Tales of Dylak-Leem - Chapter 6

Chapter 6 - Portrait of the Artist

Justine Coursi woke up naked to a pounding headache and the sour taste of bile in her mouth. Making an unhappy noise, she rolled over and reached to pull the blankets tighter around herself, only to discover there were no blankets. Groaning, she scrunched her eyes tighter shut and tried to go back to sleep.

The smell of frying eggs wafted its way past her nose, and her stomach growled. Someone in the alley behind the house dropped something with a clatter and began to curse in a high, bellowing voice. Reluctantly, Justine concluded that further sleep was going to be impossible and she should probably just get up, as little as she wanted to.

Cracking her eyes open, she confirmed that she was in her room, on her bed. Her memories of how last night had ended were a little hazy. She had celebrated her successful finish of the Turgott commission with Jonas, drinking red wine, the good stuff, from Mordeau in the Abois homeland of her ancestors. They had played some cards, flirted a great deal, and then he had tried to perform for her but was unable to get it up. Too much wine, even after she used her mouth a bit. She had staggered back to her room, gotten out her leather dildo, and fingered herself until she got off. That was about all she could remember, so she must have fallen asleep then.

Sure enough, the fake leather penis was lying next to her on the soiled bed, the one lover who had wound up winning the girl. She grimaced and sat up; at least she didn't seem to have vomited or lost control of her her bowels. For the hundredth time she resolved to stop drinking herself into this state.

Staggering up to her feet, she lurched across the room and stared blearily into her mirror. A woman in her twenties stared back with bloodshot blue eyes; dark-skinned, lean and scrawny, black hair hanging in thick, matted dreadlocks. Aside from the eyes, she didn't look too bad, she thought. Might as well get dressed.

She turned, and rummaged through her underwear drawer. Most of the peoples dwelling in Dylak-Leem wore just one set of clothing and nothing under it; undergarments were deemed for fancy costumes or to dress up whores in. Abois culture, however, viewed them as a basic part of being properly dressed, and Justine always wore them. On went a pair of high black lace stockings, buttoning with straps to a similarly made pair of panties. A bra ornamented with crimson lace roses propped up her respectable bust; she was glad that being tall and bony didn't also mean being flat-chested. Then she covered herself in a green kilt, green blouse, soft leather belt, and a soft blue cap embroidered with golden birds.

Justine looked again in the mirror. Now she saw a respectable-looking artisan looking back. A hungover one, but that could be fixed. With a grunt, she stumped away and out the door, navigating the upper hall and descending the stairs.

As she expected, Jonas was in the kitchen, frying eggs. She was annoyed to see he looked much better than her, cheerful and disgustingly energetic. He waved as she tramped in and collapsed into a chair at the kitchen table.

"Good morning, Justine. It's going to be a lovely day out; I went for a run down to the Slave's Market and the sun was shining and the birds were singing. Beautiful! I'm making eggs, they're almost done. Sorry about last night." He walked over and slid an arm down her waist, his hand slipping up into her blouse. "That little problem's not a problem right now, you know. You want to do it on the kitchen table?"

"Fuck no. Fuck you." She glared at him, and then removed his arm. "The throbbing I've got in my head and you want me to have sex with you? Now? You pig-fucking second rate hack. Go to the fifth hell of bull-rapists. Where is the fucking coffee?"

"I haven't started making it," Jonas said, sounding a little disappointed.

"Well, make it. Fuck. And don't burn the eggs." She groaned, and leaned back in her chair. "I've got to work today. I've got to go out today. I need coffee. Why did I drink so much?"

"I told you not to drink so much."

"I know you did. But you drank too."

"Yeah, but I don't have a hangover," Jonas pointed out.

"You also couldn't get it up last night, dumbfuck. I sucked you like a champion, and you still couldn't get it up. That's definitely the wine, because it sure wasn't me."

"Definitely not you," Jonas said soothingly. "I'm hard just looking at you."

"Fuck you! Stop thinking with your dick and watch the eggs!" She rubbed at her temples. "I should never have started letting you stick it in me. We were better off just as friends and fellow artists."

"There was a lot of sexual tension that way. This way it's all out in the open."

"That's true. There was."

Jonas wrote pornographic fiction for coin. Some of it was commissions, but most of it was penny dreadful folios that could be cheaply produced by the student presses in the University Quarter and which had a wide audience. It didn't pay very much. Justine, by contrast, was an artist. She did black and white sketches to illustrate said penny dreadfuls, but she also had a lucrative ability executing portrait paintings for clients. That was where the bulk of her income came from, even if it wasn't as regular as the illustration coin.

They had a shared interest in the depiction of sex, including the kinkier and less socially acceptable kinds. After working together several times they had become friends, mingling with each other both professionally and socially. When Jonas had lost his old rooming house in a fire, she had let him help pay her rent and move in, and that was when they started fucking - just as a casual thing. They didn't really have a relationship, they simply both got turned on and found the other was convenient and willing.

It was the closest thing to a boyfriend she had, which bothered her a little but not that much. She was married to her art.

Jonas scooped one of the eggs out of the skillet and put it on a plate, which he presented to her. "Here you go. Coffee'll be a bit."

"Thanks." She ate, reluctantly at first, then hungrily. "We have any bacon?"

"No. They had none when I was at the market. Are you going to the Spice Market for pigments today? There's usually a butcher there."

"Yes, I am. I'll pick some up. Better late than never."

"I don't mean to harass you, but the food coin is getting a little low."

Justine scowled, raising her fork. "Has the man from Mister Urdo been by yet?"

"No."

"Fuck. They're late with my payment. I guess I had better go see Egrid and sort that out. Egrid likes me."

"It's good to have Urdo's people liking you. Instead of the other way around. I used to work with a guy who got on their bad side."

"What happened to him?"

"I used to work with him," Jonas said, looking back over his shoulder bleakly. "Used to."

Justine laughed a harsh laugh. "Yes, sounds about right. Those people, they don't fuck around. But they pay their debts. I'll get it sorted."

"Here's coffee." He presented her with a steaming cup.

She took it with eager hands and sipped, burning her tongue. Abois liked their coffee black and strong, and she made sure to buy the best. For all Dylak-Leem's faults, the marshside near it held some excellent coffee plantations. "Oh gods. Thank you, Jonas. If I could drink and fuck at the same time I would spread my legs for you right now. But I can't. You're just going to have to jerk off alone while I drink my lovely coffee."

"You are a cruel, hard woman." He finished frying his own egg and joined her at the table. "I'm going to be working most of the day. I have to have another installment of Orgy of the Orc Raiders done by tomorrow."

"I thought you had a few days on it?"

"Schedule changed, they need it tomorrow. Something with the printers. The fucking almighty printers."

"Right." Printers were a finicky, changeable breed who ruled over the lives of writers and artists gleefully. "Do you know what you're going to do with it?"

"Sort of. After being raped by the four orcish champions, the heroine is going to be chained in a pit with their fighting boar. It's going to fuck her from behind. But in the course of the sex, she's able to get free, and she kills one of the champions as she makes her escape. It ends with them hunting her, naked, through the woods."

"I don't think you've ever done boar-sex before." Justine crinkled her nose. "Don't pigs have corkscrew shaped penises?"

"What? Do they? How does that work?"

"I don't know, but that's what I've heard."

"Fuck!" Jonas stared at her in distress. "Corkscrew shaped? Really? I'm having trouble picturing this."

"Maybe you should go do some research. Go arouse a pig."

"Oh, you bitch, very funny." He put a forkful of egg in his mouth and chewed worriedly for a while. "Damn! Is this common knowledge, do you think? I mean, most of my audience is urban. Will they catch it if I don't mention it?"

"I wouldn't think so. Then again, I have lived my whole life in this city, and I knew. In a general way, I mean." Justine frowned. "Now I'm wondering how they look."

"Fuck. Wait. I have a friend who grew up on a farm. Maybe he'll know."

"Ask him. You have a reputation to maintain."

"I suppose I'll have to. He lives all the way down in the Temple Quarter. I'm going to have to scramble to catch him and get back in time to write this thing." He looked at her sourly. "Couldn't you have just left me ignorant?"

Justine gave him a brilliant smile. "Just trying to improve your work, Jonas. It's for your own good. You'll thank me when it's all over."

"Yeah, right." He moodily gulped down more egg.

Laughing softly, Justine finished the last of her coffee. Her headache was diminished, dispelled by the food and the hot liquid. Standing, she patted him on the head. "I'm going to go to the Spice Market now. Good luck with your story. You can read it to me tonight, so make it sexy. If you get me wet enough, we can try again... without the wine."

"My stuff always gets you wet."

"Sometimes," she told him, grinning. "You've written some terribly dull crap too. Don't rest on your laurels."

He made an injured noise. She responded with a rude gesture, and went to get her boots on.

---

As Jonas had told her, it was a beautiful day outside. Justine lived in a quiet section of town that was mostly inhabited by artisans and tradesmen that lived apart from their shops, or maintained an office rather than a showroom. The streets were reasonably clean and the people were sober and respectable. Rather dull too, she felt, but that was all right. It was the kind of surroundings she wanted for her home, and she'd worked hard to get here.

The streets grew dirtier, and the people more varied as she walked toward the market, with races other than human making themselves known. This was more like the area she had grown up in, a filthy Rat Quarter slum. Her parents had been important back in Abois, and when they'd had to flee they had lost everything, and wound up with almost nothing in the way of marketable skills. They had died when she was young, ground down by the harshness of a life they had never expected to live.

She smelled the Spice Market before she reached it. At the mouth of the Kesarde, Dylak-Leem was the selling point for plantations all along the Whore Coast, and its main market reflected that in the wealth of spices, herbs, drugs, and teas available for sale. A slave block at one end of the market offered a steady supply of condemned and captives to work said plantations, and the market had a number of other services catering to all sorts of needs.

It was to one of these stalls that she went first, a small stand manned by a boy in his late teens with unruly brown hair. He gave her a big smile as she approached. "Hi, Miss Coursi! Here for your pigments?"

"That's right, love." She returned the smile. "I need some deep blue, some burnt umber, and some peach. And a bit of that new crimson you got last month. I don't use that much but makes such a vibrant color."

"I know. Father says all the artists are going to be using it in a year. He orders less of the old red." He got out a scoop and a linen bag, and began to carefully open a wooden bin. "Has business been good for you?"

"Business is pretty good. The steady work, that's just the same as always. That never changes. But the commissions have been ones I've been happy with. I just finished and presented a canvas to a client yesterday. He was happy. I was happy. I got paid in stock, which I'm not so sure about."

"Oh, stock can be very good, unless it isn't," the boy assured her. "Father made a great deal of money buying and selling stock. But then he lost it buying some more, so he gave it up."

"How is your father, Willem? I'm surprised not to see him here. I hope he's not ill."

"Oh, no, he's fine. He just wanted me to get some practice at running the stall on my own. I've been doing it all week, scared I'm going to mess up." Willem laughed, a little sheepish. "I haven't so far."

Justine smiled. "You'll do fine, love."

He finished filling the first bag and started on the second. "Uh... I saw some of your work. In... in one of the red pamphlets." He blushed a bit. "It was really good."

"Why, thank you. Which one was it?"

"The one with the pirate and the lady straddling a barrel while he puts his... uh... you know, while they do it."

"Ahh, my illustration for Corsairs of the Virgin Sea." She shook her head. "Tame. Not my best work. It wasn't a very good story either."

"Tame? Uh... well... I liked it." Willem's cheeks were flaming red. "You're a really good artist."

"Does your father know you read those?"

"No! No. Please don't tell him."

She laughed. "I won't. It's harmless enough for a young man. And I'm glad you like my work."

Willem nodded, scooping peach-colored powder into the third bag. "Miss Coursi... I was wondering... this is just me wondering, just tell me no, it's fine..."

She raised an eyebrow.

He flushed again. "I was wondering if you could.... draw me a picture. Of... of myself with a woman. A beautiful woman. Having... you know."

"Of course I could, Willem. But I'd have to charge you my usual rates; I never work for free. Can you afford that?"

"No. Not right now." He looked almost relieved. "Sorry to bother you."

"That's all right, love. Let me know if you ever do get the coin and want it done." She smiled. "You know, to be sure I had an accurate model, you'd have to pose nude for me."

His eyes grew wide and his expression distressed. "I... I would?"

"And since you wanted a picture of you having sex, you'd have to pose nude and erect."

Willem stared at her in utter panic. "Oh gods. I'm sorry, Miss Coursi. Just forget it."

Justine shook her head. "If you want my advice, Willem, wait until you're older and taller before getting pictures done. Right now, you ought to go out and find yourself a frisky girl and do it for real. That's a lot more fun than looking at art for a young man. Even my kind of art."

"Father'd kill me," Willem said glumly. "There's a girl who works at the cardamom wholesaler three rows down who let me touch her breasts through her blouse. Do you think I should try for more?"

"Yes. Just don't get her pregnant. Your father'd really kill you then."

"Gods, yes," Willem said fervently. He handed her the bags. "There you go. That's seventy-eight Obols."

She paid out the coin. "Perfect. Thank you, Willem. Give my best to your father."

He grinned at her. "I will, Miss Coursi."

"And let me know if you change your mind. How long are you... erect?"

His mouth worked soundlessly.

She laughed. "I'll think about it and tell you my guess the next time I see you. Goodbye!"

He was still blushing furiously when she walked away, chuckling to herself. Willem was a nice boy, but obviously his father had kept him far too shy about sex. She had been that way too once.

That had come to an end... in a filthy alley behind the Temple of the Rat God. A massive, tattooed gang leader and his girlfriend had made Justine go down on her hands and knees in the muck. She had eaten out the girlfriend, tears streaming down her cheeks, while the ganger had taken Justine's virginity and left her bleeding and soiled on the alley floor. That was her first experience with sex, and the next couple of times hadn't been much better.

Some women turned away from intimacy after such an initiation. Justine had grown fascinated by it. Not the act itself, but its portrayal. She had always had a talent for drawing, and through luck she became the student and bedwarmer of a skilled painter. After leaving him, she had found that the market for sexual art was a wide and lucrative one, and had never looked back.

One man she had known had tried to convince her that her talent should be spent on greater things. He didn't seem to understand that she liked drawing people fucking, liked it better than actual sex. Not that she didn't like actual sex too.

She was smiling when she arrived at the butcher's stall. "I need some bacon, Hanne."

The stout woman with the cleaver nodded. "How much?"

"Enough for two people for two days, two meals each day."

"Alright. No credit."

"Of course not," Justine said soothingly. "I have coin."

"Yes, well, you're an artist, one never knows." Hanne dourly began to cut several slabs of bacon.

Something occurred to her. "Hanne, what can you tell me about pig penises? I've heard they're corkscrews."

The other woman missed a cut and just gave her a hard look. "I don't deal with that part of a pig. Except my husband. Why do you want to know?"

"My friend is writing a story, for the red magazines..."

"Disgusting." Hanne gave the cleaver an extra hard swing. "You need to turn your talents to something decent, girl. What you do is just a step up from whoring."

Justine gave the woman a flat stare. "I bet you say that to all your customers."

Hanne shrugged. "You have talent, even I know that. Do something better with it."

"Just cut my bacon."

With a grunt, the other woman chopped in silence, then wrapped the meat and passed it over. "Twenty-three."

Justine placed the coins on the counter and took the package. She left without saying goodbye.

---

Her mood had recovered by the time she arrived back at her townhouse. Jonas was gone, probably off to see his friend, and after stowing the bacon in the cellar she went up to the room that served as her studio. The big easel in the center of the room was empty, her last commission done and nothing new waiting to replace it. Taking a seat at her worktable, she got out her paintbox and mixing tools, and began the slow process of turning pigments into paints.

It was slow, smelly, dull work, and she hummed to herself or sang as she did it; mostly bawdy songs, a few traditional Abois ballads she had learned from her mother. It was the least enjoyable part of her career, but Justine had learned from her mentor to always mix her own paints rather than buy them in jars ready-made. It gave her a greater control over the proportions of ingredients and the hue, and you needed every little edge you could get as an artist.

When the paints were mixed, she fetched some paper and made some practice sketches. You had to keep your hands tuned, even when you weren't working for coin, and she was caught up on all her paid work. Today, inspired by her conversation, she sketched Willem. Her brush quickly outlined the boy sitting on the edge of something, his shirt open, no pants on. Smiling, she reproduced the boy's sheepish, half-appalled, half-excited expression, this time staring down at his own crotch and the rampant erection sprouting from it. She put one of his hands around the shaft; caught in the process of jerking off.

She giggled as she finished. As usual, upon hitting the mark, she found looking at her finished work made her feel a little aroused. She suspected this was definitely not the type of picture Willem had had in mind, but she found it much sexier than a ridiculous portrayal of him as a big stud mounting a beautiful woman. She'd keep this one for her own collection.

A knock at the front door distracted her. Frowning a bit, she hurried down and opened it. "Yes?"

The man on her steps bowed; he was short, greying, and dressed in an expensive set of traveling clothes such as might be worn by a prosperous trader. "Mistress Justine Coursi?"

"That is I."

"I have a commission I wish to discuss with you. May I come in?"

"Of course." She ushered him into the parlor, and sat him down in the best chair. "Would you like coffee, sir?"

"No, thank you."

"What is the nature of the commission?"

"A specific halfling lady, having sex with two bullywugs."

Justine's eyebrows rose at that. The froglike humanoids infested the marshlands around Dylak-Leem; they were primitive, vicious, disgusting creatures. She'd never drawn one, and the prospect intrigued her. "Captive or Guest? Willing, or Rape? Any specific location in the background?"

"Guest... and Willing. The background is unimportant. Maybe a trading ship or warehouse."

"Will the lady be made available to sit for me? And is she willing to pose nude?"

"That's a complication, Mistress Coursi. The lady is not to be aware of the commission."

Hmmm. Justine held firm. "That will double my fee. And I will need some way to get a visual impression of her if I am to do a work that is in any way accurate."

"Can you give a massage?"

Justine furrowed her brow. "I know how, yes. But I am an artist, not a masseuse. Why do you ask?"

"The lady goes daily to a massage establishment to have the stress of the day rubbed away. The owner is willing to cooperate with us. You would fill in for her usual masseuse, which would give you an excellent opportunity to study her features and body."

"You seem to have this all planned out." Justine smiled. "That would work, yes. When could I carry out this undercover massage?"

"Today, if you are free. I will leave you the address and time."

"Very well." She thought for a second. "I know what a bullywug looks like, but I'm unfamiliar with their sexual parts, so I would have to take some liberties in the intercourse. That is not an issue?"

"Not at all. None of our audience will have seen a bullywug penis either. Just so long as they are clearly identifiable as bullywugs, and the lady is unmistakable."

"All right. I accept the commission. Shall we say..." She quoted a price on the high side.

"Done. And double that... if you can finish it before dawn tomorrow."

Double! Justine smiled, licking her lips. That was a lot of coin, and she was certain she could finish it tonight. "Send someone at dawn, then. I'll have your canvas waiting, assuming the lady shows up today for her massage."

"Excellent." The man stood. "I look forward to seeing it. Good day, Mistress Coursi."

"Good day to you, sir." She escorted him to the door, saw him out, and then did a happy little dance. What a fee! And for a commission that sounds kinky and enjoyable. She hadn't done many halflings, and she'd never done a bullywug. This would be good.

She wasn't due at the massage parlor for some time yet. Justine debated sketching a bit more, but decided against it. She needed to go see Urdo's organization about the coin she was owed, and she had just enough time to do it before the appointment.

---

Locking up, she set out into the city, retracing her route towards the spice market. This time, instead of going to the market itself, she made her way down a side street to an unmarked shopfront that looked to be seeing little business.

Inside, she was greeted by a massive figure lounging behind a table, playing solitaire with a pack of dog-eared cards. "Mistress Justine! Hello there!"

"Hello, Egrid," she replied. "I was hoping I'd find you here."

"Yeah, I run the Market office every weekend. I wish I had my sketchbook with me; I wanted to get your opinion on something. I'm not happy with how I'm doing shading on bodies, but I'm not sure how to do it any differently."

"Next time I come, I'll bring you a few half-done sketches showing you several methods."

Egrid was an amateur artist, and had an amateur artist's respect for an actual professional. Justine found the half-orc to be one of the easiest of Urdo's people to work with, although she had once had to firmly move the woman's hand off her butt. Thankfully she seemed to be able to take no for an answer.

"Great. I loved the latest card you did for us. The expression on her face! You always do such vivid expressions."

"Actually, Egrid, that card is why I'm here."

Urdo's operation sold a number of things, many of which had competition. As incentive to buy from the goblin, Urdo's businesses included a pornographic picture about the size of a playing card, that changed every week. They were extremely popular, and some people had even started collecting them.

"I haven't been paid, and it's overdue."

"You haven't?" Egrid frowned. "That's a problem, then. To be clear, your coin never showed up? Or you weren't paid the full amount?"

"It never showed up. I've been waiting for your runner several days now. I don't like to complain, but I depend on that regular coin for my expenses."

"Yeah, perfectly understandable." Egrid mulled it over. "I can't do anything about it right here. We're going to have to go see Lady Tesaiel and have her crack open the books."

"The elf? I've heard rumors about her." She wasn't sure how much of them to credit. "They say she assassinated an elven lord and had to flee the homelands. And that she killed six elvenguard when they tried to stop her. Is she really as frightening as that?"

"You would watch yourself around her," Egrid said gravely. "She's not one to fuck around with."

"Well, if she can get this cleared up, I will be grateful."

"I expect she can. If there's one thing Tesaiel is, it's competent." Egrid stood and yelled into the back room. "Taking care of business! Back in a few."

An assortment of grunts drifted out.

"Muscle," Egrid said as they left. "Not much for conversation."

"I thought you were the muscle?" Justine looked her up and down. "You certainly look like the muscle."

"I'm the thinking muscle. Those guys - they're the non-thinking muscle."

---

The two walked through the Temple Quarter, heading up into the hills.

"Lot of guards on the street," Justine murmured.

"Yeah, someone killed the high priest and priestess of the Third Snake God, in their own chapel, and robbed the place. The Temples demanded the Watch give them extra protection. It won't last... You follow anyone?"

"I'm part of the Rat God's Temple, but I haven't been to services in ages. Not since..."

"...you left the Rat Quarter." Egrid nodded soberly. "Yeah, I can understand that."

"If there was a god of painting I might follow them, but I haven't heard of one." Justine shrugged. "It's not something I think about much."

They walked up the hills, past richer and richer estates, until finally they came to Urdo's manor. Egrid had Justine wait at the gate while she secured the wolves, then ushered her through the yard and into the main house.

She was seated in a small guest parlor while Egrid left again. The half-orc returned a few minutes later with a beautiful, chestnut-haired elven lady in a red and black dress. Rubies sparkled around her neck, and Justine stared, immediately struck by the woman.

Egrid bowed, and departed, leaving the two alone.

"Lady Tesaiel, I assume?" Justine asked.

"Yes. And you are Justine Coursi, the pornographer?"

"Artist," she corrected, cringing inside.

"You're on our roster as 'pornographer'. Consider the title more of a descriptor of what you do for us. What exactly is the issue?"

"If you please, Lady Tesaiel, I came because I haven't been paid for my last piece of work for you. For the organization, I mean. Not you specifically." She was babbling. The elven woman's presence was unnerving her, combined with the rumors. And the fact that Justine, having see the elf, now wanted to draw her naked. "I was hoping I could, um.... get paid?"

"I see. Well, let me check the books." The elf opened a ledger and leafed through it. After a while she frowned. "Mmmm, you're listed as paid, but the funds to pay you were never were subtracted from the vault. Someone's made a bookkeeping error. It happens. More than I'd like. I should speak with Mister Urdo about improving accuracy." She smiled at Justine. "Our sincere apologies for the delay, Mistress Coursi. Shall I pay you now?"

"Yes! Yes, certainly," Justine said, relieved. "Thank you very much, Lady Tesaiel. I was expecting more difficulty."

"Mister Urdo is very good at paying his debts." The elf gave a smile that Justine fancied had a cold edge to it. "Of all kinds."

Justine swallowed - suddenly sure the woman really had killed all those elvenguards. "I-I'm grateful."

Tesaiel walked to the door and leaned out. "Egrid, go fetch her pay from the vault," she commanded. Then she walked back and favored Justine with a rather warmer smile. "You've been working for us three years now?"

"Yes, my lady. It's steady work. I'm glad to have it."

"Do you draw from imagination, or from live models? I don't see models listed as an expense we provide for you."

"I do both, Lady Tesaiel. But for the cards I mostly use my imagination, since the subjects don't have to be anyone specific." She smiled, warming to the topic. "It can be quite amusing coming up with what the card is to show. Keeping it interesting, I mean."

"Have you done other... less racy work?"

"From time to time. But I'm good at nudes and sex, and I enjoy painting them, so that's mostly what I do. There's no shortage of demand."

"No, I suppose not."

Egrid returned, holding a leather bag.

Tesaiel nodded and gestured to the door. "Well, good day, Mistress Coursi. It was interesting to meet you."

"Oh! Oh yes! It was interesting to meet you!" Justine stammered. "You have... I mean you're... uh, thank you, goodbye!"

She beat a hasty retreat, Egrid in tow. The half-orc escorted her back out through the yard, then handed her the leather bag when they reached the street. "It go all right?"

"Yes, thankfully. She's very intimidating. But very beautiful."

"Isn't she?" Egrid made a whistling noise. "She is definitely one of the finest pieces of ass I've ever seen. It's fun to be ordered around by her."

"I'd love to paint her, alone or with a partner." Justine gave a nervous giggle. "My gods, fucking her must be like riding a champion racehorse. I'd put her on top. Or maybe reclining on a divan, pulling her partner down into her. It would depend on the partner. I wonder if she shaves? What sort of face would she make during sex?"

"You probably don't want to explore too far into that," Egrid advised gently. "Like I said, Tesaiel is not one to fuck around with, in real life or on canvas."

"Yes, but allow me my dreams." She looked critically at Egrid. "I should do a study of you, some time. I haven't done many half-orcs, and almost none of them female."

"That'd be neat. Hey, you think maybe I could keep it when you're done? I could hang it up in my rooms."

"Possible. You'd have to pay; I never work for free. But I do give steep discounts to my models."

"Hmm. Well, I suppose that's fair, as long as it's not too much. Talk to me when you want to do it and we'll set something up. I am guessing that I would pose nude?"

"Yes. You don't mind?"

"Nope. Would you be nude too?"

"No."

"Sure?"

"Yes."

Egrid chuckled. "Worth a try." She turned off down the street, waving.

Shaking her head, Justine proceeded home just long enough to drop off her pay. Then she headed back out. It was time for her role as a masseuse.

---

The parlor she was going to was down by the river, and she made sure to keep one hand on her purse as she moved through the crowds. It wasn't surprising that a halfling would frequent an establishment in this area. They were a race given to rivers and boating, and most of the crews of the trade barges were made up of the short folk. She'd known one or two; they'd seemed very like humans. Friendly and a little earthy, until you pushed them too far; then they had a bit of a 'cornered rat' sense to them.

She eyed the place critically when she arrived. The signage was clean, and it lacked the usual indicators that its purpose was more sex than muscle relaxant. After a moment's hesitation, she went in, and headed straight to the back office.

A muscular, balding dwarf, looked up as she entered. "Help you?"

"I'm Justine. An arrangement was made."

His eyes narrowed, and he wiped a bead of sweat from his brow. "Right.... yeah. You ever do massage professionally before?"

"I worked in a shop for a few weeks. It wasn't as nice as this. It was more about the 'happy ending'. But I know the basics."

"Urm. Well, it'll have to do." He sighed. "She'll be in soon, if she keeps her usual schedule. I'll send you to her room. Massages usually last twenty minutes; any more than that's extra. I have a policy of no sex that I hold my employees to, but I look the other way as long as there's no penetration or use of the tongue or lips. Hands only. My clients come here for a rubdown, not a suck or fuck, and that's how I like it. Got it?"

"Understood, boss," she said, privately wavering between irritation and amusement. "What's this woman's name, anyway?"

"Callia. Didn't they tell you that?"

"I'm just the hired help, boss. I don't need to know. I was just curious."

"Heh. Okay, wait here. It shouldn't be too long."

She took a seat, and amused herself for a few minutes by thinking of poses and framing for Egrid. The aftermath of a battle, maybe. Half-clothed amidst the wreckage of war. Maybe holding the leashes of a few captives?

A girl stuck her head in. "Miss Callia's here."

"Put her in Room Three." The dwarf turned to Justine. "Okay, you're on. Do not fuck this up, and if anyone ever asks, I hired you, you worked a day, you quit. Okay?"

"Whatever you say, boss."

He gave her an unfriendly look. "Room Three."

She smiled at him and went to find the chamber in question.

It took longer than she thought - the establishment was on the large side - but eventually she found a door with a large number three written on it. Pushing it open, she walked in. "Good afternoon, Miss. I'm Justine, and I'll be your masseuse today."

The halfling was lying on her back on a table in the center of the room, nude except for a white towel draped over her hips. She had shoulder-length red hair and fair skin, with bands of brown freckles running across her face. Her eyes were a deep green, and sharp. "Are you new? I haven't had you before."

"Yes, I'm new here, although not to massaging." She moved around to gain access to the woman's shoulders. "I'm going to start up at the top. Just let me know if you want anything different."

"Oh, I will," Callia said cheerfully. "Hop to it."

Justine got to work. Her previous experience years ago had been more like prostitution than only massage. But she had been taught how to do a perfectly serviceable rubdown, and she hadn't forgotten. Many of the motions were almost automatic, which was fortunate, as much of her attention was being used to memorize Callia's face and body.

The halfling was surprisingly well-muscled; trim and athletic, and generously proportioned. Justine massaged the stiffness and tension out of the client's neck and shoulders for several minutes, and then reached down and around to knead her firm breasts. Callia sucked in her breath, but didn't object as Justine's fingers explored, testing the size and shape of the mounds and their pink nipples.

"You're very well-proportioned," she murmured. "You must lead an active life, whatever you do."

"Extremely. Always on my feet. Lots of stress." Callia squirmed a bit as Justine massaged down her cleavage, fingertips stroking the soft round globes. "I come here daily to take the edge off. Ahhh, very nice...."

"That's quite wise of you. Take care of your body, and it will take care of you." Justine moved down to the halfling's trim waistline, kneading and occasionally gently pounding. "Do you work inside? With such fair skin, you must burn easily." She was quite taken by the look of her own dark hands on the halfling's pale skin; it was a contrast she found aesthetically pleasing.

"No, I work outside, but out of the sun. When I am in the open I wear a broad-brimmed hat. And I do burn easily. I suppose that isn't a problem for your sort of skin?"

"Oh, I burn, just not as easily as the lighter shades. Not as big a difference as you might think, though." Removing the towel, she moved down to Callia's well-muscled thighs; they were banded with brown freckles spattered across the top of it. She kneaded the muscles slowly, starting at the top and then moving down to her calves. The halfling shaved, she noted, memorizing the shape and color of her labia. She stroked and rubbed the inner thigh, and Callia gave a long, low noise of pleasure.

"Can I pay extra for a special massage?" the halfling asked lazily.

Justine debated the matter for a few seconds, then realized this would be the perfect chance to get a good look at the facial expressions she would need. "Of course, love," she murmured. "Just leave it on the table when we're done." Her hands moved inward from the thighs to stroke the edges of the halfling's womanhood. "You really do have a wonderful body."

"Why thank you." Callia sucked in her breath as Justine's fingers probed. "I'm fond of it myself."

"It deserves a bit of pleasure after such a stressful day." She began to tease the small clit between two fingers. "I'm sure it was a hard day, wasn't it?"

"Oh gods, yes," Callia moaned, eyes closing.

"A long, hard day." She inserted one of her fingers into the halfling's tiny hole, and found it already wet. Slowly, she moved it in and out while playing with the engorged clit, carefully glancing at Callia's face from time to time. The halfling was wearing something between a grimace and a smile, and Justine committed it to memory as she finger-fucked the increasingly slick pussy.

Justine was starting to get a little horny herself. The halfling really was attractive, and her enjoyment of the handjob was contagious. Deciding to give a middle finger to the owner and his precious rules, she bent down and placed her face against the trimmed mound. Extending her tongue, she licked the nub of her clit, causing Callia to make a high-pitched noise of mingled surprise and pleasure. Continuing work on the clit, she moved her mouth to the woman's labia, using her tongue-tip over and over, drawing gasps of delight from her customer. The finger in her pussy was running with liquid now, and she inserted her thumb and began to put pressure on the inner walls with it. 

Callia gave a short, low, throaty cry, and her legs shook. Justine looked up to take note of the expression on her face. The redheaded halfling's pussy clenched around her fingers, and the gush of slickness from her cunt heralded her climax. It was a long, slow, leisurely affair, and at the end of it the small body was as limp as a rag doll.

"There you are, love. Doesn't that feel better?" Justine said gently, withdrawing her hands.

"Much. Thank you." The halfling lay there for a moment, then sat herself up and reached for the towel. "You have skillful hands, for a human." Then the green eyes flashed with a surprisingly predatory grin. "How much is it for you to strip and get on the table with me?"

This was going into territory Justine was not comfortable with. "Sorry. Against the owner's policy. I'd lose my job."

A look of mingled disappointment and irritation flashed on the halfling's face. Callia did not like being denied. "Too bad." She gathered her clothes and dropped some coins on the table. "See you next time."

"Of course, love," Justine murmured.

With a snort, the halfling stalked out, towel wrapped around herself.

Shaking her head, Justine scooped up the coins... waste not, want not... and discreetly left. She replayed what she had seen in her head over and over, committing it to memory so that she could put it on canvas.

---

The walk home was a bit of a blur, so wrapped up in her own thoughts that she didn't notice her surroundings. When she got back to the house, Jonas was home, locked in his room. She could hear the steady scratching of his pen and knew better than to bother him, especially since she wanted to get right to work herself. And the commission was due by dawn.

She set up her easel in her studio, and fixed the scene in her mind. It was going to be aboard a flatboat, with Callia leaning over a crate. She quickly roughed out the lines with a stylus, then got out her paints and set up her palette. A moment's hesitation as she made sure of her marks, and then she set to work with her brush.

She painted Callia first, not wanting to lose the memory of the halfling's trim, curvy body. The freckles and her light coloration combined to cause many distinctive marks on her, and Justine gave her first attention to reproducing them. Then she began to add in the bullywugs; large, bulging-eyed, froglike humanoids. Justine gave one a necklace of skulls, and had it fucking Callia from behind, its webbed hands splayed on her ass.

She painted for hours, wiping sweat from her brow with the back of her hand, growing progressively hornier as she worked, caught up in the unfolding scene. She switched to the second bullywug, thrusting its thick member into the halfling's mouth. Its own mouth was open, its eyes wide and bulging. Switching down to Callia, Justine painted her face around the cock, drawing back the memories of her expression as she had been brought to orgasm. A lustful smirk took form as the little woman sucked down on a mouthful of bullywug penis. Justine licked her own lips, her memory of causing that expression with her own tongue and hands blended into the fantasy she was creating now.

She worked on the background for a time, then went back to do little touches. A dribble of cum down Callia's thigh, a sheen of moisture on the bumpy flesh on the bullywug. Details that added to the realism.

And then, finally, it was done. Justine looked at the canvas and nodded slowly, smiling broadly. It was clearly Callia to the life; more importantly, it was a convincing Callia. Looking at the painting, you thought to yourself that if the halfling WAS being fucked by two bullywugs, that's exactly how she would look, from the expression on her face to the way her back was arched and she stood on her toes.

She got up from her seat and went into the hall. The sound of Jonas' pen had stopped, and she poked her head into his room. "Hey. It's done. Come and see."

"Yeah, okay." He got up from his bed, and walked after her into her studio. For a little while he just looked at it, then he gave an approving nod. "Pretty hot. That halfling's a sexy woman; I didn't know the smallfolk grew beauties like that. I like what you've done with the bullywugs too; they're so... so..."

"Hideous?" Justine said, giggling.

"Yeah."

"It's such a contrast, yes? The lovely pale and freckled Callia. The disgusting bumpy bullywugs. The cock in her mouth and the one holding her ass tightly as he fucks her... Fuck, I'm horny!" She turned to him. "Tell me you haven't been drinking."

He grinned. "I have not."

"Get your ass on my bed and take off your pants."

"Don't I have any say in the matter?" Her eyebrows went up, and he raised his hands. "Right, bed, going."

She followed him into her bedroom, removing her own shirt as she did. "Let's see if you're good for anything tonight."

"Such little faith." Jonas pulled down his pants and sat down on the bed. She could see that he was already hard and erect; there would be no repeat of last night's frustration. With a laugh, she slipped off her kilt, leaving her in stockings, bra, and panties. She stalked forwards.

"You and your underwear," Jonas said, amused. "You're the only woman I know who can take off her clothes and not be naked."

"I'm civilized. I should get you some smallclothes so you can be civilized too." Justine reached around and unbuttoned her bra, letting her breasts fall free. "Then again, maybe I don't want you civilized right now."

She sat down next to him, and his head immediately dipped down to kiss her nipples one by one. She sighed happily. "I finger-fucked the halfling to get her measure."

"Was she any good?" Jonas moved his hands down to tug at her panties.

"She was very hot, a very fuckable body, but of course the pleasure was all hers. I had to wait until I got home. And could throw her to my bullywugs." The panties slid off, revealing an already damp, neatly-shaved pussy. "And their big bullywug cocks."

"That's your pleasure for tonight?"

"Yes." Stradding his legs, she pushed him back and down onto the bed, then took hold of his cock and raised herself. "You can stand in for one." She lowered herself, gasping in pleasure as she was penetrated. Tightening her knees around his waist, she began to move up and down on his cock, her breasts bouncing as she rode. Jonas moved his hands up to grip her by the waist, and she ran her own hands down his chest, making periodic exclamations of passion.

"I had her taking the second one in her mouth," she panted. "And the first right in her tight little cunt. Fuck! Yes! She was an arrogant little thing. But so sexy. Especially being fucked by bullywugs. AHHHH!" She punched Jonas in the chest. "Use your hips! I'm doing all the work here!"

Jonas grunted and began to thrust up powerfully, making the artist cry out happily as she rode him. "Yes! Like that, just like fucking that! Gods! Keep going!"

"I'm gonna cum pretty... soon..."

"No! Don't you fucking dare! I'm not there yet! Keep going!"

"If I keep going... I'm definitely going to cum," he managed, aggrieved. "You're doing things to my cock that make it unavoidable."

"Hold it in. AHHHH! When I've had my pleasure, you get to cum. You should be grateful I am letting you cum in me. That's a privilege."

"Admit it... you enjoy it..."

"Maybe a little... but I have to take a draught after, so there's no child... tastes terrible." She let out a loud cry, bucking up and down on his hips like she was riding a wild bull. "Fuck! Oh gods! Bullywug fucking Callia! Take it while I watch!" Another throaty cry; Justine was a bit of a screamer. "Don't cum yet! Keep going!"

Jonas gave a low groan, and slowed his pace. Justine pinched his nipples, hard, causing him to yelp in pain and quicken again. She gave a loud, deep moan of pleasure, which abruptly changed to a growl as Jonas stiffened, and his cock pulsed inside her as he erupted, sending a hot sticky ribbon of cum into her.

"I told you not to cum, asshole!"

"I couldn't help it!!" His cock was softening as she rode him harder, trying to squeeze out a climax before he was completely useless. With a frustrated groan, Justine realized she wasn't going to be able to get off this way. 

Instead, she shoved him back into the bed, raised herself off him, and hobbled forward on her knees until her semen-dripping pussy was over his face. With a grumble, she lowered herself.

"Use your tongue. Be enthusiastic."

Jonas' reply was wet and muffled, but his mouth went to work. She ground her crotch against his face as his tongue caressed her clit, dipped into her honeypot, and then went back to sucking at her button. It was less satisfying to her than riding his stiff cock, but the stimulation it provided was actually greater. Before long she was breathing heavily and clawing at the sheets. "Fuck! More! Yes! Ahhhhhh gods! Yes!"

Her orgasm blossomed with abrupt suddenness. She gave a long, wailing cry as she pressed herself against his mouth. For several seconds she pinned his head to the bed with her thighs. Then, with her pelvis shuddering, she lifted herself off Jonas and flopped down on the bed next to him. She'd gotten a dribble of cum on her good stockings, she noted with annoyance.

"You need to work on your stamina."

"Justy, when you really get into it, there's only so much stamina can do." He wiped at his mouth. "I got you off in the end."

"I want to get off on a hard cock, not being eaten out," Justine grumbled. "An orgasm with someone inside me is more satisfying on a basic level. Fuck. Now I've got to drink that horrible alchemist's draught."

She heaved herself up and stumbled over to her dresser. She opened a drawer and removed a sealed flask. Opening it, she drank down the contents. "Gaaaaah." She made a face in disgust. "There needs to be something that men can drink to prevent a baby. Of course, nobody would ever trust a man to remember... so I suppose this way is best."

"Probably."

She snorted. "Are you still here? You did what I needed you for. Get out?"

Jonas sighed, and stood up. "Can I put my pants on first?"

"No. Take them with you. Get dressed in your own room. I don't want you here."

"You can be a real bitch sometimes," he said, sounding only half-joking. Then he snagged his pants and shirt and padded out of the room, looking a little sour.

Justine shut the door, feeling pleased with herself. Jonas needed to be kept in his place sometimes. She was the one who paid for the bulk of this house. She was the rising artist. They were friends, but when it came down to it she was the one who wore the pants here. If she wanted to fuck him and then dismiss him when she was done, that's what she would do, and he'd better accept it.

She was sure Callia operated on the same principle. The halfling had a compelling arrogance to her that Justine found immensely attractive. She was sure the two bullywugs she had painted were servants or slaves, and she was gratified that her client had specified it as consensual rather than a rape scene. Not that she didn't get off on rape as well, but given the halfling's personality she felt it worked better with Callia being in control.

Yawning, she rolled off her stockings, and climbed into bed. She had a busy day planned for tomorrow, starting with sending her commission off. Sated and contentedly picturing her latest work, Justine drifted off to sleep.

---

She made certain to get up early the next morning. Sure enough, it wasn't long before there was a knock at her door, and she was ushering the client into her parlor. 

"The painting is ready, sir. I have it here." She pulled a cloth off the easel with a bit of dramatic flair. "To your specifications, I trust."

Her client stared at the picture for a long time, then gave a short, curt nod of his graying head. "That's her to the life. You even got the expression. Excellent work, Mistress Coursi." He took a fat purse from his coat, and handed it to her. "Your fee."

She opened it, did a quick count, and then smiled. "If you require my services again, I would be happy to provide. This was an interesting piece to execute."

"Mmm. We shall see. Do you have a wrapping for the canvas?"

"Yes. Some oilcloth." She carefully secured it around the painting. "Just don't drop it or walk through a street brawl on your way home."

"Hah, yes. I shall be careful." He tucked it under one arm and nodded to her. "Good day."

"Good day to you." Justine didn't ask his name as he left. A lot of her clients preferred to remain as anonymous as possible.

The coins went into her safe, and then she went into the kitchen to fix some bacon for her breakfast. Jonas usually did the cooking, but she could tell he had gone off early, likely to take his story to the red journals and then hang around the offices doing contract work. She'd see him in the evening, hopefully with his contribution to the rent.

She had an appointment this morning, one that paid well but always made her a little nervous. As a consequence she ate slowly, trying to draw out the time before she left. Finally the food was gone, though, and there was work to do. She went upstairs and collected her travelling case of brushes and paints, checked her appearance in the mirror, and then set off through the city.

---

After leaving her own neighborhood and skirting the market and a middle-class shop district, Justine walked down through the edges of the University Quarter, noting with amusement that the sign she'd done for a student alehouse was still intact. The students in this area were a voracious source of employment for her; not directly, but from printers who would resell replicas. Some of the faculty and mages dwelling here had also paid for direct commissions, some for erotic reasons, others for arcane ones.

She passed through, and into a poorly-lit suburb of the city down by a loop of the Kesarde River. Many termed this place the Foreign Quarter; she disliked the label. Her parents, Abois both, had been foreign, and neither of them would have been at home in this place. This Quarter was for the outcast, the unmentionable, the people too rich for the Rat Quarter but too objectionable for the better neighborhoods. And given the level of Dylak-Leems decadence, that was saying a lot.

The roads here were shadowed, and the buildings built according to strange designs. Her step quickened as she went, and she clutched her case a little tighter. Finally she arrived at the front gate of a riverside compound, guarded by two hooded and robed shapes carrying jagged pikes. "Justine Coursi, here by appointment," she told them.

One held out a gloved hand, motioning for her to wait. She did, standing before the gate with mounting unease for several minutes. Finally a woman emerged from inside the compound; she had pale skin and black hair, strangely angular features, and was nude from the waist up, displaying an ample bosom tipped by green-yellow nipples. She wore a dark blue hoop skirt that met the ground, and from time to time beneath it the tip of a tentacle the same color as her areola could be seen. A glistening trail of slime was left in her wake. "Mistress Coursi," she said with evident pleasure. "Can I call you Justine?"

"Of course, Lady Anna," Justine replied, making a little bow. "Your father indicated he had work for me?"

"Yes, his breeding woman is getting ready to spawn. He wants a painting of her and himself in the fullness of her fertility, and then he wants a painting of the new breeding woman, before she's broken in."

"I see." It was about what she'd expected. "He was satisfied with my last work, then?"

"Oh yes, very much so." Anna smiled at her. It was warm, but a little too wide. "He has told me more than once that he thinks you are one of the most talented artists of human-breeding in the city, perhaps the most talented."

"That's very kind of him." Justine was pleased; she had an ego that never tired of being stroked and flattered when it came to her painting. "Has he thought of having you painted, my Lady?"

"He leaves that up to me. I've considered it." Anna gave a deranged-sounding giggle. "Yes, I've considered it. But I have my modesty. Perhaps another day." She made a beckoning gesture. "Come along with me, Justine. I will bring you before my father."

Justine gave another short bow. "Of course, Lady Anna."

They walked into the compound. Well, Justine walked. Anna... it was hard to say exactly what she did under that skirt, but the effect was sort of an awkward glide. If she forced herself to listen very carefully, Justine could hear sort of a moist slithering sound, one that made the hair stand up on the back of her neck. She was careful not to step in the shiny trail of secretion that Anna left in her wake, partly out of cleanliness, partly because she wasn't sure if it was toxic or not. Probably not, but that wasn't something you wanted to take chances on.

The hallways inside were oddly shaped; hexagons with unevenly proportioned sides. Unseen lamps behind rice-paper screens shone a dim, green light that cast strange shadows and played tricks with the eyes. A sweet, spicy odor hung in the air; some sort of smoke, possibly incense. Distantly, Justine could hear sobbing; more distantly still, discordant flutes playing an alien melody.

"We're thinking of expanding," Anna confided as they walked. "Business has been good. We are pleased. Coming to Dylak-Leem was a wise choice."

"I'm happy you are prospering," Justine replied. "Prosperous clients mean prosperous artists."

"Exactly!" Anna said, touching her on the arm in an inappropriately familiar gesture. "You benefit. We benefit. All benefit. All who matter."

"Have you played a key part in this, Lady Anna?"

"Not so great a part as I should like, Justine. Father feels it unbecoming of me to do too much work. He has me sing up the night beasts from the deep swamps, because none are as proficient as I at doing so. It is from them that we obtain much of the Agony Ivory that sells for such great prices in the market. Generally to the folk of the black galleys, who will pay nearly any price for the stuff. Father feels that selling too much to them too quickly may be dangerous, so he does not use me to my greatest potential, which is disappointing. But it gives me much time for leisure, and playing the harp. Have you ever heard me play the harp? I think I am growing very good at it."

"I never have. I fear I'm not familiar with harp music."

"Some time I shall play and you shall listen. Perhaps while you paint. I'm sure painting to music would produce a superior piece."

"It might. Or it might hinder it, if the intents of the two makers were not in accord," Justine replied. "It's hard to predict how such things will mix."

"That is true! You are quite right, Justine." Anna drew to a stop in front of two double doors carved with distorted faces. "Here we are! I shall announce you."

With a fluid, graceful motion she pushed the doors open, revealing a dark audience hall lined with red and gold pillars and lit by green lights. At the far end was a throne of green stone, carved into distorted shapes. Seated upon it was a robed and hooded figure, taller and bulkier than a human, its shape manlike but imperfectly so. A long wooden smoking-pipe protruded from the hood, and the smoke from it hung heavy in the air of the room. Slumped against the feet of the throne was a blonde woman, nude and heavily pregnant, a slave collar around her neck. Her bulging stomach was covered with a sinuous, squiggly, jagged-looking runes in crimson ink, and her face was smiling but distant.

"Honored sire, I bring you the breeding-artist Justine Coursi, whom the city deems a free citizen," Anna proclaimed. "She has come as summoned to hear your needs."

Justine gave a low bow. "Lord Xiib," she murmured.

"yes. good. i greet you, justine coursi. your mind is suitable for my work." The voice from under the hood was liquid and deep, echoing as if it was coming up from the bottom of an old well. "i require two paintings. one of myself and adara in breed-play. the other of my new breeding-slave. adara's time will come before much more time passes, and then the new woman will receive my seed. i wish a memento of how she is before."

"Of course, Lord Xiib. This is Adara?" She nodded to the pregnant woman.

Adara nodded, and smiled back. "I bear Lord Xiib's spawn," she said, her words tumbling into place awkwardly. "He has given me pleasure and made me bear fruit. Soon my time shall come to birth his offspring."

She sounded positively delighted about the prospect, and Justine shivered a bit. She found the commissions she did for Xiib to be a mix of compelling and revolting, as well as a little frightening. "You wish both of you engaged in, ah, intercourse?"

"yes. we shall model for you. paint what you see, with your usual flair."

"Very well." Anna quietly brought in an easel, and Justine set up her paints, running through her checklist and adjusting to the light. Finally she nodded. "Whenever you wish to begin, Lord Xiib."

"adara. come."

"I come, Lord Xiib," the blonde woman cooed. Standing, she turned toward Justine and sat back on the misshapen figure's robed lap, spreading her legs open. Justine saw that she'd shaved her pubic hair bare; that seemed to be universal with Xiib's women. As Justine watched, a greenish-brown stalk emerged from the crotch of the robes, curled around as if sniffing the air, and then slithered to the lips of Adara's pussy. Two gloved hands reached out of the robes to rest on the rune-marked, distended belly, holding Adara against him. Then the stalk pushed between her pussy lips, and thrust its way inside, causing her to gasp in delight. Slowly, leisurely, the tentacle undulated, moving in and out as Xiib began to fuck the pregnant woman. She straightened her arms, holding on to the throne as she leaned back and bounced gently up and down in his lap. Her eyes rolled up in their sockets, her tongue hung out like a dog, and she began to make moaning, happy noises.

Justine watched carefully, noting the bounce of the full breasts and the swollen belly. She began to paint, first in broad outlines, then getting into the details. She grew progressively more and more aroused as she did. The fact that Xiib remained more or less unseen only heightened it, and she licked her lips nervously as she painted, wiping a bit of sweat from her brow with the back of one hand.

Off to the side, Anna took up a harp and slowly began to strum it, playing a discordant, siblant melody. The music blended with the moaning and steady rustle of cloth, with the sound of the brush on the canvas. Trails of sweat ran down Adara's bloated belly, and Justine painted them faithfully, along with the froth bubbling from her sex and wetting the penetrating organ. The pregnant woman began to sway a bit in time to the harp, and Anna smiled a too-wide smile at Justine that made the artist painfully aware of her own desire. She was more than a little wet.

The painting took some time, and throughout Xiib continued to bounce his breeding woman at a slow, steady clip, not slowing or tiring. Adara seemed to be in a state of mindless bliss, eyes closed, making soft mewling sounds. Finally, Justine put down her brush. Her panties were quite damp, and she felt the painting was worthy of her fee.

"I believe that should be sufficient, Lord Xiib."

"good."

The stalk withdrew from Adara's pussy, coated in a wet, milky white substance. The pregnant woman slumped like a puppet with cut strings. Anna slithered over to carefully lift her from her father's lap and lay in her original position at the foot of the throne.

"anna will take you to your second commission." A long thoughtful pause. "if you wish to sell yourself, you may speak to her about price."

Justine bowed. "Thank you for your patronage, Lord Xiib."

Anna moved forward, helping the artist gather up her case, and the two them them backed out of the audience hall and proceeded through the compound.

As they walked, Justine frowned and glanced over at her escort. "Lady Anna? May I ask a question?"

"Of course, Justine."

"What did your father mean about selling myself?"

"Oh, we could both smell your sexual arousal watching him breed-play with Adara. Since that is to your liking, my father was magnanimously offering to let you sell yourself to us as a breed-slave. Probably not his primary breed-slave, like Adara, but he would certainly breed you vigorously on occasion."

Justine nearly stumbled in sudden panic. "I-I, uh, that's.... that's very generous, Lady Anna, but... my art, I have to think of my art first. Yes. I couldn't take... breeding time off...and let down my many clients." Gods no, she silently thought to herself. She got off on Xiib's amorous coupling with other women, but that didn't mean she wanted to experience it for herself, especially since all of Xiib's partners that she had met didn't seem to be quite all there. Happy, yes, exceptionally happy, but not all there.

"That doesn't surprise me, Justine. You seem so dedicated to your art. Very admirable to put it ahead of your own physical urges." Anna stroked a hand along Justine's back, making the artist shiver a bit at the familiar gesture. "Father pleases his women so very much. He loves humans, and they adore him, crave his touch. He must see something pleasing and arousing in you to make the offer."

Oh gods. "I'm flattered, of course," Justine murmured, forcing herself not to run.

"Of course."

They arrived at a door. "Her holding room. I will let you go in alone, Justine. My presence seems to upset her for some reason. I'm not sure why. I will wait outside for you to finish, then guide you out of our home."

"My thanks, Lady Anna," Justine replied, and went inside.

The room was simple, consisting of a bench, a bed, an easel, a bucket for the disposal of wastes, and two chairs. A young woman sat nude on the bed; she was brown-haired, tired-eyed, and bore a haunted look. When she saw Justine clearly, a look of relief spread across her face. "You... you're human? A normal human?"

"Yes. My name is Justine." She took a seat at the easel, and made sure the canvas was suitable. "What's your name, love?"

"Egwynne. I've been here for days. Are... are you here to get me out?" Her tone was hopeful.

"No, I'm just a painter, love." The canvas looked in order. She began to organize the colors.

"You have to do something. I'm not supposed to be here." There was a hint of panic in Egwynne's voice. "This is a mistake."

Justine looked at the girl more carefully. She bore the expected collar on her neck. "Weren't you condemned as a slave?"

"Y-yes..."

"What for?"

"Murder. But I didn't mean to," Egwynne hastily added. "I just wanted to push her in the water. She hit her head..."

"Then there's no mistake, love. Lord Xiib bought you legally. You're his property." She gave the woman what she hoped was a reassuring smile. "Better to make the best of it. There's nothing you can do."

"There has to be something!" The woman was wild-eyed. "Do you even know what he is?"

"No, love. I've never asked. Never got a good look under the robe and hood. But he can breed with humans, though. His partners seem to enjoy it, if that's any consolation."

"I don't WANT to enjoy it! Gods, please get me out of here! Please!"

"There's nothing I can do for you, love. I'm just an artist." Justine lifted a brush. "Can you sit up on the edge of the bed and hold still?"

"What if I don't?" Egwynne's voice was angry.

"Then I'll call Lady Anna and tell her you won't cooperate."

"Bitch." Egwynne's voice was a whisper. "You're just another servant of theirs, aren't you?"

"I'm just an artist, love. I paint. That's all. It's my job."

"Yeah. Just doing your job." She sat up on the edge of the bed, expression sullen. "Fine. Paint."

Justine did.

Egwynne had a trim, athletic figure, she noted, with a distinctive scar on her upper left hip. Larger than normal breasts; Xiib seemed to prefer busty women. Justine faithfully reproduced the frightened, defiant expression on her face; she bet the odds were it wouldn't be looking like that after being fucked a few times by Xiim and his tentacle cock. She moved down to paint the bushy brown hair covering the woman's mound. "You'll probably be shaved down below. He likes his women bald down there."

"Speaking from personal experience?" Egwynne's tone was half-vicious, half-curious.

"Sort of. I'm never been with him, but I've seen him in the act. All of his women I've seen have had hairless pussies."

"Was it... was it painful for them?"

"The sex? No. Like I said, they seemed to enjoy it a great deal. More than I would expect, like two humans going at it. maybe something in his seed."

Egwynne shuddered. "And... the women get... children?"

"Yes. Sort of. There's only been the one child I have ever seen, the Lady Anna. I don't know about the others. I understand they have homes in the compound."

"Bred once and then discarded?" Her voice held fear and bitterness.

"Perhaps, love. Sorry." Justine finished the painting's last few strokes. In her mind's eye, she put Egwynne on Xiib's lap, bouncing and panting. She liked the image very much. "I'm about done here. Would you like to see it?"

"I suppose."

Egwynne got up and came over. For a time she stared at herself, sitting naked in the canvas, captured in a way that showed her feelings yet highlighted her body and the uses to which it could be put.

Finally she turned to Justine. "You're a pervert."

"Yes, love." Justine smiled back at her. "I am. Was there anything you wanted me to pass on to Lady Anna? They'd probably bring you special food or extra bedding if you asked."

"Look... I'll do whatever you want. Anything, no matter how dirty. I don't usually like women, but I'll do anything you ask me to, just get me out of here!"

"I'm just a painter, love. And a pervert." Justine got up and gathered up her case. "Goodbye."

She slipped out the door. Anna was waiting for her. "All done?"

"Yes. She was a little difficult, but I finished it up."

"A lot of them are like that when they first come here," Anna confided as they moved through the compound. "Father's love straightens them out."

"I see." Whatever it was, Justine doubted it was love.

They entered a small, dimly lit parlor, and Anna closed the door behind them. "Justine, I have a great favor to ask you. I think so highly of you, and I was sure you could help me?"

"What can I do for you, Lady Anna?" Justine looked around nervously. She noted that there were no other exits.

"I have decided to become sexually active. I immediately thought of you."

Oh. Oh gods. Oh gods. "T-That's... I-I mean.... I'm s-so flattered, Lady Anna!" Justine babbled. "B-But I don't think... I'm not a suitable mate..."

Anna laughed, placing a hand on Justine's hip. "Oh, I'm so sorry, Justine, I hadn't meant to imply I wished to couple with you. Although you are comely, in your own way. I merely wished to get your advice. As a great breeding-artist, you must be an authority on the subject. And so... well suited to advise me."

Relief flooded her. "Oh! Yes! I would be delighted to advise you, Lady Anna! What do you wish my opinion on?"

"I would like to seek someone also after a tryst, rather than compelling a slave to do it, for my first time. I understand one's first time should be special. Do you think I should lose my virginity to a man, or a woman?"

"Well, do you have any preferences of genders?"

"Oh, I find both types of human delectable," Anna enthused. "It's so hard to pick."

"Well..." Justine thought. "Male anatomy is better suited by nature to performing a penetrating sexual act with a woman. My own best times have always been with a man. But women know how the female body works, whereas many men either don't know what gives you pleasure, or don't care." She frowned. "But that's with full-blooded humans. I hope I'm not being rude, Lady Anna, but I don't know your anatomy."

Anna blushed, and turned her head shyly. "May I show you, Justine? I'm usually very modest, but you are an expert."

"Of course, love." 

Still blushing, Anna undid the blue skirt and pulled it away.

Justine stared, her mouth gaping open for a second, freezing in sheer shock and a bit of panic. Then she forced her mind to work. "Uh... I... I see. Well. First.... first I think I need you to point out to me, uh, which of all that are your erogenous zones."

"This tentacle. And the tips of this one and this one. And this orifice, but it's lined with a corrosive acid. And my breasts."

"I see. Corrosive acid. Erm." That ruled out male penetration. "Do you have an anus?"

"Yes. Down here."

"Is that filled with acid?"

"No, but it's not an erogenous zone." Anna's cheeks were bright red.

"Well, I think I definitely have to recommend your first time be with a woman, then. There simply isn't a human man that can insert his cock and give you pleasure with the... acid. Whereas those tentacles can be inserted multiple places for mutual pleasure."

"I see. That makes sense." Anna smiled her too-wide smile at her. "How would I go about having sex with a woman?"

"Well... how well can you control those? Move them around for me... hmm, pretty good control, it looks like." Justine dug out her sketchbook. "I'm going to do some instructional drawings, if you don't mind."

"Oh, please do."

Justine drew with quick, brisk strokes. "You're going to use that main tentacle there for vaginal penetration. Move it in and out of her pussy briskly. Pay attention to her clit. Its a nub at the top. You might wish to use the tip of your left one there to stimulate it, like I'm showing here."

"Oh. Oh my, I see." Anna stared at the page wide-eyed as Justine rapidly produced several figure sketches. "That looks... clear enough. And you have the right one..."

"The right one can play with her breasts, maybe to her mouth. None of your limbs secrete acid, right?"

"Right."

"So she can suck that tentacle tip while you work on her pussy. You can see I have you both lying on your sides, here, but you could do it in other positions as well. I recommend your sides for the first time though." Justine worked a bit more, then smiled. "Are the drawings clear, love?"

"Perfectly! They give a wonderful picture." Anna stared at them for a time, cheeks still flushed. "You know, the other woman in these sketches resembles you a great deal, Justine."

Oh gods. She had used her standard model without thinking, the one who was based on herself. "I... uh, any resemblance is accidental."

"It really does look like you, though. May I keep these?"

"O-Of course." There was no graceful way to say no.

"Do you look like that without your clothing, Justine?" Anna's hand moved up to touch Justine's left breast through the blouse and bra. One of the green-yellow tentacles curled around her lower calf. "Could I see?"

Oh gods. Oh gods. "I-I don't.... I never have sex with... with patrons, Lady Anna. I'm very flattered. I'm sure it would be an experience I'd never forget."

Anna giggled, and patted her on the head. "I tease, Justine. Although you intrigue me. Perhaps when I am an experienced lover I will seduce you. Then we will lie together like in these drawings. When I know what I am doing. But for now I remain an innocent virgin. In your line of work, Justine, surely you know many beautiful women with exotic appetites?"

"I know a few." She did. She had painted women who indulged in every sort of vice, some openly, some secretly.

"Do inform some of them that I am interested in a discreet night of passion. Arrange a match, if you will. Can you do that for me, Justine?"

"I will try, Lady Anna. I can make no promises for success." She knew two or three women who might be intrigued enough to take up such an invitation. If they asked for a sketch of Anna's lower half it might be a hard sell. "I'll certainly put in a good word for you."

"I knew I could rely upon you, dear Justine." Anna embraced her, and before she could react gave her a peck on the lips. As Lady Anna's wide mouth met her own, Justine felt the tip of a tentacle press against the bottom of her damp panties, adding a bit of slimy lubrication to the black lacy fabric. She trembled, her muscles tightening, but Anna released her and pulled away, still smiling.

"I will walk you to the front gate now," Anna told her. She carefully put her blue skirt back on.

"Thank you," Justine replied with relief.

They went through the green-lit halls of the compound, Justine still shaking a little, and emerged at the front gate. Anna presented the artist with a cloth bag containing her fee, which Justine accepted with a murmured thanks. Then Anna leaned in, placed one hand on Justine's ass, and whispered in her ear.

"Remember the drawings you did of us, Justine. Picture them real, in the fullness of time. I shall be studying them hungrily." She giggled, blushing madly.

"G-Good day, Lady Anna," Justine said, and hurried away.

Justine made it out of the Foreign Quarter and then stopped, leaned against a wall, and waited for her heart to stop pounding and her legs to stop shaking. She had to stop doing jobs for Xiib. She had to. Even if it paid well and the pieces turned her on.

For several minutes she stood there. Then she carefully arranged the cap on her head, adjusted her kilt, and strode on, eager to get back to her townhouse.

---

Jonas was still gone when she arrived, but she was in for a surprise. Egrid Hardtusk was loitering on her doorstep, idly sketching. "Egrid! What brings you by?"

"Oh good, Mistress Justine. The boss has a commission he wants you to do. I'm supposed to walk you down to the manor." Egrid didn't sound enthused, which worried Justine a bit.

"Something the matter with it?"

"With the commission? No. But you really kicked an anthill, Justine. I hope you know what you're doing."

Justine's eyebrows shot up. "Kicked a what? What are you talking about?"

"That painting of Callia, of course."

"You know about that?"

"Half of fucking Dylak-Leem knows about that, Justy. The painting's on display by the docks and it's been widely reproduced. Callia and her people are fucking enraged."

Justine felt a cold feeling take hold of her bowels. "Wait... Egrid, who is she? What do you mean her people?"

"You didn't KNOW?" Egrid stared at her. "Come on, let's head for the manor. We can talk on the way."

"All right." Justine followed the big half-orc swordswoman as they left her door. "So who is she?"

"A smuggler, big-time. They call her the un-crowned Queen of the Bullywugs for her connections with the local tribes. Nobody's ever proven it, but she's held to have been behind more than one raid on caravans and flatboats going through or near the swamps, maybe even some plantation burnings. Mean little bitch. She has her fair share of enemies, and I guess they decided this was a nice way to smear her."

"So she'll want revenge against those enemies, right?"

"Oh, definitely, but she might well hold it against YOU, too. You've always done good work for us, so it was suggested that you spend the afternoon working on a commission for Mister Urdo and his household, just to send a definite message of whose faction you belong to." Egrid placed a muscular arm around Justine's shoulders, and her scarred hand clamped tightly around the artist's arm. "And you are our woman now, Mistress Justine Coursi. You don't really have any other options. We'll use a light touch. You'll barely notice it. Just sometimes we'll need a job, and doing it won't be optional. Understand?"

Justine swallowed. Egrid had always seemed so big and friendly and nice, but her voice was the unsympathetic one of someone explaining an immutable law of nature. It was the same one Justine had used to talk to Egwynne. No, it was harsher than that. Justine had been detached in her explanations. Egrid was asserting ownership personally.

"I understand," she said in a small, tight voice.

"Good girl," Egrid said. "I really wish I could watch you paint this picture. You'll enjoy it, I bet. Watching a master at work on something like this would be swell." She sounded wistful. "I'll probably get to see the finished product, at least."

"Am I going to have to do anything illegal, Egrid?"

"Today? No. Probably not in the future either. Don't worry about it. We won't ever have you do anything you can get in trouble for. You managed that on your own." Egrid shook her head. "I thought you had more street sense than this, Justy."

"So did I. I guess I just got greedy. The pay was really good, the commission intrigued me, and there was a deadline. And she didn't look dangerous." Justine sighed. "I guess I'm going to be paying for this for a long time to come."

"It's not so bad. I've been working for the organization for a while now, and I like it just fine. Like I said, we won't ask much. You can still keep all your regular clients and do freelance work. Maybe you'll even like the work."

A ganger had once said something like that before raping her painfully up the ass, back in the slums of the Rat Quarter. She took Egrid's speculation of liking it, with about as much optimism as she'd taken that one.

They finally came to the gates of Urdo's manor. After securing the krav wolves that roamed the grounds, Egrid led her inside, through the foyer, and then upstairs to a parlor with a pair of red divans and several chairs. An easel was already set up in the center of the room. "Wait here," Egrid instructed. "Someone will be in for you in a bit."

"All right." Justine took a seat on one of the divans. "Thanks."

"No problem. Have fun." With a short wave, Egrid departed.

Justine sat and looked idly around the room. The furnishings were rich, and the chamber was papered in crimson velvet. A crystal chandelier lit the chamber, and richly patterned rugs were on the stone floor. A cabinet nearby looked like it held drinks and possibly food, but she didn't dare touch it.

She supposed she would be a frequent visitor here, now. What a wretched turn of events. Justine had prized her independence, and losing it over some offended halfling skank made her fume.

The door opened, and Lady Tesaiel entered, clad in a red dress with gold bands and jewelry. Hastily, Justine rose to her feet and bowed deeply. "M-My lady! I hadn't expected to see you."

"Oh?" Tesaiel's expression, which had been forbidding and irritated, quirked with amusement. "I see Egrid told you little."

"Only that I was to do a commission, partly for my own protection. For which I am very grateful."

"Yes. You are either braver or stupider than I had thought, Mistress Coursi. Perhaps a little of both." Tesaiel sighed, annoyance returning to her features. She stared at Justine for a second, and the artist felt herself cringe under the elven gaze. "You are to paint me today."

"I... I see." That was unexpected, and exciting. Justine bit her lip. "What sort of painting?"

"A nude." Tesaiel did not sound enthusiastic.

"I see. Are you to be engaged in a sex act with a partner, a solitary masturbation, or simply posing?"

Tesaiel's eyes flashed angrily, and she clenched one hand in an angry gesture. Justine flinched. But the elf seemed to remember herself, and shook her head. "You are a pornographer, after all. That is a reasonable question to ask."

"Y-your servant, my lady," Justine stammered. She didn't want to wind up like those rumored dead elvenguard.

"No sex. Just touching. One hand, on my lower region." A slight bit of color came to Tesaiel's cheeks. "In a tasteful way."

"Of course." That was technically masturbation, but she wasn't going to press the point. Not at all. "You are ready to pose for me, my lady?"

"Yes." Tesaiel bit the word off with obvious difficulty.

Justine was thrilled, but worried about her subject's attitude. Especially given how dangerous she was. "I'm here to serve you, my lady, and to compose a painting that flatters your beauty and comports to your wishes," she said in earnest tones. "Can we work together to achieve this?"

Tesaiel sighed. "That is a reasonable request, I suppose. This is just... difficult."

Justine leaned forward. "You have a beautiful body, my lady. I'll show it off to its best advantage. If the painting is to be kept private, it can serve as inspiration to those you hold dear, or even for yourself. Sometimes a lady needs to see herself as others see her, lovely, nubile, made to be desired and loved." She broke off, wondering if she'd said too much. 

The elven noble looked at her thoughtfully. "You give a good speech, for a pornographer. You put a great deal of passion into your work, don't you?"

"Yes, my lady. I wouldn't do anything else, not for love or coin."

"Strange, but I admire the commitment if nothing else." She sighed. "What do you wish me to do first?"

"First, get undressed, and we will decide how to pose you."

Tesaiel nodded, and slowly stripped off the red dress. Justine's eyes ran over her body, drinking in the details. She had been right; the woman was exquisite. Even her pubic hair was perfect; red-gold, and trimmed neatly and precisely. "I'd like to leave the jewelry on, my lady. Is that acceptable?"

"Yes. I picked pieces that I felt flattered me."

"They do, very much so." They would serve as accent marks on the elven woman's bare body. "Sit on the divan, if you please."

Tesaiel did, gingerly, and Justine stared at her, thinking furiously. How best to do this...

Finally she got up and walked over. "I'm going to pose you, Lady Tesaiel. If that's all right?"

"I suppose."

Justine nodded, and described the pose as she instructed the elf to move. She pushed against her shoulder to move the elf to a reclining position on the divan. With a sense of mounting anticipation, she placed her hands on the elven lady's thighs and spread them apart, angling one leg down off the couch, and letting the other one rest arched on the cushions. The feel of Tesaiel's smooth skin under her fingers fed her growing arousal, and she tried not to show any signs of it as she adjusted the elf's shoulders and turned her head. Then she moved Tesaiel's right hand down to her pussy. "Place your fingers at the lips, opening them."

"Yes, Mistress Coursi." Tesaiel's voice was a little strained.

"Good. Now we'll move your other hand up here to your breast. Squeeze there. Good. Thumb on the nipple. Excellent." Good gods the elf was delectable. "Are you comfortable? Can you hold this pose?"

"If you wish, Mistress Coursi." There was a certain huskiness in Tesaiel's tones that Justine's imagination assigned all sorts of erotic meaning to. Smiling at the elven woman, Justine took a seat at the easel and began to paint.

She did the divan first; then the curved, soft body draped over the red cushions. The color of the couch contrasted nicely with the rubies in the jewelry and the red-gold curls that surrounded Tesaiel's fleshy labia in a perfectly clipped lawn. From the practiced way Tesaiel held her petals, she was no stranger to finger-play.

In her mind's eye, she suddenly added Anna to the scene, pictured Xiib's daughter bending to embrace the sleek elven form, her tentacles sliding up the long elven legs to the trim thighs, and from there... Oh gods, she was horny. Justine licked her lips and brushed some sweat from her forehead. She had to draw that, some other time. Not now though. She had to stay focused.

She painted the curve of the generous breasts, the hand teasing one areola. The painting was coming along well, very well. Now the face... she looked at Tesaiel and frowned for the first time. "My lady, do you have a lover? One who can give you pleasure? If not now, then perhaps in the past?"

"I... maybe. Perhaps." Tesaiel seemed conflicted.

"I want you to think of being pleasured by them, of giving them pleasure in return, and let your face reflect your thoughts."

"I... that's..."

"I'm sure you can do it, my lady." Justine's tone was encouraging, but definite.

"Yes, Mistress Coursi." Tesaiel screwed her eyes shut. After a minute, Justine began to note the signs of arousal on the elven noble. The skin on her chest was flushed. Her face took on an expression that made Justine grab her brush. She would have to imagine the eyes open, but...

With a flurry of brushstrokes Tesaiel's face slowly took form on the canvas, and Justine worked feverishly. Finishing touches were made, along with a few changes. Finally, Justine put down her brush. "We're finished, my lady."

Tesaiel opened her eyes and moved her hands to be held crossed in her lap. Her body bore the flush and marks of arousal; Justine though she saw a wetness around her lower lips. Clearly she had taken to her mental assignment with vigor. "You have everything you wish, Mistress Coursi?" The tone was languid, almost post-coital, and Justine wasn't entirely sure that it wasn't a double entendre. No, she was definitely letting her over-sexed imagination run away with her.

"Come over here, my lady. Have a look," she replied.

Standing, Tesaiel walked naked to stand beside Justine at the easel. She stared at the painting. On it, the elven woman lay draped in open sexual invitation, thighs open and arched, labia spread. As she played with one breast, the painted Tesaiel gazed outward at the viewer, smiling a smile that spoke of confidence, arrogance, desire, and naked hunger. Her aura of dominance seemed to jump off the canvas.

"Do I really look like that, Mistress Coursi?" Tesaiel finally asked, sounding rather pleased.

"Yes, my lady. Quite magnificent, if you don't mind me saying so."

"You are a flatterer, Mistress Coursi. With your brush even more than your clever tongue, I think." The elven woman studied it carefully. "I had worried that the painting and the pose would lack dignity. But you seem to have preserved that, for which I am grateful, and a little amazed."

"If I may be so bold, the woman on this canvas does not need clothing to prop up her dignity. She desires, and she commands the viewer to meet those desires according to her will. She offers untold bliss to those who serve her well, pleasures of which they are entirely unworthy."

Tesaiel smiled, blushing very slightly. "You would make a formidable suitor, Mistress Coursi. You know how to tell one such nice things."

"I'm wed to my art, my lady. But I admit I have had some success in love, from time to time." This was basically a lie; Justine's personal sex life had largely consisted of rape, whoredom of one kind or another, and meaningless sex between friends. She didn't want to admit that to Tesaiel, though.

"I'm sure. You have served me well, Mistress Coursi... although I'm afraid I will not be offering you untold bliss today, just a fee. I'm sure I shall be seeing more of you in the future. The gods know you've already seen enough of me." Tesaiel patted Justine lightly on the shoulder, then walked over to the divan to pull her dress back on.

Justine watched the elven lady put the dress back on. She was wound up with desire and the thrill of creation, and rose from her seat at Tesaiel's gesture. "Am I finished, my lady?"

"Yes, you're done here. Walk out to the foyer. Do not go outside. Egrid will secure the pack and then take you home."

"It must be inconvenient, for you to need those brutes secured every time you wish to step out," Justine offered.

Tesaiel turned, and shot her a look that Justine could only call wicked; sexual and threatening at once. "Oh, the pack doesn't bother ME," she said, voice dripping a private amusement.

Justine swallowed. "Yes, my lady."

Tesaiel opened the drinks cabinet and extracted a wineglass. She motioned at the door, and Justine hurriedly bowed deeply and left.

Egrid met her at the foyer. "Was that fun?"

"Fun isn't quite what I'd call it, but it was amazing."

"Come on. I've got the wolves penned." They hurried through the yard, then Egrid excused herself to release the caged beasts. She returned smirking. "I'll walk you home."

"Thank you." They strolled along silently for a while, then Justine looked over at Egrid. "Ever seen her naked?"

"Oh yes."

"Wow, what a body. She's a very sexy woman."

"You said it. What I wouldn't give for a night of that."

"To hell with fucking her. I got to paint her!" Justine hugged herself. "Oh gods, it was good. I kept getting ideas for other ways I could do her. With a partner. Oh gods, maybe one day she'll let me do her with a partner. I want to paint her as she makes exquisite love to someone. I'm wet just thinking about it."

"You're a strange woman, Justy. But a strangely attractive one. If you're wet, want me to come inside when we get to your place?"

Justine hesitated. She didn't find Egrid attractive in that way, beyond the artistic eroticism she would have when paired with a beautiful male. But Urdo's organization had staked a claim on her, and she wasn't entirely sure it was safe to turn down Egrid's offer.

"That's all right," she finally said, gambling. "I'm just going to work on a project while I'm inspired."

Egrid looked disappointed, but seemed to take it in stride. "Fair enough. I'll head back and look at your picture before it vanishes into Mister Urdo's private gallery."

Interesting. "I was fairly sure it wasn't for public viewing," Justine said.

They reached her house, and Egrid waved. "Good luck with your project, Mistress Justine. Be seeing you." She smirked. "Welcome aboard."

Justine's return smile was a bit wan. Turning, she went up into her house.

---

She could hear the scratching of a pen from Jonas' rooms, but ignored it. She went straight to her sketching easel and began to draw. Tesaiel's form leapt from the canvas, then Anna's sinuous lines. The elven lady had her head thrown back, gasping in startled pleasure, as Anna's main tentacle ran up between her thighs, and her two secondary erogenous ones slid to ass and breast, leaving a glistening trail of slime on the flawless skin...

"Oh fuck yes," Justine silently groaned, stopping work briefly to finger herself. She was nearly done anyway, and she stared raptly at the sex act her inks had called up. Until this moment she hadn't realized how compelling Anna was as one half of her pairing. Usually she had two different people to contrast Beauty and Grotesque, but Anna contained the two within her own single body. It was horribly arousing to Justine, especially when paired with Tesaiel's perfect charms.

For the first time she actually entertained thoughts of sleeping with Anna. The notion sent a shudder of fear and disgust down her spine, but it did turn her on as well. It was better and safer to keep Xiib's daughter as the subject of pictures. Justine fingered herself more urgently, whimpering slightly. She had to get Anna to pose for a copulatory painting. Starting tomorrow she'd get to work finding her a woman. Painting them would be wonderful.

She stood, taking her hand out of her kilt, and skipped down the hall. "Jonas! Get in my room. I have needs for you to satisfy."

"I have a deadline, Justine." The door didn't open. "I can't go fucking away my drive tonight. It's impossible to write this shit if I'm not horny. Sorry. Ask me in the morning."

"Damnit! Gods damn it!" she raged. "Why the fuck did I send Egrid away?" She stomped back to her room, and reached for the leather dildo.

She lay on the bed for several minutes, stroking and pushing, quivering with a mixture of intense desire, lust, worry, and frustration. When she achieved orgasm, it was a slow jagged thing, leaving her curled in a fetal position and hiccuping for no good reason. She felt horribly lonely and empty, and tears started to come to her eyes.

Then she thought of Tesaiel's body. Getting up, she took the sketch she had done and lay down on the bed with it, holding it. It was just a sketch, but it was good... she was so good, so skilled, and Tesaiel had recognized that... maybe one day, she would show Tesaiel the pictures of her and Anna, and get them to do a live modeling session...

Wrapped in her fantasies, Justine cradled the sketch and drifted off to sleep.

---

When she came down for breakfast the next morning, Jonas smiled at her. "Morning Justine. Sorry I couldn't help you out last night. Still interested?"

"No. Give me coffee." She trudged to the table, yawning.

"Coffee coming up." Sure enough, before long she was presented with a piping hot mug of black liquid, which she blearily gulped. "Let me know if you want to have some fun once the coffee's done. I spent most of the night writing kinky boar-sex and I want to fuck you."

"How did you handle the issue of the corkscrew?"

"I just didn't mention the dick. I lingered on every aspect of the sex EXCEPT the dick. You have no idea how hard that was."

"The dick?"

"Avoiding the dick."

"I bet SHE wishes she could have avoided the dick." Justine leered at him, then took a long sip of coffee. "Tell you what. I'm not in the mood now, but I'm going to run to the market to get some fresh pigments. When I get back, I'll read your piece. If it turns me on, you can pretend to be an ambiguously-dicked boar. Deal?"

"Deal." Jonas chuckled. "It'll turn you on. It's pretty good stuff, considering the limitations and how formula the whole thing is."

"We'll see. I have high standards for swine rape." She finished her coffee and stood. "Okay, I'm off. See you in a bit."

"Bye."

She paused at the door to adjust her stockings and straighten her cap, then set off for the market.

---

It was an overcast day, grey and foreboding, and Justine glanced anxiously at the skies as she went. She didn't want a downpour to ruin her clothing, or worse, soak her pigments on the way back. But the skies seemed content just to be bleak and leaden, not spit rain, and by the time she arrived at the Spice Market she was reasonably confident the weather would hold long enough for her to get safely home.

Willem was manning the stall again, and he smiled as her saw her. "Hello, Miss Coursi. You're back soon. Business burning through paint at a good clip?"

"Hello, love. That's right. Business has been good. Lots of commissions." She grinned. "Get anywhere with that girl?"

"No." He sighed. "I don't think she's really all that interested."

"That's a shame, love. Do you have any of that Number Six Cobalt in stock?"

"Let me check... sorry, Miss Coursi, we don't. The supply of that's been interrupted by the fighting near L'Aguedoc, where most of it comes from. I can give you Number Four Cobalt at a discount, though, as a substitute. It's very close. Or you can try Gerard's, in the University Quarter. He doesn't move stock as fast as we do, so he still might have some."

"That's all right, I'll take the number four."

Willem nodded and turned to fill her order. As he did, Justine felt a sharp, metallic sensation in the small of her back and two hands clamped round her arms.

"You're coming with us, Justine Coursi," said a gruff, deep voice. "Cry out, and the dagger will skewer you like a butterfly, and we'll leave your corpse on the ground as we flee. Are you going to cooperate?"

"Yes," she said immediately. Justine had spent much of the early part of her life suddenly at someone's mercy. She knew that when they had you dead to rights, the best thing to do was cooperate and not give them an excuse to hurt you any worse than they were going to hurt you.

Willem spun around. "Miss Coursi?!" he said, voice rising in alarm. His hand reached for a heavy metal scoop.

"Let it go, Willem," she snapped in sudden fear. "It's all right. I'm going to go off with these gentlemen now."

The boy clearly wasn't satisfied by this, but he didn't leap over the counter and attack either. The men holding her jerked her around, and she found herself being marched quickly through the market.

She thought about screaming for the Watch, just as quickly discarded it. Yelling would indeed bring much of the Market down on her captors... but she was sure at the first shout from her lips, the dagger would slam down. Foiling the kidnapping would do her no good if she was dead.

At the edge of the market she was pushed into the back of a wagon, and with a crack of the whip they rattled through the streets.

As they rode, Justine looked at her captors. She didn't like what she saw. They were gaunt, ragged, tattooed with the marks of sailors or rivermen. The worst sort of scum, and she suspected she knew who they answered to.

"Can I make a deal with you to say you couldn't find me?" she asked, without much hope. "I can paint you whatever your imagination can dream up. As dirty as you like."

"Shut your fucking mouth," one of them snapped. The other just cackled.

So much for that, she thought moodily.

They finally arrived at a dockside estate down by the Kesarde River, in an area of town bordering the Rat Quarter. Justine was hauled out of the wagon and marched inside the compound, then taken to a boathouse. The doors were hauled open, and she was shoved roughly in, stumbling briefly to one knee and tearing a small hole in her stockings. The doors slammed shut behind her, and she looked up.

The boathouse contained a few small craft on racks, a long stretch of dock, and some water with doors at the end to allow craft to enter and leave. Sitting in a chair at the end of the dock, with a heap of baskets and crates piled around her, was Callia. The halfling's face wore an arrogant, malicious sneer.

"Well, well... well. Justine Coursi, I'm told your name is. I should have known anyone so good at licking pussy couldn't be trusted."

Justine bowed her head. "I beg your mercy, Lady Callia. I'm merely a hireling. The painting was not my idea, nor did I have any intent to distress you."

The halfling snorted. "You know who else was merely a hireling?" She opened a wicker basket at her feet, and emptied it out. The severed head of the dwarven massage parlor owner tumbled to the deck, the blood on the neck still fresh. From the expression on the bald face, he'd been in some pain when he died.

Feeling her dark skin go pale, Justine got on her knees and clasped her hands together. "Mercy, please. I... I can do work for you, against your enemies. Or work that flatters you. Whatever you want. Just don't kill me." Begging for her life felt embarassing, but she didn't hesitate a second. She would never have made it out of the Rat Quarter if she had been too proud to beg and grovel.

"Whatever I want?" Callia smirked. "And what if... whatever I want... is revenge?"

"I... I only followed instructions..."

"You think that makes it better, you coffee-colored whore? That you took coin for it, instead of doing it out of conviction?"

"Please. Whatever you want."

"Hmmm. You know, I asked you to take your clothes off and get on the table, that day. You declined. You were too good for me?" The halfling smiled. "Still reluctant?"

"No! No, Lady Callia. I would be happy to give you my body. You... you're quite beautiful. I find you attractive." Justine fumbled awkwardly with the top button on her blouse. "I will service you however you wish." She had thought she was long done with being forced to have sex, but it seemed not. At least she honestly did find Callia attractive.

"Oh, I have something FAR more fitting in mind," the halfling said with sadistic glee. Then she said something in a strange, rasping language and stomped twice on the dock.

The water rippled, then erupted as two humanoid shapes climbed onto the dock. They were big, squat, with splayed legs and green-white skin on their bellies, brown green on their backs. Their eyes bulged out of frog-like faces, and their mouths were wide and seemed to be grinning idiot grins. One wore a necklace of skulls, the other a crude clay idol on a rope around its neck. Bullywugs.

They shambled towards Justine with a strange, hopping gait, and she saw as they drew near, with a mix of annoyance and horror, that she had in fact gotten bullywug penises wrong. These were stiffly erect, with square, flat heads and a nubby spiked frill.

"Oh no," she said, taking a step back. "Mercy, lady!"

"You painted me... fucked by two bullywugs, eh?" Callia said with dark amusement. "Let's see how you like it."

Justine turned, and frantically tried to shove the doors open. They wouldn't budge; in fact, she feared they might have been barred. She tried again, putting her shoulder into it. It got her nothing beyond a bruise.

Wet, webbed hands grabbed her from behind, and she shrieked as she was pulled from the doors and spun around. One of them moved behind her, pinning her arms; the other leered in her face. Hooting, it grabbed the front of her blouse and tore, sending buttons flying and clattering on the deck. Methodically the shredded cloth was yanked down from her torso, exposing her bra, which seemed to puzzle the bullywug. Making inquisitive noises, he stroked the lacy cups, tugging at the lace between them a few times to watch it snap back into place. Finally, seeming to tire of it, he grabbed the front of her bra with both hands and wrenched. The lace tore apart with a sharp ripping sound, and Justine's breasts tumbled free. The bullywug gave a croaking cry of triumph, and immediately bent his head. A gigantic tongue slurped out of his flabby mouth to fondle and taste her bosom.

Justine screamed in disgust and terror, thrashing in the second one's grip. "Lady Callia! Please! NO!" Oh gods, she thought numbly. She had thought she was past being raped. The thought of allowing these things to have her made her want to cry.

"Yes yes!" Callia said, laughing. "Put on a good show for me if you want to earn my forgiveness!"

The bullywug in front was lapping at her breasts, smearing thick ropes of saliva across her caramel-colored skin. The one behind her bumped his crotch against her kilted ass, causing her glistening chest to bounce. The smelly drool covered her front in a glistening, dripping sheen, and the bullywug kept licking. The second one's tongue shot out, and began to lick the side of her neck and her jaw and cheek. Justine choked back sobs as the one in front began to play with her saliva-slick nipples, teasing them thoroughly with his tongue and then pinching them with his flat fingers.

Finally seeming to tire of this, the bullywug facing her reached down and pushed her kilt down to puddle at her feet, leaving her clad in her panties. She had worn white undergarments today, and the pale cream color stood out against her dark skin. The bullywug put the flat head of its strangely-shaped pink penis to her panty crotch, and Justine screamed as she felt it press against her labia. Then he pulled back, and licked her breasts again.

A minute later, he positioned his pink froggy cock against her panties again. She braced herself. It left its dick there for almost a minute, hooting lustily at her. Then he pulled away and went back to lapping at her nipples. What was it doing?

A third time it positioned its cock, and this time she watched it dubiously. For a few seconds it just sat there...

Justine screamed in sudden shock as her panties were yanked down a bit from behind, and the second bullywug pushed its square cockhead between her ass cheeks. As she yelped, it pushed the moist, pink cockhead against her anus, and she felt it pass through the tight ring. The bullywug behind her began to rhythmically fuck her ass.

Justine howled. The bullywug in front took its penis away from her crotch and once again went to work on her tits. As she bounced up and down against the impaling cock in her ass, she looked over at Callia with desperate eyes. The halfling had her hand in her pants and was stroking herself, grinning. It was a sight that normally would have turned Justine on. As it was, she just closed her eyes and hoped that she'd live through this.

Finally the first bullywug seemed to make up its mind. It pushed the front of her panties to one side, revealing her shaved pussy. It stuck its square-headed penis against her labia, and then with a gurgling sigh pushed the moist pink head into her. Justine moaned in a mix of disgust and sensation as it started to fuck her, its thrusts alternated up and down with the thrusts from behind.

She bounced, plugged in both holes by thick, slimy shafts, gasping and crying out as the two bullywugs ravished her. The cock pummeling her vagina was actually better designed than a human's, and stimulated her sensitive spots. She shivered, feeling her pussy heating up, and the noises she made quickly grew deeper and throatier. Saliva coated and dripped down her breasts and her neck and cheeks as her captors continued to wash her with their tongues.

The bullywugs had begun a rhythmic, croaking chant together, and they bellowed it out with increasing speed as their squat hips pumped away. They began to make short hops, sending Justine rising off the floor, then coming back down to land with force on their impaling cocks. She began to wail as they hopped one after another, higher and higher, caught up in a primitive, inhuman mating frenzy. She was wet now, from sheer stimulation, and she made herself look at Callia.

The halfling was staring at her, mouth hanging open and contorted with lust, one hand in in her pants and the other fondling a breast. Justine licked her own lips and purposefully, seductively leered at Callia, her eyes half-lidded in a carnal promise. She was gratified to see surprise and interest on the halfling's face. Maybe she would survive this.

Then a powerful hop brought her down hard on a warty square cock, and she screamed out loud. "Oh gods! Oh gods! AHHHHHHHH!"

A wet, hot stream of cum filled her cunt, and she looked down, panting and gasping, as the bullywug in front pulled out of her. A gush of bullywug semen spilled out of her swollen vulva, running down her thighs. It was startlingly white against her dark skin. The beast had cum inside her. Justine swallowed with a bit of fear. She knew bullywugs could impregnate humans; there was said to be a wretched half-breed of the two races in the Foreign Quarter. If she got out of here alive, she would have to quickly go and swallow her alchemist's draught, and pray for the best.

The second bullywug continued fucking her in the ass, pushing her forward and down until she was on knees, bent forward as he continued to hold her arms behind her. The first bullywug stood before her, and presented it's square cockhead, streaked with white cum. She watched a glob of cum fall from the tip before he pushed his penis against her lips. Knowing her life was in their hands, she submitted and opened her lips. Gagging with disgust, she began to lick it, slowly cleaning the mix of her wetness and his milky cum from the square head.

With a yodeling bellow, the second bullywug pumped its amphibian load into her tight ass. It slowly pulled out, then wiped its slimy cock carefully between her asscheeks. She could feel the cum seeping from her ass and pooling in the crotch of her white panties, soaked and holding a puddle of bullywug semen against her labia. As the two humanoids let go of her, Justine slumped onto her elbows, her knees still spread on the wood boards of the dock, as bullywug cum dribbled from her panties.

"Was the tryst to your liking?" Callia said, her small faced was flushed as red as her hair. She gestured to her henchtoads. The two bullywugs croaked and stood to the sides silently.

Justine struggled to a sitting position, and felt her panties tighten as she shifted. White cum seeped out from either side of the soaked crotch of the panties.

"If I managed to please you, it was worth it," she said as humbly as she could manage.

"You did. You did. What a filthy slut you are." The halfling giggled. "But a great artist. I have to admit that. Now, Justine Coursi..., I want you to do a painting for me. If you do a good job, I'll let you go. But if you don't, I'll kill you."

"What do you want me to do, Lady Callia?"

"I want you to paint what just happened. I want you to paint yourself, getting fucked by two randy bullywugs. And it had better be good."

Justine's mouth fell open. She stared at Callia for a heartbeat before accepting, then slowly said, "I need paints and a brush and a canvas."

The halfling slid one of the crates across the deck at her. "In there. Begin now. Before I lose patience."

Swallowing, Justine gingerly got up and hobbled over to the crate. As Callia had said, it contained art supplies... not her chosen ones, but adequate for her needs. She propped the canvas against the crate, and mechanically began to mix her paints. Her body ached, her neck and breasts were still damp with drool, and her panties were a semen-soaked rag covering her equally cum-fulled pussy and anus. She forced herself to focus on the preparation, losing herself in the soothing motions of her work.

Paints mixed, she dispassionately examined her ravishing. The best moment to portray, she judged, was towards the end, being taken in both holes as the bullywugs worked up into a frenzy. She began to draw.

Slowly the bullywugs appeared on the canvas, then her own dark limbs. She was gratified by the contrast their pale bellies made against her skin. She carefully reproduced the idol around the neck of the one who had fucked her pussy, drew the wild, bulging eyes, the spray of saliva dripping from its protruding tongue. Her own body was shown arched under the double-fucking, her feet slightly leaving the ground.

It appealed to her deeply, in spite of what had just happened. Maybe in some parts because of what had just happened. Justine felt her nipples harden and her wetness grow as she painted, caught up in her vision of Beauty and Grotesque. She had never thought of herself as particularly beautiful, but in this canvas she would be. Her brush moved to the face, and here for the first time she took liberties. This Justine's face was contorted in mingled pain, pleasure, and lechery, the face of a woman being taken roughly and enjoying it. It was as much rebellion as she dared attempt.

She painted for a long time. Finally, she dropped the brush and stared at it. Despite the conditions and her poor materials, she felt it was one of the best pieces she'd ever done, one of the most evocative and sexually stirring. She smiled, gazing at her frozen image, locked in eternal coitus with her two warty lovers. Maybe it had been worth it.

"Done? Let me see?" Callia came over. She looked at the picture for a long time, then grudgingly nodded. "You're a pervert, Justine Coursi, but so am I, so I don't mind that. You're also damned talented. This is good enough to buy you your life."

Justine exhaled in relief. "Thank you, Lady Callia. Do I have leave to go?"

"I said it would buy you your life. I did not say it would buy your freedom." The halfling giggled. "It's a fitting thing that your last work should depict bullywug sex. Because I'm giving you to these two to take back to their village as a fuckslave. I'm afraid there aren't many paints or brushes in the deep swamp, so you'll have to pass your time chained to a pallet in a moldy hut, waiting for your next lover, thinking about why you shouldn't have painted that naughty picture of me. And why you shouldn't have turned me down when I asked."

Oh gods. Oh gods. Justine began weeping. She could hear the flap of webbed feet and the clink of chains, coming closer to her...

The boathouse doors smashed open with a crash, and everyone jerked their heads to the entrance. Eight very large individuals carrying weapons of various descriptions filed in. Egrid and Lady Tesaiel followed last. Egrid's sword was drawn, and there was blood on it.

"What is the meaning of this!?" Callia snapped.

"You have something that belongs to Mister Urdo," Tesaiel crisply informed. "I am here to fetch it."

"You have no right to barge into my home-"

"YOU!" Tesaiel interrupted, "took one of our people... That was a mistake." She calmly continued, "Mister Urdo is forgiving. He'll let it go this time. But if it happens again, you personally, will not like the results. Have I made myself absolutely clear?"

Callia assessed the situation. Her bullywugs were crouched and still held chains, looking to her for instructions. She barked something in their croaking tongue, and then raised her hands. "My mistake. I hadn't known the artist belonged to anyone. But do tell Mister Urdo not to let his people slander me in the future. Yes? It'll save us all the trouble."

"I will mention your request next time I am scheduled to see him. Mister Urdo is a very busy, important person." Unlike you, Tesaiel didn't quite say, though it hung loudly unspoken in the air. "Mistress Coursi. Come along."

Justine scrambled gratefully to her feet, then grabbed her kilt, and her cap, and the painting. She hastened to stand by Egrid.

"That's my painting!" Callia protested.

"This one is not for sale," Justine said, voice dripping mock sweetness. "If you want to commission a painting, see my price list."

Callia stared at them angrily, then gestured dismissively. "Go!"

"Do not let this happen again," Tesaiel said. "If you have a problem with one of the people in Mister Urdo's employ, you talk to him about it. Next time a visit like this won't be so diplomatic." She turned sharply on her heel. "Egrid. Let's go."

Egrid barked a few orders, and the armed party slowly retreated from the boathouse, then the compound. They passed the entrance gate and the two men who had kidnapped Justine. They both lay still with blood pooling from underneath them.

"Thank you," Justine said when they were back out on the street. "Thank you, my lady."

"You've put us to some trouble, Mistress Coursi," Tesaiel said mildly. She turned to one of the men with her. "Give her your cloak."

He did, and she gratefully wrapped her mostly-naked form in it. "You came just in time. She was about to send me out of the city."

"You can thank the paint-seller's boy. He ran to our market station and told Egrid what had happened. We came directly to Callia's headquarters, assuming she was seeking revenge for your prior commission."

"Some of her men resisted," Egrid said cheerfully. "That wasn't too bright of em."

"Thank you both. I owe you." She had come hideously close to a nightmare life, without her art - without coffee. She could have been a sex slave being bred by bullywugs.

"Yes. You do." Tesaiel smiled at her. "I'll take that painting as first payment. It can hang in Mister Urdo's private gallery. Maybe next to mine."

Justine opened her mouth to protest, then wilted under the cool elven stare. "I... yes, my lady. As you say." She held up the painting.

Tesaiel accepted the canvas. "That's right, Mistress Coursi. Remember that. Make it your rule."

---

The next day, Justine was in the market to buy the cobalt pigments she failed to purchase the day before.

"Miss Coursi!" Willem looked up happily as she approached. "You're all right! I was afraid something terrible had happened to you."

Justine smiled at him as he stood behind his counter. "I'm fine, love. Largely thanks to you, for running and getting Egrid. Thank you."

"I had to do something. I'm sorry I let them take you, but you said..." he wound down, embarrassed, and shrugged. "I doubt I could have stopped them anyway."

"No, you did exactly the right thing, and I brought you a present to say thank you." She handed him a square, flat shape wrapped in brown paper. "Have a look."

Curious, Willem tore the paper away, and then grinned. It was a picture, showing him making enthusiastic love to a woman who was, from appearances, enjoying his efforts immensely. "Oh wow. This is incredible!" He turned it one way and then another, looking at it from every angle. "You're so good. It looks just like me!"

"I had to do it from memory, but I think the likeness is pretty good."

"Yeah!" He squinted, frowning. "You know, the woman is super hot, and she looks really familiar, but I don't... I can't place her. Is she someone famous?"

"Oh, that's me," Justine said casually. "I just changed the skin tone and hair so it wasn't obvious. But you can see her face." Her lips curled into a smile.

Willem stared at her, then back at the canvas, then back at her. "It IS you. So in this we're..."

"Yes we are, love." Justine smiled at him, then set a small slip of paper on top of the canvas. "Here's my address. Think about the painting, then come see me when your work is done. We can discuss modeling for another one."

Willem swallowed, blushing bright crimson as he looked her up and down. Justine patted his hand, and then walked away. She could feel his eyes on her ass as she left, and hummed under her breath. A good artist knew how to inspire.

Continued in Chapter 7

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