To see more of her

"What do I want?" You repeat Lady Kiriakolis' question slowly as you consider your options. You doubt very much that this noblewoman showed up in your apartment with two beautiful **** girls because they were the best suited to carrying the chest of coins. Clearly she thinks that as a man you'll stop thinking if she gives you one or even both of the scantily clad tasty morsels. The slaves are tempting, you cannot deny the need growing in your loins as you consider the pair. The brunette is shaped like a wet dream with lush curves and plump lips that would look perfect wrapped around your cock. The blonde ****'s build is almost the exact opposite, she is in many way a Rider's ideal plaything, thin-boned and slender, this delightful little treat is light enough for you to lift with one hand and would barely slow down a large healthy drake like Swiftwing. The thought of her pale arms and legs wrapped around your torso writhing on your cock as you sail on the clouds makes your cock twitch under your tunic.

The expression of disdain on Lady Relia's face tells you that she has not missed your assessment of her slaves. She waits impatiently for you to ask for one of the girls as the price for her freedom. Her arrogance, even in this most dire of situations, makes you angry and you decide to humble the proud noblewoman. You cannot even begin to count the times that Ladies of high station like this have sneered at you when you pass them in the streets, or worse yet pointedly ignore you if they find themselves invited to a party where you and other Riders are present.

"Take off your street robes." You have the satisfaction of seeing her mouth widen in shock, and then harden in anger as she gets over the surprise of the demand.

"You are a disgusting pig." She spits out the words, but you notice makes no attempt to leave. After all, where would she go? The future looks grim for a young woman of her beauty and position, and you do not envy her when the rampaging troops break into her lofty tower. Judging by the panicked yelling in the streets that horror might arrive sooner than either of you expected, For that matter, if the drake wires don't come down before the bands of warriors reach your drake loft, your future is almost as grim.

"I can't argue that, Lady Kiriakolis," you concede with a bow, before pointing out the obvious, "and yet, you are still here in my room." Her face hardens noticeably, and to your amusement you see both her slaves hide smiles behind their mistresses' back. "But if I am to carry you to safety, you can't wear those stiff heavy garments anyways, so if you want to win my favor, you may as well take them off now." It was at best only a partial argument, leaving unspoken the fact that you would have a much better look at Lady Kiriakolis' figure once the embroidered robes that cover her from neck to ankle were stripped away, but Lady Rielia's eyes brighten noticeably at the mention of your taking her to safety and so with a slight sigh she nods at her slaves.

"Where can I change?" Lady Relia asks looking around the large room for somewhere private to disrobe. The Rider's loft is spacious, but spartan in its design consisting of a large, nearly-empty, semi-circular room: there is an unmade bed on one side and a weapons rack near the main door. The only other doorway leads to a covered balcony where Swiftwing is stirring impatiently. Lady Relia heads for this opening but then pulls back in fear when your drake's fierce face and yellow eye pokes through the open door.

"You'd be wiser to let your slaves undress you in here, my Lady." You plop yourself down on the bed with a toothy grin on your face. "My teeth are nowhere near as sharp as his when I bite." You'll have a much better sense of what particular part of this proud noblewoman you'd like to nibble on in a few minutes. Her ear, half hidden by her fragrant hair perhaps, or maybe that long white neck, rosy peaked nipple or even the soft flesh of her inner thigh. It is just as well Lady Relia is occupied with the process of removing her outer layer of clothing, because if she correctly interpreted your lusty thoughts she might well flee from your little lair into the arms of the invading hoards.

You watch with eager anticipation as the lacing that secures the heavy quilted robes are loosened and the embroidered fabric is pulled down in a heap around her ankles. When she steps out of the circle of crumpled robes you get a much better look at her figure.