Bahiyya spoke out in one of the most melodic renditions of orcish:<br/><br/>“<span style="color: Sienna">Discipline! Obedience. Presentable attire, mister Johanneson. Qualities that all sea-farers should take to heart, just like the Barons’ pet here.</span>”<br/><br/>Bahiyya didn’t remove her mischievously alluring eyes from Tamaska when presenting her somewhat disturbing praise.<br/>The succubus nodded mister Johanneson to come closer, and he wasn’t slow to oblige.<br/><br/>Johanneson rarely found reasons to be angry at life: as one of the promising new sprouts out of a middle-class Bruut family, the world figuratively lay at his feet: His pa’ was pleased when the young tyke enrolled at the Royal Navy, his ma’ was proud to have put such a handsome protégé in the world, and his siblings hated his guts for the lavish attention of his parents.<br/><br/>The spoon shoved up his posterior wasn’t silver – nether, it wasn’t gold either: It was mithril, lined with emeralds, hand crafted by Alexstraza and passed down through mortal generations as a Beacon of Pompousness.<br/><br/>But when it came to the good womankind, Johanneson couldn’t boast about clear-headed thinking: The way they giggled, purred, teased and seemed to know how to do everything except heavy lifting better than him both annoyed and enticed him. As a result, his behaviour suggested bemused confusion and spots of helpless arousal in their company.<br/><br/>But where he was confused in normal woman company, Madam Bahiyya was in another league all-together: He was entirely under her (partly literal spell from the moment he laid eyes on her ). Perfect was a strong word to throw around so leniently, but the more he spent and was forced to spend time in her company, the further he felt slipping towards that oh-so-telling word.<br/><br/>In short, he was the prime candidate to one big, fat broken heart.<br/><br/>Just as Bahiyya liked it - broken hearts caused so much delicious discourse. Sometimes, the succubus saw it a duty to poets and musicians alike to provide them with more redundant material to write into artistic complaints.<br/><br/>The young man said something in a stammering, husky tone.<br/><br/>“<span style="color: Sienna">Orcish, dear.</span>” Bahiyya chastised in a sultry purr.<br/><br/>“<span style="color: Gray">P-pardon me manners, ms. Bahiyya..</span>” he immediately replied in a fluent orcish (Him as well?).<br/><br/>The succubus’ hands coiled around the cheek of Tamaska possessively as her hungry eyes took her in – the trolless spotted the perverted glee in her face seeing her favourite toy again.<br/><br/>“<span style="color: Sienna">And yes, it is –“safe”- to be down here. I’m a confidant of the Baron, so relax. Now… isn’t she absolutely adorrrrable, mr. Johanneson?</span>” Bahiyya asked rolling on the r’s through a hefty sigh.<br/><br/>Starry-eyed Swashbuckler Johanneson sided with the blood-elf with his daft smile splattered all over his noggin:<br/><br/>“<span style="color: Gray">Tall tales of them troll-women beauty might not be so tall, ms. Bahiyya. Y-your promises were above expectation.</span>” He mustered.<br/><br/>“<span style="color: Sienna">Uncover those arms and stand up, pet. He can scarcely enjoy your curves all crunched together like that. And then take a few steps in a circle, -slowly-. I want mr. Johanneson to see the fruits of our labour.</span>”<br/><br/>Johanneson ate her from top to bottom: He couldn’t help it. She was as exotic as the stories told – and the way she was clad, minimally, didn’t help quell any lurid thoughts. A sizeable bulge already strained against his trousers.<br/><br/>Bahiyya leaned in and whispered into the ear of the young man, loud enough for Tamaska to hear:<br/><br/>“<span style="color: Sienna">You want a closer.. hmmmm “look”?</span>”<br/><br/>The suggestion must have fried a few brain cells in the man: He couldn’t find the focus to construct a proper phrase for a few seconds, resulting in strange “<span style="color: Gray">Bubehblrrbbbl blarh bluah</span>” sounds rolling daftly of his face:<br/><br/>“<span style="color: Gray">Buuuh-buuuu-but… iiiisn’t this the.. uhm.. the Barons’.. ah..property, miss Bahi-…?</span>”<br/><br/>“<span style="color: Sienna">Noooonsense, don’t be such a bore. Aren’t you a strong, decisive, manly sea-farer? Don’t worry, dear!</span>” Bahiyya interrupted in a giggling purr, one hand trailing across his chest coyly.<br/><br/>“<span style="color: Sienna">If you just do exactly as I say, the Baron will never even know you went down here in the first place. See? Risk free and, more importantly, -fun-.</span>” She continued, ending on a high note on the last word.<br/><br/>“<span style="color: Gray">W-wu-well, a h-hand.. a handshake uhm.. would be in o-order, I guess…</span>” Johanneson mumbled.<br/><br/>Bahiyya gave him the mother of all incredulous glances and fetched a key to the jail-door separating Tamaska from freedom: She barely opened the door before pushing the man inside with a surprised “Oooop!”.<br/>Johanneson staggered a couple of steps and straightened up to hear the door slam shut immediately, Bahiyya giggling in a fashion so devilish, it surprised both Tamaska and Johanneson that flamers –weren’t- bathing her in hellish light from the background just for effect.<br/><br/>“<span style="color: Sienna">Mister Johanneson - Arms down your side, and stand with your back against the bars if you please?</span>” Bahiyya demanded towards the man before glancing to Tamaska.<br/><br/>“<span style="color: Sienna">Pet, kneel where you are and do not move.</span>”<br/><br/>Johanneson peered between the two women and slowly positioned himself: He wasn’t just curious, he was dead-scared. One hellishly beautiful woman was one thing; But her AND an enticing exotic trollish beauty? His hardly-comprehending mind threatened with conscious shut down.<br/>Then his hardly-comprehending mind curtly informed him that his hands were tied behind the bars on Bahiyyas side.<br/><br/>“<span style="color: Gray">Wai-.. what!?</span>” he protested, mostly out of surprise.<br/><br/>“<span style="color: Sienna">Oh be quiet, I won’t kill you.</span>” Bahiyya reassured, putting the last touches on the silk strip knot used to constrict the poor man. She definitely must have been a boy scout, as the knot was impeccable.<br/><br/>Ignoring the cautious questions from Johanneson about “<span style="color: Gray">whether this was safe</span>” and “<span style="color: Gray">this is a bit awkward, mlady</span>”, Bahiyya gently walked to the man’s side and pressed her figure against the bars, cat like fingers curling around the metal rods – she spoke through one, prolonged, delicious purr:<br/><br/>“<span style="color: Sienna">Kneel before the boy and ease the good Mister Johannesons trousers down gently, pet..</span>” she started, intersected with an aghast “<span style="color: Gray">C-come again!?</span>” from the bound man: “<span style="color: Sienna">..and slowly relieve him of his constricting boxers.</span>”<br/><br/>“<span style="color: Sienna">Then you are to kiss, toy, massage and nibble on his delightful schlong with your tongue, lips and hands lovingly until I say otherwise. I want you to purr and enjoy this, pet: The more pleased and vulgar you look the more it will please your mistress. And you –wish- to please your mistress, do you not?</span>”<br/><br/>A hint of malicious intent lay in her voice, suggesting undesirable consequences if the mistress wasn’t pleased.<br/><br/>"<span style="color: Sienna">Lets see how good your persuasive skills are.</span>" She speculated aloud.<br/><br/>Johannesons hardly comprehending mind told mr. Johanneson that the mind wanted a raise. It cited nigh-impossible working circumstances as a premier reason. The boys jaw was helplessly slack.<div class="messageTextEndMarker"> </div>