Syrim: Sapphire's Secrets

This is my second Skyrim-themed story. In response to feedback, it's a lot more in depth than my first.

Feel free to leave me suggestions for more Skyrim stories in the comments...

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In the Ratways deep beneath the town of Riften, the senior members of the Thieves Guild gathered at the traditional time in the grand hall of their faction, to receive their latest tasks from the guild master. One by one, he dispatched the leather-clad thieves assembled there to the four corners of the province, with orders to steal, plant or sabotage whichever hapless officials or citizens had recently crossed the guild, or crossed others with the means to pay the guild to act on their behalf.

Last of the thieves to be addressed was a woman who stood alone at the back of the hall. She held herself tall, strong and aloof in the shadows; she stood still, her poised demeanour and the dark, well-worn leather armor she wore rendering her almost invisible in the gloom.

"Sapphire," the guild master called her name. "I have a special assignment for you. We've had word that the Jarl of Falkreath has recently received a not unsubstantial shipment of jewels, as a tribute from a foreign business consortium keen to open up a trade agreement with his town. I'd like you to pay them a visit and relieve them of the burden of those jewels."

Sapphire nodded, without speaking, and made to leave with her task.

"One more thing Sapphire," the guild master called, stopping her. "I want you to take Brin with you."

The woman turned and fixed the guild master with a hard stare. "Brin? The rookie? You're kidding. He's a greenhorn. He'll get us both killed."

"You know the rules Sapphire. Senior members take turns bringing the junior members out on missions. It's called training. Someone did the same for you when you were initiated. If you can remember that far back. I'm sure the two of you will have fun once you're out there."

Without waiting for a response from her, he turned and called the name Brin to a group of recruits who had huddled together away from the main proceedings.

A young man - tall and lean, cockily confident but barely more than a teenager - peeled himself away from the group and strolled over to Sapphire and the guild master. She eyed the boy, contempt glinting nakedly in her eye.

"Pleased to see me?" Brin asked cockily, ignoring the withering look she gave him. "I'm looking forward to working with you, boss."

She shook her head. "Just don't get me killed rookie," she said, turning and making for the exit; and he followed her despite not being invited.

"Play nice!" the guild master called after them both as he watched them disappear into the shadows, heading for the entrance to the surface of the town, she striding away purposefully as if unaccompanied, he half-jogging to keep up.

* * * * *

Outside the main gates of Riften they paid a wagon to carry them discreetly as far as the mountains to the west, and there they disembarked, to continue on foot. As they watched the cart disappear away down the trail, she explained that they would take a short cut she knew across an abandoned pass through the hills, from where they could sneak into Falkreath the back way, without attracting unwanted attention.

It was a full day's trek along the deserted path through the hills, and they trod it in the same manner as they had left the guild; she striding ahead, deep in her own thoughts, he trailing behind, trying with admirable perseverance to engage her in conversation.

It was full summer, and they made sweaty progress up the hills in their leathers, hers worn and well-shaped to her strong but slender figure from years of use, his new and still shiny.

"Some of the older guys back at the guild told me to ask you what your real name was," he said, as they navigated the steep paths. "They told me you never tell anyone. How come?"

"They're right. And I bet they told you they'd give you a healthy pile of coin if you found out too. Well sorry to disappoint you, but I'm not going to tell you my real name, and I'm not going to tell you why I'm not going to tell you either."

"That's ok," he replied. "They said you wouldn't. To be honest I quite like the mystery anyway. I've always had a thing for a mysterious older woman as it happens."

She turned irritably to him. "Look, I know you think you're being flirtatious and boyishly charming, and maybe that was enough to win over the buck-toothed farm girls in whatever backwater skeever swamp it was you stumbled out of, but I'm telling you now it's not going to work on me. So why don't you just shut that mouth, save your breath, and keep your mind on the job. That way we might get this job done without the both of us getting killed or thrown in jail."

Then she turned and strode purposefully ahead, leaving him behind her again. He shrugged and smiled, undeterred, jogged a few paces to catch up to her. "That's ok. We don't have to talk. I'm quite enjoying the view from back here anyway. You've got a pretty tidy backside for an older broad. Almost as good as the err... buck-toothed farm girls back home."

She cursed him under her breath, and he grinned to himself watching her slender, leather-clad legs striding grumpily away from him and up the slopes.

* * * * *

They reached the western side of the pass late in the day, and stood looking down over the sweeping pine forests below them, the town of Falkreath just visible, nestling darkly among the trees. They found a spot to make camp, a sheltered piece of flat ground above the bank of a river that rolled gently down off the higher ground.

She sent Brin a little further down the path to collect wood for a fire, then rested for a few moments on the riverbank, alone and gazing at the gentle currents of the stream passing by. After the heat of the day and the long trail clad in her sweaty leather armor, it looked irresistibly inviting. She looked down the hill after the recruit. He would be gone collecting firewood for a good while yet, she estimated - she would have time for a quick dip in private, to wash and refresh herself, before he returned and they settled into camp for the evening.

The decision made, she stood and unbuckled the fastenings at her neck and shoulder, letting the well-worn hide coverings flap open and the fresh mountain air caress the suddenly-freed skin of her shoulders and chest, clammy to the touch from the day's sweat. She sighed with the relief of it, stretched back her neck, and let the rest of her chest armor slip off her torso. She sat down and leaned back, closed her eyes and daydreamed, enjoying the feeling of the soft moss on the ground massaging her where she sat, and the soft evening air playing lightly against her bare breasts and stomach.

When she opened her eyes again something was moving in the corner of her sight. It was the recruit, returning to camp, his arms full of firewood. She scooped her breasts hurriedly into her hands and turned her body away from him as he neared, trying to cover herself from his eyes as best she could.

He blinked, bemused at the sight that greeted him as he came round the corner with arms full of wood - his usually-grumpy mentor, sitting naked to the waist at the river's edge, like some bashful siren washed up on the shore.

"I thought you'd take longer than that," she explained, irritation and embarrassment both palpable in her voice as she looked at the sticks and brush he clutched to his chest. "I... wanted to wash before we eat."

"Good idea," he said cheerfully, seemingly not in the least embarrassed by her accidental display. "It was sweaty work today. I'll leave you to it." He gestured up the slope. "See you back at camp in a while."

She nodded brusquely and turned away, then turned back. "And if I catch you looking, I'll cut your throat. Don't think I'm joking."

"Don't flatter yourself boss," he called teasingly, as he carried on up the path. Then he paused for a moment, and, winking cheekily, added, "You've no need to be hide yourself though - you're pretty good-looking without your leathers on. For an older broad, of course."

She glared silently at him as he trudged away up the path, until he had safely disappeared around the corner. Then she allowed herself a sly smile at the compliment, before slipping the lower half of her body out of the remainder of her armor, and slipping naked into the spring, gasping a little at the cold water as it caressed every inch of her naked skin.

She waded out to waist depth, and with a deep lungful of air ducked under the water, submerging herself completely. She re-surfaced and breathed out through the cascade of cool spring water dribbling from her hair and down her thirsty lips, then ducked partially under again and gulped down a couple of mouthfuls. The water tasted clean and refreshing at the back of her throat, and she felt the coldness course pleasurably through her body, reinvigorating her tired muscles. She scooped back her drenched hair with both hands, arching her body in a long, languid stretch that sent her small but plump breasts dancing free in the mild evening air, the cold water turning her nipples hard as the rock around her.

She waded aimlessly for a little while, splashing her skin gently with the pearlescent water and enjoying the solitude and freedom of the moment; until after some time she realised there was a sensation growing in her - a physical, tingling thrill she hadn't felt in a long time. Perhaps it was the cold, or the sensation of being naked in the open air, or perhaps even the compliments and flirting she'd been on the receiving end of all day - she was feeling aroused. She tried to ignore it, but eventually had to give in. She flashed a glance around her, over both naked shoulders, to assure herself she was alone, and then she squatted down in the water, to give herself a little privacy. With one hand under the water's surface, she cupped her breasts, kneading the soft flesh and running two wet fingers firmly over her hard nipples, one after the other, pinching and toying them until they tingled.

She breathed deeply, enjoying the sensation for a little while; and then she quietly slipped the other hand under the water too, all the way down and between her legs, where she began to tenderly tease her long-neglected pussy. She gently worked at the fleshy folds with her fingertips, and at the same time she began to toy her clit to excitement with her thumb, savouring herself in the cool water as she warmed up her fleshy snatch with quick and frantic circles of her fingers.

As she began to get excited, feeling the sticky wetness rising on her pussy lips, she shot another glance back to the river bank and up the hill, checking again that she was alone. Involuntarily, she found herself wondering whether the recruit was indeed back at camp preparing the fire, or whether he was cheeky enough to be stealing a glance at her, peering at her right now in her nakedness from over the top of a crag, or crouched down among the riverbank reeds to watch her. She flushed at the idea, shocked to find herself becoming powerfully turned on by the thought of being watched by him as she touched herself. Her breathing quickened, as did the movement of her fingers against the now slick and willing lips of her pussy, and as her desire carried her away, she straightened those fingers and slipped them firmly and purposefully inside her open and frothing hole, all the way to the knuckle, biting her lip and shuddering deeply with the pleasure of it.

Then immediately she slid them out again, her shoulders arching above the water as she withdrew; then plunged them straight back in, teasing herself, clutching at her thigh and her breast one after the other as she penetrated herself under the water. Delving her fingers in and out and in again, she fucked herself. She sawed at herself quicker and quicker, rubbing her clit into a throbbing frenzy with the underside of her thumb at the same time; she added a third finger and then a fourth, until she was all but pushing her whole hand inside herself. The passion began to rise to a dizzy crescendo, and she found her thoughts invaded again by images of him. In her mind she saw him watching her from some hidden spot on the slopes above; squatting down on his powerful haunches to conceal himself, his hard cock in his hand and pleasuring himself furiously as he watched her doing the same from his hiding place, working himself to an animal climax as he watched her violating herself in the water with rough and plundering fingers.

And with that image held in her mind, she fingered herself relentlessly, until she could bear it no longer, and the tides of orgasm swept over and submerged her, her hips thrashing under the water as her cunt convulsed and twitched around her fist and she bit her lip and screwed her eyes shut; and as she came, she imagined him cumming too, emptying himself in hot bursts on the ground as he watched her. She came so violently that she had to clamp her hand to her mouth, lest her cry echo across the whole hillside, and the pulses of her orgasm swept through her like tiny earthquakes, wave after throbbing wave.

Finally they subsided, and one wet and trembling hand slipped from her mouth, while the other, wet and trembling also, slipped from between her legs; and, panting, she opened her eyes again. As her breathing returned to normal, she scanned the hills around her; as far as she could see, he was not there. She felt relief, but the faintest twinge of disappointment also.

When she felt able to stand again, she dried and dressed herself quickly and quietly, and made her way calmly back up to camp, taking care to ensure her hard outer demeanour was firmly back in place before she saw the light of the camp fire. He was sitting by the fire when she approached, feeding the flames with handfuls of dried brush. He turned and watched her arrive.

"You ok?" he asked casually as she sat down opposite him. The combination of her powerful orgasm and the cold spring water had left her skin still tingling, and she felt herself redden - she hoped imperceptibly - at his question.

"Of course I'm ok," she said, putting on her best innocent look. "Why wouldn't I be?"

He shrugged. "No reason. You just look a little - flushed."

"From the cold water probably," she mumbled, feeling herself turn a little redder still.

They ate in silence, she shamed at having had such impure thoughts about her trainee, unable to look him in the eye across the camp fire; he assuming simply that she was her usual aloof self. And as night settled fully on the province, and the fire died down, she made to turn in, quitting the fireside and settling down on her bed roll. Keeping her leathers firmly on this time. After a few minutes he did the same.

They lay there, six feet from each other in the dark. They were both quiet; the last of the embers chattered softly to them as they waited for sleep to draw near. Then he grinned into the darkness and spoke. "You know, it gets very cold at night up in these hills. Maybe we should huddle together. Just for warmth of course. No funny business."

She tutted softly. "You don't give up, do you." She turned over and closed her eyes. "Get some rest. We have a job to do in the morning."

"Okay, you win," he conceded, turning on his bedroll. "I thought it was worth one last try though." He let the silence settle. Then he added, teasingly, "Particularly since you seemed so frisky down by the river earlier."

He smiled again to himself and then shut his eyes. Beside him, she flushed deeply, thanking the gods it was too dark for him to see her blushing.

* * * * *

She awoke into the sound of chaos. Opening her eyes, she saw Brin being dragged from his bedroll by a group of armed figures. He was fighting back bravely but losing.

They were bounty hunters. They'd been ambushed. She sat up and reached for her blade in one movement. As she grabbed for it, she felt herself halted by a heavy hand on her arm.

The last thing she was aware of was another figure looming over her as she rose. Before she could get to her feet, she'd been struck hard about the back of the head and went down on all fours, the blow sending her mind spinning. As her consciousness left her, she heard the voices of their attackers standing over her:

"She's a pretty one. Our lucky day boys; we'll have some fun with her."

"No. Take the wench back to town with the male and turn her over to the guards. She's the one with the price on her head, he's worth nothing. And no one puts a finger on her - jarl won't pay out for damaged goods."

* * * * *

She came to in a dark cell, the stink of damp and rot in her nostrils, a distant dripping of water on stone the only sound.

As she tried to move she realised with alarm that her hands were bound. She held them to her face and inspected the bonds. A tough strip of leather gripped her wrists roughly together, forcing her arms into a crude cross shape; she guessed she had been unconscious and tied up like this for some hours - the leather ties had bitten into the skin of her wrists and made them red-raw. She moved her wrists around a little, wincing as the hide cut into them, testing to see if there were any weakness or looseness she could take advantage of. But they had been tied with skill, and she knew she would not be freeing them herself.

She tried to calm her thoughts and assess her situation. She assumed she had been transported into town and handed over to the jarl, so she was now presumably in one of the cells in the jail.

Her armor and weapons were gone and she was alone. There was no sign of Brin. She shivered as the damp cold of the cell penetrated the thin slip draped over her body - the only scant dignity her captors had left her with. She waited, deciding for now to try and conserve her energy, and for the next hour or so she drifted in and out of a fitful sleep on the floor of the damp cell.

At some point she awoke to the sound of a heavy lock turning on the other side of the cell door, and then a great groan of iron as it swung open, accompanied by a sudden intrusion of torchlight. She sat up hurriedly and slid herself to the rear wall of the cell, pressing herself against what felt like a rickety old table as a figure appeared in the doorway.

"Leave us," the figure said with an air of authority, turning to address someone beyond the door. And with that, the sound of a guard's armor clanking cumbersomely away down the corridor. She listened to the sound until it disappeared completely. The figure in the doorway seemed to do the same; then turned to the near-naked and dirty thief in the corner of the cell.

"Ah, the famous thief woman. Sapphire, isn't it? You've run up quite the bounty in these parts." The figure's voice was noble, but drawling and unfriendly. She peered into the shadows to make out the face. It was the jarl himself.

"Jarl Siddgeir," she said with contempt. "Since when does the jarl lower himself to prisoner visits?"

He stepped deeper into the cell. "Generally I wouldn't lower myself, as you put it... but when I heard my stewards gossiping that the most wanted thief in this Hold had been caught this morning by bounty hunters, and that said thief was in fact a rather beautiful - if hard-looking - woman, and was at this very moment languishing in one of my cells in only her underthings - I admit my curiosity got the better of me."

He set the torch in a sconce on the wall and moved closer, standing over her. He looked her up and down, head to toe, as if looking over a prize specimen of livestock he was considering purchasing. Under his gaze, she suddenly felt her state of undress more keenly than before. The thin fabric of her slip was damp from the mildewed air of the cell and it clung to every curve of her body, leaving little to the imagination of anyone who cared to look. And the jarl did look. He looked at her as if she were his property. She pulled her knees to her chest and hugged herself protectively.