tagIllustratedSkyrim and the Journey of Cerise Ch. 01

Skyrim and the Journey of Cerise Ch. 01

byDocCIS©

Chapter 01 - Helgen

Author's note: The idea of this story came to me with the release of Bethesda's Skyrim game (PC). As sexier armor mods came out, the story came to me as I played my main character. Now with the Creation Kit released and the game changing dramatically with various mods, I decided to roll a new game, playing out the story as I wrote it.

All the names, encounters, and storyline—besides the sex scenes obviously—are written in conjunction to playing the game. "Skyrim" and "The Elder Scrolls" and its characters are the property of Bethesda Game Studios. This story is for entertainment purposes only and no money exchanged hands. No copyright infringement is intended. The original characters, situations, and story are the property of the Bethesda and the various mod authors for additional content in the game.

Upon request I can give a list of suggested mods if you play the game and are curious on how I have changed the game to go with the story; however, realize this story does follow the game, so is an obvious SPOILER if you have not progressed fully into it.

Obvious liberties have been made for the story to be more erotica than a fantasy. I hope you enjoy, as this is a departure from my normal stories and the difference is a nice change of pace! It is not as carnal as my other stories, but again, is a nice change of pace...

********************

I am a priestess and daughter of Dibella, in both a spiritual and physical sense. To the cultured, Dibella is the goddess of love and beauty, to the more seedy denizens of the world, the goddess of erotic arts and sex. She is the patron saint of women, although some merely believe her overseeing whores and harlots. She is the embodiment of all that is female and none should forget for they shall instill her wrath. None have known her vehemence more than I, which is the product of this tale.



Dibella is all I have described and more. To me she is both my goddess and mother, again both in the spiritual and physical sense, but I get ahead of myself.

This is a tale of truth in so much as I recite the occurrences and actions of those around me as they pertain to me. I ask of you to believe, for how could such a story be less than the truth? No mind could envision such a saga. Even in the throes of madness would the tale I am about to embark upon you not occur, for nobody could imagine such an account from the darkest recesses of their mind. Not even the Daedric Lords—aware of my true identity—could invent a story as outlandish as the truth.

You will find both the epitome of degradation from many of the humanoid species, as well as their nobility and kindness. I tell the story as it is, no embellishments or fanciful ideas of how I came to my own self-awareness after all had been taken from me but my body, my name, and the few inherited powers of my mother.

The world moves at the whim of the gods and goddesses, and we are but the pawns in their schemes. I now tell how I was the most minor and most significant of chess pieces, and why one should never attempt to gain the notice of the Divines...

********************

The first sensation I became aware of as consciousness came back to me was an inability to breathe. I panicked, thinking I was drowning until I comprehended something was in my mouth. My tongue was pressed to the bottom of my oral cavity and as I tried to talk, my ears filling with a "Grlgack" sound as an object rested at the entrance of my throat preventing me to breath. Becoming more awake, I realized the object in my mouth was moving back and forth at a fast pace, saliva pooling in my mouth and lubricating the object as it repeatedly embedded itself into my throat.

My eyes still closed, I became aware of another sensation, that of intense throbbing. The pain was extremely localized on my chest, and as I became further aware of my surroundings I realized the sensation was actually intense pleasure, my nipples being squeezed brutally causing my body to become hot with desire.

The next sensation I comprehended was extreme pleasure filling me repeatedly. As my mind cleared I understood it coming from my womanhood, feeling another object which, like that in my mouth, repetitively slid in and out of my person.

The sounds of creaking—a wagon of some sort I realized—surrounded me, as did the sounds of horses moving at a slow pace. All of those were muffled by the sounds of my body, the loud "Gackth...ackd...gackth" noises from my mouth and a continuous slapping and squishing sound coming from further down.

Awareness came to me slowly, preceded by an intense feeling of lust as I moaned deeply.

"She's coming to," I heard above me.

"Should we stop?" another voice came to the side of me.

"Fuck that, if this is my last piece of ass before I stand in the halls of my ancestors, I'm going to empty my sack completely," I heard above me, the voice rising and falling in rhythm to the thrusting in and out of my pussy.

I moaned again as a wave of pleasure from my lust overcame my body.

"Shit, her mouth is moving now...oh fuck, I'm cummmming!" I heard clearly.

Suddenly my mouth was flooded with a warm fluid, and I instinctively began swallowing. My throat was parched, so the warm syrup-like fluid wetted it and I moaned in relief, like finding water after days in the desert.

I sucked harder, wanting more of the life-giving fluid as I felt my body come alive as the liquid entered my stomach, rejuvenating me.

"Oh yeah bitch, suck that cock," I heard above me. "By the gods, this slut can suck cock better than any wench I've had, whether she's awake or unconscious," I heard, a feeling of pride filling me oddly.

The warm member in my mouth began deflating as I felt it slipping from my lips. I let out a quiet moan of loss, sounding like a mewling cat as I once again could breathe through my mouth, the obstruction nw gone.

"Oh gods, her cunt is getting even tighter, I can't hold out!" I heard above me.

Again a feeling of rejuvenation hit me as I felt my abdomen warm itself from the inside out, a heavy weight falling upon me forcing my legs to spread further apart, my breasts smashed against me. I smelled garlic and onions as somebody panted next to my face, understanding somebody was lying on me. Yet my whole being was focused on the pulsing cock in my pussy as my muscles instinctively milked it dry.

Eventually, as with the member previously in my mouth, I felt it slowly deflate and slide out of my pussy. I tried to clench my muscles as I was taught by...by whom I wondered. Somebody had taught me something, but the thought escaped me as I felt the weight upon me shift as a man rolled off me.

I began to feel alive again, the cum in my pussy and stomach awakening my body as I opened my eyes, immediately blinded by the sun shining through the trees.

I felt the world rocking until I realized the sounds of the wagon were in time to the motion, as a hawk cried overhead. Soon I was able to make sense of my surroundings as I looked around me.

I was lying on my back in a bed of straw, the blades of dried grass digging into my bare back and ass. My hair also had blades of straw tangled in it and I felt similar blades embedded between my ass cheeks. Absently I wondered how I was going to pull those out without looking like...again my thoughts left me as if a cloud of fog rolled over a bay.

I was basically naked, wearing only a short skirt made of burlap currently bunched up around my waist as if it were a belt. I also had on a pair of sandals, a thin cord of leather crisscrossing up my calves to hold them on. Other than that, I was unclothed, my breasts displayed before the men sitting around me.

Looking down, I saw my aforementioned breasts reddened, the imprints of fingers and hands still visible.

There were benches were on both sides of the wagon, which seated six men, three who looked at me with lecherous grins. The men were wearing dark blue quilted uniforms, a belted leather strap across their chests holding empty sheaths for weapons. They also wore cotton breeches tied around their waste with a cord, and leather boots. They were all dressed similarly as I concluded them to be some sort of military unit.

And from the looks and feeling of my body, they had just had their way with me.

My mind was still groggy, but the feeling of satisfaction coming from me was too good to accuse them of rape. I knew not how I got here, or how things had transpired, but something deep within me had welcomed the sexual assault, as if I needed it to once again feel alive.

Looking beyond the wagon I saw mountains covered in snow, pine trees scattered throughout the landscape. The world was waving back and forth, the steady motion of the wagon on the unkempt road causing my vision to move around like a ship on stormy seas as I again focused to the occupants of the wagon.

One of the men began speaking behind me and I looked over my shoulder at him. He had rugged features, having led a hard life, a scar of battle across his right cheek. His blonde hair was shaggy, in the typical long style of the Nords freely falling from his shoulders instead of in a ponytail many of the Bretons favored.

I tried to sit up, realizing my hands were bound by leather straps. Looking around, all the men were similarly trussed, and I wondered how desperate they must have been to fuck me and still be bound to make it manageable.

The Nord behind me spoke again as I now made out his words, his language coming slowly to me as if I had not heard it for a long time and forgotten it, only to be reminded many years later. Again a fog rolled through my mind as I tried to grasp onto the thought before it escaped me. How long had it been since I had heard the Nord language?

"Hey you! You're finally awake," he said, his blue eyes piercing my soul as I looked up at him while lying in the middle of the wagon.

I could imagine the sight of me, naked except for a skirt bunched around my waist, my breasts bare before him and my legs spread wide. I could feel the warm liquid of whichever man had used me—or maybe more than one—oozing from my slit into the straw as I looked at him again, trying to comprehend his words.

"You were trying to cross the border, right? Walked right into that Imperial ambush; same as us, and that thief over there!" he said.

I looked to where he was looking and saw another man, squirrely in appearance in bedraggled homespun clothes.

He was hunkered in the corner, as if in pure misery as he spoke. "Damn you Stormcloaks. Skyrim was fine until you came along!" he spat. "The Empire was nice and lazy. If they hadn't been looking for you I could have stolen that horse and been halfway to Hammerfell by now," he hissed at the blonde before looking at me. "You there," he said, "you and me shouldn't be here. It's these Stormcloaks the Empire wants," he said.

"We're all brothers and sisters in binds now thief," the blonde-haired man said.

"Shut up back there," the driver of the wagon stated as I noticed him for the first time. He was wearing a leather cap and cuirass, another military style I realized, but different from those with me in the wagon.



"What's wrong with him, hunh?" the 'thief' said ignoring the wagon driver as he nodded his head to the other corner of the wagon.

I saw a large man sitting across from him on the bench, his hands bound like the rest of us, also wearing a cloth gag. The edges of his mouth were purpled from the loss of blood the tight gag caused, yet the man remained calm, simply looking at everybody in the wagon as another man spoke.



"Watch your tongue," the other man said. "You are speaking to Ulfric Stormcloak, the true High King."

"Ulfric?" the 'thief' gasped. "The Jarl of Windhelm? You're the leader of the rebellion!" he stated.

I barely registered the exchange. The heat and passion of the use of my body diminishing as I now felt the cold wind of the northern air against my exposed skin. My nipples hardened in response as I pulled my legs together, the cooling liquid between them uncomfortable being exposed to the outside chill.

"If they captured you..." the unnamed thief gasped again drawing my attention. "Oh gods, where are they taking us?" he said plaintively.

The blonde-headed warrior said glumly, "I don't know where we're going," he admitted, "but Sovngarde awaits," he said ominously.

I almost laughed, knowing one's soul... What was I thinking about I wondered, again as if a fog rolled through my head sifting my memories. I was about to remember something, but the thought was as fleeting as trying to catch a dragonfly.

"No," the thief cried, "this can't be happening. This isn't happening!" he exclaimed as panic filled him.

The blonde man looked at him in sympathy, "Hey," he said, his tone of voice the type used for calming horses spooked into doing something dangerous. "What town do you hail from horse thief?" he asked.

"Why do you care?" the thief spat.

"Because a Nord's last thoughts should be of home," the blonde warrior said quietly.

"Rorickstead," the thief said at last. "I'm...I'm from Rorickstead," he said quietly as if to himself.

Shouts from outside the wagon caught our attention, as I saw us nearing the gates of a small village, the stone walls revealing a small keep with cylindrical parapets in the center. It was one of the gate guards who had yelled out.

"General Tullius sir," he said to somebody ahead of our wagon, "the headsman is waiting."

"Good," sounded a voice in front of us, "let's get this over with."

His words were an ominous greeting as we passed through the gates of the town; the only sounds being the wagon, horses, and wind as our small convoy made its way through the streets.

"Sheor, Mara, Dibella, Kynareth, Akatosh..." the thief started praying.

At the mention of Dibella, I felt a reverberation go through my body, as if a loud gong had rang, the vibrations flowing through me. The name had such resonance I knew suddenly my name, as the thief continued.

"...Divines, please help me," the thief pleaded to the sky.

The only answer was the wind as I continued trying to remember. Dibella, that was why even unconscious I was able to pleasure the men. It was trained into me from...well, I could not remember when or how, but I recognized a part of who I was as the wagons slowly came to a stop.

"Look at him," the blonde warrior said with contempt, "General Tullius, the military governor...and it looks like the Thalmor are with him!" he exclaimed. "Damn elves," he spat, "I bet THEY have something to do with this," he said.

As he looked around, his face lit with recognition. "This is Helgen," he said. "I used to be sweet on a girl from here," he said whimsically. "I wonder if Ylmord is still making that mead with juniper berries," he reminisced, his thoughts chaotic as he tried to reason with his fate.

Some turn to religion, others their past, I thought as the blonde man continued his speech.

"Funny, as a boy, Imperial towers and walls used to make me feel safe," he chuckled morosely.

"Inside the house," a voice called from outside the wagon, drawing our attention.

I scooted up, the straw working its way further into my ass crack as I peered over the side of the wagon seeing a man and boy standing beside the wagon as we passed.

"Why?" the boy was protesting, "I want to see the soldiers," he said; however, the father forced him back into one of the wooden houses lining the street.

"Death to the Stormcloaks," somebody shouted as the guards opened the back of the wagon.

The guards stared at me lecherously as I sat in front of them in the wagon, my chest bare and my legs parted. Warmth flushed through my body at their stares.

At a time like this, I was getting aroused, what the hell was wrong with me I wondered. Yet I knew it to be true, my hardened nipples due not so much from the cold, but the open stares of the Imperial guards.

"Why have we stopped?" the thief asked the guards.

The blonde warrior answered, "Why do you think? It's the end of the line," he said ominously. "Let's go, we shouldn't keep the gods waiting," he stated as he climbed out of the wagon.



The thief and others followed, and once I could sit up and scoot to the edge, I did as well. As I stood, the burlap skirt fell down around my hips, once again covering my ass and crotch providing some modesty; however, I was still bare chested, a fact the surrounding guards' stares were not letting me forget.

"No! Wait!" the thief cried. "We're not rebels!" he pleaded as he started crying.

I felt a mixture of remorse and distaste at his weakness as the blonde warrior admonished him, "Face your Fate with some courage thief!"

The thief continued yelling out, "You got the wrong person. Tell them," he pleaded to the blonde warrior, "we weren't with you!" he said, as if it made any difference to the guards as he sank to his knees pleading.

"Step to the front as your name is called!" a female voice sounded.

Looking through the group I saw a female in a mixture of studded leather armor and plate, a plate helm on her head. She wore a skirt of hammered plates of steel while her greaves reached up to mid-calve, the skin of her legs, arms, and face bared and tanned. There was a strong beauty about her I thought as I felt myself yearning to touch her skin to see if it was as soft as it looked.



"Lists," the blonde warrior mumbled next to me, "the empire just loves their damned lists."

Meanwhile the thief was still crying, mumbling incoherently, though he slowly stood up.

"Ulfric Stormcloak, Jarl of Windhelm," a male guard announced.

At the mention of his name, the large gagged figure moved out of line towards what I now noticed was a dais, a hooded headsman standing next to a block of wood. The headsman wore only leather breeches besides his hood, holding a large two-handed axe easily with one hand.

"It has been an honor, Jarl Ulfric," the blonde warrior stated as the man moved to stand before the headsman.

"Ralof of Riverwood," the guard intoned.

The blonde man moved forward at the sound of his name as I watched him too join the Jarl of Windhelm at the dais.

"Lokir of Rorickstead," the guard said.

Suddenly the thief cried out, "No, I'm not a rebel! You can't do this!" he exclaimed in panic.

Then in a rush he broke from the group, running down the road while the guards shouted "Halt!"

I moved forward to stop him, but with my hands bound, by the time I got to the front of the line he was already several yards ahead of me.



"Archers!" the female commander shouted.

Immediately the air sounded with the 'twang' of bows as the thief crumpled to the ground, six arrows sticking out of his body as if appearing by magic. Blood slowly pooled around his body as he lay dead in the road, the guards merely walking around him like he was offal from the horses.


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