Skyrim FanFiction, Skyrim Erotica, and More
Sujava was about two seconds away from coming when the spear burst through his right shoulder with a sickening crunch.
The elf whore who was on her knees in front of him lifted her head up—his cock dropping unceremoniously out of her mouth—and started to scream.
The shrill, high-pitched wail of surprise and fear.
Sujava didn’t feel any pain yet. Just a dull ache pinning him in place. Kreeves must have turned against me, he figured. Need to run. He tried to move forward from the plush sofa on which he’d been getting his blow job.
Then he felt the pain.
A rippling, burning thing that started in his shoulder and radiated throughout his entire body. His cock shriveled into a nub no bigger than a child’s toe within seconds. And then Sujava screamed.
The crazed, terrible cry of absolute terror.
The whore stood up and ran for the door, which gaped open on its hinges. She was almost to the threshold when a thin arm burst from the shadow and hit her in the chest. For a moment, she was enveloped in green, and then she fell to the floor with a thud.
Narova Blackhair emerged from the darkness. Her body was lithe and black and lean. Her face a bloody ruin from her fight with Kreeves. She glanced down at the paralyzed, naked elf at her feet.
“Fucking whore,” Narova muttered.
Then she looked up and narrowed her eyes at Sujava.
She began to walk forward.
“No…” Sujava whispered, so softly he could barely hear it himself. Then louder: “No, no, no, no, no!”
With slow, even strides Narova crossed the room. Her body seemed to drink up the orange light from the wall sconces like some black, endless pit going down into the earth.
“Yes, yes, yes, yes,” she hissed with each step. “Your time has come, Sujava.”
He tried to moved again, but the pain was even worse this time. And the spear didn’t budge.
“Please, please,” he sobbed. “I’m rich. Wealthy beyond measure. Whoever hired you, I’ll beat their offer. Beat it by a hundred times.”
“You cannot buy your way out of this, Sujava.” She said his name as if the very sound of it tasted rotten inside of her mouth.
“A thousand times!” he yelped. “Please, I’ll give you everything I have. Everything!”
She stopped a foot away from his impaled body and looked at him. Her dark, pitiless eyes burning down into him. Sujava glanced at her face for a second and immediately turned away.
“Look at me, Sujava.”
He could only cower more, trying to burrow his head into his chest like a turtle hiding in its shell.
Narova’s hand shot out, clamped down on his jaw and yanked his face upwards.
“LOOK AT ME, FUCKER!” she snarled, spit and blood flying from her mouth.
Slowly, he leveled his small, wet eyes and looked on her face.
“No…it cannot be. It cannot be…you.”
He remembered her—the wood elf that he’d kept in his basement for almost half a year. He had never been able to break her, even in all that time. She had stayed wild and vicious to the bitter end. And one night, she’d simply vanished. Gone.
Sujava shat himself.
The brown filth oozed into the cushion below him. The smell filled the air.
Narova moved to her left a step to avoid the small river of shit that ran down the sofa. She kept one hand on his jaw and punched him three times in the face with the other.
One, two, three.
Sujava’s nose snapped and popped and buckled. Blood filled his mouth. Narova let go of his face and backed away.
“That bodyguard of yours did a number on me.” She pointed to her own broken face. “You didn’t deserve a warrior like that protecting you. We’re square, for that at least.”
He looked at her again, eyes brimming with tears of pain. Shaking his head slowly.
“But you’re debt is far from paid,” she said.
Narova wrapped her fingers around one of his ears and ripped it off of his head.
“AAAAAAHHHH,” he howled. Neck veins bulging.
“That’s for whipping my back into a piece of fucking skeever meat!”
She tore of his other ear and flung it across the room.
“And that’s for pulling out my fucking fingernails and feeding them to me!” she hissed. “Do you remember doing that? DO YOU?!”
“I’m sorry…” he moaned. “I’m…forgive me.”
That gave Narova pause.
“Forgive you? All right, I’ll forgive you. Here,” she grabbed the shaft of the spear with both hands, “sorry about all this, let’s rectify it immediately.”
She ripped the spear out of his body—the barbed tip pulled a bundle of nerves and meat and flesh with it.
Sujava shrieked and howled. It felt like she’d torn off his entire arm. Blood pumped out of him in a thick torrent.
“You’re a fucking monster!” he screamed.
“No, Sujava. You’re the monster. I’m just your nightmare come alive.”
Behind them, the whore had managed to stand up. “What are you doing?” she called, she sounded like a drunken child, still weighed down by Narova’s spell.
“Run away, girl,” Narova called without turning around. “Run far away.”
The whore did not need to be asked twice. The sound of her feet shuffling on the stone moved down the hallway and disappeared.
“You’re going to bleed to death in about thirty seconds,” Narova observed, her voice strangely calm now.
Sujava moaned. “Please…you don’t have to do this.”
Narova shrugged. “No, I don’t.”
She removed a small glass bottle from the pouch on her hip.
“I could give this to you. I had it made specifically for this moment.” She tossed the bottle back and forth between each hand. “Would you like that, Sujava? Would you like me to save your life?”
“Gnnnnn,” he mumbled. And nodded his head.
“I can’t hear you.”
“Give it to me….yes.”
“Tell me why. Give me one good reason and it’s yours.”
He paused. Swallowed. Rooted around in his mind for something to say.
“Mercy…” he whined. “For the sake of mercy.”
Narova sighed. “So predictable. Clinging to life like a piece of shit clings to a cow’s asshole.”
She uncorked the bottle and slowly poured the deep-green liquid over Sujava’s hemorrhaging shoulder. The room filled with a thick, earthy scent. Like acres of moss stretching along a forest floor. It was warm, too. So warm.
“You should have let yourself die,” Narova whispered to him as the last of the liquid drained from the bottle. “That was your chance for my mercy, but you didn’t take it.”
The pain in his body disappeared. Melted down to nothing. A forgotten nightmare. And for a few blissful moments, Sujava was at peace.
Then the roots began to grow inside of him.
They were small at first—wispy tendrils of a newborn tree. But they grappled for life, nurtured and fueled by the blood in his veins.
“The lesson to be learned from this,” Narova said, “is that you shouldn’t accept a gift from a woman who just tore off both your ears. There’s likely to be…a catch.”
The roots weren’t tickling now. They were digging. Burrowing into his skin and stretching their reach. Sujava felt wood breaking through skin and muscle and tissue and bone. It was a new kind of pain—to feel something growing inside of you with reckless abandon.
Using you for food, like some bucket of soil.
He screamed. The nameless, heart-rending screech of a man being eaten alive.
Narova watched him and smiled.
His noises were cut off when the wood pushed into his throat. Turned his vocal chords to oak. Then the pain moved higher, and Sujava felt his head burst into a thousand different directions as his skull was split open and leaves came sprouting out.
“The alchemists promised me that you would survive,” Narova said. “That a human part of you would remain. Always. Are you in there, Sujava? Do you remember me?”
He was in there. The last remnants of his face still showed in the bark. His eyes nothing more than discolored ovals. But they saw her. They remembered her.
And Narova Blackhair knew it.
She ran one hand over what used to be his face. It felt warm on his wooden skin.
“Yes, you’re in there.” She patted him lightly. “I’m going to come visit you, Sujava. Every few months or years, maybe. And I’m going to cut pieces off of you. All of the best pieces that you work so hard to grow.” She shrugged. “And when I die, I’m going to have someone else do it for me. And someone else after that. Snip, snip, snip down through the generations.”
She made a cutting motion with her fingers.
“They say an oak tree can live for thousands of years. I hope that’s true. I hope that when my bones are ground down to dust, you’re still here dreading the next time those doors will open and someone will come in brandishing a pair of pruning shears.”
She stepped forward a pried a stripped a long piece of bark off his face with her knife. It was agony. Like she had started a fire on him and left it there to burn.
“See you later, Sujava. Don’t go anywhere.”
Narova turned and walked towards the door, laughing to herself. She didn’t look back.