It was late. General Tullius was sitting at his desk, poring over a missive from the Emperor. Titus Mede II (or his council, at least) had seen through the general's optimistic commentary on the reports. In spite of the fact that Riften was now under Imperial control, the numbers indicated that Imperial forces were stretched thin across Skyrim, and more and more were deserting every day.
The general sighed and rubbed his eyes.
The door creaked open.
"Who is it?" the general barked. "Didn't anyone ever teach you to knock?" He twisted around in his chair, thoroughly irritated.
A woman took several timid steps over the threshold. She lifted the veil that covered her face.
The general stiffened in his chair, his eyes widening with surprise. "Jarl Elisif?" he said loudly.
She nodded silently, her eyes flickering around the room. The general's desk was stacked high with papers and a candle burned low in the corner.
"I came to ask you for help with a… personal matter," she said quietly. "Is now a bad time?"
General Tullius looked at the desperately long and boring missive. "No," he said with a sigh. "Now's as good as ever. What do you need?"
Elisif's piercing blue eyes swept the room again, as though she were looking for something. The general noticed that her hands trembled a little. He'd never seen her look so uneasy.
"Is everything alright?" he prompted, turning his head to the side.
Elisif closed the door, took a deep breath, and turned around. "It's about my husband, General," she said. Her voice shook a little.
Tullius frowned. Surely she would know better than to come to him for consolation? The man had been dead for months now. There were more important things to worry about.
"As you know, Torygg and I were Talos worshippers."
"Elisif!" General Tullius gasped. He got up, went to the door, opened it, and peered out into the hall. After a moment he closed it again and returned to his seat.
"Sorry General, but everyone knows it. It doesn't matter what I say," Elisif said quietly.
"Still," Tullius said, scowling, "it's not a wise thing to say around here. Particularly with the Thalmor Embassy headquartered upstairs."
"Regardless," Elisif went on, "my husband wanted me to pay tribute to Talos in the event of his death. I want to hire a mercenary to take his war-horn to a hidden shrine near Whiterun."
General Tullius was shaking his head by the time she finished. "Elisif, surely you must be joking. I cannot condone Talos worship. If word got out that you of all people were—"
"And what of my husband?" Elisif murmured. "Surely you would not deny his widow the right to pay his tribute?"
The general sighed deeply. "Elisif, I'm under a lot of pressure here. The Emperor is beginning to question my leadership ability. If Elenwen catches wind of you paying tribute to Talos, she'll inform the Emperor at once. My reputation will be ruined. And you'll lose your throne."
Elisif's great blue eyes filled with tears. She dabbed at them with the hem of her veil.
"Now, now," General Tullius said kindly. He pulled out his handkerchief and offered it to her. "Trot up to bed. Your husband wouldn't want you to risk your crown just to hire some oaf to drop an old horn out in the boonies."
Elisif stared at the handkerchief but did not take it. She had to fight a sudden urge to slap it out of his hand.
The General's smile faded as Elisif stood there. There was something strange about her expression. It made him uneasy.
"There must be something I can do," she whispered without looking up.
General Tullius shook his head. When would it enter the woman's thick skull that every move she made reflected upon the empire? "There's nothing you can do to change the White-Gold Concordat, Elisif," he said coolly. "I'm sorry."
Elisif stood completely still for a long moment, her mouth set in a thin line. When she looked up, her eyes were like blue fire. She reached up and pulled the veil from her head. It slithered to the floor.
Tullius stared at it, confused.
Elisif proceeded to pull the shawl from her shoulders, revealing her white silk nightgown. The shawl fell beside the veil.
"Elisif," General Tullius said, his eyebrows knotting together, "what're you—"
In a single motion, Elisif pulled her nightgown up over her head, revealing a lace bra, panties, and a set of long white stockings.
The general's jaw dropped. His eyes popped out of his head. Elisif had long legs, full hips, a tiny waist, and beautiful round breasts that strained against her bra. Her skin was as smooth and pale as the moonlight. She was lovely.
He looked up into her face, incredulous.
She walked up to him, her hips swaying with each step, her cold blue eyes locked on his. Leaning on the arm of his chair, she bent over him. "There must be something I can do," she repeated. This time her voice was low and breathy.
The general swallowed noisily. The smell of her perfume and the intensity of her gaze rendered him speechless.
Elisif inclined her head and leaned forward slowly. She hesitated with her lips inches from the general's. He closed his eyes in anticipation, forgetting to breathe.
She kissed him lightly, tantalizingly. Her lips were soft and full and sweet.
He was so stunned that he didn't kiss her back at first. Then something inside of him snapped. He mashed his lips against hers, stroking her face and neck with one hand. It'd been so long… so long.
Their kisses grew longer and heavier. The general wrapped his arms around Elisif's body and drew her closer. After several minutes, the he pulled his face away, gasping for breath. "Elisif… I…"
"Say you'll let me do it," she said, suddenly fierce. "Say it!"
The general looked at her. Her waist and buttocks were silhouetted against the flickering candlelight; he ran a hand down lower back, marveling at the silky smoothness of her skin—
"Say it," she snapped.
The general swallowed hard. "A-Alright," he stammered at last. "You can hire someone to take the horn to the shrine."
Elisif reached behind her back and unclasped her bra. It fell the floor and her breasts sprang free, bouncing and lulling. With a groan, General Tullius drew one of them to his face, nuzzling it. The hard, pink nipple seemed to beg to be sucked, so the general took it in his mouth with an obscene slurping sound.
Elisif grabbed the general's shirt and tugged it up around his ribcage. He released her breast with a wet pop, lifted his arms, and allowed her to pull the garment up over his head. He lifted his hips helpfully as she unbuttoned his pants and slid them over his knees and onto the floor.
Then, looking him in the eye, she undid the leather belt around his waist and pulled his underwear off of him. His liberated member sprang up in the dim light, its tip gleaming wetly.
Elisif walked around to the front of the chair and climbed up into it, straddling the general's legs, smiling seductively. Her breasts dangled in front of her, gleaming with saliva. Arcing her spine and poking her ass out, she allowed the general to slip a finger beneath the waistband of her panties and drag them down her legs.
The general groaned with pleasure as he ran his hands down Elisif's naked body. This woman of Torygg's was not called Elisif the Fair for nothing. He took her breast in his mouth again and ran his hands along her comely backside.
Elisif reached down and wrapped her hand around the general's shaft. She tugged it, squeezing down a little harder than was necessary, and he threw back his head and groaned deeply. Then she positioned herself over him and eased herself onto his cock.
It wasn't so bad, she thought as she began to bounce up and down. He grabbed her buttocks and squeezed them tightly in his hands. As she bounced, her tits slapped him in the face, flecking him with his own saliva. He made a show of moaning and searching for her nipple with his open mouth, his eyes half-closed and dreamy.
Elisif closed her eyes. It would be easy, now, to allow her mind to wander. She tired to imagine that the general's narrow hips were actually Torygg's—that his languid moans were actually Torygg's masculine grunts—that he cock she rode was a Nord's—thick and hard as stone.
To her surprise, it worked.
"Oh," she breathed, rocking and forth, up and down. Tears filled her eyes but did not fall. "M-My love."
The general moaned and caught her breast in his mouth. He began to grind his pubic bone against her clit.
She gasped, reaching up to grab fistfuls of Torygg's long red locks. When her hands encountered nothing but short, coarse, white hair, she let them fall. She put them on the general's shoulders instead, leaning on him, thrusting up and down as she worked his cock deeper inside her.
She remembered the night when Torygg had picked her up out of bed and carried her into the dark throne room.
"Where are we going?"she'd asked sleepily.
"To play king and queen," he'd replied.
He'd sat on his throne, smiling indulgently as his wife sashayed around the room in nothing but a cape and a tiara. She'd loved every bit of it: the darkness, the danger of being overheard, the worshipful look on her husband's face as he watched her remove her cape. She'd climbed onto his lap and ridden him long and hard that night.
She was hardly able to walk the next day.
"Oh Elisif," General Tullius moaned, bringing Elisif back to the present. The sight of her tits bouncing in his face made his member throb.
Elisif's breaths increased as she moved her hips back and forth, up and down. A light sweat had broken out over her body and her skin gleamed in the dim light. The general slapped her ass once, twice, a third time. It stung.
Torygg, my love, come back to me, she thought desperately.
On their wedding night, he'd made love to her quite tenderly. He'd looked straight into her eyes the whole time—whispering his undying affection, peppering her face with kisses. "My darling Elisif, today I am the luckiest man in the world," he'd said when it was over, taking her into his arms and pressing his lips into her hair.
"Tell me you love me," General Tullius suddenly demanded, his eyes on her face.
Elisif swallowed the bile that rose in her throat. "I love you."
The general let out a deep groan and threw his head back. Elisif felt him explode inside her. He lifted himself out of his seat, thrusting against her. For a moment he was still, all except his lips, which moved wordlessly.
Elisif wasted no time in getting off of him when it was over. She located her bra and panties and slipped into them quietly. Then she picked up her nightgown and drew it up over her head.
The general gaped at her; he was still quite dazed.
Elisif put on her shawl, then her veil. Don't cry! she thought desperately. She tried to suppress the choking sensation in her throat, but her mouth was working and her eyes were smarting.
"Elisif," the general said, finally seeming to come to his senses.
She turned around, thanking the gods that her veil covered most of her face.
The general studied her for a moment. "Make sure it's someone trustworthy," he said slowly.
Elisif nodded. Without another word, she turned and stumbled out into the hallway.
"Forgive me, my love," she whispered. He would have. She knew it.
The tears came anyway.