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Myrna

By: GaryAlanByron



Myrna likes to bang dead guys. I'd learned to live with that. So, my now ex-girlfriend who lives over a funeral home prefers the rigid dicks of guys who benefit from rigor mortis. I once was man enough to admit when I was beat. I mean, how could any living, breathing guy possibly compete with a fellow with an eternal hard-on? Hell, I used to get flaccid just thinking about it.

Myrna, on the other hand, became extremely aroused. The corpses, well they just went along for the ride.

It all began innocently enough. Myrna a few summers ago was looking for new digs after her roommates Dixie and Cherona had kicked her out of their New Town shared brownstone once they realized Myrna was not who she had claimed to be. (Myrna had led her roomies to believe she was descended from royalty of Lesbos — but that's another story, and concerns Myrna's quest for cheap rent at almost any cost.)

Myrna immediately spotted an ad in the Reader classifieds for a Far North Side funeral home, Shmuel Bros.' Last Resort, seeking a caretaker to live over its facility, mostly to keep an eye on things, and ensure no one walked off with dead folk. And to answer the phone. Myrna jumped at the opportunity.

While I was a tad uneasy about the concept of Myrna residing, and for me spending nights with her, above a funeral home — sharing living quarters so close to dead quarters — Myrna said she had no reservations whatsoever about the idea, and in fact found it intriguing. "No noisy neighbors," she'd gloated. "That's a plus. And I can crank my stereo loud as hell, and not worry about disturbing anyone!"

I couldn't argue with that logic. And I hadn't a clue yet as to what other perks there'd be there for Myrna's entertainment pleasure.

I first encountered Myrna on the Internet. There's a surprise, huh? It was quite by accident. Well, not really. But, I mean, it wasn't for the purpose of romance. Well, I wasn't seeking romance. Well, all right, maybe I was, but I wasn't seeking it exactly in a romance chat room. It was using something called the IRC. OK, that's like a chat room. Anyway, we met. She lived in Oregon, but eventually I convinced Myrna — twenty years my junior, having failed herself out of a prestigious private college she'd worked hard to attend after spending her high-school senior year living in Finland where she'd reportedly learned the fine art of orgy — to move in with me in my Ukrainian Village rat-hole efficiency. Here, Myrna returned to her studies, at the University of Illinois at Chicago. That was good for a semester, then she dropped out.

Meantime, things were pretty sweet. For me, more sex than I'd ever had in all the years hence. I wasn't even fazed by Myrna's multiple piercings (nose, tongue, right nipple, and navel) and tattoos (abdomen and left ankle), which normally would dissuade my attentions elsewhere — any other woman sans piercings and tattoos! Then one day Myrna decided she needed her own space — away from her boyfriend. So she moved out of our brief love nest and in with the gals in New Town. She'd said she needed to be away from our constant cuddling. It had been too intense.

But I digress.

Myrna first discovered dead guys' "incredibly rigidly raucously rideable" (as she termed 'em) dicks while seeking a place to keep her beer cold. One night when the small refrigerator in her funeral-home apartment kicked out, she grabbed its sole contents, a six-pack of Augsburger Dark, and whisked her way downstairs to the home's cold-storage area, where corpses were stowed in pullout drawers awaiting preparation for The Final Journey Home. Out of the blue, on a whim, she later claimed, she then sent 'em off with a bang, no one the wiser, not even the dead guys, who, were they alive, would've enjoyed the ride.

I know. I've gone along for the ride myself. Unfortunately, though, according to Myrna, my ride's less exciting. But, as I said before, that's a bit of truth I've learned to live with.

What about the relatives of the deceased, I remember once asking Myrna. Didn't she think someone might suspect. Maybe there'd be a glow about the corpse's countenance after one of Myrna's midnight mounts. Even dead guys can appreciate a good lay, I'd quipped to Myrna. That evoked from her a smile. "You're right," she'd said. "How'll they react when the dead guy starts coming?" Quite the resurrection it'd be, I'd noted. The idea brought a sparkle into Myrna's already-dazzling emerald-color eyes. "Hallelujah! Praise the Lord! He's risen," Myrna had gushed.

During one particular eulogy service, in the summer, on a ferociously hot day when the funeral home's air-conditioning was on the fritz, I, sitting in the rear — yes, "crashing" a funeral — overheard two women in seats ahead of me whispering amongst themselves.

"Eunice, tell me if I'm wrong, but when I was standing next to Earl's casket, I could have sworn I smelled...."

"Smelled what?" Eunice questioned.

"Well, uh, it smelled like Earl had just had sex."

"Sex? What do you mean you smelled sex?" Eunice interrogated her best friend of sixty-some odd years, Zelda.

"Well, you know, Eunice; it smelled as if someone had had an, um, an, um," Zelda quibbled.

"Had what?" Eunice demanded.

"Well, an orgasm," Zelda demurred.

"Oh, my God, Zelda, are you meshugine? Why in God's name would Earl, alashon, smell like an orgasm?"

That was more than I could bear. I wanted to shout out to all within earshot "Because my meshugine girlfriend is fucking the dead guys!" But I wimped out, stood up, and went my merry way.

It wasn't Myrna who drove me into analysis; I've seen a shrink for some time. But suddenly I felt more than ever I had to unload to an ostensibly uninterested third party.

Doctor Bluestein at first thought I was delusional. Or kibitzing. I am a kibitzer. But then he seemed to believe my tales of Myrna's after-hours DOA rendezvous. So obsessed was I with my girlfriend's "quirk," there was one occasion, when Bluestein seemed unusually quiet — normally, he often chimed in with psycho babble — that I feared looking up from the couch behind Bluestein's chair, half expecting to see him dead as a doornail, stone-cold gray, Myrna gregariously riding his departed but dutiful dork.

Bluestein eventually asked me to seek analysis elsewhere. "Frankly, Nathan, you've been freaking me out. Hell, now I'm in analysis — and it's freaking out my psychiatrist!"

I realized then that the realm of psychology was not the venue for unleashing my Myrna woes. What exactly was, however, I remained uncertain.

My folks adored Myrna. They of course had no clue. To them she was a nice young lady — even if she wasn't Jewish — and they envisioned that one day she and I would marry.

Both Mom and Dad acknowledged the fact that I needed "breeding-age stock" if I ever would have a chance at procreation. And Myrna — vivacious, smart as a whip, and cute as a button — filled the bill.

One night, at dinner, Dad questioned Myrna. "Do you think you'd ever want children?"

Myrna paused. Finally, smirking, she said "I suppose."

"Suppose what?" Dad pursued.

Myrna's grin widened. "Well, if the right man came along."

Dead silence. I chuckled, though for reasons other than my folks could've ever imagined.

"You don't think he has?" Mom threw in.

"It's quite possible," Myrna retorted. "But I'd like to keep him guessing." Whether or not Myrna that evening was referring to me or her latest passed-on paramour, Leo Feldman, a retired tailor, who during his lifetime had been reputedly "quite the ladies' man," I didn't know.

Deciding Myrna and I needed to get away from her regular goings on, I one weekend improvised, and whisked her away for a romantic getaway at a Galena B&B. The weekend went fairly well. The setting was serene, sobering and sensuous. Myrna and I made love more times during that one weekend than we had during our relationship to that point. I suddenly was insatiable and possessed of more stamina than ever before. My libido was out of control. Not that Myrna complained; though at times — and I can't say this for certain — it seemed as if Myrna was not entirely devoted to our wanton escapades. It was as if she was fantasizing about another man — maybe, just maybe, the by-then-interred sewing-smith playboy Leo Feldman. I found myself jealous of a buried stiff.

One day while sitting alone in my kitchen, feverishly trying to complete a New York Times crossword while trying my best to avoid thinking about The Myrna Quandary, I had an epiphany. An epiphany perhaps much delayed, but an epiphany nonetheless. I absolutely had to break up with Myrna.

"I'm dating a fucking necrophiliac," I yelled out, it finally dawning on me. But then there, too, was my inexplicable love for Myrna. It was difficult to deny. As insane as was her perverse proclivity, Myrna had won her way into my heart like no other woman ever had, or since has. "Fuck the necrophilia; she's unfaithful!" I cried out.

That was it. Myrna and I would be no more. I would break the news to her later that day, after taking in a double-feature at the Music Box — not ironically, "Weekend at Bernie's" and "Weekend at Bernie's 2."

Myrna took my decision surprisingly well. I was somewhat dismayed that she was not more brokenhearted. But then I knew she had an endless cache of suitors awaiting her. But then why had she spent her time also with a fellow who could return the favor? Some questions, I've since learned, cannot be answered. Not even by the likes of Doctor Bluestein, God bless him — probably these days a ward of Elgin's mental health facility.

For a time Myrna and I spoke by phone. I never asked what was up. Then our communication became strictly written correspondence, via e-mail. (DeadGuysRule was Myrna's user name, with an Internet service provider I'll save the embarrassment of revealing.) The last message I received from Myrna, actually an IM, was "Gotta go. My date's waiting." I didn't question her on that revelation.

"Have a good time," I typed back, but by that time she had signed off line.

Now and again I heard rumors about Myrna, from a cadre of coeds who apparently shared a Starbucks with both her and me.

"That chick lives over a funeral home," one gal blurted out.

"What kind of action do you think she can get living in a spook-house like that?" her girlfriend wondered aloud.

"She's a pretty neat person, though," another gal stated, having on several occasions, before her girlfriends arrived, engaged in idle banter with Myrna while waiting on their double-mocha lattes.

Since Myrna's and my breakup, I've managed to move on. I left my freelance journalism career for a full- time editorial position with a chain of suburban dailies. When your hours aren't your own, you've less time to wonder about things that might have been and those which should never have happened. I'm dating a co-worker, Sherry, one of my assistant editors, who, as far as I know, limits her kinky antics to handcuffs, Bosco and Dream Whip. To me now, post-Myrna, that's mere child's play.

"So, what was your last girlfriend like?" Sherry on one occasion asked of me.

"Quite the hellion," I responded, leaving it at that, glad that Sherry saw no need to pursue her line of questioning.

The last time I saw Myrna was at an art-gallery showing of a friend of mine's erotic paper cutouts. I suspected Myrna might be there, but had hoped to avoid her since our break-up — immediately following another funeral service, after I overheard the rabbi kibitzing with one mourner "Don't tell Sadie, but I think her Mort got lucky for the first time in forty years — since he's passed on."

That incident helped me make up my mind: not only was I in competition with eternally-rigid peckers, but it sometime soon would become known to all who paid their respects during a ceremony that ought be wrought with some degree of decorum — even a kibitz about the deceased, perhaps a pleasantly-memorable anecdote expressing a personality trait of his, would be acceptable compared to mourners and the rabbi gossiping about the dearly departed's possible post-mortem sexual antics.

I genteelly approached Myrna, and she smiled. "How are things at the home?" I inquired.

Myrna bowed her head. "Business is booming," she reported. "But I think I'm pregnant."

"The father isn't one of the dead guys," I earnestly suggested.

"Has to be," Myrna tearfully replied. "I haven't been fucking anyone else — you know, I mean who's living."

Admittedly my oft-warped sense of humor kicked in with the retort, "Well, guess it won't matter if it's a girl or a boy. It'll be cold as stone, a chip off the old man's headstone."

Myrna actually tittered. Then she walked off, and that's the last I've ever heard from her. No news reported in the tabloids about "Dead Man Fathers Zombie Child," so I suppose Myrna had an abortion, or somehow else kept things all hush-hush.

As for me, I break silence only because, well, how can you keep this kind of shit to yourself?

Myrna and Ilia 01



Ilia reached around, cupping Myrna's breast in her hand and nuzzling the Dragonborn's silky ravenblack hair. Their naked bodies exuded warmth. Myrna rolled onto her back, looking up at her new lover's face, almost lost in the bliss of the afterglow. The sight of Myrna's face, the most beautiful she had ever seen, brought a new tingling to Ilia's loins. She smiled at the young woman whose saltiness she could still taste on her tongue. 

"Can I ask you something?" Ilia said. 

"Of course."

"How long have you been...interested in women?"

"As long as I can remember."

"You've never been with a man?"

"Not yet."

"Do you want to be?"

"I've never really though about it."

"What was it that drew you to women in the first place?"

"It's a bit of a long story," Myrna said.

"I don't need to go anywhere," Ilia smiled.

"Well, my mother worked as a...courtesan in the Imperial City. Relatively high-class, for that sort of work, but not exactly a great life. There was one official at whose pleasure she served, primarily. He was probably my father but I don't know for sure. In any case, when she became pregnant, his attentions waned and her status diminished. Eventually, she lost her place within the house and soon found her clientele among a rougher class of people. My earliest memories are watching her...at work...from across a dirty room. She didn't last long. By the time I was six, I was more or less fending for myself in the streets. Disease took her not long after. I made my living from petty theft in the market, mostly, or picking pockets. Just enough to eat, sleeping in whatever shelter I could find. Stables, empty market stalls, cellars accidently left open. One day, I was not quite 8, a woman caught me pickpocketing her. To my surprise, she did not call the guards. If she had it would have been the orphanage for me, and then Gods knows what. She took my firmly by the arm and led me into a nearby building. I was petrified with fear as she knelt down before me. And then she smiled. 'Child,' she said, 'your hands are nimble. But not nearly nimble enough. And your ragged clothes cloak you in suspicion. Where is your home?' I told her I had none. 'As I suspected,' she said. Anyway, to make a long story short, she was the head of a group of thieves, all women. Everyone lived together under the market in what had been the basement of a long-demolished palace. Her name was Liana. She was something like a mother to the group. Girls would come and go, but there were generally between a dozen and fifteen of us. I was the youngest at the time, and she took a special interest in me, teaching me how to steal, well, just about anything, how to move about practically unseen, all the skills a good thief needs."

"How old was she?" Ilia asked.

"She was maybe 28 at the time. The rest of the girls were mostly in their late teens, a few a bit older than that. Anyway, as I got older, I began to realize that all the girls were...active with each other. And when I got to be of age, I too joined in. In fact, it was a whole rite of passage, becoming a full member of this guild. One day Liana came to me and said, 'You are a child no longer, Myrna. It is time you joined us body and soul. You will know the pleasure that only the touch of a woman can bring. You will give yourself to the group. The group will give itself to you in return. And all the glories of this world will be upon you.' I wasn't exactly sure what she meant, of course, but something in her eyes and the tone of her voice made me feel so warm down there, like I'd never felt before. She whispered in my ear, 'Tonight, in the main chamber. Go now, and bathe yourself. Soon your world will be changed forever.'"

"When I finished bathing, Daphne, the next youngest of our group, was waiting for me. My clothes were gone, and I had only a towel to cover myself. Daphne told me to let it drop. 'Turn around,' she said. I could feel her watching me as I did. 'As Liana commands,' she whispered, her voice just inches behind me. She slid a piece of cloth over my eyes and tied it securely around my head. A fierce chill ran through my body as she gently ran her fingers down my spine. 'You must trust that no harm will come to you,' she said softly. 'You must give yourself up completely.' My heart was pounding. 'Do you understand?" I nodded. She took my hand and guided me to the main chamber. I longed to see what was going on. I felt so vulnerable. She let go of my hand."

"I just stood there, and could hear nothing by the beating of my heart and my own breath. Then Liana's voice: 'Welcome, my darling girl. Tonight, you become one of us.' She gently moved me back a few tiny steps, until I felt a velvet cloth touch the back of my knees. Liana gently pushed my shoulders down. 'Sit,' she commanded. I did. Then, 'lay back.' As I did, my wrists were suddenly grabbed and I was yanked backwards until I was lying on my back. Leather straps were quickly wrapped round my wrists, and these tied to something I couldn't see. Then my ankles got the same treatment, and suddenly I was as helpless as can be, spread-eagled, my arms and legs stretched almost painfully taut. The blindfold was then removed, and Liana's naked body loomed over me. The rest of the girls were standing around us in a circle, all nude as well."

"'Don't be afraid, my dear,' Liana said, dropping to all fours, her nipples hovering just over mine. She brushed her lips against mine, and then her tongue leapt into my mouth, hot and wet, our saliva mingling. I felt a surge of pleasure in my cunt as her tongue thrust in and out of my mouth. She bit me softly on the neck and kissed her way down to my breasts. When she sucked a nipple into her mouth I thought I would explode. I could hardly believe the throbbing I was feeling down below. By the time her mouth reached my clit, I was so turned on that I came in just seconds, shuddering with wave after wave of pleasure. Liana stopped just long enough to smile up at me before she returned, lapping at my juices, working her way from my wet hole to my clit, flicking her tongue in and out of me and then sucking my engorged clit into her mouth. Suddenly Liana herself gasped with pleasure. I looked up to see Miranda, a slender blonde girl, thrusting into Liana with a phallus strapped around her waste. As she began to move in and out of Liana's pussy faster and faster, Liana's lapping at my cunt grew more feverish. I came again, screaming this time, and Liana joined me. Suddenly she swung around and buried her cunt in my face. My tongue darted out to taste her even as my lungs cried out for a breath they could not take. And then I felt it – Miranda's hard phallus probing at my hole, pressing, and finally slipping inside me. It hurt for just a moment, until, fully inside, her mound pressed against my clit. Liana lifted her pussy just long enough for me to gasp and take a deep breath, and then down she came again, grinding into me as Miranda slowly pumped me. In moments I came again, screaming with what breath I had into Liana's dripping cunt."

"My goodness," Ilia said, almost not realizing she was rubbing herself lightly. "That sounds like quite an evening."

"Oh, it was," Myrna smiled. "It went on like that for hours. There were fourteen of us that night, and each of the girls took turns fucking me or eating me out, and then riding my face until they were satisfied. I lost count of how many times I came. When it was all over, I was untied. Liana sat me up. I could hardly move at that point. Everyone gathered around in a tight circle and I took the oath, forsaking, so long as I remained with the guild, the touch of men and swearing my body's loyalty to the group."

"Gods, why did you ever leave?" asked Ilia, imagining an endless stream of girls to service her.

"That's another long story," Myrna said. Ilia suddenly felt the Dragonborn's strong hand on the back of neck, pushing her face relentlessly down to her new lover's pussy. Ilia lapped eagerly for several minutes, until, overcome with her own desire, she swung her body around until her pussy was in Myrna's face. As Ilia continued to mash Myrna's clit with her tongue, she gently lowered herself onto Myrna's mouth. As Myrna's hot tongue slipped inside her, Ilia pushed back, covering Myrna's mouth and nose completely. "I know what you like now," Ilia smiled to herself.



Myrna and Ilia 02



"Mmmm," Myrna moaned contentedly. "Gods, you taste good." Ilia nuzzled up to the Dragonborn, and could smell herself on her lover's lips and face.

"Thank you. You're not bad, either."

"Not bad? Hardly a resounding endorsement."

Ilia, a powerful conjurer, called forth a tiny shock of electricity from her finger to Myrna's nipple.

"Ow!" cried the Dragonborn. Ilia giggled.

"See? You're defenseless with your weapons across the room like this, your armor off...You really ought to learn to harness your magicka," said Ilia.

"I've always got my shouts," Myrna teased. 

"I prefer your moans," said Ilia.

"Well, anyway, that's my story," said Myrna. "What about you?"

"Oh, you know. Coven of witches. Kind of goes with the territory."

"Sounds nice."

"It was nothing like what you had, from the sounds of it. It was a lot of older women. Not very attractive. Well, you saw some of them. There were a few I had fun with. A few male members as well. I must say a nice warm cock up inside you has its charms from time to time. But there's nothing like the touch of a woman."

"There's nothing like your touch, that's for sure. When you get that electricity dancing at your fingertips...mmm."

"You like that little trick, huh?"

"I do."

"So...what's the rest of your long story? Why did you leave your little group of thieves back in the Imperial City and wind up out here?"

"I'm the Dragonborn, silly. It was my destiny," Myrna laughed.

"But you didn't know that at the time..."

"No. Well, essentially, I got caught. Liana would send me on the most challenging jobs, training me as she had since I was so little. And she had her thumb on the pulse of the city. Her little organization had tacit approval, so long as the right amounts of money crossed the right hands at the right times. The job was a commission from a Council member, and the target was another Council member. Bitter rivals, apparently. I was to steal the one's most cherished possession. Unfortunately, Liana had been given bad information. The mark was supposed to be across town, but was, in fact, at home. Just as I snatched what I needed from his bedroom, in he came, a sly grin on his face. 'Aren't you a pretty young thing?' he smirked. 'I will give you two options. Give yourself to me and you may yet live. In a dank, dark cell. Or refuse me, and my two guards outside will violate you in every way imaginable. And then you'll be beheaded. And every last member of your little guild will suffer the same fate. The choice is yours.'

"Well, needless to say, I didn't care for either of those options. 'My Lord,' I said, 'you needn't threaten me to get me into your bed.' I slowly, seductively, moved toward him. 'Consorting with a man of your position and...reputation...' At this, I put my hand firmly on his crotch. '...Is every poor girl's dream. In fact, I think, once you're sated, you'll want to keep me around.' As I spoke I leaned into him, my mouth almost touching his, my hand feeling his member grow rigid, even as I pulled a stiletto from my belt with my other hand. As our lips met, I plunged the dagger up through the base of his skull into his brain. He died instantly, although happily, I imagine."

"Gods," said Ilia.

"He was my first kill. I must admit, I got a huge charge out of it. Had I not known there were guards outside the door, I think I would have pleasured myself then and there. As it was, I was out the window in a flash. But, having killed a man of that position, I had put Liana in a terrible bind. 'My darling,' she said, 'all the money I can lay hands on in a lifetime can't make this crime go away. We'll be destroyed if I don't give them the murderer.'"

"She betrayed you?" Ilia gasped.

"Well, I understood. It was me or everyone. I asked only for a head start. 'Until morning,' Liana said. I quickly gathered my things and slipped out of the city through the sewers. She'd told me to head for Hammerfell. I came here instead. They caught me crossing the border. I was on the block when that dragon attacked Helgen."

"Well, lucky for you that the Stormcloaks have taken over then."

"Luck? I played no small role in their victory, my dear. If I learned anything from Liana, it's that one must make her own luck. Anyway, it's clear now that Skyrim is where I was supposed to be. So everything happened for a reason."

"I wonder," said Ilia, "Do I fit into the grand scheme of things somehow?"

Myrna took Ilia's hand and guided it down between her legs. "You fit just fine," she whispered. Ilia slid two fingers into Myrna's still-wet hole, curling them forwards and rubbing the front wall of Myrna's pussy. Myrna gasped as Ilia sent a little current of shock through her fingertips. Only the howling wind outside the Nightgate Inn kept the lover's cries from the ears of the innkeeper and the rest of the guests. They slept long into the morning, almost numb with pleasure and contented by each other's warm, soft flesh, neither wanting to face the chill outside the furs that covered them. When Ilia finally awoke, she saw Myrna slip through the door, nearly invisible in her sleek black armor, her ebony axe dangling from her perfectly-shaped hips. Was she leaving, Ilia wondered? But the fierce-looking Daedric bow still sat in the corner, a quiver of arrows beside it, and Ilia knew her young lover would be back. She felt the stickiness between her thighs and sighed at the remembrance of the night's pleasures. When, she thought, would they again have such a cozy room in which to enjoy themselves? It was much better than cold nights outdoors next to a fire on the hard, rocky ground. "She's never going to settle down," Ilia said to herself. And then she wondered if she ever would, either.



Myrna and Ilia 03



Ilia gazed happily at Myrna as the young Imperial bantered with a Redguard trader. It was nice to see the Dragonborn let her guard down for once, to forget about the burdens and responsibilities of her apparent destiny. She'd even cast off the sinister black armor she usually wore day and night, trading it for a cleavage-baring bodice and a pleasantly short figure-hugging skirt. Her laughter filled Ilia's ears, and her smile, so rare, was something Ilia would never tire of seeing. Myrna turned to her companion, eyes aglow, and drained the rest of her cup of alto wine. "You were right," she said to Ilia. "Thanks for dragging me here. It's good to unwind." But her face suddenly hardened as she fixed her gaze on the just-opened door of the Winking Skeever. Ilia turned to follow her gaze; a red-haired woman, half-naked and half covered in strategically placed green velvet, together with a broad-shouldered Nord in plate armor strolled up to the bar. Neither looked like anyone to trifle with, but there was an almost animal intensity in the woman's face. Since teaming up with Myrna a few months prior, Ilia had taken on just about every horrible thing she could imagine, and handled every foe with an almost easy assuredness, feeding as she did off the Dragonborn's confidence and abilities. But the woman in green was not anyone Ilia would want to tangle with, she instinctively knew, even with Myrna at her side.

Ilia turned back to her lover just in time to hear Myrna mutter, "shit" under her breath. "Do you know them?" Ilia asked. Myrna's eyes would not meet hers for several seconds. Finally Myrna looked at her sternly. "They're members of the Companions, from Whiterun. Farkas is the man. The woman is Aela the Huntress."

"You're upset they're here?" asked Ilia.

Myrna looked noncommittal, which was enough to answer Ilia in the affirmative. She'd never known Myrna to be so obviously evasive about anything. The two Companions each took a large mug of mead from the bar and looked around for a table. They chose one not too far from where Myrna and Ilia sat, although the dim lighting and the presence of a large stone pillar hid the two women somewhat from the newcomers. Myrna tapped the table with her finger, whether out of impatience or agitation Ilia could not tell. After a few moments, Ilia felt Myrna's hand on her thigh. She looked up to see her lover's face full of both pain and tenderness.

"Ilia," Myrna began, "Aela is..."

Just then they were interrupted by the redhead, who abruptly sat at their table and locked her gaze on the Dragonborn. "So," she said, "This is where you've been hiding yourself. We've missed you at Jorrvaskr, my love." She didn't sound particularly loving uttering the last two words.

"I imagine you're about the only person in Skyrim that can sneak up on me, especially when I've already seen you," Myrna said. Ilia glanced back and forth between the two of them. Myrna, usually so collected, seemed anything but; Aela was as steady as the wind in Winterhold. The redhead turned her gaze to Ilia, and her eyes were a mixture of icy coldness and barely subdued fire. "And who is your...friend?"

Myrna sighed audibly but seemed to regain her composure. "Aela, this is Ilia. Ilia, this is Aela." Ilia did her best to greet the newcomer politely, although a spike of fear shot through her stomach. 

"A pleasure," Ilia said. "How do you know each other?" With the question, Myrna's face fell once again while Aela's mouth curled into a little smirk.

"I'm surprised she hasn't mentioned me," Aela said. Ilia say that Myrna's eyes were closed. "I'm her wife." 

The hurt in Ilia's face was palpable. Aela took obvious pleasure from it. Myrna turned to the young conjurer, but Ilia would not meet her gaze. She looked instead at Aela, and said, "Well, I should probably leave you two alone. I'm sure you have plenty of catching up to do." She rose quickly, even as Myrna told her to stay. "No," she said. "I'll..." She trailed off and then walked quickly toward the bar.

Myrna looked at her erstwhile spouse. "Well, that was nicely done."

"She's right. We do have some catching up to do."

"Do we?"

"It's been months. I've heard nothing but rumors. Even that you've been in Whiterun on more than one occasion. Do I not even warrant a visit?"

"Aela, my involvement with the Companions was...beneficial. To everyone. None more so than myself. Kodlak Whitemane was a great man. A wise man. I learned a great deal from him, as I did from all of you. And it's where you belong. But it's not where I belong." 

"It is where you belong, my love. We share something much deeper than wedlock." Aela reached across and took Myrna's hand. "Your beast blood cries out to me. Do you not feel it?"

"Yeah, well...that was a mistake."

"A mistake that I see you have not yet taken from yourself, as you took it from Kodlak."

"At his request." 

"Well, we needn't rehash that. We didn't choose you on a whim, Myrna. The power to transform is an honor bestowed on very few, and only on those who are worthy, and whose soul speaks to us even before the blood is turned."

"And is it the beast blood that commands you, in the end? Or is it the honor you all so proudly wear on your sleeves? Your commitment to one another? Your use of might for justice? Is not the beast within you merely a means to those ends?"

"It is. I knew you understood," Aela smiled.

"I understand. But that honor is not something I share," said Myrna. How could Myrna explain to this most righteous of warriors the darkness that shrouded her soul, the bloodlust that had led her to accept the Companions' offer of lycanthropy? From the moment she'd slid her dagger into the brain of Valerian Tacitus, the taking of life was Myrna's overriding passion. While she strove to choose her victims from the less innocent of Tamriel's population, to do good where she could, the erotic charge she got from hurting, from killing, knew no bounds. Astrid had understood. Astrid had brought her to Sithis, before paying with her own life for her betrayal. But Aela? Aela lived for the hunt, yes, but always in the service of righteousness.

"Your actions lead me to agree with you on that," said Aela. "Yes, my commitment to the Companions runs deep. Deeper, I guess, than you'll ever know. But I would have followed you anywhere, regardless of the rest of them."

Myrna's heart ached for the pain she had caused her one-time love, and for the pain she knew Ilia was also feeling. "I know," she said lamely. "I never meant to hurt you."

"Getting hurt is the biggest part of life," Aela said. "But pain is fleeting. Pleasure doubly so." The redhead's eyes flashed quickly with an animal lust that struck deep into Myrna's body. The Dragonborn felt her hair begin prickle over every inch of her body. She knew she could barely contain herself. From the moment they'd met, Aela had had a power over the young Imperial maiden. That power beat very strongly just then. Myrna looked around the room and saw no sign of Ilia. Probably gone back to Proudspire Manor, she thought. Aela was already moving off toward the stairs. Myrna rose and followed almost against her will. Almost.

Once inside the room, Aela's perfectly chiseled nude body was too much to bear. Myrna fell on to the redhead ravenously, kissing and biting her lips with unrestrained fury. The only woman who could match Myrna in strength, Aela suddenly grabbed the younger girl's throat and started to choke her. Their eyes locked. "You know what I want," Aela said. "Give it to me." Myrna could feel her lungs begin to burn, the blood throbbing in her head and face as she turned redder and redder, eyes bulging. Still she would not give in to the transformation. Let it come, she told herself, as darkness began to fill her vision. And come it did. Just before passing out, her body lurched violently; even Aela's strong hands could barely hold on. Myrna's eyes turned first. Her thick black hair suddenly seemed to sprout not only from her head, but from her neck and back. Her face stretched and grew, and her limbs became impossibly long. Aela released her grip as spasms of pain wracked Myrna's nearly unrecognizable body. In a few more seconds, the transformation was complete. Myrna crouched before the foot of the bed, panting, a werewolf's body in place of the curvy female form she had until just moments ago inhabited.

Aela lay back, pulling her ankles up almost over her head, exposing herself to the beast she had just coaxed from Myrna's soul. Aela's eyes locked on the beast's. Her blood boiled; she too longed to transform, to share the heady lust she knew coursed through Myrna's veins. But the two of them transformed, Aela knew, would only result in a bloodbath for the rest of the Winking Skeever's denizens. As long as she stayed human, Aela could control Myrna. Barely.

Myrna's beastly form sniffed hungrily toward Aela's seductive pose. "That's it, my love," said the Huntress. "Come and get it." Suddenly Myrna pounced, burying her face in the redhead's smoothly shaved pussy. Her long animal tongue lapped greedily at the juices flowing from Aela's opening. Aela gasped in pleasure, keenly aware of the much greater versatility of this non-human tongue. It snaked inside her with the power and firmness of several fingers, but it's movements and feel were so unique. The pleasure Aela took from it was unlike anything else. No combination of fingers, tongues, cocks, or dildos had ever brought her to climaxes so powerful. She shuddered, grasping the back of the beast's head as she came violently. Myrna, her consciousness almost totally subsumed by the beast blood, was only dimly aware of her wife's pleasure. She craved only the heightened smell and taste of the slick, salty wetness that issued from Aela's engorged cunt. She licked feverishly, probing violently in and out of the redhead's pussy, occasionally exploring her asshole as well, which, when penetrated, drove Aela to even greater heights of ecstasy. The beast's stamina knew no bounds, her pace never slacked, as Aela succumbed to orgasm after orgasm at the hands of this animal. All the hurt and anger she'd stored up over the past months was washed away by wave upon wave of pulsating pleasure. For hours, as the beast blood pumped through Myrna's body, Aela came, every few minutes, until, her body exhausted and dripping with sweat, she began to feel Myrna's tongue change. Aela lifted her head and watched the animal before her slowly become human again.

As Myrna's consciousness returned, she stopped licking and smiled up at her erstwhile lover. Her face was covered in Aela's pussy juices, and her hand reached back to feel her own sopping cunt. She squeezed her clit between her labia and then crawled forward, up Aela's sweat-slick body, until they kissed deeply. Myrna sat up and gripped Aela's breasts in her hands, kneading them roughly. One hand slipped up toward the redhead's glistening throat, the other pinching a nipple violently. As her fingers closed around Aela's windpipe, she smiled cruelly. "My turn," she said, her clit throbbing as she watched her lover's face turn from red to purple.



Myrna and Ilia 04



Ilia had sat at the bar, watching her lover talking with the fierce-looking redhead. Her wife. The word still stung her heart. She felt like the biggest fool in Skyrim. While the married couple's meeting didn't seem to be proceeding particularly happily, Ilia found herself not caring about the particulars of their relationship. The fact that Myrna hadn't mentioned her marriage at all was enough to fill the young conjurer with a mixture of sadness and anger. As Myrna and Aela seemed to fall into deeper conversation, as the minutes dragged by without even a sidelong glance from Myrna toward the bar, Ilia decided that, as she had feared so often already in the short time they'd been lovers, that indeed it had been too good to be true, that the Dragonborn cared nothing for her, that she was merely being used toward some greater end of which she had no understanding. She finished her wine and stepped out into the cool night air of Solitude.

When Myrna awoke the next morning, her body sore from the transition she had undergone as well as from the endless series of orgasms her werewolf lover had given her, she wondered for a moment where she was, until the shock of red hair that lay across her breasts brought back the memory of the previous night. Aela, she thought, feeling equal parts tenderness and remorse. Well, whatever her misgivings, whatever her feelings for the woman beside, Myrna had already made up her mind. A night of lust and passion wasn't going to undo that. As stealthily as she could, and few in Tamriel were stealthier, she slipped her shoulder from beneath Aela's head and rolled silently out of bed. She could feel flickers of pleasure from her still-swollen clit as she moved. Looking at the beautiful form prone before her, she pinched her labia together briefly, until, her resolve finally solidified, she began to dress in the tavern clothes she'd come to favor in recent days. The Nightengale armor she usually wore, she'd realized, was not necessary for everyday living. Her skills had been honed such that she was confident in her ability to quickly kill anyone who threatened her with harm before any damage could be inflicted upon her. 

She'd just about packed everything when she heard Aela's voice behind her.

"Running out on me again?"

Myrna stiffened and cursed softly to herself under her breath. She turned to see Aela sitting naked on the foot of the bed. 

"Aela, I love you, and I respect you, and I care about you, and I have learned so much from you. But I cannot be with you. I cannot stay with you at Jorrvaskr, and I cannot ask you to abandon the Companions for me. I know you would willingly do so, but I also know, as do you, that it is with them that you belong. I have nothing else to say on the matter."

Aela hung her head, not because of the sense of loss she felt but because she knew her wife spoke the truth.

"You are right, my love. They are my shield-brothers and sisters, and my oath to them goes beyond whatever vows we took before Mara. I wish that you would stay with us, but your choices are not beholden to my desires."

"They're closer to doing so than you know," said Myrna, well aware from the tingling that still coursed through her groin that the sexual bliss she experienced with the gorgeous redhead was beyond anything she'd felt before. But sex was not her only passion. And then there was Ilia. Ilia needed her. Aela needed only the honor of battle, the thrill of the hunt. She was complete. Ilia, wounded, fragile, alone, was a battered soul. Myrna had almost marveled at the ways the former witch had healed and grown in their short time together, her confidence and capabilities increasing almost by the day.

Myrna walked to the edge of the bed and reached out for Aela's hand. The Huntress took it and rose. The two lovers locked eyes, exchanging feelings beyond words. Myrna leaned in and kissed the redhead tenderly, then turned, hoisted her large pack and bow onto her back, and was gone.

The morning air, still shrouded in shadow from Solitude's tall walls and towers, had lost little of its chill. Myrna hurried to Proudspire Manor, her house in the city, in hopes that Ilia would have returned there. Her housecarl, whose name escaped Myrna, opened the door.

"My thane," said the young blonde, whose girlish appearance belied her skill with a sword. 

"Jordan, is it?"

"Jordis, my thane."

"Sorry. I haven't spent as much time here as I would like to. I hope your duties haven't been too...uneventful."

"It's been my pleasure. To not have to endure the barracks? This is more than a treat, even if I haven't been able to really serve you."

"Yet. Your time may come. My friend, Ilia. Did she return last night?"

"I did not see or hear her if she did. And I would have."

"That's what I was afraid of. Well, in that case, I must be off."

"Can I help you find her?" Jordis asked eagerly.

"No. Thank you, but no. Please continue to enjoy the run of the manor. I hope you're using the big bed upstairs, not the cot in the basement."

"I did not think it was my place to do so, thane."

"Well, it is now. I hope we can get to know each other better when next I'm in Solitude. Until then."

"Until then, my thane."

What a sweet little thing, thought Myrna as she headed for the city gates. Gods, I'm a slut. She smiled, chagrined at how easily a pretty face triggered that sparkly feeling in her nether regions. Well, she would have to wait until she found Ilia to satisfy her. 

The guards hadn't seen anyone fitting Ilia's description leave the city since they'd come on duty at dawn, which meant she'd left in the night, and so had something like an eight-hour advantage on Myrna. The Dragonborn tried to put herself in Ilia's place, no doubt angry, confused, and heartbroken. Not particularly social even when she was in a good state of mind, Ilia did not strike Myrna as one who would head toward another city or town. But nor, Myrna thought, would she seek refuge in a cave, for, despite her ability to handle herself, her confidence at the moment was probably shattered. Myrna paused at the crossroads, one path heading downhill toward the docks, the other west, to Dragonbridge and, further on, Markarth. Dragonbridge had a little inn that Ilia could have reached with just a couple hours' quick march. But she would never head to Markarth. Myrna wished she had Aela with her; the Huntress could track almost anyone. Not that Myrna's skills lacked much in that area, but they were of no use here. It was a rare moment of indecision for the intrepid Imperial maiden. She cursed herself for the way she'd handled Aela's unexpected appearance the night before.

Unbeknownst to the Dragonborn, Ilia had not gone far. She'd paused in the night at the very spot where Myrna stood, wondering where to go. The plaintive toll of a bell from the docks below had given her the answer: as far away as possible, as quickly as possible. Though late, the busiest docks in Skyrim still showed some signs of life. Three ships were berthed; four more sat at anchorage further out. The first ship Ilia approached seemed deserted. At the next, a surly Nord guarding the gangway accosted her.

"Shouldn't be down here alone at night, missy," he grunted, the ample quantities of mead he'd consumed weighing heavy on his tongue.

"Because of drunken idiots like you?"

"What's going on down there, Grund?" called another voice from the deck.

"A sharp-tongued wench is what," the Nord replied. A sinister-looking Argonian, more sinister than most even, peered over the rail.

"We could use a wench," the Argonian hissed.

"That's what I was thinking," Grund said, moving toward Ilia at the same moment the Argonian swung over the rail and landed gracefully on the dock behind her. Before she could react, the cool-skinned reptilian had pinned her arms behind her. Grund walked up to her and pulled her hood back, exposing her face to the moonlight. He smiled none too pleasantly.

"Aye, she'll do us nicely for a spell," he said. They were the last words his lips would utter. A bolt of electricity leapt from Ilia's hand, blasting the Argonian behind her into the air. Grund, in his drunken state, fumbled for his sword. He'd had just enough time to get a good grip on its hilt when the blade of Ilia's axe sliced into the side of his neck. The Nord would have died in a minute from blood loss; as it was, his nearly-severed spinal column ended his suffering even more quickly. He was dead before he landed on the planks of the dock with a thud, almost at the moment the Argonian splashed into the water. The whole thing had taken perhaps two seconds.

"I don't have enough crewmembers to be sparing them like that," said a woman's voice from the ship up above. Ilia looked up to see a Redguard, a bow drawn tautly in her hands, the arrow aimed right at Ilia's throat.

"I don't think this one will be hard to replace," said Ilia, gesturing contemptuously toward the corpse at her feet. "The Argonian's probably still alive." Indeed he was, for almost at that instant he clambered up a piling onto the dock and drew his sword.

"Shall I kill her, Kalissah?" he hissed.

"No," said the Reguard quietly, loosing her arrow. Ilia froze in terror, waiting for the split second before her death, realizing only after it had happened that the arrow had whizzed past her head and buried itself in the Argonian's forehead. 

"Never trusted that one anyway," Kalissah said, her bow now lowered.

"Well, if it's crew you need, I'm available," Ilia said, hoping her voice didn't betray the pounding in her heart.

"You have any experience on a ship?" Kalissah asked.

"No."

"What can you offer?"

"Magicka. Destruction and healing especially."

"Not bad with an axe, either."

"No, not bad," said Ilia, suddenly thinking of the woman who'd taught her how to use it, wondering if Myrna had even noticed if she was gone yet.

"What makes you want to get on a ship?"

"I need a change of scenery," Ilia said.

"Well, we're a fair-sized ship with a small crew. That means we work both hard and smart. We're honest traders. Doesn't seem like anyone else is. Between the East Empire Company and Gods knows how many pirates out there, there's plenty of trouble. The Morning Star's a quick one, though. Haven't been run down too often and whoever's managed it lived just long enough to regret it. I expect you'll be handy if it comes to that. We're heading for High Rock with the tide. Life on the seas isn't for everyone. My money says you'll want off by the time we get there. If not, you're welcome to stay. Come aboard."

"My name's Ilia," the Nord woman said as she stepped onto the deck.

"Kalissah," replied the Redguard. "Pleasure."

"I hope so," said Ilia, almost without thinking. She looked away as the Redguard's glance caught her eyes.

"Come," Kalissah said, and led Ilia below decks. "Those two shared a berth. I guess it's yours now."

Ilia, naturally shy and reserved, was suddenly overcome with a boldness driven by her anger towards Myrna.

"Kalissah," she said tenderly, vulnerably, reaching out and stroking the Redguard's arm. "I'd rather not be alone tonight."

Kalissah laughed. "It's not so bad as all that, is it?" she asked in a playful tone. "Well, I'm always up for a romp. I'm sure my husband won't mind. If you're...amenable."

Ilia hadn't counted on that, but it made it all the sweeter as far as she was concerned. She only wished Myrna could somehow watch, to see how easily Ilia could move on. "Of course," said Ilia with a smile that betrayed none of the sudden nervousness she felt creeping over her. The continued a few doors down until Kalissah threw open a door into a decently-sized room. A large Redguard man slept soundly on the bed. Kalissah kicked his leg roughly. "Wake up, Bergin," she said. "Meet Ilia. New crewmember."

Bergin rose groggily, his eyes struggling to focus through the sleep that still clouded his brain. When they finally did, he saw his wife kissing a beautiful, pale Nord girl. He could feel his member begin to swell instantly.

At the touch of Kalissah's lips, Ilia felt a rush of remorse. She wanted to pull away, to run, off the ship, back up the hill to Solitude, to Myrna. What was she doing here? As the Redguard woman's tongue darted into her mouth, she felt another mouth on her neck, strong hands wrapping around her upper arms. In a moment, she wasn't quite sure how, her robes were on the floor around her ankles. Bergin's enormous hands grasped her breasts roughly, pinching the nipples through the thin fabric that still covered them. Still kissing her with what felt to Ilia like an especially warm and wet mouth, Kalissah slipped her hand down the waistline of Ilia's panties and slid a finger effortlessly into Ilia's already-wet and hungry cunt. 

Ilia felt as if she wasn't really there; that what was happening was happening only to her body, that she herself was somewhere else in the room, watching these two coffee-skinned warriors explore their new crewmember.

Bergin, already mostly nude, quickly shed the loose trousers that covered his lower half. Ilia could feel his rock-hard prick press between his stomach and her back as he continued to fondle her breasts. Two sets of hands began to push her down toward the floor, slowly but firmly. She dropped to her knees, breaking the lock Kalissah's lips had on her own. Kalissah stepped back and began to strip out of her leather armor while Bergin slid around into her place, his cock right in Ilia's face. Knowing it was too late to turn back now, Ilia simply abandoned whatever inhibitions her growing lust had left to her, and wrapped her lips around the head of what by any measure was an enormous phallus, and was much the biggest the young Nord had ever seen in her limited experience with men. Bergin thrust forward, and Ilia could feel her lips stretch tautly to accommodate his massive girth. He was not even halfway inside her mouth when she gagged and pulled back. Kalissah now joined her on the floor in front of Bergin. She chuckled and licked at the thick saliva that clung to Ilia's chin.

"Go easy, my husband. She's no doubt unused to such a magnificent specimen," she said, and then easily sunk the erect cock deep down her throat in one steady, gradual movement. She moaned in ecstasy as Bergin grabbed the back of head, pushing his shaft even further into her mouth and holding her there until she began to struggle for breath. As he released his grip, she looked over at the astonished Nord and smiled.

"See, my dear? It's not so big as all that." The two women took turns sucking on the massive erection, Kalissah swallowing every inch, Ilia trying to make up for her shortcomings with vigorous ministrations of her tongue on the underside of the head. After several minutes, Bergin moved toward the bed and lay on his back. Kalissah straddled him and let her own weight fall onto the rigid shaft of her husband's dick. She gasped as he filled her, then started to slowly grind onto him, moving her hips in a circular manner. She reached out for Ilia's hand and then gently pulled her around so that she was standing next to Bergin's head, facing Kalissah. Ilia hesitantly climbed onto the bed, straddling Bergin's face while Kalissah began to rub her erect nipples. Suddenly Bergin's strong arms pulled her down onto him and his powerful tongue mashed against Ilia's clit. The joint stimulation on her pussy and breasts brought her to climax within a minute, Kalissah kissing her just as her moans turned to cries that disappeared into the Redguard woman's mouth. 

"Switch places with me," Kalissah said as Ilia's orgasm subsided. "I want him to see which of us tastes sweeter."

"Be gentle," said Ilia, as she positioned the head of Bergin's shaft into her sopping hole.

Bergin smiled. "I'm not sure who's gonna be sweeter, but I know she's gonna be tighter, my love," he said. In response, Kalissah lowered her asshole onto his mouth instead of her pussy, giving him no choice but to lick it. Her didn't seem to mind too much, distracted as he was by the way Ilia's pussy gripped his cock as he slowly slid inside her. Ilia felt herself stretch to accommodate his monster cock; painful at first, she found that if she controlled the movements and lowered herself onto him, bit by bit, it gave her a very pleasant sensation of fullness. Only when Bergin tried to push upwards did the pain become too much, and then Ilia would lift herself up. After a few of these instances, Bergin let the Nord go at her own pace. Kalissah began to rub her pussy as her husband's tongue swirled around her asshole, and she kept her eyes focused on the pretty face of the pale girl before her, enjoying the contrast between her husband's dark skin and Ilia's whiteness. She could see the pleasure and pain intermingling in Ilia's expressions, and envied the girl her first experience with Bergin's massive member. She smiled as she recalled her own first time, remembering how small her hand had seemed wrapped around the smooth, dark shaft, how she had come even before he was all the way inside her. 

As Ilia began to slide up and down, her cunt greedily expanding to accept this new, enormous visitor, Kalissah reached behind her head and pulled the Nord toward her, their mouths meeting eagerly. The two women kissed passionately as each ground down on the man underneath them. Kalissah's hands alternated between Ilia's breasts and her own pussy, until Ilia began to moan more loudly. Then Kalissah concentrated on the Nord girl's nipples, pinching and rubbing them, occasionally gripping her whole breasts and kneading them roughly. As Ilia began to feel another orgasm building inside her she started to buck her hips wildly, moving herself around the giant cock that impaled her. When she screamed, Kalissah pinched her nipples viscously, the pain distracting Ilia just enough that her orgasm didn't quite reach its peak, but instead kept lashing her with waves of agonizing pleasure as Bergin thrust upwards into her still more deeply. 

Exhausted, Ilia climbed off the giant cock. Bergin grabbed his wife and roughly threw her to the bed, entering her from behind with long and rapid strokes. For Kalissah, the sensation, as always when her husband's cock really got going, was intense. She came quickly without any additional stimulation. Ilia watched for a few moments, admiring the muscular frame of the Redguard man, enjoying the clinching of his buttocks as he pounded his cock deep into the eager black pussy in front of him. Rubbing her own cunt, Ilia crawled between Bergin's legs and lay on her back. First she held her tongue against the base of his cock, enjoying the salty taste of Kalissah's juices that coated the rigid shaft. Then she eased herself a few inches further onto the bed, and began to lap hungrily at Kalissah's throbbing clit. This threw the Redguard woman over the edge, and she writhed and cried out with another, even more intense, climax. Just as hers subsided, her husband let loose with a violent ejaculation deep into Kalissah. As his spurts began to let up, he pulled out, dripping the last of his cum onto Ilia's waiting tongue. Her appetite whetted, the Nord buried herself into Kalissah's open hole, reveling in the salty mixture of semen and pussy juice that flowed into her mouth. 

She swallowed what she could, her hand still working her clit. Bergin, still mostly hard, slid his cock into Ilia's cunt and gave several hard thrusts until the Nord came one more time. She looked up to see the two Redguards kissing passionately. Suddenly Kalissah's wet slit was on Ilia's mouth again, while Kalissah's went to all fours to take her husband into her mouth. Bergin, already close to coming again, slammed away at his wife's throat, treating it as roughly as he had treated her pussy a few minutes before. With the massive cock pounding at her throat and the Nord girl's tongue slurping back and forth from her pussy to her clit, Kalissah came again, her throat opening up even more as she did. Feeling his wife's convulsions, Bergin drove his cock as deep as it could go, his wife's lips straining against his waist and his scrotum as he felt hot jets of semen escape into his wife's willing throat. Kalissah swung around and began to kiss Ilia, dripping what cum she hadn't already swallowed into the Nord's mouth. Bergin, sated, tumbled over them both and lay down heavily on the far side of the bed. Kalissah and Ilia kissed wetly for several more minutes, neither wanting the revelry to end but both sore and satisfied. Finally, Kalissah tumbled into her husband's arms, her ass pressed into his crotch. Ilia in turn lay on her side facing Kalissah, their breasts mashed together, their lips still locking from time to time. But soon all three were asleep, the warmth of their bodies and the lingering pleasure of their orgasms lulling them into the dream world.




Myrna and Ilia 04



Ilia awoke with a start from a nightmare in which a horde of draugr had cornered her. Myrna, laughing, stood looking on from a distance. Ilia felt the icy hands of the undead upon her and then gasped, opening her eyes to see the interior of the little room on board Kalissah's ship. Bergin and Kalissah were gone. Ilia pulled the blanket over her chilled body and curled into a fetal position. She could feel tears welling in her eyes.



Myrna and Ilia 05



Myrna had just decided Dragonbridge was her best bet to find Ilia, or at least news of her, when four Solitude guards came hurrying down the hill past her, turning toward the docks. "May as well see what that's all about," she said to herself, following them at a slight distance. They headed for a small crowd that was gathered toward the far end of the dock. Myrna stopped on the staircase that descended toward the water; from her elevated vantage point she could see a body lying lifeless on the wooden planks. Several guardsmen were gathered around, as well as what she assumed were a contingent of sailors from the ship. 

"A ship," she suddenly thought. "Of course." She hurried down the rest of the stairs and approached the group.

"I've already told this gentleman here what happened," Myrna overheard. The voice was Kalissah's.

"And I've already told you, I'm the captain of the guard on duty, and you'll tell me," said one of the guards.

"Two of my crew had too much mead and got quarrelsome with each other. The Argonian put an axe in Grund here. I told him to put it down and he said something threatening. Fearing for my safety, I put an arrow into him, and he fell into the water and sank. Send someone down there, I'm sure you can find him."

Myrna could hear the tone of the conversation remain something less than friendly, but she stopped listening to the words themselves. With everyone focused on the Redguard woman and the captain of the guard, Myrna silently flung herself through the air, grasping on the gunwale with both hands. She quickly pulled herself up onto the deck. A few sailors stood watching the conversation below. Myrna crept behind them into the cabin, and quickly dropped down a short staircase, careful to avoid hitting her head. She peaked quickly into a handful of doors, then heard a quiet sob. Moving toward where she thought the noise had come from, she pushed the door open without a sound. Ilia was curled up on the bed, unaware that the woman she longed to see was right there in front of her. Myrna took three silent steps across the room and softly whispered, "Ilia," at the same time as she gently ran her hand over the Nord's soft hair.

Ilia looked up, and in her heart she was overjoyed to see her lover before her. But she did not let it show on her face, giving instead a look of contempt. "Why don't you just leave me alone, you bitch?" she almost spat, the conflicting emotions that welled inside of her giving rise to heavier tears. 

"I deserve that," Myrna said. "But I won't leave you alone. Come on. We'll get it all worked out. Let's get off this thing." 

"I'm not going anywhere with you," Ilia said through her tears. "Isn't that trampy little wife of yours enough for you?"

"That trampy little wife of mine is probably the most capable warrior in Skyrim, myself excepted. Besides, she's not the trampy one. I am. That's not the point. Please, Ilia. Let's just get off the ship and I'll explain everything."

Ilia knew she would go with the raven-locked Imperial. She wasn't sure what she'd been thinking trying to leave her behind in the first place. But her anger wouldn't allow her to give in so easily. "I know exactly how dangerous you are, Dragonborn," she said, issuing the title as an insult. "But Gods help me, if you don't turn around and walk away from me this instant, I'm going to unleash every ounce of destructive power I can muster at you. You might wind up killing me but by the Nine I'm going to make you hurt!"

"I'm right here," said Myrna, without a hint of malice or fear in her voice. "If that's what you want to do, I won't stop you." Ilia closed her eyes. She knew she was defeated.

"Fine. Let me put my clothes on," Ilia said, throwing the sheets off and making a point of her nakedness. That this was clearly someone else's room was not lost on the Dragonborn, but she said nothing, and merely watched the lithe figure of the beautiful Nord girl dress.

In part from her distraction, and in part from the silence with which the Redguard moved, Myrna had no idea Bergin had crept up behind her until his knife was at her throat.

"What are you doing on this ship, stranger?" he said, confident enough in his advantage to feel that any warnings about not moving were entirely superfluous. Ilia was the first to speak.

"Bergin, put the knife down," she said quietly.

"Because you know her?" he asked.

"Because she'll kill you." Bergin had a hard time believing that, the situation being what it was, but something in Ilia's tone told him she knew something that he didn't about the slatternly-dressed woman whose throat he knew—or thought he knew--he could slash from ear to ear in a split-second. He removed his knife and took a step back.

"Well," he said with playful admiration, trying to defuse the situation but also not entirely joking, "She's got a hell of a fine figure, anyway. We had a fine time last night with the Nord. Be a sight finer still with a fourth."

Myrna shot him a withering glance. "I might kill you yet," she said, without bothering to put any menace into her voice. "Come on, Ilia." She brushed roughly past Bergin into the passageway. As Ilia followed, Bergin gently put his hand on her arm. She shook her head at him and said softly, "Don't." 

On deck, the gangway was just being pulled aboard. Kalissah saw her new crewmember closely following what looked like a common tavern wench, apart from the fierce-looking ebony axe that dangled from her hip. She stepped over quickly to see what was going on.

"Ilia?" she asked.

"I'm sure you're trying to make what's left of the tide," Myrna said. "I don't mean to cause you any delay, but if you could kindly lower the gangway again, we won't trouble you anymore."

Ilia was always surprised at the amount of persuasiveness Myrna could lace into her words. Kalissah motioned to another crew member, and a few seconds later the wooden plank was in place again.

"I take it this is who you were running away from," Kalissah said to Ilia. "You don't have to go."

"I want to," Ilia said. "It's ok. Thank you for everything."

Kalissah bowed slightly as if to say it had been her pleasure. It certainly had been, after all. "We dock here pretty often. You might find us in Dawnstar or Windhelm as well. I'll have a place for you if you want it."

Ilia smiled a little smile at her and then followed her true love down onto the dock.

"Sounds like you had an interesting evening," Myrna said playfully as they climbed the stairs up toward the road.

"Didn't you?" Ilia shot back, unamused.

"I did," Myrna admitted somewhat ruefully. They turned toward Dragonbridge and walked on in silence for nearly an hour. "How about we stop and eat something," Myrna finally said.

"Fine," Ilia said sharply, tossing her pack to the ground. Myrna took some food from her bag and handed an apple and a sweet roll to the Nord woman. The ate in silence.

"How long are we going to do this?" Myrna asked.

"Until I'm not furious at you anymore," Ilia nearly yelled.

"Ilia," Myrna said, moving closer and putting a hand on the Nord's knee. She waited until Ilia looked up and met her gaze. "I'm very sorry for what happened last night. Aela and I...we have." She paused. "I don't know how to say it. A very deep connection."

"Really? Yes, that's one way to describe marriage."

"No, it's much deeper than that. I don't know exactly how to tell you this. I guess I'll just have to say it. Aela and I are...werewolves." 

"What?"

"Were-"

"I heard you. What does that mean, werewolves?"

"I mean we're actually, physically, able to transform into werewolves."

"I've been around you during full moons, Myrna. You've never turned into a werewolf."

"It doesn't work like that. I can do it at will. Or, if I'm at the brink of death, it just happens on it's own. Like a last-ditch defense."

Ilia stared at her lover, unbelieving. "Show me," she finally said."

"If I transform, I'll kill you. I'm not myself when I let the beast blood take over. I can recognize the blood in Aela, and she in me, so we won't harm each other, but even then it's a near thing."

"Wouldn't you just recognize that she was a werewolf too?"

"Well, we don't...transform at the same time, unless we're in the heat of battle or something."

It suddenly dawned on Ilia what Myrna was saying. "Oh, Gods. You mean one of you...oh!" She was simultaneously horrified and, she had to admit to herself, more than a little aroused.

"I know," said Myrna. "It's...not exactly something I'm proud of. But here's what I'm getting at really. I don't want that connection anymore. I have something much better, much more important to me. I have you."

Ilia began to tear up. "Oh, Myrna...I thought I was going to die from heartbreak last night."

"I know. I'm so sorry, my love."

Ilia threw her arms around the Dragonborn and cried into her shoulder, her chest heaving with deep, violent sobs. Myrna held her close until her crying subsided.

"Didn't stop you from having some fun, though," Myrna said, wiping the tears from Ilia's cheeks.

"I just wanted to get back at you."

"Ilia, I don't really care who you fuck. I've never made any claims of possession on your body."

"How can you not care, if you love me?"

"Because I love you, I want you to be happy. And if going to bed with someone else makes you happy, then by all means do so."

"Well, it didn't make me happy," Ilia snapped. "It made me feel dirty and cruel and stupid!" 

"You're none of those things, my dear. I think you might be a bit slutty, but frankly that just makes me love you a little more."

"Do you love me, Myrna? Really?"

"I do, Ilia."

"And I you. I guess...I shouldn't care who you sleep with either, really. But I do."

"That's ok. I'm sorry I hurt you. Look, we're gonna break that connection between Aela and me. I can cure myself of the beast blood."

"I won't ask you to. That's part of who you are, I suppose. It's not my place to make you give that up."

"You're not making me," said Myrna. "There's some danger though. What do you know about the Glenmoril witches?"

"That they're horribly vicious. Why?"

"I need one of their heads. Apparently they're the ones that put some sort of curse on the Companions many years ago. Well, it's a bit more complicated than that, but in any case, I need a head. Then we take it to Ysgramor's tomb up on the north coast, east of Dawnstar. There I can call forth my wolf spirit, and then we kill it, and then no more werewolf. And then you don't have to worry about Aela ever again."

"Why did you marry her?"

"Well...when I first came to Skyrim, she sort of took me under her wing. Coming as I was from my...relationship...with Liana, it just sort of felt natural. Older woman, younger me. She taught me a lot, helped me open myself up to my powers and my destiny. I wouldn't be the warrior I am without her. Besides that, did you get a look at her?"

"She is gorgeous," Ilia admitted. 

"She's got nothing on you," said Myrna, leaning in to kiss her young Nord lover. "And I mean that. Now let's get going; we can probably make it Rorikstead by nightfall if we hurry. I want you in a nice soft bed tonight."

It was an uneventful journey, though well after dark when the two women reached the Frostfruit Inn in the small village on the far western edge of Whiterun Hold. As eager as they both were to make love, the hunger in their stomachs was even more pressing. They took a corner table; Myrna always preferred her back to a wall whenever possible in public situations, and tucked into a bottle of alto wine, some rolls, and salmon steaks. As they ate, Ilia noticed Myrna watching her rather closely.

"What," she finally said, smiling.

"I was just..." Myrna trailed off.

"Just what?" Ilia insisted.

"Well, last night...you, uh...both of them?"

Ilia laughed. "Yes."

"How was that?"

"I already told you."

"Well, yeah, but...but how was it?"

"It was pretty spectacular," Ilia conceded. "That dark skin really turned me on. And his cock! Gods, I thought he would split me in two!"

Myrna made a sort of a noncommittal face.

"You're a little curious, aren't you?" Ilia asked playfully.

"I guess I am," Myrna said. "A little."

"I'm sure one of these fine gentlemen would be willing to join us," Ilia said, gesturing toward the assorted riff-raff gathered about the greatroom of the inn.

Myrna snorted with laughter. "First off, I'll trust myself to be more discriminating. IF the time ever comes. Second, I don't want anybody but you tonight, my dear."

"Speaking of anybody but me, if I might...you don't have any other, I don't know, girlfriends out there, do you?"

"Do you really want to have this conversation?"

"Well, I know I'm not the first person you've been with...what am I up against?"

"You're not up against anything, Ilia. I love you. But, since you asked..."

"I knew it," Ilia said. But she found her heart racing a bit to hear, and the jealousy she'd felt so strongly the night before seemed to have melted away.

"Well, obviously, the girls back in Cyrodiil. When I first got here, even before I met Aela, I was given a housecarl in Whiterun when I became a thane there. Her name was Lydia. She was killed, actually. I fell in with Aela not long after that. I was actually pretty broken up about her death, and more than a little vulnerable. I've got a housecarl in Riften named Iona who was...accompanying me just before I met you."

"And that little blonde thing in Solitude, right?"

"Haven't had her yet."

"Yet?"

"She's cute, isn't she?"

Ilia had to admit that she was.

"Perhaps the three of us, someday..."

Ilia made a face that said, "Perhaps." Myrna reached for the bottle of wine and refilled Ilia's cup, and then her own.

"A lot of housecarls," Ilia said. "How does that work? You just order them to get naked and then have your way?"

Myrna chuckled. "I suppose if it came to that...But really, Ilia, just look at me. It doesn't take a lot of convincing," she joked.

"You're an arrogant little whore, aren't you?" Ilia said with a grin.

"I'm the Dragonborn," Myrna winked. She leaned in and ran her tongue around the inside of Ilia's ear and then whispered, "But I'll your little whore."

It would have been no secret to the few who noticed them hurry from the room what they were rushing off to do, their hands already reaching for indecent places. Ilia cast her robes off in one swift motion, her panties following immediately, even before Myrna had closed the door behind them. They tumbled onto the bed, Myrna still clothed and on top. She swung around, facing away from Ilia, and backed herself onto the Nord's face. Ilia was surprised to see that she wasn't wearing any panties, but didn't stop to think about it too much. She pulled Myrna's skirt up a bit higher and sighed as the nubile Imperial's saltiness filled her mouth. Myrna mashed her tongue into her lover's clit, flicking it back and forth with an expert's touch while pressing back onto Ilia's tongue as it thrust in and out of her. Ilia grasped the supple leather of Myrna's boots as they rested on either side of head, the touch of them heightening her pleasure as she strained to fill her lover with as much of her tongue as she could. Feeling the slickness of the walls of Myrna's pussy squeezing her tongue sent sparkles of pleasure coursing through Ilia's body, and the Dragonborn's talent at cunnilingus was more than a match for her pulsating clitoris. Ilia's hips bucked upward as she came, simultaneously pulling Myrna back onto her even harder. As her face was enveloped by the Imperial's smooth flesh, her nose pressing into Myrna's asshole, she felt her orgasm intensify. 

When the waves of pleasure finally stopped flowing and her body relaxed, Myrna swung off of her, undoing her top to reveal her full, rounded breasts, her large brown areoles standing in sharp contrast to the paleness of the rest of her skin. Ilia sat up and took as much as she could of Myrna's left tit into her mouth, feverishly sucking at it as if it was her only hope for survival. Myrna grasped Ilia's head and pushed her tit further into the Nord's willing wet mouth. The sensation drove Myrna wild, and for the pleasure it brought her, Ilia might as well have been tonguing her clit. Myrna knew her turn would come, but, driven in part by her guilt over the previous night, she wanted to concentrate on pleasuring her young mate. She pulled roughly on Ilia's hair, jerking her head back and freeing her nipple from the succulent young mouth that had just encased it. Bending her head down and tilting Ilia's up, Myrna kissed the Nord strongly, and then pushed her back onto the bed. Ilia's wetness flowed visibly from between her swollen labia, and Myrna wasted no time in slipping two fingers inside. Ilia squirmed as Myrna curled her fingers forward, pressing firmly on the front wall of Ilia's sopping cunt. She kept up the pressure as she began to move slightly in and out, gradually increasing her pace until she was rubbing furiously, bringing Ilia's to another climax. 

Without removing her hand, Myrna added her other two fingers, her eyes locked on Ilia's. Tender love commingled with a filthy desire as their eyes communicated what no words were needed to express. As Ilia's moisture coated Myrna's hand, the Dragonborn added her thumb, stretching her partner's opening. "Was the Redguard's cock that big?" Myrna asked. Ilia could only shake her head; the feeling of her lover's fist inside her was almost overwhelming. As her cunt adjusted to the fullness of Myrna's stationary hand, Ilia began to push against it, slowly at first and then gradually building her pace. "Lie still," whispered the Imperial, her green eyes flashing beautifully in the dim candlelight. She began to pump her fist in and out of Ilia's engorged pussy, never taking it all the way out, the slickness of Ilia's pussy juices allowing it to slide almost effortlessly back and forth. Ilia couldn't believe the sensation of fullness she was experiencing. She had thought the enormous black dick that had pummeled her the night before had been the limit of what she could take, but the way her cunt stretched around her lover's entire hand was taking her to new heights of ecstasy. 

Suddenly Ilia felt Myrna's other hand began to rub her clit, and the orgasm that hit her two seconds later was almost blinding in its intensity. Her entire body convulsed as her eyes rolled back into her head. The moans she usually issued when she came turned instead to guttural grunts as she struggled to even breathe. Myrna didn't slacken her pace with either hand, and she looked on with satisfaction at the contortions of Ilia's face as she continued to climax. For the Nord, the length and power of the orgasm became an ordeal, and she honestly felt for several seconds as if she was about to die. She almost hoped she would; to leave the world in the throes of such pleasure would be, she thought, the best possible death. But at last her cunt stopped spasming, and Myrna's hand dropped away from her now-tender clit. The fist remained within her, though, the heat that pulsed between pussy and hand locking the two women into a sort of trance-like state, each feeling as if they were an intimate part of the other's body.

"You've never looked more beautiful, Ilia," Myrna said finally. 

"I've never felt so beautiful," the Nord replied. 

"This is going to hurt a little," Myrna said, gradually pulling her hand back from deep inside her lover. The suction caused by the tightness and the wetness of Ilia's pussy refused to easily release this new instrument of love. Ilia gasped as finally there was an audible popping noise and Myrna's hand slid from Ilia's grasp. Myrna licked seductively at her fingers, and then offered her hand to Ilia. The taste of her own juices on her lover's hand seemed among the sweetest tastes she had ever experienced, and she sucked hungrily at Myrna's fingers for several minutes until the Dragonborn suddenly straddled her face. She could feel the strength of Myrna's hands and they grasped the back of her head, pushing her mouth roughly onto her lover's cunt. Bucking her hips, Myrna's roughly rode Ilia's face, bringing herself to orgasm in what seemed like both women to be no time at all. Their sweat-covered bodies collapsed onto the bed next to each other, the two lovers softly kissing the rest of their passion away and gradually sinking into sleep.