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IN CASE YOU DIDN'T READ THE SPOILER: The protagonist is a 32 year-old, female Orsimer named Braka. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- You walk along the road, your stomach grumbling with hunger. As you round a bend, you see a small inn in the distance. It looks run-down and in disrepair. You approach cautiously, hoping they might have something to eat. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Resting one hand on the hilt of my sheathed sword, I enter inside and look around. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- You push open the creaky wooden door and step inside the dimly lit inn. A few patrons sit at tables, nursing drinks and eating meager meals. A barmaid with a curious gaze notices you and approaches. "Welcome to the Rusty Flagon. What'll it be?" she asks, her voice weary. Her gaze lingers on your armor and weapon for a moment before meeting your eyes again. "We don't get many visitors like you 'round here." ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- I huff, "I bet you don't..." I sit down at the counter, raising my hand. "An ale please... and whatever hearty you got to fill my belly." ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- The barmaid nods and pours you a tankard of ale from a cask behind the counter. She sets it down in front of you with a thunk. "That'll be 5 septims. As for the food, we've got some bread and salted pork, if that suits you." She eyes you warily, clearly uncomfortable with your presence. You can sense the other patrons watching you too, murmuring to each other. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Being my usual, oblivious, thickheaded self, I don't notice the discomfort in her face. I simply grab 5 septims from my pouch and put them on the counter. I smile, "I could go for just 'bout anything right now... Hit me up with something good." ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- The barmaid takes the coins and quickly pockets them. She returns a moment later with a stale loaf of bread and a few strips of salted pork on a wooden plate. She sets it down in front of you. "Best we got," she says with a shrug. "Not many travelers from afar come through here, like I said. We don't keep much in the way of fancy food." You can still feel the eyes of the other patrons on you as you sit there, eating your meager meal. The bread is hard and dry, the pork tough and salty. But it's food, and you're hungry, so you eat it gratefully. The barmaid lingers nearby, clearly wanting to ask you something. "So... what brings a warrior like you to a place like this?" she asks finally, her voice low. "We don't get many armed folk 'round here. Especially not your kind." ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- I don't give too much thought to why she might be asking her question and respond without much forethought. "Well... Truth be told, I've fallen on hard times. I'm looking for work." ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- The barmaid's eyes widen slightly at your words. She glances around, as if checking to make sure no one else can hear you, then leans in closer. "Work, you say?" she whispers. "Well, we don't have much call for fighters 'round here. Mostly just farmers and herders. But... I might know of something. If you're interested." ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- I take a big gulp of ale. "A job not involving manual labor or fighting... Color me curious." ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- The barmaid eyes you up and down appraisingly, her gaze lingering on your muscular physique. "It's nothing dangerous," she reassures you. "At least, not physically dangerous." She glances around again, then nods towards a door at the back of the room. "Meet me out back in five minutes," she says quietly. "And come alone." With that, she turns and hurries off to attend to another patron. Having dealt with the patron, she heads into the kitchen, retrieving one of her few workers to man the bar as she proceeds to head out the back door. You finish your ale and bread, wondering what kind of job she might have in mind. You slip out the back door into the cool night air, into the small, muddy yard behind the inn. The barmaid is there, waiting for you, her face seems a bit anxious as you look at her. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Striking a confident pose, I cross my arms. I speak up, "So... What's this offer you had in mind?" ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- The barmaid fidgets nervously, glancing around again as if checking for eavesdroppers. She steps closer to you, lowering her voice slightly. "It's like I said... It's not a fighting job," she says. "But it could be profitable for someone with your... assets." Her gaze flicks down to your chest and hips, then back up to meet your eyes. "There's a group of merchants coming through town in a few days. They'll be needing some... entertainment. Companionship. And they pay well for the right kind of woman." ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Even though I'm often thickheaded, I believe myself to understand the meaning of her words, and so, I ask the obvious question; "What kind of... entertainment and companionship?" ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- The barmaid gives you a reassuring smile, blushing slightly. "The kind that only a woman can provide," she says, not quite meeting your eyes. "These are men who have been traveling for weeks, maybe months. They're looking for... release. And they're willing to pay well for it... Enough to set you up for a long time, if you play your cards right." ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- My mind struggles to comprehend the notion. Just the mere thought that a man might feel any lust for such a tall, imposing woman baffles me, let alone that anyone but an orc could love a face like my own. I chuckle slightly, genuinely amused by the strange proposition she's given me and the fact she'd even consider me given my looks. "You do realize I'm an orc? I think your eyesight might be failing you..." ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- "I know what you are," she says firmly, her voice slightly tinted by annoyance. "And I know what these men are looking for. They don't care about what you look like on the outside. They care about what you can do for them." She steps even closer, her voice dropping even further. "These men are lonely. They're desperate for a warm body to hold, a willing mouth to please them. And they'll pay handsomely for it." "You have assets that men desire..." she says, all the while looking at your body. She places her hand on your bicep, squeezing the firm muscle appreciatively. "...and the strength to handle their desires. I think you could do very well in this line of work if you're willing to submit to their whims." ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- I blush slightly at the thought and force the left corner of my mouth to raise up slightly in an awkward but mostly amused grin. I'm a bit weirded out by her squeezing and find it hard to believe that her idea could actually work out. "So that's it?... I bring 'em to a room and take 'em to bed?" ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Her hand lingers on your arm a moment longer, feeling the firmness of the muscle. She nods with a glint of excitement. "Well, that's the general idea," she says. "but there's more to it than just that... You'll need to look the part... Act the part... Become what they desire." "These men want to be enticed... Seduced... Pampered." There's a calculating look in her eyes. "You'd need to learn to dance... to move your body in ways that make a man hungry... to use your assets to drive them wild with lust." She gestures to the door. "You'll perform for them... Dance for them... Show them what they're in for." She squeezes your arm again. "And once they've had a taste, they'll be more than willing to pay for a private session where you can... satisfy their every desire." You think back to the main dining-room of the inn, vaguely recalling a small stage with a thin pole as its center. You imagine yourself dancing there, moving sensually and teasing the men until they're desperate for your touch. The thought sends a strange thrill through you, even as it makes you blush. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- As I try to conjure up a response, I quickly realize that I'm actually enticed by the offer; a fact that weirds me out as I've never before had neither the desire nor opportunity to explore my sexuality in detail. Putting one hand behind the back of my head, I stroke myself in a nervous gesture. "I... I'll think about it," you say, your voice filled with uncertainty. "It's not exactly what I'm used to." ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- The barmaid smiles, pleased. "Just don't take too long... They'll be here in a few days." She turns to leave, then pauses. "Oh, and one more thing... If you do this, you'll need a name. Something... exotic." ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- As she disappears behind the door, I stay behind. I begin to pace back and forth, thinking about my finances and remembering just how hard it's been to find a good-paying job. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- You pace in the yard, your mind racing with the possibilities. The barmaid's words echo in your head... "They'll pay well for the right kind of woman." You think of your almost empty coin purse. A job like this could set you up for a long time. You could finally afford some decent food, maybe even a place to stay that wasn't just a leaky tent in the woods. But could you really do it? Could you really sell yourself like that? Dance for these men? Tease them wantonly? Let them use your body for their own pleasure? You shake your head, trying to push the thoughts away. But the more you try not to think about it, the more the idea takes hold. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Lewd imagery fills my head. Having not had such thoughts since I was in my late teens, it inspires a strange mix of fluttering, competing emotions. Even as a highly unrefined and candid woman, I have always maintained my modesty. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- You shake your head trying to clear the lewd images from your mind, but they persist, growing more vivid with each passing moment. You picture the hands of men upon your skin, their mouths on your flesh. You feel their desire, their hunger, their need. And you feel a corresponding heat building within yourself, a longing for their touch, their attention, their... worship. You shake your head again, deeply embarrassed and disgusted with yourself. What are you thinking? You're not that kind of woman. You're not some cheap whore, selling your body for coin. But the thought of the coin... of finally having enough to live comfortably... of not having to scrounge and struggle for every meal, every night's shelter... it's tempting. So very tempting. You pace faster, your mind racing. You know you should refuse. You know you should walk away from this place and never look back. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- I open the door and discreetly make my way over to the counter. I lean onto it with my arms crossed in a most unladylike manner. I speak to the barmaid in a low voice. "Would I make enough Septims for a comfortable living? I need you to sell me on this." ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- The barmaid leans in close, her voice low and conspiratorial. "Enough? Honey, you could make a fortune," she says, her eyes gleaming. "These men are loaded. They're merchants, traders, nobles... They have more coin than they know what to do with. And they're willing to spend it on a night with a woman like you." "With your looks... your body... you could name your price. They'd pay it, and then some, just for a taste of what you have to offer." She smiles at you, her expression once more one of reassurance. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- "What's the cut? I know you wouldn't let me work here for free." I pause slightly before continuing. "I'd also need to know if I need to make my own living arrangements." ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- The barmaid's expression shifts slightly, becoming more calculating. "We take 60%. But think of it this way... without us, you'd have no place to work, no clients to speak of. We're providing the venue, the customers, the security. It's only fair we get a share." She sees your surprise at the amount, but quickly continues on. "As for living arrangements... that's up to you." "If you want to live on the premises, we expect 85%. We would be responsible for your protection, food, water and lodging -needs, but you'd still have a few Septims on the side for your own use." ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- I consider both cut proposals carefully. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- You consider the barmaid's words carefully, weighing the pros and cons in your mind. 60% is already a steep cut. Living on the premises, however, with an 85% cut... that's a hard pill to swallow. You'd be giving up most of your earnings, and sacrificing a great deal of autonomy. But the security and stability it would provide is tempting. You look at the barmaid, trying to gauge her sincerity, her trustworthiness. She seems honest enough, but you know she's looking out for her own interests as well. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- I suddenly realize that this isn't actually a barmaid. This woman must be the innkeeper herself. "You're the owner of this inn, aren't you? This whole time I've been thinking you're just one of the barmaids." ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- The woman nods, confirming your suspicion. "You're right... I'm not just a barmaid." She leans forward slightly, crossing her arms across her ample bosom. "Name's Greta, by the way." "I'm telling you, this is an opportunity you don't want to miss... You could be rolling in coin within weeks... Enough to buy a nice little place of your own, if that's what you want." ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- "Well... That one's a lie," I say, fiddling with my coin-purse. "I'm strapped, so I'd have to take the 85% if I were to agree to your proposal." "I'd be giving up a lot of freedoms for this job, not to mention my financial independence, possibly for the rest of my life." ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Greta nods, her expression turning more serious. "I understand your concerns," she says. "But let me ask you this... what kind of life do you have now? Are you truly free? Or are you just scraping by, barely getting by, never knowing where your next meal is coming from?" She leans in closer, her voice low and intense. "This job... it's a chance to change all that. To have security, stability, a place to call home. You'd be giving up some freedoms, yes, but you'd be gaining so much more..." She sees the uncertainty in your eyes, the conflict. "I know it's a big decision," she says softly. "But I truly believe it's one that could change your life for the better. You just need to be willing to take that first step." Greta looks at you expectantly, waiting for your response. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- I stand up and walk around the room. I take in the sights, trying to determine if it's a good enough place to justify me staying here for the rest of my life. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- You walk around the room, taking in the sights. The inn is old and worn, but well-maintained. The furniture is sturdy, if not particularly fancy. The floors are clean, if not particularly polished. Overall, it's a decent enough establishment, if not exactly luxurious. You think about what it would be like to live here, to call this place home. To have a room of your own, a place to rest your head at night. To have meals provided, to not have to worry about where your next meal is coming from. It's a tempting prospect, especially for someone in your position. But you know that with the 85% cut, you'd be tied to this place, beholden to Greta and her establishment. You'd be giving up a lot of your independence, your freedom. You look at Greta, who is watching you closely, her expression a mix of hope and anticipation. She wants you to say yes, wants you to agree to her terms. But she's also giving you the space to make your own decision, to weigh the pros and cons in your own mind. You know she's not going to pressure you, not going to force you into anything. But she's made her offer, and she's waiting for you to decide. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Before heading to the counter I glance over at the stage. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- You glance over at the stage, imagining yourself dancing there, moving your body in ways you've never moved it before. You picture the men watching you, their eyes hungry, their desire palpable. You feel a thrill run through you at the thought, even as a part of you recoils in disgust. You look back at Greta, who is watching you closely, her expression unreadable. She knows what you're thinking, knows the internal struggle you're going through. She's been through it herself, many times over. She knows the allure of the stage, the power it can give you over men. She also knows the cost. She waits patiently for you to speak, to give her your final answer. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Still moving with the body-language of a mercenary for hire, I stride over to the counter and lean forward. I lower my voice so the other patrons across the room can't hear. "I... I accept." ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Greta's face lights up with a smile, her eyes sparkling with excitement. "Excellent," she says, her voice still low and conspiratorial. "You won't regret this decision." She reaches under the counter and pulls out a small, leather-bound book. "This is the contract," she says, setting it down on the counter in front of you. "It outlines the terms of our agreement. Read it over carefully, and if you're satisfied, sign on the line at the bottom." She pushes the book towards you, along with a quill pen. "I'll give you a moment to review it," she says, stepping back to give you some privacy. You pick up the book and begin to read through the contract, your eyes scanning the dense legalese. It's all there... the 85% cut, the living arrangements, the terms of your employment. It's a lot to take in, a lot to commit to. But as you read, you feel a sense of excitement building within you. This is it... this is your chance to change your life, to have a better future. You know it won't be easy, but you also know it will be worth it. You look up at Greta, who is watching you with a mix of anticipation and understanding. She knows what this means for you, knows the weight of the decision you're making. But she also knows that you're strong enough to handle it, strong enough to make the most of this opportunity. You take a deep breath, then dip the quill into the inkwell. With a steady hand, you sign your name on the line at the bottom of the page. As you do, you feel a sense of finality, of commitment. This is it... you're now officially employed by the Rusty Flagon. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- "Okay... What now?" ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Greta smiles, her eyes glinting with excitement as she sees your signature on the contract. "Now," she says, "we get you ready." She reaches under the counter again and pulls out a key on a leather strap. "This is your room key," she says, handing it to you. "It's upstairs, at the end of the hall. Go on up and get settled in. Come back down in two hours after the patrons leave and we'll get you started on your training." ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- "T-Training," I say with a slight gulp going down my throat. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Greta nods, her expression turning serious. "Of course," she says. "You can't just jump right into this line of work without any preparation. We need to make sure you're ready." She sees the uncertainty in your eyes, the hint of anxiety. "Don't worry," she says softly. "We'll take it slow. We'll start with the basics... how to move, how to present yourself, how to... please a man." She sees you blush at her words, but she continues on. "It's not as hard as you might think," she says. "You have a natural gift. We just need to unlock it." She smiles reassuringly. "Go on up to your room and get some rest. We'll talk more when you come back down." ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- I walk up the stairs, my heavy feet making low thuds as I step on each step. As I make it through the hallway I hear sounds coming from one of the rooms. Resting my ear against the door, I hear muffled moans and the squeaking of a bed. I can feel myself blush in response at the thought that that'll be me by the time my training's over. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- You stand outside the door, your ear pressed against the wood, listening to the muffled sounds of passion coming from within. The moans, the creaking of the bed, the low grunts of a man in the throes of lust... it's all so foreign to you, so alien. And yet, you can't help but feel a thrill run through you at the thought of it being you in there someday, writhing beneath a man, your body his to use as he pleases. You blush deeply, your heart racing at the thought. You've never experienced such things before, never even considered them. And yet, here you are, about to embark on a journey that will lead you down a path of carnal delights and depraved pleasures. You take a deep breath, trying to calm your racing heart. You know that what you're about to do is wrong, that it goes against everything you've ever been taught. But you also know that it's your ticket to a better life, a life of comfort and security. With a final, shaky breath, you turn away from the door and continue down the hallway to your room. You insert the key into the lock, turn it, and step inside. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- As I step into the room, I notice a chubby, naked woman passed out on one of the five beds. She's an Altmer, seemingly over 45 years of age. Her hair is long and her nipples are adorned with large rings. She's sound asleep, laying sprawled on the bed. Her snoring is even worse than that of a male orc. As I walk past her, I notice some white residue on her thighs. I chuckle to myself, genuinely amused. "She must be really bad at cleaning..." ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- You look at the passed-out Altmer woman, your eyes taking in her nude form. She's certainly not a young woman, that's for sure. Her skin is starting to sag in places, her breasts drooping slightly, and there are a few stretch marks on her belly. But she's not unattractive, either. There's a certain... allure to her, a certain confidence in the way she lays there, naked and unashamed. You notice the white residue on her thighs, and you can't help but chuckle. "She must be really bad at cleaning," you say to yourself, shaking your head. It's a strange thing to see, but it's also kind of funny. You move past her towards the empty bed across the room, setting your bag down on it. As you start to unpack your few possessions, you hear a low moan from behind you. You turn to see the Altmer woman starting to stir, her eyes fluttering open. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- "Hello," I say, my voice low and rough in the manner you'd expect of an orc. "I guess we'll be sisters from now on..." ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- The Altmer woman opens her eyes slowly, focusing on you. She blinks a few times, her vision coming into focus. She takes in your rough, rugged appearance, your muscular body, and the way you carry yourself like a warrior. She smiles lazily, her voice a bit husky from sleep. "Sisters, huh? I suppose we will," she says. "Though I don't think either of us is much of a sister type." She sits up in bed, not bothering to cover herself. Her breasts jiggle as she moves, and you can see the piercings on her nipples more clearly in the light. "The name's Shalena," she says. "I've been here... oh, going on four years now." ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- She stands up from the bed, facing you with a smile. "Well, anyway... Welcome to the Rusty Flagon." "I'm sure Greta filled you in on the details," she says, stretching her arms above her head. "85% cut, room and board included. It's not much, but it's better than starving on the streets." She looks at you, her eyes appraising your armor and weaponry. "I see you're a fighter," she says. "There's certainly men who like that sort of thing... a woman who can handle herself." She walks over to you, her hips swaying slightly. "You'll do well here," she says, patting your arm. "Just follow my lead, and you'll be swimming in no time." ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- "If you say so." As I remove my armor, she moves up behind me. "Let me get that for you." She begins to undo the straps on my dress, sliding it down my shoulders. I can't quite believe what's happening. "Wha-... What are you doing?" ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Shalena pauses for a moment and gives you a look of amusement. "What does it look like I'm doing?" she asks. "I'm helping you get settled in." She continues to undo the straps on your dress, letting it slide down your muscular frame. She pulls the dress down to your waist, exposing your large, green breasts. She can't help but admire them for a moment. "Not bad," she says with a smirk. She slides the dress the rest of the way off, letting it pool at your feet. She steps back, looking you up and down. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- "Well..." I begin, moving a hand in-front of my crotch and an arm to cover my breasts, "I can't say I was quite expecting that..." It's not the first time I've ever been naked in the company of another woman, but the circumstances have changed everything. My nudity has changed from something trivial to something that's beginning to verge on the shameful. I can feel my face begin to redden as my deep, uncultured voice speaks once more, "I can't believe I actually find this embarrassing." ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Shalena laughs, a hearty, good-natured laugh. "Oh, sweetie," she says, shaking her head. "You're going to have to get used to being naked around here. We don't have much use for modesty in this line of work." She reaches out, guiding your arm away from your breasts. "No need to be shy," she explains. "You've got nothing to be ashamed of." She runs a finger along the curve of your arm. "In fact," she says with a wink, "I'd say you're quite the specimen." ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- "Uhh... Thank you??" ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- She looks down again, admiring your form. "You're going to drive the men wild," she says. "Those big, green tits... that thick, juicy ass... they'll be lining up to get a piece of you..." She reaches out and gives your ass a firm squeeze, feeling the muscle beneath the skin. "Mmm," she purrs. Getting down on her knees, she steers your hand away from your crotch. "Let me see," she says, her voice low and sultry. "I want to get a good look at what we're working with." She looks down at your exposed privates, her eyes widening slightly. "Well, well," she says, a grin spreading across her face. "Looks like you're packing some serious heat down there. The men are going to love that." She reaches out and gently runs a finger along your labia, feeling the soft, green skin. "So soft," she murmurs. "And already so wet. You must be more excited than you're letting on." ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- I pant pleasurably from her careful touch. My knees close slightly in an instinctive response. "Oh... What the fuck..." ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Shalena looks up at you, a mischievous glint in her eye. "Oh, don't fight it," she says, her finger still gently stroking your labia. "This is what you're here for, remember? To give pleasure... and to receive it." She leans in closer, her face just inches from your most intimate area. She takes a deep breath, inhaling your scent. "Mmm," she moans softly. "You smell divine. I bet you taste even better." She looks up at you again, her expression turning more serious. "Let me show you," she says. "Let me show you what it means to be a proper whore." With that, she leans in and places a soft, tender kiss on your clitoris. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- I subconsciously sling my head back. "By the nine!" ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- She pulls back slightly, looking up at you with a satisfied smirk. "The Nine have nothing to do with this," she says, her voice low and husky. "This is all about the pleasures of the flesh." She leans in again, this time running her tongue along your labia. She moans softly at the taste, savoring it. "Delicious," she murmurs. "Just as I thought..." She continues her ministrations, her tongue delving deeper, exploring your most intimate areas. She probes your entrance, then circles your clitoris, flicking it teasingly. As she does, she slides a finger inside you, feeling your tightness. "Oh, you're going to be so much fun," she says, pumping her finger slowly. "I can't wait to see you writhe in ecstasy." She adds another finger, then another, stretching you out, preparing you for what's to come. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- I'm paralyzed with pleasure, unable to move as I continue to pant heavily. From time to time, a soft yet grunt-like moan escapes my brutish lips. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Shalena looks up at you, a wicked grin on her face as she watches your reactions to her skilled touch. "That's it," she coaxes, her fingers pumping faster. "Let yourself feel it. Embrace the pleasure." She curls her fingers inside you, stroking that sensitive spot deep within. "I can feel you clenching around my fingers," she says. "You're getting close already, aren't you? Such a needy little slut." She scissors her fingers, stretching you further, making room for more. "Don't worry," she says, her voice low and soothing. "I'll give you what you need. I'll make you cum so hard you'll see stars." With that, she leans in again, her tongue flicking rapidly over your clitoris. At the same time, she pumps her fingers harder, faster, driving them deep inside you. "Cum for me," she demands, her voice urgent. "Cum all over my face like the wanton whore you are." ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- With a few quick spasms, my hips buckle. My juices spill forth, coating my colleague's face. As the orgasm washes over me, I let out a heavy, labored moan. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Shalena looks up at you with a triumphant grin, your juices dripping down her chin. "That's it," she purrs, licking her lips. "You're a natural." She stands up, wiping her face with the back of her hand. "See?" she says, "That's what we're here for." She takes your hand, leading you to the bed. "Come." Sitting you down onto the bed, she spreads your legs open wide. Sitting down in front of you while holding one of your legs up, she positions her sex against yours. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Not quit sure that this is what I really want, I try my best to interrupt her. "H-Hold on a second..." ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- She looks at you, her expression softening slightly. "Shhh," she whispers. She leans in close, her lips brushing against yours. "I know it's a lot to take in," she murmurs. For a moment she simply stares into your eyes, not moving, not saying a word. Then, she presses her lips against yours, her tongue swirling around your own. She kisses you deeply, passionately, her tongue exploring every part of your mouth. She breaks the kiss, leaving you breathless. "Just relax," she says, her voice low and soothing. "Let me take care of you." With that, she begins to grind against you, her slick folds sliding against yours. She moans softly, savoring the feeling of your bodies coming together. "Feel how wet I am?" she whispers. "Feel how much I want you?" She reaches down, guiding your hand to where you're joined. "Touch me," she urges. "Make me cum." She grinds harder against you, her breathing becoming more ragged. "Don't be afraid," she pants. "Give in to it. Embrace it." ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- I flick my index against her tiny bean, eliciting a soft moan with each hit. As I look down, I feel myself get overwhelmed with emotions and a need for my own release. "T-... Touch me." ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- She nods, sliding her hand down between your legs, her fingers finding your most sensitive spot. She rubs it firmly, circling it, teasing it. At the same time, she grinds harder against you, her clitoris pressing against yours with each movement. The sensation is incredible, sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body. She leans in close, her lips brushing your ear. "I can feel you throbbing," she whispers. "I can feel how much you need it." She rubs faster, harder, pushing you closer and closer to the edge. "Cum for me," she demands. "Cum with me." With a final, hard press, she sends you both over the edge, your bodies shaking with the force of your shared orgasm. She collapses against you, both of you panting heavily. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- "I... I've never felt, anything like..." ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- She smiles, a genuine, warm smile. "I know," she says softly. "It's incredible, isn't it?" She pulls you close, holding you tight. "And this is just the beginning," she says. "There's so much more to learn, so much more to explore." She pulls back slightly, looking into your eyes. "Are you ready?" she asks. "Ready to embrace your new life?" She kisses you again, softly this time. "Ready to become the sluttiest whore you can be?" ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- I avert my eyes slightly, ashamed to say the word. "Y-... Yes." -----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Sugarheart is posting new photos of the Sex Mansion "Hello my sugarcubies ♥ i wanted to introduce you to my husband/manager and ofc sugardaddy Stephen. We met at my very first stripclub visiting he was stunned by my appearance and i was quiet impressed by this handsome 60y old man aswell. So we came along together and he became my very fist manager since now. I love him and he loves me and he love it as well when other man desired me and my soft body. So today i show you a little bit of working with him. enjoy ♥" XOXO Sugarheart 🍆

He estado mas apartado del blog de lo habitual a causa de un funesto acontecimiento familiar y he estado durante algunas semanas alejado del trabajo en Carpa. Carpa 708 es uno de los numeros especiales que cierra de momento la historia de Amparo y se concentrara en el ultimo año de la guerra y de la vida de la artista. A pesar de ser de los ultimos ejemplares de la serie, todo lo narrado en el se convertira en canon y en el se basaran futuros trabajos y revisiones. Siendo un proyecto a largo plazo y en constante evolucion necesitaba tener un definitivo punto de partida. En este numero se combinaran mi trabajo en ilustracion 3d, fotografico y de diseño junto al realizado junto a una IA. Al trabajar en los numeros realizados mayormente con IA, me he dado cuenta de que esta se queda algo corta y necesito completarla con ilustraciones en 3d como venia haciendo hasta ahora. Esta entrada incluira alguna de las primeras paginas realizadas hasta ahora y un boceto del texto introductorio. Google translator: I've been away from the blog more than usual due to a tragic family event, and I've been away from work on Carpa for a few weeks. Carpa 708 is one of the special issues that concludes Amparo's story for the time being and will focus on the last year of the war and the artist's life. Despite being one of the last issues in the series, everything narrated in it will become canon and will be the basis for future work and revisions. Being a long-term and constantly evolving project, I needed a definitive starting point. This issue will combine my 3D illustration, photography, and design work with AI. Having worked mostly on AI issues, I realized that this one falls somewhat short and I need to complement it with 3D illustrations, as I've been doing up until now. This post will include some of the first pages created so far and a draft of the introductory text. Texto introductorio: Al cerrar la edicion de Carpa 1008 y con el los numeros de nuestra publicacion dedicados a presentar la carpeta de Doña Carmen Montoya de Alba negra y Piedra blanca, anunciabamos nuestra intencion de dedicar uno de los numeros especiales, en concreto este 708, a estudiar con detalle el ultimo año de la guerra y la posterior desaparicion de nuestra amiga y sus compañeras en el desierto de Aguas calientes. Son muchos los motivos que nos llevaron a tomar esta decision. Por una parte, durante ese año, Amparo alcanza la plenitud artistica que buscaba desde hacia tanto tiempo, consolida definitivamente su relacion sentimental con Condenacion y lo mas importante para nosotras, inicia el trabajo en la segunda version de su carpeta. Desde el hallazgo por Paquita del baul de la artista y su maravilloso contenido siempre se ha considerado la version “A” como la que deberia convertirse en el homenaje definitivo de la fotografa a todas las combatientes contra la inquina de la “Bestia”. La llamada carpeta “B” siempre se ha considerado, incluida esta redaccion, como un boceto preparatorio de la anteriormente mencionada y nunca ha sido publicada en su totalidad. Siempre nos hemos referido a ella de forma somera. como un complemento mas de la produccion de la autora. Todo ha cambiado tras la incorporacion definitiva a esta redaccion de Petia B5n. Su llegada coincidio con la inauguracion de la gran exposicion dedicada a la obra fotografica y no poetica de nuestra amiga. Mientras era instruido por la arzodocta Balsameda en sus nuevas obligaciones como redactora artificial solicito acceso a todo el material reunido por la redaccion, al contenido del baul y se descargo ingentes cantidades de datos de los mandatos de archivo correspondiente. Aunque, como todas nuestras lectoras saben, se implico en infinidad de proyectos y en su obra fotografica personal, continuo estudiando en segundo plano todos los documentos relacionados con nuestra Amparo. Petia me presento sus conclusiones finales en la terraza de nuestra redaccion durante una de las meriendas que organiza con los productos que cultiva en su huerta, una aficion un tanto curiosa para alguien de sus caracteristicas, pero que constituyen todo un acontecimiento gastronomico para todas nosotras. Tras una larga introduccion sobre sus habilidades y talentos a la hora de estudiar la infinidad de datos descargados afirmo con total seguridad que estabamos totalmente equivocadas respecto a las dos carpetas. Si bien coincidia en el estado embrionario de la carpeta “B”, esta no era un boceto de la “A”, al contrario, Petia consideraba esa version “A” como un primer proyecto del que surgiria el ejemplar definitivo. Consideraba logico que todo el mundo prestara mucha mas atencion a la version “A”, mucho mas completa a pesar de estar inconclusa y dejar fuera o reflejar muy por encima el ultimo año de la guerra, pues la propia artista parecia considerarla como su esfuerzo principal. Todas las cadenas logicas de analisis y pensamiento le indicaban que la redaccion deberia centrarse en el estudio de ese ultimo año y considerar como algo anecdotico la desaparicion de la artista en el desierto. Para Petia, el argumento de la busqueda del antiguo amor perdido no era mas que una banal excusa para difuminar el verdadero motivo de su viaje y posterior desaparicion. Las conclusiones de Petia, en realidad, no cambiaran la percepcion y popularidad de la artista entre el publico en general, pero producirian un pequeño terremoto en los circulos academicos mas elevados. La desaparicion de las tres inseparables continuara siendo un misterio y, es practicamente imposible, que este sea resuelto tras tantos años, pero los argumentos de Petia rebosaban de la caotica presencia de la verdad revelada y merecian ser escuchados y publicados. La reunion de esa tarde fue de las mas animadas y rapidamente fue seguida de una ebria sesion musical como es norma en esta redaccion antes de iniciar cualquier nuevo proyecto. Las directrices generales de los numeros especiales ya estaban programadas por las cuestoras principales de nuestro mandato por lo que Julia decidio presentar el primer boceto de este numero a Doña Asuncion de Fonseca y Antigua, primera de las cuestoras del tercer mandato, cuando nos visitara al concluir la temporada durante la habitual gira de inspeccion. Estas giras suelen hacerse de forma telematica, pero Doña Asuncion gusta de mantener el contacto directo con las redacciones, conocer al nuevo personal y entregar las recompensas o sanciones presencialmente. La presentacion no deberia suponer ningun problema pues Doña Asuncion alienta la critica, el desarrollo intelectual y el conocimiento entre todas las redacciones sin cortapisas o imposiciones. Con la publicacion de este numero nuestras lectoras comprobaran que dicha presentacion fue todo un exito y nuestro Petia mantuvo una animada charla sobre el arte fotografico de Doña Carmen Montoya de Alba negra y Piedra Blanca, oficialmente siempre se recurre al nombre y apellidos otorgados por su familia adoptiva, antes de recibir la aprobacion de Doña Asuncion. En la presentacion apenas intervino el resto de la redaccion, la cuestora principal, sin duda fascinada por la presencia de una criatura como Petia en nuestro mandato editorial, solo presto atencion a la argumentacion de la metalica redactora. La unica recomendacion de obligado cumplimiento consistia en anunciar en el prologo de la publicacio las teorias sustentadas por Petia y que estas, a pesar del trabajo realizado por el mismo y el resto de la redaccion, deberian ser presentadas como una plausible teoria academica ya que nadie podria conocer nunca las verdaderas razones de la artista para trabajar en esas dos versiones o los motivos de desaparicion en el desierto fueran estos cuales fueran. En varios de estos numeros de Carpa comentamos la imposibilidad de realizar nuestro proyecto de investigacion en el desierto de Aguas calientes por su categoria de reserva natural excepcional y la negativa de las autoridades pertinentes a permitir una expedicion del tipo que planeamos en su momento. La incorporacion de Petia y su inicial categoria militar alivio en parte nuestra decepcion pues pudo conectarse a la red de satelites y realizar un detallado estudio del desierto en busqueda de cualquier dato relacionado con Amparo, Teresa y Condenacion. A pesar de la expectación que levanto entre nosotras la investigacion de Petia, esta no desvelo nada que no supieramos. Identifico los restos de algunas instalaciones militares de los tiempos de la invasion abandonadas mucho tiempo atras junto a diversos yacimientos arquelogicos muy prometedores de sus antiguas pobladoras pero nada que nos ayudara a resolver la desaparicion de nuestra amiga y sus compañeras. Para Petia este fracaso en su busqueda reafirmaba su teoria de la falsa desaparicion de Amparo y que aunque este hecho y algunos otros obligaban a la rescritura de algunos numeros de la serie, abria diversas y profundas lineas de investigacion a cual mas interesante. Este numero se ha estructurado en torno a la carpeta “B” y, evidentemente, nos centraremos en el ultimo año de la guerra y primeros meses tras ella. El mas interesante, sin ninguna duda, periodo en la vida y obra de la fotografa, una obra que volvera a sorprender y conmover a nuestras lectoras casi como si publicaramos Carpa 1808 por primera vez. La carpeta se inicia con el acantonamiento de la unidad de Amparo en las landas de Vurria durante los tres inviernos previos a la ultima ofensiva sobre la capital enemiga. Durante esos meses comenzara a trabajar en una breve, pero interesantisima serie de paisajes por primera vez en su vida. La artista, practicamente, nunca habia mostrado ningun interes por el entorno natural, solo como obligado escenario para sus fotografias aparecia en ellas. Durante los primeros compases de la ofensiva combinara este tipo de fotografias con su trabajo artistico habitual. Un trabajo que abandonara parcialmente durante los duros combates urbanos que la llevaran ante el puente de las pescadoras y el definitivo asalto a la “Guarida”. Cabe destacar que por segunda vez durante la guerra alternara la camara fotografica con los utiles y herramientas del dibujo y la pintura. Quizas influida por la trascendencia del momento, Amparo, prefiere centrarse en sus deberes militares y solo al concluir la campaña realizara las soberbias ilustraciones de sus parvulas en combate. Solo tomara algunas fotografias durante las escasa pausas y momentos muy puntuales de la operacion En Carpa 1508 ya presentamos con detalle el trabajo pictorico realizado durante su viaje en tren rumbo a su primer mando. Meses mas tarde publicamos en los servidores algunas de las obras que presentamos aqui como anucio previo a lo que depararian los siguientes numeros de Carpa. Si bien, preparabamos un numero especial dedicado a estas ilustraciones, he decidido que sera mucho mas apropiado incluirlas en este numero bajo el nuevo enfoque teorizado por Petia y en el entorno originalmente decidido por la artista. Recomiendo tambien mantener abierta la carpeta “A” para apreciar con todo detalle las diferencias con la “B”, de la que hemos subido a nuestros servidores una edicion comentada por esta redaccion. Por ultimo, añadire que, en esta ocasion y, por primera vez, Petia, como no podia ser de otra manera, estara a cargo de la direccion grafica y produccion de este Carpa 708. Introductory Text: As we closed the 1008 edition of Carpa, and with it the issues of our publication dedicated to presenting the portfolio of Doña Carmen Montoya from Alba Negra and Piedra Blanca, we announced our intention to dedicate one of the special issues, specifically this 708, to a detailed study of the last year of the war and the subsequent disappearance of our friend and her companions in the Aguas Calientes desert. There were many reasons that led us to this decision. On the one hand, during that year, Amparo achieved the artistic fulfillment she had long sought, definitively consolidated her romantic relationship with Condenación, and, most importantly for us, began work on the second version of her portfolio. Since Paquita discovered the artist's trunk and its wonderful contents, version "A" has always been considered the one that should become the photographer's definitive tribute to all the combatants against the malice of the "Beast." The so-called "B" folder has always been considered, including this editorial, as a preparatory sketch for the aforementioned one and has never been published in its entirety. We have always referred to it briefly, as a further complement to the author's output. Everything changed after Petia B5n finally joined this editorial team. His arrival coincided with the opening of the major exhibition dedicated to our friend's photographic and non-poetic work. While being instructed by Archbishop Balsameda in his new duties as an artificial editor, he requested access to all the material gathered by the editorial team, to the contents of the trunk, and downloaded vast amounts of data from the corresponding archive mandates. Although, as all our readers know, he was involved in countless projects and his personal photographic work, he continued to study all the documents related to our Amparo in the background. Petia presented her final conclusions to me on the terrace of our editorial office during one of the afternoon teas she organizes with the produce she grows in her garden, a somewhat unusual hobby for someone of her background, but one that constitutes a gastronomic event for all of us. After a long introduction about her skills and talents when it came to analyzing the endless amount of downloaded data, she confidently stated that we were completely wrong about the two folders. While she agreed on the embryonic state of folder "B," it was not a draft of "A." On the contrary, Petia considered version "A" to be a first project from which the final version would emerge. She considered it logical that everyone would pay much more attention to version "A," which was much more complete despite being unfinished and leaving out or only briefly reflecting the last year of the war, since the artist herself seemed to consider it her main effort. Every logical chain of analysis and thought told him the editorial team should focus on the study of that last year and dismiss the artist's disappearance in the desert as anecdotal. For Petia, the plot of the search for her lost love was nothing more than a banal excuse to obscure the true reason for her trip and subsequent disappearance. Petia's conclusions, in reality, would not change the artist's perception and popularity among the general public, but they would produce a small earthquake in the highest academic circles. The disappearance of the three inseparable women will remain a mystery, and it is practically impossible for it to be solved after so many years, but Petia's arguments brimmed with the chaotic presence of revealed truth and deserved to be heard and published. The meeting that afternoon was one of the liveliest and was quickly followed by a drunken musical session, as is customary in this editorial office before starting any new project. The general guidelines for the special issues had already been planned by the principal quaestors of our mandate, so Julia decided to present the first draft of this issue to Doña Asunción de Fonseca y Antigua, the first of the quaestors of the third term, when she visited us at the end of the season during her usual inspection tour. These tours are usually conducted online, but Doña Asunción likes to maintain direct contact with the editorial staff, meet new staff, and present rewards or sanctions in person. The presentation shouldn't pose any problems, as Doña Asunción encourages criticism, intellectual development, and knowledge among all editorial staff without restrictions or impositions. With the publication of this issue, our readers will see that the presentation was a resounding success, and our Petia held a lively discussion about the photographic art of Doña Carmen Montoya of Alba Negra and Piedra Blanca. Officially, the first and last names given by her adoptive family are always used, prior to receiving Doña Asunción's approval. The rest of the editorial staff barely spoke during the presentation; the chief quaestor, undoubtedly fascinated by the presence of a child like Petia in our editorial mandate, paid attention only to the arguments of the metallic editor. The only mandatory recommendation was to announce the theories supported by Petia in the publication's prologue. These theories, despite the work done by Petia and the rest of the editorial team, should be presented as a plausible academic theory, since no one would ever know the artist's true reasons for working on these two versions or the reasons for her disappearance in the desert, whatever they might be. In several of these issues of Carpa, we discussed the impossibility of carrying out our research project in the Aguas Calientes Desert due to its status as an exceptional natural reserve and the refusal of the relevant authorities to allow an expedition of the type we had planned at the time. Petia's inclusion and his initial military status partially alleviated our disappointment, as he was able to connect to the satellite network and conduct a detailed study of the desert in search of any information related to Amparo, Teresa, and Condenación. Despite the excitement Petia's investigation raised among us, it didn't reveal anything we didn't already know. She identified the remains of some long-abandoned military installations from the invasion, along with several very promising archaeological sites belonging to their former inhabitants, but nothing that would help us solve the disappearance of our friend and her companions. For Petia, this failure of her search reaffirmed her theory of Amparo's false disappearance. Although this fact and several others required rewriting some issues in the series, it opened up various and in-depth lines of investigation, each more interesting than the last. This issue has been structured around the "B" folder, and we will obviously focus on the last year of the war and the first months after it. Without a doubt, this was the most interesting period in the photographer's life and work, a body of work that will once again surprise and move our readers, almost as if we were publishing Carpa 1808 for the first time. The portfolio begins with the quartering of Amparo's unit in the Vurria moors during the three winters prior to the final offensive on the enemy capital. During those months, she began working on a brief but extremely interesting series of landscapes for the first time in her life. The artist had practically never shown any interest in the natural environment; it appeared in her photographs only as a necessary backdrop. During the early stages of the offensive, she combined this type of photography with her usual artistic work. A practice she would partially abandon during the fierce urban fighting that brought her to the Fisherwomen's Bridge and the final assault on the "Guarida." It's worth noting that for the second time during the war, she alternated her camera with the tools of drawing and painting. Perhaps influenced by the significance of the moment, Amparo preferred to focus on her military duties and only at the end of the campaign did she produce the superb combat illustrations for her children. She only took a few photographs during the few pauses and at very specific moments during the operation. In Carpa 1508, we already detailed the pictorial work completed during her train journey to her first command. Months later, we published some of the works we present here on the servers as a preview of what would come in subsequent issues of Carpa. Although we were preparing a special issue dedicated to these illustrations, I decided it would be much more appropriate to include them in this issue under the new approach theorized by Petia and in the setting originally chosen by the artist. I also recommend keeping folder "A" open to fully appreciate the differences with "B," for which we have uploaded an annotated edition to our servers. Finally, I'll add that, on this occasion and for the first time, Petia, as expected, will be in charge of the graphic direction and production of this Carpa 708.

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SimsNomads Diner View File A New Place for your sims to eat and work and hangout. Mostly created for storytelling Lot is placed in "Magnolia Promenade" ???????????? Submitter SimsNomads Submitted 10/05/2022 Category Lots Requires The Sims 4 Base Game, Backyard stuff, Cats & Dogs, City Living, Cool Kitchen Stuff, Dine out, Discover University, Eco Lifestyle, Fitness Stuff, Get Famous, Get to Work, Get together, Island living, Jungle Adventure, Kids Room Stuff, Luxury Party Stuff, M  

[thread] That is all. [/thread]