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Fabulosa brought her to a stop in front of a woman that could only be described as radiant. Her skin was golden, with firm breasts and a particularly curvaceous backside.
“What about this fine specimen? Such full breasts and yet such a slender waist. A truly rare combination, don’t you agree?”
Are you a delicate little flower, Teigra? Or are you a rose with fucking thorns?
Teigra breathed deeply, forcing herself to take the woman in, fighting the urge to look away. To her surprise, the beauty gave a smile at the compliment. Her mouth was alluring—her lips full and soft.
Her embarrassment faded a little. The woman didn’t seem so vulnerable now. If anything, she seemed strong. Confident. And utterly unashamed of her beauty.
“Yes,” whispered Teigra. “Yes, I suppose that she... that you are.”
The woman’s smile broadened.
Teigra’s stomach fluttered, as if a statue had come alive and noticed her.
“And don’t you think she has the most magnificent cunt?”
Teigra spluttered. “What!?”
“Her cunt, Teigra,” repeated Fabulosa, matter-of-factly. “We do not need euphemisms here. No passage of pleasure. No hollow of hope. It is her cunt. And I am asking if you think it is magnificent?”
“I... I...” stuttered Teigra, both looking and avoiding looking.
Fabulosa chuckled and turned to the model. “My dear, would you show us a little more of your passion?”
Without hesitation, the woman licked her finger and trailed it down her barley-colored stomach.
Teigra’s heart thundered. Her whole body stiffened.
No...
Shamelessly, the beauty slid her finger between her sex, parting herself, revealing her most intimate place. The tip of her finger traced circles around her point of pleasure, drawing little whimpers from her lips.
Teigra’s whole mouth went dry. She felt distant from her own body.
When the woman at last removed her fingers, she was glistening, her delicate folds swollen and pink. A trail of nectar followed on her fingertips, which she brought to her mouth, slowly swirling around her tongue.
Teigra’s skin prickled as a heaviness came deep in her abdomen, uncomfortable and pressuring. The way the woman shook as she took her fingers away. Those little pants.
Teigra could feel the yearning.
“Beautiful,” said Fabulosa. “I have a Satrap in Barika who would love to meet you, if you would be interested in such an arrangement?”
“What?” said Teigra, snapping back to the present. “You aren’t seriously proposing to... buy her.”
“There you go again, thinking like a Mestibian! Look around you, Teigra. Are these people desperate? Do they lack food or health? No, the only thing they lack is excitement. I do not propose to enslave her. I offer her a contract. Her body will be worshipped like the goddess she is. In exchange, she will receive sumptuous fabrics and the finest food, gifts, jewels, travel, and the attention of powerful people. I would think most here would prefer that to a lifetime holding a mud-covered hoe or a blood-covered spear.”
Teigra looked around, hoping to find rebuttal. Instead, nearby models struck new and even more evocative poses, clearly hoping to catch the high envoy’s attention.
Fabulosa raised a victorious eyebrow to the beauty. “My embassy is right on the bay, in the suburb of Chrysa Touvla. Come by if you would like to discuss the matter further.”
The woman nodded enthusiastically and struck a new pose, her smile even brighter.
Fabulosa released Teigra’s arm. There was no anger in her expression, but it was clear their time together had finished. “If you will excuse me, Teigra, I have many more beauties that I must meet.”
Just as she was turning to leave, she gave Teigra a sly look. “You hold to the Pentariat, don’t you? A good Mestibian girl such as yourself must pray to all the Five, not just your own patron?”
Teigra crossed her arms. “Of course.”
