Chapter 20: Part ways
"Hngg—!"
"Aaahn—!"
"D-Dariius—Nng—!"
Moans echoed through the stone walls of Gerdur's house. Gerdur braced herself on the table, leaning her upper body forward, her breath fogging the smooth surface with each gasp. Her knuckles had gone pale from the pressure, though her hands remained locked in a grip behind her back.
I continued to slam inside her, each movement sending a creak through the old table. Her body caught between surrender and defiance. Seat trailed down her spine, mixing with the sheen already on her skin. I watched her expression in the flickering lights of the hearth—eyes squeezed shut, mouth open, a fine string of drool slipping from her lips as she lost herself in the moment.
Her ass rippeling with every impact. Her cave wetting the floor with every thrust, as the squealing continued.
I leaned forward, my chest pressing against her back, "Are we still parting ways?"
Gerudr whimpered something unintelligible, her whole body quivering. Her wrist, still caught in my hold, had stopped resisting. Her fingers curled softly, no longer struggling for control.
I straightened up, my hand floated in air for just a moment before it came down on her ass. The sound rang out, sharp and clear.
"Aaah! Dariu-"
I thrust inside her again, silencing her with pleasure, and invoking her response with pain. I needed to take control of her mind and extinguish any defiance.
I continued to mix the pain and pleasure until she could no longer differentiate one another, and only feel the pleasure.
Her rear turned red, as I picked her up from the table, making her stand straight, her back pressed against my chest, unable to stand still she leaned back on me for support. I continued to thrust inside her as we stood on our feet.
Her eyes had rolled back on the brink of losing consciousness, but before she could, I thrust inside her one final time, painting her insides white.
I carried her limp body to the bed, lying her down, my hand caressed her cheek, and slid down to her neck to her stomach, she giggled at my touch until it reached her slit, her breath hitched, her eyes opened hazily, and turned to me, "D-Darius, I-I'm still sensitive," she said softly.
I leaned in, "Why else would I be doing this?" I pressed my lips against hers, my fingers sliding inside her, and she moaned between kisses.
My thumb circled her clit, whille my fingers assulted her from inside, I broke the kiss, moving down to her neck, then to her tits, taking one in my mouth, biting lightly on it.
Her hand moved to her mouth, trying to keep her voice down, her eyes wet at the edges.
Soon her back arched involuntarily as she sprayed her juices on the bed sheet and floor, losing consciousness in the process.
***
Gerdur was eight when Riverwood was barely more than a handful of homes surrounded by untamed forest. Her parents helped build it—her mother a carpenter, her father a hunter. That summer, the village still smelled of fresh timber and wet soil, and Gerdur played barefoot in the mud with her brother Ralof and his friend Hod, their laughter rising into the pine-scented air.
It was one such carefree evening, under a pink-gold sunset, that everything changed.
The attack came after nightfall. Half the town was still unfinished, with no walls to protect them, no guards to sound an alarm. The bandits struck swiftly, torches lighting the darkness like a waning moon too late to heed. Gerudr had been asleep. She woke to screams.
She remembered the heat—wood burning, bodies struggling, a sword claterring to the floor. She remembered the shouting, the smoke. She remembered Ralof grabbing her hand, dragging her under the table, telling her not to make a sound.
They didn't listen. Their parents died in the struggle—her father ran through trying to shield them, her mother was struck down she tried to crawl to them. The bandits were not kind enough to make it quick, as they took turns, the young Gerdur, who saw only the start of the horror before her brother covered her eyes, could never forget the faces of the monsters that took her mother, nor could Ralof.
The siblings were taken, as insurance, a way out of the crime they had committed. Bargaining chips should the guards from Whiterun ever come looking, if they didn't, they could use the girl to warm their nights, and kill the boy.
Gerdur and Ralof were locked in a cage made of roots, not enough to stop a man, but enough to keep two kids in long enough.
They went three days without food.
Ralof gave her his water. He kept her warm through the night when she cried to herself to sleep, or woke up in the middle of the night, with a scream that would only make the bandits hit them.
He whispered promises, desperate ones, and curses most foul as the rage only increased between them.
But on the third night, both had started to believe they would die in the dark, cold, and forgotten. But they also knew that the monsters that held them wouldn't allow them to even die in peace.
And the worst came true, as two bandits with a sick look in their eyes glanced at Gerdur, she shivered and hid behind her brother, tears welling up in her eyes, her hands gripped on Ralof's dirty shirt, as tears welled in eyes, and when she closed them the image of mother ravaged by monsters flashed before her eyes, and when she opened them it had become a reality of her.
The bandits untangled the cage opening, and even with his rage and adrenaline, Ralof could do nothing as they pushed him aside with ease. He hit a rock as he fell, and darkness took him, leaving his sister to fate.
As one of the bandits reached out, grabbing her hand with a smirk on his face, and then came the screams, but not of Gerdur. The screams of men dying.
Before the man could turn around, his head was rolling on the ground as the camp was set on fire. When Gerdur opened her eyes, the silhouette of a woman in leather, blade dripping with blood, eyes as dark as the night.
A young Dunmer woman stood before her, flanked by four soldiers. She didn't smile. She didn't speak right away. She simply extended her hand and said, "It's over."