Sigrid from Riverwood

I stood near the woodpile outside our home, wiping the sweat from my brow. The river was rushing by, its cold mist drifting over the cobblestones of Riverwood. I was wearing my usual brown wool skirt and the tight green leather bodice, which pressed my heavy breasts up high. They ached slightly, swollen and warm in the brisk air. My eyes kept wandering to the road leading towards the Whiterun bridge, expecting the one man who had been occupying my thoughts lately.

Every week, you would make your run through our quiet little town. My heart hammered against my ribs as I spotted your familiar, tall figure approaching. You had that steady, powerful stride that made the other men here look like mere boys, even my husband Alvor, who was currently inside busy with the bellows. I smoothed down my long skirt, feeling a sudden, intense flush of heat between my thighs.

As you drew closer, I stepped away from the woodpile, pretending to be tidying the small shrubbery. I could feel my wetness soaking against my inner thighs. Since I never wore any panties, the cool breeze swept right up under my coarse wool skirt, making my plump outer lips shiver with anticipation. I remembered what I felt during our last stolen moment—how your manly, dependable presence completely mastered me.

"Shor's bones, you return at last," I murmured, my voice low and husky, hardly more than a breath. I looked around nervously, checking if Gerdur or any other neighbors were watching. The road was momentarily empty, giving us only a few seconds of privacy.

I backed slowly toward the shadows of the side shed, holding my breath. My fingers grasped the hem of my skirt, slowly bunching the heavy fabric upward to expose my bare, thick thighs and my glistening, swollen womanhood, fully presenting myself to your gaze.

I could hear the rhythmic, metallic clang of Alvor's hammer hitting the anvil just outside the open window. The smell of hot iron and coal smoke drifted into the warm kitchen, but my entire attention was focused on the shimmering, nearly invisible distortion standing right in front of me. You had cast your spells, muffle and invisibility i think, making your steps absolutely silent and your body a mere ghostly outline to anyone else, but I knew you were there.

The sheer thrill of it made my knees weak. My husband was literally meters away, working hard, completely oblivious. I leaned against the heavy wooden dining table, my hands gripping the edge so hard my knuckles turned white. My large, heavy breasts swayed as I trembled, the green leather bodice straining against their weight.

I felt your invisible, strong hands suddenly grasping my hips, guiding me. I whimpered, quickly biting my lip to stifle the sound, knowing even a soft gasp could reach the forge if the wind shifted. The air behind me shimmered, and the muscular mass of your body became a heavy, solid warmth pressing against my back.

'Oh, gods, please don't let him come inside,' I thought, though the terror only made my pussy swell and gush with slick fluid. The absence of any underwear meant there was nothing to block your touch.

I bent forward over the rustic table, pushing my wide, fleshy hips far back. I reached down, grabbing the hem of my brown wool skirt, hiking it all the way up to my narrow waist to fully expose my plump, dripping wet pussy, inviting your monstrous cock to slide deep inside me.

The cave was cold, damp, and stank of blood and the foul, musty odor of the Falmer. I had been shivering on the hard, stony floor, clutching my torn, soiled linen blouse around my chest, fully expecting to die in this miserable, dark hole. But then, the screams of those blind, vile creatures echoed through the tunnels, followed by the unmistakable, heavy thuds of your boots.

When your imposing figure broke through the gloom, holding a flickering torch, I let out a ragged, sobbing gasp of pure relief. You approached me, your movements calm and powerful. You didn't say a word, but the way you looked down at me made it clear that my rescue came with a sensual, visceral price—one that my terrified, overwhelmed body was more than eager to pay.

The adrenaline from surviving the ordeal mixed with a sudden, uncontrollable surge of lust. My legs, scratched and bare, were shaking. My heavy breasts heaved rapidly underneath my loosened green bodice, the large, highly sensitive nipples pressing hard against the coarse fabric.

"Thank you... by the gods, thank you," I whispered, crawling toward your feet. I did not care about the cold stone or the danger still lingering in the deeper shafts. I only wanted to feel alive, to be claimed by the dependable man who had just slaughtered my captors.

I pushed myself up onto my hands and knees, presenting my plump, round ass directly to you. I reached back, gathering the soiled folds of my ankle-length skirt and pulling it over my back, revealing my bare, flushed, and heavily lubricated pussy, begging for your massive girth to stretch me open right here in the dirt.

The shadows of the tall, ancient pines sheltered us from the road. The scent of damp earth, pine needles, and wildflowers filled the cool mountain air. I had told Alvor I was going out to gather some mountain flowers and juniper berries, but my basket lay empty and forgotten on the mossy ground. My entire body was trembling, heated from the clandestine walk and the knowledge of what was about to happen.

I stood against the rough, thick bark of a massive pine, feeling the coolness of the wood through my thin linen blouse. You stood before me, blocking out the specks of sunlight filtering through the canopy. I felt so small, so utterly helpless under your gaze, my narrow waist and flared hips shivering with want.

I remembered the compliments I heard from you before, how you made me feel like a true Nord woman. The memory alone made my nipples swell, straining against the laced front of my green leather bodice. I knew this was wrong, that I was a married woman, but the guilt only seemed to make my pussy leak more heavily.

"If anyone sees us..." I muttered weakly, though I made no effort to step away. Instead, I leaned closer to you, my heavy thighs rubbing together, feeling the glistening wetness smearing between them.

I slowly turned around, pressing my chest and palms flat against the rough tree bark. I arched my back, pushing my fleshy, plump ass high into the air, and hiked my coarse brown wool skirt all the way up to my lower back, offering my bare, dripping, pink pussy lips to your imposing, monstrous size.

The smoke from the smoldering wooden beams stung my eyes, and the distant, terrifying shriek of the beast still echoed in the mountains. Riverwood had survived, but only barely, and only because you had been there to fight it off. I had watched the whole thing from the shadow of our porch, clutching my daughter Dorthe close, my heart hammering so hard I thought it would burst.

Now, with Dorthe safe inside, I met you behind the ruins of the old guard tower. My entire body was shaking, not just from fear, but from a primitive, overwhelming need that had suddenly taken root deep within my womb. Seeing you conquer such a monster had shattered something inside me. My husband Alvor had cowered, but you... you were the most dependable, powerful force I had ever witnessed.

I wanted to be filled by you. I wanted your seed deep inside my roomy, fertile uterus, to be claimed by the conqueror of dragons. My breasts felt incredibly heavy, leaking a strange, warm tightness, my large pink nipples peeking tautly from the linen blouse.

"Please," I gasped, looking at you with wide, pleading eyes. "I need... I need you inside me. Make me yours. Give me a child."

Without waiting, I dropped to the smoldering grass on my hands and knees, unbothered by the ash staining my skin. I reached back and furiously pulled my long, soiled skirt over my hips, presenting my extremely wet, glistening, highly fertile pink pussy, begging for your monstrous, warm cock to plunge deep and breed me.

The journey had been a blur of shadows, muffled gasps, and the tight, unyielding grip of your strong arms carrying me stealthily through the night. You had snatched me right from my own home, slipped past the sleeping guards, and brought me all the way to a private, secluded room in the Bannered Mare in Whiterun. I should have been screaming for help, but the sheer, thrilling force of it had left me completely paralyzed, drowning in my own arousal.

Now, the door was barred from the inside, and the only light came from the flickering hearth fire. I stood by the large, fur-covered bed, my chest heaving. My blonde hair had come partially undone from its braids, falling wildly over my shoulders. My tight green bodice was straining to support my huge, throbbing breasts, which felt unbearably sensitive.

The guilt of leaving Alvor and Dorthe behind clashed violently with the primitive thrill of being stolen, of being treated like your rightful spoils of war. My thighs were rubbing together, smeared with a copious, thick lubrication that had dripped freely during our stealthy flight, since I wore no panties to catch it.

"You can't keep me here," I whispered faintly, though my body was already swaying, my wide, fleshy hips leaning towards the bed. "If the guards find out..."

I did not finish the thought. I turned, pressing my thighs against the edge of the soft mattress. I bent deeply over the furs, presenting my plump, round buttocks. With shaking hands, I gathered my long, brown peasant skirt and hiked it to my waist, revealing my tight, sopping wet pink pussy lips, fully submitting to whatever you had planned for me tonight.

The warm breeze from the window carried the scent of the forge, but the usual sound of Alvor's busy clanking was absent. Instead, he stood just outside, staring blankly at the river, his eyes clouded and empty under the powerful influence of the Pacify spell you had cast upon him. Inside, on our very own marital bed, I lay trembling, the sheer humiliation and arousal of the situation making my mind spin.

This was the bed where Alvor and I had slept for fourteen years, yet it had never seen the kind of wild, primal lust that now filled the room. I stared up at your towering figure, feeling completely overwhelmed. My long blonde hair was spread out across the coarse, woven blankets, and my tight bodice was partially unlaced, allowing my huge breasts to spill out heavy and flushed with heat.

The thought of my pacified husband standing just outside, utterly unable to protect his own home or wife, made my highly fertile body react with shameless intensity. My pussy was drenching the bedsheets, gushing with warm, thick fluids.

"By the gods... he's right there," I moaned, my hands clutching the pillows. "If the spell fades... if he turns around..."

My worries were meaningless, and we both know it. I willingly rolled over onto my stomach, pushing myself up onto my knees. I arched my back, pressing my face into the pillows as I reached back, hiking my brown skirt over my plump, fleshy ass, exposing my wide-open, dripping pink pussy, fully prepared to be thoroughly mated on my husband's own sheets.

The clatter of iron tongs and the blaze of the forge were only a few meters away. I stood behind the wooden stack at the side of the house, gripping the rough timber for dear life. My husband Alvor was right there, his back turned as he heated a steel ingot in the coals, wiping the soot from his brow. He had no idea that I was standing here, shivering in the cool Skyrim breeze, completely at your mercy.

My heart was beating like a trapped bird in my chest. I was wearing my long, coarse brown wool skirt, which provided absolutely no protection since I wore no panties beneath it. The thought of being caught by my own husband, of him turning around and seeing his wife being thoroughly used by a much stronger, more dependable man, made my thighs rub together in sheer, uncontrollable excitement. I could feel my slick, warm juices already running down my legs, dripping onto the dirt.

You stepped closer behind me, your heavy chest pressing against my back, forcing me to bend forward against the woodpile. I bit my lip, letting out a soft, trembling whimper as I felt your massive, thick girth pressing right against my highly reactive, pink wet pussy lips. My narrow waist and flared hips shook with the thrill of the impending intrusion. I knew I was highly fertile, and the thought of you filling my womb right here, within earshot of my husband, made me dizzy.

"Shor's bones... he's right there," I whispered, my voice cracking with a mix of terror and filthy, unadulterated lust. I did not try to pull away. Instead, I reached back, hiking my bulky skirt up around my waist, fully exposing my wide-open, gushing pussy, begging you to slide your monstrous cock deep inside me while my husband worked.

The smell of burning pine and sulfur filled the air, accompanied by the deafening, guttural roar of a dragon wheeling overhead. The village screamed in terror, and I could hear Alvor's voice, bold but hopelessly outmatched, rallying the local guards. Yet, I was not at his side. I was deep in the woods, pinned against the mossy ground beneath your unyielding, muscular weight, drowning in a frenzy of guilt and uncontrollable arousal.

The contrast was unbearable. While the man I had shared my life with for fourteen years faced certain death, I was shivering with pure, dirty pleasure. Your massive, heavy cock was buried deep inside me, stretching my tight vagina to its absolute limits, sending waves of paralyzing, stretching pleasure straight to my uterus. Every thrust made my huge, heavy breasts bounce wildly underneath my torn linen blouse, the large pink nipples taut and flushed with the heat of our sin.

A loud, crashing thud shook the earth, followed by a sudden, haunting silence from the direction of the forge. I knew what it meant. Alvor was gone. The realization struck me like an icy blade, yet my submissive body responded by clutching your shoulders even harder, my pussy walls spasming violently around your enormous shaft, milking you with shameless, grief-fueled desire.

"No... no, by the gods," I sobbed, tears streaming down my weathered cheeks, though my hips were actively grinding upward against yours. I shoved my face into the damp dirt, arching my back completely to let you pound me even deeper into the moss, fully submitting to the conqueror who had just let my husband die.

The entire village spoke of your generosity. They called you a hero, a noble soul for coming to check on the grief-stricken widow and her young daughter after the tragedy. But as soon as the heavy wooden door of my home clicked shut, leaving us in the shadows of the hearth, the mask of mourning slipped. I collapsed against your sturdy, dependable chest, my grief instantly warping into a desperate, depraved need for comfort.

The house felt too quiet, too empty without Alvor, and the only way to escape the crushing guilt was to lose myself in your overwhelming, manly presence. My hands, rough from years of housework, scrambled to unlace my own green bodice, letting my huge breasts spill free. They ached for your touch, heavy and warm, longing to be bruised and claimed.

"They all think... they think you are just being kind," I whispered, a bitter, breathless laugh escaping my lips as my thighs began to tremble. I could feel my natural wetness soaking the heavy folds of my brown skirt, the slick, hot lubrication already running freely. Without Alvor here, there was no one left to protect me, leaving me entirely at your disposal.

I stepped toward the marital bed, turning my back to you. I bent over the rough wooden frame, resting my weight on my elbows and pushing my plump, round ass high in the air. With a submissive, quivering gasp, I pulled my skirt all the way up to my waist, revealing my bare, swollen, and dripping pink pussy, silently pleading for you to take Alvor's place by stretching me open.

The stone walls of your stronghold were cold, damp, and utterly devoid of the homely warmth of Riverwood. I had been dragged here, screaming and crying, after watching you ruthlessly slay my husband at his own forge. The image of Alvor's blood on the cobblestones was burned into my mind, yet, as I cowered on the large, fur-draped bed in your private quarters, my body was betraying me in the most humiliating way possible.

The raw, uncompromising force you had displayed had completely shattered my will. I was terrified, my breathing coming in ragged, shallow gasps, but the primal, submissive core of my being could not resist such sheer dominance. My large, heavy breasts heaved rapidly beneath my soiled linen blouse, the sensitive pink nipples pressing hard against the fabric, swollen with an unwanted, intense arousal.

You loomed over me, your imposing, dependable figure casting a long shadow across the stone floor. You didn't need to say anything; the sheer, possessive glance you gave me made it clear that I was now your property, nothing more than a spoiled conquest to be used at your pleasure. My pussy was already gushing with warm, slick fluids, soaking against my bare thighs.

"Please... why did you have to kill him?" I whimpered, though my hands were already moving to the hem of my brown skirt. I scrambled onto my hands and knees, arching my back submissively and presenting my plump, fleshy ass to you. I pulled the coarse wool over my waist, exposing my dripping wet, glistening pink pussy, completely yielding to my husband's killer.

The dripping water of the Chillwind Depths echoed through the pitch-black tunnels, a stark reminder of how far I had fallen from my simple life in Riverwood. I was pinned against a flat, cold boulder, my cheeks pressed against the rough, wet stone. You were behind me, plunging your monstrous, thick cock deep inside my tight vagina, each heavy thrust sending a shockwave of stretching, painful pleasure straight through my body.

With every brutal, unforgiving shove, the memory of Alvor's death flashed in my mind. I remembered the sound of his bones crushing, the way he looked at me before you ended his life, and yet, here I was, sobbing not from grief, but from the sheer, overwhelming intensity of the orgasm building within me. My tight, velvety walls gripped your enormous shaft firmly, completely unable to resist the physicality of your assault.

My heavy breasts slammed against the cold stone with every impact, the large pink nipples scraping painfully, yet the sensation only heightened my shameful arousal. I was being used like an animal in a dark, forgotten cave, utterly ruined and broken by the man who had destroyed my family.

"Shor's bones... it feels too good... I'm sorry, Alvor," I cried out, my voice echoing off the cave walls as my toes curled in the dirt. I pushed my fleshy, plump hips further back against your powerful, rhythmic thrusts, fully accepting the stretching pleasure buried deep inside my tight, sopping wet cunt.

I bent over the wooden bucket, heaving violently as the sudden, sharp wave of morning sickness wracked my body. The cool, early morning air of your stronghold did nothing to soothe the tightness in my stomach. Wiping my mouth with a trembling, pale hand, I rested against the stone wall, gently placing my palm over my still-flat, narrow waist. I was pregnant, and there was no doubt who the father was.

The thought that I was carrying the child of the man who had slain my husband should have filled me with disgust, but instead, a strange, possessive warmth bloomed deep within my roomy, fertile uterus. My body, highly susceptible to your virile strength, had welcomed your seed with open arms. My huge, heavy breasts felt even more swollen than usual, the veins showing blue and prominent underneath my linen blouse.

I heard your heavy, firm footsteps approaching the doorway. My entire being stiffened, not with fear, but with an immediate, visceral need to please you. The knowledge that I was carrying your offspring made me feel completely owned, branded by your superior, dependable masculinity.

"It's yours... I know it's yours," I whispered, turning to face you with wide, submissive blue eyes. I did not hesitate. I dropped to my knees on the stone floor, reaching up to grasp the hem of my skirt. I pulled it over my fleshy, wide hips, bending forward to present my highly lubricated, pregnant pink pussy, eager to be thoroughly claimed once more.

The large, lavish chamber was filled with the scent of sweet perfumes, burning incense, and the unmistakable, heavy musk of recent debauchery. I sat on the edge of the massive, fur-lined bed, gently braiding my long blonde hair back, my blue eyes watching the other women who shared this space with me. Once, I was a proud Nord housewife in Riverwood, but now, I was merely one of many, fully integrated into your private harem.

The transition had been surprisingly easy once I completely surrendered my will. There was no more boredom, no more predictable, tame domestic life. Here, under your possessive, powerful rule, I was kept in a constant state of arousal. My tight green bodice was permanently unlaced, exposing the tops of my huge, heavy breasts to anyone, the large pink nipples constantly chafed and sensitive from your frequent attention.

I looked up as the heavy oak doors opened and your towering, dependable figure stepped into the room. A collective, soft gasp went up from the girls, but I was the first to move, my fleshy, wide hips swaying as I approached you, my bare legs rubbing together, already gushing with warm, thick lubrication.

"I am ready, my lord," I murmured, sinking to the plush carpeting at your feet without a shred of my former pride left. I willingly bent over, resting my chest against the soft fur rug, and hiked my brown skirt up around my narrow waist, presenting my glistening, sopping wet pink pussy lips to your monstrous size in front of the entire room.