Karra gets a tour of the palace

“Sounds like a convenient way of getting yourself some breakfast.” Karra replied in comment to what Miele had said, looking very tongue in cheek, though that of course was quite hard to see under the frosting of semen which covered her face.
This caused Miele to release a heartfelt roar of laughter as she led the younger woman out of the courtyard, causing quite a few of the naked, sweaty dancers resuming their “training” to turn their heads and look at the two women as they disappeared out through the arched passageway.

As Miele showed Karra the way to the lodgings, leading her through the long, airy and very wide corridors, she took the opportunity to tell her more about the life as a dancer in the employ of Cyrus.

There was a house-physician, of course, a middle-aged gentleman named Jamal, who possessed great knowledge in the fields of medicine and alchemy, and whose job it was to ensure that all dancers stayed healthy, prohibiting the female ones getting pregnant.

“But don’t let his timid surface fool you, Jamal is a randy old bastard, more than willing to use young women as guinea pigs for his new contraptions or ****, or just celebrating your recently proven lack of venereal deceases by fucking each and every one of your orifices.”

“Sounds like my kind of doctor.” Karra grinned.

“Do you always have a smart comment in store?” Miele replied, following up her query by smacking her hand quite hard against Karra’s right buttock, adding; “Take that, you little slut!”

The sudden surge of pain on her ass made Karra groan and twitch her body, the latter being something which caused driblets of jizz to rain from her body down onto the previously clean floor below her.

“You dirty whore!” Was Karra’s verbal response to the blow, but her amused tone of voice did not serve to imply that a catfight was imminent.

“Just reminding you of your place in the slut-chain, that’s all.” Miele replied, only partly as a joke.

Leaving the subject for now by simply omitting to remark on Miele’s reply, Karra listened as the more experienced dancer now told her about the house’s tailor; a former dancer by the name of Latifa, who had retired from the profession a few years ago and instead taken the roll of the one buying, making and repairing the outfits worn by the studs and sluts of Cyrus’.

Apparently though, she still possessed the fiery hunger for sex which had made her a very successful dancer, and Cyrus had made her the recipient of the privilege applied to all the men in the palace; the right to sleep with the women dancers whenever and wherever she felt the urge. Moreover, she had the same right when it came to the male dancers too, and it was commonly known to be a wise thing to get a few hours of rest before paying a visit to her workshop.

By now, Miele and Karra had reached the female lodgings, which consisted of a large hall, with a row of large windows facing the outer wall and an arched ceiling.

Palms and plants were placed here and there, a large fountain stood in the centre of the room, and mattresses, divans and pillows were placed throughout the room.

“This is where us girls sleep, altogether just like one big happy family. There are private chambers for us all, where we keep our possessions and such.”

“And where do I sleep, more exactly?” Karra wondered.

“Wherever and with whoever you want.” Miele replied, and then she gazed at Karra, while a rope of cum dangled from her chin, swivelling back and forth just over her firm, bulging breasts.

“And that reminds me…” Miele went on.

“Reminds you of what?”

“That I haven’t seen you dance yet. It’s not as though that’s the most important thing about us, but a dancing performance for our customers before the fucking ensues is part of the ritual, and we can’t have women prancing around with all the grace of a dead cow.”

The word “ritual” instantly brought back memories to Karra, reminding her of her life back in the temple. Though the rituals that Miele spoke of would culminate a celebration of the male organ, whereas the rituals back home had been meant to “cure” Karra of her filthy, un-Amazonian craving for cocks, something which Karra had relentlessly refused to allow, often cumming during the ritual punishments she underwent, in a combination of rebelliousness, reminiscence of the men she had fucked earlier, the public degradation and the often unintentionally sexual ways of punishment that the Mother Superior had judged her to experience. To scream out her craving for cocks while cumming madly as two sturdy Amazonian warrioresses spanked her bottom red had been a sure way of making the congregated sisters turn pale with disgust.

“And I haven’t seen you lick pussy either, which is a shame, not only because several of our customers are female.” Miele’s words brought Karra back from Memory Lane to the present.