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The Spy's Punishment

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“Ulva does not love me back.” Caye realized bitterly, whilst a high-class harlot was busy eating her pussy.

She took another sip of her wine, staring down at the Bosmer prostitute and her agile tongue sucking on her clit, her slender fingers pushing in and out of her insatiable little cunt. She sighed, adjusting her back on the soft pillows, giving in to the hired affection.

This hopeless affair has been going on for a few months now. She would meet Ulva in their home, force herself to keep her feelings hidden until she couldn’t hold them in anymore, and run out of the house, straight to Dibella’s Whim, the highest-class brothel in the Imperial City. First time she visited the establishment she feverishly booked the first available woman she could find – a Wood Elf apprentice going by the name of Velvet. Putting the unimaginative name aside, Velvet was a true delight. Petite and energetic, with black hair, bronze skin and deep cognac eyes. Her tongue and fingers could do wonders.

She hoped that after a night with the talented prostitute she could go back home and face Ulva without that intrusive, warm feeling washing over her. Oh, how wrong she was! That feeling, which resurfaced slowly over the years she worked for Ulva, was now completely taking over Caye, consuming her every waking thought. And in her line of work losing focus was dangerous.

The client released a soft coo, Velvet could feel she was close. She smirked, looking up to meet with the woman’s black eyes. Pleased to see the so familiar mist set over them, she spread her fingers wide and thrusted with more force. Bowing her head she closed her lips on the perky, pale clit and sucked painfully hard, just like the woman liked it.

Caye tensed, arching her back and tilting her head back. She bit into her palm, reaching down to grab Velvet by the hair and abruptly force her head harder against her clit. The harlot let out a muffled moan, her tongue flattened and grinded against it, Velvet could feel on her tongue that the tender little pearly swell and throbbed, inches away from climax. Caye moaned, coming hard, still firmly holding the whore by the hair. Her legs spread wide, whilst her walls tensed and trembled, before she completely lost control over her body and her mind slipped away.

“Ah… thank you.” Caye exhaled, collecting herself. She let go of the Bosmer’s black hair and brushed her own back, looking down at the delightful whore, who was still sliding her fingers in and out of the tight, hot pussy.

Velvet purred, licking her fingers with a mischievous look on her face. She had to admit, she liked this unusual patron. The Dunmer woman was a regular by now, popping into Dibella’s Whim every week or so, paying generously and never overstaying her welcome. She spoke eloquently and painfully formally, which was a bit funny considering she was in a brothel. Velvet could bet her money she was either a noble’s servant or a high-profile Empire official. Still, she was not unpleasant to work with. She was young, groomed and petite for a Dunmer, but not as short as a Bosmer. Her skin had a pleasant shade of blue, complimenting her red hair. The only thing that took some getting used to were her eyes – entirely black.

“Always a pleasure.” Velvet replied, laying her head on the client’s stomach. “Will you stay the night?” She inquired, though the question was not motivated by lust for coin. This particular client always booked her for the entire night but never stayed over. It would be nice to finally convince her to lay by her side.

“No.” Caye declined politely but firmly, sliding her feet on the floor. She was done and had to get home.

“When will I see you again?” Velvet asked with a pout, embracing the Dunmer form behind.

“When I have need of you.” Caye cut the conversation short, freeing herself from the harlot’s now less than pleasant embrace.

She reached to the chair where she had her clothes neatly folded and got dressed, growing ever frustrated. Velvet was talented and had grown to know her desires and body, but even the most intense orgasm helped dull her suffering only temporarily. It was late, past midnight. She had to get back home, face Ulva in the morning and repeat the poisonous routine all over again.

The Dunmer smoothened her coat and looked over her shoulder. The Bosmer laid shamelessly on the bed, finishing what was left of the wine. She smiled, observing her patron through half-shut eyes. She knew Caye would be back. Her smile was not of the lustful kind, it was triumph.

“You’ll be back.” The whore sang sweetly, licking her lips. “I can’t wait…!”

“Please secure a solid whipping rod.” Caye requested in her normal tone – calm and measured, devoid of all emotion. “I’m going to lash you the next time I come over.”


The Dunmer knew the teasing was part of the harlot’s erotic game and in the end the words she spoke were utterly worthless. Still, she appreciated the charade. She turned away from the appetizing form displayed on the bed and approached a lifelike statue of Dibella next to the door. The gilded likeliness of the goddess was formed so that Dibella was offering the viewer her cupped hands. It was a subtle reminder about tipping the harlots for their services. Caye reached for her satchel. A few golden coins fell with a pleasant chime into the goddesses hands. And with that, the elf was gone.

She left the lively establishment and entered the night. Adjusting her hood she melted with the shadows, effortlessly making her way from the Talos Plaza district to the Elven Gardens district without alerting a single guard. There was no need for subterfuge, but she liked to move undetected, even if it was just a stroll between her favorite brothel and home. She passed the courtyard of Ulva’s manor with her heart heavy. She sighed, remembering she had a report to present to her mistress in the morning. She feared she will not be able to control her words and actions and will finally give in, letting all that romantic, foolish nonsense pour out of her in front of Ulva, embarrassing them both and ruining their professional relationship.

Utterly miserable, Caye entered her room. Clenching her fists, she conjured all her willpower to get a grip of herself. Under Ulva she received the best training and education money could buy. She was the finest damned spy in Cyrodiil, in service to the woman who closed the Oblivion Gates! She had no right to allow this idiotic sentiment! But… Ulva made her feel alive. Before meeting her Caye felt… nothing, enjoying a temporary rush of adrenaline only when she was on brief thieving outings in the drab town she grew up in. But when she was around Ulva, her cold heart was beating faster and her sharp, focused mind was going numb with idiotic glee.

The Dunmer cried in frustration, slapping herself in the face to snap out of this madness.

“Was that really necessary?” A warm voice asked.

With a panicked choke, Caye turned around. Ulva. In her room. Sitting on her bed. Why was she here? Azura… she knew! Oh no, no, no, no! She had to think fast!

“My lady.” She greeted, straightening up and putting her hands behind her back. “How may I serve?” She inquired, miraculously managing to flush all emotion from her face and tone.

“Dear.” Ulva stood up, smoothening her dress. “Please don’t insult me. We both know where you’ve just been and that I caught you red-handed.”

Caye inhaled deeply, not daring to talk over the mistress. Ulva paced around the room, seemingly unbothered with her servant. Azura… she was divine. Graceful and elegant, her skin was so unusual for a Dumner… powder-blue. She must have had some Breton blood in her.

“You’re young, barely fifty. And I know young Dunmer have their… needs.” Ulva continued, her tone betraying deep disappointment. “I was young once. But you’re losing your edge. You spend all your pay on whores and more than once I caught you drifting off in your thoughts.”

She halted in front of her servant. They were mere inches from each other. Caye had to slightly tilt her head up; Ulva was fairly tall for a Dunmer. Ulva reached out to touch her face, Caye winced as if her mistress was about to slap her. The delicate hand on her face burned.

“What is happening with you, dearest?” Ulva asked, genuinely concerned. “What is bothering you?”

She mustn’t know! If Caye dares to speak the truth, everything will be over. Their relationship will be ruined and her life shattered. She cannot say the truth! For her and Ulva’s sake!

“I… I apologize. I fear I gave in to my carnal desires and have not been the professional you need me to.” She lied.

“Ah… I see.” Ulva sighed, her hand retreated.

“Mistress, I apologize for my disrespect. Please, don’t send me away. Demote me, I deserve it. But please don’t…!” Caye was about to break down and start rambling, but unexpectedly Ulva laughed.

“Send you away?” Ulva repeated, amused by such a ridiculous assumption. “Caye, you are my best agent. I would never allow you to leave my side! But…” A sinister spark danced in her bright red eyes. “I cannot afford you to have your mind clouded by dreams of whores and the carnal pleasures they offer. You need to be punished.”

“Of course. Whatever it is you demand of me, I am yours to command.” The spy assured without hesitation.

“It pleases me to see you know your place.” Ulva said with a warm smile. “Here”, she placed two small vials on the table. “Drink.”

Caye obediently downed contents of both vials, awaiting Ulva to give details of her punishment.


Ulva’s other agents sat in the common room, drinking and playing cards.

“How are you so good at this game?” Hakin, the Redguard diplomat, grunted. “This can’t be sheer luck! Show me your cards!”

“Are you accusing me of cheating?” Malak, the Orc muscle dared. “Either learn to lose or give me some proof.”

Eylly, Ulva’s prized Altmer torturer (as well as medic) and Morgan, the Breton arcane advisor, shared a look. It was time to fold ‘em and call it a night before they’d lose more to the Orc.

“Hakin, drop it.” The torturer advised. “And if I may offer a word of advice… Don’t try to win your gold back.”

“Fine!” The Redguard swallowed his pride and raised his palms to signal defeat. “You’re right. Greater fortunes than mine were lost to cards.” He sighed, helplessly watching Malak gather stacks of coins towards his side of the table

The door made no sound as Ulva and her favorite pet entered the common room. All agents stood up painfully straight, awaiting orders. Whatever business the mistress would have with them must have been urgent if she was paying them a visit herself this late.

“My friends, it pleases me to see you all in good spirits.” The lady of the house greeted jovially. “I see Delan is still in the field… No problem, one of you will have to fill him in when he’s back.”

Gently, she nudged Caye forward. The spy ‘s black eyes darted from one agent to the other. They were her colleagues and as long as they continued to loyally serve Ulva she had no problems with them. Yet, she knew they were also her rivals, waiting for any opportunity to gain the upper hand over hear and each other.

“It pains me to say this, but my dear little Caye has recently been more preoccupied with brothels and whores than her duties.” Ulva revealed with a pained frown.

Unexpectedly, she groped her most trusted agent form behind; her deft hands grabbing her shirt’s neckline, pulling down sharply. Caye let out a panicked yelp, as the material gave in and tore exposing her chest to all present company. Ulva wasn’t done yet, groping Caye’s small breasts whilst her other hand slipped down her spy’s pants.

“I recruited you all because you’re the best. And none of you can afford to be sloppy. That is why…” She breathed into Caye’s ear. “My little one needs to be punished.”

Ulva was touching her! In a way she always dreamed of! Azura, Caye was melting in her grasp. Her knees pressed firmly together, whilst mistress was stroking her pussy, getting her wet in a matter of seconds. Caye let out an incoherent cry, jerking her hips forward to get a better angle, forcing mistress’ fingers deeper inside her. Her alien eyes rolled in the back of her head, she could not control her breathing. The impeding punishment, however severe, was worth those few moments of pure bliss.

“If Caye likes whores so much…” Ulva went on, pausing to conjure another cry from her servant with a brutal slap on the breast. “Then she will be treated like one. She’s on strict house arrest for as long as I see fit. In the meantime any of you can have her however you’d like. I had her drink long-term contraceptive and stamina potions, so you don’t have to show restraint. My only condition is that you do not put her life in danger or do anything to permanently damage her. Rest is fair game.”

Caye squirmed and sobbed, feeling tears creeping into her eyes. Yes, yes, she was almost there, almost… She gasped, as her mistress retreated, depraving her of the touch she yearned for so much. Defeated and broken, she fell to her knees, unable to collect herself and regain her dignity. She wrapped her arms around herself, covering her chest and trembling.

“And remember what we talked about, dear.” She heard Ulva call somewhere from beyond the cloud of desire, shame and pain. “You are not to refuse or fight back. You are theirs for the taking.”

“Y-yes, mistress.” The spy wept, having no courage to raise her head and look at Ulva.

The mistress’ heels clacked on the stone floors, then the heavy wooden doors closed behind her, leaving Caye to her punishment. The agents looked at each other, taking in what just transpired. Ulva’s pet, the cool and professional Dunmer, rumored to have no feelings at all, had a weakness for whores? The perfect, infallible spy royally fucked up and they could literally fuck her until the mistress calls it off. Each of them had a bone to pick with the little slut, and Gods they were going to enjoy putting her down a notch.