Even in a city dominated by towers, Bel'Anaroth's Spire stood out. A world away from the elegant structures that dominated the city's skyline or the maze of residential blocks that had sprung up in the centuries since the city was re-inhabited, it looked like nothing less than a giant termite mound; a pale, lumpen mass of white stone, studded with tumourlike growths where its original owners had simply grown new rooms to suit their whims. It was by far the largest building in Swyndel, and had quickly become a sort of neutral ground for the feuding merchant families that ruled the city. Everyone who was anyone had a hand in its upkeep and maintenance, and in exchange, they used it to conduct business meetings or throw extravagant parties without the risk of inviting a potential enemy into their own estates. 
 
Aside from the semi-permanent staff of cooks and cleaners required to keep the building ready for use whenever its benefactors wished, mere common mortals like myself were almost never allowed inside without a written invitation.
 
Or, in my case, you don't get in even if you do have one. 
 
"Look." I snapped, jabbing at the letter in my hand. "Ireela Dratslava. That's me. Me."
 
The Guard's eyes slid down to my letter, lingered there for a moment, then slid back up to me. The expression of faintly amused boredom didn't leave his face for a moment.
 
"No, that's who the letter is addressed to." He said, slowly, as if trying to wring as much entertainment out of the situation as possible. "How do I know that's you, huh? Maybe you just stole this girl's letter. Maybe you're part of some big conspiracy to murder this..." He squinted at the letter again. "Baron Cathwar. More'n my job's worth to let you in."
 
I could have strangled him.
 
"So, what? Do you want me to go round up a bunch of people to vouch for me or something?" I jabbed him in the chest with a finger. "I'll miss my appointment, and you'll get the blame. Is *that* more than your job's worth?" 
 
"Maybe." He spat a wad of tobacco onto the ground. I guess he'd had his fun, because he put his finger against a small crystal set against his throat and turned away from me. 
 
"Boss? Yea, there's some Tief chick out here." He muttered. I could see the crystal light up and pulse for a few seconds. Magic, probably. Swyndel had been full of old magical gizmos left behind by the Elves, most of which the human settlers had co-opted for their own use. "Got a letter saying the Baron wants her for some party or something...no, I don't know, no-one tells me shit. Alright."
 
The last word was addressed to me. The heavy gates, made of the same pale stone as the rest of the tower but wrought with gold and lapis lazuli, began to grind open. Warm light and music shone out from within, and I shot the guard an imperious look as I strode on through. 
 
Now, I'm a farmgirl. Said as much before. My room at the Second Circle was pretty much the height of luxury to me, and even that wasn't much fancier than some old velvet furnishings, a four-poster bed that'd seen better days and running water that sometimes came through hot. I'd seen pictures, and heard stories, of how society's upper classes lived, but part of me always assumed they were overblown - or maybe it was just a bit of schadenfreude, imagining our lords and masters shivering in musty old castles, just as miserable as the peasants that labored for them.
 
I was, as you might imagine, mistaken.
 
Here and there, you could still see signs of the spartan aesthetic the old Elves had cultivated, but the Spire's current rulers had obviously been hard at work layering their own works on top of it. The walls had been paneled over with dark, varnished wood, and the stone floor - the same as the walls, and up close, I could see it was some kind of marble - had been almost hidden beneath a thick red carpet that ran the length of the hall. Trophies of bears, wolves, and other less easily identifiable creatures hung here and there, punctuated with more crystals, like the one the Guard had used but larger - these ones gave off a constant light, and had been rammed into iron brackets to illuminate the area.
 
And there I was, standing in a cheap, plain black dress that I'd had to cut some extra slits in to let my tail move (and before you say, yes, also to show off my legs better), with a few bits of mismatched jewelery I'd either bought or scavenged out of the caves Krisoff and myself had looted thrown on to try and look classy. People bustled back and forth, fetching and carrying or running messages, shooting me questioning looks as they vanished down the side-corridors branching off the main hall. I took a few steps forwards, my cocky stride now reduced to an anxious shuffle, and realized that I didn't know where I was going or who I was looking for. A glance down at the letter clutched in my hands didn't help much.
 
Dear Ms Dratlsava, it said.
 
My name is Baron Darrin Cathwar. It has come to my attention that you are a woman of particular skill and enthusiasm in the trade of affections, and I have decided to make a purchase of your services. In three days hence, a number of my peers will be hosting an event at Bel'Anaroth's Spire, and I find myself without a partner. In exchange for your services as an escort for the evening, you will be paid thirty gold crowns, non-negotiable. Additional rewards may be available depending upon your level of service and initiative. Bring this letter to the Spire's north entrance no later than mid-day and present it to the guards to be admitted.
 
I look forward to seeing you in person. 
 
The baron's neat signature capped the letter off. I'd been almost bouncing off the walls with excitement ever since the courier delivered it, but now, I just felt...insignificant and cheap, almost. Like I didn't belong. I looked down at the letter again, more so I didn't have to see the faint sneers on the faces of the staff as they went about their duties than because I thought it would help, and my tail writhed unhappily on the ground behind me.
 
"Ms Dratslava?"
 
The call jolted me out of my moping. I jerked my head up, and caught sight of a pair of figures emerge from one of the corridors. A neatly-kept man, his remaining hair stubbornly scraped over his balding palette, dressed in the familiar black and white of butlers everywhere was heading towards me, leading a skinny, eager-looking blonde girl behind him. I blinked for a moment in confusion, then raised and hand and waved, as if the bright red skin and horns weren't enough of a clue.
 
"Yeah, uh, yeah! Here, I'm over here!"
 
I quickly hurried up to meet them. "Terribly sorry about the delay," the man said. His voice was short and clipped, and the stress sounded in his voice. "My name is Theldon Ladsley. I'm Baron Cathwar's aide, and I'll be your guide for today. Follow me, please."
 
And then he was off, scurrying away down another corridor before I could get a word in. I quickly scampered after him, the girl falling into step alongside me. 
 
"The baron will explain the terms of your...employment when you see him." Ladsley called back. It didn't sound like he approved. "He has prepared an outfit that should be suitable for someone of your profession. Caelia here will ready and dress you."
 
The girl shot me a thin smile. "Don't mind him." He whispered. "Making sure everything's ready for tonight is putting him under a lot of stress."
 
I felt better as we hurried through the corridors. There was still the distinct feeling that I didn't belong here, something only reinforced by my rather drab clothing, and I still attracted more than a few scornful looks. But I didn't feel quite so lost or confused any more - I had some direction, at least, some idea of where I was going and what I'd be doing. We paused now and then so Ladsley could bawl instructions at the nearest underling whenever he found something dusty or out of place, but presently he lead myself and Caelia to a nondescript door. 
 
"In here." He said, then addressed the other woman. "Everything you'll need has been prepared. I shall return in an hour to see her to the baron."
 
And then he was gone. I could hear his voice echoing down the corridor, yelling about uneven paintings. "Stress? Really?" I said, giving Caelia a look. 
 
"Well, he is a bit of a perfectionist." She said, then shyly added. "And a bit of, an, uhm, an arse."
 
"Right." I pushed the door open. It looked like someone had crossed a public bathhouse with a high-class tailors; one side of the room was dominated by a deep, ceramic bathtub, big enough to hold two or three people, and the other was taken up by an arrangement of three mirrors. Cupboards and wardrobes studded the walls, and as soon as Caelia had entered and locked the door, she quickly hurried over and began selecting a number of bottles. I wandered over to the mirrors, wriggling out of my dress and hanging it on a clothes rail that had been set up next to them. They were arranged at angles, so that when I stood in front of the middle one, I could see my sides in the other two; or if I turned to the side, I could see myself from behind over my shoulder. 
 
"When you're ready, just go ahead and get undressed. Don't be shy, we're both girls. I'm sure you don't have anything I've not -" Caelia stopped mid-sentence as she turned towards me. I stopped admiring myself in the mirror and looked over at her, raising an eyebrow. "Oh, oh, uh. Sorry. You, uh, you already have." She stammered. 
 
"Well, like you said." I grinned, showing off my fangs. "Nothing you've not seen before, right?" She goggled at me for a moment, and I guessed that without Ladsley frogmarching us through the building, this was probably the first time she'd been able to really look at me. Now, I'm used to people staring at me for a variety of reasons, and I recognised the way her eyes were flickering back and forth over me; torn between wanting to study my horns, my tail or my other oddities and not wanting to offend by being too obvious about it. I suppose my nudity didn't help matters either. She eventually caught my eyes and collapsed into another rambling apology.
 
"Caelia." I said. "I have *** with people for money. I'm not gonna get offended if you look at my horns."
 
That didn't seem to help much. She went red and stared resolutely at the ground, but at least it got her moving. She hurried over, still clutching her bottles, as I turned back to face the mirror. The girl dithered around me for a while, muttering to herself, occasionally darting back to replace some of the lotions or ointments she had selected. I noticed one of them - Thantos sulfur-ant paste, used to burn away body hair - I'd used earlier before heading out, and guessed that either Ladsley or the Baron had expected me to be a lot less neat and clean in-person. Eventually, she popped open the last, and squirted a generous dollop of clear liquid into her hand. 
 
"I always liked this one." She said to herself, and began to spread the lotion across my back, filling the room with the scent of crushed lavender. Her hands worked across my skin, rubbing it into my muscles. Then she moved down, her slick fingers caressing my ribs as she worked her way towards my belly. I closed my eyes and sighed, losing myself in the luxurious scent and the feeling of her fingers massaging my body.
 
"So, what's it like?" Caelia said, breaking the silence. "Being an, uh. You know."
 
"A what?" I replied. "A prostitute?"
 
"Yea." Her fingers ghosted up my flank, brushing the swell of my *******.
 
I shrugged. "It's just a hobby, really. I can pick and choose my clients, so I'm getting paid to do something I enjoy. Not sure I'd want to rely on it, though."
 
Caelia's fingers slid over my curves again, cupping my ******* for a heartbeat before flitting shyly away. I opened my eyes and caught a glimpse of her face over my shoulder. She was chewing her lip, and staring quite blatantly at my ass. Out of curiosity, I spread my legs a little and lifted my tail a fraction. Sure enough, her shaking fingers worked their way down, over my ass, caressing my inner thighs and the thick muscle of my tail. A little smile crossed my face. 
 
"But I'll tell you what. When a guy looks at you, and you see how much he wants you...and you can dangle yourself over him like a prize, just out of reach, when you know you can name your price and he'll fall over himself to meet it..."
 
One of her fingers brushed against my heat, drawing a quiet sigh from my lips. 
 
"...that's the best feeling in the world."
 
"Okay!" Caelia squeaked, standing and capping the bottle. Her face was flushed with arousal, and I batted my eyelashes at her. "We-we're done with that. Let me go get your, uh...clothes."
 
Something about the way she said 'clothes' made me think it wasn't just going to be a dress. As she bustled around behind me, I took another look at myself in the mirror. My skin glistened faintly where the lotion had been rubbed into it, leaving behind a thin sheen reminiscent of gold dust along with the scent of flowers. Caelia reappeared, placed a box down behind me and went to work.
 
First, she wound several long, fine chains of gold around my horns. They started at caps on the tips and spiraled down the bony lengths, terminating in a soft purple gem that rested against my forehead. Next, she began to fit me with a large, skeletal shoulderpiece. Like the chains around my horns, it had been wrought from gold, but worked out of perhaps half a dozen metal bands which knotted and overlapped one another like the branches of a tree.
 
"Is there supposed to be something under this?" I asked, shifting my shoulders around. It was surprisingly comfortable, light and with every edge rounded off so it wouldn't cut into my skin. An upside-down triangle of metal ran down my breastbone, drawing the eye towards my chest. It looked like a decorative fitting that should be worn over a robe. As it was, it hid very little of the crimson skin beneath.
 
"If there is, they didn't give it to me." Caelia replied. Similar pieces of branching gold, these ones flush against my skin, were fitted to my forearms. Next, in the reflection of the mirror, I saw her pull out a pair of small golden disks and a multitude of chains. Well, I'm certainly not the smartest person around, but even that was enough of a hint as to just how exposed the outfit was going to leave me. 
 
The golden disks were fitted over my nipples and held in place with the chains. They ran down from the shoulderpiece, over the small swell of my bust, with another that linked between the two. Caelia fitted another set, that came from the back of the shoulderpiece, round my ribs, crossing my chest just under my ******* and joining onto the nipple-disk on the opposite side. The girl didn't even try to hide the way she explored my body as she did it, tracing the curve of my body as she wrapped me in fine lines of gold. I purred in the back of my throat and pushed my chest out for her, thrilling at the delicate touch of her fingers and the cool kiss of the metal against my skin.
 
And that was that for everything above the waist.
 
Two more pieces of woven gold were lifted from the box, each one trailing a length of purple silk, the same colour as the gem now resting against my forehead. Caelia knelt down behind me, and just for a second, I felt the heat of her lips as she placed a single kiss upon my buttock. 
 
"Tail." She said, and I lifted it obediently, teasing her with a glimpse of the wetness tingling between my legs as she locked the next piece of my outfit into position. I twisted and peered back over my shoulder, raising my eyebrows as I saw how it had been designed. A normal loincloth wouldn't have worked - my tail would either have tangled up in it or pushed it out of the way. But the length of metal it hung from dipped sharply, running under the point where my tail met my spine, so it could lie on top of the silk without getting in the way. It also showed off the generous portion of the line between my buttocks every time my tail swished back and forth, but that was probably intentional. I took a moment to get used to it, then wriggled it down my hips another half-inch. 
 
Caelia gave me a funny look. "Are, uh, are you trying to let everyone see your..." she trailed off and flapped a hand towards my crotch. Sure enough, the top of the gentle V leading down towards my mound was clearly visible. 
 
"There's a little spot at the base of my tail." I said. "It's like...well, you know what it's like when you rub your clit, yea?"
 
She nodded. "It's kinda like that. If I go around with this thing any higher on my hips, I'm gonna spend the evening dripping like a tap.
 
"Besides." I added, turning this way and that, admiring my gold-wrought body in the mirror. "It's not like this was built for modesty, was it?"
 
"I suppose not." The other girl grinned. "Okay, this is the last of it."
 
She motioned for me to stand up on my tiptoes, then slipped something under my feet. I rolled my weight back and found myself balanced atop a pair of heels, which Caelia quickly linked to a final set of golden branches, like the ones on my forearms. These ones were tied to my shins with strips of purple silk, like boots stripped down to their barest skeleton - heels, laces, and a network of twisting metal to support my ankle and make walking comfortable. I tested my weight, and after a few experimental steps, found my balance.
 
I took a breath, stepped back, and admired myself. Now, I've never been shy about nudity. The funny thing about being ***** is that a lot of people tend to look away if they see you - they assume they're intruding, or something's wrong, and try to spare your dignity. But the outfit I'd been given skirted the very edges of nudity. It hid almost nothing other than my most intimate areas, and subtly accentuated everything else with lines of flowing gold. The heels raised me up a few inches and held my posture straight, and after a moment's inspection, I found that the silken loincloths were very slightly transparent. I normally keep myself completely shaved, but on a whim, I'd kept a small, dark strip of trimmed pubic hair, which was faintly visible beneath the fabric. And if I was lit from behind, the silhouette of my inner thighs would be clear to all.
 
It was an outfit that demanded attention. It demanded that people looked at me and admired my body, whilst hiding the parts of me that my client had hired the use of for the evening.
 
"Wow." I murmured, glancing into the mirror to my left, and grinned at how the outfit left almost every inch of my sides bare. "This is..."
 
"It's really something." Caelia added. She had flushed so red she could have put me to shame, and was playing with the handle of a hairbrush in her hand. "She swallowed hard. "Uh, can I ask...do you, uh..."
 
I turned and sashayed towards her. "Mmm?"
 
"...do, uh, other girls..." She squeaked.
 
I grinned, letting the forked tip of my tongue flicker over my lips for her. "For the right price. I work out of the Second Circle. Come down there some time and we'll make this happen."
 
You could have cut the sexual tension in the room with a knife. I prefer sleeping with guys - *** with women lacks something, it just feels like it's all foreplay - but I'm certainly not going to turn down another pretty girl if she's willing to pay me for my time. The other woman's touches had already fired me up, and I was half-tempted to put my tongue to work on her in revenge, when Ladsley knocked at the door. 
 
"Are you two finished in there?" He drawled. Caelia cleared her throat anxiously. 
 
"You, uh, go on ahead." She said, glancing down at the hairbrush in her hands. "I've got to, you know. Clean up in here. And someone needs to look after your clothes."
 
"Uh-huh." I grinned, giving her a knowing look as I walked past. "Remember to clean  yourself up when you're done."
 
I breezed through the door, and nodded my head as I heard the click of it locking again behind me. Well, hopefully a little time alone with her hairbrush would give the girl a chance to cool off, and I wondered if I'd see her at the Circle some time. Getting paid to break in the shy and innocent is always a bit of fun, regardless of gender. Ladsley stared down his nose at me - without once taking a look at my nearly-**** body, which I was slightly put out by - and began to lead me off through the maze of corridors again.
 
As we walked, I found that my earlier anxiety had completely evaporated. I no longer felt uncomfortable or out of place; I strutted along behind the butler, the chains wrapping my perfumed body jingling softly in time with my long strides, heels clicking against stone as we passed through a hall that had been left relatively untouched. In fact, the more I saw of the Spire, the more patchwork its decorations seemed to be; some, like the entry halls and the dressing room, wouldn't have looked out of place in a normal human mansion, while others had been decorated very obviously by non-human hands or their owners had gone to lengths to try and preserve the original elven aesthetic. 
 
We wound our way up the Spire, passing something which - by the gang of Orcs that hooted eagerly at the sight of me - I assumed was their embassy, until we re-entered an obviously human-owned area. Ladsley drew to a halt outside a large double door with a little metal plaque bolted above the handle.
 
Baron D. Cathwar, it said. Ladsley knocked politely, and was replied with a return call of "Enter!"
 
He opened the door and gave me an insistent push forwards. I sneered at him, gathered up my silks, and stepped in. 
 
It looked like a drawing room of some kind, and had been decorated much like the other areas of the Spire under human control; all dark wood, thick carpets, and warm colours. There were no trophies on the walls, but several large bookshelves had been set up, along with an ornate writing table half-buried in paper beneath one of the light-crystals. The Baron himself sat in a thickly padded chair next to a roaring fire, an open book in his hand. His clothes were surprisingly plain, just a simple pair of trousers and a dark jerkin. He rose to meet me, a smile creasing his shrewd, hawkish face.
 
"Ah, there you are!" He said, beckoning me to come closer. "Come here. Let me take a look at you."
 
He was older than I thought he'd be, and looked like he'd just fallen short of the second flush of attractiveness some men enter in their later years. The baron wasn't ugly, far from it, but there was no hiding the lines around his eyes, or on his forehead - he looked a little worn, a little tired. Which, in retrospect, I suppose wasn't really that surprising. You get older guys coming into the Second Circle all the time, looking to recapture a spark of their youth by playing around with some bright young thing for a bit. But while he might have been getting on, his eyes were still lively, and he watched me attentively as I walked up to him, my hips and tail swaying with each step. The heat from the fire washed over every inch of my bare skin, and I luxuriated in it just as I did the way his eyes eagerly drank in my barely-clad form.
 
"Well, my retainers certainly weren't lying when they told me about you, were they?" He said, snapping his book closed and placing it to one side. He began to circle around me, examining the outfit as much as he examined me. "What do you think of the clothes? I drew a great deal of inspiration from the southern caliphates, though some modifications were necessary to suit your physique."
 
He waved a hand towards my tail. 
 
"You made this yourself?" I asked, shifting my posture slightly, setting up another rustle of silk and chain. He ran a hand through his silver hair and laughed richly.
 
"Made it? No, no, never. I'm a designer. It's how I earned my place here." He said, taking my hand and leading me over to the desk. Brushing through the paper scattering the surface, I saw how each one depicted an illustration of my outfit, or something very much like it. One was mostly comprised of overlapping veils, with notes showing how they could be removed, one at a time, to tease an audience. Another was mostly chain, wrapping up the arms and legs of the figure, like some sort of faux-bondage outfit. I sifted through the paper and wondered how long he'd been working on this - and perhaps more worryingly, how long he'd been watching me to get my sizes right - when I felt his hand cupping the tight mound of one exposed buttock.
 
"As you can see, I've always found my hands to be suited for tasks beyond mere artifice." He whispered. I could feel him brushing against my bare back, the warmth of his breath against my ear. He squeezed my ass tighter, digging his fingers firmly into the flesh, before letting his fingers creep, slowly but tantalizingly, towards my slit...
 
And then he was gone, striding purposefully across the room, leaving me breathless and painfully aware of the single wet bead making its way down my thick. I quickly fell into step behind him as he led me back to the fireplace.
 
"So!" He clapped his hands together. "To business. You read my letter, yes?"
 
I nodded. "Yes, sir. Thirty gold, non-negotiable. Plus perks." I ran a hand over one of my *******, teasingly slipping my fingers under the chain holding the golden nipple-*** in place, giving him just a flash of my dark bud before hiding it again. "Am I to assume this dress is one of them?"
 
It took him a moment to reply, and I felt a little smug that my teasing had left him as flustered as his left me.
 
"Assuming you live up to your reputation, yes." He said. "You'll also be introduced to a number of the city's most influential people, which I believe might be of use to your side work."
 
Well. I like to think of myself as an adventurer who dabbles in prostitution, not a prostitute who sometimes takes on mercenary work, but I decided not to correct him.
 
"That would be quite acceptable, sir." I said, bowing my head to him. "But I need to know what you have planned for this evening. Do you need me simply as an escort, or will you be employing my more..." I gave him a coy look. "Intimate services?"
 
He laughed at that. "Both, I hope! You'll be employed as an escort to begin with. It's a...a game, I suppose, that we like to play at these events. We all compete to bring the most attractive, or exotic, or just the strangest partner we can find."
 
A small smile played across my face. I wasn't sure about 'strange', but 'beautiful' and 'exotic'? Sure, I'll take that compliment.
 
"You won't have to do much beyond hang off my arm and make conversation." The Baron added. He paused, considering his words before speaking again, as if being careful not to offend. "To which end, how well educated are you?"
 
I shifted uncomfortably in front of him. Growing up in the middle of good-as-nowhere hadn't exactly given me a classical education. "Not, uh, not very, I'm afraid. We didn't have a school where I grew up. Mother taught me things - I mean, I can read and write - and I've picked up other bits since then, but..."
 
I trailed off with a helpless shrug. The baron frowned, then placed a reassuring hand on my shoulderpiece. "Well, you seem smart enough, despite your upbringing. I'm sure you'll do fine." He said. "And as for your more, what was the term you used? Intimate services? Well...I'm sure you'll put them to use at some point tonight."
 
There was a strange twinkle in his eye that told me he knew more than he was letting on, which should have worried me a little. The thought 'I don't like surprises' passed through my head, but was banished by a much more seductive one; the memory of being tied to a bed, blindfolded and helpless as my client worked my body with a buzzing, golden toy...
 
Well, that whole night had been one hell of a surprise, and certainly an enjoyable one.
 
I looked down at the beautiful outfit that had been crafted for me. The coin I was going to be earning was damn good for a night's work, but really, it was the outfit that had really caught my interest.
 
Damnit. First, I sell myself for a nicer room to stay in. Now, I'm selling myself for some pretty clothes.
 
I always was a greedy bitch.
 
"In which case, sir." I said. "We have a deal."
 
"Wonderful. Just wonderful." He ran a hand through my thick, black hair, then checked the little brass time-piece strapped to his wrist. "Hrm. There's a couple of hours before the party begins..."
 
Without really thinking about it, I stepped forwards, wrapping one arm around his shoulders and cupping his groin with my other hand. He groaned, and I could feel his **** stirring to life within his trousers. The baron might have been getting on a bit, but apparently he'd lost none of his youthful vigor, which brought a smile to my face. I ran my palm up and down the growing bulge, pressing my barely-clad chest against him until he let out another groan and gently pushed me away.
 
"No, that will have to...ah, that will have to wait." He gasped. I could see how hungry he was for me; trying to remain decent and polite, trying to look me in the eye, but helpless to stop his eyes from wandering and drinking in the sight of the flesh that he has bought. I ran a hand down the length of my body, rustling my chains and squeezing one of my *******, grinning at the needful look on his face. "I need to, ah, I need to get ready." He said. "I have a library. Why not avail yourself of it, while you have the chance?"
 
Wow. Decent pay, sexy outfit, a chance to make some connections within the city, *and* a bit of an education? I really hit the jackpot with this one. I nodded and scampered off, leaving the baron to his preparations.
 
---
 
A few hours later, Ladsley was sent to collect me. I put back the books I had been studying - history and politics, mostly, trying to get a handle on how Swyndel had come to be the city it was today, and cultivate some general understanding of the big movers and shakers within the merchant-noble circles - and was led back through the now-empty drawing room and into the maze of twisting corridors. The Spire was even busier now, and at times we had to rely on Ladsley's apparently terrifying authority over the lesser flunkies to make our way through in good time. Now and then, I'd spot someone who stood out from the bustling crowds; a dark-skinned woman with a scaly creature curled up in her arms, a short, dumpy man wearing a cloak that glimmered like liquid gold, and even, on one occasion, a pair of long, tapered horns being carefully lowered so that their unseen bearer could step through a doorway. My heart quickened at that. Another Tiefling? I looked down at myself and, for a moment, felt my discomfort start to return. It was like...if I was going to meet another one of my people, I wanted to be seen as someone respectable, not as...
 
The thought didn't finish before being shaken away. I *was* respectable. There was nothing illegal or immoral about selling ***. If I ran into another Tief and  they looked down on me for it, then that was their problem, not mine.
 
I was also aware of how many people were staring at me as I walked past. Now, like I said, I'm used to curious looks; even in Swyndel, which is a complete racial melting pot, Tieflings are pretty rare. Being stared at doesn't bother me, because it's better than them throwing stones, which happened all too often growing up in the backwoods. But dressed as I was, with almost every inch of my skin on display...I found that I genuinely wanted them to look, to admire me, to drink in the sight of the gorgeous red-and-gold being that walked amongst them. My narrow hips swung seductively as I walked, with my tail flicking back and forth behind me. I felt...objectified, almost, but not insulted or devalued; like a living work of art, a beautiful **** statue to be bought and sold by the highest bidder. 
 
Which got me thinking. There would be plenty of rich men and women at the festivities. I wondered, idly, if the baron wouldn't mind be doing a little side-work if I got the offer. The thought blossomed, and for a moment, I saw myself bent over one of the tables, loincloth pulled aside, a small queue of men lining up to drop some money into bowl and take their turn...
 
Of course, it wouldn't come to that. The baron had paid his money, and I was his for the night. But still...I could feel a comfortable heat building inside me, and new traces of wetness gathering within my folds at the idea. I caught one of the servants staring, goggle-eyed at me, and gave him a devilish grin as we made eye contact. Holding him in place with my gaze, I slipped a finger behind the dangling silk that covered my groin, ran it through my wetness, and brought it back out for him to see. And then, without taking my eyes away from him for a moment, I sucked the finger into my mouth, lapping it clean before his astonished gaze.
 
I laughed wildly and leaped away, catching Ladsley - who gave me a disgusted look - before I lost him in the growing crowds. We turned a corner and entered what looked like a waiting room - this one largely devoid of ornamentation, aside from the carpet, light-crystals and a number of seats and divans set up around the edges. A large ornamental clock hung upon one wall, where anyone in the room could easily see it, and the room terminated in a large door, decorated with gold and lapis like the one I had entered through. Next to them, and surrounded by an orbiting cloud of flunkies, stood the Baron. The rather plain clothes he had worn earlier had been replaced with an elegantly cut vermillion waistcoat, layered over a white undershirt edged with gold, dark breeches and tall riding boots. His hair had been colored a rich blonde, which, combined with the outfit, knocked about ten years off him.
 
He dismissed his entourage with a curt gesture as I swept up to him. He took me by the hand and, to my surprise, pulled me in tight against him and kissed me in greeting. I relaxed into it as our tongues explored each others mouths, nibbling playfully at his lips when we finally pulled apart.
 
"My dear," He said. One hand remained around my bare midriff, pressing up together for a moment longer so I could feel how hard he was under his trousers. "It's good to see you again. Did you enjoy the Library?"
 
"I did, actually." I reply. I twist my hips, grinding against the erection bulging out of his trousers. "Education is so very...stimulating, don't you think?"
 
He made a noise, halfway between a laugh and a lusty groan, then pushed me away. "Calm yourself, lady. We'll get to that later."
 
I was tempted to point out that he was the one who started it, but he continued before I could interrupt.
 
"We're going to be going in soon. Remember; be nice, be polite, but above all else, be respectful. Everyone makes up their own titles where, but you'll be fine so long as you refer to them as 'sir' and 'ma'am'. If in doubt, keep quiet and let me speak first."
 
It seemed simply enough, so I nodded to show my understanding as we linked arms and turned to face the door. There was a grinding, mechanical noise from within the walls, and the doors began to swing open on their own. A strange, slightly hollow fanfare blared from within the room, and a high, clear male voice called out;
 
"Announcing Baron Darrin Cathwar, lord of Linen and Gold, master of the silken artifice..."
Well, he was right about one thing - they really did love their titles. I took half a step forward, thinking the announcement was over, but the baron placed a hand on my arm to hold me back.
 
"...And his guest, Ireela Dratslava of Pinebarrow!"
 
I shot him an astonished look and pressed a hand against my chest, as if to say - who, me? *I* get a mention as well? He gave me a reassuring smile and led me into the room, the strange false-fanfare booming around us with every step.

And what a room it was. It had been left mostly untouched by its occupiers, and the whole room shimmered with white marble, gold and the bright lapis blue. A double-row of pale, humanoid statues ran its length, towards a rear wall made up of one huge window that opened up onto a balcony left open to the sky; I could see the stars gleaming above, and Swyndel's multicolored streetlights glimmering below. One concession to the Spire's new owners was a large bar, which had been set up in one corner of the room, and several long tables piled high with foods of all kinds had been laid out. Light, along with the odd, halting music, came from the crystals set into the walls or mounted in iron frames rising from the floor, and a great chandelier hung above; the crystals set within didn't glow, but instead reflected the light cast by those elsewhere in the room, casting it down like a thousand bright shards of glass.
 
The room was already packed, both with guests and serving-staff, and several raised their glasses in greeting as we entered. The baron - and myself, a heartbeat behind him - waved in return.
 
We began to circle the room, meeting and greeting. I was introduced to the short man in the golden cape, who turned out to be called Garrith Stoneson; a half-Dwarf, apparently. His guest simply introduced himself as Brakkith; he was the leader of one of the local Orc clans, and had a hand in the city's army and guards. Brakkith wasn't much taller than me, though the heels helped, but he was enormously broad, with the heavy, round belly that well-fed Orcs often develop. He was dressed in the most ridiculously stereotypical barbarian outfit imaginable, little more than a small loincloth and a furry cape. He laughed heartily at my jokes, and told me to find him later; he might have a job for me.
 
"So," I asked, as we parted from the pair. "How did you find out about me, anyway?"
 
"I rounded up several attractive young men from among my staff, gave them all a sum of money, and told them to spend it on whores then compare notes." The baron replied. I burst out laughing when, several moments later, I realized he wasn't joking. He described several of them and, yes, they matched the descriptions of a number of clients I'd had over the past fortnight.
 
As we circled, I was again aware of just how many people were looking at me. The combination of my race and outfit drew the approving gaze of almost everyone I passed, and more than one of them didn't just settle for looking. Though the first few caught me off guard, I soon got used to the feeling of uninvited hands on my body; usually my ass and thighs, or my tail - including one guy who slipped a finger right under my tailspot, forcing me to bite down on my lip or squeal out in the middle of a conversation with a rather severe-looking Kobold lady - but more than one person went for my ******* when they thought I was otherwise occupied.
 
I liked it. It didn't feel like I was being taken advantage of or anything - my body was exposed, put on display, and their touches felt like a token of their appreciation. I found myself almost trying to encourage it; using my tail to 'accidentally' brush my rear loincloth aside to ****** people to touch me from behind, or co-incidentally turning towards someone and looking away if they seemed particularly interested in the curve of by chest. Cathwar certainly noticed it was happening, but he didn't seem to care. Indeed, after he shot me a wry look as another man slid his hand frustratingly close to my heat, I got the feeling that he liked the idea of me being public property. My mind wandered back to the fantasy I'd had in the corridor, and suddenly, it didn't seem that far-fetched.
 
Now and then, I'd catch sight of the same trio of long horns I'd noticed earlier bobbing above the crowd, and would gently try and steer the baron towards them. We passed a rather frazzled looking young man and a towering female Warforged, shaped to look like a **** statue, and I caught sight of a flash of red skin. I nodded towards it and tugged on the baron's arm, trying not to let him see how excited I was.
 
"If you wanted to talk to them, my dear, you could have just asked." He said. We brushed past another few couples, and there they were.
 
Yes; they. There was two of them. The long, spiraling horns belonged to a woman; while mine stick out sideways, her rose straight up from amidst her short, dark hair, and her brow was lined with a circle of small, bony nubs. If my horns were handlebars, hers were a crown, and I'm a little ashamed to admit that I felt a spark of jealousy at that. Horn envy is a thing, sadly. She was neat and prim, with paler skin than me, dressed in a tight black dress with a neckline that plunged all the way down to her navel, though curiously one that completely concealed her back. 
 
"Ah, Darrin!" She called out, extending a hand in greeting. "Wonderful to see you again. And -" She turned to me, but my eyes were already elsewhere. 
 
Her guest was a first-generation seducer-born. I suppose I should explain something here, though. Most people thing Tieflings come about when a demon and a human, or elf, or whatever, mate. It doesn't work like that - demons can't even get someone pregnant. But if you spend enough time around them, your soul becomes marked by the encounter, and you'll pass that mark down to your kids, if you have them. So if you, or your descendants, then knock up, or get knocked up, by someone else who also has a mark, then the child's a Tief, who has the mark automatically. Each type of demon marks you differently, and if two people with different marks have a kid, then the kid will have a range of features. Now, me? I'm a complete mutt. I *think* there's a bit of seducer in me, which is why my body can take particularly large insertions without being damaged. But this guy was the child of two people who got marked by succubi.
 
He was actually slightly uncanny; like he was too perfect, too attractive, but it didn't stop my body reacting as it did. A shock of white hair fell down around his shoulders, his skin was the vivid red of fresh blood, and his horns curled down around his ear, like a rams. His body was sculpted and masculine without being blocky and ugly, and his striking, noble face creased into a genuinely warm smile at the sight of me. A long, smooth tail that split into three points, like a flog, swept the floor behind him, and a heavy metal collar sat around his neck. From it, a long chain led to the other Tief's hand, and aside from a kilt of leather belts that just about covered the length of crimson meat swinging behind it, he was completely *****.
 
I meant to say something witty.
 
I meant to say something intelligent.
 
What I actually said, was something that sounded very much like "whargarble."
 
Thankfully, the baron and the other two Tieflings burst out laughing. Which didn't really help - his voice was like chocolate and honey, and I felt warmth flooding through my body just at the sound of it. 
 
"Yes, Marius has that effect on people." The other woman laughed. "Go on, darling. Make sure she's got it out of her system."
 
"Of course, love." He purred. He stepped forwards and, before I could say or do anything about it, swept me up into a crushing, full-body hug. He stank of *** and spice and incense, and I sagged into him, luxuriating in the radiant heat of his bare skin gliding over mine as he pressed me against his bare chest. One hand gently lifted my chin up and, for a heartbeat, our eyes met before we kissed. It was deep, passionate - he kissed me like a lover, and I felt his length twitch against my thigh as his other hand slithered down the length of my body. My own hands roamed over his torso, clutching him eagerly to me, digging my nails possessively into his back. Wet heat pounded up through my body, and at that moment, I wanted nothing more than for him to throw me to the ground and **** me, hard, in front of everyone present.
 
And then it was over. He withdrew and stepped back to his mistress' side, leaving me panting, shaking, and very, very wet. They introduced themselves as Marius and Taelil Gherad, a married couple. Unusually, they had few connections to Swyndel's merchant families, but were heavily involved in what Taelil called 'pure politics'. Specifically, she was the leader of a growing anti-discrimination movement.
 
"Things in the city aren't as bad as they are out in the wilderness," she said. "But people like us -" she indicated Marius, herself and me "-still face prejudice every day. At best, we're stared at and fetishised, and struggle to get good jobs. At worst, there are still small radical groups that see us as evil or unholy. Proportionally, we're the species most likely to be murdered within the city limits."
 
She had a point, I supposed. Not everyone liked the attention being born with horns and a tail drew, and though I was lucky enough to find myself working two vocations that I was both good at and enjoyed, a lot of Tieflings were forced into taking jobs they didn't want, especially ones that no-one else was willing to do, that often amounted to little more than slavery. I found myself nodding along with her as she spoke, and she invited me to a political rally that was being held in a few weeks time. 
 
The conversation shifted to the other guests when a deep, bass roar cut through the quiet babble filling the air. Marius pointed out the black woman I'd seen in the corridors earlier, but this time, she was accompanied by some kind of Drake; the scaly thing in her arms, I assumed, but its size had been increased to the point where its head, bobbing atop a long, slender neck, stood about a foot above her own.
 
"Thaelia." The baron said. Taelil rolled her eyes and nodded wearily. "She always was a show-off." She added. "I'd like to know how she persuaded Kael'arathin to come down from his mountain, though."
 
"That's a dragon?" I spluttered. 
 
"Hmm? Oh, yes. He's claimed territory in the Broken Spine mountains." Taelil said. "Keeps himself to himself, mostly. One can only guess what she did to get him to come, as her guest, of all things."
 
"Well, perhaps she'll give us a demonstration later." Marius chuckled. Part of me wondered what he meant by that, but it was lost amidst the pleasant shivers his voice sent down my spine.
 
We spent a pleasant hour together, circling the room as a little group, conversing with other couples and picking at the tables of food that had been laid out. I was rather gratified to see that I wasn't the only one dumbstruck by Marius, and that he was attracting his share of wandering hands as well, from men and women alike. As the evening went on, they seemed to grow steadily more daring and eager; twice, I saw something moving under Marius' loincloth that could only have been a hand grasping his ****, and the fingers groping at my behind seemed to grow closer and closer to my slit as the time wound towards midnight. My bare skin, already glistening with the scented oils rubbed into it, now shone with a thin sheen of sweat, the constant stimulation had left me uncomfortably wet and aroused. Close to midnight, Cathwar and myself parted from the other two Tieflings and retired to the balcony, with a promise to meet up again before the end of the night.
 
We settled against the bannister with a glass of wine each, the baron's other arm wrapping around my waist so he could settle his hand on my backside. The night air was cool against my skin, and we passed a few minutes in relaxed silence, either staring out into the darkness or watching the other couples still circling within the hall or taking a similar breather outside with us. The baron had undone the top few buttons of his shirt, and I could see many of the couples still within were peeling off into small groups and similarly loosening their attire.
 
A smile played over my face as the baron shifted his grip on my ass, massaging the tight, red flesh as he played with the stem of his glass.
 
"This isn't just a party, is it?" I asked. Through the windows, I saw Thaelia and Kael'arathin walking past, followed by a gaggle of young women whispering and pointing at something large and pink swinging between the dragon's hind legs.
 
"Ah. Realization dawns." The baron replied. He drained his glass, raised it to me, and passed it off to one of the circling flunkies. "What tipped you off?"
 
"The groping was a pretty big hint." I said. "I think the only bits of me that haven't been touched so far tonight are the ones you paid for."
 
"I didn't hear you complaining. In fact, I distinctly remember you lifting your skirts up to give them better access." 
 
Through in the main hall, I watched as two young men disrobed themselves, baring their erections for the pleasure of the Kobold lady I'd met earlier. With no lips to suck with, she worked them with her tongue, wrapping it around their tools and sliding it up and down, her mouth hanging open as if eager for their seed. An older woman lay atop the bar, drizzling fine wine over her slit as her partner bent to drink it out of her. 
 
"Oh, really?" I replied, giving Cathwar a sly look. I turned and leaned out over the bannister, using my tail to swipe aside my rear loincloth. The breeze kissed my backside and the sensitive flesh of my *****, wet and exposed for all to see. "Like this, you mean?"
 
Several of the other couples out on the balcony were watching us with interest. One man had even pulled his **** out and started stroking himself, despite the jealous look his guest shot him. I waggled my narrow hips from side to side.
 
"Better hurry, sir." I said. "Or I think the young gentleman over there's going to beat you to it."
 
"Don't rush me, girl, I'm old." He laughed, moving around behind me. I pushed my ass out a little more, then let out a long groan of release as the baron's tongue started exploring my wet folds. Having spent so much time being touched and teased by the wandering hands of the party, the feeling of someone else's tongue lapping away at my slit was divine. I ground my hips backwards as he made his way over my labia and down to my clit, teasing the sensitive nub with the tip of his tongue before sliding back up. 
 
"Oh, shit." I gasped. The couple that had been watching me earlier were going at it now; I suppose the girl couldn't stand the idea that her partner was more interested in me than her. She had dropped to her knees and, but the thick sucking noises coming from her, I guessed she was doing her best to deepthroat him. I arched my tail higher as the baron made his way up past my tight pucker, moving relentlessly towards my tailspot even as he slid first one, then two fingers into my quivering heat, drawing a needy cry from my throat. His fingers worked in and out of my slit, the soft, wet noise being drowned out by the enthusiastic slurping coming from the other pair as I felt myself beginning to coast towards a long-overdue orgasm. Cathwar worked my tail with long, luxurious sweeps of his tongue, and once he'd found the patch of soft skin that set me wriggling and squealing with every touch, set to work lashing mercilessly back and forth across it. 
 
"I think you're getting close, my dear." He purred. I made a vague noise of assent, which steadily rose in pitch as he hooked his fingers into my g-spot, the sudden extra stimulation forcing a sudden shriek of release from me as I came. My tail twitched, dropping the length of silk it had been holding, which floated down to rest over the baron's head as I flopped forwards to catch my breath. Cathwar's hand wrapping around my horn and gently pulling me back up dragged me back to my senses. Time for the main event, then, I thought, my forked tongue flickering over my lips as the baron pulled his clothes off. I made no move to help him, but leaned back against the balcony, pushing my front loincloth aside and spreading my wet lips for him to see. 
 
"Have you decided how you want me, sir?" I purred, slinking forwards as he stripped off the last of his clothing. He was reasonably in shape for someone of his age, and I pressed my hands against his bare chest, letting him feel my claws just pricking his skin.
 
"On top." He replied, pushing closer to me, making the chains around my chest rattle. "I want you to be able to look at you."
 
Well, that suited me just fine. I moved my hands up to his shoulders and gently pushed, easing him down to the ground and sinking on top of him until my wet cunt rested against his groin. I could feel his **** settling between my buttocks and ground myself back and forth, rubbing my sensitive folds against his body and leaving a slick patch of my wetness to glisten in the starlight. Cathwar shifted between my thighs, trying to wriggle himself into a position where he could slip into me, but I shifted my grip back to his chest to keep him still. I might have been paid for, but the baron had given me control - most of my clients prefer topping, so I wasn't going to waste the chance to set the pace for once. The other couple were already going at it; the woman had been bent over the bannister, hanging on for dear life as her partner slammed his hips into her. He had a nice ass. I reached out and slapped it, laughing wickedly at his yelp of surprise.
 
"**** her harder, gorgeous." I called out, lifting myself up, brushing my silks out of the way and spreading my lips as the baron got his **** into position against my entrance. My ***** was already slick and ready for him, and his head slipped easily inside me. Placing my hands on his chest, I slowly lowered myself onto him, savoring every inch as it slipped inside my body. The baron sighed in satisfaction, his own hands reaching up to *** my ******* as we coupled. I felt his fingers sliding under the little metal caps that hid my nipples from view as I began to work him, first grinding my hips back and forth on his ****, then sliding up and down his length when I wanted to feel his penetration. Cathwar shifted and gasped beneath me, mauling my ******* as I worked him, wet strings of my arousal clinging to my thighs whenever I rocked my hips up the length of his shaft. Sweat beaded on my skin, hot in the cool night's air, and my own breathing grew deeper and heavier as I ****** him. He thrust upwards after me, but it seemed half-hearted; an old man's attempts at keeping up with someone far younger than him.
 
The couple off to my side cried out in unison, their voices merging together to cut through the night air. I could see her legs trembling and grinned; at least one of us was getting a good seeing to. To my surprise, though, her partner pulled out of her and offered himself to me, his tool still sticky with his seed and his partner's wetness.
 
"She doesn't like using her mouth." He shrugged. I licked my lips and looked up at him, the baron's **** still lodged in my heat. 
 
"Her loss." I said, sucking him into my mouth. The taste of his seed, mixed with the tang of his partner's own fluids washed over me as I cleaned his softening tool, even squeezing a small drop of fresh come from his wilting length before he pulled himself free. Beneath me, I heard Cathwar gasp and suddenly buck upwards, a rush of liquid warmth telling me that he'd came himself. He muttered an apology and flopped backwards, staring sullenly off into the sky. 
 
Well, I'd be a liar if I said I wasn't disappointed. He was far from the best partner I'd had, but the combination of his **** grinding back and forth and the way he'd worked my ******* had still rekindled my arousal; I was left tingling and needy, missing the feeling of his hardness working inside me. I slid off him, a trail of his seed clinging to the inside of my leg as his deflating length flopped against his body, and settled down next to him. 
 
"I wish I could say that's never happened before." He sighed, rubbing his forehead. "I'm getting too old for this. I don't suppose you finished, did you?"
 
I shook my head. "It doesn't matter. I'm here for your pleasure, and you've got me for the whole night, remember?" My fingers wandered up his chest, trying to caress some life back into him. "We can go again in a bit if you want. Or we could go somewhere more private? Back to your room, maybe?" I kissed his cheek. Our coupling hadn't just left me physically frustrated, but I felt like I'd failed somehow - I'd gotten him off, but I hadn't satisfied him, and that irritated me. "We can spend the rest of the night together, if you want. Just, I don't know...experiment. Find out what works?"
 
"I'd love to. I really would. But..." Cathwar trailed off and shook his head. He looked old, then - older than he'd looked when I first met him, old and tired and frustrated that he couldn't do anything about it. Looking at him again, I felt, for a moment, the sudden urge to push him away. His age hadn't bothered me at first, but just for that one heartbeat, he struck me as singularly loathsome - like a specter of death, a reminder that one day I'd be just as broken and exhausted as him, forever chasing after the passion and energy of youth. It was just there for a second before fading, but perhaps he saw it, because he gave me a sad smile. "No, I think I'm done for now. Go and have some fun. I'll find you if I feel up to having another go."
 
He pulled away from me and began dressing himself, pulling his shirt back over his narrow shoulders. The other couple had sloped off back into the main room, either because they had finished their little escapade or because they wanted to give us some privacy. "Well...I mean, if you're sure..." I said.
 
"Really. I'll be fine." Cathwar said. He turned and patted me on the thigh. "Think of it as a chance to collect your perks."
 
I lingered for a few seconds longer, still feeling like I'd let him down, before quietly picking myself up and slipping back into the main hall. The air was intoxicating - thick with the smells of sweat, of ***, and of the perfumed incense the servants had brought out to try and mask the first two. They picked their way through the room, stepping daintily over the heaving, bucking bodies scattered over the floors and tables, setting up incense and putting out bowls of contraceptive Illithil leaves for the women. I plucked a few as I wandered back in, chewing on them and rearranging the chains and disks across my chest where the baron's hands had knocked them askew.
 
It was all a bit overwhelming. Now, I'm hardly little miss pure-and-innocent, but I'd never seen so many people having *** in the same place. It was so wanton, so utterly shameless - it looked like the guests hadn't just been chosen for their beauty or exoticism, but for their sexual appetite as well, and I wondered how many of them were there on another man or woman's coin like I was. A few people called out invitations as I passed them by, which I politely brushed off, and a few more reached out to me, which I reluctantly brushed past. Part of me - a very wet, stimulated part of me - just wanted to slide into the nearest pile of bodies and see where things went, but I pushed the urge down. Perks, the baron had said, and I got the feeling he hadn't just meant the chance to participate in an orgy. 
 
I began to circle the room, casting a predatory eye over the crowds. Anyone who already had a partner was immediately discounted, as were most of the people I remembered as having been introduced as guests, like myself. Someone powerful, someone who would want me enough that I could wring something out of them in exchange. Eventually, my eyes settled upon Brakkith. The Orc had flopped down in a large chair by the bar, one hand resting atop his prodigious belly, the other clutching a heavy flagon of ale. Certainly not my type - I prefer my men young, neat, and trim - but there was something appealing about the thick, broad bands of muscle I could see flexing under his grey-green skin. He had been brought by another guy, but by the way he'd looked at me earlier, I didn't think he was too fussy about little things like gender. And, I remembered, he certainly had connections that might be useful to me.
 
Orcs. Now, Orcs are funny. They only just joined society a century or so ago, and their culture was still defined by the two laws that had ruled them all throughout history; that the weak must be ruled by the strong, but that the strong have a duty to care for the weak. If I came on too hard, if I presented myself as an equal, I'd risk Brakkith seeing me as something to be knocked into submission. But if I let him think of me as a servant, as an underling, then he might see himself as duty-bound to provide for me.
 
Taking a moment to clean up the worst of the baron's load, I slunk towards the Orc. My tail lashed in time with my swaying hips, the movement of the silks and chains wrapping my body only adding to the effect. As I wound my way closer, I saw that his furry loincloth had been pulled aside, his half-hard **** flopping against his thigh and glistening with someone else's wetness. Still, it twitched as soon as he set eyes on me, and I had to fight to keep a sly grin crossing my face at that. 
 
"Huh. Ireela, was it?" The Orc grunted as I approached, raising his flagon in greeting. "Cathwar not missing you?"
 
"Oh, he's finished with me for the moment. He's given me leave to," I let my eyes obviously wander up and down Brakkith's body, over the swell of his gut, the hard bands of muscle and the thick piece of meat hanging between his legs. But I kept my hands clasped behind my back, and when our eyes met, I batted my eyelashes at him, like a little girl. "Enjoy myself." I finished. The Orc gave out a thick, rolling chuckle, full of guttural good humor.
 
"Hah. The old boy's struggling to keep up!" Brakkith patted his belly. "That's humans for you. I'm gettin' old and runnin' to fat, but I've still got more stamina than a dozen of you pinkskins put together."
 
I drifted forwards, letting my bare thigh brush up against the Orc's hairy leg, the barest touch of skin contact.
 
"Or..." He gave me another look, and I could see the hunger in his eyes. The urge to possess, to conquer; to make me his. Brakkith was one of the last of a dying breed. More and more Orcs were being born 'soft'; modern, urbanized, wanting families and careers rather than a life spent fighting and raiding. I shifted my shoulders, rolling them back to push my chest out, making the delicate golden chains rattle. "Or, redskins, or pretty elven paleskins, or whatever. You're all weak." There was no real malice in his words; to him, it was a description, not an insult. "Good people, though."
 
I was about to open my mouth when Brakkith spoke again.
 
"Ireela," he said. "You're staring at my ****."
 
Damn. Was I? I supposed I must have been. I had hoped to let things burn a little slower and let him make the first move. I floundered for a moment, then did my best to recover the situation. Reaching out, I wrapped my slender fingers around his thick, blunt head, gently tickling the underside of the fleshy bulb.
 
"It's a very nice ****." I whispered, looking coyly up at him. I could feel strings of precome already gathering between my fingers. While the rumor that all Orcs have huge cocks isn't entirely true, they are known - among those of us who need to know these things - for their heavy ejaculations. When they come, they come a lot, and by the size of the balls I saw hanging between Brakkith's legs, he was going to have quite the load for me. My mouth watered at the thought.
 
Brakkith grunted another laugh and leaned back, spreading his legs a little. "And you've got a very pretty mouth. Maybe the two of 'em should get acquainted?"
 
My forked tongue flickered over my lips. Gods, I wanted him. Still hot and aroused from Cathwar, I just wanted the big Orc to shove me forwards, to drive himself into me. I could imagine how it would feel - overpowering, overwhelming, using his bulk and strength to crush me between the floor and the thick, soft embrace of his body. I felt my knees go weak and a thin, needy whine slip out of my mouth, but I held myself in check. Instead, I pushed forwards, sliding my hand, slick with his pre, down his length and then back up again.
 
"Maybe." I crooned, running my other hand through the thick, curly hair across his belly. "Or maybe not. There's plenty of other men in here who'd say the same." I batted my eyelashes at him. "What do you have for me that they don't?"
 
Well, a load big enough to feed a family, for one thing. Brakkith groaned under my caresses, and I felt another pulse of precome oozing out against my wrist. 
 
"You've got some nerve, girl." He said. "From the way you were starin', you should be payin' me, not the other way around." My fingers slid back up his shaft, tips softly tracing circles around the base of the head.
 
"Oh, I don't want money." I replied. Which was a lie. But he represented something far more valuable. "I just want a promise. That if you've got some extra work going, if you ever need an extra pair of hands...you'll come to me first. That's all."
 
"We talkin' merc work, or..." Another low grunt slipped from the Orc's throat. "...or this sort of work?"
 
I gave him a wide smile, then sunk to my knees before him, leaning against his thick, elephantine leg and wrapping my tail around myself. His **** bobbed level with my face, thick, slick with precome and oh, so very hard. And there, just before I leaned forwards to suck him into my mouth, I called up - softly, just loud enough that he could hear over the background of moaning and slapping flesh, one word. "Yes."
 
He was big. Not as big as Moundar, the huge Dragonborn I'd once had, but big enough that my jaw twinged in pain as I took him into my mouth. I had to work to stop my teeth from digging into his sensitive flesh, but the thick layer of precome already smeared over his **** helped as I eased it into my mouth. He tasted bitter, and as I slowly sucked him down towards the base of his shaft, his thick, musky scent filled my nose. I made it halfway down, working the length with my tongue all the way, before I had to pull back to breath. Now wet with my saliva and his precome, Brakkith's **** slipped free of my mouth, leaving me panting. 
 
"Too much for you, girl?" The Orc laughed. I couldn't actually see his face from where I was sitting; the curve of his belly blocked him from view. There was just me, alone in the prison formed by his gut and his legs, alone with his ****. I dived back in without reply, licking and kissing my way down, making sure he was as wet as possible before my next attempt. Holding the base of his **** in one hand, I cradled his balls with the other, rolling them back and forth and teasing my fingers through the thick curls of hair.
 
Brakkith let out a heavy sigh as I swallowed him again. "Ah, that's it. There we go..." he muttered, as much to himself as to me as my head bobbed up and down on the thick, hot length of meat. Occasionally his balls would contract and I'd feel a thick slug of precome flowing into my mouth, easily the volume of a human's full load. Each time, I thought he'd come for good, and each time, I found myself getting wetter with anticipation. Something about a man's seed had become a huge turn-on for me. It felt like a reward - a physical sign of his satisfaction and the pleasure I'd give him. Seeing that white, pearly sheen over my **** at the end of a session had become almost as satisfying as the *** beforehand, while the feeling of a guy depositing a couple of measly drops on my back didn't exactly endear me to servicing him again.
 
"I miss this. Bein' serviced by an eager young whore." Brakkith's voice echoed down. "Back when Orcs were Orcs, and no-one would begrudge a chief his harem. You'd fit right in, with that outfit." He sighed, no doubt imagining conquests - sexual and otherwise - long past. I didn't begrudge him his fantasy. Maybe it was just the hot ache of arousal that had been left burning in me ever since the Baron had his way with me doing things to my head, but there was something strangely appealing about it. I knew, of course, that slavery was slavery, even if it was comfortable, decadent slavery, but...I glanced down, looking over the length of my body; the smooth, crimson skin, shining with sweat and perfumed oils, chased with gold and silk, and now spattered with the drips of Brakkith's pre that had escaped my hungry mouth. It was only right that people should see it as a thing to be possessed.
 
His balls twitched, though this time, there was no rush of fluid in my mouth. They jerked again and I redoubled my efforts, sucking eagerly at him as he reached his peak. I'd had Orcs before, and knew what to expect. It just remained to be seen how Brakkith would want me to handle his load.
 
"Gonna come soon." He grunted. "You keep it all in your mouth, y'hear? Don't spit it, don't swallow it. Just hold it there." Unable to speak around the thick, pulsing length of green meat crammed between my lips, I made a noise to show I'd heard and understood, frantically swallowing the pre that was already in my mouth.
 
It was a good thing I had, too. Brakkith gave one last, heavy sigh and came, flooding my mouth with his thick, pungent seed. I tipped my head back and tried to close off my throat as best I could as his hot come poured forth, slapping against the room of my mouth and flowing into every little space not taken up by his ****. I drew back his length, inch by inch, freeing up more space as another jet of the slimy fluid slapped against the roof of my mouth. And so it went, Brakkith filling my mouth with seed even as I emptied it of ****, until the blunt head popped free of my mouth. I quickly pursed my lips, holding his load in my mouth. Brakkith reached down, grabbing one of my horns and pulling me upright. He stood as well, tipping my head back and taking hold of my chin.
 
"Open." He grunted, gently pulling my chin down. I let my jaw fall open, letting him see the lake of come he'd dumped into my mouth. I could feel it swirling around, thick and glutinous, as I lashed my tongue back and forth for him. Brakkith made an amused noise, then pushed my mouth closed again.
 
"Swallow." He said. I braced myself, tipped my head as far back as it could go, and - 
 
There was a thick, loud gulp. I leaned forwards again and opened my mouth, showing the Orc how every drop - with the exception of some pearly strings clinging to my lips - had gone. I could feel the liquid warmth of it sliding down into my belly, leaving nothing but the aftertaste. Which, to be honest, was pretty foul.
 
"Thank you, sir." I pouted, pushing myself against him, crushing my ******* against his hairy, muscular chest. "May I have another?"
 
Oh, he liked that. His eyes lit up, and for one moment, I actually thought he was going to conjure up another erection, flop back down in his chair and sit me atop it.
 
"I'm impressed. Last girl who tried that choked gettin' it down." Brakkith said, patting my cheek affectionately. "Tell you what. Give me an address and I'll have some work sent your way. Somethin's been goin' after Clan Krath's livestock and they can't spare the manpower to check it out. Probably just a bear or somethin', but it don't hurt to be careful. Y'think you can handle that?"
 
I clicked my fingers at a servant and motioned for him to bring me a drink to wash away the lingering flavor of Brakkith's seed. "Sure." I said, the coy little-girl voice I'd used earlier vanishing in a heartbeat as the discussion turned towards business. While I'd certainly enjoyed going down on the big Orc, it had largely just been a means to an end, and I was eager to get to the meat - no pun intended - of things. "My partner and I - no, not that sort of partner -" I cut in as the Orc raised an eyebrow - "we deal with stuff like that all the time. There's no chance you've got anything a bit more serious?"
 
"Huh. More cheek." Brakkith said, but it came with another rumbling chuckle. "I might, but I ain't handin' it out until I know you're reliable. Consider that -" he pointed down to his flaccid **** - "yer audition, and this is'll be yer trial run."
 
Hunting down rabid animals wasn't exactly what I'd hoped the Orc would have for me, but I supposed he did have a point, and there was always the chance it would turn out to be something a bit more interesting. We made small talk for a little longer, then toasted our new business arrangement - Brakkith's heavy flagon almost bludgeoning the delicate, fluted wine glass out of my hand - and broke up, the Orc wandering off to look for his patron. As soon as his back was turned, I stuck my tongue out and chugged the rest of my drink in a most unladylike fashion, doing my best to drown his lingering aftertaste. 
 
"Too much red meat, Brak." I muttered to myself, wiping my lips. And then, after a moment's consideration, I collected a few napkins to wipe my legs and other lips. The burning, pounding heat between my thighs was almost unbearable, and even the touch of the soft cloth against my sticky nethers was enough to draw a throaty gasp from my throat. I screwed the damp napkin up and threw it aside. Something about the idea of getting myself off, alone, in the middle of an orgy seemed almost offensive, no matter how over-stimulated I was. 
 
I went back to circling, searching the crowd for a suitable partner. Here and there, hands would reach up, clutching and caressing me as I slid past, enticing me into joining them. I fed a young man grapes, plucked one by one from the vine, as a brother and sister took turns riding his ****. I knelt behind a woman as she went down on a guy for the first time, my ******* crushed against her back as I whispered instructions into her ear and dipped my fingers into her cunt. I watched as Thaelia straddled the Dragon Kael'arathin's hulking **** like a horse and rode up and down the weirdly curved length, the fleshy thorns plucking at her clit with each passage of her ebony thighs, until the Dragon let out a bellow that silenced the hall and ejaculated enough steaming fluid to cover the three women who had been writhing in his shadow and begging for the great drake's benediction. I passed all these things and more, each time painfully tempted to join in, but each time snatched away by some new sight. Now and then, I even saw the Baron across the hall - we made eye contact, and we waved to each other, but he made no move to come over to me. 
 
As I wandered, I noticed that a small group of men had begun to fall into step behind me. Not obtrusively close, but it was obvious they were unwilling to let me out of their sight. I made it a game; slipping through the crowds, disappearing into a pack of standing bodies, but letting my tail slither teasingly in my wake, seeing if they could keep up. They could have had almost any woman in the hall, yet the stuck to me, their eyes eager whenever I deigned to look back at them. In retrospect, it really shouldn't have taken me so long to realize why they were so determined to have me; what was the one thing I had, that only one other woman present shared? 
 
Species. Taelil was one of the few people who seemed reluctant to participate in the night's festivities. She certainly wasn't ashamed or offended, but she did little more than watch as Marius had his way with whichever lucky man or woman fell under his shadow. It wasn't hard to spot her - her skin wasn't as bright as mine, but her tall, slender horns were easily noticed - and while several men and women propositioned her, she always politely turned them away. That made me the only accessible Tiefling in the room, and as I'd learned at the Second Circle, that sort of rarity is a draw in of itself for many men. It would have been so easy to slow my pace so they could catch me, and sink back into their waiting arms, but I resisted. Just for a little longer, I told myself. I wanted them, but I could get what I wanted from any other man in the hall. They, on the other hand...
 
They wanted me. Me, above all others. A piece of nothing from some farming village most of them had never visited. Because I was young, pretty, and exotic. I chewed at my lip, suppressing the urge to grin madly, as I made my way over to one of the tables. Acquiring a stylus and a bit of paper from a rather confused servant, I made my way over the one of the tables, the little group of men still tailing me. I had power over them - just like I had power over my clients at the Circle. The power to name my price, to dangle myself in front of them like a living trophy auctioned to the highest bidder, like a goddess demanding a tithe from her followers. They watched as I upended a bowl of fruit, set the empty piece of silverware down by the end of the table, then scrawled "6g" on the paper and set it up next to the bowl. Just like the fantasy I'd had earlier in the corridors.
 
Then, I spread my legs, bent over, gripped the far end of the table in my hands, and waited. The thought occurred as the first few seconds ticked slowly by. If nothing happened, if they decided I wasn't worth all that after all, I was going to be left looking very, very stupid. And true enough, there were a few angry mutters from behind me, and the sound of a pair or two of footsteps retreating in another direction. My heart fluttered anxiously against my breastbone, and when the first clatter of gold landing in the bowl echoed from behind me, I let out a breath I didn't know I'd been holding.
 
I felt a pair of hands on my ass. Not grabbing or squeezing; just resting on the swell of my buttocks. At length, they traveled upwards, sliding across the gold band surrounding my hips and up the length of my torso, following the curve of my chest until they slipped beneath the delicate chains around my chest and cradled my small *******. Then they squeezed, gently, as if testing the quality of the flesh that had just been bought.
 
"Is everything to your liking, sire?" I whispered, my voice hoarse and throaty with lust. I could feel something hot and hard bumping against my thighs.
 
"Oh, yes. I do think so." Came the return voice. It was high for a man, a little nasal. I didn't care. I had his money, and I was - hopefully - going to get ****** by him in a second. At that moment, that was all I cared about.
 
The hands vanished, to be replaced with the silken sensation of my loincloth being pulled out of the way. There as a quiet chorus of murmurs from behind me, mostly to the tune of how wet and ready I was, along with a few far less tasteful comments. The first man didn't bother working me with his tongue or fingers - he pulled my hips down a little, into a position he found more comfortable, and slid straight in.
 
The feeling was divine. After spending so long feeling the hollow ache of my need, the sensation of my nameless, faceless client sliding into me at long last was enough to drive me into a small, sharp orgasm. I gasped and shuddered, clenching up for a moment, riding out the waves until I was left with the solid, comfortable feeling of fullness that a good penetration provides. 
 
"I think she likes it." Some witless individual behind me sniggered.
 
"Of- oh, uh," I started, cut off as the first man began to **** me with quick, shallow strokes, reducing what I'd hoped to be a sharp bit of snark to a stammering, breathy pant. "-course I like it. I wouldn't, ah, be doing this if, if I didn't."
 
The first man's pace increased, his **** pistoning in and out of me with little regard given to my own satisfaction, until I felt him pull out of me and spray his warm seed up my back. I cleared my throat as he stepped away and, in a clear voice, called out "next!"
 
Another clatter of gold. Another pair of hands on my body. Another heartbeat of breathless anticipation as the second man eases himself into me. He's bigger than the third and I spread my legs a little wider as his **** slots home, my body eating him up, inch by inch, until I feel his skin flush against my backside. My tail snaked up his body, wrapping around his torso and pulling him in even tighter, locking us together, drawing out those first, wonderful moments of union for as long as possible. 
 
This one ***** me hard and deep. He grabs one of my horns in one hand, a fistful of hair in the other, and pulls me up - I relinquish my grip on the table, arching my back as he hauls me upwards. His head appears over my shoulder - heavily set, ruddy from drink, with a thick, black beard - and he twists me towards him, forcing his tongue into my mouth in a fierce kiss even as he slaps wetly against me below, each impact shooting delightful sparks through my body even as he pulls at my hair. Then, as roughly as he pulled me up, he pushes me back down, forcing my head against the table as he relentlessly hammers away at my body. The coins in the bowl behind me jingle in time with his thrusts until he pulls and twists at my hair, the combination of sudden pain and the pleasure he's giving me driving me into another shaking, gasping orgasm even as he empties himself into my body. 
 
I feel a third pair of hands on me almost as soon as the second has pulled himself out of me. Pushing myself back up into position, I growl and swat him away with a powerful blow from my tail, drawing laughter from the group behind me.
 
"Come on, Tarkii, pay the lady!" Someone calls, followed by a riot of hoots and jeers and a pair of retreating footsteps that, I assume, are the cheapskate making a swift exit.
 
And so it went. It became a rhythm; the clatter of money entering the bowl, the feeling of my body being explored by hands and, when I was lucky, tongues, the experience of being ******, and the final rush of heat in me or on me as they ejaculated. The Baron visited me at least once, paying his dues just like the others, then sitting back with a drink to watch with an expression of satisfaction on his old face. Sometimes I'd come, sometimes I wouldn't; as time went on, I drifted into a dreamy haze, the afterglow of one orgasm coasting into the peaks and waves of another, kept alive by the touching, licking, kissing and thrusting of each partner as they came and went. At one point, someone asked how much my mouth cost; I named a number, I can't remember what, and began to suckle on the **** that was presented to me as soon as I heard the rattle of money. I couldn't help but remember, even through the pink clouds of indulgence seeping through my mind, how I'd felt after donning the Baron's outfit for the first time; beautiful and desirable, something to be wanted, coveted, lusted after and fought over. Just as the layers of gold and silk stripped away layers of clothing and idealized what remained, they seemed to strip away elements of my personality, rendering me down to the basest and most animalistic of levels - greedy, lustful, even manipulative - but transformed and elevated them into something with a sort of single-minded purity that part of me, looking on through the bliss, found deeply unsettling. But soon enough, even that part of me was subsumed, or fell silent, lost amidst the pounding of flesh.
 
"Look at her. Beautiful, isn't she?"
 
I blinked and groaned, dragged back to reality as a new voice cut through the haze. I found myself lying atop the table on my back, my tail squashed uncomfortably beneath me. I groaned and sat upright, dislodging a large piece of Lylith fruit that someone had stabbed onto my horn, presumably so they could eat it while ******* me, leaving a trail of sweet, blue juice to trickle down my forehead. My skin was streaked with sweat and come, my hair hanging in lank, tangled knots, and my legs wobbled drunkenly as I hopped off the table and tried to balance. For the first time that night, I regretted something about the way my outfit had been designed; weak and tired as I was, my attempt at balancing on the high heels worked into my footwear resulted in me being pitched, rather inelegantly, onto my ass.
 
A pair of large, strong hands gently gripped me under my arms and pulled me back to my feet. I turned, my mind still reeling from what had happened, and found myself staring into Marius' warm, handsome face. Even after what I'd just been through, the sight of him still elicited a reaction from me, though the little flare of arousal was lost amidst the numb ache coming from my lower quarters. It almost felt like I'd gone another round with the Dragonborn. 
 
The hall was emptying now. People were dressing themselves as best they could and finding their original partners, slipping off in pairs or little groups as, through the great windows at the far end of the hall, the first rays of sunlight began to creep over the horizon. I yawned and rubbed at my eyes.
 
"What happened?" I muttered, though by the state I was in, I could make a damn good guess. I plucked at my outfit as I waited for the other Tiefling's reply, pulling the nipple caps back into place and rearranging the silken loincloths.
 
"You got a little carried away, I fear." Taelil said. She stood a little behind her partner. While Marius seemed almost amused, Taelil's face was set in a small frown. She brushed past Marius and began circling around me, as if looking for any signs of injury. "Too much to drink, probably. You had an awful lot of the wine, and it's stronger than you'd think."
 
"Hush, love." Marius rumbled, stroking my cheek. "Her seducer aspect came fully to the fore, that's all. It's nothing to be ashamed of." His last comment was aimed at me. "Like I said; you were beautiful. You took everyone who came to you, man and woman, without fear or complaint, until consciousness fled. We felt it best to let you sleep."
 
I didn't feel beautiful, and to my surprise, I actually did feel a little ashamed at having lost control of the situation so badly. It might seem like an odd thing, considering my line of work, but when I sleep with a client, I pride myself on trying to make the encounter at least somewhat intimate. A personal touch, if you like. The sort of faceless, anonymous ******* I'd put myself through not a few hours ago felt cheap and nasty by comparison. I drifted out of Marius' gentle grasp, stepping towards the bowl I'd set up to collect payment with a growing feeling of dread. And there it was; full almost to the brim, the coins glittering softly in the ruddy light of dawn.
 
One of the men had blown his load across them. I don't know why, but something about the sight of that upset me. I tore my eyes away, lingering on the edge of tears.
 
Too far. I'd let things go too far. I licked my lips and instantly regretted it, tasting the seed that had dried there. I felt used, almost, even though I knew that there was no-one to blame for what had happened but myself.
 
"What - what happened to the Baron?" I mumbled, looking around the hall. "Where's Cathwar?"
 
"Gone." Taelil replied. "He needed to sleep after the night's festivities, but he told me that he was more than satisfied with your performance, and that the clothes were yours to keep. Though," she looked at me, her lips pursed, as if she could read my thoughts. "Perhaps right now, you'd prefer something that covers a little more?"
 
I nodded dumbly and let the other two Tieflings lead me away. Though, I will admit, not before I collected the bowl full of money. Coin is coin, and even in my rattled state of mind, I wasn't going to let it go to waste.
 
The pair of them took me back to the dressing room I'd shared with Caelia the day before. There, they washed me and dried me, wiping away the stains of the previous night with expensive soaps and soft, fresh towels, then helped me dress. My clothes, it turned out, had been similarly cleaned, and the familiar feeling of the black dress on my skin helped a bit of the life back into me. Yes, I'd made a mistake. Yes, I'd gone too far, and yes, I was probably going to feel like shit for a while as a result. But that was fine - I mean, I was nineteen, and I defy you to find anyone who hasn't done something they regret at that age. It wasn't like it was the end of the world. I'd take a bit of a break from working the Second Circle, and with the money I'd made tonight I could easily afford it, and ease myself back in once I was feeling up to it. 
 
Once I was ready, and the gold-and-silk outfit had been boxed up and presented to me, Taelil and Marius walked me back through the twining corridors of the Spire, until we emerged through the main gate. Taelil helped me up into a waiting carriage, but as she did so, I felt the other Tiefling pushing a bit of paper into my hand. She gave me a knowing look and a strangle half-smile, but before I could open my mouth, the carriage lurched forwards and rattled off down the street. With a heavy sigh, I sank back into the thick upholstery and unwrapped the note. On it, was a single line, and an address.
 
Ireela. I may have some work for you re. my political interests. Come to my tower when you're ready. T.
 
Two job offers in one day, one of them from a well-connected, respected member of high society? I felt the return of a brief flicker of pride at the thought. Regardless of how I'd gotten there, at that moment, the future seemed pretty good.