Saturday night and Sunday morning

Tharros being Tharros, the two women were soon surrounded with a ring of males frenziedly jerking their dicks at the sight if the two buxom sluts licking each other out on the pavement. Even if Perrima has something special in mind for Zalah – and no doubt she did – the mass of rapidly stiffening men around them wouldn’t be governed by her. Pretty soon more cum was raining down on the two friends, splattering them. This gave them the additional incentive of trying to catch cum on their tongues as well as licking the splotches off each other where it fell, as well as diving into each other’s pussies.

It was the perfect end to the night for the two women.

At length both of them stood, straightened, and made a break for Perrima’s door before the horde of dick-strokers could catch them. It was a close run things, but Zalah just managed to get through the door of the shop, slam it and bolt it, half a second before the first lusting male could grab hold of her. The two friends fell into each other’s arms, laughing and joking about the events of the night. The cum that they had collected through the course of the night smeared all over each other as they smooched their massive sets of boobs together, and each extended their tongues as far out of their mouths as they could and touched their points. That display caused at least one more man outside, looking through the shop window at them, to blow another load all over again in his pants.

‘Let’s get cleaned up and get some sleep,’ Perrima suggested. ‘I’m going to need you fully rested and in tip-top condition for tomorrow.’

‘Well whatever you’ve got in store can’t be any worse than tonight,’ Zalah said.

‘What? You climaxed didn’t you?’

‘Only about a million times. That was the trouble,’ Zalah moaned good-naturedly, and smacked one of Perrima’s ripe boobs hard with the flat of her hand.

‘No more of that!’ Perrima warned sternly. ‘You’re going to play by my rules. I want you up and looking fabulous at eight!’

They went up to Perrima’s living quarters on the second floor of the shop. Perrima showed Zalah to her room and the two of them said goodnight.

In the morning, Zalah was awoken by one of Perrima’s member of shopfloor staff with a tray containing her breakfast. This tall, chestnut-haired girl was wearing a tight pink corset over which the tips of her areolas could be seen and a pink set of panties with microscopically thin straps that went high over her hips, complete with a set of black platform heels that complemented her stunning legs.

‘Should I eat the breakfast, or you?’ said Zalah.

‘Ordinarily I’d already have my pussy in your face, but I’m afraid mistress Perrima has warned me in no uncertain terms to refrain from sexual contact with you,’ said the busty girl with a pronounced pout.

‘I know how you feel,’ said Zalah. ‘Does Perrima make you dress like that all the time?’

‘Oh yes. She feels it increases sales.’

‘I bet.’

On leaving the room, the girl did hoist the side of the sliver of material over her slit to the side, hooking it over her pert ass, and wink her asshole at Zalah. At that, Zalah ate her breakfast and prepared herself for the day. Perrima had left her an outfit to put on over one of the chairs in the room.

It was a shiny black leather affair, almost like some of the types of body armour Zalah had been accustomed to wearing in combat but cut into slutty fashion. Instead of combat boots, there were black thigh-high platform heels, a tiny black skirt that barely reached over her pussy and ass, tight black leather gloves that went all the way up her arms, a shiny black leather corset with holes cut away at the top to reveal the entirety of both her massive tits, a black choker and a plumed helmet.

Donning the outfit, Zalah walked into the living room where she saw Perrima, who was ready for her. Perrima was wearing nothing more than a shiny blue one-piece skintight dress that clung to her fabulous curves. The lower hem reached just above her pussy and the other one went just above her billowing tits. All in all it wasn’t a very large piece of material. She was perched on a pair of platform heels with a paintbrush in her hand, standing behind a large easel and canvas.

‘What’s this get-up in aid of?’ said Zalah.

‘You’re my model. I’m going to paint you.’

‘Oh, good,’ said Zalah. ‘I’ve been thinking about getting a portrait done.’

‘This isn’t a portrait. It’s a historical diorama. I’ve hired all sorts of models to come in through the day and pose with you.’

‘That sounds kinky.’

‘Well, yes. It will be when I’m done. But I am an artist, and I absolutely insist on my subjects being completely still. Otherwise I can’t work and the effect is ruined.’

‘Is it?’

‘Oh yes, it is. So whatever happens during the course of our session you, my darling, are forbidden from moving. I’ve sent my girl to fetch the first model. They’re getting changed and will be coming up the stairs in just a second…’