I hum as I work the slab of my wife's flesh, slicing patterns into the still warm fur. When I've cut out enough fur for gloves I have a decent amount left over, but push it to the side for later. Then, I grab a sewing needle and begin making the actual gloves. My wife's flesh is warm and bleeding, but I'm still able to finish the gloves. However, I only made two of them. It's just so natural to forget about my extra arms. I shrug it off and put the gloves on my dominant hands, my clawed one nearly ripping through the Khajiit's flesh. I can't help smiling as I look at the gloves, the clothing still oozing red liquid. A knocking on my door interrupts my admiring.

I sigh, stand, and make my way over to the door. My brother gulps when he sees the look on my face, but manages to gather the courage to say, "Sarieh has returned. She's put the slaves up in the holds, taken care of her crew, and wants an audience with you.". I nod and snarl, "Lead me to her.". He turns and flees, but I always manage to stay only a few feet behind him. Through twist and turns, up stairs and down, and finally we reach Srieh's room. It appears she moved to be closer to the slaves, although I have no idea why she would want to do that. I shrug it off and walk inside, dismissing my brother before I go. Sarieh waits for me at a table, a glare smoldering on her face. I can't help sighing. This isn't going to be fun.

Sarieh POV:

I impatiently sit in my seat, my foot tapping. I've heard all about Aeta's exploits while I've been gone, and I ever stopped by the dungeon to look at the Khajiit. When I saw her the skin on her stomach was missing, her shoulders were dislocated due to hanging for hours, and I'm certain she was at least somewhat claimed by my sister. I would have liked to question the beast, but she was unconscious for some reason. It crossed my mind to try to rouse her, but didn't care enough. However, I still care about the possible consequences of what my sister has done.

Kidnapping her wife seemed like a good idea on paper, but it's clear it isn't a good idea in action. I'm certain my ship was spotted on the way into the harbor, and if Rikke sends a scout out we're all fucked. If the scout dies she'll send others until one finally comes back. The surviving scout will report slaving, a highly forbidden practice in Skyrim. Rikke will lead a charge, and there's nothing we can do to stop it. If Rikke finds her lover in her current condition, then she'll torture all of us to death. The smart thing to do would be to slit the Khajiit's throat, and burn the body when we're done. But my sister is stubborn and prideful, so she'll never consent to that. As if on cue my sister walks in, her head held high and her tail swinging. She scoffs when she sees me, pulling out her chair and flopping down into it.

When she's settled she snarls, "What?". I rub my temples as I tell her, "Abandon this. Abandon all of this. Kill the slaves, kill the Khajiit, and take the family up into the hills of The Reach. We can't win this, we can't even come close. Save the family, your pride, and time by taking my advice.". Aeta slams her fist on the table, roaring, "You dare to question me?!". I sigh and nod, then tell her, "We've made grave mistakes, but we can fix them.". My sister suddenly looks paranoid as she whispers, "Who's gotten these ideas in your skull?".

Her face suddenly twist in anger as she snarls, "It was my wife, wasn't it?! I swear I'll cut that woman's tongue out!". Before I can react she violently stands, turning and storming away. What happened to my calm and calculating sister I left behind? I don't have time to contemplate that, I get up and charge after her. When I finally catch up to her she's pulling her wife's jaws apart, the beast kicking and screaming. Aeta snarls and pulls a knife from her belt, shoving it into the woman's mouth. Holy fuck, she can't do that! Kill the woman, but don't cut out her tongue! If Rikke gets her back and she's unable to talk, then she'll make sure to do the same to us before killing us. I rush over to the grappling pair, yanking the demon off the woman. The Khajiit's eyes betray her thankfulness, her tongue only slightly scratched.

I couldn't care less about the woman, but I'm at least glad she still has her tongue. I turn around to face my sister, the punch nearly knocking me to the ground. I manage to steady myself, grabbing on to the wall for support. My sister's eyes flare in anger as she snarls, "Traitor!". I shake my head and explain, "I'm not a traitor, I'm just watching out for you.". Aeta once again swings at me, but I dodge her. However, I can't dodge the hoof that collides with my face. The beating is quick, but extremely painful. I try to fight against my sister, but she's far more powerful.

When she final stops attacking me she pushes me to the ground, my sides heaving as I pant and try to regain my thoughts. Aeta stands over me, snarling, "Leave. I never want to see your face again.". I open my mouth to say something, but my sister throws me out of the room. She slams the door on me, the last sight I see the Khajiit struggling against her bonds. I slowly stand, my backward knees shaking. I shake my head, grim acceptance washing over me. I brought my sister back to life, did her bidding, and didn't kill her 'pet' when I should have. If she wants to call me a traitor after that, then I'll show her a traitor. I go to the stables, find Aeta's favorite horse, and mount it. My siblings give me odd looks as I leave, but I couldn't care less. If I'm going to be called a traitor, then I'll be a bigger traitor than Ulfric Stormcloak.

Aeta POV:

My wife screams as I unchain her, blood slowly leaking out of her mouth. I haven't taken out her tongue, but I will as soon as I'm done taking my pleasure from her. As I unchain her my wife kicks out, scoring another hit to my balls. I once again find myself on the ground, cradling my injured testicles. My wife tried to escape last time, but this time she presses the attack. I allow her to score a few hits, then grab on to her foot and yank her leg out from under her. She falls to the ground on her back, and I quickly climb on top of her. My balls are going to be heavily bruised and swollen, but I'm determined to use my wife like the whore she is.

But first I need to do something about her dislocated shoulders, it won't be any fun if I end up having to saw off her arms. So, I reach down and grab her arms, twisting and pulling on her joints. She screams loud enough to hurt my ears, the joints going pop as they're forced to return to where they belong. I smile at my work, now time to get to the fun part.

I reach down, bite onto my wife, and force my cock from its sheath. Our roars of pain mingle, hers from her shoulder and mine from my penis. I wait a few moments, then release my wife and look down. My penis has never been attractive, but now it's downright hideous. The red and throbbing organ is now speckled with blue and black, a few of the spikes broken or missing.

The remaining spikes are surrounding the head and base of my decent sized cock, a few spikes gracing the sides of the penis. And, now that it's out it refuses to go back inside. My admiring is cut off by a foot hitting me, barely brushing my cock. I pin my wife down more securely, rip apart her legs, and snarl, "Bitch!". She keeps fighting, still trying to find a way to kick my genitals. Damn it, I need to teach her why she should never cross me. Then, I'll rip her tongue out.

I line up with her cunt and fire my hips forward, but only the head manages to go in. I snarl and keep pushing, my wife screaming and flailing beneath me. I keep trying to fit, but it's just not happening. My wife isn't making it easy, she's dry as a bone, I don't have any oil, and my cock is larger than a normal man's. Damn, I'll use her cunt later, right now I'll use her mouth. My wife seems relieved when I finally pull out, a bit of blood sticking to the tip of my penis. However, she fights even harder when I line the head of my cock up with her lips, but she isn't strong enough to stop me from ripping her jaws open.

I can't shove my cock down her throat without killing her, but I don't care if her mouth is ripped apart. It might even make it easier to cut out that wagging tongue of hers. My wife tries to punch my balls as I fuck her mouth, but a hoof to her wrist stops her. I smile as she flails, spasms, and tries to scream around the penis shoved in her mouth. I consider calling her demeaning names and beating her, but it takes enough energy trying to hold her in one place.

My non-dominant hands are yanking at her mane, trying to add a little humiliation to the situation. Finally, I feel my beaten balls clenching. I freeze, the Khajiit fighting with renewed vigor as she realizes what's going on. I'm smiling to myself at a job well done, until I realize I've taken my hands off her skull to adjust my sweaty hair. My wife seems to realize it to because she suddenly bites down.

My head is the only part that's still in her mouth, and it's a particularly thin area. My scream of agony and fear is probably heard throughout all of Skyrim, my cock still in my wife's biting jaws. I begin punching her head with all four of my fist, but that doesn't stop the woman. As she bites she continually punches my balls, the pain almost causing me to pass out. But my demonic blood is strong, and I somehow manage to keep standing. The woman kneeling before me finally releases my cock for a nanosecond, then bites down harder than before. My fists rain down even faster and harder than before, but I'm only able to free myself when my wife stops.

And, the only time she stops is when she's successfully done her job. When I stumble away from her I roar even louder, sliding to the ground as I cup my spewing cock. I'm going in to shock, but I force myself to use a flame spell on my penis. It stops the bleeding, and numbs the organ a little. I can't stand, but I manage to crawl over to my wife. I grab her throat and slam her to the ground, shakily looming over her.

I'm heaving, but manage to whisper, "Bit-". I'm cut off by my wife spitting a mix of blood, seed, and cock skin into my face. The goop sticks to my face, the head of my cock hitting me before rolling away. I shake my head and roar at my wife, the woman not even blinking at my mighty sound. I manage to snarl, "Fine, let's get to work.". I jam my hand into her mouth. I don't have my knife with me, but my claws will do just fine.

Note: I've made a decision to begin chopping paragraphs into smaller chunks. I enjoy it, and I hope you do also.