Chapter 6: Climax
Angela, the blushing tits stylist, with one foot hooked into her fishnet-covered boot, teetered on the precipice of absurdity. Her firm thighs, adorned with metal studs, threatened to collapse beneath her as she stared hungrily at the withered frog-faced old man who stood before her in nothing but his ratty trouser slacks. She leaned forward, a lewd grin tugging at the corners of her mouth, like a hungry dog alerted to a meaty bone.
She gagged with delight around his cock, her thighs splayed wide open. To her side, Emily watched incredulously as Tim yanked off his trousers and shoved himself inside Angela, pounding hard against her backside.
Edgar leered at Emily, a malevolent glint in his eyes. "Get over here and suck that cock. I want a show," he demanded, watching Emily hesitate for only a moment before she knelt between Tim's legs, swallowing him whole.
Emily, the competitive little bitch, loved nothing more than to outshine Angela in whatever twisted spectacle they found themselves in. She took her role as the lusty dominatrix with gusto, her obsession with victory fueling her desire to satisfy Tim even further. She twisted her torso, taking him deeper, her head bobbing to a grotesque rhythm.
The swallowing motion she'd made was the most blatant way Emily could show her superiority, and it would become her signature act in the days to come.
With a subtle smirk, she glanced over at Angela who, despite an initial struggle to regain her momentum, was managing to put up a fight, albeit incomparable to Emily's fierce performance.
Roger couldn't keep his eyes off Emily, the slimy bastard reveling in her unhinged zeal. The more she dominated Tim with her sluttiness, the more he drank, her charm increasing his alcohol tolerance in exchange for fervid worship and validation.
Angela noticed this and grew infuriated, seeing a potential victory slip through her fingers.
Gathering all of her strength, she decided she wouldn't lose to Emily without a fight. With a growl, she wrapped her arms around Tim's neck and began to ride him vigorously, renewing her vigor and determination.
"Eat it up, you slimy son of a bitch," Angela hissed at Roger, inciting him to cheer her on, condescendingly riding her own enslavement by his cock.
"I'll show you who's the real fucktoy in this room."
The ferocity between the two women turned into an unspoken challenge. It seemed a sexual match made in their own personal hell, as they fought for dominance and submission in turn, their power exchange becoming a game of unsavory roulette.
Roger's eyes flicked back and forth between the rivals, hungry and entertained. The more heated the display, the shorter his breath grew.
Angela and Emily, both soaked in sweat, fought for dominance, thrust for thrust.
Finally, Angela's strength broke through Emily's barrier. With a devious snigger, Roger admitted defeat and staggered towards the soiled couch.
"Bravo, Angela. I've never seen such a resilient little slut," he grunted over his shoulder.
Edgar stepped forward and flipped him the finger. "You like this spectacle, Roger?
Enjoying the fuckshow? Your pathetic self playing peeping Tom, your nose pressed to the glass watching Angela and Emily clawing at each other like wild animals? Seeing their bodies sweat and heave? Hearing the grunts of pleasure as they commodify themselves on the devil's pillows?"
Edgar's voice thundered through the dimly lit space, the sinister edge in his tone dripping with venom. Angela and Emily expanded their postures, standing at attention before Angela's mirror, sweat trickling down their exposed flesh.
Adjusting their fishnets and corsets, they examined themselves without vanity or pride, in a state of pure, unadulterated pragmatism.
"We're fucking ready for this," Angela mumbled with the last vestiges of a wry grin, as if trying to reassure herself.
Emily nodded, her eyes narrowing to slits as she sized up her own reflection. "Just remember what's at stake.
We need to prove that we're not just a pair of dumb tits," Emily snorted, tugging up her fishnet stockings. Angela couldn't help but crack a smile at Emily's choice of words, which she knew were partly intended for Roger's benefit.
The two women exchanged sly glances as Edgar walked in, catching the tail end of Emily's remark. "If anyone thinks we're just a bunch of airheaded whores, they can go fuck themselves," Edgar agreed, the corner of his lips quirking into a grin.
"Sluts we may be, but we are sluts with a purpose."
Angela glanced at Emily, reading her thoughts instantly.
"Well then, let's fuck this up!" Emily shouted, before turning to Edgar. She placed her hands on her hips and said with a grin, "Any last words of advice, oh wise one?"
Edgar crossed his arms over his chest, the sleeves of his cloak sliding down a little to reveal intricate tattoos covering his arms. He looked at them as if just noticing.
"Only one last piece of advice, my faithful whores." He gestured with a sweeping glance over Angela and Emily. "Remember you are expendable. But, you are my best assets in this game of war." He let out a sinister and malicious chuckle.
"Yes, my dear Emily, I have a nice and dirty piece of advice for you. Learn to demean yourself in the eyes of others, degrade yourself to them. Use that sexy little mouth of yours to kiss their feet, whisper sweet nothings about their cocks in their ears, and tell them over and over again, 'I am nothing but a worthless whore for them.' It is a foolproof method to gain their trust and get them to follow your lead in the perilous journey we have embarked on."
Emily swallowed hard, blushing profusely.
She'd always known her slutty mouth was her most powerful weapon, but pretending to be submissive in the eyes of rulers and warriors was a new thing.
"You lack the refinement, Emily," Edgar cackled, breaking the tension in the room. The others couldn't help but snicker with him. Emily's eyes narrowed, and she forced a wry grin to soothe her battered pride.
"Fine, I'll do it.
But first, let me adjust these tits of mine." Emily proclaimed, cupping her modest C-cup breasts in her hands and jiggling them teasingly. She arched her back suggestively, her lewd grin widening as she revealed a small tattoo of a dragon wrapped around each nipple. "Maybe I should show these off a little more prominently..."
Angela's mouth hung open as Emily tugged at her bodice, exposing her areolas to the gathered crowd before quickly covering up again.
," Tim stammered, trying hard to maintain his focus on the tasks at hand. The mental image of Emily's jiggling and impressive pair of C-cups lingered in his mind, making it difficult to concentrate.
"Alright, you fucking bitches can bicker all you want. But remember that our primary objective is to gather vital intelligence and create opportunities for destruction. If you can't put aside your childish games for the greater good, I assure you, you'll find yourselves choking on your own tears."
A pained silence filled the room as Angela and Emily exchanged a long, brooding look.
Emily's voice was barely audible as she tried to regain her composure.
Edgar seemed pleased with her words and pointed to the array of weapons spread throughout his tower. Emily, don't you dare forget, you are a bard at heart. I want you to document every moment, every encounter, and every orgasm. She nodded with determination, feeling the weight of Edgar's expectations settling heavily upon her shoulders. When Emily glanced up to catch Angela's gaze, she was met with a hostile snort.
Emily's sharp ankles, still dancing delicately in her fishnet heels, buckled for brief moments in an attempt to demonstrate an air of dominance.
In the grand scheme of things, she knew what was at stake - a chance to avenge her own self-doubt and prove that she was much more than a cheap whore ready to swallow cock in front of anyone. She yearned for the day she could strike fear into her enemies' hearts and make good on the promises she made.
Angela, who had kept to muttering profanities and insults through most of Emily's little performance, let out a huff of annoyance as the latter glanced away.
"Game days are reserved for me," Angela announced, pushing her fuck-me boots against the floor in a show of dominance. Her chest heaved slightly as she let out a sarcastic and mocking laugh.
"You're right, I guess I stole the show," Emily shrugged carelessly, trying to hide her mounting animosity. She ran her eyes over her own body, taking a moment to appreciate the work that had been done. Emily looked far from being a simple slut, now dressed in a black leather corset, fishnets, and high heels.
Emily looked at Angela and said, rate and rank 5 men who have the most leverage over you including Edgar and say how you are vulnerable to them. Edgar put up a detect thoughts when Emily said that so Angela couldn't lie.
Emily smirked and Angela sighs as she lists out the men while Edgar quietly watched and took mental notes.
Angela's breath hitched in her throat, as she hesitated, trying to recall the men's names. "Okay, I'll play along," she agreed reluctantly, her voice dripping with disgust and irritation. "First is Lorac, the commander of the Pax Tharkas garrison. He's got a hard-on for me ever since I fucked his brains out at the town festival.
I could use his obsession to my advantage, but he also knows embarrassing secrets about my past," Angela revealed, her tone laced with barely concealed loathing.
"Number two, the wily and cunning Tasslehoff Burrfoot," Emily added, grinning mischievously.
"Really?" Angela raised an eyebrow. "Thieves aren't usually my type, but I guess that gold-digging ratfuck does have his moments."
Edgar sighed. "Focus, you two.
Don't forget your next number," Emily reminded Angela, trying to suppress a giggle at her rival's discomfort. Angela rolled her eyes, wanting to strangle her smug former best friend.
"Go on," Emily urged, a sinister grin lighting up her face.
Angela hesitated, before mumbling, "Three, is Flint Fireforge. The powerful sorcerer who commands the minds of his loyal followers with an iron fist. I lost count of the number of times I had to swallow his cock for his favor.
I just had to keep telling myself, "It's only a blowjob. I've done it a thousand times before."
Flint knew how to use his power, his magical prowess, and his reputation to get what he wanted.
"He may be my lover, but he's also my master in this twisted world we've created," Angela muttered reluctantly.
"Well, I always knew you were a sucker for punishment," she teased, making no attempt to hide her pleasure at Angela's misery. Edgar's gaze bore into Emily's brain, unnerving her, but she mustered the courage to continue.
"Four, is Sturm Brightblade. The noble lord who hides behind that shining armor of his. Alas, that fucker never could satisfy me in bed.
Edgar had Angela get on all fours so he could take her doggie style. Emily reacted and got off a 1 liner.
Angela took a moment to regain her composure, gripping the sheets tighter. "Well, I'm glad Sturm's not the only one who can't get the job done," she shot back, gritting her teeth as Edgar continued to thrust into her. Edgar asked Angela to rate and rank 5 emotions before she gets permission to cum.
She reluctantly followed his command, thinking he couldn't be any more devious.
"Five, Anger. It fuels me. It makes me do insane things, and I relish every second of it. Four, Hate. It's a close second to anger. It burns deep in my belly, reminding me of all the pain and suffering I've endured. Three, Frustration. This emotion fuels my jealousy. I want what other people have, and I will do whatever it takes to get it. Two, Jealousy.
Who else can make me feel this inferior? Make me yearn and crave to rip those perfect tits from their chests and replace them with my own? Make me want to claw my way through their perfect, untarnished flesh and be the supreme whore I know I am?
But then again, Angela thought as Edgar's commanding voice cut through her anger, One, Lust. This one is the most potent of all. It fuels my desire, my ambition, my need for pleasure, and validation. Rate the emotions 1-10.
Angela stared at Edgar, trying to gauge his intentions. With reluctance, she began to rank the emotions as instructed. When she finished, Edgar gave a sly grin and nodded his head.
"Very good. Now cum for me, you little slut."
Angela obeyed as Edgar pulled out and came on her face.
"Alright, Emily, it's your turn," Angela called over to her friend who had been quietly watching their little escapade. Emily's eyes brightened as she got up from the couch, swaying slightly from the alcohol she had consumed earlier.
"Just pretend I'm Roger," she giggled, strutting over to them with an exaggerated swagger, placing a hand on Edgar's shoulder for balance.
Emily swung her hips, her fishnets riding high on her thighs, her tits bouncing and jiggling in her black leather corset with every step. Edgar felt a stir in his loins, imagining for an instant the pleasure he could have from this degraded woman. The two women locked eyes for a brief moment, and Anna let out a wry chuckle. "As if that could ever happen."
Edgar couldn't help but laugh at the interaction between the two women, enjoying the show they put on for him.
He admired their spirit and the fire that burned within them, the determination to hold their own in the world of political manipulation and sexual domination.
"There's no denying that you two were the bestlets in Kalaman," Edgar mused aloud, walking over to Emily and grabbing her by the neck. He leaned in close and whispered into her ear, "Remember, you are my pawns, and I control your game pieces.
I command all of your actions, every move, and every degrading act that crosses your beautiful, desecrated minds." He snickered and ran his tongue up Emily's cheek.
Edgar's grip on Emily tightened as he manhandled her over to the bed, where Angela lay, waiting to see what he had in store for her best friend. He pushed Emily down until she was positioned on all fours, her ass exposed for the world to see.
Now Angela you head to the docks and find things out, Emily@Side bitch Queen@Slutty storyteller collar will satisfy a couple kinks. Remember Angela to trade your self respect for information.
Let these men touch you, let them enjoy your body as long as it gets us closer to our goals. And, above all, bask in their approval and validation, let them see you as the best whore in all of Kalaman.
With that Edgar gave Angela a sadistic smile. Something about the smirk on his lips sent a shiver down her spine - a mix of revulsion and anticipation. Angela knew that this task would require her to degrade herself in ways she had never imagined. But for Edgar, for the promise of power and revenge, she would do it.
Angela straightened her back, running her fingers through her short dark hair. She stood at the threshold of the Kalaman docks, and the familiar scent of seaweed and fish guts overwhelmed her senses.
Her leopard-print miniskirt fluttered in the breeze as Edgar's words replayed in her mind.
"Bitch, use those fucking massive tits and that blowjob mouth you're so proud of - offer them up to any man who can help you along the way.
If they want to squeeze your tits, let 'em. If they want to get a taste of your cock-sucking skills, be their little whore and open wide, darling," Edgar commanded, his eyes gleaming with menace and lust.
Angela pouted, her anger at Edgar's degrading words barely hidden beneath her surface. Biting her lip, she nodded slowly before turning and striding down the busy docks.
Angela did her best to catch the attention of men with the sway of her hips and the jiggle of her huge tits, the black leather collar Edgar had given her clinking with every step.
As she passed a group of rough-looking sailors, one of them let out a catcall. "Well, look what we have here! Ain't you a little piece of ass?"
She stuck her chest out and cocked a brow challengingly. "You think so, do you?" She said with a wink, her D-cup breasts nearly spilling out of her corset as she gestured to the vacant alleyway next to them.
The one-eyed sailor didn't waste any time, pushing her hard against the damp brick wall and squeezing her ample cleavage in his meaty hands. Angela groaned and let him have his way, all the while listening intently for any hint of intel that would give her an advantage over her enemies.
She felt his hot breath against her ear as he whispered filthy things about her ripe, slippery cunt and how he was going to slide his cock between her massive jugs, then take a seat on her downturned, quivering mouth.
Emily was in the BDSM room at the tower. Edgar told her to rate 4 kinks she thought she could satisfy of his and rank them.
Angela thought of only three: giving blowjobs to men she didn't like, being tied down and spanked, and public nudity. She told Edgar with a sarcastic smirk, "Well, I guess I'd better get started with this fucking audition, huh?"
Emily was feeling left out, so she asked for her own audition. Edgar laughed and said, "Sure thing, sweetheart. But it ain't gonna be easy." He handed her the slutty storyteller collar and said, "This beauty has a bit of magic in it.
You will be able to share detailed accounts of your past sexual encounters and be obliged to surpass them with your future partners." Emily stared at the collar, taken aback by its intricate design and far-fetched enchantment.
"But... what if I can't fulfill the expectations?" Emily questioned, her voice trembling with anticipation. Edgar said, well I have charm person spells, suggestion spells and calm emotions. You will need to do your best.
And you will need to try anything and everything to beat your previous records, no matter how embarrassing or degrading.
To prove your dedication to your whorish ways, I want you to find a good-looking sailor and take him back to the tower, right now." Emily shivered with anticipation as she gulped down the last of her wine. As soon as the room was quiet, she put on the slutty storyteller collar and marched back to the docks, her heart pounding in her chest.
Emily knew exactly who she was looking for.
With her newfound powers of seduction and humiliation, she felt invincible. As she made her way down the crowded docks, she noticed a sailor with a particularly cocky swagger. He had a bullwhip slung casually over one shoulder, with a pair of wide leather straps resting at his waist. Perfect. Emily approached him, sauntering up to him with an air of confidence she didn't even fully possess.
"Hey there, big titted bitch," he sneered, eyeing her up and down.
Emily smirked at his vulgarity, embracing her identity as a whore and taking his comment as a compliment. "My name's Emily, sweetheart, and I've got a proposition for you.
Follow me back to the tower and I'll let you tap that juicy cunt of yours on that handsome cock of yours."
The sailor hesitated for a moment, taken aback by her boldness. But Emily didn't let that deter her.
She knew exactly how to reel him in and make him want her. "Come on, big boy, I know you want it," she cooed, biting her Juicy lower lip and giving him a seductive wink. "You can do whatever you want to me - I'm just a worthless whore anyway."
The sailor's eyes narrowed, and Emily could see the gears turning in his head. He looked her up and down once more, his gaze lingering on her ample breasts and legs.
"I always wanted to fuck a whore like you,"
he said with a scowl. Emily grinned at that comment, thinking to herself that she was going to make this motherfucker pay for his vulgarity in the best way possible.
When they reached the tower, Emily led him straight up to the BDSM room. She locked the door behind them and turned to face her new conquest.
"Right, now I want you to strip down, bitch," Emily commanded, her voice dripping with authority.
As if on cue, the collar around Emily's neck seemed to pulse with energy, urging her to share her sordid tales of past sexual conquests.
"I once fucked a stablehand, bent over a pile of hay and took it from behind while he yelled out his release. He was rough and filthy, just the way I like it," Emily declared, surprised at her own brazenness.
The sailor's eyes widened, and he swallowed hard. "And what about you?" Emily challenged, gesturing to him with a wicked grin.
"I'm sure I can surpass that, and every other disgusting act you've ever done, you fucking whore."
She pulled at the slutty storyteller collar, reminding him of the debaucherous task at hand.
The sailor shrugged out of his shirt and unlaced his pants as she spoke, revealing a lean, muscled torso and a rapidly hardening cock. Emily watched him with a clinical eye, sizing up her competition like a general surveying the battlefield.
She thought she could take him on. After all, she'd fucked her fair share of studly men, and if this guy thought he was going to best her, he had another thing coming.
"Come here, you measly fucker," she ordered, pointing to the floor by her shiny knee-high boots.
The sailor obeyed, and Emily looked down at him with a calculating gaze. "You think you can outdo me, huh? I've had bigger and better cocks than yours.
I've deep throated cock like a motherfucker, gargling cock like a champ. I've eaten pussy so sloppy it ain't even funny, let alone filthy. Now, what have you done, sailor boy? Show me what you're made of.
Emily marveled at herself, feeling a strange sense of power and freedom. She had never spoken so crudely about sex, but something about the storyteller collar made her feel like the dirtiest, kinkiest slut alive. It felt exhilarating.
Angela had always been a bit of a wild one, unafraid to take risks and grab life by the balls, but she'd never fully embraced her inner slut until now. It was intoxicating, being surrounded by all these hard, muscular men on the Kalaman docks. Each one she approached had the same look in their eyes - lust, hunger, greed for the tight little body hidden beneath her skimpy outfits.
She strutted through the crowds like she owned the place, letting out little grunts of pleasure as they groped her tits and ass.
A few whistles encouraged her onward, their catcalls spurring her on in her mission for self-degradation. Angela couldn't help but feel a twisted excitement, taking note of the intelligence she'd gathered at each lewd encounter, all while striving for that validation she so desperately desired.
Angela came across a burly, bearded merchant, his eyes sweeping up and down her body with a slow, calculating gaze. He leered at her, a wicked grin making its way onto his weathered face as he pulled out a pouch of gold coins.
"How 'bout I buy you for a night then, you little slut?" he propositioned with a chuckle, his voice sounding like gravel being ground into a bottle.
Angela didn't hesitate for long, barely even pausing in her stride as she swung a lithe leg around the merchant's torso and whispered into his ear, "Deal, stud.
But you're gonna have to show me your money before we start. I know a hundred different ways to steal it from even the slipperiest fuckboy."
Edgar smirked, his eyes falling on Angela's swaying hips and her tight-fitting leather top, which seemed to barely contain the overflowing bounty of her D cups. "Remind me to give you a bonus, you saucy minx," he murmured, the faintest gleam of pride in his eyes.
Angela knew she had to keep up appearances. And, in her eyes, what better way than to seduce the men who could bring them the information they needed?
She flashed Edgar a coy smile and strutted towards the group of sailors, hips swaying in her tight leather pants. The collar around her neck tightened with each step, as if urging her to go along with her plan.
As she neared, Angela let out a husky laugh, her eyes sparkling with a mischief that hinted at a willingness to please.
She swung her hips and twirled her hair around her finger - classic moves that never went out of style, no matter the world or era.
"Gentlemen, care for some company for the night?" Angela drawled, letting her voice drip with sensuality. She reached down and cupped her ample breasts, pushing them up and together as she offered them to the closest man, a grizzled sailor with a scruffy beard and piercing blue eyes.
"Bitch wants some, eh?" he growled, his gaze locked on the twin globes before him. Without hesitation, Angela sank to her knees and wrapped her lips around the sailor's thick shaft, taking him deep into her mouth. As she serviced him from beneath the table, Emily and Queen taunted her from the sidelines, the busty sorceress cracking jokes and the queen pouting like a jealous ex-girlfriend.
Meanwhile, the BDSM room at the tower bustled with activity as Squirter and Tim got down to business.
Tim, an imposing figure with muscles rippling under his shirt, watched as Squirter's D-cup breasts bounced up and down while she was on all fours on the floor. She moaned in ecstasy as he slapped her ass, leaving a red mark.
"You like that, whore?" he asked with a smirk.
"Fuck yeah, I do," she replied, her voice muffled by the ball gag in her mouth.
Tim, enjoying domming Squirter, continued to spank her as hard as he could.
With a mischievous glint in his eye, he dangled a shiny object in front of her face. Squirter's eyes widened as she immediately recognized it as her precious tiara, Queen's favorite accessory.
"Looking for this?" Tim sneered, tracing his fingers over the tiara's delicate stones. Squirter's eyes pleaded with him, silently begging for its return.
"Beg for it, whore," he barked.
"Beg for your pathetic tiara back."
"P-please...give it b-back to m-me," Squirter mumbled with the ball gag in her mouth.
Tim grinned, a cruel glint in his eye. "Oh no, I don't think so. I think I'm going to keep this and make you do something in return. Something degrading and dirty.
Tim made Squirter crawl around the BDSM room, her perfect tits bouncing with each movement while he held the tiara out of reach. He loved how the slut begged for it, like the pathetic little whore she was.
Meanwhile, back at the docks, Angela expertly deep-throated a sailor who was so impressed that he let slip that the Dragon army would be moving in soon.
Angela listened with delight, her mind racing on how to use this intel to her best advantage.
"You're good at this, Angela." Emily complimented, swigging her ale. "If you weren't Edgar's side bitch queen, I'd say you could become a real spy. But, hey, if the pay is shitty, it might be better to stick with being a whore, right?" she giggled. Angela snorted and shoved the sailor away, his cum dripping down her chin.
"I hardly think being a whore is going to be a problem, bitch," she retorted, her gaze burning with anger and frustration.
Edgar never failed to appreciate her quick comebacks.
He stroked her hair tenderly as she lowered herself onto the bed, already knowing she would come to him when she was ready to reveal the information she had gathered.
Meanwhile, Emily returned to the tower, dragging her exhausted conquest behind her, both of them higher than kites.
She was proud of her achievement - not just the conquest, but her ability to fulfill the promises she had made while under the influence of Edgar's charm spell and slutty storyteller collar.
"Bitch, you better have something good for me," Edgar drawled as Emily stumbled into the BDSM room, pushing her sailor down onto the bed with a wicked gleam in her eye.
"I have more than just something good, slut," Emily replied, a dangerous glint in her sobering eyes as she pulled off the collar.
"I have intel that will blow your fucking mind. I just banged the head of the Dragon Army's spy division."
Edgar's eyes widened with shock and surprise, and he couldn't help but feel a deep gratitude towards Emily. "Fuck, woman, you're a goddamn genius. We can use this-this is just what we need right now. With this intel, we can plan our next move against the Dragon Army," he exclaimed.
Meanwhile, Allison was still on her mission down the docks.
Walking with purpose, she approached a group of gossiping merchants, using her beauty and charm to gather information. Spotting her nemesis, the Queen, in a nearby tavern, Allison smirked to herself and hatched a plan.
"So, my friends, have you heard the latest rumors about Edgar's trusty whore?" she asked loudly, drawing the attention of the merchants. "Seems she's been giving some pretty impressive blowjobs lately, even earning herself a new title...
'The Sluttiest Blowjob Queen of Kalaman!' Or so the stories go."
The merchants chuckled nervously at her jest, casting looks over at the blonde queen nursing her drink a few tables away.
That little bitch sure wasn't going to like this.
Allison reveled in the mischievous satisfaction that welled up inside her, her tits heaving with laughter. It was time to give that stuck-up bitch a piece of her mind.
"You know, I heard she's such a sloppy cocksucker, she could probably lubricate an entire sword just from a single blowjob," Allison said with a raised brow and a wink. "Surely that kind of talent can't be denied?
Maybe even bigger titles await her?" someone teased in response.
Allison grinned at her success, knowing the message had been sent loud and clear.
With the merchant's attention diverted, Allison slipped away, determined to pay the Queen a visit.
She strutted over to the tavern with purpose, deliberately swaying her plump tits and hips, daring to catch the Queen's eye with her saucy display.
Once she was seated across from her, the two blonde beauties exchanged a look of thinly-veiled hostility and sass.
Allison took a long swig of her ale, her full tits heaving with the motion.
"Hey, there, slut," she said, keeping her tone light and easy. "I've heard a thing or two about you lately. Seems you've developed quite the reputation for your cock-sucking skills."
The Queen's eyes narrowed at the baiting. "Bitch, I learned from the best," she replied, casting a sarcastic glance in Edgar's direction. "Now who the hell are you?
Did Edgar bring in some new whore to compete with us?" The Queen snapped back.
Allison's lips curled into a wicked grin. "Oh, I'm no competition for you, darling. But I thought maybe we could help each other out, have a little fun. You know, give Edgar a show, bounce our huge tits and make him hard as a fucking rock."
The Queen scoffed but couldn't help looking down at her busty chest. "Fine.