The Elder Scrolls: Blood Rose

Skyrim: One of the nine provinces of Tamriel, the other eight being Cyrodiil, High Rock, Hammerfall,
Elswial , Valenson, Blackswamp, and Summerset Isle. Each province has its own native inhabitants and kingdoms, nominally under
the Empire's jurisdiction. However, Summerset Isle, Valenson, Blackswamp, and Elswial have formed the "Province of the Ancestors,"
fought a war against the Empire, and won, signing the "Platinum Pact," severely damaging the Empire's prestige.

The highest leader of Skyrim is the "High King," who governs nine territories. Currently, in eastern Skyrim,
cities unwilling to abandon the Talos faith have formed the "Stormcloak" rebels,
waging war against other cities in territories that support the Empire.

Race: Nords: Migrated from another continent, becoming the native inhabitants of Skyrim.
A unified the entire continent, establishing the Septan Empire. However,
two hundred years ago, the Empire fell, and a warlord later established the new Meid Empire, which continues to this day.

High Elves: The earliest rulers of the continent, later driven to Summerset Isle by the Nords. However, they have now established
the "Ancestors' Land" and won the war against the Empire.

Brighton: The native inhabitants of High Rock Province, skilled in magic and alchemy.

Orcs: A powerful and savage race, the strongest warriors on the continent. They possess high loyalty.

Redguards: A dark-skinned race, physically robust, and adaptable to harsh environments.

Dark Elves: A branch of the elves, possessing a "dark personality" and a "cursed fate."

Khajiit: Named after desert travelers, they have night vision. However, they are afraid of sweets, especially "
Skumar ."

Wood Elves: Elves scattered in the forests, fond of nature, and possess superb archery skills.

Argonians: Reptilian creatures with strong immunity, difficult to trust and understand.

Chapter 1: Alduin's Arrival

My name is Elena, and I am currently in shackles, being transported to Helgen by Imperial soldiers.

Why am I bound? It's a long story. Born in Skyrim, I was meticulously groomed from a young age to
become a renowned prostitute. Yes, you heard right, a prostitute.

When I was still an infant, the spinster Dumela
traded . She had over a dozen homeless girls like me under her wing, dreaming of revitalizing her
brothel through us.

In fact, she succeeded; her brothel was the most famous in Riften, no, in all of Skyrim. And
I was the most beautiful of her prostitutes.

When I was sixteen, there was an event in the various inns of the Nine Realms of Skyrim: an auction for my virginity.
My hymen was bid up to 50,000 gold coins, equivalent to Whiterun's annual revenue. However,
Dumela was a shrewd businesswoman; she knew there were plenty of people who could afford to pay even higher prices. And
I was only sixteen; I had plenty of time.

Finally, when I turned eighteen—oh, this year—a wealthy merchant from Blackswamp Province, G.
Moritz , spent two hundred thousand gold coins to buy my virginity, or rather, my life. I was forced to marry him
in Blackswamp Province, becoming his seventy-first wife. Moritz is an Argonian, a major drug lord. He monopolizes the Skomar trade in five
provinces . If he wanted, he could buy the High Crown of Skyrim and become
the High King of Skyrim. But he only wanted me, and Dumela dared not disobey.

But I was unwilling, and Dumela was unwilling too. Dumela's reason for being unwilling was simple:
a money tree had been uprooted, and no one would be happy about that. As for me… what a joke! First:
Moritz is an Argonian with scales, like a lizard! Second: Moritz's previous seventy wives
are all dead! He has a fetish: after having sex with a woman, he eats her, leaving only her head, which he then displays
as a specimen on his shelf. Knowing I was going to die, and die at the hands of this hideously ugly old lizard, was I
willing?

Of course not. On my very first night in Black Swamp Province, I began to resist. He stumbled
into , looking like a fattened bedbug in a latrine. And I was naked—
forced by his servants. At least ten menacing wretched wren stripped me naked, thoroughly inspecting me to make sure
I wasn't carrying any weapons.

Forgive my bluntness, but even if I were carrying weapons, was an enema really necessary?
A tube was inserted into my delicate anus, and they poured warm water and strong liquor into my rectum until my flat
stomach swelled like a woman in her tenth month of pregnancy, threatening to burst at any moment. Only then did they pull out the tube,
and with a "plop," my anus convulsed uncontrollably, gushing out a mixture of liquid and feces, filling the entire room with
a lewd stench.

Exhausted, I heard their snickering laughter, probably from their stares at my still-twitching, water-drenched
anus ! It was a blatant insult. And now, naked
before this ugly bug, I felt utterly ashamed.

"Come, beauty, come here!" the bug beckoned to me with a lewd grin; in his eyes, I was probably just a
plate of cheese to be swallowed with his saliva.

"Wh...what?" I stammered, taking a step back.

Moritz ripped off his clothes, revealing his scaly, ugly body: "Beauty,
give me some pleasure!"

I swear, it was the first time I'd ever seen an Argonian's penis. It didn't look like any other race's; how to put it
...like a bamboo shoot, thick and large at the base, while the glans was thin and small, hidden under the foreskin. The entire penis was
a deathly pale color, completely out of place with his brown scales.

"With your mouth, with your mouth!" he urged, staring at my lips.

Sigh! I have to say something here. While I'm still a virgin down there, my mouth isn't. From the age of eleven,
Dumela started making me perform oral sex on customers. Partly to generate revenue, and partly to hone my skills.
I have countless tips and tricks for sucking a man's penis, like how to make a man so incredibly aroused yet unable
to ejaculate ; how to get a previously impotent man hard in the fastest way possible; and how to make even the least hard
penises rock-hard with the comfort of my tongue… Damn, maybe I'm not suited to be a
prostitute, but rather a urologist.

I wasn't mentally prepared for the sight of the Argonian penis. I cautiously approached, slowly bending down
, but before I could even get a close look, Moritz pressed my head down and shoved his penis into my mouth.

I swear, it was the longest penis I'd ever seen; I felt it reach my throat, even
into my trachea. It was also the smelliest thing I'd ever eaten—a mixture of duck droppings and rotting fish.

I immediately vomited. The little bit I'd just eaten came rushing out of my throat, through my mouth and nose
. Surprisingly, the pervert became even more excited, one hand holding my head as he thrust in and out, the other
kneading my breasts. Under his caresses, my nipples uncontrollably hardened.

I was forced to give him oral sex, my tongue involuntarily licking his penis, stimulating his glans. He
must have been enjoying it, making hissing sounds. With my continued stimulation, finally,
a thick stream of semen shot from his glans, filling my mouth with a sticky, foul stench I never want to recall.

Moritz released me, slumping back in his chair, panting. I saw the moment was right!
Ignoring the semen still on my lips, I knelt before him: "Sir, I'll give you another blowjob!"

Moritz mumbled a single word. Regardless of his willingness, I opened my mouth and took his already
limp penis into my mouth. At the same time, my hands were busy too. One hand stroked his penis up and down,
while the other gently massaged his testicles with a special finger technique.

There are so many skills a prostitute needs to learn, but the one I studied most diligently and mastered best was oral sex.
Customers said I had a face that made them want to assault me, and when I closed my eyes and focused on oral sex, my flushed face was
irresistible. But the more beautiful something is, the more dangerous it is.

Especially for a man nearing fifty who relied on drugs and strong liquor to stay alert, I was
confident he couldn't withstand my advances.

Sure enough, his muscles began to twitch, his legs trembling uncontrollably. His breathing became more rapid.
Sensing his restless trembling, I released his penis. It was covered in my saliva, looking incredibly smooth.
I began to lick upwards along the veins on his penis with my tongue; this must have felt both itchy and
unbearable . Sure enough, he began to breathe deeply. When his penis started to soften, I took it back into my mouth, repeating
this motion over and over.

Almost no man can last a quarter of an hour in my mouth. What if this was a penis that had already ejaculated, and
I were repeating this action over and over, changing positions each time he was about to climax to calm him down? In less than
half an hour, Moritz let out a low whimper from his nose, and the twitching in his legs stopped. I wiped
the semen and saliva from my mouth, got up, and saw Moritz staring blankly, already dead. His
penis still erect, but now it was just a lump of excess flesh.

G. Moritz had given me the taste of an enema, and now I was giving him an undignified death
, more than enough.

That night, I slipped out of Moritz's mansion through the sewers. I guess everyone inside thought my
head had been made into a specimen and put on display. I headed north, escaping back to Skyrim.

My journey was exciting, thrilling, and I learned a lot, which I'll elaborate on later. For now, after
two months, I finally returned to Skyrim, this perpetually frozen province. As I struggled to cross a mountain range
, a hunter with poor eyesight mistook me for a deer and shot me with an arrow. The arrow hit my
knee, making me as frightened as a startled bird, and I ran like a madman into the Imperial army's camp. And I, being an undocumented person
with no proof of residency (just kidding, I'm wanted worldwide!), was mistaken for a
Stormcloak rebel spy and taken to Helgen bound and gagged.

"Why are we going to Helgen?" asked Lockel, sitting across from me. He was a petty thief, caught in the act of
stealing .

"I can feel Songgard calling us!" said Ralof. He was captured
because he was a soldier of the rebels—the Stormcloaks.

I forgot to mention, Skyrim is currently in rebellion. Four territories, centered around Windhelm, have risen up
against the Empire. The reason is our Nord faith (Skyrim is the Nords' homeland): Talos, which
the Empire considers a cult. If I were a well-off commoner, I might support the Stormcloaks'
actions . But I'm just a prostitute; faith is less important to me than a box of rouge. If it weren't for
these people, I wouldn't be captured now. So I instinctively resent Ralof.

"What? They're going to kill us? My God! This is too much!" Locke started yelling, his eyes
filled with fear.

Too much, what's too much? I rolled my eyes: it was my knee that was truly too much! I always thought that
after escaping Moritz, I could be a free adventurer, pursuing my life's goals, and because of
this arrow, it's all ruined! Who knows what the next life will bring!

"Why isn't he saying anything?" Locke pointed at the masked guy sitting next to me.

"Watch your words!" Larov became serious, "You're facing Ulfric, the lord of Windhelm
!"

What? He's the lord of Windhelm? I was shocked. So, he's the leader of the rebels?
Now he's been captured by Imperial soldiers, which means the war is over? I... I really know how to pick my timing!

The prison wagon swayed and rattled into Helgen. Passing soldiers and villagers stopped and stared at us.
Their eyes revealed schadenfreude. No wonder, in the eyes of these ordinary people, we—thieves, prostitutes, rebels—
truly deserved to die.

The prison wagon stopped in front of a fortress. Before the fortress stood a flagpole, below which was a stone
guillotine. Several soldiers were washing it with water, clearly having just executed someone. The driver of the prison wagon got off to hand over the duties,
and then several soldiers boarded the wagon and escorted us off. I was assigned to be last. The soldier pulled me up
and pushed me off the wagon. I stumbled and before I could even turn around and glare at him, a lewd hand covered
my left buttock. "Ugh!" I was about to protest when a lewd voice rang in my ear: " What a waste

to kill a beauty like you !"

As he spoke, his hands were busy, kneading my buttocks forcefully: "Why don't you let me have some fun!"

I gasped, then whispered, "Why should I!"

"You have no choice!" The words had barely left my lips when his hand slid down my waistband, gripping
my exposed buttocks. His touch was like the slither of a venomous snake, raising
goosebumps with every inch of my skin it passed over. My delicate, smooth buttocks were being shaped in his hands. A
thrill of being violated in front of everyone coursed through my entire body.

I began to breathe involuntarily, feeling the roughness of the area being touched. His hand slowly
caressed, moving downwards, past my anus, touching my slit… "No!" I
forced out the words through gritted teeth. But I was met with rejection again; his hand suddenly increased its pressure, sliding into my
already wet opening.

"Ah!" The rough fingers were stimulating my most tender spot, a pleasure I'd never felt before,
accompanied by a slight pain. The pain made me struggle, taking another step forward, finally escaping
their clutches.

"You! Who gave you permission to step forward!" The middle-aged female officer standing before me
was clearly disgusted by my sudden movement. But actually, from the moment she saw me, I knew she disliked me—
no ugly woman would like a woman who looked threatening!

"In that case, you'll be the first to die!" the officer said, waving her hand. Two soldiers grabbed me from
behind and led me towards the guillotine.

"Damn it! Why me! You old woman!" I began to curse, struggling violently.
If one can die without a single temper, that's truly the happiest thing. But I was definitely not reconciled.
Besides verbal abuse, I began to curse this world in my heart, this world that made me an orphan!

"It's a pity you're about to die," that lewd voice rang out again. "But it's alright, after you're
beheaded, I'll collect your corpse. Even without a head, your body will still be usable!"

A chill ran down my spine. I turned to my left, staring intently at the man. But the helmet blocked
my vision. I couldn't even see his eyes!

A powerful force pushed me, forcing me to my knees. The soldier stomped on my head, pressing me against
the guillotine.

Finally… my damned life ended at eighteen… The ground began to tremble. A howl
ripped through the sky! The crowd jumped in surprise and began to whisper amongst themselves. A dark shadow flashed past my eye, but
for me, who was about to die, it was all meaningless.

The executioner raised his gleaming axe high. I slowly closed my eyes, accepting my impending death.

A deafening roar followed, accompanied by a violent tremor and a scattering of earth and stones. I opened my eyes again, and
on the fortress before me stood a gigantic, winged lizard. Its dark green scales shimmered with a silent
light , noble and solemn.

This was… a dragon?

The lizard opened its mouth, and a deafening roar confirmed my suspicions. The crowd, some struck by stones, some sent flying by the roar
, and some fleeing in terror, were in complete chaos, utterly ignoring my near-certain death.

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