A wench must climax.

Red Sonja's question was one that Conan was unable to answer for two very different reasons. The first of these was that she had occupied this body for a span measured in mere minutes, and the sensations she was feeling were still alien and surreal. There was no swelling and tightening of seed-laden testicles, no sudden release of pressure and the feeling of invincibility. Instead, Conan felt as if she was being swept up by waves of warmth and pleasure, each wave of arousal cresting higher than the last. The second reason was that these waves of pleasure left her barely capable of reasoned thought and robbed her of the muscle control needed to physically speak coherently.

Though the Cimmerian was not able to answer Sonja with words, her body, to another lusty female, answered the question just as eloquently. Her thighs trembled and quivered, and the soft sheath around Sonja's skilled fingers flexed and clenched in spasms. Conan's breaths became ragged gasping moans, inarticulate sobbing cries that spoke more clearly to Sonja than any reasoned discourse of her sensations ever could. There was no abrupt moment of release such as Conan had felt as a man when he had ejaculated, and the pressure instantly drained. Instead, the waves washed over her for many seconds, her clouded mind unable to comprehend the passage of time and reliably reckon how long she moaned, writhed and swam in that lust-hazed euphoria.

In the blissful state of post-climax well being Conan took a minute or more to gather her wits enough to realise that Sonja's fingers were no longer moving inside her. She lay panting in Sonja's lap, infused with a body-wide glow of peace and satisfaction.

As Conan recovered enough to move with some semblance of purpose and coordination, twisting around to look at Sonja with an expression of awed disbelief at the sensations she had just succumbed to, the red-haired warrioress thrust Conan from her lap to land upon her well-padded rump at Sonja's feet.

"Have...have I displeased you, Mistress?" Conan asked anxiously, the thought distressing her more than she could put into words.

"Far from it, Connie," Sonja replied. "Your surrender to my touch and to your own body pleased me. However, the needs of a wench flow just as strongly through a sword maiden's veins as they do through those of a concubine or tavern slut. Without my own release, I shall be distracted in mind and body, my womanly arousal demands tending to if I am to protect us with my full ability."