the cavern. They had to return to the cavern. Each of them was exhorted to return there, they had something to do. The Chief, the Mage, the Swordsman, the Hunter. He called them by their names once.

But he couldn't.

And he fled.

He fled from the sight of the Hunter howling under the wolves, begging and barking at them while they mounted and bit him. Same as the stench of burnt flesh near the mage as he kept stroking himself with his shimmering hands. Nor the cries from the Orc and Redguard, taking turns in their mutual abuse. They were all ravenous beasts.

He fled this. He fled and yet had to approach the ruin of a house. The place was old, burnt, nothing but a hiding spot. He descended into the cave and fetched a bag inside. It wasn't his bag but hers. The Dragonborn's bag.

He would be a witness; he was to survive. It was what the Dragonborn wanted of him after he fulfilled a last final task. And so, the Neophyte began to walk to Falkreath, where he would be awaited.

Afterward?

Afterward. He would go away, run away, flee, disappear. But the memory of those perversions would remain etched in Altus' mind.

---

You've read it all? Great!

Because you now have the possibility to suggest what chapter of our Dragonborn's life you'd like to see! You can comment here or [url=https://www.furaffinity.net/journal/10643683/]here[/url]! The rules are laid out on furaffinity but feel free to suggest anything involving a potential dragonborn... But keep it short and in universe!