They’re the top girls of each brothel

It was quite a scene taking place in the curtilage, three new whores replacing the five hard-working and well-fucked ones that had offered the on-looking men and women such visual treats.

Walking in the centre of the line of five, with Odila and Viveka to her right, the darker of the two blondes dragging one of her long, stiletto-heeled boots after her, holding it by the foot so that cum was allowed to leak out of the top and thereby create a glistening white trail that followed her, and Yira and Maxime on her left, Zalah took a glance at the women that were to relieve them.

The woman in the middle of the trio of salaciously swaggering harlots was tall, at least a head taller than her two comrades and a few inches taller than Zalah even.
This woman, Arianne, was a towering figure of generous curves and well-defined muscles under a darkish chocolate complexion, with a steely grey gaze and charcoal-black hair that was kept short and stubby, and the white stiletto-heels she wore only made her appear taller.

Naked save for the bands of brown leather around her waist, upper arms and thighs, Arianne was an Efari, a collection of peoples inhabiting the deserts and savannas located on the other side of the Central Sea. As a talented warrior with little knowledge of Tharros but a strong hunger for glory, Arianne had made her way to the city years ago, almost as soon as she had come of age.

The culture of Tharros in combination with the qualities of her physique had soon led Arianne to become a prostitute, and she was now one of the better known harlots in town and soon rich enough to start her own brothel, despite still having more than a year left to her twenty-fifth birthday.

Having struck a similar deal with her Madame as Zalah had struck with Zenobia, Arianne was left free to further fill her pockets by activities on the side, not all of which included fucking for money.

Her most rewarding source of income was the “cockpit”, however, the most notorious attraction of the Dick Drainer. The concept of the cockpit was alluringly simple, two whores would descend down into a hole in the floor of the inner bar-room, and then men would close in around it and jerk off while watching the two women fuck each other. The whores would then get a share in the gold that men had paid for the pleasure, the size of it being determined by how filled-up with cum the hole would be when the show was over.

In this pursuit, Arielle excelled, often using her muscles to lift her partner up on her shoulders so that the other whore could suck the men’s cocks while Arielle licked her pussy.

Flanking Arielle on her left was Odessa, a raven-haired beauty with a softer physique than Arielle’s, her belly discretely and femininely rounded in comparison to the tall black’s flatter one, though her tits were almost as large and proudly located on her chest as Arielle’s, and her ass was even thicker and juicier.

The curls of her hair flowed down over her shoulders, and were in exactly the same tone as that of her pubes, which had been cut into a neat triangle that sat above the wet folds of her cunt.

Dressed only in black platform shoes and white stockings that covered her toned legs, Odessa had started her journey towards becoming “the Harlot’s Hole’s” prime whore just a year ago, when she as an eighteen-year old had laid on her belly over a table for hours and allowed over a dozen paying customers to take their turns fucking the tight passage of her anus.

A true lover of having her bunghole stuffed full with anything hard and thick, particularly fat cocks, Odessa had experienced trouble containing herself from rushing out onto the flagstones when she watched Galashiels pound the Pussy Parlour’s whores in the ass.

Finally, there was Sierra, the leading lady at the “TittyKaKa”.
Although her blonde hair that reached halfway down her back and blue eyes hidden behind her pair of pink-tinted, circular glasses implied that she stemmed from the northern areas of the continent, Sierra had been bred and born in southern Zoracia, and the blood that flowed in her veins was not purely human. Her mother had been a member of an odd cult devoted to lizard beings which they perceived to be gods, and such a creature had been Sierra’s father.

Sierra’s paternal heritage only surfaced as her tongue was thinner and longer than that of an average woman’s, and her pupils, hidden as they were under her glasses, were almond-shaped.

Save for the glasses, the only clothes worn by Sierra was a miniscule leather thong in red, far too thin to hide the rug of pubic hair which she kept shaved in an ornate pattern, and a pair of high-heeled glass shoes.

Being at her most spectacular when she used her peculiar tongue or the humungous orbs of her breasts, a pair which were actually even larger than Arielle’s, to bring her clients to climax, Sierra could also make use of the physical resilience given to her by her father’s nature to allow her lovers and customers to go at her without any inhibitions.

Spreading out as they met, the two lines of whores passed through each other, with Zalah briefly cupping the firm asses of Sierra and Arielle as they passed her by.

Once inside the brothel again, Zalah took a look first at Zenobia, who was standing by one of the windows and observing the new women, then at gathering of water-filled buttocks that had been placed in the room. Apparently, there was no time for Zalah and her four friends to clean themselves upstairs.

“Gods!” Zenobia exclaimed, her eyes widening as she saw Galashiels’ enormous cock swelling again as the trio of new sluts approached him.

“How much can that bastard pump out?” Zenobia’s question directed at Zalah.

“I don’t know, I guess he must have gone a really long time without getting any.”
Zalah replied, “And those three new pets must have given him a second wind.”

“Ah,” Zenobia grinned.

“Viveka,” the Madame went on, “would you hand me your other boot?”