Iona Alone

Iona gazed longingly out over the lake toward the sun setting over the mountains to the west. A bottle of Black-Briar mead, half empty, sat on the table in front of her on the back porch of Honeyside. Where, she wondered, was her thane, the mysterious Myrna, who had stormed into her life and then vanished almost as quickly? Raised from birth to be a soldier in the Riften guard, Iona was rarely given over to deep emotion. But Myrna was almost like some supernatural force, a presence unlike any the young warrior had ever experienced before. In the mixed barracks of the guard, sexuality had been a carefree thing, partners swapped haphazardly, gender almost immaterial, emotional connections faint, the pleasure of the moment the overriding concern. But from the moment Iona had received the Jarl's summons to serve as a new Thane's housecarl, from the moment she laid her eyes upon the voluptuous raven-haired Imperial with skin as pale as snow and eyes as green as spring leaves, her heart—her body—wanted no other. She remembered the pounding in her chest as she led her new thane through the streets of Riften, how the small talk she tried to make sounded so empty and stupid, how self-conscious she was in the presence of this stranger. "Get a hold of yourself," she remembered thinking. She who cared about nothing except the sharpness of her blade, the deftness of her reactions, the strength of her arm, was suddenly a bundle of nerves. "Gods damn you, my thane," she said, half-bitterly and half-amused.

It was only the next day from their first meeting that Myrna told her to pack her things. There was work to be done. Off they went, two young women tramping across the countryside. Myrna spoke politely but sparingly. Iona had continued to struggle with her emotions, but relished following the taut but curvy frame before her, wrapped in some mysterious, skin-tight black armor; something like leather, Iona thought, but both more supple and sturdier. It hugged her hips and ass and thighs such that Iona could scarcely take her eyes away. She tripped over roots or loose cobbles more than a few times.

They reached Ivarstead that night and took a room at the inn. Myrna sat quietly in the corner of the common room long into the night, watching those coming and going carefully, saying little. Iona drank more than her share of mead, or perhaps in her emotional state it just had a stronger effect than usual on the large-framed warrior maiden. She remembered Myrna's hand over her mug, and the look in her eye that said, "stop." Then she had smiled. "There's work to be done tomorrow. I need you at your best, Iona." Hearing her name come from the Imperial's dark, luscious lips for the first time sent a chill up Iona's spine and a warm tingle around her nether regions.

In the morning, after some words with the innkeeper that Iona did not overhear, Myrna led them just outside of town to Shroud Hearth Barrow. The dangers that lay within were beyond anything Iona had ever imagined. Draugr. Hoards of undead warriors from among the ancient Nords. She watched her thane move effortlessly, slaying with bow and with axe, whirling like a dancer one minute and calmly piercing the head of a distant draugr with a perfectly fired arrow the next. Gradually her own fears subsided, and Iona let her well-honed battle skills take over, chopping, hacking, slashing, engaged in a macabre dance of slaughter with this beautiful young maiden beside her. Whenever death seemed ready to overtake them, Myrna brushed it aside like so many cobwebs, and at times Iona could only watch in awe. But she held her own. As the mysterious Imperial pulled her axe from the skull of the Deathlord they had woken from centuries of slumber, she smiled up at Iona.

"Kind of fun, huh?"

Iona smiled back.

"Come here," Myrna said, loosening her belt and dropping her axe to the floor. She took the bow and quiver from her back and laid them down next to her other weapon. Iona approached, unsure of what to expect.

"Closer," said the pale Imperial, her dark eyes flashing in the torchlight. Iona's heart felt like it would leap out of her chest. Myrna pulled the young Nord to her and kissed her deeply and hard, her tongue pressing strongly into Iona's mouth. A fire swelled within Iona's loins that seemed all but unquenchable. The two women fumbled with their armor, Iona's plate mail held securely by tight leather strips, Myrna's black armor almost peeling off of her. Both were naked soon enough, kissing passionately, breasts pressed together, hands rubbing buttocks and hips and backs. Iona could scarcely believe the beauty she beheld in the dark-haired girl before her. Although somewhat stocky of build, Iona own body had wonderful curves and beautifully think thighs that perfectly complemented her rounded buttocks. Her large pendulous breasts swung free, her nipples erect. Myrna cupped both hands around one and sucked the nipple into her mouth, filling Iona with a wave of ecstasy. And suddenly the Imperial swung the Nord around, almost effortlessly, practically throwing her to the ground. Iona was shocked at the smaller girl's strength, but the shock gave way to pleasure a second later as Myrna straddled her housecarl's face, pressing her hot cunt hard over Iona's mouth, her labia wrapping around the Nord's slender nose, cutting off her air. Iona didn't care, and lapped greedily at the salty juices that flowed freely from her thane's delicious fount. From time to time Myrna would let up just enough to let Iona take a quick breath, barely enough to keep her conscious, just enough to drive the desire in her own pussy to new heights. As Myrna shuddered to orgasm she ground deeper and harder onto the Nord's face. Iona was at her breaking point, about to pass out, when Myrna's orgasm finally subsided. Iona gasped for breath as Myrna slid down to her cunt. A few quick flicks of Myrna's tongue brought Iona to climax, but the Imperial was just getting started. She slid two fingers inside, then three, four, finally the thumb. Iona felt filled up like never before as her thane's fist ground into her. It was a battle between pain and pleasure. As Myrna's other hand found Iona's clit, pleasure won out, and the Nord began to move herself around the rigid fist inside her. She grabbed her breasts and pinched her nipples as she felt another orgasm brewing inside her, and in a minute or two she exploded with sensations beyond any she had ever felt.

"That was fun, too," Iona said as they dressed. They journeyed across Skyrim together for a few weeks, each responding to the dangers they faced, once inevitably surmounted, with a torrent of lust and passion that was eagerly sated by the willing tongue and hands of the other. And then they returned to Riften. Myrna stayed only one night, and then was gone with just a quick kiss and a few quiet words. "It's time for us to part ways." Iona could only reply faintly. "I'll be here if you need me." Two months later, she still was, and the mysterious Imperial's hold on her memory only grew stronger with each passing day. Iona took a long draught from the bottle and watched as the last rays of the sun turned the clouds a brilliant orange. She squeezed her thighs together and felt a tickle of pleasure, and sighed.