Miraak stood tall in the centre of the platform, his back ramrod straight. His three dragons were perched high on pillars of ruin overlooking the barren land that was Apocrypha. The first Dragonborn had been found out. His escape plan had failed. His fists clenched at his side (the only movement he permitted) as the Prince gurgled in laughter.
"I see all," the amorphous blob that was Hermaeus Mora bubbled, the inky black tentacles spread wide across the sky. It was meant to be imposing, but to Miraak, it was nothing but posturing (and if it wasn't, all the better, Mora could not torture him more than he already had). Thousands of years spent alone with nothing but Seekers, Lurkers and the sounds of fluttering pages had been seared into his very being.
He'd gone mad a few times. He was able to admit this to himself.
An eyebrow twitched from behind his mask as Mora's mass of tentacles writhed above his head. He would not give Mora the satisfaction of seeing him angry, knowing that he'd failed again, let the Prince gloat. He'd ground his teeth into dust before he'd react.
"Your pathetic attempts.... amuse me.... greatly," he continued, in his warbled voice that grated on Miraak's nerves like iron nails on glass. "I should let you....nnmmmmm... believe you have succeeded next time."
Despite not showing a reaction, Miraak's heart leapt painfully in his chest, filled with fear. Mora was quite capable of doing this, and he didn't know if he could take that.
Not that it mattered, there was no escape from Apocrypha (not that he believed this...he had to trust he would).
He could not starve himself. The Seekers and Lurkers never attacked him, even if he struck them, or killed them. They just, came back. He'd thrown himself in the black tar below on a few occasions and apart from the searing pain before he'd lost consciousness, he'd wake up right back on this very platform every gods be damned time.
He'd been granted one boon. A watery sphere that allowed him to see the ongoings of Nirn. It was more torture than pleasure and he'd stopped looking into it many years ago. He'd realized fairly quickly that Hermaeus Mora, despite being neutral (whoever had said this obviously had never spent five thousand years with the Prince), harboured quite the cruel streak.
A Black Book was dropped suddenly right in front of Miraak. The Dragonborn didn't move, despite being surprised. He did tilt his head to the side curiously though. Now why would Mora do that?
As he stared at the Black Book, it opened as though invisible hands were doing it. The pages fluttered as they went from one end of the book to the other, as though the wind were doing it (though there was no wind here). He remained still as a statue, staring at the book through the slits of his mask, contemplating what to do.
The book finally stopped, right in the middle by the looks of it, and a burst of light flashed from it. Miraak had to avert his head a tad to protect his sensitive eyes.
"Why don’t I give you...... mnnnnnnnn ... something to ... stave your boredom?" the Prince continued, a twitch of amusement in the voice that made the hairs on the back of Miraak's neck rise. "Your flight....mmnmm... will be but a memory."
Miraak's eyes narrowed, and as the light died down, he caught sight of a crouched, slight female...? Breton by the looks of her. He didn't even have time to react before one of Mora's inky limbs slapped the tiny female hard in his direction. He was surprise to note she flew almost to his feet.
There was a bow that had been attached to her back that was sent flying into the tar pits. Arrows were spilled out of her quiver as she landed on her stomach, he heard the air rush out of her painfully. Miraak was looking down at her when she raised her head and emerald green eyes widened as they rose very slowly to meet the tentacled-mask he wore.
She gasped, the sound of her voice tensing his body (he actually growled). There was no mistaking the fear in her wide eyes, but he didn't get to ponder it for long before she was seized by tentacles. She squeaked and screamed as she was suspended in the air by her wrists.
His thought never fully formulated in his mind for it was cut off abruptly as tentacles snatched him from his position with lightning speed. His arms were pulled back behind his back taut, and secured in a way that he could not break free from. He tried to remain calm as Mora spread his legs apart, all his muscles had tensed. They had to be about ten feet off the ground...
Miraak was forced to arch back, his legs folded at the knees but spread as far as they would go without causing him much harm (discomfort, yes). The cold tentacles were wrapped around his legs, holding him steady that he had almost no room to move. All of his robes were pulled tight against his skin, the leather gloves he wore creaked as his hands fisted behind his back.
"Company?" Miraak scoffed, raising his face to look up at the blob overhead, keeping his voice as level as possible.
"What's going on?" her voice trembled with suppressed fear. Miraak's teeth ground harder together as Mora's limbs approached the both of them.
Two black limbs wrapped around his throat simultaneously, one going up and the other downwards. Mora invaded his mask and the arm sunk itself into his mouth without any warning, choking Miraak effectively. This, he had not expected, nor ever wanted...
He gagged and coughed around the limb that forced itself into his mouth. It tasted exactly as one would expect, if one were to taste a Daedra Prince. Mold, mothballs, tar and dust, all blended into one flavour of Oblivion goodness. This effectively silenced him, except for his gurgling. His pets would not be coming to his rescue this day.
The second limb slid into the top of his robes. His skin prickled in gooseflesh at the cold touch of the Prince. He swallowed (this was difficult with the appendage in his gullet) and fought the revulsion, he couldn't stand the ethereal feel of those arms. Mora wanted to unbal—
"Nnngh," he actually gargled uncontrollably.
Had he not been wearing a mask, he knew for a fact that his face would have betrayed his shock and horror (he was glad he was wearing the mask, he didn't want her to see him sucking on a tentacle). Hermaeus Mora's tentacles had ripped the front half of his robes, exposing his chest and stomach, the influence of the Daedric Prince was clearly evident for all to see. He'd been in Apocrypha for so long that not only had his eyes blackened completely, but the very blood pumping through his veins had turned black. His own veins had stained his skin, marring his white flesh with spiderweb patterns of black lines.
He clenched his eyes closed tightly as the tentacle continued down his body to his pants. He shook his head furiously, trying to dislodge the limb, but it only sunk deeper into his throat. He choked and coughed and stilled immediately, his back was painfully arched.
He regained control of himself and forced his body to ease. He would not show anything.
The tentacle slid beneath the waist of his pants and he shuddered as he felt the limb crawl down his leg. He wanted to pull away or close his legs in the worst way but he was helpless to do anything, enraging him further. He kept calm, he had too.
His eyes snapped open as his ears picked up more tearing noises and a shrill female scream that turned to uncontrollable sobbing and begging. "P-Please! S-stop!"
He heard the sound of armour falling to the ground and he raised his head to look at the female. He stifled the gasp that almost escaped his lips, or would have had he not been gagged.
Mora had stripped her completely bare (how long had it been since he'd seen the female form?). There she was. Utterly naked, her arms above her head. Black, slithering tentacles grabbing and squeezing her breasts in a vulgar imitation of a man's hands. Her skin was glimmering with cold sweat, small beads of it covered her flesh. He couldn't escape the sharp tang of her fear. It permeated the air around him.
She was squirming and struggling within Hermaeus Mora's grasp so much, that the Prince chuckled heartilly, like a jolly fat man. He waited until she was spent before switching her position. He'd re-arranged her so that her arms were behind her back as well, her breasts pushing forwards, the tentacles tweaking her nipples drawing his eyes involuntarily.
The act made Miraak bite down on the limb in his mouth. It thickened and he almost fainted from lack of oxygen. That had been a warning.
Her legs were spread wide, black arms were wrapped around her thighs and ankles, making and M out of her legs. Another limb was rubbing against her sex, forcing her to be aroused. Miraak's nostrils flared and he made another attempt to free himself; the Dragonborn knew that Mora was going to wrap those small, muscular legs right around his waist. As if to confirm:
His scream was muffled when the tentacle in his pants ripped them away from him, rendering him as nude as the day he was born, well not exactly, just the pertinent parts as his arms and legs were still fully clothed. Heat flooded his face as his trousers hung from his folded knees in tatters. Leaving him completely exposed to the naked female in the same predicament as him. His humiliation, however, was not complete.
The Prince brought the female closer to Miraak and the first Dragonborn could not mistake the stench of fear that invaded his senses, mixed in with the sweet smell of her sex. He'd smelled nothing but books, pages, mold and mothballs for so long that her particular scent caught him completely off guard. He was rocked to his very core when he felt his dick twitch beneath her terrified eyes.
She was afraid.
And then Mora completed his torment. The tentacle crawled back up his muscular thigh deliberately (Mora knew how much he hated his touch...) and Miraak couldn't prevent the noise that escaped his mouth, the muffled scream of protest. Hermaeus had wrapped his limb around the base of Miraak's penis, and tightened painfully, forcing the blood to remain in his dick and causing an involuntary erection.
It was like he'd been wrapped with ice. The first Dragonborn struggled for all he was worth, growling angrily around the tentacle down his throat as all his efforts were for naught. Mora merely chuckled hollowly.
More heat flooded his face when he finally stopped moving, he was covered in a film of sweat, his heart pounding in his head like a war drum. He tried to fight the embarrassment slowly creeping into his body; he closed his eyes tightly, but shame flooded him anyways, his blush, however, darkened his skin almost to black rather than the red of Ages past.
When she shrieked, Miraak winced. She doubled her efforts, panic in her voice, he deigned to look at her from behind his mask. She was staring at his groin in absolute horror and Miraak couldn't help but feel self conscious all of the sudden. He knew what he looked like...and he also knew that the black veins around his cock (the glan was fully black as were his testes) and over the rest of his body looked about as attractive as a masked Seeker.
She, on the other hand, he was forced to acknowledge, was beautiful (he had nothing to compare her with as he'd forgotten how striking women were in general). She had long, chestnut (he wasn't sure if the colour was right, but then, he hadn't seen a lot of colour lately) hair, tied back in a braid the was down almost to her toned waist. She was small, and compared to his Atmoran size, almost looked fey. She was no more than eight stones to his seventeen. She was also so much smaller. (At six foot ten, he dwarfed her diminutive size)
His cock twitched involuntarily again as her bouncing breasts caught his eye. The veins in his forehead were protruding now, with how hard he was trying to not clench his teeth, a headache was pounding in his brain. He cursed the spike of lust that entered his blood stream, and he tried so hard to fight it.
He might have been successful if Mora hadn't brought her within an inch of his bowed body. She was screaming and begging. Her emerald eyes wide with sheer terror and shock. The smell of her salty tears mixed with the smell of her sex and his musk.
Miraak turned his head away, trying to avert his gaze as Hermaeus moved the woman closer, pressing her against his own body. He'd been denied human touch for so long that his dick started weeping (this was even more humiliating...) the moment that her wet and warm sex made contact. He was so surprised by it, having forgotten how that felt, that he gasped/moaned low in his throat.
The top of her head, in the position that Mora had them in, reached just below his chin. He actually whimpered around the tentacle when the Prince pulled on his penis painfully to try and penetrate her warmth. Mora's warble almost sounded frustrated, until the Dragonborn felt himself being tilted 'til he was almost on his back, his body bowed like a bridge.
The cold appendage around his cock tightened painfully and he grunted pain as his penis was pulled roughly from his body to point straight up. Miraak's heart pounded hard in his chest when Hermaeus arranged the petite female so that the black head of his dick was at her entrance.
Miraak's breathing was ragged as her unwilling juices dripped onto him, searing his very flesh in unfamiliar heat. He shook his head and his eyes made contact with hers through the slits of his mask. She could not see him, and he would never forget her tear-stained face when Mora slammed her none to gently and without warning, onto him until he was buried to the hilt in her tight warmth.
The wet heat, the muscles milking him, the length of time since he'd last lain with a woman and the very fact that he'd taken her maidenhead doomed him.
His entire body shuddered violently as his ejaculation exploded from his humiliated body instantly. He came to the sounds of her screaming in pain as her hymen was violently ripped apart by his dick.