| |
A Thoughtful Gift
By Kudara
Disclaimer: The Elder Scrolls Series world belongs to Bethesda
Softworks and no infringement of copyright/trade marks is
intended.
Rating: NC-17
Feedback: Always welcome, feedback is what encourages me to keep
writing. Please let me know what you like and what you dislike
about the story.
Revision History: 05/04/06; 08/07/06
Summary: A Morrowind short story.
********************************************************************
Red Mountain, located almost in the center of the isle of
Vvardenfell, erupted every thousand or so years, covering the
land surrounding the mountain with lava and ash. Over the years
since the last eruption, wind and rain had worn down the lava
revealing oddly shaped boulders and sharp spires of harder rock.
The entire landscape was one of steep slopes and ravines, and
the occasional area where sluggishly flowing lava could still be
found.
Frequent cold winds howled down from the mountain, whipping up
ash from the black volcanic soil and creating blinding ash laden
storms. Inhabited by blight infected wild animals, ash zombies,
and the occasional wandering and frequently starving vampire, it
was not a place anyone frequented unless they were certain of
their ability to survive it’s various challenges and even then
one often found oneself rather rudely surprised.
On this night, dimly though the grey colored winds two figures
could be seen struggling both through the driving, stinging wind
and with one another. The taller of the two, a male, drug the
much smaller, slighter figure along by bound arms. As the wind
cleared, allowing the two figures to show more clearly for a
moment, they revealed that the male was a tall Nord, thick of
body, armored in chain, blond-haired and bearded. The smaller
figure was that of a woman, dark haired and pale skinned, and
fine featured in the manner of the Breton race. A dark bruise
along one cheek and about the opposite eye marred her otherwise
beautiful features. The fashionable, expensive dress she wore
marked her as a member of the upper class, though the dress was
now torn and soiled along its length. The woman stumbled and
fell, and the cause of the state of her dress became clear as
the man simply pulled her along the rocky ground for a moment
before brutally wrenching her into a standing position. The wind
slowed for a moment, long enough for her pain filled cry to be
heard before the wind picked up again and carried it away.
Finally the male stopped, shoved the woman to the ground, and
from the bag he carried slung over his shoulder he pulled out a
mallet and stake. The woman struggled to her feet and attempted
to run, but the man dropped his tools and caught up with her
after on a short while, dragging her back and then slapping her
hard across her already bruised face face. The woman fell to the
ground and huddled there, holding her bound hands up to her face
where the man’s blow had split the already bruised skin of her
cheek and it now bled freely.
The man hammered the stake into the hard ground and tied a
length of braided cord to it, then roughly pulled the woman’s
bound hands away from her face and tied the other end of the
cord around her bonds, fastening her to the stake.
Neither saw the dark, silent figure hidden in the shadow between
two boulders up the steep, broken slope to the north watching
them, nor did they notice when the figure moved, slipping
quietly from shadow to shadow until it drew within hearing
distance.
“No, please don’t do this Magnus, please don’t leave me here. I
promise I’ll never return home if you let me go, my father will
never know,” the watcher heard the woman beg, tears streaking
through the ash dust that coated her face.
The man responded with an ugly smile, “Unnatural whore,” he
spat, “I wouldn’t risk your father’s wrath for you.”
“Please, please don’t leave me here to die,” the woman pleaded,
but her eyes showed her hopelessness, her knowledge that her
pleas were falling upon deaf ears.
He growled angrily, “Always walking around with your nose stuck
up in the air too good to pay attention to the likes of us, and
then your father finds you with Henrick’s daughter doing things
no woman should do with another.”
The woman buried her face in her bound hands with a sob, “He
killed her, he just drew his dagger and killed her.”
The blond man stared at her coldly, unmoved by her tears, “Agna
was a good girl until you started hanging around her you slut.
You talked her into doing those things with you, you’re the
reason she’s dead now.” He fell silent for a moment, staring at
her, “Your father said to leave you out here for the animals or
one of the wandering vampires to find. After a few days’ there
won’t be anything left of you for anyone to stumble upon and
your father can declare you lost. You can’t be allowed to
humiliate and embarrass your father and family with your ways.”
He stared at the huddled, now quietly sobbing figure for a
moment longer, “Your father meant for some animal or vampire to
rip out your throat, but there’s too much of a chance that you
might escape. I can tell him that some bandits found you.”
The harsh scrapping sound of steel being pulled out of a
scabbard caused the bound woman to look up at the man. A look of
horror crossed her face as she realized that he meant to kill
her right now, “No!” she cried, and frantically scrambled away
from the blonde man, tugging hysterically at the cord that bound
her to the stake in the ground when she reached the limit of the
rope.
A gurgling cry and the thud of a sword upon the dry ground
caused the woman to pause in her struggles with the cord,
staring in shock at the man who had brought her here. The Nord
was clawing madly at his throat where a dark arrow had pierced
his neck through and through. As the woman watched another arrow
struck him in the chest. The man’s blue eyes widened for a
moment before he fell to his knees and then face forward onto
the ground.
The woman stared wildly around searching for the source of the
attack, not knowing whether it meant good or ill for her. A dark
figure, a bow held in one hand stepped out from the deep shadows
between the rocks some fifteen feet away from her.
“You seem to be in somewhat of a bind,” the figure commented in
a low toned feminine voice as she came nearer.
The bound woman gaped, the jest catching her by surprise. As the
figure drew near enough for her to see the woman’s face she let
out a short scream of renewed fear and started scrambling away
again from the snarling, fang-faced form.
“It’s a helm silly girl,” exclaimed the woman exasperatedly,
pausing to take off the offending armor piece and revealing the
face of a dark haired, red eyed, Dunmer woman.
The most recent fright upon everything else that had happened
recently was too much for the bound woman; she slumped to the
ground and began crying.
The Dunmer woman knelt beside her and pulled out a knife. “Your
hands girl, hold them out so I can cut your bonds,” she ordered.
Trembling, the bound woman finally obeyed her sobs decreasing in
intensity to the occasional gulping breath. With a quick
movement the Dunmer woman drew a dagger and sliced through them
before the battered woman could do more than take an in startled
breath.
The wind rose again, causing both of them to turn their faces
away from it and the stinging ash that it carried. “Thank you,”
the Breton raised her voice so she could be heard over the
howling of the wind as she gingerly rubbed her bruised wrists
where the leather cord had cut into them.
The Dunmer woman rose to her feet and held out one gauntleted
hand to the other woman to help her. “There’s a place nearby
where both of us can take shelter from the storm and I can see
to your injuries,” she shouted.
Hesitantly the woman accepted the assistance and allowed the
Dunmer to help her rise to her feet. Curiously she looked into
the dark skinned woman’s face. Her father had only recently been
assigned to the Imperial Garrison that protected the Ebony mine
at Caldera, and she had never met any Dunmer before she and her
father had moved to Vvardenfell. She had become used to the red
eyes and bluish-grey coloration of the dark skinned elven race,
but this woman’s intensely red eyes seemed to almost glow with
an inner light, making them very noticeable and compelling.
“Thank you,” she said to the woman, not having to shout as they
were standing close together.
The Dunmer nodded, squinting against the stinging wind and
quickly replaced the frightening mask like helm upon her head.
“What’s your name girl?” the Dunmer woman asked.
The comment stung enough for the woman to momentarily forget her
current situation. She absolutely hated being called a girl, she
was short even for a Breton woman, but she was definitely no
longer a girl. “Elisa Jurard, and I’m not a girl, I’m nineteen
years old.” She made an effort at the usual imperious tone she
used to make up for her lack of height, but after the words were
out Elisa realized that she only sounded petulant instead of
assured and blushed.
A low laugh from the Dunmer woman confirmed her suspicions and
she blushed harder as the two of them struggled through the
wind. “I’m Llathala U’mara, Elisa Jurard,” the Dunmer offered
her name and then reached out to steady the younger woman as she
stumbled over a patch of particularly rough ground. “Poor thing,
you’ve had a rather rough day today haven’t you.”
The unexpected turn from almost mocking to kind, disrupted the
tenuous control Elisa had on her emotions and she was
embarrassed to feel tears rise up in her eyes as she remembered
the events of the day, and the situation she now found herself.
She and Agna hadn’t been in love with one another; their
relationship had been one of mutual lust that had begun almost
as soon as they recognized their interest in one another, and
had evolved into friendship after a few weeks of sharing one
another’s bed.
Elisa had suspected her father would not approve of her
lifestyle, but never had she expected what had happened this
afternoon. Unbidden her mind recalled the moment when her father
had burst into her bedroom and found her and Agna together. He
had shouted in anger and pulled her roughly by the hair from
where she had been between Agna’s thighs, then struck her twice
across the face before finally releasing her. The hard blows
stunned her and she had fallen to the floor where she had
watched disbelievingly as he pulled his dagger from his belt and
struck the defenseless Agna killing her. It had happened so
quickly and unexpectedly that she hadn’t the time to argue,
protect or even warn the other woman.
Her vision obscured by the tears in her eyes, she stumbled again
and would have fell had not Llathala caught her. Elisa heard the
Dunmer woman sigh at her clumsiness, and the next thing she knew
she was in the dark skinned woman’s arms being carried along.
Instinctively she began struggling.
“Quit it, or I’ll drop you,” Llathala snapped, “you’re not
dressed for walking in the Ashlands, and I’d like to make it to
the cave sometime before morning.”
Elisa stilled, suddenly afraid that the woman would not only
drop her, but leave her alone out here in the cold, dark,
windswept wilderness. Instead, she buried her bruised face into
the hollow formed by the pauldron and helm of the Dunmer woman’s
armor. The dark skinned woman strode along steadily, showing no
sigh that she was distressed by the Breton’s weight. As time
passed, and the woman continued carrying her without any sign of
fatigue, Elisa wondered at the Dunmer’s apparent strength and
endurance. She was shorter and slighter than Llathala, but she
would have thought the woman would have grown tired of carrying
her by now. Suddenly the howling, stinging wind was left behind
and Elisa looked up to see rough grey walls surrounding them and
realized they had reached the cavern.
Llathala stopped after walking a short way into the cave and let
Elisa stand on her own feet. “This cave housed some bandits a
few hours ago, stay here while I move their bodies,” the Dunmer
woman gruffly ordered her. Before the full meaning of her words
had sunk in the Dunmer woman moved away and disappeared into the
gloomy depths leaving Elisa gaping after her. The Breton woman
huddled uneasily against the cavern wall, starting and staring
at every little sound.
Bitterly Elisa cursed her father and the belated paternal
impulse that had made him decide she needed to live with him
instead of her Aunt. She had lived on the mainland, in the
Imperial City Marketplace District, ever since her mother had
died some eleven years ago. Had friends there, lovers there,
until her father had decided that her Aunt was no longer capable
of taking care of her and insisted that she move to this
backwater province. Then he had found out about her and...her
mind shied away from remembering once again what had
happened...and now he wanted to kill her.
“There’s a place,” Llathala’s voice caused Elisa to start
violently as the woman appeared out of the gloom. The Dunmer
paused for a moment, taking in the renewed tears, and then
continued, “a place where we can bathe and I can see how badly
damaged your face is.” She motioned for Elisa to follow her,
“This way, it isn’t far.”
Pushing herself away from the wall, Elisa followed her rescuer
deeper into the cave, looking around curiously. The Breton knew
very little about caves and rocks, but even she could tell the
walls surrounding her were limestone and wondered whether water
or some other force had carved through the hard rock. They
crossed a crude wooden bridge over a rapidly flowing underground
stream with stacks of open crates and barrels pilled at the end.
Elisa paused a moment to look down into the clear water of the
stream, then glanced at the relatively smooth walls of the
cavern, she could see how such a stream given enough time could
have carved out these tunnels.
As they descended deeper into the caverns Elisa noted with
surprise that the air seemed to be getting warmer instead of
cooler as she would have thought should happen. Finally they
entered a larger cavern partially flooded with water and picked
their way along a dry ledge to a small grotto where a fire
crackled merrily beside some bedrolls and a pile of crates and
barrels. A slight unpleasant odor pervaded the air of this
cavern, but Elisa could not identify the source.
“This room and the water there,” the Dunmer indicated the
submerged end of the cavern with a jerk of her head, “is warmed
by a lava flow, it smells and tastes slightly of sulfur but its
safe to bathe and even drink from,” Llathala commented and
started taking off her armor and piling it tidily beside one of
the bedrolls.
Elisa commented, “That explains the smell and the warmer
temperature.”
Llathala merely grunted in reply and then sighed in relief as
she removed her cuirass, taking in a deep breath and stretching.
“I wish I could find some daedric armor made for women, but I’ve
never seen a female daedra except for golden saints and
everything except for their weapon and shield disappears after
you kill them.” The Dunmer commented as she laid the chest piece
aside.
The Breton woman had not really noticed the armor before it had
been dark and difficult to see anything in the ash-laden wind.
Once they had arrived at the cave Llathala had disappeared
before she noticed much about the armor she was wearing except
that it was dark with red markings. Now she looked at the other
woman’s armor curiously. Even she had heard of the rare armor,
it was even rarer than armor made from ebony resin, and it was
said that each piece had the soul of a daedra trapped within it.
Looking closer at the strange twisted scarlet markings upon the
dark grey pieces, Elisa shivered. There was something about
those markings that made her believe that it was true.
“Here start washing up and I’ll join you in a moment. I’ll see
to your face after you’ve cleaned up,” Llathala commented.
Belatedly, tearing her eyes away from the armor, Elisa realized
that the dark skinned woman was holding out a rough piece of
cloth and a bar of grayish looking soap. She accepted them and
stared at the soap dubiously.
The Dunmer woman briefly smiled, “I wasn’t expecting to stay out
the night so I didn’t bring much with me. I had to raid the
bandit’s supplies for the soap and cloths. It’s not the best,
but it will do to get us clean.”
Embarrassed at her seeming ingratitude, Elisa murmured, “Thank
you,” as she took the soap.
The fire light was bright enough for Elisa to see the woman’s
features clearly for the first time and as Elisa looked into
Llathala’s face as she accepted the soap she realized how
attractive the Dunmer woman was, especially with the slight
smile currently playing around her dark, wine-colored lips. An
arched eyebrow eventually informed Elisa that she had been
staring at her rescuer for longer than was considered polite.
The Breton woman flushed, “I’ll go wash up now,” she said
hurriedly and turned away walking toward the water covered lower
end of the cavern.
Stopping by a handy boulder she stripped off her torn and
ash-soiled clothing laid it upon the stone and then tested the
water with one tentative foot. To her surprise, even though
Llathala had mentioned it was heated by a lava flow, the water
was pleasantly warm. She moved into deeper water and knelt,
sighing in enjoyment at the feel of warm water. Lathering up the
rough cloth, she began washing away the grimy ash that coated
her skin.
“Here, let me get your back.” Llathala’s voice behind her
startled Elisa, as she hadn’t heard or noticed the woman enter
the water. An outstretched dark skinned hand appeared in her
vision from over her shoulder. Hesitantly she surrendered the
cloth. Tense at first, Elisa gradually relaxed as the cloth
moved in soothing strokes over her back washing the last of the
grime from her body.
“Are you done with this?” the Dunmer woman asked as Elisa rinsed
her now clean back.
“What?” Elisa turned inquiringly toward Llathala’s voice, her
breath caught in her throat and the Breton woman had to struggle
not to stare at the dark skinned woman’s lithe, athletic body.
The small, but perfectly shaped, globes of her breasts, the
taunt muscled slimness of her waist, the way the water gently
lapped at the barest hit of a dark triangle at the apex of her
legs. Finally she noticed the cloth in the woman’s hand and
realized that Llathala was asking if she was done bathing.
“Oh, yes. Sorry. I guess you’ll want the soap," Elisa handed
over the brownish bar and turned away quickly, hoping that the
other woman hadn’t noticed her staring or noticed her body’s
reaction to what she had been staring at. Somehow though, she
suspected that if she glanced at the Dunmer woman she would see
that slight, amused smile once again, the one that would let her
know that her stare and arousal had been noticed just as it had
been noticed before over the fire.
‘What is wrong with me?’ Elias questioned herself despairingly,
wondering how she could react lustfully to anyone after what had
happened just hours ago. True, she had not loved Agna, but she
had been her friend, and seeing her father murder the woman
right in front of her had been a tremendous shock. Events had
happened so rapidly after Agna’s death that there had been no
time to even shed a tear for the other woman; she had gone from
the shock of her father’s action to being terrified for her own
life. Closing her eyes Elisa huddled deeper into the warm water
grateful for the darkness that hid her from the other woman. It
was difficult to think about Agna, she felt as if she wanted to
cry for the blonde woman, but concerns about her own future
whirled at a frenetic pace in her mind tearing and ripping at
the peace needed to properly mourn.
Where could she go to escape her father? She couldn’t go back to
her aunt and try to explain what had happened. Her aunt would
never believe that her beloved brother had killed someone, much
less believe that he had ordered his only child killed. The
woman would horrified that Elisa had been with another woman
intimately, and would insist that she immediately get married
and forget about such shameful things. How would she live? She
hadn’t any suitable skills with which to earn a wage, she had
been taught only what was needed to marry well and keep her
husband’s household.
The last thought brought Elisa’s mind back to her savior,
Llathala dressed and acted like a rich, powerful woman. The mere
fact that she wore a full suit of the rarest armor known instead
of keeping it displayed under lock and key indicated that she
was incredibly wealthy. If she had been a man, Elisa’s father
would probably have overlooked the fact she was a Dunmer, and
considered her a suitable match for his daughter.
The Breton listened to the quiet sounds of the other woman
washing behind her and thought about how the Dunmer woman’s
every move and comment revealed her surety, power, and
confidence in herself. Elisa envied her that. She had once been
as confident and secure in her life and the future, but that had
been before her father took her away from the Imperial City and
brought her to Vvardenfell. Since then her life had taken a
decided turn for the worse, and today what had remained of that
secure life had been completely shattered, leaving her with
nothing except the clothes on her back and an uncertain future.
Elisa desperately wanted to feel secure and confident once
again, she hated the overwhelming feelings of fear and
hopelessness that currently gripped her leaving her feeling weak
and helpless.
Elisa’s thoughts came around full circle as her mind brought up
the image of Llathala standing in front of her waiting patiently
for Elisa to hand her the soap and cloth. Just the memory of her
beauty made Elisa’s breath hitch and certain parts of her awaken
with desire. Why she was reacting this way to her rescuer?
The young woman, even though she frequently acted frivolous and
self-absorbed, had a very down to earth practical side, and that
now helped her admit that part of her interest in Llathala was
the purely practical hope that the woman would offer her a place
to stay if they became lovers. The other part of her
interest…well that part definitely had nothing to do with
anything practical at all. Something about the Dunmer woman
stirred Elisa, maybe it was the intensity in her red eyes and
the beauty of her face and figure, or maybe it was just shock
and her need for comfort, she didn’t quite know, all she knew
for certain was that she desired Llathala. Her blood pounded
through her veins at the thought of the Dunmer woman touching
her, holding her captive with the intensity of her eyes as she
thrust into Elisa, filling her completely.
Elisa took in a shaky breath, it wasn’t as if she hadn’t desired
a woman before, she certainly had, but the intensity with which
she wanted to touch and be touched by Llathala was unusual. She
wanted to slide her hands down the woman’s body, explore the
sleek muscularity of her. She wanted to find out what Llathala
tasted like, what she sounded and felt like as she climaxed, and
then she wanted the woman take her until she almost passed out
from the pleasure.
Unsettled and slightly overwhelmed by the admission, Elisa
forced herself to concentrate on more practical matters.
Llathala hadn’t mentioned anything past checking on her
injuries, so she didn’t know if the woman planned on providing
someplace for her to stay already or not. As for the possibility
of them becoming lovers, the woman had barely reacted to the
information that she liked women instead of men, and had not
reacted badly to Elisa’s staring. Didn’t that indicate
something?
‘Oh what am I thinking?’ Elisa questioned herself frantically,
‘I’m not seriously considering how to lure Llathala into
seducing me am I?’
“Lets see how your face looks now that it’s clean,” Llathala’s
voice interrupting her thoughts caused Elisa to start, and whirl
around guiltily, only to be blinded by the immediate area
suddenly lighting up. Reflexively she turned her head away and
covered her eyes. Llathala remarked after a second, her voice
apologetic, “I guess I should have warned you I was about to
cast an illuminate spell.”
“Oh, I didn’t know you were a mage,” Elisa remarked squinting
her eyes against the light. The mage light wasn’t that bright,
it was just the suddenness of it after her eyes had adjusted to
the darkness of the cavern. She felt more than saw Llathala move
closer to her right before the Dunmer woman placed her hands on
either side of her jaw and lifted her face toward the light.
“Close your eyes and let me examine your face,” Llathala
instructed her.
Elisa mutely obeyed, acutely aware of how close the other
woman’s nude body was to hers and the heat of the Dunmer woman’s
hands on her face. In other circumstances she might have
quarreled with Llathala’s right to order her around, but at the
moment her thoughts were completely occupied with her reaction
to the Dunmer woman’s touch, and with hoping Llathala wouldn’t
notice how fast her heart was suddenly pounding. In the next
instant she sucked in her breath in pain as Llathala prodded at
her bruised cheek. Elisa tried to jerk away, but the woman’s
hold on her face was more firm than she had guessed for she was
unable to escape the other woman’s grasp.
“I’m sorry it hurts, but I need to make sure the bones in your
face haven’t been damaged before healing the flesh,” Llathala
gently explained before Elisa could protest.
The angry words died unspoken on Elisa’s lips; suddenly she was
as concerned about her physical condition as the dark-skinned
woman’s physical closeness. “Oh,” she murmured, steeling herself
against the pain.
After a few more painful probing touches Llathala announced in a
relieved tone, “You’re lucky, there doesn’t appear to be any
damage to your cheekbones, just the flesh bruising and the cut.”
Her hands moved from Elisa’s jaw to cover the damaged areas and
the Breton woman felt the sensation of heat and tingling that
indicated Llathala was healing her injuries. Elisa stood
quietly, her face tilted upward, eyes still closed, enjoying the
feel of Llathala’s gentle hands upon her bruised face. The
healing sensation faded after a few seconds, and the persistent
pain that Elisa had become somewhat used to since her father had
struck her, faded with it.
“Thank you,” Elisa whispered as she opened her eyes and met the
red ones of the Dunmer woman. Llathala’s hands left her face,
and Elisa was surprised at how bereft she felt without them
there, how chilled her skin felt without their warmth. “A mage
and a healer, isn’t that somewhat unusual?” she asked curiously,
trying to distract herself.
“Yes,” Llathala replied, “Several years ago I found myself
severely wounded, so much so that I was unable to seek help
until I healed. For those three days I sorely rued the fact that
I had not learned more of the healing arts.” She gave Elisa a
twisted smile, “I since learned what I needed to know, even if
the learning was somewhat late to help me.” The odd smile faded
and Llathala continued speaking in a lighter tone, “I’ve become
rather a talented healer, if I may say so myself, as well as
picking up some useful skills as an illusionist.”
Llathala fell silent, and an intent expression appeared upon her
face as she looked down at the shorter woman, making no effort
to hide the fact that she was staring appreciatively at Elisa’s
body. In a husky voice Llathala commented, “You’re a very
beautiful woman Elisa Jurard.”
Elisa’s breath caught in her throat at the comment, and the look
in the Dunmer woman’s red eyes. She felt the tell tale tingling
in her nipples and knew that they had just hardened in reaction.
She wasn’t surprised to see Llathala’s red eyes drift downward
and remained there for a moment before returning to meet her
own, the woman was too observant.
The Dunmer woman leaned toward her slowly. Elisa did not protest
or make an effort to move away, and when their lips met, she
leaned into the kiss. Lips moved against one another, tongues
met and dueled. When Llathala wrapped her arms around Elisa back
and waist and pulled the Breton woman’s softer form tightly
against her more muscular, toned body Elisa gave a soft moan of
appreciation.
Long moments later, Llathala pulled back long enough to murmur,
“Bedrolls.”
“Yes,” Elisa whispered her agreement, many more kisses and
touches like the ones they had just exchanged and her legs
wouldn’t want to support her anyway. She made a noise of
surprise and indignation as Llathala picked her up in her arms,
but the Dunmer woman ignored it and the protest Elisa intended
to make was forgotten as Llathala began kissing her once again.
The next thing, besides the lips covering her own, that Elisa
was fully cognizant of was being laid down upon one of the
bedrolls and the press of Llathala’s body on top of her own.
Llathala’s bare thigh fell between Elisa’s own and pressed into
her gently, causing the Breton to shudder and arch needfully
against it, coating it unmistakably with the sign of her
arousal. The dark skinned woman made a sound in between a moan
and a growl and pressed against her more urgently in response.
Elisa moaned in frustration, she wanted Llathala to continue,
but she also wanted to touch the other woman. She appreciated
being with a woman, she liked being inside them when they came,
liked feeling and hearing them. She needed, wanted, to show
Llathala that she was a desirable lover, give the woman a reason
to invite her to live with her. Determinedly she pushed against
Llathala’s shoulders until the Dunmer woman pulled away from her
lips with a confused look. “I want to touch you, taste you,”
Elisa said in a voice so husky and thick with desire that it
surprised even herself.
Llathala’s eyes widened for a moment upon hearing those words,
then with a quick roll Elisa found herself on top of the Dunmer
woman. “I’m certainly not going to object,” she replied.
Llathala’s eyes, which Elisa had already noted seemed unusually
intense and compelling, were darker, the pupils dilated. They
drew in the Breton woman, capturing and binding her with their
intensity. Just as suddenly she came back to herself, her heart
pounding, feeling weak, almost frightened. What had just
happened, she asked herself.
“Elisa?” Llathala inquired.
“Nothing, sorry,” Elisa mentally shook herself, throwing off the
odd moment, reminding herself that she was supposed to be
impressing the Dunmer woman, giving her a reason to ask Elisa to
move into her home. Not giving the woman cause to believe she
was prone to odd fits. Leaning down the younger woman covered
Llathala’s wine dark lips with her own and gave herself over to
the moment, willing herself to loose herself in the feel of the
other woman’s body.
Lips opening beneath her own, the feel and taste of the Dunmer’s
skin as she drug her teeth down the arch of a neck, the feel of
the other woman’s hard small nipple in her mouth as she flicked
it rapidly with her tongue. Llathala’s body writhing beneath her
as she slowly crossed the toned expanse of her stomach, then her
first taste of the other woman. Oddly different from any other
woman she had ever tasted, Elisa noted, but not unpleasant.
Probably just a racial difference, the Breton woman decided, in
a quick moment before she slipped her fingers inside Llathala,
feeling rewarded by obvious evidence of her arousal.
Llathala groaned and arched against her, thrusting herself
against Elisa’s mouth in demanding need. The Breton was pleased
to comply, speeding up the thrusting of her fingers, suckling
and flicking her tongue rapidly against the woman’s clitoris. A
short while later Elisa closed her eyes in pleasure as she felt
Llathala stiffen and cry out as she bucked against her mouth in
release, her fingers gripped tightly by the smooth slick walls
surrounding them.
Elisa was still placing soft kisses upon dark wine colored
tender flesh when Llathala sat up and gripped her shoulders,
pulled her upward and then rather abruptly reversed their
positions so the Dunmer woman was on top. The Breton woman
gasped in surprise at the sudden repositioning, and then her
mouth was covered by Llathala’s in a possessive, demanding kiss.
Minutes later, when Llathala released her lips, Elisa scarcely
had time to catch her breath before the Dunmer woman attacked
her breasts with the same passionate intensity. Lips, teeth and
tongue alternately nipped, raked and soothed the tender skin and
nipples. As she groaned in reaction to the sensations Llathala
was eliciting, Elisa wondered if something in the water had made
her flesh ultra sensitive for Llathala’s mouth and tongue seemed
almost like brands upon her flesh, trailing heat and white-hot
arousal wherever they went.
As the Dunmer woman left her breasts and trailed her mouth and
tongue across her stomach Elisa could not help but moan in
anticipation of Llathala’s mouth upon her, if she was as
sensitive down there as her breasts had been... At the first
touch of Llathala’s mouth, she cried out and arched into the
touch, her hands reaching and gripping the edges of the bedroll
for something to hold onto. It was everything and more than she
had anticipated, again the unusual sensitivity making every
stroke of the woman’s tongue against her flesh intensely
pleasurable.
“No,” Elisa protested when the Dunmer woman abruptly stopped and
levered her body back above the Breton’s.
Llathala smiled, “Don’t worry I’m not stopping,” she reassured
Elisa as she replaced her mouth with her hand, smoothly
thrusting into the woman beneath her with two and then three
fingers and beginning a light circular motion with her thumb
over the younger woman’s clitoris. “See.”
“Yes,” hissed Elisa, arching into the thrusting fingers, driving
them deeper inside her.
Llathala’s nostrils flared on a deeply indrawn breath as she
stared down at the aroused woman beneath her, “You are so
beautiful, and so passionate. I think I’ll have to keep you,”
she whispered.
“Good,” Elisa managed in between gasping breaths, she felt a
moment of relief at the securing of her immediate future, but it
was less important to her at this particular moment than the
sensations Llathala was building inside her with every thrust of
her fingers and stroke of her thumb.
Llathala stared into Elisa’s dark eyes intently as she touched
her as if searching for something there, then apparently seeing
what she had been seeking she lowered her head and began kissing
and nibbling at her neck. The Breton woman turned her head to
bare the side of her neck for the other woman to have greater
access; enjoying the sensation of lips and teeth against the
sensitive skin of her neck.
A sudden intense pain from where Llathala’s mouth was upon her
neck took Elisa by surprise, and instinctively she tried to pull
away, only to find that she could not, Llathala restrained her
easily, pressing her into the bedroll beneath her and holding
her tightly. As suddenly as it had flared the pain faded and was
replaced by a much different sensation. Elisa whimpered, and as
desperately as she had been trying to get away, now she strived
to get closer, as another erogenous zone seemed to have
blossomed at her neck where Llathala’s mouth pressed against it.
The Dunmer woman’s fingers, which had stilled while Elisa fought
against Llathala’s hold, now began moving once again thrusting
and twisting into her while the woman’s thumb resumed its
circular motion around and over her clitoris. The two
sensations, the one at her neck and the one between her legs,
merged and built upon one another until Elisa was writhing in
helpless need beneath the other woman. Her orgasm when it came
overwhelmed her, slamming into her consciousness and body like
storm driven surf. Elisa cried out wordlessly as she arched and
bucked underneath Llathala as the climaxes seized and shook her
one after another only releasing her when she felt the world
fade away as she slipped toward unconsciousness.
She never quite lost consciousness, but she was unable to move
for long moments afterward, exhausted and shaken by the
intensity of her reaction. She was aware of Llathala removing
her mouth from her neck and the feel of the woman’s tongue
flicking against her skin a few times. Then the woman gently
withdrew her fingers from inside Elisa, wrapped both arms around
the tired Breton and cradled her against her.
It took Elisa several minutes to gather up her scattered wits
and wonder what had just happened. What had Llathala done to her
that hurt so, then why after that moment of pain had it felt so
very good? Uneasily she opened her eyes and raised them to meet
Llathala’s. Dunmer woman looked relaxed, sated, but her eyes
were intent as she watched Elisa. The two of them stared at one
another, Llathala looking increasingly amused as the silence
went on.
“So have you come to a conclusion as to what just happened?” the
Dunmer woman finally asked in a lazy tone.
Elisa’s eyes widened, and she frowned slightly in confusion.
When Llathala spoke she could have swore she saw... She
swallowed, suddenly the pain she had felt when the Dunmer woman
had held her so tightly with her mouth at her throat made only
too much sense. “But...” she blurted out in confusion.
“I use illusions to hide them,” Llathala responded, and now
Elisa could see the long white eyeteeth only too clearly.
In numb disbelief, Elisa suddenly remembered what the Dunmer had
told her earlier. Stricken with a disease for three days, so
hurt that she couldn’t seek the help she needed, and the healing
knowledge she gained later unable to help her with the disease
she had caught. If she had been thinking more clearly earlier
she would have realized that Llathala was telling her she was a
vampire, it was common knowledge that the vampire disease took
three days to fully take hold of a person and change them.
Hysterical giggles fought to escape as Elisa realized her father
had sort of succeeded in his plan after all; a wandering vampire
had indeed found her and bitten her. The vampire just hadn’t
torn out her throat--yet--she shivered in sudden fear.
“Worried that I’m going to tear out your throat?” Llathala
asked.
Elisa froze, dismayed that her thoughts had been so obvious.
“Don’t be,” the Dunmer responded. Her red eyes wandered
possessively over the Breton woman’s nude body lying along side
her own then returned to Elisa’s, “I did say earlier that I
planned on keeping you. I’ve got much more entertaining and
satisfying things to do with your lovely and so very responsive
body. You needn’t fear that I will hurt you or take too much of
your blood.” Llathala noticed the renewed look of fear in young
Breton woman’s dark eyes, “It won’t hurt as much next time, and
each time I bite you it will hurt less and less until it doesn’t
hurt at all,” she reassured her.
Elisa closed her eyes and fought against the thread of arousal
that those words evoked, trying to focus on the reality of what
Llathala had been doing to her. The woman had driven her teeth
into her throat and been feeding off her blood.
The dark skinned woman shifted suddenly, pinning Elisa’s body
beneath hers. Elisa squeaked in startled surprise then moaned in
helpless arousal as the Dunmer woman ran her tongue over the
place on Elisa’s neck where she had bitten her. She breathed on
the spot, sending another surge of arousal though the Breton
woman. Llathala whispered, “Trying to persuade yourself that you
don’t want me to bite you again, that you don’t want my mouth on
your breasts, between your legs. How I enjoyed tasting you,
thrusting my tongue inside you, exploring your soft tender
flesh, filling you and feeling you come around my fingers.”
The words sent fresh surges of arousal through Elisa and she
couldn’t stop the tiny whimper that escaped.
Llathala breathed in deeply, “I can smell your response, Elisa.”
Elisa bit her lip hard, trying desperately to stop responding to
the vampire’s words, to drive from her mind the memories of just
how wonderful Llathala’s mouth had felt when she had tasted her
earlier.
Llathala chuckled, “Such resistance, but your smell is getting
stronger Elisa, your body isn’t agreeing with you.” The dark
skinned woman continued after a second, “I think after you
recover some more I’ll be kind and satisfy you. And this time I
won’t leave you until I feel you come against my mouth,” by the
time she finished these the woman’s lips were just brushing
against Elisa’s ear.
The younger woman couldn’t prevent the groan that escaped, or
the reflexive bucking of her hips in response to Llathala’s
words.
The dark skinned woman pulled away slightly and her red intense
eyes captured the Breton’s dark ones. “Surrender to me Elisa
Jurard, and I will make you mine, and I am very possessive and
protective of what is mine.” The dark wine-colored lips covered
hers, demanded entrance, and with a tiny whimper of surrender
Elisa let her.
Later, as Elisa crawled her way back from the edge of
unconsciousness for the second time in Llathala’s arms, she felt
a light touch on her cheek where it had been bruised earlier.
“I’ll have to pay your father a visit sometime,” Llathala
commented, “and thank him for sending me such a thoughtful
gift.”
|
|
