Tales of Tamriel: In Chains (Midori Sadi & SheerFantasia)
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		<h2 id="linktree">Play-By-Post: Bondage, D/s, S&amp;M =&gt; Bondage: Exotic Solos =&gt; Topic started by: SheerFantasia on 25-08-2014, 11:22:40</h2>
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				Title: <strong>Tales of Tamriel: In Chains (Midori Sadi &amp; SheerFantasia)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>SheerFantasia</strong> on <strong>25-08-2014, 11:22:40</strong>
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				<div class="floatright">(http://fc06.deviantart.net/fs71/i/2010/151/a/6/Gate_to_the_Light_by_Nurkhular.jpg)</div><em>In the aftermath of Skyrim’s crisis, the civil war that ensued saw that this ancient province attained its freedom.&nbsp; The war proved especially costly to the Imperials who saw their power greatly depleted and their grip on Tamriel weakened precipitously, whilst Skyrim entered a period of anarchy until a new High King was crowned, vested with the authority and power of the dragonborn, though this only succeeded in lessening the anarchy into a state of controlled lawlessness.<br><br>These events had far reaching consequences however, and Tamriel took a step back to the darker times of the first age.&nbsp; Numerous cities claimed the independence of a city-state, whilst new warlords rose in the power vacuum to challenge the weakened Imperials, even as darker powers rose from their torpor sensing the uncertainty of the times leading to a renaissance of daedric cults.<br><br>Slavery arose anew, where it had formerly been found only in Morrowind; as capable men and women were recruited for armies, industry fell to the wayside and required vitalisation, which was found in the form of slaves.</em><hr><br>The sun had begun to throw its light against the pale blue morning sky, yet despite the breaking of the dawn, a deeper chill than a simple morning cold pervaded the air.&nbsp; In the distance, the white-capped peaks of an immense mountain range provided a clue to this riddle.&nbsp; Cold or not, however, the township of Elinhir began to bustle to life with the morning light.&nbsp; Its citizens went about their lives as they had always been want to do, living, laughing, loving, and squabbling as they had for generations.&nbsp; However, the undercurrent of uncertainty was new, as were the grim-faced patrols who swept the streets incessantly.<br><br>One such patrol swept by a low ramshackle building, in front of which was a raised platform that was in better condition and decor than the building itself.&nbsp; &nbsp; This was unsurprising for it was the local slave block and auction, and even now, a small gathering had already formed before the platform.&nbsp; Conversation was all business interspersed with some salacious speculations as to a new acquisition by the slave master.<br><br>Inside, that very slave master cracked open some slats, observing the general trend without and was otherwise pleased with what he observed.&nbsp; A stout, hairy imperial of average height and swarthy complexion, he was nonetheless powerfully built and whip at his side was worn from use.&nbsp; Ordering his hands to prepare the stage, he went to the back of the building where two stolid Redguard handlers stood flanking a solid wooden door.&nbsp; Acknowledging their presence with the barest of grunts, the slave master produced a key from his belt and opened the door with it.<br><br>Inside, lining the walls and benches, was a large group of men and women all chained together, and those chains set in iron hoops in the walls and in the floor.&nbsp; Some twenty individuals all told, there was little favour in the gaze the slave master bent on them, finding them to be a sorry lot, with one exception, and to <em>that</em> exception he now turned an approving eye toward.&nbsp; Were circumstances different, he would have been pleased to keep this particular piece of merchandise to himself, but he could ill-afford the price the sellers had asked him to procure; so he retrieved the bull-hide whip and cracked it loudly.<br><br>“To your feet wench, it’s time you made your way to the block,” he growled as he stood over her.&nbsp; He was ill-pleased to see that the woman yet had scraps of clothing; he stepped forward and ruthlessly tore them away, the better to display her charms to the public and entice buyers to be generous with their coin – her vendor had demanded one thousand septims for her and it would require all his skill to coax that exorbitant amount from the crowd.&nbsp; “No tricks today my pretty flower, or I’ll stripe you within an inch of your miserable life in front of the crowd.”&nbsp; Rebellious slaves were always bad for business.<br><br>Having so warned her, he jerked at the black chains which bound the cold metal shackles on her wrists and ankles to the iron collar on her neck.&nbsp; The two Redguard offered no sympathy in their myopic eyes as she was pulled by, having long grown cold to this brutal and sordid line of work; even the sight of their people being pulled in chains by an Imperial roused no appreciable sentiment.&nbsp; The door to the block was thrust open, and before the roaring crowd, the master of slaves ushered his best sale.<br><br>Two decades ago, a sight such as this would have been unconscionable, but the times were changed as Tamriel had slid just that much closer barbarism.&nbsp; The rush of cold air greeted them as they came onto the block, where the crowd had gathered around the stage and was growing by the moment.&nbsp; There were Imperials from Cyrodill, Redguard nomads of the Alik’r, Bretons, Orsimer, Dunmer, even a small contingent of Nords in the rear watched the spectacle.<br><br>The slave master clapped and heaved, exhorting the audience to greater efforts as they shouted and whistled, leering and jeering as they watched the naked woman in chains brought forth.&nbsp; The majority were men – some for business and others simply to watch the spectacle with perverse delight – yet there were even some women who came to belittle, taking out the frustration of their mean lives on the only type of person who was socially below them.
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				Title: <strong>Re: Tales of Tamriel: In Chains (Midori Sadi &amp; SheerFantasia)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Divine Tenacity</strong> on <strong>25-08-2014, 23:23:57</strong>
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				<div class="floatright">(https://encrypted-tbn2.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcQRpfWc0KwidF7JhYvEQWd4kNNkNGZADsrPz_y2t1sxlLRmZ2lITQ)</div> She was already cranky and more than a little pissed by the time market opened. Last night Anora died, raped until she breathed no more by men she was disgusted to call bloodkin. Though they shared the same blood than ran through her veins, breathed the same dry air of the Alik'r Desert-- they were no kin of hers. Among their duties as watch dogs, the pair of men were content to watch her body and its every little nuance. She was able to ignore them most days, but today held an urgency, a poignancy to it. They were desperate, nearly panting to touch her.<br><br>She would not allow that to happen. She would see them both dead long before their cocks sprung free from their breeches. <br><br>Once upon a time, she was a Queen. She was the heir apparent to the throne of Hammerfell. She decided whether men like these pigs lived or die with a simple gesture. She rode at the forefront of every battle with Entropy held fast in her hand. She reveled in the lives of those who fell before her, smiled in glee as her mare trampled severed limbs and skulls to dust. Now...<br><br>Now, she stood naked on a slave block, covering herself as much as her hands would allow. She cursed the Nines once again for gracing her with such a figure. Ever since her capture and enslavement, she had been used by many men between Sentinel and Elinhir. though they demanded her obedience, they never received it. Some died by her hands alone. Some had beaten her to the brink of death after foiled attempts. Some beat her just for the hell of it, or while they took her rough and with minimal preparation. <br><br>It was that last bit that pulled her hands away from her breasts, letting each ample mound bounce free as she clasped her hands behind her back. She slid her eyes closed. As long as she could not see them, she didn't have to worry about them looking at <em>her.</em> It was easier to remember who she was behind closed eyelids, who she will always be. Though she was used and abused many times over, she would not let the various men and women she encountered break her. They held no power over her regardless of money exchanging hands and contracts being signed. She was a slave, but she was also a queen.<br><br>Zeila clenched her hands tighter behind her back, reassuring her chilly body that everything was alright, as long as she did not lose herself. <br><br><div class="floatright"><div class="spoiler_container"><div onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button" class="spoiler_header">Zeila Iman Mede</div><div class="spoiler_body"><div class="floatleft">(http://i303.photobucket.com/albums/nn134/Crimson_Alchemist71/Arrancars/Bleach-Halibel.png)</div><strong>Name: </strong> <br>Zeila Iman Mede<br><strong>Title:</strong> <br>Queen of Hammerfell (current/former?); Slave<br><strong>Race:</strong> <br>Redguard<br><strong>Racial Abilities:</strong><br>Adrenaline Rush; Resist Poison<br><strong>Gender:</strong><br>Female<br><strong>Standing Stone:</strong><br>The Warrior Stone; The Lady Stone (later through plot)<br><strong>Skills/Perks:</strong><br>Master Smithing<br>Master Enchanting<br>Expert Two-Handed<br>Expert Archer<br>Adept Light Armor<br>Novice Restoration<br>(Smithing- Master and Enchanting-Master for last two as plot items? Queen is an expert Smith? Also when it comes to battle, maybe there is an enchanted item that binds her until she is needed? I figure your character might have hold of her possessions as a plot point for later, but he doesn't give them to her until she 'proves' herself? I figure this would then be a good time for really perverted shenanigans&nbsp; :P)<br><strong>Other Perks: </strong><br>Blessing of Julianos<br><strong>Armor/Clothing Appearance: </strong><br>Rags and footwraps, various costumes, or nothing-- depends on her current Master's whims. When allowed to don armor, she dons the last suit of armor she ever forged-- a custom made Glass set with various enchantments.<br><strong>Weapons:</strong> <br>Entropy: Glass Greatsword (Legendary), Leech: Glass Bow (Legendary), Quiver of arrows: Various fletchings<br><strong>Enchanted Items:</strong> <br>Entropy (Glass Greatsword): Enchanted with Chaos Damage; Leech (Glass Bow): Enchanted with Soul Trap<br><strong>Spells:</strong><br><strong>Restoration:</strong><br>Fast Healing, Healing Hands</div></div></div>
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				Title: <strong>Re: Tales of Tamriel: In Chains (Midori Sadi &amp; SheerFantasia)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>SheerFantasia</strong> on <strong>27-08-2014, 09:29:15</strong>
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				<div class="floatleft">(http://i1027.photobucket.com/albums/y335/SheerFantasia/ValdisAxiusWinterhorn_zps8ff23047.jpg?t=1409044055)</div>There were no familiar sights to be seen amidst the crowd who cheered, hollered, and banged their hands on the floor boards with urgent invitations that she should approach within reach of their outstretched hands.&nbsp; The slave master laughed, but pushed them off.&nbsp; “No sampling of the wares until you pay for it!” he admonished with mock seriousness.&nbsp; “If you want this fine piece of meat, show me your coin!”<br><br>“Ten septims!” shouted a lanky, one-eyed weasel of a man.<br><br>“Bids start at four hundred, you cheap cur!” laughed the slave master and the crowd made a general sound of disappointment.&nbsp; “Do you think I’m selling common whores?&nbsp; I have it on good authority that she is <em>royal</em> whore of high breeding, I swear!” The crowd roared back with disbelief, and the slaver cracked his whip, seeming to gently caress her flesh in the passing, but it left a dark red welt upon her flank; “Cease your timidity you yellow-haired hussy; stand straight and show the crowd some of your charms!&nbsp; Look you dogs!&nbsp; See this figure?&nbsp; The clarity of her eyes?&nbsp; Ghazim, you old reprobate!&nbsp; I’ll bet you fifty septims that one night with her in your bed will cure you of your impotence and have your withered old stalk standing to attention in no time!”<br><br>The crowd laughed mockingly as the old rogue the slave master had singled out swore vehemently at the attack on his manhood.&nbsp; And the bidding began in earnest.<br><br>The marketplace continued its business as usual, paying little or no attention to the revelry at the slave block. Those who might have sympathised with the plight of the woman on stand were careful to avoid looking at her, knowing that all they could offer was pity.&nbsp; Not every person before the stand was a lecherous scoundrel; some men were of a colder, business-like disposition, with practiced eyes that appraised and judged what they saw.&nbsp; One such man of advanced years near the back of the crowd, now looked up as a rider reigned in beside him.&nbsp; This newcomer had pale aquiline features framed by lustrous dark hair; he presented a different image from the other Nords who surrounded him, who much heavier of body by contrast and whose coarse locks were typically light brown or straw-coloured.&nbsp; He sat straight-backed upon the horse, handling the animal with ease, tugging at the reigns with strong hands.&nbsp; Garbed from neck to toe in earthy browns and dark greens with gold embroidered patterns, the top of his black cloak was ringed with heavy white fur.<br><br>“Still at it?” inquired this newcomer carelessly without dismounting.&nbsp; “This is quickly turning into a wearying affair, Skjorn.&nbsp; How long have we been here already?&nbsp; A week?&nbsp; I think it was past time we were leaving.”<br><br>“As soon as we finish with the inventory Master Axius; not all the slaves survived the winter and they need to be replaced – we’ll have to wait a moment longer until they can rid themselves of the pretty harlot – undoubtedly someone will leave the market a happy man.”<br><br>Valdis looked up, watching as the slave master cracked his whip and put on his airs.&nbsp; The bid had reached nearly six hundred gold septims and men were pushing the price up only slowly.&nbsp; Rolling his eyes, he tugged at the reigns of the horse with growing irritation.&nbsp; At last, his store of patience ran out, and he spurred the horse forward to the annoyance of those who were forced aside.&nbsp; Skjorn looked on inquiringly.&nbsp; “How unusual of you to take interest in–”<br><br>“Three thousand septims for the woman,” called Valdis, his stentorian voice, and the shock of the announcement, cutting imperiously through the din of the crowd.&nbsp; Silence fell; all jostling and revelry cut short as the crowd looked incredulously at him, but Valdis gave no impression that he had made a joke, his expression impassive.&nbsp; The price on the bronzed, golden-haired slave had been set to so exorbitant an amount that it was doubtful if there would be any further bids.&nbsp; A fat wheezing merchant looked between the young Nord and the slave woman, licking his lips nervously as though he would dare a raise, but merchant that he was, decided that it was foolery to offer more for so little payoff, even if he did want to press his bulk atop her.<br><br>Skjorn stood aghast, eyes starting from his head.&nbsp; “Sold!” called the slave master at last, sensing the trend of things, the muscles in his anus twitching as he mentally counted the coins at though they were already in his hand.&nbsp; Zeila had just become the most valuable commodity in all of Tamriel.
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				Title: <strong>Re: Tales of Tamriel: In Chains (Midori Sadi &amp; SheerFantasia)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Divine Tenacity</strong> on <strong>28-08-2014, 10:23:29</strong>
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				<div class="floatright">(https://encrypted-tbn2.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcQRpfWc0KwidF7JhYvEQWd4kNNkNGZADsrPz_y2t1sxlLRmZ2lITQ)</div> Zeila slowly opened her teal- colored eyes and met the stares of the crowd with a bored one of her own. Let them gaze upon her if they dare. The slave master insulted her with the price he set on her body. Zeila was worth far more than four hundred septims. Those dogs were getting an undeserved bargain. It made her want to spit in all of their faces. <br><br>As the lash cracked past her, tasting her flesh, Zeila cried out and trembled, gripping her wrists tighter. It was almost always like this now. The blinding pain and her moistening mound. Something had broken inside of her during her enslavement. Something that craved each flash of the whip across her skin. Zeila squeezed her thighs together, hoping none saw the evidence of her desire leaking down her leg. <br><br><strong><em>I am pathetic.</em></strong> The queen turned slave thought, despairing in her bonds. <strong><em>These Nords think me something cheap and useless except for one thing. If I had a blade, I would show them all how wrong they are.</em></strong><br><br>“Three thousand septims for the woman,”<br><br>Zeila's teal eyes sought out the man who belonged to that voice that silenced the crowd. All eyes turned to a lordly young man sitting astride a stout mare. He was dressed in rider's finery in Earthy tones, a black cloak trimmed in white ermine across his shoulders. From what she could make out his features were prominently handsome, dark locks hanging haphazardly in still unknown colored eyes. Zeila's heart leapt for the briefest of moments, forgetting just for a moment that this man had just purchased her. <br><br>Her heart hardened all over again, erecting walls of steel. <br><br>“Sold!”<br><br>There was nothing left for her to do. Zeila was escorted off of the block by the two Redguard enforcers, each grabbing her roughly and taking discrete eyefuls and gropes at her body. It was the last time they were going to see her, touch her. Of course they took their liberties. The bronze woman grit her teeth and let it happen. Zeila hoped that her new Master was at least a little more kind, though she wasn't holding her breath.<br><br>She would find out soon enough.
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				Title: <strong>Re: Tales of Tamriel: In Chains (Midori Sadi &amp; SheerFantasia)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>SheerFantasia</strong> on <strong>02-09-2014, 10:40:01</strong>
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				After being led to the back of slave compound, it didn't take very long before Zeila’s new owner, or at least his representative, came to fetch what his master had paid for.&nbsp; Skjorn was a tall man entering his late middle years, consisting mostly of bone and sinew; his once dark hair streaked with grey and balding slightly at the crown.&nbsp; The slave master tugged her forward for his inspection, licking his lips at the anticipation of relieving the man of his gold.<br><br>Skjorn had long since seen his libido withered away by age, and, with his care as the major domo of his master's house, he looked distastefully at the woman who had set his household back by such a large amount.&nbsp; "Is she healthy?" he asked pointedly and the master slaver assured him she was in the peak condition of health, though neglecting to mention that she had been underfed.<br><br>"That remains to be seen,” snapped Skjorn.&nbsp; “I take it she is at least house broken?&nbsp; This creature doesn't look the sort to be found in some common household, and the last thing I’m about to tolerate is another source of chaos in the house.”<br><br>Despite his words, he did not wait for the other's assurance.&nbsp; With practiced hands, he seized her face and pushed aside her lips to look at her teeth.&nbsp; Satisfied, he went on to look over her body for signs of wasting or disease, her wrists and ankles for shackle scars that betrayed an unruly slave that remained unsold for a lengthy space, her breasts for fullness or deformity, and her sex – with hard fingers, he thrust a pair into her, feeling around before snorting.&nbsp; "Not even a virgin and you were starting the bid at four hundred septims?&nbsp; Also, I dare say this wench hasn't been fed - see those ribs, her face - when was the last time she ate?"<br><br>There was more, as the two discussed matters as though discussing the sale of a farm animal, ignoring her as they went.&nbsp; But at last, after much discourse, Skjorn at last reluctantly handed over a weighty pouch of coins.&nbsp; It was a testament to his skill as a negotiator that he shaved four hundred septims from the miserly slaver.&nbsp; “Come along you,” he motioned, once he had collected the deed of ownership and gathered her chains, leading her to the caged wagons where all the other slaves he painstakingly negotiated over the past week were being held.&nbsp; Without clothing her, two Nords ushered her into the wagon with nearly two dozen other slaves, securing her chains to the iron hoop in the floorboards..&nbsp; Some looked at her blankly, but most were only engrossed in gloomy speculations about their futures to really pay attention to a newcomer.
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				Title: <strong>Re: Tales of Tamriel: In Chains (Midori Sadi &amp; SheerFantasia)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Divine Tenacity</strong> on <strong>06-09-2014, 07:25:05</strong>
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				<div class="floatright">(https://encrypted-tbn2.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcQRpfWc0KwidF7JhYvEQWd4kNNkNGZADsrPz_y2t1sxlLRmZ2lITQ)</div> Zeila stumbled in her bonds as the slave master tugged her forward to be presented to the man that was with the other. She could barely conceal the look of disgust on her face as the valet of her new master began to inspect her, his own look of distaste clear on his face. At least they had that in common. <br><br>"Is she healthy?"<br><br>Zeila wanted to snap at the man. Of course she was healthy, healthy enough despite the poor treatment she endured in the slaver's care. She had lost a bit of weight and she guessed that it showed. Still the man reached forward to perform a more thorough inspection of her figure. She bit her lip as his gnarled hands groped her breasts, not sexual in anyway but humiliating all the same. She bit harder, stifling a cry when his finger probed her sex and sneered at the fact that she was no virgin. Zeila had not been one of those for a long time now, even before she found herself enslaved. It was none of this man's business, nor anyone else's.&nbsp; <br><br>Soon enough money and deed exchanged hands, as well as control of the chains she wore. The trade was done and she was finally able to leave the slaver's care. With one look back, she spat on the floor before him before turning back around, determined to never look back again. Zeila did wish that she still had some clothing however as they came upon the slave wagon. Though most of the other slaves looked blank or miserable, there were one or two that looked at her with blatant hunger. She was soon shackled to a hoop in the floorboards, secured for the ride to...where ever they were going.<br><br>Zeila would not give them, those Nords, that valet, or her new master the satisfaction of seeing her miserable. Head held high, Zeila settled in as comfortably as she could, preparing herself physically and mentally for the journey ahead. 
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				Title: <strong>Re: Tales of Tamriel: In Chains (Midori Sadi &amp; SheerFantasia)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>SheerFantasia</strong> on <strong>08-09-2014, 12:37:18</strong>
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				The heavy iron cage was closed and heavier chains bound it shut.&nbsp; Even as the two guards made their rounds to ensure that all was in order, Valdis came riding up, pulling the stallion to hold as soon as he was within earshot of Skjorn.&nbsp; “We <em>are</em> now ready to depart, aren’t we?” he asked wearily, to which Skjorn glowered darkly.<br><br>“No thanks to your extravagant spending my Prince, I would say that we are <em>quite</em> ready to depart,” exasperated the major-domo.&nbsp; “Why!&nbsp; Let us make it a habit of spending three thousand septims on every slave we buy in the future!”<br><br>One of the Nord guards, who was on the other side of the cage and out of earshot, whistled lowly and gave Redguard woman a second look.&nbsp; “Do you think she’s worth it?” he asked his partner with a chuckle.&nbsp; “Certainly she’d go some way to warm up the cold nights, but then again, why wait for the night?&nbsp; The days in Skyrim can also be rather chilly.”<br><br>“Get your head out of the clouds,” scolded the other.&nbsp; “Who ever heard of Valdis buying a woman to satisfy lust?&nbsp; Look at her closely – does she look like some collared city slut?&nbsp; This one is a fighter, or I’m a hagraven’s uncle.&nbsp; Don’t be surprised if she ends up guard captain in the future.”<br><br>“By the Nine, that will be the day!&nbsp; I doubt Valdis would be soft enough to put a mere slave in such a position!&nbsp; You say she’s a fighter?&nbsp; Look at that body you fool!&nbsp; Maybe the Prince has an eye for dark meat; certainly I–”<br><br>“Enough nonsense you two,” snarled Skjorn, having finished his discourse with Valdis and wondering why the two guards were not making their rounds.&nbsp; “Finish securing the wagon, then we leave.”&nbsp; The two men snapped to attention, saluted against their will and rushed off.&nbsp; Skjorn gave the nearby Zeila a dark glare, though he looked at her proud bearing a second time over, revaluating her a touch more favourably, but still without real favour.<br><br>Less than ten minutes later, the call to move forward came, and the wagons lurched forward where before them, the grey, ice capped mountains that separated Hammerfell from Skyrim loomed in the distance.&nbsp; It was not until shortly after midday that Valdis decided to finally come down from the front to see the sorry lot that Skjorn had selected.&nbsp; Handling his horse easily, he pulled beside the caged slave wagon, where he looked over those within impersonally.&nbsp; At least until he came to the bronzed Zeila.&nbsp; Though his expression did not much change, he called for Skjorn.<br><br>“Really, Skjorn?” he challenged.&nbsp; “Do you intend for her to freeze to death on her first night?&nbsp; How about affording her a little dignity at least, or are you just trying to please your old eyes?”<br><br>“My apologies Lord Valdis,” replied the other with bowed head and false obeisance.&nbsp; “Had I not been so flustered by your outrageous spending this morn I would have remembered.&nbsp; Gods, Valdis!&nbsp; What possessed you?&nbsp; Three thousand for a slave?&nbsp; Such a price is the ransom of royalty, and even then, only after careful consideration of all options; not on some whim!&nbsp; Well, we are far from town – some rags will have to suffice until–”<br><br>With his knees, Valdis urged his horse forward whilst his hands went to clasp of his cloak to undo it.&nbsp; Skjorn’s face was too blank to be anything but outrage as he whirled the cloak from his shoulders, bundled it and pushed it through the bars at the Redguard.&nbsp; “Here,” he grunted brusquely; “the fault is mine for not checking up early.&nbsp; It will never do for clothes, but at least it will keep the chill of night at bay.”
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				Title: <strong>Re: Tales of Tamriel: In Chains (Midori Sadi &amp; SheerFantasia)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Divine Tenacity</strong> on <strong>12-09-2014, 17:06:07</strong>
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				<div class="floatright">(http://www.hentairing.com/thumb/1/tia-harribel-bleach-8.jpg?width=774)</div> It grew colder and even more miserable as they set off. All Zeila was left with were her own thoughts and the ringing endorsements of the two Nord soldiers who guarded the slave cage. Both sung high praise of her body, though only one of the pair had a good glimpse of what she truly was. Zeila barely twitched her lips in acknowledgement as the taller of the pair said she could possibly make guard captain. If only he knew almost how right he was. He was just missing one more title that was rightfully hers, the one she dreamed of every night since being enslaved. <br><br>The cold seeped into her bones, yet the guards cared nor her fellow slaves. And why should they? For all they knew, she was just another slave, here to either warm the Lord's bed or work within his household. The major-domo, Skjorn still cold not believe the outrageous price at which she was purchased. To be honest, Zeila was a little surprised herself. Never had she been purchased at a price so high. Her last Master had only spent five hundred of his septims for her purchase. Regardless of the matter, she was glad to leave his service, though now she was taken even farther from the azure shores of Sentinel. By now the already tropical clime would have grown even more so with the oncoming of summer. What day was it? What month? Did it even matter? Zeila sighed and hugged her body closer to keep warm, thinking of a particularly hot day in Sentinel. <br><br><strong><em>Sentinel... home.</em></strong><br><br><div align="center">_____</div><br><em>Heels beat a measured, yet rapid pace across the mother-of pearl tiles of the royal palace. Clad in her every day &nbsp;finery (http://binarymessiah.files.wordpress.com/2013/01/2013-01-28_00122.jpg?w=549&amp;h=343), Queen Zeila pushed open the large ornate doors leading to her throne room. As one, the nobles that lingered and courted each other fell silently to their knees, heads bowing in reverence and she strode past without sparing nary a one a single glance. Once alighted on her throne, she gestured for them to rise. As one they rose and went back to their frivolities, discussing the latest manner of fashion trends or shows that were being performed at the playhouse.<br><br>This comfortable life was starting to take a toll on Zeila herself. Since ascending to the throne, her kingdom and the surrounding lands had finally achieved a hard earned peace. Since her Father's time, Hammerfell was brought to heel one by one, taming the feral dogs of the outer lying city-states. He made the land safer for her and her sister, so they might be better and wiser rulers. As much as she appreciated the gift her Father had left for her and the younger, by the Nine; her days were boring.<br><br>Speaking of Iszara... she entered the throne room shortly after she, golden hair streaming behind her as she was decked out in only the finest of &nbsp;clothing (http://binarymessiah.files.wordpress.com/2013/01/2013-01-27_00058.jpg), the sumptuous crimson spidersilk that clung to the planes and curves of her svelte body. <strong>"My Queen, I come with news from the contingent of Imperials that have arrived a couple of days ago. They wonder if you will ever meet with them to discuss the purpose of their visit."</strong><br><br>Zeila sighed and crossed one long leg over the other. Those damned Imperials had arrived at her Court a few days ago, speaking of alliances forged through marriage and the possibility of opening trade routes between Sentinel and Imperial City. Zeila was instantly ready to decline them when they had brought along a Prince of Cyrodiil for her to get acquainted with. How dare they try and force her into a preposterous marriage? Thus, she had kept them waiting, but their patience was bound to run out soon.<br><br>In any case, it was time to give the bastards her answer. <strong>"Iszara, invite them to dinner tonight in my private dining hall. I would also like for you to attend as well."</strong><br><br>Iszara bowed low, hiding the slight smile within her long blonde strands, <strong>"Yes my Queen."</strong></em><br><br><div align="center">_____</div><br>Zeila came to from her daydream shivering hard. The caravan had been on the road for some time, their compass pointing ever north. The cold was sinking into her bare bones by leaps and bounds, until her teeth were clattering against one another. Zeila was sorely tempted to ask for some sort of covering, but her pride was not gong to allow for that. She would rather die before she begged favors of them.<br><br>It was around midday when the caravan was called to a halt. Zeila shivered hard, tried to keep her wrists from making as little contact with the cold iron of the cuffs to no avail. Stupid absent-minded Nords, all the septims spent on her just to see it go to waste if she died of the chills. Maybe if she protested and reminded them of the purchase price set on her, they would wise up and give her something to cover up with.<br><br>It seemed like the Nord noble had much of the same idea as he came by the slave wagon to inspect his wares. He turned to Skjorn and had a few quick, scathing words with him. Zeila's lips twitched as the young noble accused the major-domo of having her freeze to death on the first night because he wanted to ogle her body. Zeila was thinking much of the same thing until the young Nord rode forward, unbuckling his cloak. Zeila watched him with an incredulous look on her face as he shoved the rich cloth through the bars of the gate, offering it to her to cover up. She watched him for a moment longer before accepting it and placing it around her shoulders, much to the surprise and jealous stares of the other slaves. Zeila ignored them all and fastened the cloak, already feeling much warmer. <br><br>The Nord noble offered her a kindness, it made her think better of him. Not by much, but enough. Zeila could not remember the last time she had a drink of water. She was not about to ask either, she harbored a guess from those blue-grey eyes that his kindness only went so far. She brought her knees up under the cloak, feeling her body warm slowly. Zeila nodded her head slightly and spoke for the first time that day. Kind thoughts were repaid with kind words, albeit harsh and ragged from a dry throat.<br><br><strong>"Thank you."</strong><br><br>The caravan resumed its trek to the Northern lands, albeit with one slave a little warmer than the others. Zeila kept her head bowed for this duration of the ride, hiding what she was really doing under the cloak. It had been entirely too long since she had last felt fabric like this. The last time was that night… Zeila frowned as her eyes began to grow distant, memory once more setting in. <br><br><div align="center">_____</div><br><div class="floatleft">(http://38.media.tumblr.com/98996917d8ef75d3195904e6f02ce219/tumblr_n0lfdgSs7j1rgjbrto2_1280.jpg)<br><em><span style="font-size: 6pt;" class="bbc_size">Iszara Sanya Mede- Princess/Regent of Hammerfell</span></em></div><br><em><strong>”The Nine hold the Queen, let them see her for the slut she truly is!”</strong> <br><br>Everything was spinning. Why was everything spinning? She didn’t fall, so why was the world spinning? <strong><em>What happened to me?</em></strong> Pain… everything hurt… <strong><em>Why do I hurt?</em></strong> A large weight fell onto her, causing her to grunt and fall against something. Gold flashed on the edges of her vision as the weight above to fumble with her clothing. Zeila could deal with the weight on top of her later, there was something important about that cup... at once, it came rushing back to her.<br><br><strong><em>That's right. I have been drugged.</em></strong><br><br>Her body jerked as familiar annoyingly incessant laughter filtered through her addled mind, the sound of cloth tearing accompanying the laugh. Her breasts were freed into the air among some very male exclamations, hands reaching out to touch and grope her ample flesh. <strong>"Gentlemen, there is plenty of time to train her later, right now the only people she should be engaged by is myself and Lord Romanus.<strong></strong></strong> Iszara's heeled feet came into Zeila's slowly clearing vision. Zeila knew she was in a bad place now, the pain in her head prevented her from fighting back as pudgy hands groped her chest and tweaked her nipples, coaxing disgusting sounds to crawl from her throat. <br><br>Iszara laughed again and placed a heel onto Zeila's face, the stiletto of the shoe biting deep into the darker bronzed cheek. If Zeila could spit she could. If she had been wearing a sword... she would have taken the filthy bitch's head. How stupid was she to trust the only person she had left in the world by her side? Extremely stupid for letting Iszara convince her to not wear a blade on her persons during the festivities tonight. <strong>"Please see to entertaining the guards, they are a lot more impressionable than you may realize."</strong> <br><br>Even as her mind and vision cleared, Zeila knew what was going on. Iszara usually agreed with her on all things, including foreigners. The only reason she would work with them is because they made her an offer she could not refuse. That offer being Hamerfell's crown. Still... Zeila could not help but ask Iszara, hear the words&nbsp; of her betrayal come from her own mouth. <strong>"W-Why?"</strong><br><br>Once the rest of the small Imperial party had left, Iszara turned her attention back to Zeila. <strong>"Pity it had to come to this, Zeila. You've always known I wanted your crown. Why act so surprised?"</strong> The younger Mede dropped to her knees in front of the elder, who legs were splayed open with little regard as two fat and clammy fingers were brazenly shoved inside of her. Iszara smiled at the sick sight, a paler bronzed hand reaching out to stroke over tussled gold locks so like her own.&nbsp; <strong>"The why is redundant at this point. I have already gotten away with it."<strong></strong></strong> Growing disgusted by the fat Imperial plucking his breeches open, Iszara stood and strode to the door. <strong>"By this time tomorrow, you will be halfway to Cyrodiil, gone off to elop with the Imperial noble you fell in love with. The only thing that awaits you is misery, dear sister."</strong><br><br>As her purposes were revealed, Zeila stayed quiet. Though they shared blood, Iszara was no longer any sister of hers. As her blood ran cold for what horrors her future would await her, Zeila's body jerked sharply, pain growing steadily in her nether region. The fat noble sweating on top of her whooped loudly as he thrusted repeatedly. <strong>"A virgin too, eh? By the Nine, I am truly graced with Nocturnal's dastardly Daedric luck!"</strong> <br><br>To that, Iszara raised an eyebrow, pausing at the door in genuine surprise. Cutting her steely blue gaze at her older sister once more. <strong>"Quite."</strong> The younger Mede opened the door, drowning out the soft sobs and boisterous grunts to the revelry of outside. <strong>"You should be glad that I didn't just have some assassin end your miserable life. After all, you are my sister and I love you dearly."</strong> With that Iszara left her to be raped... and worse in the Imperial's hands. <br><br>Zeila's heart hardened just as hard as the heavy wooden doors slammed. As soon as she found her way back home --if she ever found her way back home-- Iszara's life was her forfeit. That was a promise the rightful queen meant to keep with both hands.</em><br><br><div align="center">_____</div><br>Zeila the slave was startled away with a large mailed hand shaking her shoulder. Her hands went to her side... before realizing she was still naked except for the cloak about her shoulders. Rubbing at one teal eye, she took stock of her surroundings with the other. The caravan had just reached the beginning of the snow line of the Druadach mountains. It was a natural barrier separating Hammerfell from Skyrim. If Zeila remembered her cartography lessons, just over on the other side was Falkreath, one of the nine major cities the province held. This was going to be the furtherest from Sentinel than she had ever been.&nbsp; <br><br>The Nord poked her again, none too gently."Oi, wake up!" One of the Nords from earlier spoke harshly into her ear as he undid the shackles holding her to the cart's floor. "Lord Valdis demands your presence in his pavilion tonight. Come now, quickly." Zeila observed him for a moment longer before moving from her sitting position and out of the cage. Bare feet jerked in surprise as they made contact with the frozen ground, yet she hid the action by wrapping the cloak around her body tighter. <br><br>The Nord grasped her about her upper arm, grip firm and unbreakable. Zeila recognized him as the one from earlier, who said good things about her. She would have said thank you, but slaves were not known to show gratitude to their captors. Instead, she kept her mouth firmly shut as he walked her over to the sumptuous pavilion that rested just underneath a cliff overhang. It looked warm and inviting, yet it also made her heart beat faster. Already her new Master demanded an audience. Zeila could only image what he would demand of her.<br><br>Yet she walked on, trying to convince herself everything would be alright. 
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