Skyrim human female and orc male

The forests of Falkreath shivered and glistened in the mid-afternoon light, the stately firs dripping with the aftermath of a summer cloudburst. Lenore loved the quiet, the isolation, and especially the bountiful game and lush forage she always emerged with after a week spent immersed in the verdant wilderness. Her current trip had been going well, flitting between multiple of her favorite hide-aways, smoking meat and fish she caught, and preparing the piles of mushrooms and herbs she had gathered for sale at the apothecary. This day had initially seemed exceptionally promising, clear blue sky dotted with wisps of clouds and almost no breeze, perfect for hunting. But around noon, gusting winds had picked up, carrying in a thick blanket of bruise-colored cloud cover, and before she had time to retreat to the dry safety of her oilskin tent, the rain was upon her.

Her thick fur and leather jerkin had been soaked through almost instantly, promising an evening of chattering teeth and damp skin unless she wanted to sleep naked. Lenore grumbled, tying back her damp hair, wishing she had paid more attention to her ma and her domestic spellcraft. If she was a proper Breton she would know five different spells to keep herself dry and comfortable, but she had always spent more time with her father, learning how to shoot, track, and prepare game. Now she was caught at least an hour's trek from her carefully covered camp and fire, with nothing more than her steel hunting knife, an empty knapsack, her wet clothing, and waterlogged boots.

A sudden clap of thunder made the small woman jump, and she cursed as the clouds above her head seemed to shudder, preparing for another downpour. She could either start the walk back now, all but guaranteeing a nasty wealth of blisters the next day with her wet boots and soaked socks, or look for shelter. Glancing out of the copse of trees she huddled under, Lenore was immediately rewarded with a smattering of fat, cold droplets to the back of her neck. She made up her mind then, there was no way she was walking back to her camp now. She'd take her chances under some overhang and hope her clothes dried out before nightfall.

The forest around her was soaked, loud, and muggy. The air had gone from delightfully cool to warm and wet in less than an hour, and it made her armor stick to her in an even worse way than just the rainwater. The sooner she was out of the rain, the sooner she could strip down to her underthings. Lenore knew this area, north of Falkreath proper, near the start of the mountain path, and she was sure there was the start of an overhang somewhere nearby. Pushing aside the hanging branches of a pine, she peered up the start of an un-forested slope, an overflowing stream gushing into a small pond, on the edge of flooding down right where she was standing. Squinting up through the sheets of rain, Lenore saw the shadow of the cliffside, a thrum of hope running through her. She groaned as she stepped out of her partially shielded tree cover and was near-instantly soaked through again, cold rainwater already filling her ill-fitting boots. Each step squelched down into the springy grass, water welling up around the toe of her shoe.

Thoughts of shelter, scavenged firewood, and a warm fire were all that kept her going as she trudged up the hill. There had been a path here, or at least usually there was, a spray of worn pebbles and dirt that was now just a river of slick mud, but where there was a path, there was shelter. Nearing the top of the hill, she took a step, and nearly fell as her foot was pulled from her shoe, her right boot thoroughly stuck in a mass of thick mud. Cursing, she braced her left foot and pulled with all her might, the boot stubbornly slipping free with a loud splorch, a spray of muddy water splashing her tunic and collarbone. For a moment, Lenore stood still, breathing hard, irritation thrumming through her, before she stomped the rest of the way up the hill, uneven steps splashing more water up her calves.

She could have cried with relief at the sight that met her. A small camp was nestled on the slope, underneath an overhang of stone. Bedrolls, an intact fireplace, and an empty drying rack sat dry and inviting in front of her, and she made quick work of stripping off the most thoroughly soaked of her outer layers as she scrambled into the dry oasis. The fireplace was cold, empty of embers and burned wood, but a small stack of dry firewood sat nearby, and she wasted no time in stacking them into the pit and sparking her magicka, setting tinder and logs alight. These hunter camps were common in the hold, and she breathed a thankful prayer to the divines that she had stumbled upon this one.

Her boots were almost a lost cause, caked with mud and full of rainwater, so she gingerly went to the edge of the protection of the overhang overhangs, dumping out the water and leaving the soles peeking out into the rain, hopeful the mud would be sluiced off before the downpour stopped. Her jerkin and furs were utterly soaked, as were the clothes underneath, and they peeled off unpleasantly, leaving a sticky feeling on her skin. For a moment she debated how foolish it would be to strip her breeches and tunic off as well, leaving her just in her breast band and smallclothes, before shucking them off as well. She hadn't seen hide nor hair of another hunter yet this trip, and even if someone did come for shelter in the rain she was sure they would understand. The muggy air was no less unpleasant on her bare skin, a trickle of sweat sluicing down her back. She pulled a bedroll close to the fire, sitting on the dry fir. Her clothes hung on the drying rack, dripping sadly onto the ground, but the rack itself was several feet from the fire, and they would certainly dry slow. With a stretch, Lenore got up from the fire, and turned towards the rack, ready to move it closer to the source of heat.

"Well, ain't this a surprise?" A deep voice from behind the Breton made her freeze, halfway through hauling the drying rack closer to the fire. "Turn around, girl, nice and easy." Her hands were frozen on the wooden frame, cold dread locking up her joints, but she slowly looked behind her, inhaling sharply.

A massive Orc stood just inside the camp, clad in the common fur of a bandit. He was soaked through, water dripping from his curved tusks, pierced ear, and down the beads in his coarse hair. A wicked axe hung at his hip, and her eyes immediately darted to her own weapons, laying neatly stacked beside the fire, out of reach. She swallowed, stomach tightening.

"Please…," her voice trembled, as she willed her hands to unclench. The Orc stared at her, a glint of glee in his dark eyes. She swore her fingers creaked as they let go of the wood, turning around unsteadily. The Orc took a step into the camp, and then another, and even though he was still two arms lengths away from her she already had to look up to meet his gaze. Lenore was short, even for a Breton, and as the Orc advanced, she very much felt like a little rabbit caught in the gaze of a bear. He chuffed, breath steaming in the humid air, and a cold shiver ran down her spine, even as her skin wet with warm sweat. His gaze was hot, hungry, she felt the weight of it on the swell of her breast, her legs, her thin neck. Her knees wobbled as he stared at her from across the fire, fear weakening her muscles. She had heard of Orcs savaging women before, a terrible unslakeable lust taking hold of them, and this Orc was a bandit to boot. She would be lucky to escape with her life.

"I have gold," she croaked out, raising a trembling hand towards the pack she had discarded. There was no gold in there, she knew this, her pulse racing. But if he checked, then maybe she could make a run for it, lose him in the forest. He might have been big, but she was fast. Her eyes darted nervously out into the rain, still coming down in dark, unstopping sheets. "Please, you can have whatever you want, just—," she swallowed. "Please don't hurt me."

The Orc laughed, a dark, booming laugh, like a clap of thunder, and smiled. His teeth and tusks gleamed in the firelight, eyes made molten gold. "Little thing, I'm going to do more and hurt you." She could not help but let a small cry of misery escape her mouth, terror hot in her blood. The Orc's eyes gleamed, a massive hand moving to his mercifully covered groin. "Ever had an Orc before?" She shook her head no, and he squeezed himself beneath his furs, chest heaving with anticipation. "'m going to split you raw."

That idea shattered what little composure she'd had, the image of him holding her by the throat, pinning her against the wall of the cliff, rutting into her as she bled and wailed. She didn't want to die out here, raped and savaged, so Lenore did the only thing she could think to do. She bolted.

Her wet feet dug into the dry ground as she sprung forward, adrenaline making her stomach twist. She blindly shot a gust of flame behind her, hoping it would meet its intended target before the rain snuffed it out. She didn't dare look behind her as the rain pounded on her damp skin, she could only look ahead, towards the trees, her possible salvation. A roar of beastly aggression boomed out, shaking her so badly that her feet nearly slipped on the grass beneath her feet. She heard the heavy footfalls behind her as he gave chase, the ground almost shaking at his bulk. She might be quicker than him, but the sheer power of the Orc's muscles made her quake.

The forest seemed an impossible goal, breath tearing in her throat. Even after only a few steps, she felt the heat of him behind her, his hot breath on her neck. She took another step, and she felt one of his massive hands begin to close around her upper arm, but she was wrenched away before he could catch her. The slick grass betrayed and saved her in that moment, she shouted as she crashed to the ground, feet losing all purchase as she began to tumble down the hill. The trees loomed, watching her approach, and she tried to scramble to her feet, even as her muscles screamed at her to stop. She wobbled, hands tearing at the grass, a clump of moss coming up in her palm, when a hot hand clamped down on her waist, and she was sliding backwards. She screamed, kicking out blinding, her heart in her throat, fingers scrabbling against the hand at her side, but then the other closed around her neck, hauling her up into the air. The Orc, sweating, breathing hard, lifted her up like she was nothing, one palm spanning her entire right hip.

"That," he growled out, throat wet and rumbling, "That was a very stupid thing to do." Even between breaths, he grinned at her, a terrible glee on his face. "Coulda 'ad a bedroll." He shook his head, water sluicing off of those tusks.

"Please," she gasped out, her breath coming in thin pants around the hand at her throat. "I'll be good, please, please don't kill me." She meant it, tears beading in her eyes. The Orc chuffed, and then released his grip on her hip. She shrieked, sagging in his hold, her entire body held up by the hand on her throat. Her feet kicked out uselessly, trying to find purchase on anything. She thrashed, gasping, her chest burning as the hand around her throat tightened. A hand was on hers, binding her wrists together tightly. Her vision was greying out on the edges, and she wept hysterically, images of the Orc savaging her dead body flashing unbidden in her mind. She was aware of him moving, his other hand doing something she could not see, but she couldn't do anything but wheeze and weakly struggle in his grip.

Then, that grasp too disappeared. She gasped, ready to crash into the ground, but instead she landed on something hot, firm, and alive.

The Orc was half-reclined on the slope, back against the wet grass. She realized as she moved, that something hot twitched against her back, and she cried out when she saw that he was naked under her. She twisted, trying to get free, but only succeeded in turning her back to the Orc, grinding her pelvis against the hot brand of flesh beneath her. He was huge, obscenely so. She whimpered as his cock jerked, trapped under one of her skinny thighs. With a groan, he bucked his hips, and she slipped, thigh jerking up, and his cock sprang up, smacking the hot length of him against her stomach. Her tied hands slid against it, and she pulled them up, trying to get away from the terrible cock. She struggled, but a growl from behind her stopped her movements. She had just had one of his hands wrapped around her throat, it would have been so easy for him to break her neck. She trembled, gut watery, tears sluicing down her face.

Then, she heard the unmistakable sound of a weapon being drawn, the soft snick of a blade leaving its scabbard, and she trembled, shoulder blades heaving. The cold edge of a dagger kissed the nape of her neck. She shook, frozen, mute, as the blade skittered down her back, sliding against the cloth of her breastband.

"Let's see what you have under here," His gravelly voice rumbled right her sensitive ear and she quivered, the husk of it shooting heat straight to stomach, the fear making her insides light up. With a quick jerk, the band was severed, cloth sticking to her skin, but ready to fall. The dagger fell to the ground, a quiet thunk as the blade sunk into the soft soil. The cock at her belly twitched, a line of precome drizzling down it, when she felt the sharp press of something hard against her back. Then, a huff of breath, the lap of a massive tongue. His tusks, Lenore thought numbly. With the edge of his teeth, he gripped the edge of the cloth, pulling it away. She shivered, her small breasts quivering. He did not draw away from her skin, sharp teeth and tusk dragging along the crest of her shoulder, a hot tongue dragging along her collarbone. His hand idling reached around, finding the softness of her bosom. Two fingers tweaked one of her nipples, and she keened, jerking away from the sting. He palmed her breast, feeling the small weight of her, squeezing hard. At the joining of her shoulder and neck he stopped the path of his tongue, teeth sinking in. She groaned, feeling blood well up, a dull, throbbing pain rising up to meet his teeth. His hips bucked, then, almost against his control, and he unclenched his jaw, sucking a deep bruise around the teeth marks. His hand squeezed her breast again, making her eyes water.

"Sweet," he groaned, tusks scraping into the back of her neck. "Virgins always are."

A sob tore out of Lenore, then. She didn't think it was obvious, she was a woman grown, she took care of herself, but apparently the Orc had seen right through her.

"Always love breaking in a fresh cunt." A hand covered her stomach, giving his cock a sharp tug. Warmth spurted out onto her skin, trickling down to her groin. He lifted her then, and she gasped as she felt his length rub against the hot mouth of her cunt through her smalls. Huffing, he used both hands to lift her into the air, bringing her hips to the level of his face. She wept, gazing out through the rain, towards the forest.

A hot waft of breath against her inner thigh made her quiver, the hard drag of a tusk against the artery of her leg. He could bleed her dry in moments if he wanted to. But instead, he turned his attention to the soaked material hiding her sex. She felt his lips on her skin, the scrape of teeth, and with a quick flick of his jaw, he had torn through the thin material. The Orc had torn her smalls apart with his teeth. A leak of heat, not from fear, guttered inside of her. He huffed against her cunt, nosing at her pink folds and dark curls. For a moment, she thought he might lick her, taste her salty skin, but he just grumbled approvingly and lowered her back onto his lap. Her face was flushed, she wasn't sure why she had thought he might show her any attention, redness creeping up her neck.

The Orc brought her attention back to reality with a sharp thrust, grinding against her. His flesh seemed searing against hers, warm precum smearing against the lips of her entrance. Just the head of him seemed huge against her, and she shook her head wildly, trying to wriggle away. One of her feet hit him squarely in the chest, and he growled a warning.

"Let me show you what a real orc can do." He lowered his hands, pressing her down onto his cock, and she yelped as the head of him slid hungrily against her cunt. The heat of him was sweltering, enormous, and she sobbed as she felt the slick of his excitement rub against her. He ground his hips up, catching her entrance, pressing in just slightly.

"No, no!" She begged, the heat, the size, all of him was too much. The sting of just the head made her hips ache. "Please, slow, that's all I ask, please. Don't break me." Her voice was watery and terribly unconvincing to the Orc.

With a laugh, and a terrible thrust, the head of him popped inside of her. It was searingly hot, huge, it felt like he had pushed his fist into her, a rending pain rippling through her pelvis.

"Take it out, please, please it's too bi—mmph!" A palm flattened against her mouth. He thrust up, the fat head of him making a path through her untouched insides, wet heat carving into her. She sobbed against his hand as he ground against something that made heat spark in her groin. It was wrong, but the enormity of him made her so hot she could barely stand it, it was like he lit a fire in her belly and was stoking it with every press and thrust.

He groaned, teeth rubbing into her already weeping shoulder, laving against the wound.

"Tight, so tight for me." He thrust into her another inch, her knees jumping into the air, the drag of him chasing the breath out of her lungs. "Good, so good." He ground his teeth against her neck, and she shook her head, writhing, trying to bite at his hand. He huffed, drawing away from her exposed through. He bucked up, and she squealed, trying to pull herself up by her hands, to escape the cock in her burning cunt. He sniffed, running a tusk against her cheek. He squeezed her wrists once, tightly.

"You asked for it." His hand released, and with a chuckle, he dropped her onto his cock.

Lenore screamed as she slammed down onto him, his cock pressing into her cunt to the hilt, a rending, bright pain lighting up her spine. It was the worst thing she had ever felt, her hips flat against his thighs as he ground into her. She felt him almost in her stomach, it seemed, the hot press of him was mind-boggling, too big to fit without ruining her. He groaned, his hand lighting on her waist, squeezing her flesh tight. Her mouth gaped under his palm, chest heaving, the breath chased out of her lungs by his cock. It seemed he could have come out of her throat if he tried hard enough, he was so deep inside of her.

Then, he began to move. His other hand grasped her waist, and he lifted her a few inches off of him, laughing and groaning as she whimpered, the slick glide of his cock against her tight heat audible even in the rain. He groaned as he lowered her back down, fucking himself with her cunt, jerking her up and down with sharp movements as he grunted. Lenore could barely see straight, her cunt so full of Orc cock. She gasped as his teeth found her ear, mouthing at it, even as he held her ass flat to his thighs, thrusting as deep as he could. The pain was still terrible, she had never had anything inside of her, let alone the thick, pulsing cock of an Orc, but with each thrust he knocked against something that made her knees weak.

He grumbled something, too low for her to hear, but the vibration of his voice rumbled through her chest. His mouth found her neck again, and she gasped as he sucked another dark bruise into her throat, breath hitching as his thrusts began to grow faster, more erratic. His teeth ground against her pulse, broad tongue laving against the beat of her heart, and she couldn't suppress a moan. Her hips shook as he slammed into her, and then he was moving, pushing up to his knees without stopping his pace.

Lenore's legs dangled, feet brushing the ground, arms hanging uselessly in front of her. The Orc's grip around her waist tightened, massive fingers surely leaving bruises, and she groaned. His cock was lighting up her insides, dragging against flesh she had never felt before, sending heat licking up her spine, each thrust making little noises escape from her mouth. It ached, her hips wobbling each time he moved, but the pleasure was building too, hot and inescapable.

"Like that?" He slurred, voice rough around the edges, and she moaned in response. He chuckled, one of his hands slipping down to her hip. A single broad finger delved into her curls, calloused tip brushing against the pink apex of her, and she could not help the wild animal noise that ripped from her. "Good, fuck, Breton bitch, you'll never be the same after this." He let his other hand drop, and she tipped forward until her face was pressed against the wet grass. The finger on her clit began to rub, hard, and she cried out, pleasure threatening to white her vision out, when a hard slap against her ass made her cry out. His palm squeezed the globe of her ass, fingers digging into her supple flesh. With a cry, she shuddered, legs trembling, the bubble of pleasure that had been building up finally bursting. She saw white, her cunt was on fire with pleasure spasmed around him, muscles contracting furiously, calves tensing as her toes curled.

With a roar, he tipped forward, the finger on her clit still rubbing furious circles, his other heavily muscled arm around her throat, broad palm bracing him against the ground. She was totally crushed in his hold, his whole body covering her, hundreds of pounds of pure muscle keeping her still and contained. His massive thighs squeezed around her as he pistoned in, her cunt still squeezing him. She screamed, another orgasm ripping through her, thighs quivering, and she felt his pace stutter.

She laid limply across the ground, mouth open, hips twitching as his finger still worked at her oversensitized clit. She whimpered, her cunt trying to spasm around him, and this sent him over the edge.

With a bellow, his arm around her neck seized, and he came. Hot, sticky warmth flooded her insides, the Orc twitching and thrusting even as his seed filled her, spilling out around his cock, pooling on the grass under them. It seemed like his orgasm would never end, that she would be trapped under him forever, his cock forcing more and more seed into her until she burst like an overfull wineskin.

Eventually, though, his thrusts stopped, and his arm retracted from around her throat. Even the rain had begun to slow. He groaned, drawing in a deep breath, pulling back up onto his knees. Her poor, inflamed little cunt did not want to let go of his length, and she moaned as she was pulled up after him, a mere inch of him slipping out of her.

"Greedy little cunt." He grumbled, and with a sharp tug on her waist, he tried to drag himself free of her. Even softening, he was huge, the head of him dragging against her walls, straining at her entrance. She whined at the stretch, the thick bulb of him pulling at her sensitive flesh, and with a grunt he popped free. Cum immediately began to slide out of her abused hole, mingling with rain and mud on the ground.

She tried to curl in on herself, but her legs barely wanted to cooperate, so she settled onto her side, tears leaking down her cheeks as she trembled.

"Good lay." He picked up his discarded knife, and for a dreary moment she thought he was going to finish her off, let her bleed out in a puddle of blood and cum, but instead he sliced the bindings on her wrist. "Don't let me catch you again, else I find another hole to use." He laughed to himself, giving her reddening asscheek a smack.

Then, he left her there alone, walking off into the forests. Lenore watched him leave, breast heaving as he disappeared into the treeline. It took her many minutes to shuffle to her knees, a hand gingerly touching her sore and dripping sex. She was hot there, still open slightly, and puffy from pounding it had suffered. Everything hurt. It took even longer to crawl back up the hill, feeling cum ooze out of her with every movement, and crawl into the circle of heat from the dying fire. Too exhausted to think, she collapsed onto the dry bedroll, body giving in.

From the treeline, hungry eyes watched her slumber. He'd let her go, this time.