from Nefastus Venereæ

While recovering afterward, Dævara reflected that there were things she should have inquired about before beginning; like, what constituted consent in this culture and what the pain/pleasure dynamic was.

How Dævara learned a new appreciation for her mother’s other profession.

Aion: Paraklêtos-Pistis
Galaxy: AL671
World: Cabgorymn
Type: Industrial
Date: 100,637:7 UT

Dame Dævara Tatharsdottir,
Teller of Fate

The first world Dævara spent any time on, after visiting the constellation of her birth was a mild climated one with a green sky and bright yellow sun. No magic had they, apart from illusionists’ tricks, but they knew and respected elfkin.

The Syrat, she learned, was unknown except by fearful reputation. Though no laws governed it, the practice of using the deck, or any other oracle, was forbidden by the strongest of social taboos.

Dæv settled in a temperate coastal city, Piull, rented modest lodgings near the docks and began making discrete inquiries concerning the flesh trade.

Whoring was a semi-respectable profession she learned, having the sanction of law and the indifference of the average person.

By the simple expedient of visiting a whore (male and human), she learned what most of the customs governing the profession in this constellation were.

She concealed from her would-be peer her novice status in the profession. Being the child of a demimondaine helped her feign an expertise she did not possess.

The majority population of Cabgorymn were olive-skinned, dark-haired humanoids averaging seven feet in height. The largest minority were an odd semi-reptilian race whose name she could never pronounce properly: Ojvhkritt.

The latter were violet shading to mauve. Their backs, arms (two), legs (two), and tails (two, sinewy and quite long) being covered with large, shiny scales in the brighter violet. The skin of their chests, abdomens, necks, and faces (as well as palms and soles) were soft and supple and coloured a pale mauve.

She set up her apartments as a crib: front room for waiting clients; complete with a large male Ojvhkritt, Garie by name, to keep the trouble makers away.

The crib proper, Dævara furnished with bedding, pillows, soft lighting, and sheer hangings. It had large windows looking out to sea, which sparkled blue-green in the sunlight and black in light of the two red moons.

Off the bedroom were kitchen and lavatory.

And so it was only with a little trepidation that she welcomed her first paying client.

Garie, Dævara knew, would have made sure that the client was not armed, crazed, or broke before admitting him to the apartments.

While recovering afterward, the elf reflected that there were things she should have inquired about before beginning; like, what constituted consent in this culture and what the pain/pleasure dynamic was.

Her client called himself Valdeed, a common enough name here that Dæv was sure it wasn’t his. He was short for a native, barely a foot taller than she. He was also chubby, a trait uncommon among the middle class. The scars on his hands marked him a fisherman. As her time on this world would teach her, those who plied the waves for a living would be her most frequent and well-tipping customers.

He reeked of the boat he must have spent the past few weeks on. Dæv suggested bathing as a good way to begin. He agreed, only the slightest of smiles touching his black eyes, and began to strip his clothing off. He was hairy as well; his penis almost hidden in an unruly tangle of pubic hair.

Dævara herself wore a sarong and shawl, both of dark green silk. In an instant, she was nude as well. It was only then that she saw the first real reaction from her inaugural client.

There were few elves in the city; few in this constellation, in fact. Dævara Tatharsdottir would stand out in a crowd of them. She was just under five feet in height, but with the curves of a woman. Her skin was alabaster and sparkled like silver dust. Her blush, when it bloomed, was the palest blue. Small teats were capped with frosted pale blue areolas. The auburn glory of her hair—loose ringlets cascading past her shoulders—was threaded through with strands of gold.

‘Valdeed’s’ eyes widened; his cock rose to an impressive nine-inch salute. “I pay, you submit, ya?”

“Of course,” Dæv replied, giving him one of her dazzling smiles. He actually shivered, looking her up and down. The elf assumed by ‘submission’ he meant she was to follow his instructions. She’d been a toy before and had enjoyed it.

Yep. Should have asked that other whore more questions…

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Gideon Jagged
Innsmouth, July 12019 h.e.
Omnes deos sunt daemoniorum.
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