Sensualist
Super-Earth
- Joined
- Sep 7, 2014
- Location
- New Zealand
The Tower of the Unicorn rose above the city of Paganhold's shambling roofs like a tapering ivory drill bit. Though it looked like the temple of some elephant god or mad wizard, the tower was in truth the home of one of the most decadent houses of pleasure in all the realms.
Elegant filigree balustrades of white stone coiled around its walls, with archways and windows at regular intervals. Some of the openings were dark but full of whispers and giggles and moans; others were lit with soft lights, and silhouettes of entwined bodies could be seen in some of them. Gauzy curtains fluttered in the night breeze, and silk sheets had been hung out to dry from some parts of the balcony.
Sebastian had entered beneath the painted sign of a horned horse, into the perfumed halls of the tower-brothel's foundations. Curtains of red silk and copper mirrors reflected the lamplight and gave the chambers a warm, flesh-toned hue. Here and there were antechambers full of cushions, with alluringly scantily-clad women lounging upon them, watching visitors with lustful and mercenary eyes. In two facing alcoves, Sebastian saw a pair of statues: a golden one of a nude, voluptuous, seductive-eyed woman – the Goddess of Passion, his Goddess; and the other of a stern-faced women in formal robes with a hammer in one hand and merchant's scales in the other – the Goddess of Trade. The twin powers that governed the brothel's prosperity.
But it was not the prospect of the women's sensual talents that brought the mage to the Tower of the Unicorn... it was a sixth sense, a subconscious divine providence. An inkling that the Goddess needed him to perform some service, solve some problem, work some miracle here. And it seemed that he was expected, as a shapely blonde in a red gown greeted him at the entrance and lead him to the stairs. “I will take you to the Mistress,” was all she said, though the sway of her hips spoke volumes about potential pleasures. Sebastian and the girl climbed the tower, passing many levels from which music, song, cries of pleasure, grunts of exertion and the occasional crack of a whip or creak of leather could be heard. At last, they reached a chamber near the top of the tower, and the girl pushed aside a curtain made of golden coins and wire that jangled richly, gesturing for him to enter.
Beyond lay a comfortable waiting room with pale masonry walls, bronze torch pedestals and a marble font in which water tinkled, lifted high up the tower by powerful pumps. Thick, soft wool rugs covered the floor, and there were numerous low couches scattered around. On several of them lounged four women – young, lithe, curved of hip and lush of breast, with curling jet black hair, sleek dark tresses or golden waves. Each wore jewellery, piercings, tattoos, skimpy bits of satin, silk and leather that revealed much more smooth, tantalising flesh than it covered. The four beauties looked up with languid grace, smiling invitingly at Sebastian.
“Welcome, sir,” the high-breasted blonde purred.
“To the Tower of the Unicorn,” the almond-eyed girl continued.
“The mistress wishes to see you,” the dark-skinned one said.
“But she is presently occupied,” finished the fourth, with her hair pulled up into a loose bun.
“So she instructed us to make your wait... enjoyable,” they declared in throaty unison.
Elegant filigree balustrades of white stone coiled around its walls, with archways and windows at regular intervals. Some of the openings were dark but full of whispers and giggles and moans; others were lit with soft lights, and silhouettes of entwined bodies could be seen in some of them. Gauzy curtains fluttered in the night breeze, and silk sheets had been hung out to dry from some parts of the balcony.
Sebastian had entered beneath the painted sign of a horned horse, into the perfumed halls of the tower-brothel's foundations. Curtains of red silk and copper mirrors reflected the lamplight and gave the chambers a warm, flesh-toned hue. Here and there were antechambers full of cushions, with alluringly scantily-clad women lounging upon them, watching visitors with lustful and mercenary eyes. In two facing alcoves, Sebastian saw a pair of statues: a golden one of a nude, voluptuous, seductive-eyed woman – the Goddess of Passion, his Goddess; and the other of a stern-faced women in formal robes with a hammer in one hand and merchant's scales in the other – the Goddess of Trade. The twin powers that governed the brothel's prosperity.
But it was not the prospect of the women's sensual talents that brought the mage to the Tower of the Unicorn... it was a sixth sense, a subconscious divine providence. An inkling that the Goddess needed him to perform some service, solve some problem, work some miracle here. And it seemed that he was expected, as a shapely blonde in a red gown greeted him at the entrance and lead him to the stairs. “I will take you to the Mistress,” was all she said, though the sway of her hips spoke volumes about potential pleasures. Sebastian and the girl climbed the tower, passing many levels from which music, song, cries of pleasure, grunts of exertion and the occasional crack of a whip or creak of leather could be heard. At last, they reached a chamber near the top of the tower, and the girl pushed aside a curtain made of golden coins and wire that jangled richly, gesturing for him to enter.
Beyond lay a comfortable waiting room with pale masonry walls, bronze torch pedestals and a marble font in which water tinkled, lifted high up the tower by powerful pumps. Thick, soft wool rugs covered the floor, and there were numerous low couches scattered around. On several of them lounged four women – young, lithe, curved of hip and lush of breast, with curling jet black hair, sleek dark tresses or golden waves. Each wore jewellery, piercings, tattoos, skimpy bits of satin, silk and leather that revealed much more smooth, tantalising flesh than it covered. The four beauties looked up with languid grace, smiling invitingly at Sebastian.
“Welcome, sir,” the high-breasted blonde purred.
“To the Tower of the Unicorn,” the almond-eyed girl continued.
“The mistress wishes to see you,” the dark-skinned one said.
“But she is presently occupied,” finished the fourth, with her hair pulled up into a loose bun.
“So she instructed us to make your wait... enjoyable,” they declared in throaty unison.