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"Ohhhhhh!"
There was no containing her juices, squirting over Oriel's waist and the surrounding bedsheets, huffing from her ordeal. Sharp and brilliant, exactly how she liked to get off. Only then did she release her grip more, panting, a smirk on her face, though it was generous of her to slack off at all.
"That's it, girl," Idril said from behind Lycra, Oriel coughing, disgust wrecking her. "That's what we want."
Lycra settled back down between the slave's legs, her feet returning to their favoured position at Oriel's face, framing it as she showed her sharp teeth in a wide smile.
"That's just the start of it," she said with a throaty laugh, sounding every bit the predator that Oriel had expected her to be. "Oh, little foot slave... You're going to be much-loved here, but you're not going to love much of it yourself, are you?"
Oriel whimpered, swallowing the cry the best that she could. Idril's lips pressed together into a thin line, a line that promised that she was going to be useful and used. Though Oriel would only come to see that later.
"At the brothel, she doesn't need to love anything."
Continued in part two...
