Date: Sundas, 18^th Last Seed, 4E 201

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.