Trimon begins to have his way with Naerwyn.

"Impressive." The warlord says looking down at Naerwyn with animal lust in his eyes. "You truly are a fiery wench. You took that spanking without a tear."

"No man can make me cry!" The thief defiantly proclaims, though her eyes are still wide with fear at the approach of Trimon's massive weapon.

"Maybe not from your eyes, wench, but I promise you will shout out many cries this night, begging me as I have that virgin ass of yours." He threatens.

Turning to the Akkadian he takes his chin into his strong hand. "You may do as you please my favorite whore. Take a bath, rest, or watch me work on your friend here. I hope, if you are willing, you shall join me in my bed tonight, but it will have to be in a while, I have much work to do." Trimon says as he turns his gaze back to the auburn thief. "There is an arrogance in this novice that no woman should have towards men, especially a whore, and I intend to fuck it out of her even if it takes all night. I confess, however, taming her fires is a challenge I greatly look forward to accomplishing. Thank your mistress again for bringing me this exquisite task; she must have known I was the only man for the job. Tell the guards they will be needed in the morning to carry her back to your guild, for she will not be able to walk for a while when I am done with her."

The Akkadian has many mixed thoughts cross his mind as the warlord turns his back on him and proceeds to the bed to tame his companion. He wonders if these emotions are a side effect of being trapped in a woman's body, his usual cold calculating assassin's mind seems clouded. He desperately wishes to remove this curse, but he has growing respect for the warlord, under different circumstances they easily could be friends. Though he has greatly enjoyed the company and rivalry of the beautiful Naerwyn he agrees with Trimon, that she needs a man to humble her, but he is jealous that is the warlord who will be doing it and not himself. Finding himself lost in thought, he cannot but help to just stare and watch as the warlord climbs into the bed to have his way with Naerwyn.

The thief looks at the Akkadian trying to goad him into action with her eyes. When he doesn't move she surmises that he is going to watch her be humbled for a while. Honestly pondering the situation to herself she realizes that if the roles were reverse she would be doing the same, enjoy the spectacle of Minaja suffering for a bit. "I guess I deserve this for losing." She mutters out loud.

"Do not worry wench." The warlord tries to calm her. "There will be some pleasure before the pain. Now on your back and spread your legs."

Though a thief, Naerwyn prides herself on keeping her word, she wagered her body on a rash bet and has lost, and now she must pay the price. Sitting on the bed, her hands behind her, she folds her elbows and lowers her torso down as she spreads her legs wide surrendering herself to Trimon. The warlord greatly aroused by his new prize moves in between her legs and reaches out and gently, yet firmly, cups her breasts. The auburn thief cannot by help to begin to slowly squirm as she gives out faint moan as he lowers his mouth on her tits.

Though her dislike of men is still intact, her sexuality has been greatly invigorated, from the explosive orgasm given to her by the assassin's skill tongue, the erotic nature of the wager and though she would never admitted it, the painful spanking she just went through. Trimon is no ordinary man, however, handsome, muscular, commanding and honorable, more of a barbarian god of old, than a common guard in a brothel. Few women, even a committed lesbian, could resist him.

The warlord makes his way down from Naerwyn's breasts kissing her firm abdomen towards her aching sex. Placing his hands underneath her buttocks he easily lifts her up onto his mouth, his tongue exploring her cunt. Giving a loud groan the thief's "no's" soon become a "yes" as she is clearly quite vocal when being made love too. Her hands sprawl frantically across the bed, grabbing on to the sheets as she digs her fingers into the fine silks, her head tossing back and forth as she bites her lower lips vainly trying to remain silent until a loud "Ohh, Yes!" erupts from her mouth.

Silently standing before the bed, having not moved a muscle, the Akkadian looks on.