Warnings: This story contains extreme dubcon bordering on noncon, Stockholm syndrome, an abusive relationship with a severe power imbalance, and Aela has a penis.


Aela's POV:

It's not unheard of for members of The Inner Circle to take lower ranking members as lovers. Vilkas and Farkas have both been known to take younger members "under their wings" until they finally smarten up and realize they can do better. Vilkas even went as far as proposing a man he was seeing become a member of the Inner Circle. The only reason his temporary love isn't a werewolf is because Skjor and I have better sense than to let anyone who walks in receive the blessing of Hircine. Skjor himself hasn't taken anyone to bed since his last love found herself on the receiving end of a dagger slipped between her ribs courtesy of the Silver Hand.

I've just never found myself pulled towards anyone in that manner. An occasional night of romance and fun might appeal every now and then; however, I always want them gone in the morning. Even people I get "attached" to last little longer than the week I first meet them. Whether it's due to me losing interest or simply being inadequate as a partner is still a topic of debate between the other members of the Companions. For my part, it matters little and less if I have someone in my life to walk beside me. The gift bestowed upon me by Hircine is more than enough to sate any urges I have for fellowship and love. A long, silent night of stalking the forests is the best cure whenever loneliness pricks my heart.

I'd have been content to wander alone forever had Vilkas not met the Khajiit woman in the marketplace and offered to test her skills in battle. I'd first caught a glimpse of her in the living quarters as Vilkas escorted her outside to "practice" after introducing her to Kodlak. I'd barely paid her any mind and hadn't even realized who she was until later in the day. It was only as I was talking to Skjor about going on a hunt that I'd been formally introduced to the woman. A gentle rap of the knuckles against my door was all the warning I got before turning and suddenly having my heart shoved in my throat.

The sleek, lithe figure of a pale Khajiit caused my face and neck to flush with blood before an unusual hardness began to stir further down my body as my blood rushed either up or down. It sounds like a cliche, but I'd never felt anything so immensely strong or immediate for another person in my entire life. Piercing eyes and a devilish grin snapped me back to myself as the woman offered me my own polished shield. All I can do is offer a grunt of thanks as I take the weapon from her. Skjor is saying something to someone about something, but all I can focus on is the siren who now stands before me. Skjor reaches for her to take his hand in hers as a greeting and I feel a sense of possessiveness consume me.

I swallow my growing growl as greetings are exchanged and Farkas is summoned. I've finally gotten enough of my facilities back I'm at least able to dumbly sit and stare at everyone as introductions are finished and the Khajiit leaves with Farkas to see where she'll be resting her head. The woman gives me an awkward wave in farewell before exiting. I'm still looking longingly after her like an abandoned puppy when a slight nudge from Skjor brings me fully back to myself.

"You know, you don't have to glare at her just because you're not a fan. At least try to give the pup a chance before frightening her. We can't run off everyone who wants to join.". He gives me a firm grasp on the shoulder as he tells me those parting words and likewise exits my room. My heart sinks and my cock quickly goes flaccid. The beautiful woman who presented herself before me is going to be frightened off if what Skjor is implying about my outward appearance is correct.

In truth, the only reason I didn't snap back to reality quicker is because of the mental images that swarmed my mind whenever the Khajiit offered me a smile as she handed me my shield. Perverse, unspeakable fantasies of her and I together clouded my head and caused my temporary lack of both intelligent thought, speech, and ability to move for fear my hardness would be visible at a different angle.

Usually, I try to be gentle towards my lovers and let them take the lead. Most fantasies I can conjure involve romantic trysts in the moonlight with sparkling wine and fine food. I've always seen myself as a protector who takes the time to prepare my women before sticking my prick inside them. The thoughts that consumed my mind with the Khajiit as the star were much less "caring".

Even now, I can feel myself growing hard again at thoughts of the woman crying and weakly fighting as I repeatedly slam myself into her. My imagined loving embrace turns into an iron cage as I think of a dozen different positions and ways to force myself into the other woman's tight, unwilling channel. I can only imagine the soft whines and pathetic pleas as the woman would beg me over and over to slow down and be gentler in my ravaging.

I consider locking my door and taking a few minutes for myself; however, I can her laughter and celebration coming down the hall as our newest member is welcomed and toasted. I swallow the growing lump in my throat and take slow, deep breaths until my hardness subsides. Regardless of whatever I might feel for the woman, I can't remain frozen any longer. Besides, Farkas has most likely recommended she seek out work from either Skjor or me. I need to be somewhat composed should the Khajiit come looking for me. After all, fantasies and reality are two different things.

I'm putting my shield away when soft footsteps warn me that my prediction is correct. When I turn, the other woman is only a few feet away from me with a warm, inviting smile across her face. The Khajiit has changed into more appropriate gear befitting a member of the Companions: leather armor, hide boots, and fur gauntlets. All the gear is worn and weathered to the point it's more grey than brown, but it'll have to do until the woman's earned her keep enough to get better gear from the forge. Her eyes begin to scan my room as she tells me what I already know.

"Farkas told me you might have some work for me. He also said you might be able to spare a bow and some arrows.". I normally hate to part with bows and usually I only hand them out with the promise of getting them back. I've even been known to make some less trustworthy new members leave their boots or helms behind to assure I'm compensated should they "forget" to return my property.

I'm even less inclined to give out any of my personal arrows. I've only even handed out the arrowheads themselves and told new members to go find a smith who can show them how to make their own. For the Khajiit, though, I think I'd just about part with my own arm if she said she needed it. The woman's calm, friendly demeanor hardens a bit as I take a step forward to close the gap between us.

A part of me warns myself to pull back and try to make the situation less awkward. Another, stronger part of my mind wins out and tells me to push through by acting as if the small amount of distance separating us is a normal distance at which to have a conversation with another person.

"I'd be more than happy to give you a bow and arrow, and I have more than enough work for you. There's actually a boar nearby I've been meaning to bring down for some time. Would you like to go hunting with me?". I can see the war raging behind the woman's beautiful, amber eyes. Some feral, instinctive part of her is trying to warn her I'm dangerous and not to be isolated with me. The more "civilized" part of her brain is telling her to stop being paranoid and to accept an offer of a hunting trip with someone of a higher rank than her.

I'm certain the fact I'm a high-ranking member of the Companions is what finally sways her and makes her nod in affirmation. In her mind it's probably obvious that someone so publicly visible and well-known has to abide by the laws of the land. "Heroes" such as I aren't known to have ulterior motives or a desire to cause harm to those who are innocent and virtuous. The worst part is I was secretly praying her instincts would win out and she would politely decline.

The "intelligent" part of me is trying to be rational and make the situation "acceptable". I'm even doing my best to "rationalize" my actions as I begin to pack bows, arrows, and supplies for the hunt while the Khajiit woman contents herself with watching my back.

I'm not going to hurt her, I'm not a monster. I just want to spend some time alone with her and get to know her. Is it so wrong a beautiful woman such as her gets courted by a woman such as myself?

My thoughts begin to creep towards more perverse ideas.

I'm a strong warrior and I can give her strong heirs. It just makes sense I would be interested in her. A nice, quiet walk away from civilization is just the thing to get to know her. I don't have ulterior motives. I'm just doing my best to impress a woman who gets my tongue all tied up. I'm sure I've come off as a little desperate, but being desperate isn't a crime.

I find myself struggling more and more to ignore the hardness between my legs.

My cock is throbbing, and my mouth is dry; still, those are normal for people just going out on a nice walk in the dark, lonely woods where nobody can hear someone screaming for help. Even if I was taking her out to the woods for some nefarious purpose such as pounding her cunt until she can't walk straight, that doesn't make me a monster. She hasn't revoked her consent or anything; oblivion, she hasn't even been asked yet! For all I know she could jump me the second we're secluded and try swallowing my dick.

My rationalization fails me as I find myself discreetly grabbing a sleeve of lamb intestine. I might want a loving, caring relationship with the woman, but some part of me wants the exact opposite. I want her crying and fighting as I pump into her like there's no tomorrow. Sick, twisted scenes run through my mind: the woman chained and kept naked and bloody in my room for my use whenever I see fit, her sobbing face swollen and bruised as I hold her down in the dining hall for all to see as I claim her, and the image of her growing fat with my bastards as I keep her collared and bound all flit through my head in an instant.

I swallow a knot in my throat as I come to the realization that I don't want to use the lamb intestine and would much rather watch the Khajiit sob as my seed leaks out of her abused pussy. I hope I'm her first. I hope she begs me not to and bleeds like a stuck pig when I claim her as my own. I shake those thoughts away and finally gather the courage and face the woman once again with my supplies now firmly on my back. She offers me a weary smile.

"Are you ready to go?". I feel my prick stiffen and have to fight the urge to jump her right here and now.

"I've never been more ready in my entire life.".


Author's Note:

Hey,

It's been a while. So, thought I'd leave a note. I've been gone for 3 years going to grad school and getting licensure, so that's why I stopped writing and some of you assumed I died. I didn't die, I was just in another country becoming an LPC. So, now I'm home and kind of hanging out. Figured I'd write for fun. IDK about the other stories, but this one is fun to write so I'm going to do that for a bit.

Sincerely,

TheKhajiitWarrior