The Five Jeweled Vixens: Yet Another Debauched Group Of Sluts.

Back in the throne room the king inwardly groaned at the five women before him. A Dwarf Ranger, an Elf Sorceress, a Halfling Rogue, a Human Oracle of the God Eros, and a Gnomish Bard, all women, all looking at him lustily.

"Your Majesty, we are honored to be recognized by Your august person as a party of Heroes for the betterment of Your Majestie's kingdom. We have headed Your call from all across Vandalon and are ready to pay our tribute into Your glorious personage!" The gnome declared.

:Gods bellow, not again...: King Roger I winced. It was getting so he felt more like an underpaid giggalo than a monarch, he hadn't really enjoyed having sex in weeks, though at the moment he blamed that on the lack of quality in his partners.

The king didn't even bother to disguise his weariness with the idea. "If you must..." He sighed. It wasn't that these wenches weren't comely enough, for all that the elf's skin was brown as a nut and her hair vibrant green; nor that the Halfling looked almost like a child wearing her mother's bra filled with water balloons, with her rich hair like a summer sunset done up in pigtails; and of course the human having a crippled leg held in a brace; it was that King Roger expected nothing special or satisfying from the encounter.

"Is it not protocol for womenfolk who become adventurers to pay you this tribute?" The elfin sorceress asked.

"It has become so, yes," King Roger stated, resigned.

"Then we shall do so," the human Oracle said, and began to disrobe.

The rest of the court quietly filed out, as the women removed their garments, and the king awaited yet another plebian sexual encounter, but what he expected wasn't what he got...

No sooner were the five women naked than they each put their right hand around the Oracle's walking stick and began fingering their pussies with the left.

"What are you doing?" Roger asked and the Oracle gave him a knowing smile.

"Fortifying our bodies and minds to withstand your 'Royal Touch' your Majesty," She declared with a quick wink, before finally touching her own flushed nether regions, and starting to shout lasciviously as a rolling wave of continuous orgasm punctuated by sharp spikes of heightened sensation soon had her and the others making puddles of their juices on the marble floor...

One by one they reached the point where the crashing tsunami of orgasmic sensation left them to exhausted to stand and they fell away from the staff like puppets with their strings cut. At the last it was the Oracle's turn to fall, and only one woman remained, who turned to the King, body slick with sweat but licking her lips triumphantly at the tent that had formed in King Roger's robe, and, still tightly gripping the staff, came forward to match the divine power of Eros, god of lust, against King Roger's majestic shaft...