0 comments/ 14608 views/ 0 favorites The Nightingale By: TroubleZ4u Tonight was different than any other night. I did my last minute errands before the sun went down, had dinner, and headed off to watch a friend, who's a jockey at the local radio station. Oh, I'm Lehua, Lei to most of my friends, if it matters; I'm Hawaiian, Japanese, Filipino, 5'6", average built, and lesbian. Before it was my friends' time to go on the air, I watched as the beautiful 'Nightingale' * that's her radio name by the way, her real name is Asia *, did her stuff on the radio. I gazed upon her through the glass window, not knowing what she's saying. Her long black hair, small puffy lips, her round eyes with just a slight slant in them, and just a hint of freckles on the top of her cheeks. I smiled and thought if there were one Asian out there who'd be the right person for, she'd be it. She looked up and smiled at me and motioned me to come into the station. I walked in and sat in the seat next to her. She gave me a kiss on the cheek and nice warm hug. I could feel her skin burning against mine. I stayed quiet the whole time while she was on the air, and all the while she had her hand on my thigh. She cracked some jokes, made fun of men * her specialty *, and we laughed. By the time her set was up, she looked at me with a wicked smile. She motioned my friend, saying that it was his time for his set. She took my hand and led me to a place I've never been in the building. As we walked through a bunch of doors she squeezed the life out of my hand. I could the intensity running through my body, not knowing what may happen in the next few minutes. We came upon the last door. She opened it. And inside there was a small bed with a folded blanket and pillow, a nightstand, and an alarm clock. "What is this place?" I asked in a whisper. She took both my hands in hers and led me to the bed, "Well this place is usually used for owner. He stays here only when he's lost track of time and too tired to go home. I only know of this place because I helped him and a couple of other guys put the bed in." She said with a wicked grin. I felt as if she was lying, but I didn't care. I looked up at her staring down at me. She reached to unbutton my shirt and I began to unbutton hers, and as she did, she kissed me hard on the lips. As our wildly danced, she pushed me down. She straddled me with one swift movement of her leg, and all the while still kissing me, and still trying to undress me. I rolled us around so I was on top, and I broke the kiss. With both of us out of breath, I looked deep into her eyes, and all I saw was lust. I gently caressed my hand from her cheek, down between the valley of her breast, over her stomach, reaching the buttons of her jeans. My fingers opened up the buttons and zipped down her zipper, I leaned over and left a trail of kisses down her stomach. I heard her moan at the touch my lips. Her skin was hotter than fire, and her moans were pure lust. I pulled her jeans off, and saw that her underwear was drenched for her own juices. I rolled down her under, and saw the most beautiful pussy I've seen in a while. Her pussy was lightly trimmed and wet. She lifted her knees, and I could see it glistening with juices ready for me to lick all that clean. "Please hurry, I need to cum…I need you NOW!" She said with lust in her voice. I slid my finger up and slightly grazed her clit. I could see the pleasure in her face as I did this. She gave a slight moan of satisfaction. I moved my head between the legs, I moistened my tongue, and placed my at the bottom end and licked my way up. "Aaaahhhh Mmmnnnnn", was all I could hear from her. I slid a couple fingers into her. She moved her hips in the same rhythm as my hand. I nibbled on her outer lips, and flicking her clit from time to time. "Ooohhhhh Myyyyy Paaahleaazzee YESSSSSS!" she moaned louder. I could tell that she was going to cum any minute. So I sucked her clit hard. And that was it. Her hips started bucking and her body started shaking, and this point she was yelling "YESSSSSSSS YESSSSSS MMMMMMNNNNN" With her clit still clamped between my lips and fingers still buried in her pussy, I still could feel her shuddering against not as strong though. She pushed my head away and pulled me up on top of her with whatever strength she had left and kissed me. She had this satisfied/sleepy look on her face. " Damn, I was so horny! You came at the right time." She said and got up to put on her cloths. "Because if you hadn't come, it would've been some other person." She said as she bent down to kiss me on my forehead. I sat there flabbergasted not knowing what else to say and watched her leave the room. I looked around the room and thought, was I lucky? Or was I just there at the right time, the right place, with a nymph... The Nightingale DING DONG! The hideously loud noise sounded again, renewing an attempt to crushing his skull. Ronald tried to sit up, but his stomach was cramped. After another night on a twenty-year-old mattress that sagged in the middle like a meteor crater, he found his back was also a mess. DING DONG! DING DONG! He finally managed to log roll to the edge of the bed and get his feet under him. He slipped his ratty bathrobe on over his pasty white body, before valiantly pushing himself erect. His pushed his filthy mop of auburn hair to the side for a moment, then let it fall back. Too much burning sunlight has seeping in through dirty, bare window. The hair provided protection and a comforting darkness. In the distance, he could here his answering machine in the middle of taking a message. "..'rom the Law Offices of Andrews, Santiago and Peterson again. I urge you to return my calls! If you are not willing to settle this out of court I will be forced to recommend that my clients go ahead with this... " Mercifully, the message cut off just as he was crossing into his cluttered living room. He really needed to break that damn machine. Still, every time he did, the company showed up the next day with a new one. It was all part of his contract. They let him get drunk and hate himself and the world, but when it was time to trot his butt out in public then he had better be ready to receive his instructions, to dust off his old uniform and do his best to hide the ravages that a thirty year steady diet of cheap booze, cigarettes and double cheese burgers with triple the cheese enacted on his features. It was "Show Time" and the bleeding show had to go on, hang over or no hang over. DING DONG! He staggered toward the front door, briefly catching a curled yellow toenail in the thick shag carpet. The noise pounded through his head again. He peered through the screen door to see who the hell was ringing his God damn doorbell. It was a girl. A very little girl. She was an adorable bundle of brown pigtails, rose red dimples and hope and love all wrapped up in a little violet dress with a matching beret. Tiny patches covered a white sash that crossed her chest. CRAP, he thought to himself, as he scratched his sweaty butt. IT'S TO FREAKIN' EARLY FOR THIS!. "Mister, mister! Wanna by some of my Little Nightingales cupcakes? I baked them myself! I got a gold patch for them and everything! Only two dollars each!" Her pearly whites were flashing at him. She exuded goodness, the spirit of free enterprise and young Republicanism at its finest. He felt like he might need to throw up. He was not at all sure that he cared if she was in the way or not when the volcano erupted. "Go away kid, your bothering me!" he barked hoarsely. "But Mister! Mr. King next door bought five and that nice girl Wendy across the street bought a whole dozen! Don't you know that this is for charity?" Her eyes were open as wide as the Chesapeake Bay. Her voice had a half pleading, half demanding tone. He realized that he really was going to throw up in a matter of seconds. "I don't give a monkey's butt what those chumps bought. GET OUT YOU LITTLE BEGGAR!" He slammed the door in her face, and turned toward the bathroom. The robe fluttered behind his ghostly white body as he dashed forward. In his haste, slipped on a pile of greasy cheeseburger wrappers. His big, hairy feet went out from under him, sending him airborne for severally yards, before landing flat on his back onto the hard wood floor. A moment later, he wasn't aware of anything at all, for a long, long time. On the porch, the little girl stood for a moment, arms akimbo. Her cute as a button face was pinched up like a lemon. "What a crabby old clown he is. I bet his dollars would smell like grandfather's beer breath anyway! She considered smearing a cupcake on his windows, or using her official Nightingales permanent marker to write an insult on his mailbox, so that others would know what a jerk he was. She only considered for an instant though. She had been brought up better than that. With a lift of her chin and a tight turn, she shook the dust of her feet and moved on. Maybe she would have better luck at the next house. It was a big white brick house with old-fashioned gables and even a tower. In her young mind, it looked like the castle of a fairy princess. Princesses must have everything, like in the stories, but even they had never had anything like Mary Joe Moon's special spiced pumpkin cupcakes. The Nightingale Ch. 01 This is a story about a fictional character in the fictional world of Skyrim. There is NO sexuality in the first chapter. It serves to build the scenario leading into the sexual pieces. Feedback and comments would be greatly appreciated. The moons Secunda and Masser shone bright and constant on the towering city of Solitude. In the soft shadow of a modest bush in the Blue Palace garden, Serinee (Se-Rin-Ay) Deltone (Dell-Tone) crept along the moss-covered walls of the ancient castle, her footsteps muffled on the cobblestone beneath her feet. The slender Nord woman's elegant features were illuminated by the moonlight in the brisk Rain's Hand night sky. A gentle breeze which swayed the brush next to her provided the only interruption to the otherwise still night. She was close. Her venture into the wilderness of northwestern Skyrim had not been an easy one. Only the strenuous training under the tutelage of Brynjolf had kept her undetected by the vast wildlife that easily claimed the life of the unwary traveler. In fact, Brynjolf was a primary reason for her journey to the capitol city. She remembered his words plainly: "It's all about sizing up your mark, lass. It's the way they walk, what they're wearing. It's a dead giveaway." Serinee easily recalled the affront she received by the master thief upon her first visit to the city of Riften. The way they walk, what they're wearing. If only they knew how detrimental they are to their own interests, she thought to herself as she twirled a blade of grass in her fingers. She brushed a lock of dark brown hair out of her eyes and recalled the job she was given by the vivacious Vex of the Thieves Guild. A prominent celebrity, in his own right, a fellow Nord who's actions have not gone unnoticed by the Province. Dragonborn, the Dovahkiin, Stormblade, among other titles, were the names bestowed upon her target. She could not help but smile to herself. SHe would finally have her prowess put to the test against a worth adversary. Serinee put her wandering mind to rest as a patrolman made his way through the doorway to the castle courtyard. He made his usual rounds, unaware of the young woman in the cover the night mere feet away from him. He was completely unaware of the Daedric Bow that was silently being drawn in the darkness nearby. Nor was he aware of the Ebony arrow that pierced his upper left chest. Sovngarde took the guard without a moments hesitation. Serinee crept over to her prey. She frowned to herself. She knew that the Guild distinguished itself from the Dark Brotherhood in its nonviolent methods. On any normal assignment, she would have opted to merely injure the guard to avoid detection as much as possible. But she knew that the Dragonborn changed the mindset of her mission entirely. She gritted her teeth and dragged the lifeless body around the corner of the courtyard garden. She decorated the the soldiers makeshift grave with barrels and wooden crates, taking caution to silence her movements. Her focus returned to gaining access to the palace. To the theif's surprise, the rugged iron door leading into the voyeur was left unlocked into the late hours of the night. Their laziness could cost them dearly, she thought to herself as she gently pushed open the door. She took a small glance into the voyeur in front of her. Small coffee tables with ornate chairs were set up on either side of the entryway. An old Mage lay sleeping on a bench that spanned the wall opposite of the main hall. She had frequently heard the wizard note how exceptional the Jarl's Court Wizard was, her skills profound even for a Breton. "Damn Wizards. Always quick to open their mouths." She muttered as the Mage let out a long snore. She kept herself low as she made her way into the main hall. The castles beauty was undeniable. She somehow felt shame at her numerous visits to the castles interior, and her "borrowing" of its treasures. But tonight, the only valuable Serinne sought was information. The Dragonborn had been to Solitude, in the company of Jarl Elisif the Fair. She alone would possess information regarding the Dragonborn's whereabouts, as well as the prize Serinee sought with all her determination. The guard that normally would have been stationed in the hall is now defending an assortment of barrels and crates. In front of her stood the empty stairwell, with both spiraling to connect to the second floor. Halls adorned with paintings and plants lined the walls to both sides of her. The aromatic fragrance of the evenings meal still lingered from the castle kitchen. The smell of vegetable stew and fresh rabbit haunch played with Serinee's senses as she crept up the staircase to the upper level. She stopped to listen for any sign of activity. Two guards discussing the weapons of the Hammerfell warriors walked down a nearby hallway and eventually she could no longer make out their words. With only the sound of a dimly lit brazier, Serinee trotted down a long hallway to the left of the staircase. Her footsteps were kept muffled by the enchantments of the coveted Nightingale armor. Serinee stopped at the end of the hallway, facing a large set of wooden doors. She knew by instinct that this was Elisif's bedchamber. She gently tried the handle. The lock on Elisif's door was sealed tightly. The thief was not surprised. The Jarl's quarters were not to be underguarded. Serinee, however, was not deterred. She reached into her pocket and drew a small key. She and Brynjolf had recovered the artifact before their initiation as Nightingales, in their service to Nocturnal. The slender key had a boney texture, and boasted an enchantment to unlock even the most skillfully crafted lock. A girl's best friend, she thought to herself as the key morphed its shape perfectly to fit the lock. Cautiously she into the bedroom and closed the door behind her. She then reached into her pack and dug out a small book. She opened the tome, reading carefully with a look of fierce concentration. Then, without warning, her right hand illuminated to a dark red hue, followed by a small ball of energy. The muffle spell, specifically designed by a Guild sympathizing wizard to effect target objects, as opposed to being used upon the user. Serinee carefully touched the door with the palm of her hand, the spell taking effect immediately after it was cast. The door shimmered in a red light, effectively blocking all noise from entering or leaving the Jarl's quarters. She then turned her attention to the Jarl herself. Her bedroom was fitting for her status. Her framed, linen-covered bed dominated the center of the room, with multiple bookshelves lining one side of the rooms walls, stocked with volumes of Skyrim's lore and history. Dressers topped with fine silver and jewelry filled each corner of the room. Leftover food and drink left by the cook created a nostalgic and lighter atmosphere to her quarters. Serinee knew then that she would thoroughly enjoy her new prey. She kept herself low, being sure to assure herself of the cover of darkness and stealth as she mad her way to the sleeping woman. She stopped at the side of the bed, her eyes fixed upon the noble beauty. Her sleep had masked the deep, piercing blue eyes she possessed, and her long strands of orange hair dangled lazily in front of her face. Serinee had always been smitten with the young Jarl. In her occasional visits to Solitude and the Blue Palace, she could not help but feel a sense of jealousy when she thought of the Jarl. Even if Ulfric Stormcloak had taken High King Torygg from Elisif's life, Serinee could not help but feel a sense of longing and desire when her thoughts dwelt upon the queen. The young thief had not made it a known fact that her true affections were with fellow women. Traditional Nord culture dictated that women were to marry a man and bear a new generation of children, a tradition left largely unchallenged over the centuries. In her native city of Whiterun, Serinee had become the outsider and considered unwelcome in daily life. She had expected as much from the city that so closely adhered to the hardiest of Nordic traditions. As a result, Serinee kept her true feelings sealed underneath a mask she was forced to wear. This part of Serinee is what fueled her desire to be alone with the young Jarl. Elisif barely shifted in her bad as Serinee ran a hand along her slender frame, her hand transfixed on her voluptuous hips and warm thighs. Serinee shuddered as she forced herself to wake the angelic form in front of her. She promised herself to be gentle with the fair woman in front of her. She gently nudged Elisif's shoulder with both hands. The Jarl, at first not responding to Serinees touch, rolled onto her back and rubbed the nights sleep out of her eyes. She stretched her long arms and legs as she took in her surroundings, her eyes growing accustomed to the darkness. She stared upward, as is still engulfed in a dream, and then her focus shifted to the figure to her left. Elisif panicked slightly, and Serinee placed a loving hand over her mouth. "Do not fret, Elisif. I do not wish to harm you." She purred, her voice barely a whisper. Elisif struggled for a short moment, and allowed herself to nod to her captor. Serinee was energized by the Jarl's quick embrace of submission. "All I need from you is information, my Jarl," she said. "And much, much more..." Part two coming soon. The Nightingale Ch. 02 This is the continuation of The Nightingale, for those of you who have not read the introductory chapter. This will contain a portion of the sex, but I would best describe it as foreplay. Enjoy. Feedback, comments and criticism are welcomed. "I am sincerely sorry about disturbing your slumber, Elisif," Serinee said in a hushed tone. The sudden realization that she was being held captive sunk into her mind. Her expression changed to one of worry and anxiety. Then, without a second passing, her brow furrowed and she glared at the young thief. Serinee chuckled to herself and lazily rolled her eyes. Too often had she seen the mental state of her marks vacillate between foolhardy courage and almost pitiful fear. The Jarl did not offer much of a change in her usual encounters. "Do not bother with trying to call for your guard," she said, as if to herself. She glanced over to the door, covered with the red glow of a muffle spell she had placed upon it moments before. Instinctively Elisif followed Serinee's eyes to the door. "Rest assured we have our privacy." She removed her hand from the Jarls mouth. She wasted no time in letting the words in her head find a voice. "What is it you want from me, thief? My money? Or perhaps my jewelry? Take it all and go, and leave me at peace," She spat, her voice flaring with growing contempt for the woman standing above her. "I am in no mood. My husband is taken from me. The Stormcloaks have seen their desires sated. Let me be." She sat up in her bed, supporting herself on her elbows. "I grieve for Torygg. He was a good man, and a righteous leader. However, the state of things politically no longer interest me. I am a woman of... simpler needs, so to speak," Serinees gleaming blue eyes fixated upon the Jarl. "I believe in Quid pro Quo. If you help me, I can help you. I seek information, you seek consolation." Her voice was stern and unwavering. She noted the sullen look upon the Jarls face at the mention of Torygg. Perhaps it was too soon for Serinee to prey upon Elisifs grievance. "What information? And who are you to tell me what I seek? You're but a petty thief. You will never know of the love I have lost." "You're right. I would not wish the loss of a love on even my most hated enemies. I should just get to the purpose of this visit then, shouldn't I? I'm with some very important people. As such, what I'm after is of equal importance. Your cooperation would be most welcomed." As she said this, she reached for the hilt of an Ebony dagger, lacing her fingers around the leather-bound handle. "You were in the company of the Dragonborn very recently. Weeks, I have been told. He was here on business with the late General Tullius. I am aware that you have talked to him about a very important subject, the same subject that has brought me here today. The Elder Scroll." She paused to let her words sink in to the Jarl. She had decided to pull over an ornate chair from the tables along the wall, and maintain level eye contact with her captive. "I would be a dishonest woman if I denied any of your claims, thief, and it is fairly obvious of your intent. However, what does this information have to do with me?" She asked, curiosity sufficiently piqued in the Jarl. "Oh, it has everything to do with you. In short, all I truly need from you is the current whereabouts of the Dragonborn. I have ears in many places, Elisif, and I am aware he has told you of his future travels. After you divulge what I require, your reward; yes there will be a reward, will be substantial." She shook her head lightly to her side, pushing away the locks of brown hair that had fallen into her face. She allowed herself to gaze at the Jarl for a moment. The woman she was merely inches away from was one of elegant beauty. Her voluptuous body was concealed by the blankets she hid under, but she was in plain view of her face. Long, smooth strands of fiery orange hair was in a tangled mess on her head. Her pale blue eyes reflected the lingering sleep that she was interrupted in, and her full, rounded lips were sealed tightly in her pondering of the words Serinee had spoken to her. Simply, she looked beautiful. "He... he was headed to High Hrothgar. I had told him that the Greybeards would assist him in his search for a Scroll. That should be enough for you, thief." She said shortly, clearly indicating she thought her usefulness was complete. Serinee sighed and lifted her body onto the edge of the Jarls bed. She hesitated at the sudden advance of the thief, but her resolve refused to falter. "I believe you, Elisif. You truly are as beautiful, and as fair, as they say you are. Your husband was a lucky man," She whispered, placing a hand softly on the Jarls thigh. Again, a small pang of sadness swept over Elisifs face as mention of Torygg reached her ears. But this time, a look of quizzical wonder was mixed with her grief. Serinee began to slowly massage the Jarls leg, as a mother would if she were soothing a crying youth. She slid herself upward, closer to Elisifs face. "You don't know of the hardships that I have seen, being the way that I am. But I have embraced it. I am different, and I am proud of that difference." She raised the Jarls hand and lightly kissed her knuckles. She quickly drew her hand away. "What in Oblivion...? What are you suggesting?" She scooted herself towards her pillows, not used to the treatment and compliments she was receiving. Her unease was fueled largely by the giver of these treatments. Serinee removed her hand from the warmth of Elisifs thigh. She reached behind her back, unhooking the Nightingale armor she donned on her journey to the capital city. She slid her feet easily out of the ancient Nightingale boots she had acquired in her services to the Daedric god, Nocturnal. In a moments time, she was down to her black lace bra and matching underwear, which she picked up from a harshly gossipy High Elf merchant in the Solitude markets. Elisif could not help but be stunned at the flawlessness of her captors figure. Serinee was not as slender as Elisif was, but the curves of her body were more than enough to silence anyone who dared criticize her frame. Her breasts, cupped perfectly in a 36D bra, were full and youthfully perky, adding more elegance to her already flawless figure. Her hips were round and beautifully curved, leaving any lover with the perfect place to rest their hands. Elisif could only imagine the perfection of her behind, as the partial darkness of the room had nearly concealed it. The Jarl could not help but feel jealous of the thief. In a swift motion, Serinee had swung her body on top of Elisifs, in a motion that even she admitted to be instantaneous. She took both of Elisifs hands in hers, pressing her arms firmly down onto the bed. Her waist was at even level with Elisifs as she pressed herself down onto the young Queen. Their breasts, nearly perfect matches, were inches from contact. "What is this?! Get off of me, girl!" She cried to her captor, but to no avail. Serinee had seemed to give up on speaking. She had a fiery look in her eyes when Elisif decided to look at the woman on top of her. It was a look she had seen often in Torygg's eyes, a look that she had been described as having in their most intimate of moments. This realization did nothing to soothe Elisifs nerves. In another moment that seemed to blur by as if faster than light, Serinee's lips were inches from the Jarls. Her hair was dangling freely in her face, tickling her cheeks and teasing her lips. Playfully, she grazed Elisifs bottom lip with her tongue, tracing her lips with her tongue and stopping with a kiss to the tip of her nose. Without hesitating, she kissed her bottom lip softly, her soft lips barely touching her captives. She allowed the sensations of the moment to control Elisifs reaction. She was strangely confident in the result of her advances. She would not be let down. Elisif closed her eyes slightly, enough to barely make out a visage of the young woman on top of her. She leaned upward, her lips ready to lock with her lovers. She had consigned herself to the realization that she was lonely and sought desperately a new love. She had no idea it would come at the hands of a young woman who had held her captive for information. When she felt her lips meet Serinee's, she let her eyes shut completely as she pulled her body down onto hers. Their figures meshed perfectly on the soft bed, as if one fit the other in an erotic puzzle. The Jarl had on only a linen nightgown, that teasingly exposed her now hardened nipples through the soft fabric. She wrapped her arms around her new lover and held her tight in their embrace, their tongues intertwining now becoming the central focus of their attention. Serinee had stolen a quick glance at the Jarls body before she had slung herself onto it. Elisif was a gorgeous woman in her own right. With 34C breasts not held by a bra of any sort, she was modestly framed, however smaller and more petite than the thief. This did not curb her desires, however. She had dreamed of the moment when her lips could meet Elisifs elegant body. She intended to turn those dreams into reality. She had let her hands guide themselves down Elisifs body, exploring every inch of her fair skin before resting upon her breasts. She noted how her hands nearly cupped them perfectly. She bit her lip eagerly in between caressing Elisifs tongue, her desires now taking physical form. She massaged her lovers breasts delicately, making sure the palms of her hands played with her nipples. She could hear, and see, the effects of her touch. Elisif had let out a soft moan, their lips finally unlocking from each other as she looked down to her body. Serinee had taken the subtle hint, crawling down her body, her head now on level with her breasts. Elisif ran both of her hands through Serinee's hair, and leaned her head back on her pillow. Pushing her body upward and her lovers head downward gently, Elisif closed her eyes and invited Serinee to do as she pleased. Serinee did not need to be asked. She let her lips come down upon Elisifs left nipple, her tongue exploring all around her areola, teasing Elisif by not focusing on her nipple. With a more urgent moan, Serinee suckled on the now completely hard nipple in her mouth, stopping to leave long trails of licks along her breast. Her left hand was now playing with Elisifs free nipple, teasing and gently rubbing as she continued her attention with her tongue. Her other free hand had found its way into Elisifs, their hands clasped tightly together as they savored the unity and passion of the moment the two of them were now bound to... Part three to come.