Skyrim Stories: Mijoll and the Orcish War-maiden.
***Good afternoon folks! I’ve been cooking up an erotic story about Mijoll the Lionesses struggles against a dominant Orcish War-Maiden! The story has some witty humor, and a small buildup, but give it time. And I’m sure it’ll arouse at least one of you*** !
“And THAT, is why the imperial monetary system would do better if it was paperized. Printed money would just work better Mjoll, **everyone** knows that!”
The Dragonborn continued his discourse with the imperial monetary fund as Mijoll the Lioness carried on further along the mountain road.
She wasn’t being rude when she ignored the Dragonborn, but who would *ever* want to learn about the imperial monetary system when there were monsters to slay, and bandits to fight. The Dragonborn was out of his intellectual depth.
“Dragonborn, we should be at the Stronghold by now. Remind me again, why did we need to come here?”
The Dragonborn shrugged.
“Ehh, I don’t actually know. The chieftain and I met once at this inn. And I… Well, I may have accidentally killed his wife… Which, you know, can lead to some problems later on…”
Mijoll sighed and looked to the Horizon, two female silhouettes watched them closely as they moved to the stronghold.
“And I may have told him that In return I’d fight for him against any foe that threatened his village. Just Because I felt kinda bad an-“
“Dragonborn! Look out!”
Mijoll interrupted the monologue as heavyweight arrows started flying at them at high speeds. The Dragonborn, being a duel wielder couldn’t dodge the storm of fire and took an arrow in the knee. He collapsed immediately, and his muscle mass decreased by 20%
“No!” He shouted out. “I can’t retire now! I still want to be an adventurer!”
Mijoll hid behind a tree line. Dragging the unmotivated corpus of the Dragonborn with her.
“Ah! Dragonborn!” She gasped out. Ducking her head with every shot. “Stop lying there and do something!”
The Dragonborn stayed face-down to the ground. Weakly muttering about the good old days, and how he would hate Guard duty.
“Stop right there intruder!” A Female Orcish warrior placed her short sword at Mijoll’s breastplate.
“You and your Male concubine have been captured by the Chiefdom of Ova! The Matriarch!”
The female Orcish warrior was joined by two other Orcs. Both of whom chained Mijoll and the Dragonborn together, and led them into the stronghold.
“Your Male Concubine is Weak Nordling.” The Female Warrior poked at Mijoll’s breastplate. She licked her lips at the captured lioness. And patted her ass.
“You need better taste.”
Mijoll sighed, and followed her captors to the Orcish stronghold.
The longhouse was filled with celebration.
Female Orcs from across the tribe gathered together and celebrated the capture of two roadside travelers. The Orcs came together and started chanting one name: Ova.
Mijoll took a deep breath and awaited the entrance of this feared War-Maiden.
A shadowy armored figure marched through the cheering crowd. The Maiden took her helmet off, revealing a rough, but beautiful tattooed face, with gorgeous glowing eyes.
her shield-maidens stripped her of her armor as she walked forward. Revealing her bare chest, her brown tribal tattoo snaked its way down her left breast, and a snake-like tribal pattern drew down her back. Her body, glistened with sweat from the warmth of the long house. Her body was muscled, and well toned.
Her armored legging slid off of her body. Leaving powerful strong legs. The tattoo ended at her left foot. She was wearing a thinly kept thong.
In short, she was beautiful. In a savage, primal kind of way.
“My name is Ova, Warmaiden, and *second* wife to the former chief of this old stronghold.”
Mijoll gasped. Once again, this was the Dragonborns fault.
“What do you want? Nord?”
Ova’s voice carried power. It was low and dominating. But flowed smoothly. It was a perfect fit for such a woman.
“I *said* , what business do you have here?!” She boomed out.
She laid her hands over Mijoll’s armor and tore it off with one fell swoop. Mjoll gasped and tried to cover herself. The Orcs peeled her arms away and exposed her open chest for the entire village to see.
Ova gave a hearty laugh and asked the question again. This time, Mijoll answered.
“We were here to provide assurance! The chieftain asked for the Dragonborn for help! We came here to *help* you!”
Ova pondered her explanation, then cast it aside.
“You fool! He wanted the Dragonborn to protect him from ***Me*** !”
The crowd jeered thier past chieftan. Behind all the chanting, Mijoll could hear a male voice call out. It was the imprisoned chieftain.
“Don’t worry Dragonborn! As soon as the punishments get asexual, I’ll be coming to rescue you both! Don’t lose heart!”
Mijoll looked at him with wide eyes. And then back to Ova. She looked powerful, and attractive. Attractively *dominant* . Ova knelt onto the soil in front of Mijoll and whispered into her ear.
“So, what do you say now? How do you plan to get out of here?” Her bare chest pressed against Mijoll’s breasts. She heaved and tried to push back.
“I…I’ll fight you!”
The entire tribe gasped in shock. A covet of silence fell upon the tribe. Mijoll was the only female to challenge Ova to a duel.
“No! Don’t do it Dragonborn woman!” The failed male Chief warned her.
“Just surrender! Like me! It isn’t that bad!”
The Dragonborn was asleep. Probably
dreaming of guard duty in Whiterun. It was all up to Mijoll, she was the catalyst in this situation.
“I…I challenge you! A duel! For the freedom of your old chieftan, the Dragonborn, and me. If I lose. We become your prisoners…”
The tribe fell to silence. Many whispered in hushed tones of the confidence of this woman. Others whispered of her stupidity.
Ova was initially shocked from this proposal. But laughed it off soon after.
“The Nord wants to challenge me? Of course she does!”
The rest of the tribe followed her lead. Jeering at the half naked Lioness. Mijoll lowered her head and waited for Ova’s decision.
“Hmmm, Ah, to hell with it. I accept! We duel in the longhouse! Concubines! Prepare our arena!”
The tribe cheered and broke into groups, each one of them preparing for the duel, and for the celebration afterwards when Ova would win. Food was prepared. The arena was set in mud. And Mijoll was given fighting attire. A fur bikini with a thong.
“For the fighting animals.” A female orc taunted.
Come time of the fight. The Dragonborn was lucid once again. He tried to cheer Mijoll on. Along with the exiled Orcish chieftain.
“Come on Mijoll! She’s just… A foot taller than you! You’ve handled worse… I hope.”
“Yes Mijoll, do not worry.” The Chieftan chimed in. “She will not be too rough. Just surrender right after you begin. And she will go easy on you…”
Mijoll was a nervous wreck come time of the duel. Everyone knew she would lose. It was only a matter of time.
They met at the arena. It was a small mud pit. Created in the middle of the long-house. Ova knelt in one end of the arena. Mijoll knelt in the other side. Ova was draped in an Orcish war banner. Covering her body, and projecting a sense of control over her situation. Mijoll, however. Had no banner to speak of.
“Remember the plan Female Dragonborn! Surrender immediately!” The exiled Chieftain yelled out.
Mijoll ignored him. And awaited the beginning of the duel.
“You have come far. Lioness. Let us pray for this to be a good fight. And for honor to both our clans.” Ova began. She stood up. Casting aside the banner, revealing her fighting attire. It was two patches of embroidered green silk woven into a bikini top. And a black string thong underneath.
Her body glistened with sweat. As she appealed to the crowd. The Orcish audience cheered their War-maiden on. Anxious for the entertainment to begin.
Mijoll stood up too. She was dressed similarly. Except it was more akin to rags.
“Let us begin!” Ova declared. Much to the audiences amusement.
The two women approached each other slowly. Sizing each other up. Ova was overpowering, and confident. While Mijoll felt small, and weak.
Ova started the fight with an opened palm strike to Mijoll’s face. She caught the strike to the nose. And doubled back.
“Ungh!” Mijoll groaned out.
She tried to remain on guard. But Ova had already pressed her advantage. She grasped Mijoll tightly and wrapped her into a bearhug.
“Ack!” Mijoll coughed out. Her breasts squeezed against Ova’s.
Mijoll cried out in pain as the two bodies clashed in the warm twilight of the Longhouse.
The crowd cheered Ova on as she lifted Mijoll up, and slammed her into the mud. Draping her curvy supple body over the beaten Lioness.
Mijoll slammed back-first into the mud. She cried out as Ova slammed her body straight into Mijoll in succession. The two bodies clashed against each other once again. Sweat dripped down Ova’s breast line, and onto Mijoll’s stomach.
The crowd cheered on as Mijoll tried to squirm her way out of the lock. She pawed at Ova’s back, tearing off her bra in the process. The crowd gasped as Mijoll had actually done something worthwhile. Ova was surprised. Her supple breasts were revealed to the crowd. Her tattoo highlighted her erect Nipples.
“Well well well!” She gloated. “I suppose you have a little sneak in you!” She threw a haymaker at Mijoll’s chest. The blow itself creating a huge *Slap* ! Noise That permeated the Longhouse. Mijoll squirmed and turned to her side in reflex. Ova let her go. She stood up. And Laid a foot on Mijoll’s face.
“Is this what Nord women are capable of?” She taunted, pressing Mijoll’s face further into the mud. Mijoll offered no resistance.
“Okay! You should give up now!” Yelled the Dragonborn. Mijoll did not listen.
“Time for a little payback!” Ova announced. She knelt down and undid Mijoll’s Bra. Turning her around and putting her chest on display to the entire crowd. Mijoll looked away in shame.
“Now! This has been a pathetic display! Your title should be change to Mijoll the *Weak* !” Ova yelled out at Mijoll.
“You need to yield! Tell me you give up! I am the better warrior!”
Mijoll was silent. The chanting crowd droned out into background noise. As did the Dragonborn and former Chieftan telling her to surrender. All she heard was one word. *Surrender* .
“What?” She said, a little force in her voice.
Ova knelt closer to Mijoll. And whispered into her ear.
“Admit that I bested you. That I am better… *Surrender* .”
Ova spat on Mijoll’s chest to accent the humiliating defeat. Mijoll frowned. And turned her head to look at Ova.
“No. I will not.” She whispered back.
She broke the pin by hurling mud at Ova’s face. Ova flew back into the mud. Clawing at her eyes.
“Ah! You… Bastard! There’s mud in my eyes!”
Mijoll jumped up and dove into Ova. Shattering her with a volley of strikes and jabs. Humbling her opponent.
“Argh! You Nords infuriate me!” Ova grasped Mijoll by the chest. Clutching her breasts tightly and lifting her up, Mijoll could only Yelp in response as Ova held her up by the throat.
“This ends now!” Ova declared. She threw Mijoll like a rag doll to the mud below.
Mijoll landed with a *Crash* ! Chest first she was thrown into the mud. Her ass on display for the entire audience.
Ova laid her foot on Mijoll’s back. Pressing her deeper into the mud. The crowd cheered on with the further humiliation.
The crowd jeered as Ova pressed Mjoll harder into the mud. Her touch was so fierce. Yet so humiliating at the same time.
“N…No!” Mijoll screamed out and forced all the energy in her body to her arms. She pushed against the Orc War Maiden and lifted the opponents leg up.
“Gah!” Ova screamed out and stumbled back to regain her balance. Mijoll jumped back up again. And dove into the dominant Orc.
They both beat down on each other for what seemed like forever. Ova threw Mijoll aside. Mijoll broke Ova down with clever strikes to her midsection. The two would clasp against each other in a desperate attempt to dominate the other. Only to stand back up again and repeat the process. They were coated with mud, bruises, and sweat. Neither one seemed to be giving up.
Until Mijoll faltered and went down with a strike to the stomach. She fell into a sitting position. But with the last of her strength she swept the feet of her Orcish opponent. Ova fell like a stone into the mud with Mijoll. They both sat together. Exhausted.
“Time to… End this.” Ova wheezed out. She scooted forward and pulled Mijoll to her lap. The two women grunted and groaned out as Ova wrapped Mijoll in another bearhug. Their chests clasped against each other once again.
“Face it Lioness…” Ova squeezed harder. Causing Mijoll to cry out in pain.
“My chest is bigger…” She squeezed harder. Mijoll had to rest her head on the War-Maidens shoulder to avoid passing out.
“Our Nether regions have clashed now. And mine is superior.” She decided, grinding her pelvis against Mijoll as she continued the bearhug.
“Anh! Ah…No…” Mijoll gasped out.
The endurance of this Nordic woman was astounding. Very rarely could one go toe to toe with the War-Maiden and survive this long. Mijoll was inspirational. But she was also losing.
Ova grabbed Mijoll’s face with her hand. And pushed it backwards. Mijoll fell back. Ova’s strong arms cradling her, she had shown no sign of resistance. A signal of Victory for the Orc.
The Dragonborn gasped out loud. The Chieftan lowered his head and sighed. “Should have surrendered.” He muttered.
Ova let Mijoll fall to the ground. She collapsed into the mud gently. She may not have been kind. But Ova still respected her opponent in a primal way.
Mijoll was covered in mud. Likley unconscious. And beaten to exhaustion. True. Her opponent fared no better. But her opponent had won.
Or… So they all thought.
Ova got up. And silently threw her hands up in victory. The crowd watched in silence. In awe of the show they had just watched. But as Ova turned her back. Something miraculous happened.
Mijoll got up.
“I… Never… Submit!” Mijoll cried out as she jumped onto the back of her opponent. She threw her arms around the Orc. Forming an effective chokehold.
The crowd cried out in surprise. Mijoll was Faking!
Mijoll squeezed as hard as she could. Ova growled out and roared in frustration. Throwing herself to the ground in a vain attempt to throw Mijoll off.
Mijoll slammed into the ground time and time again. She crashed herself into the mud with her opponent. But she never let go.
They both squirmed around in the mud arena. The orc gasped out and clawed at Mijoll’s arms.
“Do… You… Yield…” Mijoll whispered. Her strength fading by the second.
“…N…No!” The Orc resisted. But it was no use. Even rolling on top of Mijoll couldn’t get her off. Her breasts clung to her opponents back. Everyone knew who was about to win now.
“Aahh! Okay! Okay! I submit! You win!” Ova submitted.
She Submitted. Mijoll had won…
Mijoll let go of her womanly opponent and rolled aside. Breathless. Weak, but victorious. A weak smile crossed her face as she knew this was genuine. She laid her arm across the chest of her Orcish opponent.
“Good… Match…” Mijoll exhaled.
The Orc turned to her and laid a hand on Mijoll’s chest too.
“I… Lost… You… Fought… Valiantly.” The Orc gasped out. And crawled up. Pulling up the weakened Mijoll and embracing her. In a genuine hug this time.
“Mijoll The Lioness… You have won… You have proven yourself to be the better fighter. And so, you have taken my pride.
The crowd gasped out loud once more. In the back of the audience. The Chieftan screamed out: “Did the Dragon-Lady surrender yet?!”
Ova kissed Mijoll on the cheek.
“Though you have won your freedom… And my respect. Know that you will always be welcome in our ranks. And… We must fight again… I would like to wrestle you more… Intimately this time.” She winked at Mijoll. Mijoll blushed and nodded. Turning to her audience. And raising her arms in victory…
The three travelers wandered down the road. An exiled Orc Chieftan. A Dragon Born. And a Champion.
“I still believe you should have surrendered.” The Chieftan admitted, he was feasting on a collection of apples they orcs gave them as a parting gift. “It would have been easier.”
Mijoll took a bite out of her own apple and laughed. “Chieftan. If my life was lead by easy choices. I wouldn’t be the strongest woman amongst your tribe, now would I?” She said between bites.
“Ah, *former* tribe. I’m exiled now. And also… Homeless.” The Chieftan admitted.
“Don’t worry. You can crash at Breeze-home. I send all my ***lame*** followers there.” The Dragonborn piped in.
It was a peaceful walk home. And a well deserved one…
Source: reddit.com/r/sexystories/comments/n32w3p/skyrim_stories_mijoll_and_the_orcish_warmaiden_oc