Practice

This is a multi-chapter series based on The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim, with a big focus on BDSM/kink. Any and all feedback is incredibly appreciated. Hope you enjoy!

***

Warming herself by the firepit, Nadine settled into the rickety wooden chair at the Bannered Mare, letting loose a contented sigh as she sipped her wine. The burgundy-coloured liquid stained her lips as it cast a pleasant warming glow through her body; the notes, berried, spiced and oaky, lingered on her palate. Listening to the soft pluckings of the local bard's lute interspersed with the sounds of a broom sweeping, idle chat and clunking tankards, she mused that this was the perfect way to unwind after a spectacular week's end.

How was it that she felt both fatigued and energised?

Her body ached, and she knew that sleep would not evade her for long, but still she yearned to be around people, to share in their kinship, if even just in spirit. She loved to be around others, even if not directly interacting; often her favourite pastime was to sit as she was right now, engrossed in a book or simply just observing, taking in the shared experiences and conversations of others. Languidly, she played with the silver pendant that nestled against her collarbone, feeling the ridged texture of the triskele pattern engraved in the metal - her collar when she wasn't within the sanctum, subtle enough not to arouse suspicion but still symbolic of her commitment.

The chilly breeze of the evening snaked in as the inn doors opened, a figure of a woman following it.

Ysolda.

Nadine's heart skipped a beat, nervous to see the woman again in such a different setting. What was she to do? How was she to act? As if picking up on her nervous energy, Ysolda shot Nadine a warm smile, lighthearted and graceful, greeting her as an old friend would.

Phew.

"Evenin', Ysolda," the barmaid's voice called out in a warm, Nordic singsong as she listlessly scrubbed a tankard.

"Good evening, Hulda. How are things?"

"Eh. Slow. Gives me less work to do, but puts less gold in my pockets," she responded, smiling wanly as she filled the tankard from the large wooden keg in front of her. "Saadia's been sweeping the same spot for about twenty minutes now, and Olfina went home because it was so damn quiet."

"What, you mean she went to Jon Battle-Born's chambers?" Ysolda smirked at the barmaid, knowing how much of an incorrigible gossip the woman was.

"Don't let her catch you saying that, she'll have your head if she does."

"She can damn well try," she said with a devilish glint in her eye, picking up the ale Hulda had placed in front of her and taking a sip.

"Anyway, gives me a chance to listen in on all the gossip and find out what's happening. Did you hear Adrianne and Ulfberth had a break-in?"

Nadine nearly choked on her wine.

"No!" Ysolda remarked, doing an alarmingly good job at feigning surprise and concern. "Not Warmaiden's?"

"That's the funny thing. It wasn't Warmaiden's - it was their house. Something about a book or a trinket, I'm not sure."

"Oh, that's awful! Did they find the person responsible?"

"Someone from the Thieves Guild, as always," Hulda tutted with a look of disdain on her face. "Not sure who."

"Well, whoever it is, I

certainly

hope they end up clapped in irons." Ysolda remarked haughtily as she turned to Nadine, a knowing smile tracing her lips and the wickedest glint in her glowing amber eyes.

***

Retiring to her room, Nadine's heart raced. Ysolda had gone about the rest of her evening as normal, flirting with the bard and chatting with other patrons, nobody but the two of them being any the wiser to their exchange or any of the things they had been doing that weekend. Where they had been. Where their tongues had been.

By the Gods...

She reached into her knapsack, retrieving the items Giraud had given her as her "homework" assignment. Three small satchels - one containing the moonstone plug, the other two containing progressively larger versions in glass and steel respectively; a bottle of the same slippery liquid that had been used on her before, and finally, a soft cover leather journal with instructions written inside. She breathed in the scent of the leather, blushing already at how aroused this now made her, the association with her newfound pleasures writ large in her mind. Eager to begin, she read.

"Dearest Nadine,

You are to follow these instructions to the letter. Failure to do so will result in swift and unyielding punishment.

You are to visit the nearest market stall, purchase the largest feasible cucumber you think you can take, scrub it thoroughly in the nearest stream and practice fellating it until you are certain you can take as much of your Master as he wishes.

You are to pleasure yourself when the fancy takes you, wherever and whenever that may be. While doing so, you must insert a plug in your backside - as big as you can manage, starting small at first. Use the provided lubricant liberally - visit Adrianne in Whiterun or Ingun in Riften if you require more.

You are to bring yourself to the precipice of orgasm, but you are

not

to fully succumb. You are to do this at least thrice per time.

You are to lick your fingers clean when you are done.

You are to record each incident in the pages following, including any transgressions if applicable, and return ready to submit yourself and your findings on Fredas."

Nadine was panting, the instructions alone making her grow weak with lust. How was she going to survive a full week of bringing herself to the brink of her own ecstasy, only to then steal it away? The thought alone was both maddening and intensely arousing.

She quickly shuffled off her smallclothes, sticky and damp with her secretions, letting them tangle around her ankles as she hoisted up her dress. Hungrily and impatiently, she prised the small satchel open, grasping the moonstone plug inside as she reached for the glass bottle of lubricant next to it.

By Sanguine, she was positively drenched already; would she even need it?

She loosened the laces running the front of her dress, her breasts spilling out from the newly liberated fabric, the image of her rapidly becoming more and more indecent as she laid splayed on the bed.

How terribly wanton she was...

As she pushed the slippery stone plug against her rear entrance, she let out a low mewl, her tight hole giving purchase to the object of its desire.

Clawing at herself with a primitive need, Nadine's thoughts raced.

Oh, how she wished she had company, to fill her other hole...

plunging her own fingers inwards, she pumped them in and out with a reckless desperation in an attempt to emulate the feeling of being filled by a hard, thick cock.

The last time she had been in this room, it had been her first time with Brynjolf...

her other hand plucked harshly at her stiff, tender nipples, occasionally taking pause to rake along her soft, pale skin on their way to her engorged clit.

How wonderful she had felt over his knee, him making her melt with his sublime seduction, begging to be spanked and sucking him off until she swallowed as much of his seed as her inexperienced mouth could manage... fuck, she was so close...

Feeling herself nearing climax, she abruptly stopped, struggling not to cry out in anguish at the twisted punishment she'd just inflicted on herself.

So near, yet so far... how was she to do this two more times? And what then - was she permitted to allow herself release after that?

Slowly, she began to work herself over again, her intense drive to succeed at her task sparring with her overwhelming urge to submit to her own orgasm - a war against herself, in which she was to be the loser regardless of the outcome. Her fingers circled her clit gently, every movement sending jolts of electric pleasure through her body. She felt herself begin to unravel again, thoughts drifting to her encounter with Giraud and Ysolda.

Her tongue against her cunt, teasing its way up to her arsehole, lapping as his fingers pistoned into her, gasping for air and trying to read her lines... Gods, yes, more...

Shivers and spasms coursed through her body, her hips arching upwards to thrust against something,

anything

to grant her the release she craved but finding nothing. Abruptly pulling both hands away, Nadine whined at the cruelty of the exercise.

She had been so damned close!

Clutching both hands into tight fists, she slammed them down on the straw-stuffed mattress in frustration.

Behave, Nadine, you're acting like a petulant child having a temper tantrum.

Feeling a twinge of embarrassment at the realisation, she attempted to steady herself.

Her fingers traced her cunt, smearing her juices along her nether lips as she massaged her clit languidly between her middle and ring finger, the rhythm gradually growing more intense and sporadic. Ysolda's voice rang in her head, eyes twinkling like wildfire. '

I

certainly

hope they end up clapped in irons.'

Her fingers plunged lower, entering her hot, tight channel.

The way she had tasted... how she had melted against her mouth as she made her come... what deviant, delicious whores they both were...

Desperately, she pistoned her fingers, grinding herself against the flat of her palm.

She really should be shackled and taught a lesson... please, yes, oh Gods yes, fucking show me what a bad girl I've been...

Unable to find the willpower to pull her hand away this time, Nadine let herself be enveloped in her orgasm as it tumbled over her violently. Her hips bucked and her body shook like a woman possessed. Once she had come undone, she found she could not stop; frantically gyrating and grinding against herself, her stuttered movements pushing her over the edge once more.

A thin sheen of sweat glistened across her skin. The sound of her laboured breathing and shuddering moans permeated the silence, louder than she really ought to be. Eventually, she withdrew her fingers from within, sucking the abundant, heady juices from them. As she tasted her own unique flavour on her tongue, its notes matching that of the smell that lay heavy in the air, her cunt twitched with arousal at the sheer perversion of the act.

Such a naughty, depraved slut...

She had failed her first assignment, she realised. Still, she would worry about that more come Fredas. For now, she would clean up, record her results and sleep.

***

The rest of the week trudged on as slow as treacle, Nadine doing everything she could to keep herself busy, in an attempt to keep herself from thinking deviant thoughts that would inevitably lead to her own self-imposed torture. This turned out to be fairly problematic, as her first assignment - purchasing and fellating a cucumber - was fairly erotically charged in nature. Her cheeks blazed scarlet as she asked the pretty greengrocer for the largest cucumber she had, her eyes widening as she obliged Nadine's request. She waited until she had headed further west of Whiterun until she gave it a good scrub, away from the prying eyes of anyone else, embarrassed about its true purpose. Quickly drying it off and wrapping it up in a cloth, she tucked it away in her knapsack, waiting until she was somewhere completely private before she fulfilled the last part of the request.

She journeyed further west still, making haste for Rorikstead. The rest of her week was filled with exploring nearby ruins, attempting to stay chaste by lusting after knowledge instead. As successful as this proved to be during the day, it proved more difficult as the sun set and she retired to the local tavern, Frostfruit Inn, where the firelight danced and the mead flowed and her inhibitions dissipated much too easily.

Tirdas evening, a young couple sat sharing a bottle of Alto Wine, wrapped up in each other as they whispered sweet nothings in each other's ears. That night when Nadine retired, she imagined the pair continuing their torrid tryst; the woman's back against the stable wall as her lover lifted her legs and thrust himself into her, both struggling to keep quiet as they were driven over the edge, his seed spilling down the inside of her legs as they snuck into the night. On this attempt, Nadine managed to hold off the required three times, retrieving the moonstone plug from her snug arsehole and placing it in the washbasin before focusing her frustrated attentions on the large cucumber. She could make it almost to the back of her tongue without gagging - was there anything that would make it easier, she wondered? Pulling it out of her mouth, she noted her progress in the journal, making an internal note to ask Ysolda and Ingun for any advice they may have.

Her wash in the great outdoors on Middas morning proved to be more difficult than usual, her pent-up frustrations from the night before causing every brush of her fingers against her skin to make her cunt throb, prompting her to finish what she'd started. She tried the glass plug this time, the coolness of it combining with the slight chill in the air and making her skin grow taut. It was slightly more challenging, but still slid in with relative ease, the fuller feeling of the glass being even more delightful than the moonstone plug had felt. She didn't even delay her first orgasm this time, accepting her fate and letting it consume her wholly as the water crashed over her.

After a particularly gruelling day of hiking across barren wastelands and spelunking damp, dark caves, Nadine returned to Frostfruit Inn on Turdas evening, her bones aching. She needed food, something strong to drink, and a good night's sleep. Finding the tavern bustling when she arrived, she knew that a peaceful sojourn was not on the cards.

As soon as she tucked into the wonderfully hearty horker stew and sank her first long sip of ale, she loosened up significantly, deciding maybe her mind did have the energy for revelry this evening, even if her body didn't.

At the table next to her, a motley band of travelers was gathered, all deep in their cups. The four of them bantered riotously - two great hulking Orsimer, one male, one female; a breathtakingly muscular Nord man with flaxen hair and a battleworn face; and a particularly bulky and butch looking Dunmer woman, whose sanguine eyes bored into Nadine as she drained her tankard.

"Hey, gorgeous," the Orc woman leered, "fancy some company?"

"I'm fine," Nadine responded coolly, defensively touching the pendant that hung around her neck.

"Oh, don't be like that, sweetheart," the Nord slurred, voice heavy with sleaze and mead.

The Dunmer woman spoke, her blood-red eyes looking pointedly at the pendant as a smirk danced across her lips. "Leave the girl alone. She's taken."

Shit. How did she know?

That night when Nadine retired to her room, her blood rushed with pure adrenaline knowing that a stranger knew her deepest, darkest secret. Her body ached, but her mind was whirring. More than anything, she needed to let go, even if not completely. Tonight she tried the largest plug, having mastered the two previous ones satisfactorily. The metal felt much weightier in her hand, and would undoubtedly feel so in her arse - as she covered it with the lubricant, she wondered if this would be a good or bad thing. Sliding it in, it felt much too large at first, but as she stroked her clit gently with her other hand, she felt her arsehole give purchase to the metal plug, gobbling it up with surprising ease. Once it was in, she had her answer - it felt incredible. The weight easily made it the most satisfying so far, and she could feel her own body heat warm the metal in a gorgeously pleasing manner.

She wondered if the Dunmer woman - if any of the crowd next door - knew what she was doing to herself right now.

Maybe they'd like to join me...

Nadine toyed with herself roughly, pistoning her fingers in and out furiously as she pulled and twisted her plump nipples, loving the familiar feeling of pain mingling with pleasure. Letting out low, lustful moans, she briefly wondered how loud she was actually being.

Just a wall dividing me from everyone...anyone could hear what I'm doing right now...

Nadine pushed herself to the edge four times, barely making it on the last attempt. Frustrated and exhausted, she performed the rest of the now familiar ritual before drifting easily into a deep, fitful sleep.

She dreamt in lurid, technicolour detail that night. In the tavern, chained to the table; the drunken, rough group taking turns with her, using her in whichever way they pleased. Calloused hands groping at soft, pliant flesh; beards and stubble and tusks scratching across delicate, unspoiled skin. Her excitement flowed from her core like honey, as well as her pleas for release -

fuck me, use me, take me until I come undone

. All the while, the Dunmer's eyes burned into Nadine's own, ruby red and glowing brighter than molten steel as she gave her orders.

"Pull her hair. Mark her skin. Let them know we've seen to her."

Nadine cried out as she felt the assault of nails scratching across sides, teeth sinking into neck flesh and fists yanking hair, her body arching upwards in response.

Skin grey and glimmering, the Dunmer's voice dripped with mead and poison, every word snarled in Nadine's ear inching her ever closer to the release she craved. "Not so prim now, are you, you fucking tart..."

Nadine awoke with a start, bleary-eyed and panting in her room at the inn. Her body burned; the fur blankets tossed on the floor unceremoniously during what had to have been an extremely restless sleep. It felt so real - had it actually happened? Examining her body for any marks, she concluded that it had definitely only been a dream, but the wetness drenching her smallclothes was very real.

Fan-bloody-tastic.

Morning finally came, and Nadine rode on to Whiterun with purpose, getting there in ample time to relax and enjoy the day. She stopped by the Khajiit caravans, buying some much needed supplies - moon sugar, especially, was one of her favourites. Excellent for some basic potions, as well as for making Elsweyr Fondue - a dish so delicious it made Nadine's mouth water just to think about.

Oh, how good it was to enjoy with some rare meat and apples and crusty bread!

She had also, occasionally, dipped her finger in and had a lick of the raw sugar when nobody was looking, enjoying the fuzzy, warm feeling it gave her, but she tried not to do it too much, fearing her somewhat addictive personality would lead her to eventually get hooked on the stuff. Or worse, skooma. No, that didn't bear thinking about, really.

Opening the door to the Sanctum, she breathed in the familiar scent - old books, leather, mead and sweat, with a slight note of damp mustiness underneath that was not completely unpleasant. She was home. Being more familiar with the ritual this time, she followed Ingun to the makeshift bathhouse, readying herself for the night ahead.

Upon her return, Nadine noticed it was a lot quieter than usual this evening - both Ysolda and Aela were missing, as was Brynjolf, to her disappointment. Although she lusted after everyone in the Sanctum, each alluring in their own unique way, she still very much had a soft spot for Bryn. He was her first, and ultimately the reason she was here in the first place - the catalyst, at least. She also couldn't see Drevis, but being familiar with his proclivity to disappear at will, wasn't sure if he was absent or just invisible.

"Where are the others?" she asked Adrianne, handing her a goblet of wine.