The arousal coursing through Lydia's body makes the feigning of modesty all but impossible. There is the double-edged sword of power and lust; the eyebots following her, recording the sensuous sway of her hips and the knowledge that thousands, perhaps millions would soon be pleasuring themselves along with her, fantasizing, wishing, praying, that it was them, and not the sylph.<br/><br/>Modesty is not a thing one contemplates under such circumstances.<br/><br/>There is a tick in Lydia's mind when the sylph gives her that come-hither stare, the false assumption that she would be clean before the frolicking began, but after a moment's hesitation, she shrugs, and sinking to her knees in front of the sylph, starts by planting light kisses on her knees, her thighs, the soft, fleshy mound of her<em>mons</em>.<br/><br/>Lydia has never gone down on a fae, and is quite eager to have the experience. Constantly aware of the presence of Lex and Dex, she aches her hips--just a bit--and parts her knees, giving the eyebots full view if they so wish. After all, this isn't about the sylph, or even about her, it is about the crowd. The more popular she is, the greater the odds she will survive to reach the lower levels.<br/><br/>Not wanting to soil the sylph's sex--and inadvertently end up eating some of the mud herself, Lydia avoids using her fingers, instead keeping her hands on the fae's thighs.<br/><br/>Her tongue is light and quick, flicking in and out, lightly dancing around the sylph's clitoris playfully. She smiles up at the sylph, taking the wet folds of the sylph's sex between her lips and sucking...