13th Day of Spring, 508 AV
The delightful clenching and then the spiraling release. Her olfactory senses were reduced to nothing but scent and the wafting incense engulfed all else. She was bound by coils of rope, which were now being deftly untied. The sensation was akin to the end of a long day or the feeling of besting an opponent. It was victory and defeat all at once. Nikali was aptly titled, for she could be truly addicting. Still, the young Inarta was there for instruction, not induction. There were boundaries in her mind. She’d come and smell the bouquet. But to drink? No, Eosi could not do that. She served other masters.
The blindfold lifted. She lay upon a velvet divan, unclad and glistening with sweat. Justus gave her a speculative grin, appreciating his handiwork. Her teeth worried at the flesh of her lip, yet her eyes were cold as stone despite their woodland shade. There was no room for idle talk. He was moderately fond of her she could tell. But Eosi had no interest in love. There was no room for such frivolity in her otherwise serious mind. Desire? Certainly. Rising from her reclining form, she began to collect her things.
”Next time you may bite a tad more fiercely.” She frowned at the crescent indentation. The golden-skinned courtesan returned her stern expression. ”I would have drawn blood.” He was clearly concerned with his health. It was understandable. ”You took my maidenhood.” She was rather curt. ”Your lack of faith is disheartening. Perhaps you should consider the source, lest your best customer stray.” In her opinion, she should be the concerned party. There was only one prostitute in the relationship and it was not her. He saw much more danger than she, and she trusted him still.
Eosi pulled on the filmy gown she’d previously worn. It was a shade of canary and bright as the sun. With a languid stretch, she readied to depart. Her cloak would conceal the otherwise transparent frock, but for the moment she wore it proudly, her nudity for all to see. Eosi’s body was strong and capable, despite its smattering of wounds. He’d caned her upon request, then tied her as was the usual. But his blows no longer enthralled her. They were nothing. She craved more.
The entrance hall was dimly lit and ambient, censors ruminating a heady odor. Men and woman hovered about. Some were nude and others not. It became difficult to discern the priests from the patrons, as either seemed equivalently indulgent. Sex was a religion in the Temple of Nikali. It was a fountain that from all Denvali drank. The ritual that sent her into its doors latched on and would not let go. Different men and women alike eyed her with open longing as she emerged from the crimson corridor. Pleasure was pleasure, after all.
Something caught her eye. Delicate, waifish. It was Johanne. She was a miserable wash-out at the Academy, but a brilliant artist otherwise. Eosi had always thought her markedly quiet. It was a quality she appreciated. Prowling, she approached the disoriented looking woman. ”Little bird,” she whispered. ”What are you doing here?” Her shoulders were two bone birds. The metaphor fit rather well. Eosi set aside her departure. ”I’ve not seen you here before.”
I seriously promise it won't happen again.
