What exactly happened when one stole from the Thieves Guild? Despite the irony, no one dared to question let alone break the rules that Mercer laid down to new recruits. Most assumed the punishment would undoubtedly lead to death in the end if you crossed the misanthropic Breton man. That assumption was correct…in most cases.
Brynjolf woke with a rough shake to his shoulder, opening his eyes to see his superior towering over him. Mercer's stone hard scowl was not Brynjolf's preferred first sight of the day. He blinked hard, trying to clear his groggy mind. He croaked out in a scratchy tone. "What?"
Mercer Frey rested his hands on his hips, seeming to be in a fouler mood than usual. "Get up, we have a thief."
Brynjolf propped himself up on his elbows, brow furrowed heavily as his mind tried to catch up to his mouth. "Well, we are the Thieves Guild…"
The Nord regretted his smart mouth at Mercer's glare, daring him to make another quip. "How observant," Mercer's tone dripped cruel sarcasm. "It's no wonder you are second-in-command."
Brynjolf eased himself to sit up, bare feet connecting with the cold stone of the cistern floor. He rubbed his eyes, opening his mouth to speak again, but was cut off by his superior.
"Come to the training room when you get yourself together. And for gods' sake, be more quiet." With that, the Guildmaster strode off across the Cistern center.
Bellethiel sat crossed legged on the hay covered floor of the guild she had just tried to rob blind. She was a thief by trade, accumulating enough wealth to purchase two houses in Skyrim over her few nineteen years. The wood elf was an indiscriminating thief, robbing caravans and nobles equally and having no qualms with swindling kids out of their parent's coin for 'magic candies'. Despite her talent and sheer love of the art of thievery, she had no desire to join the Thieves Guild centered in her favorite city.
She figured it would be unprofitable to join a failing guild that made their home in the sewers no less. Not to mention the countless thieves hailing from the Guild that she saw getting chased and then beaten to death by the city guard. That certainly was not a point in their favor.
She figured since they were already falling apart, then the loss of a few hundred septims wouldn't make a difference in their inevitable collapse. So, dressed in leather armor, black as pitch, she made her way through the ratways, snuck past the few still hanging around the Ragged Flagon at two in the morning and into the main head quarters of the guild.
A quick sweep of the place, and she deduced that the large golden doors at the very back of the circle was her best bet for wealth. She picked at the door for a bit, breaking countless picks before concluding that she would just have to find the key. A few pilfered pockets later and she found who she suspected was the Guildmaster, she rolled her eyes at how quickly she was able to retrieve the key without waking the man. No wonder the guild was failing with a man like that leading them.
Creeping back to the golden doors, she twisted the key, hearing the tumblers click open whisper silent and pushed open the door…to find the room empty. All she could do was stare dumbfounded at the empty chests.
Suddenly there was a hand clapping over her mouth, its twin gripping her neck and hauling her back. Stubble scrapped the side of her neck as a harsh, raspy voice whispered. "A smart thief would have moved on to the next best target after breaking twelve picks on a door."
Her eyes widened, this man had known of her presence for at least the last ten minutes, if not more. The hand over her mouth disappeared for a moment before a vial was passed under her nose. Suddenly her eyes dropped and sleeping in the middle of a hostile guild's headquarters sounded really appealing.
Waking up, Bellethiel's hands were bound and she was lying on the floor at the feet of the man who she had mentally admonished earlier for being a failure as a Guildmaster. Well wasn't that ironic.
He gave her a brief warning that she wouldn't make it a foot out of the guild if she tried running and she believed him. She decided to sit there as he left, trying to clear her mind and work out a good argument to get her out of this.
Not five minutes later he returned and she was finally able to get a good look at the man that had caught her. His blond hair had more than a few gray strands in it, but she would guess it was due to stress more than age, for his face, though creased, hinted at him being maybe around forty. Despite that, he was quite fit and his leather armor fit snug enough on his form to suggest he was nicely built.
She tried to reign in her wild thoughts from running all over the place, including the man before her. The elf tried her hardest to ignore the creeping fear at his silent, scrutinizing green gaze.
Mercer studied her intently, she was of average size for a wood elf, slighting a bit to Nord women. She showed a good amount of prowess; being able to sneak past Delvin in the Flaggon and flit amongst an entire guild of thieves for nearly half an hour completely undetected, save for himself. And then she proceeded to pick pocket five people before coming across what she was looking for in his pockets.
His thoughts drifted to her soft touch in his pockets and feeling feather light over the pouches on his armor in search for a key shape. The feeling was a tad more exhilarating than he chose to admit. Mercer's burgeoned admiration was only over shadowed by his unadulterated rage at the prospect of being stolen from.
If he were any less of a man he would have begun torturing her by now...well, if the walls were a tad thicker. He doubted her shrieks of agony would go unnoticed and he didn't want the Guild to think he was completely cold hearted…yet.
That was an interesting thought, he pondered to himself; making the little elf thief scream…
His thoughts were interrupted by Brynjolfs heavy approaching foot falls. Honestly, for a thief he is inexorably loud.
Bellethiel raised her gaze from the floor at the approach of another man. He looked confused at the first before looking down at her. Despite the circumstances, she flushed at the handsome Nord's gaze, embarrassment darkened her cheeks. She wasn't so flustered over his appearance, but rather that she knew him. Owning a house in Riften, it was only natural that she knew the local merchants, including the smooth talking swindlers. She wouldn't qualify herself as his friend, but they had shared a few flirtatious conversations. She could only hope he didn't recognize her.
He did. At the sight of the elf that owned Honeyside he was slightly taken aback. Brynjolf knew she was cautious when he tried to break into her house and found a seven tumbler lock on every door. He never would have guessed she was a thief herself, how funny.
Mercer observed how his prisoner flushed with embarrassment at Brynjolf's presence. The Breton surged with cruel joy at the prospect of the thieving little elf's humiliation. If he couldn't torture her, he cold at least make his mark on her, make her fear the thought of stealing ever again. He would be sure to instill humiliation and fear so deep into this woman that she wouldn't consider picking another lock for the rest of her life.
"Our little guest here managed to sneak into the vault." Mercers commented offhandedly, his steps slow and deliberate as he circled the girl sitting on the floor. She watched him with wary golden eyes, genuinely fearful of what he was doing.
Her wariness was justified as his hand shot down to grip her hair; she was hauled to her feet with a yelp of pain. He pulled her back to press against his chest, still facing the red headed Nord.
Her breath increased and she tried to stamp out the panic that was rising in her throat when Mercer's hand clamped around her jaw and tilted it to the side so she cold look into his hard green eyes. "I bet you thought that was so clever."
Brynjolf watched in slight envy at Mercer's hold on the woman, he would be a liar if he said that night he tried to break into her house that he didn't envision a hot romp in the sheets. His eyes met hers and she squeezed the amber orbs closed at Mercer's next set of words against her ear.
"Let's see just how clever you are, girl." She shuddered as the man's stubble scratched against her sensitive pointed ears, she could feel his smirk. The hand on her jaw trailed down, barely light enough for her to feel but just strong enough to make to squirm in discomfort at how her body was tingling.
Brynjolf quelled his envy as Mercer's well trained hands began unfastening belts and armor straps. As well worn leather began to drop to the floor, he spoke up. "Mercer…what do you think you are doing?"
Mercer's stone cold eyes caught Bryn's over his flushed captive's shoulder. His green orbs held no room for questioning from the Nord. "Exacting punishment, if you don't like it, leave. Shut the door on your way out."
Brynjolf's silver tongue betrayed him as Mercer's deft hands shed her of the leather armor in a matter of seconds. He watched as she bit down on her lip and squeezed her eyes shut, trying desperately to wish everything away. Bellethiel twisted in his grip, her attempts to divert him futile and only adding to the Breton's amusement. He had the hands of a thief, every touch ghosted over her flesh, so light she couldn't be sure she wasn't imagining it. Just like a noble wouldn't notice if he filched their purse, Bellethiel didn't notice when he slipped her leather off her form.
The damp cold of the sewers curled around her skin and she took in a ragged gasp, finally letting her eyes open again. She glanced down to find that her torso was only covered by her breast bindings.
Mercer's smirk was curling impossibly wide against her shoulder as he peered down at her. He could feel the tense embarrassment in her form coupled with her harsh breath that told of her excitement. The Guildmaster very well knew that she didn't want this, but he would break her, he would force her down to her knees and watch as her pride and dignity crumbled. His hands trailed across her smooth abdomen, feeling the flinching muscles right below the skin. She whimpered and shook her head as he toyed with the edges of her breast band, tugging the fabric enough to inch it down and make her panic. He had the full intention to curb her to his darkest of fantasies, whether she was willing or not.
Brynjolf swore he felt his tongue twisting itself into knots, objections and encouragements twisting together into an intelligible mass in his head. He knew this was wrong, she wasn't willing and he knew that he shouldn't just stand back and let Mercer take advantage of this girl. On his other shoulder was a little devil whispering lewd profanities into his ear.
Well if she is enjoying it…who says Mercer should be the only one to have any fun? He could awaken all the urges he would never dare to admitting.
He could save this girl form being taken advantage of.
He opened his mouth to stop his superior only for it to shut again as Mercer's fingers slipped under the material hiding her ample breasts. Her eyes snapped open at the action, meeting the Nord's briefly before her cheeks flamed an even deeper red and a whimper escaped her lips.
Mercer's trained fingers twisted her nipple sharply, rolling and pulling on it until it was beaded against his palm. Her squirming increased as she whimpered out protests, she shook her head and mentally screamed at herself, but it didn't stop heat from pooling in his loins. Once one nipple was sufficiently stiff his hands moved to the other, but not before yanking away the covering materiel completely. The Breton's wolfish smile strained as he sucked at the side of her neck, enjoying the way she was writhing in humiliation.
Brynjolf's mind went blank as the last article on her torso was discarded, giving him a view of her sizeable breasts peaked with erect rosy buds. His fingers twitched at the sight of his boss pleasuring the Elven girl, his sleeping clothes suddenly felt to hot and restricting.
Bellethiel's face burned as one strange man watched another play with her body, the line between whimpers of protest and pleasure was blurring at a disquieting pace. Her thighs squeezed together as the Breton nipped at her skin, adding light pain to the plethora of sensations already mixing in her mind. Her gaze locked with the Nord's and she couldn't pull away, she didn't know what she was trying to communicate to him. 'Save me?' or maybe 'Join in.' her mind had descended to the point to where she couldn't even tell.
Erotic charges pricked her skin when the man behind her dragged his short nails down her abdomen. Her breath hitched as he circled her belly button and traced the top of her leather pants.
Mercer's gaze shifted from his captive's exposed and exploited body to the man standing across from them. Just as he had predicted, Brynjolf couldn't bring himself to stop him from continuing and now there was no turning back.
He dipped his hand into Bellethiel's pants and under clothes, skimming over the patch of curls before coming in contact with her aching heat. She mewled and moaned lightly as his fingers explored her most intimate area, his fingers would alternate between carelessly skimming and firm strokes. Before she knew what was happening, she was softly rocking her hips in time with the Guildmaster's fingers.
Her cheeks were burning at the thought of Brynolf watching another man pleasure her. She stilled tried to lie to herself that she wasn't enjoying every movement of the Breton's fingers.
The tip of Mercer's finger traced circles around her clit, eliciting moans and harsh gasps as it graze sensitive nerves. Heat ran down his spine, member growing firm against his captive's backside. She flushed even more at the insistent bulge that pressed against her bottom, so close to where she was aching.
"You like this, don't you, elf girl."
Her eyes trailed up to Brynolf's and she tried to curl into herself and disappear, hearing Mercer taunt her shook he to the core. A deep groan slipped from her lips as a finger slid knuckle deep into her throbbing heat, her groan turned into a squeal when another finger joined it.
Her hips bucked as Mercer's thumb moved in rapid circles over her clit, making the pink nub throb with excitement. He grunted as her ass slid along his hardening manhood with every jolt of her body. It really had been to long.
His breath was heavy against her skin as her womb squeeze tight around his fingers, tighter than he ever thought was possible. She hissed in a breath through her teeth as his thumb stopped, only lightly resting on her clit. She squirmed her hips, his fingers still resting inside of her, filling her just enough to make her want more.
"Come girl, give my comrade and me a show." Mercer's husked voice slid into her ear, heating her body in humiliation. She looked up at the red headed Nord again, hesitance in her gaze.
At her lack of movement Mercer took the initiative, thumb pressing hard into her bud, she almost doubled over in pleasure. "I want you to finish yourself off on my fingers. Are we understood?"
Her submissive whimper increased his perverse joy, especially when her hips began to move. Bellethiel was uncertain at first, her movements uneven and unwilling, but she soon fell into a rhythm of bucking hips and stifled moans. His fingers remained unwavering and stiff inside her and she moved up and down as much as she could manage, spearing herself on his digits.
Mercer's manhood was aching to the point of pain at the elf's actions, and he could tell Brynolf was in a similar state. But his second in command couldn't feel her squeezing his fingers like a glove, or her ass grinding into his erection with every minute jolt, not even the slick fluid that was now dripping across his knuckles.
The shame at being subjected to pleasuring herself on another man's hand only seemed to add to the tight coil in her womb. Her walls throbbed and she could feel the bliss ebb and flow like a tide growing ever stronger.
Brynjolf's hands twitched to help her over her fall into bliss, if he had a moral conflict earlier, it was completely forgotten at the sight of a beautiful elf jacking herself off on his boss' hand. Her moans came at a progressively higher pitch as she neared completion.
Despite the intoxicating call of her body, Mercer had enough mind to pull away from the elf, much to her disappointment. She let out a disappointed whine that melted into a sob. Before she had a chance to move, she was being hauled across the room by her belt. Mercer led her over to the multitude of chests in the corner of the room before shoving her to her knees.
Her face flushed when he bent her over a chest, her ass presented to both men quite nicely. Her flush only deepened when the Breton pulled off her leather pants, prying them off her sweat shined skin to reveal her pulsating heat to the two gentlemen.
Brynjolf was still riveted to the same spot, but that didn't inhibit the show he was getting, nor the delicious looking body of the woman bent over a chest in front of him. Mercer knelt down behind her, a hand running admiringly over her rounded ass before trailing towards her center. He ran a finger down her slit and she nearly squealed, now she couldn't even see what was coming, she was completely at his disposal.
Mercer looked back at his second in command with a wolfish grin. "Why not enjoy our little minx, Brynjolf? Or are you just going to stand there gaping?"
"I…" For once the con man was out of words.
Mercer chuckled darkly while rubbing over her pink opening. "But she wants it so bad, she positively dripping. Isn't that right?"
The burn of humiliation wasn't enough to keep her from moaning as a finger slipped into her from behind, leisurely pumping into her and keeping her on the edge. She heard the shuffling of feet and with a strained look over her shoulder saw Brynolf coming closer slowly. Mercer could hardly keep down the sadistic chuckles that begged to be set free. Just the thought of making her take not only him, but Brynolf as well was strangely enjoyable.
He could see his subordinate breaking. Brynolf was never as controlled as Mercer, and if Mercer was aching terribly at her every mewl and whimper…
The Breton withdrew his fingers and she swore she was going to scream if he pulled away one more time. She was so very close to the most earth shattering orgasm of her life that she was almost crying. She felt his fingers drag briefly down her thigh in a show of how wet she was, of how she was indeed dripping with need.
Her hips jolted as a completely new sensation swept her heat, a deep moan escaped her lips and her thighs squeezed together in vain. Mercer's tongue drew lazily up and down her slit, occasionally flicking out at her clit and renewing her cries. He could literally feel her pulsing against his mouth, every throb of her folds in time with the throbbing of his own stiff member.
Out of the corner of his eye he saw Brynjolf draw closer and he knew it wouldn't be long till he caved into the pliant young body before him. He traced his slick tongue once more around her entrance before flicking over her erect pink clit, pressing firmly at it before rolling it between his teeth. His hands planted firmly on her hips and he could feel her trembling, he could practically feel the submission rolling off of her in waves and it heightened his own arousal.
His patience was waning with every gasp and unrestricted mewl that he wrench from her mouth, he lost care in what the Nord man was doing, instead deciding to speed her to her climax so he could fully savor fucking her until she fell unconscious.
Mercer's lips fastened around her clit, tongue like hummingbird wings as it stroked back and forth over her rosy bud. She gasped for air, the molten churning in her womb stealing the breath from her lungs. She had never had a lover as skilled as the man whose mouth covered her drenched, quivering entrance and her eyes rolled back in her head.
Her eyes snapped open as he suckled deeply on her bud, molten heat flowed from her cleft as she shuddered with orgasm, crying out as her vision whited out with the intense clenching and gushing of her core. The lightning strike of pleasure slowly ebbed into light waves of ecstasy.
Brynjolf didn't know if it was her cry or the way her body contorted in the midst of her orgasm, but he could hold back no longer. Throwing caution to the wind, he knelt before her, hands pulling at the laces of his trousers. He pulled out his engorged member, stroking it a couple times before placing a hand on the side of her face.
Seeing her so often in the market, or conversing in the Bee and Bard, he knew he would never see her in the same way again. He would only ever see those burgundy eyes glazed over with corrupt pleasure; only see her cheeks flushed at the sight of his manhood and her lips pursed against the leaking head as he urged it towards her.
The elf hesitantly parted her lips, brain fogged over in her post-orgasm state. Brynjolf's groan vaguely echoed in her ears as she opened wider, feeling the odd texture of his cock as it slid against her tongue. Salt and musk assaulted her senses as the man in front of her began to rock his hips lightly, trying to encourage her to play along. Hesitantly, she rubbed her tongue against the underside of his member, teasing where the head met the shaft in just the right way that made him shudder.
"Yes…" he groaned deep in his throat as his light thrusts came a bit faster. She took up the initiative, intoxicated with lust as she bobbed her head forward as he thrust in, taking as much of him as she could without choking. He was going light headed with how she flicked her tongue and closed her lips around him to suck as his twitching head.
Mercer smirked down at the pair, enjoying the show as he idly stroked himself. He looked away, not able to just watch his second in command receive her hot mouth without indulging himself.
Taking his fully hard cock in his hand, he traced the head up and down her dripping slit, rubbing it teasingly against her nub so as to remind her who was the alpha in thing situation. He could see her shoulders heaving with gasps as he poised himself at her entrance.
Without pause, he slipped in the tip of his engorged manhood. His own head twitched to toss back with ecstasy, but he stopped himself, he still had a good seven inches to fit into her tight little sheath.
She squealed around Brynjolf's shaft as another inch of Mercer's member slid into her. If she could she would have cursed at the sensation that was so much more intense then the teenage romps she had experienced before. With his slow pace she could feel every inch of him and every moment his cock ground against her sensitive inner walls. Finally his hips pushed flush against her backside and she was mewling disjointedly around Brynjolf – who was quaking at the sensation.
Mercer gave her a single moment to relish in the painfully stretching fullness before he started a rough pace. Each thrust sent her rocking forward onto Brynjolf as she howled around the pulsing member in her mouth. Mercer almost laughed at the sensation of her sheath constricting around him as he pushed her to orgasm in a matter of thrusts. His fingers dug deep into her skin - fisting her hips and waist, squeezing roughly at her backside – he couldn't seem to control himself. She was so much tighter than any loose whore he picked up in the taverns.
Coherent thought was absent as she was taken from both sides, she could hardly put effort to pleasing the man in front of her, though that didn't seem to deter him. At this point he could no longer hold back and try to be gentle with her, instead the hand twisted in her hair was busy dragging her head up and down as he rocked forward. He barely registered her gagging and much to his horror it pushed him closer to the interminable edge he was approaching. His thighs were quaking against her cheeks as he shoved her down to bury himself to the hilt in her throat. She felt hot jets of liquid pour down her throat, only fueling the fire that roared in her sheath, pushing her to second orgasm at Mercer's hands.
The guild master in turn was teetering on the brink as he felt her writhe; she was enjoying herself far more than she wanted to. His undoing was swaying on the edge and he needed it immediately. A hand dipped under her to pinch her clit, cruelly punishing her oversensitive body.
She thrashed against him, now that her mouth was free she howled out pleas. "Please don't…to much!"
Her eyes were wet with the overwhelming stimulation, so good it was on the brink of pain. Mercer only grinned malevolently, rolling her nub between his fingers despite her pleas. To add insult to injury, he preened in a gravely growl. "You want this, you harlot! Say you want it!"
She only moaned as Mercer's pace turned sporadic. "Fucking say it!" He punctuated his demand with another pinch of her over worked bud that sent her nearly arching off the chest as another release seized his shaft in her quivering core.
She cried out as her body tensed. "Yes! Please!"
Mercer growled in an almost animalistic fashion as his hips snapped forward, spilling his release into her pliant body. Mercer's shoulders heaved with the deep pants that followed, he couldn't remember the last time he had had such an excellent romp. The little elf was slumped over the chest, boneless and quivering. Brynjolf watched in glazed over awe, already on his way to fully aroused.
The Breton pulled out of her and waited a heartbeat to catch the sight of his and her mixed fluids trickle slowly out of her bright pink sheath with sick satisfaction. With a face-splitting smirk he landed a smack on her already bright pink backside. With stiff limbs he rose from his kneeling position, he strode around to be in front of her and gave Brynjolf a glare when he didn't move out of the way.
The second in command quickly got the hint and moved jerkily to the side in his stiff haste. Mercer knelt down once more, Bellethiel didn't make a move, still slumped over and panting in the after glow. He placed a gentle hand under her chin, almost as a lover would. Bending down low so his nose nearly brushed hers he whispered.
"Did you like all that cock, little elf?"
He saw her shoulders stiffen slightly, eyes turning into a shamed glare. He knew she enjoyed it, she wouldn't have been crooning like a harlot if she hadn't. His teeth flashed in the muted light off the practice room. "Lucky for you we aren't done yet."