Lemon oneshots

Dibellion Servitude: Skyrim

Marcen downed her third cup of mead. "Another!" She shouted with sober pride.
"As long as you keep paying," Klepper the innkeep said, and poured her another cup.
She happily downed the sweet liquid with some dripping down her lips. "Whoever makes these - they deserve a warm night with a buxom woman!"
"Are you offering?" A sudden voice rolled from within the bustle around her: a myriad cheers roared as well.
Marcen laughed. "No man may tame me - unless I let him!"
Her remark sent a flurry of boos and cheers from around her. She stared down into her cup with a nigh buzzed smile.

With her black cloak's hood down, revealing her autumn hair and green eyes, along with her matching chest piece and pants, she resembled a learned, if not obvious, traveler of great renown.
"You're quite a smooth talker," came a haggard voice behind her.
"It comes with being a sellsword," Marcen remarked. She eyed the old beggar pass into her view and sit beside her, though separated by the bar's corner.
"How about smooth talking me some alms!" He chuckled humorlessly, as if a threat.
"I'm sure you can beg for some from those forsworn," Marcen spat.
"Youth!" The beggar growled. "Respect for your elders means nothing now!"
"Not when they're ragged and stink like you!" Marcen shouted: her voice trembled the walls of the inn, and most of its rabble quieted. The beggar stared into her wide eyes - and laughed a genuine, hardy compliment: "no wonder you look so good - no man could ever bed you!"

His humor caught the inn's levity and brought Marcen's tension down. She laughed as well, saying, "I won't lie and pretend you're not wrong!"
"That's what I like!" The beggar said. "A woman of range - how about a job?" He asked suddenly, and lowered his voice and levity.
"A job," Marcen mused. "What kind?"
The beggar huddled close: "you see, I happen to know of a solid gold statue of Dibella within that temple here."
Marcen nodded.
"Now, they won't let poor Degaine inside; but you, you look like - like they wouldn't see you at all!"
"So I steal the statue and return it to you?" Marcen asked. "Easy."
Degaine smiled: his broken and yellowed teeth obvious within the candlelight. "Good; I have this, here, well - healing potion for you in return."
Marcen slid her cup away and stood. "Better be a damn good potion."

***

"I'm cumming!"
Marcen's body shook violently: her legs, caught and spread with rope, and her arms fastened against the floor of the Dibellian temple flooded with ecstacy. The large golden dildo the head priestess plunged deep into her vagina was now slick with her lust.
"Such pleasure!" One priestess said, hovering around Marcen.
"Oh!" Another cooed. "She finishes quick!"
Marcen peered up over her breasts and into the eyes of the priestess.
"There!" She said, still drunk in her orgasm. "I've served your Goddess!"
Senna stood, only in her undergarments, and asked: "sisters, has this theif of our Goddess' likeness found redemption in pleasure?"
Marcen gazed around at the three women gawking toward her: all were nude, and all spoke almost in complete unison.
"No!"
Marcen sighed, her body already weary. "How much must I serve!?" She asked. "I'm starting to believe going to jail was the better option."
Senna kneeled back down and grabbed and twisted the dildo deep within Marcen's pussy.
"Oh - no!" She groaned. "Please! Please - I'll serve - I'll serve!"
Senna grinned, yet pushed the device deeper in. Marcen howled once its tip reached her wall.
"So amazing!"
"She must be seeing stars!"

"By the nine!" Marcen gasped. "I can't - I'm gonna throw up!"
Senna chuckled, and thrust her dildo in a final time, and, slowly, pulled it out. Marcen shivered every inch of its departure; her teeth chattered once it was left rolling against her thigh.
"Thank you, priestess," Marcen gasped.
"Girls!" Senna shouted: "how long must our theif here redeem in Dibella's aura?"
Marcen's heart sank when she heard them all say: "when our Goddess demands it enough!"
Senna turned toward her. "Get her a meal and a drink; and prepare yourselves!"

Marcen groaned against her bindings watching the priestesses tend their shrine, and prepare an admittedly pleasant meal for her. She tried closing her legs in vain; and her exposed flesh sung in chills and warmth of the stone walls around her. She caught the eye of one priestess staring: she quickly turned away and returned to her duties.
"I'm surprised," Senna stated, standing beside her. "Most women usually accept jail time over us."
"Yeah," Marcen began, "well: a thief with three standing warrants out in Markarth wouldn't see the sun in years."
"Ah," Senna said. "A thief of practice."
"Ha-ha," Marcen sneered. She pulled at her wrists.
"Don't worry," Senna cooed. "Your meal is almost finished." She kneeled down besides Marcen and explored her chest with a genuine love in her eyes.
"Oh - your hands are warm!" Marcen groaned.
"Yet your body is cool," Senna replied. "But you've such a beautiful bust."
"As I've been told," Marcen said proudly. She grit her teeth in pleasure once Senna pinched her nipple, pulled, then let go; she continued her toying until Marcen's groans became gasps.
"You're very receptive," she stated. "You orgasmed after only two minutes - Dibella has most certainly blessed you!"
"I'm so glad to hear it," Marcen moaned.
Senna furrowed her brow, and said: "I've been such a poor host for our Goddess!" She reached up at her bra and pressed one of her breasts out. "Explore as you wish."
She hovered her breast over Marcen's lips; and Marcen took her up, and nibbled playfully. She sucked and pulled, releasing her nipple with a plop!
"Oh!" Senna moaned. "Your lips are so warm!"
"Your breast is," Marcen nibbled, "soft, and bigger than I thought."
"If you stop," Senna begged. "If you stop - I'll - I'll torture your orgasm for a week!"
Marcen believed Senna's lust driven warning, and continued sucking, nibbling, and plopping! Her breast.
"Marcen!" She moaned. "Oh Marcen - Dibella thanks you!"
Marcen continued sucking her breast -
"Senna!"
"What!?" She howled.
"Marcen's meal is prepared!"
Senna groaned in disappointment: she caressed Marcen's hair, and kissed her. She stood tucking away her exposed flesh. "Then feed such a blessing!" She shouted. "Feed her well! For she's staying!"
"What!?" Marcen yelled.
"Really?" The priestesses asked in shock. "Was this another gift from Dibella?"