Current active quest: Enslaved Wenches

Current level: 2

Current gold: 226gp

I overslept and woke at 9:20am. My exhaustion must have been greater than I thought but I got dressed as quickly as I could and left the inn.

With Whiterun in the heart of Skyrim, there was little to fear here and the surrounding countryside was filled with farms and breweries. I took the road up into the hills knowing I could follow it to the village of Riverwood. From there, I would have to leave it and hike but the mine should be easy enough to find – but what has been easy in the past few days?

Riverwood is lovely, and I must spend more time here. For some reason it reminds me of the forests of home but that might just be the stress of the last few days making me homesick. Alas, I can only pass through with the mine so close, I encounter more wolves but the practise of the previous night means I’ve learned to dispatch them quickly.

As I expected, the mine was guarded by a bandit but I dealt with him swiftly. While I’ve no desire to kill (and it’s certainly not something I agree with) I have little respect for this man or his choices and so it doesn’t weight too heavily on my conscience.

The interior of the mine is dark but illuminated by torches. To cover my movements (and because I’d not thought of purchases torches before I arrived), I took as many as I could, systematically shrouding the tunnels in darkness. My tactic was successful for I was able to neutralise the bandits without too much difficultly. Their armour wasn’t much different to my own but I picked up a shield and took the rest to sell.

After less than an hour of fighting, I found her.

Current active quest: Enslaved Wenches

Current level: 1

Current gold: 0gp

Dear dearest diary,

I write this in The Bannered Mare, Whitrun’s inn. My journey to the city was a miserable one, plagued by wolf attacks and the most horrendous of storms. Desperate to find shelter, I attempted to explore a massive troll-infested complex known locally as Labyrinthian but I ran as soon as I saw the first troll (We have them in Cyrodiil and I know better than to engage one in combat). In the early hours of the morning and on the other side of the mountains, I found a small cottage with eggs outside that I’m ashamed to admit I wasted no time in stealing under the cover of darkness. The owner, a Dunmer called Drelas, became hostile as soon as he saw me without a chance for me to even offer my body for free if it meant a safe place to sleep. I fled back into the storm, my eyes wet from rain and fear.

I did see some wondrous things as I crossed into Whiterun. I saw for the first tiime the mammoths and their giant shepherds but they paid me no attention as long as I kept my distance. I began to respect the Nords for being able to survive in such a harsh and unforgiving landscape.

Before I made it to Whiterun, I encountered some bandits at a fort known as Graymoor. I had approached the fort foolishly thinking it to be a waystation for travellers or even under the control of Imperial soldiers but when I came under a barrage of arrows, I knew the truth. Fuelled by rage or merely desperation, I plunged into the pitch-black courtyard. The battle was nothing like a bard’s song, full of heroism and nobility, but chaos and blood. I ran screaming across the battlements, slashing wildly until my armour was drenched in their blood.

When it was over, I fell to the ground exhausted and waited for dawn. As the sun rose, I moved from body to body, trying to ignore what I’d done. I stripped them of their amour, taking the best pieces for myself and intending to sell the rest. It was here, dear diary, while searching the body of an orc-man that I first my first non-human penis. He was naked under his armour so it wasn’t hidden but it was impressive, thick and long. While I’d never thought of laying with a non-human before, I will admit I was tempted to do so now.

Before resuming my walk to Whiterun, which now I could see just over the horizon, I took the opportunity to tan the wolf pelts I’d collected into leather. In doing so - or perhaps the trials of the previous few days – I felt more confident than ever before.

I was, however, sick. One of the bites I’d received during the numerous wolf attacks overnight had infected me, most likely with rockjoint. It was sapping my strength, rendering the sword in my hands useless. I made haste to Whiterun but was forced to rest in an abandoned house on the outskirts. Whoever had lived here before had left a box of gold and jewels under a loose floorboard. My need for coin great, I took them and slept.

Awakening in the early evening, the rest of the journey to Whiterun was mercifully uneventful. I sold the pilfered armour and gems to a trader called Belethor but felt revulsion at his expression of interest at buying any sister I might have. Do men in Skyrim have any other interest than the use of women? I accepted his offered coin in silence but made sure I bought a potion to cure me.

I entered The Bannered Mare with just shy of 400 septims, which I made sure to spend on more provisions and water. Then I slept, vowing to leave at first least. Embershard mine was only a short distance away in the forest and the fulfilment of my quest was near.

Current active quest: Enslaved Wenches

Current level: 1

Current gold: 30gp

Dear dearest diary,

As my orgasm became a memory, I dressed horridly, no longer as ease with the glares of the other patrons. Ariss looked at me with expectation. Any confusion as to what was expected was dispelled when she offered a hand for payment. I knew I had only a coin or two – desperately needed for the journey but I had no desire to offend. After all, I’d already made my decision to return before I left Skyrim. She removed the contents of my coin purse with out pause and then returned to her duties behind the bar. Feeling foolish at believing our encounter was anything other than a transaction, I opened the tavern door and re-entered the night.

Why had the High Priestess not told me of this when I was training? Of course I knew the services of our temple could be carnal and of course I suspected there would be a reimbursement for it but such arrangements surely only took place at the temple in the form of instruction or consultation? To be able to purchase attention in a tavern in full view of people was…cheap? Tawdry?

Dear diary, I must confess I’m struggling to find not only the words to express my feelings but the feelings themselves are at odds with my expectation. I certainly feel anger but at the loss of the last of my coin only having just regained some. In all honesty, doing those things with a woman in full view of people felt incredible! Did all taverns offer those services? If so, would it be the same or was Ariss uniquely talented?

I was still pondering these questions at 11pm when I arrived in Morthal. With no money, I knew lodging – whether providing other services or not – would be closed to me. There was a crowd, quite upset, outside the Jarl’s home although it was not their leader who addressed them, but her husband, Aslfur. Without funds for shelter, I had an idea inspired by Ariss but had to wait until the crowd left before I could see if it worked. While waiting, I could overhear the crowd’s concerns about a wizard “in their midst”. In Anvil and Cyrodiil as a whole, magic users were so commonplace as to be unremarkable. But this was Skyrim and not a normal place.

Aslfur finished addressing the crowd and they begrudgingly departed. I took the moment to approach one of the guards. He examined my body with his eyes and the shudder that spread throughout my body wasn’t merely from the bitter cold.

“Hello, gorgeous,” I ventured, as calmly as I could. “Are you available?”

His response made it clear he’d understood. ”Are you interested in me?”

I swallowed, my breath caught in my throat. “For 50 septims, I could be yours.”

I was certain he’d refuse, arrest me even. But he agreed and, hoping he’d prefer a private room at Morthal’s inn, I asked how he wanted to take me (even with limited experience of men I knew the language they preferred). His reply was brisk and to the point.

“Face down”. He grabbed my arm, spun me around and with none of the grace or gentleness I felt at the fingers of Ariss. I assumed he meant on a bed in a warm home or inn but no! He meant here, now – and in front of all of these people!

The shock of realisation was little compared to the shock of feeling his manhood pressing against my perineum. For a horrid moment I thought he wanted to penetrate my arse (not that I had anything against that method of lovemaking, more than doing so without the necessary oils and preparation did not bear thinking about) but thankfully he moved it down towards my vagina.

His skin was sticky from that day’s sweat and his breath was still scented by his last meal. Now I was naked with legs spread wide by his thighs, he paused only briefly to smear spittle on the head of his penis before pushing it in. It hurt at first, given my unready state but as those few inhabitants of Morthal still awake at this late hour began to watch, I became wetter. The guard’s bodyweight pinned me to the ground while the intensity of his thrusts grew. He was a large man but I was unprepared for the length and thickness of his cock. There were thrusts when I wanted to cry out in pain and thrusts I could barely keep from screaming. With both of his hands buried in the snow either side of my head, I knew I would be waiting an eternity for him to attend to my needs, given how intend he was in securing his own pleasure. Using one arm to support his weight, lest he fuck me through the snow and into the soil below, I began to rub my clit. At first the night’s cold had stolen from me any desire other than for coin but my partner’s bodyheat and my own arousal had warmed me sufficiently. My clit was firm and received my touch gladly, so I indulged without hesitation. Impaled on the panting man above me, pinned on the cold ground, the skin of my cheek kept being scratched by sharp stone as the guard's thrusts pushed me across the ground. I tried my best to reach orgasm before his climax but nothing - not even searching my memory for every last detail  of Ariss was enough. With a rough final thrust and a grunt, I felt warm seed splatter against my backside.

Breath coming in ragged gasps, I dressed quickly although before doing so I’d used a handful of half-melted snow to wipe off the cum dripping from my backside. Now back in his armour, I waited for the payment we agreed upon but he did nothing but look past me. When I pressed the matter and went to remind him, he refused to speak to me! He did nothing but speak meaningless words about how he’d been an adventurer until he took an arrow to the knee. I get asking, even offering myself a second time but he showed no interest. With no other choice and no desire to approach another guard, I left the city and knew there was no other option but to make my way to Whiterun on foot. It would be a hard journey through a land I’ve never visited before full of unknowable dangers, but it couldn’t contain men who would renege on agreements after sex.

Could it?

Current active quest: Dragon's Breath Mead /Enslaved Wenches

Current level: 1

Current gold: 0gp

Dear dearest diary,

Any hope I may have held to about returning to Dragon’s Bridge before night fell was lost swiftly. Then, when I encountered and had to fight my first pack of Skyrim wolves, I began to pray I would return with my life if anything at all! The final rays of days were being swallowed by the time I found the stash but it was so dark, I could barely see my hand in front of my face. Cursing myself for leaving Solitude without even a single torch and fearful of other wolf packs lurking in the hills, I had no choice but to nestle myself between the rocks and pray for dawn to break.

I slept not a wink, my heart being sent into spasms with every howl and hoot. Each and every hour I spent on that Divines-forsaken hill I was convinced would be my last. Finally, as testimony to the mercy of Dibella, the night gave way to the most beautiful of sunrises. My soul soared and I was renewed with determination and courage. In fact, I decided that while I had sympathy for Olda, it was Horgeir’s choice what he drank and how often. I therefore decided to leave the bottle of mead his wife had demanded for his to enjoy later (although I was extremely sorry that during the night, I’d accidentally wedged the bottle deep into the crevasse so deeply I doubted anyone would ever be able to remove it).

I returned to Dragon’s Bridge, avoiding Olda, and proceeding directly to the Four Shields Tavern, where I gladly traded some of Horgeir’s alcohol for fresh food, water and a bed. My belly full and my bones aching for sleep, I took a moment to pleasure myself as I often did while studying at the Temple in Anvil. Something about the act (other than the obvious benefit) surrounded by people who can certainly hear reminds me of those joy-filled nights with my fellow novitiates in the dormitories and always brings such comfort. For the first time since arriving in Skyrim, I fell asleep with a smile.

I rose at 5:25pm. While logic would dictate I remain in Dragon’s Bridge until morning, I had already lost a great deal of time and I was genuinely afraid I would run out of funds before I travelled much further if I stayed here. Regrettably though, I asked one of the serving girls if she knew what “other services” an inn could provide. Ariss smiled and asked me whether knew what I wanted to do. Fearing my ignorance would lead to ridicule, I said that I would defer to her judgement. She stepped closer until her scent was all I could smell. She murmured something about “having wanted to try something for a while” but, before I could enquiry further, she had removed her clothing. The body the abandoned material revealed was like nothing I’d seen before. Amble of breast and with the smoothest, most perfect skin, she seemed completely at peace with being naked in front of all these people.

Then she striped me and silenced any protest with a kiss. My desire to ask questions melted into desire for her continued touch as her tongue entered my mouth. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see men and the other women cease what they were doing to watch as Ariss guided me down to the floor. Her fingers traced a path down my cheek, across my breasts (with the tips dancing across my nipples like the touch of butterflies) before sliding past my belly. Before I knew what was happening, her hand was on my vagina, my lips eagerly allowing her fingers entry. Her touch was like my own but yet moving of its own accord, and her skill in finding the right place where a fingertip should be moved in one direction or when a finger needed to curl at exactly the right angle was exemplary.

As the wave of orgasm began to rise, Ariss placed a hand – oh so gently – on my chest and wordlessly told me to lay on my back. I did so without question, my eyes darting to the rhythmic movements the hands of our audience, hidden under skirts or rumbling with trousers, were making in the dark. I knew what they were doing of course. Growing up in a small house and later in the dormitory, I learnt how to recognise the signs of discrete masturbation. But never had that self-pleasure been aimed at me. I was thrilled without doubt but only felt comfortable because of Ariss’ presence and calmness.

The sweat across my back soaked into the bearskin rug I laid on. Below me, Ariss’ lips had moved to my thighs, which were swapped every few moments for my belly. I was about to tell her I’d always been ticklish when she suddenly stopped, and her tongue found my clit like an arrow finding its target. The warm, wet, strong muscle made itself at home amongst my lips and wetness. My breath began to match her movements – fast when she sped up, softer when the tip of her tongue flattened out into a leisurely pace. I wanted to climax. I needed to climax but still she played with my body.

She must have heard my body's urging (most likely through my grinding my pussy against her mouth) for her tongue increased in speed, darting between my lips and rolling over my clit. My heart threatened to break through my ribs it was beating so hard but Ariss simply smiled and kept going eventually, mercifully, bringing me to a delicious orgasm. I lay and waited for my body to stop squirting its fluids onto the rug, closing my eyes as the other patrons reached their own heights of pleasure.

Current active quest: Enslaved Wenches

Current level: 1

Current gold: 0gp

Dear dearest diary,

I am embarrassed to say that my journey from Solitude was not as dignified as I might have hoped. I took the wrong road rather early on and ended up by the river. I debated for some time whether or not to attempt to wade across it (if only to avoid having to back to where I’d come from) but I spent so long hesitating that I ended up wasting more time than if I’d simply decided to retrace my steps! As it was, it was early evening by the time I found the right track and I knew there was no possibility of making it to Morthal before nightfall – or even before the dawn. I would have to head to the nearest settlement I came to on the path, even if I neither knew where that would be or had coin to pay for lodgings when I did. I must confess, my mood was grim and each step made my hide boots feel as if they were made of lead.

I did, however, on my travels encounter a Dunmer, who briskly informed me he was on his way to Solitude to enlist in the Imperial Legion. Troublingly, he was not doing so as a loyal subject of the Empire but simply because he was unhappy with how the Nords treated him and his kind! I’ve no doubt the instructors at Solitude will quickly correct his attitude into something more fitting an Imperial soldier.

The sun was beginning to set when I arrived at the settlement of Dragon Bridge – which was accurately named for the river hear was spanned by a might bridge carved in the likeness of a dragon’s spine – or at least as much as anyone could know what the spine of a mythical creature looked like!

Dragon’s Bridge was home to a mill, tavern and the headquarters of local Imperial Legion detachment. Outside the barracks was Azzada Lylvieve, a Redguard farmer who seemed rather unhappy with visitors. It seems both Stormcloak rebels and Imperial troops frequented the town but he alleged the Stormcloaks used the tavern without paying and one even tried to assault his daughter! Of course, he didn’t say that he was referring to the rebels, but he must have been. Despite me being of Imperial stock and thus his natural “cousin”, he refused to offer me shelter for the night.

Confused, I meandered further into town and encountered a strange and rather angry woman called Olda. Wife to Horgeir, she was furious her husband continued to drink alcohol and wanted me to remove the stash of mead and ale he’d hidden in a crevice in the nearby hills. If I refused, then she said she was happy to cut out his tongue! While I had no desire to become involved in a domestic squabble, her permission to keep any drink I found (except a bottle of Dragon's Breath Mead, which – as her husband’s favourite – I was to return to her), I was in desperate need of drink and coin – if Olda was so inclined. Reluctantly, I agreed and followed her directions into the hills. My only hope is that I could return before night fell.

Yours,

Deborah

Current active quest: Enslaved Wenches

Current level: 1

Current gold: 652gp

Dear diary,

I arrived in the great city of Solitude safely and full of determination to do what I must to defeat bandits, save innocent serving girls, and bring honour to my temple. The first thing I did, however, was throw the ridiculous hat the High Priestess insisted I worn into the river.

The docks were quiet and, leaving the other passengers to disembark, I made my way up the hill to the city gates, passing Katla’s farm and a carriage driver on the way. It was at there I encountered the first of the poster advertising one of the captured women as a slave. I was disgusted by how brazen the bandits had been, putting it up so close to the gates. I had honestly believed in that moment that the bandits must still be present in the area for surely no decent peacekeeper of the Empire could ever allow such wanton wickedness to exist for more than a few moments before tearing it down in white hot rage!

Alas I was to be left shaken once more for at the top of the hill, scant feet from Solitude’s gates was another poster, this one from the City Watch declaring that it was in fact the women who formed a bandit gang called The Deadly Wenches and their captors were operating in full sight of the law.

I was repulsed as the truth of why the authorities of Solitude had not answered the High Priestess’ call for aid revealed itself to me. Nether-the-less, I had an obligation to uphold and so, with a heavy heart, I pushed open the gates and stepped inside.

I did so to witness yet more justice The execution of the very man who’d allowed Ulfric Stormcloak to escape after his horrific murder of the High King. This condemned man had, in many ways, been the one to plunge Skyrim into civil war. Humbled being such a witness of history, I took my place amongst the growing crowd as the headsman swung his axe – although I was disturbed to also see a young woman shackled within arms’ length of the traitor’s head as it lay in the basket.

The execution over, I began to compose a mental “shopping list” for my task. Obviously I would need food and water for there would be a great deal of travelling across the province. I decided to sell everything I couldn’t be certain would be essential for the journey ahead. My clothes and jewellery were replaced by an iron sword and armour crafted from animal hide. I could not afford a shield (my, that city is so expensive!) but did spend the last of my gold on leather to fashion a travelling cape. It seems that the design of the armour is somewhat unexpected for what you’d considered essential for such a cold climate. Perhaps it’s the hardiness of the Nord people I hear so much about!

I regretted not being able to spend more time in this beautiful city but it was already past noon I did not know how many more daylight hours I could expect this far north. I resolved to spend at least one day in the city when my task was complete – no matter how far in the future that may be – if only to explore the vaguely described “other services” the landlady of the Winking Skeever hinted at when buying my provisions and water skins from her. While I must confess I have precious little knowledge of the inn-keeping trade but Rina had offered me wine, food and lodgings. Whatever else could there be to partake in? Most curious!

The only wrinkle in the day was that I no longer had the coin to afford the carriage ride to Whiterun, the city closest to Embershard Mine and the suspected base of the bandits. There, the High Priestess had been informed, a woman of particular importance was being held prisoner. I needed to make my way there on foot – or travel to the next city in this region. My carefully-folded map (which I’d inserted into the armour near the base of my spine to reduce chaffing) told me this was called Morthal. My dear diary, where on Tamriel could such an odd name exist but in the untamed province of Skyrim?

Yours,

Deborah.