House of Temptation – 2 [❤️]

The House of Temptation’s lounge is…quaint. Lord Quinn’s brothel workers loiter by the bar and the purple divans, giving patrons sultry gazes to entice them into buying their time. A few of them work together, tender skinship tempting potential clients with a chance to get with a pair of escorts.

The air is rich with DESIRE and aphrodisiacs. Horny pirates, smugglers, and thieves become trapped by their lusts. Blinded by their overactive loins, gold and silver spills from their fingers in rivers.

You are November, the first among your siblings to appreciate wealth. Gold, silver, gems may have incredible uses as foci and reagents for magic…yet their true power lies in the influence they have over mortals. Despite most being unable to use these materials to eat or empower themselves, there is a hint of something akin to DESIRE that moves mortals to strive for these shiny trinkets.

You’ve learned to take advantage of greed in Haven, and now you hope to use it to accumulate more power outside of Haven. You’re sitting next to Grace, tracing the rim of your martini in a casually distant manner.

Your back is arched to emphasize your plump ass, twinkling gold and silks hanging from you to hint at a higher quality experience.

This strategy has worked for you thrice this shift. Twelve since you started three shifts ago. You’ve done the math, and you’re pulling more money client for client than most other workers here. The only problem is that you don’t expect this good rate to continue. You could build up a reputation after the novelty of your rich apparel wears off.

The beautiful irony of gold is that when everyone has it, it becomes worthless.

“Hey, November.” Grace nudges you. Poor girl’s only solo jobs were for oral.  “You’ve gone a full four shifts without stopping. Take a break, girl!”

Her eyes light up with repressed DESIRE. Her gaze trails down your coffee-brown skin, pausing on the nipples pressing through the silks holding up your breasts, before continuing down to your thick waist and resting between your legs. She hides her throbbing erection as you shift one leg over the other, letting her peek at your fat pussy lips.

“You’ve been with me just as long. And you’ve only joined me four times.” You look down your nose at the futanari. “Pity…”

She’s helped men worship your body perfectly. Every time you took a client with you, she's found new ways to caress your naked form. Despite her apparent youth, she knows an equint's erogenous zones quite well. Her hands trailed up your swirling skin patterns, groping your magnificent E-cups, clenching your wide hips as you rode your clients. Her gaze lingered forlornly on your perfect curves, dashes of of her precum tracing on your body every time you get close enough to tease her...

She is an ideal comrade.

“Well…” Grace chuckles nervously, a hint of DESIRE wisping off her. “Those were great…though it’s a tossup if men are into my body.”

“You’re not advertising yourself properly.” You sip at the drink. The alcohol drowns out the dusty taste of fruit. “You need to show your dick off more. By the Lord, you haven’t even gone for the women.”

The House of Temptation is a good destination for female miscreants. Lord Quinn had the clever idea of partially separating the lounge by a staircase so that both sexes had their own areas. With a full view of the runway stage as well.

“It’s fine! I’m not that desperate for money…” She gets off her stool and heads for the changing rooms. “I’m curious to see how much I’ve earned. Doubt it’s enough to buy an airship, though.”

“I’ve been paid about five of these.” You follow her as you take one of your many bracelets off and have it hover in your hand. “I’ll need about a hundred to buy an airship, two hundred for a good one, fifty for a good crew, and another fifty for supplies. This isn’t efficient enough.”

“You’re upset you won’t be able to get your trade caravan in—” She counts on her fingers. “—nearly five hundred shifts? I don’t think I’d be able to earn that much in four thousand shifts.”

If she earned as much as she did today, she’d only need a little over seven hundred shifts. With your help, you could get her to earn that much under five hundred. Considering she’s gone nine hours without a break, this is untenable for her. You enter the changing room and the other girls turn to look at you and Grace.

“Hey it’s the new girl!” Suzie is sitting like a guy on a couch, her flaccid dick out for everyone to ignore. “Twelve high rollers, back-to-back? You’re good.”

The workers gravitate towards you, curious to meet you away from the clients. A few of them look at your expensive clothes with jealousy. You recognize one of them from the bathroom when you went to freshen up between sessions.

“So where are you from?”

“I saw her come from the portal room, so Prillia.”

“Are all whores so rich in Prillia?”

“Are you kidding? It’s expensive as Hells to go through. She’s probably the only prostitute rich enough to cross.”

“Hey, Crystal says that you clean yourself up weird—”

“Alright girls!” Opal barges in with heavy sacks of silver. “Paytime! You’re all doing great and—Oh, November! Here’s yours.”

The minotaur cow pulls a smaller pouch from between her breasts and tosses it to you. From the weight and the jingle, you know it’s not silver. The other whores realize this, and their eyes widen.

They know the power of gold.

Opal passes over the rest of the wages. Grace’s is bigger than others’, but not by much. Opal then rushes off and returns with food to share. As they pass the food around, the prostitutes gossip. About good clients, bad ones, and the little secrets they’ve let slip. Someone cheating someone else in cards for a contract. A nephew of some Pirate Lord dying, and where they hid the body. Some Captain’s crush on another. Boring stuff. You don’t pay as much attention as Opal, more thinking about how to get more money.

“Graaaaaace!” Suzie whines.  “Why haven’t you gone after the girls yet? You’re not even drawing attention to your dick!”

“That’s what I said!” You huff. “Grace still has much to learn.”

"At least she’s not licking her fancy clothes clean after a session.” Crystal says smarmily. “You’re a slut at heart, November.”

“Thank you, Crystal.” Mortal insults are beneath you. “It was a free meal.”

The girls gape at you, Grace included. You raise a single eyebrow regally. Did these dull girls not realize it yet? Perhaps if you stopped hiding your demonic features? Your horns and tail shimmer into existence, the darkness returning to your sclera. A few of them back away in fear.

“Another one…”

“From that part of the portal?”

You roll your eyes and float the gold coins out of your pouch. Before their stunned gazes, the gold melts in your magical grip and reforms into five more bracelets. They settle on your arms with a small sizzle.

“Woah.” Grace gasps. “But don’t you need a few gold pieces?”

“For what?” You scoff. “Food? Sleep? Other mortal needs?”

Making money as a mortal must be awful. They keep losing money just by living. Opal sighs and shakes her head.

“Sorry about the girls, November. A few of them are a bit paranoid after Chelsea joined the three little ones through the portal. I warned her a foursome with them might ruin sex for her.”

“I knew Boss Rumpelstiltskin was going too far.” Crystal groans. “First that Robinson and those three little twerps, now this?”

“Are you the same type of demon as the little ones?”

“She’s clearly more like that Mr. Crusoe.” One of the girls swoons as she says his name. “I can’t believe the Pirate Lord isn’t keeping him all to herself…”

“So wait, you can actually sustain yourself on semen?” Another prostitute approaches you, a spark of DESIRE in her.

A few more are looking between you and Grace’s larger wage bag. A different kind of desire is kindled in their eyes. Sadly, you don’t have multiple bodies like Lord Quinn. You’d offer to help them, for a price. It’d be easy even if you had access to a few more demons.

An idea forms.

You have quite a few younger siblings. They could pool their resources with you, and you help them get access to more DESIRE. Perhaps it is time for you to build a personal harem. Before they can come, you need to prove your worth to the workers here. You turn to Grace.

“Grace.” She sits up straighter. “Would you like me to help you become much richer?”

It's been a few days since you were sequestered several floors under the surface of Nancy's Tavern. You've been given food, water, even something to smoke while you wait before you were brought into a large chamber. The room is dark. So dark, your harpy eyes can’t see. All at once, torches light up behind shadowy figures high above you and a blinding beam lands on you. It’d be a lot more intimidating if you didn’t have soul sight.

You are Rumpelstiltskin. You recognize Missy's soul as she climbs up several flights of stairs, even tripping on one, before taking her seat with the rest of the Pirate Lord Council. You recognize Baiser’s soul, winding around in mirthful curiosity.

“The Council recognizes Rumpelstiltskin and calls to meet regarding the portal.” Missy’s voice is magically disguised until the light shines bright and she is revealed. “Missy, Lord of Shamans.”

They each call their names as they are revealed. You appreciate the flair for the dramatic.

“Madame Baiser, Lord of Escorts.” She sends you a subtle wink.

“Goldwing, Lord of Riches.” An older harpy with a monocle says.

“Black, Lord of Jawfish Cove.” The minotaur glares at Goldwing.

“Crackit, Lord of White.” That would be the crack dealer.

“Oom, Lord of Green.” The equint lady stinks of weed from down here.

“Quincy, Lord of Purple.” This woman can be interesting to talk to; magic drugs are a whole new market.

“Zwelle, Lord of Steel.” Another minotaur, far buffer and more scarred. A real raider.

“Xernsis, Lord of Iron.” The only human seems familiar…oh shoot, he’s your body’s old employer.

They settle down and all stare at you. As if waiting…Oh right. You bow deeply. That satisfies them. Zwelle is the first to speak.

“Let’s get this out of the way, pimp.” Most of his venom is aimed at Baiser. “What are the chances of the natives of the plane will attack?”

“Nonexistent.” You shrug. “They want to trade.”

And fuck. Mostly they want to fuck.

“They are very potent clients.” Baiser purrs.

Ah yes. Cloth, Latch, and Tropo were treated to an all-expenses paid vacation at Nancy’s Tavern. They mostly stuck to the red-light district. They were very generous.

“And how are we to trust that Rumpelstiltskin follow the Code?” Quincy chimes in. “He is a stranger.”

“His workers are healthy and well-treated.” Baiser answers. “So much so that my girls and boys are clamoring for a chance to work at a House of Temptation.”

Goldwing glowers. “Fucking unions.”

Literally.

“Enslaved and kidnapped prostitutes don’t put their hearts into it, dear Goldwing.” Baiser shoots.

“Slaves are cheap. Naïve idiots are a copper a dozen.” The rich harpy scoffs. There’s a history between those two.

“Enough.” The Lord of Jawfish Cove interrupts their squabble. “I’m more concerned about the fact that ‘Rumpelstiltskin’ hasn’t been honest with since the very start.” He stands up, his shadow looming menacingly over you. “Isn’t that right, Rusty?”

Black’s reveal causes scattered confusion. Some of them already know, but mime surprise anyways. Only Baiser and Missy don’t react. Clearly, they don’t all share the same information. Xernsis is also confused, but the name rings a bell. All of a sudden, it hits him.

“Weren’t you one of my captains?” He snaps his fingers and stands up. “No wonder I didn’t recognize you, your goiter disappeared!”

Yeah, you had that removed seconds after landing at Nancy’s Tavern. You wanted to remove it earlier, but Rusty’s other changes already brought too much attention. It’s no surprise nobody identified you, that thing was big.

“How can we trust a man who lied about his name to escape Xernsis’ influence?” Black grumbles. “Such a fraud would betray us in a heartbeat!”

The Pirate Lords discuss among themselves, magical notes flying between them as they check each other’s information. Missy and Baiser exchange telepathic messages, no doubt trying to figure out what they can reveal and what they shouldn’t. They’re great teammates.

Not you.

“Yeah, no.” You raise a wing and their attention falls on you.

<What are you—> You forcefully cut Missy’s message off.

“Imma be real, Rusty is totally the type of person to betray you. I should know, he broke our contract and I got to keep his body.”

That shuts them up. All but three of them are stunned. Baiser is amused, probably already in the know because one of her workers blabbed. Missy is frustrated and grinding her teeth. Then there’s Oom, who just lights up a joint.

“A demon?!” Crackit screeches. He swings around and points at Missy. “Did you invite this foul creeeeeeeature here? Conniving swiiine, what is this!”

There’s powder on his nose and his voice sounds like nails on chalkboard, what the fuck.

“No, we—” Missy is pressing her face in her hands.

“LIAR!” The crackhead yells before she even finishes.

This sets off the other Pirate Lords and they start yelling at each other. Some stuff about who screwed over whom, a dead nephew, old grudges, and recent bad deals. Words and flying letters whizz around in a storm.

<What have you done?!> Missy subtly draws spell circles. <What are you even thinking?>

You’re loving telepathy because you can send anything you want to people. Mind magic like hypnosis is always fun, but you can get funnier with creative uses of telepathy. Like sending Missy what you imagine having sex with Crackit would be like. She stumbles with her spell and shit starts to go sideways.

When Zwelle punches Goldwing after the old harpy hit him too hard with a message, all hell breaks loose. Goldwing lands near Baiser, who hastily bats him off into Black. Black is knocked into Xernsis, who uses the opportunity to stab him in the side when the minotaur turns around to grab Goldwing by the throat. Goldwing escapes by flailing around like a wet cat, slashing at everyone nearby.

Crackit swings out a pistol and waves it around. This is well and truly a crackhead. It’s not even a handgun, it’s some type of blunderbuss. Nobody pays him any mind, so he turns to the original object of his ire.

You.

He will aim elsewhere.

He aims at Missy.

Crackit pulls the trigger just as a shield appears around her…and everyone else in the room.

She didn’t need to bother, because the crackhead’s blunderbuss fires, it explodes. Unfortunate timing. With no shield, his arm would have been gone. With the shield, a million pieces bounce around and turn a lively Crackit into a something that’s been dragged behind a redneck’s truck for eight miles.

While being used as target practice.

The others calm down and recompose themselves.

“I know what I’m doing.” Missy states. “If you would stop casting me in doubt and fighting for the stupidest things. Was it not a Missy who was the First Pirate Lord? A Mista who guided us through the Perilous Pirate Purge?”

Missy is old money.

“Fuuuuckinnn’ biiiiitch!” The pile of meat squeals.

“Shut up.” Missy glares at the pile.

Dude is regenerating. That’s…not normal, right? Does cocaine give people super powers in Avalon?

“So is nobody going to mention that Oom was the only one not bothered at all by me spilling the beans?” You blurt out.

The Pirate Lords slowly crane their heads to look at you, then Oom. They can’t see her. She took the chance to hotbox the bubble shield. Missy sends you a quick glare.

<You and I are going to have a talk about this.>

How to explain your reasoning…Can you make a zip telepathy file? You try.

When Missy receives it, she gives you a look of disgust. She hasn’t opened it. She sighs and stops the spell, Oom appearing in a puff of smoke.

Her eyes redder than your ass.

“So, like…my guys found this dude? He was treading water in the middle of the ocean…he had this sick story.”

She stares at everyone. Making sure they see her nodding to each of them. She may nod to the same people a couple times.

“Oom.”

“Right, right. Bring him in, guys. Some snacks too.”

They drag in a minotaur with a bag over his head. Well, less ‘dragged’, and more ‘impatiently helped’. He looks like crap. Skinny, bandaged up, not a healthy bull. The guys prop him on a chair and take off the bag. That’s when you see him again.

“Woah, Venture. You’re not looking so hot.”  Venture. Rusty’s underpaid quartermaster and first mate. Hold on, something’s wrong with his mouth. “Did they do this to you?”

He shakes his head.

“You doing go—” No, clearly not. “How are the ships?”

He shakes his head again. Uh oh.

“Please don’t tell me—”

He opens his mouth. No tongue. Ah.  He raises a ringed finger. The ring glows as he draws letters in the air. Hey, neat!

LOST BOTH SHIPS. SORRY.

He’s even apologizing. Now you feel really bad, because you’ve got a nagging suspicion on who found him.

METAL WIZARD FOUND US.

Oh, yup. That’s bad.

HE RIPPED OUT TONGUE. DROPPED ME IN WATER. BLEW UP SHIPS. KILLED CREW. LEFT ME TO DIE.

You’ve got to make it up to Venture. Turns out he was a real loyal guy.

OOMS PEOPLE SAVED ME. GAVE ME RING. I NOW SPEAK IN SILENCE.

Wup.

HAD TO TELL THEM WHAT I KNEW.

Fucker (derogatory)!

“We didn’t get your name though.”

Fucker (flattering)!

“And what he knows isn’t much.” Oom shrugs. “But hey, weird shit happens. Demon, possessed, whatever. We’re all scumbags anyways. Doesn’t change the fact we’re back to square one. What to do with the portal? What are the risks? What are the gains?”

“The minimum gains are survival.” Missy stands. “And the rest is richness beyond compare. I will explain.”

And she does. Pretty well, too. She outlines the volume of trade the portal will bring to Nancy’s Tavern, addresses their worries about competition by highlighting the heavy trade tariff, brings up the formation of alliances. Then she pulls out the heavy hitters. The danger with Prillia, the advantages Haven brings them with intelligence and tech. By the time the magic crackhead finishes regenerating, even he’s begrudgingly convinced.

She finishes off by holding up a copy of the Haven Summoning Tome.

“You’ll be interested to learn that Haven demons are far easier to negotiate with than Niflheim demons. Novice shamans will be less likely to be possessed, dangerous tomes more easily managed. And as an added bonus, the demons will bring over a printing press to make them. We can make our own books.”

Missy drops the tome on the table as a closing statement. It does the trick, and after some tense deliberation, the Pirate Lords vote. Five for, two against, two abstaining.

You fist pump, much to Missy’s irritation.

<There. Now go, we have things to discuss.>

“Now, let’s discuss the potential impact of the lava titan scouring through the New Continent…” Missy starts as you leave the chamber.

Before you leave, you send an unguarded message to Venture.

<I appreciate what you did> He jumps up when your voice whispers in his mind. <I can heal you at the House of Temptation. Free of charge, I promise>

And hey, maybe you’ll finally lose this body’s anal virginity!