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Brothel To Another World

Chapter 0

By StripedKittyScribe

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Nymova scrubbed at her face and groaned when she saw the corner of her little chambers start flashing. "By the pits," she snarled, and actually flung the stylus she was using at the wall in frustration. "It's like they're not even bothering with contractual cooldowns." Her desk was covered in scrolls and scraps of paper.

If one were to divide them, it would depend, of course, on how one rated them. Quantity of paper? Well over 90% was tied to her 'actual' job, as opposed to her own scrawlings. Time spent on that output? Closer to 50/50, but only because she'd paid someone a long time ago to automate the paperwork portion. If there was one thing that the circles of Hell ran on, it wasn't the tormented souls of the damned, it was paperwork. If she hadn't agreed to shore up someone's quota so many years ago, she still would have been filling out paperwork on last month's jobs.

"Probably some thrice-damned 40 year old virgin," she sighed as she stalked over to the magic circle, and traced a set of runes into the stonework, quickly reading the vital statistics that the Service Matching Utility Team supplied to every infernal contractor. She absolutely hated that she had long ago gotten used to the acronyms and codes that were supplied. Hate it or not, she had to admit that it was efficient, in a cold, soulless sort of way.

She thudded her forehead against the wall, taking the impact on her horns and whimpering. She palmed the wall and channeled some of her power into a section of the inlaid carvings. She didn't even let Vylex answer before she started talking. "Really? Really Vylex? ANOTHER 1334? The fuck did I do to you to piss you off?" She didn't have a visual link to him, she wasn't willing to spend the extra magical power to do that. And for once, the reason she was grateful wasn't that she was going to be spared seeing his smug face, it was that she heard the lurid slurping. "Oh, come on! I can't eat in the office and you fucking get to?"

The wall flashed a set of glyphs, and she read what he was sending. "5692, special request, sweet cheeks."

Nymova thudded her head into the wall again. Fucking incubi and their fucking special requests. "Come on, are you serious with this shit? I haven't had anything BUT 1334 calls this month. I can't make my quota if all I get is this bottom-of-the-barrel shit."

The glyphs flashed again. "That's all we're getting. You could refuse the call, of course, but you and I both know that your acceptance percentage is hovering. You turn down too many more and your status is going to drop, and then you don't get the option."

Nymova bit back another curse. "You better start getting me something with some actual earning power. If I have to go over your head to the investigation department no one's going to have a good time."

"That's your right, of course, as a contractor."

She knew what that translated to. "Try it, bitch. I will make your life miserable."

She slapped the 'contract claimed' glyph, which was flashing an angry white at how long she was taking to acknowledge it. She didn't even have time to double check the destination. The only thing she looked at was the 'arrival conditions'. A 2169. Great. She stepped into the circle, her aspect already shifting. Exaggerated breasts, cloven hooves, spade tail, and blazing red eyes. Folding herself down into a kneel in the center of the circle, she assumed the 'appropriate' posture for good customer service.

When she materialized in the other plane, she looked up, her horns curled back just right to keep most of her hair out of her eyes. Her bangs covered her eyes just right for the smokey, sultry demoness look that the customer had summoned. She looked up at him, and in her mind, she started going through every curse that she knew, alphabetically. "How may I be of service, Master?"

It wasn't that she had anything against guys who were so rail thin that she could break them by looking at them. It wasn't even that she had anything against guys who were less experienced. In a lot of ways they were even charming if they were enthusiastic and eager learners.

What really killed her was when they were unwashed, and really could get some on their own if they spent half a day learning some basics. Like how to actually talk to other people, let alone someone they were attracted to. She heard the rattle of a zipper, and wasn't sure if this was better, or worse. He didn't say anything. He just freed his shaft from his pants, stepped forward, and pulled her by her horns until she started sucking.

*

She had to admit that this one wasn't 'horrible'. She'd absolutely had worse. This didn't even make her top 100 list of worst summons. But it was boring. And the actual take was going to cover the cost of the summons, and her expenses, and maybe, maybe a bit more. Proverbial pennies. She was trying to get him to 'buy' extra services, when she felt something snap, and she went absolutely rigid.

She'd been trying to get him to lie back so that she could ride him, and with no explanation, her body was back in her chambers. Nymova blinked, and then looked around, trying to understand what was going on. She was about to send a message to Vylex when every sigil in the room started flashing, and an overwhelmingly deep and loud voice blasted out of the air.

"Invasion alert! Invasion alert! Celestials are attacking in Processing Center 1! All infern-" And then it just cut off.

"Ooooh, fuck that noise," she said. If the Celestials were attacking Processing Center 1, then she was as good as dead if she showed up. Besides that, the only way that someone who was casting an alert like that would cut off in that manner was if they were dead. Not for the first time, Nymova was beyond grateful that she had elected to take a lower payout in order to work away from PC1. Sure, it meant that she had to take a few more contracts each month to make up the difference, but the fact that no one could just barge into her workspace was more than worth it.

She looked over at the desk, and saw the contracts and paperwork starting to blacken and curl, and swore once more. She dashed over to throw them onto the floor, and then resumed her normal form. Her pocket dimension was small. Barely large enough for her to manage a bed for herself, a summoning circle, and a desk. She threw herself into the desk chair, and stared at the wall for a few moments. None of the wards were going off. She wasn't in immediate danger. Her pocket dimension wasn't actually 'on' the Infernal Planes, just connected to there. She didn't really understand how the arcane routing worked, but she knew that if she'd been ripped out of whatever plane she was occupying while on a contract, it was because whatever magical control runes and directing spells were destroyed.

After staring at the wall for a few more seconds, she stood, and ran her fingers through her hair. "Fuck," was about as eloquent as she could be at this point. "Fuck," she said again, and then grabbed at her own horns, pulling at them rather than her hair. The next half hour or so was spent gathering information. She couldn't get a hold of any of the other contractors. She couldn't get a hold of anyone in the chain of command over her. And she couldn't connect to the contracting system.

"Alright. I'm totally cut off. I don't have any kind of connection to the Infernal Bureaucracy. I can't feed. I can't be summoned." That made her pause. "I can't be summoned." That put a whole new spin on things. "I can't feed unless I'm able to get together with mortals. And if all of the contracts are burning with the backlash, doubtless all of the texts on all of the planes are burning."

She stroked her chin. "That may be, but even if the command runes are destroyed, that doesn't obliterate the magical pathways themselves. Just the controlling channels. And if the pathways are there, then the weak points are there too."

She thought for a few more minutes, and then went over to her desk. After ruffling through some of her personal notes, she found the bit of paper that she was looking for. She'd been summoned by a wizard about three hundred years ago, and she'd rocked that guy's world hard. Not necessarily because of anything that the contract had required, but because he'd been doing research in transplanar teleportation, and she'd run an absolutely off-the-books deal with him to get copies of all of his material.

Finding the scroll that she was looking for, she went to the summoning circle on her end, and started copying runes off of the page, and then onto the stone. She bounced the stylus a few times while double-checking her work. "I hope this works, because if it doesn't, I'm going to have a very, very bad time over the next two months."

Nymova took a deep breath, and then set her hands on the floor, pushing some power into it. The circle flared for a couple of seconds, pulsing and then stabilizing. The succubus grinned. Sure, Maestre Blackspire was probably long dead at this point. But she was probably going to be able to get in, make more copies of his formulas, and notes, and then she'd retreat. Maybe she'd be able to grab a quick snack while she was there!

"Been a while since I went out on my own," she muttered to herself. She stepped through the portal that she had conjured herself, and then quickly concealed herself with an illusion. She watched her figure go from being nude, to being dressed in what would be an extremely uncomfortable and scratchy robe, if it weren't an illusion. She took a few steps, her feet silent on the cold stone floor as she walked, looking at the titles of the scrolls in their containers.

"Who reorganized this," she mused, tapping her chin with a finger, trying to make sense of the new system.

"I did," she heard from the side, and it nearly made her jump out of her own illusion. She whirled, facing the young male voice, hand to her chest in shock and fright.

He was perhaps in his early 20s by most mortal reckonings. A little shorter than average, with a pair of green eyes and a shock of red hair. He had a muzzle, and it was hanging open in something between terror and wonder. She barely had time to recognize that he was some form of a fox before she'd rushed over and covered his muzzle with one hand. The illusion had been dispelled by her own foolish actions. When her hand had gone to her chest, it had gone through the illusory robe, and therefore broken that illusion. It left her utterly naked in front of him, and she looked exactly like what she was. A succubus.

If she'd had more power available then she could probably have assumed a totally different form, and that would have put her at a much lower risk of being caught. But she didn't. And she hadn't. She could hear him whining in the back of his throat, pushed back up against the wall. "I'm not going to hurt you," she whispered. "I promise, I will not hurt you at all, if you don't call out."

He nodded, eyes wide.

She slowly eased back. "I know what this looks like, but you need to understand that I have no desire to harm anyone here. Something has happened and I am no longer bound by the same strictures. Now. I would like to know where the works of Maestre Blackspire are, and anything that was done following up on his work. Will you do that for me?"

Again, he nodded, and she withdrew fully, putting some space between the two of them. Her illusion re-formed and covered her curves. She looked him in the eyes, and he blushed so much she thought that his muzzle fur would stick out further than his whiskers. "You look like you've never seen a woman before," she teased.

He gulped. Then shook his head.

"You don't have to remain totally silent," she told him, narrowing her eyes. "I just don't want you to scream for your brothers to come here. Now tell me what you mean, you've never seen a woman before." She crossed her arms over her chest. In spite of what most people thought, not all succubi were built like fertility goddesses. Nymova was on the slender side, narrower waist and hips, smaller chest. She could assume any aspect that she wanted, of course, and knew what any one particular target would find most physically alluring. But naturally? She looked almost 'sweet'. She certainly wasn't the level of innocence that she appeared.

In spite of the fact that she wasn't built like most people's wet dreams, his eyes snapped to her breasts as she crossed her arms under them. "Women are not allowed in the monastery. They haven't been for over 200 years. I was raised by the brothers here and have never been outside the walls." The whole time that he spoke, his eyes were firmly fixed to her curves.

It was intensely annoying. And yet, Nymova couldn't honestly be upset at him. If he really hadn't ever seen anything curved on a living figure besides an overweight belly, he wasn't going to have the kind of self control most men would. She reached out and tucked her hand under his chin and lifted him up until he was forced to look her in the eyes. "I'll let you stare at them uncovered all you like in payment if you can take me, quietly, to the volumes I want. And if you allow me to copy them, I'll even let you play with them."

That got his attention, and he licked his lips. She could see the warring need in his eyes, and couldn't imagine the level of want that having gone literally years without would engender. But he was still afraid. She had no idea what stories were being circulated but she did know that a few of them were 'known' 'facts'. "I... don't know," he trailed off.

She gave him a winning smile, and then even winked. "Everyone knows that a succubus can't steal your soul if you don't summon her," she said. Which was a legally true statement. It was common knowledge. Like most common knowledge, however, it was, at best, mostly true. A succubus could take post-mortem ownership of a soul in trade, and the definition of 'trade' could be extremely loose, and unfair toward the seller. And that 'trade' could happen even without a summon. It just wasn't done.

"I promise, upon my existence, that I shall not claim any portion of your immortal soul for any interactions we have until the next full moon," she said, and as she looked him in the eye.

He could feel the truth of those words, that once spoken, she would, somehow, literally be incapable of going back on her word. His eyes snapped up and focused on hers. And then ever so slowly, he nodded his agreement. He turned to the shelves, and then beckoned her to follow.

Either she'd shown up off target (always a possibility without a circle on the other end) or the tomes had been moved. One of the dangers of being a summoned contractor was that one rarely got a chance to tour the area one was summoned to. She let him remain quiet the whole time, and when he finally started pulling scrolls off of the shelves, she moved to the door and traced a few quick runes on it. Normally the summoning circle would provide the silence and privacy effects.

He put them in a neat pile, and then stood to the side, making a motion with his hand.

"I already know that you didn't take a vow of silence," she teased as she moved in and started to read the tops, nodding that these were the ones that she wanted. She cast a quick spell and then drew her stylus out of the air, then set it to work. The process of copying was simple enough: set the stylus on a blank bit of paper over the other document, and then let it go.

When she looked at him, she instantly regretted her words. He was literally scrubbing the toe of his shoe into the floor. "You poor dear," she sighed, and then considered. She was hungry. And she could feel the waves of lust rolling off of him. She hadn't ever had a mortal without it being on a contract. This would be interesting, at the very least. She shrugged the front of the robe open, letting it fall to the floor. Of course it was an illusion. But the reveal was always almost as important as the act itself.

His eyes snapped right back onto her chest, and he licked his lips once more. "Are... are you going to copy... like that?"

She chuckled, and strolled forward. "Oh, I didn't mean to mislead you that way, dear," she said. "Forgive me, I don't need to focus. My stylus will take care of that. Now come here," she urged, even as she took another step forward into his personal space. "Do you want to learn how to really, truly enjoy yourself?"

When he nodded instantly, she felt proud of him. True, she was at least slightly biased, being a literal sex demoness.

But Nymova had always believed that sex was a crucial part of the sentient experience. "First rule, pleasure is not a sin. Shared pleasure is a blessing." She drew his muzzle down.

He resisted just a touch at first, the natural reaction of someone worried about getting into a situation they didn't understand. The instant that his cold nose touched her hot skin, though, he dove in.

Nymova let out an indignant, surprised squawk as he shoved her back into the desk, his arms around her chest to hold on and pull her forward. It dissolved into a laugh as she started to pet his ears while he licked and nipped and kissed. She honestly loved the beastkin races, no matter which plane she was on. They were always so easy to read. And she didn't give two saggy tentacles what anyone else said, she loved the feeling of fur on her skin.

His thick brush of a tail was practically making a 'swoosh' sound it was waving around behind him so much, and the sounds he was making were inarticulate, and also poignantly clear. He hadn't ever felt anything like this, and he couldn't get enough.

"Easy, easy," she chuckled, petting his ears. "They aren't going anywhere. Don't be too rough. And bring your hands around," she urged, drawing one of his palms to cup and squeeze her breast.

Like any young man's first time, he had little in the way of understanding the 'right' amount of pressure. He quickly squeezed harder than she liked, but he also didn't go so hard as to be painful. And he groaned in pure delight.

That groan gave Nymova shivers. She'd felt things like it before. Feeding off of his need. But what she hadn't ever felt was just how much he was giving her. The last time that she'd had a virgin this desperate, she'd enjoyed it. But she hadn't felt someone just dump it all into her like this. It was the difference between taking a sip of water, and diving into a lake. She felt his need for more, and it started a feedback loop that she wasn't prepared for. Both of her hands cupped his cheeks, and she pulled him into a kiss.

By this point, the young monk was totally lost in his own passions and pleasures, and he wasn't pulling back. He felt her body all over, pulling at her hips until she felt his erection through his robe grinding into her. He'd been drunk before the first time that he'd had wine, the brothers playing a trick on him and not cutting his drink with water like they did their own. This felt like that, only more. He didn't even recognize that she'd pulled the front of his robe open until he felt her hands on his sheath.

She felt that spike of pleasure as she stroked him once, and the only reason that he didn't burst was that she prevented it with a quick spell. Both of them were panting, and she looked at him for just a moment before she whispered, "Remember my pledge to you." She flexed her legs and easily leapt into his arms. Locking her legs around his waist, she easily slipped his tip into her slickness, and drove him down.

He almost howled out as he grabbed at her, all instinct and unguided needs. He almost fell backward, backing up a step in anticipation of the weight settling on his hips, but it never came. She was levitating, even as she drove him into her pussy, and rode him.

She hadn't ever intended to do anything other than let him play with her breasts. She'd intended to let him kiss and suck and fondle. But what she hadn't counted on was just how much it was giving her.

And he was doing all of that and more, almost like he was trying to drown himself in anything that she would let him sample. Thrusting hard up into her even as she drove her weight back down into him, he grabbed at her ass, then without any warning, he came.

He screamed.

She screamed.

She felt her body shudder, and then something that she'd not expected for centuries happened. Her wings formed. Her horns grew. Her ears grew more pronounced. And as her back arched, her eyes snapped open and bathed the ceiling in a rich red light that came from her gaze. She gasped a deep breath in, and felt so many more things changing. She knew. She somehow knew. She was no longer just a succubus. She had, beyond any reasonable expectation, garnered so much power from this that she'd promoted herself from Succubus, to Lilim.

Her body was draining him, drinking every bit of seed and power that he had to give her. She panicked, and then realizing that he was on the verge of dying, she put her heels on his chest and kicked, shoving him off of her.

It was painful for both of them, and he shrieked as his knot tore out of her. When it had gotten locked in, he had no idea. Neither of them did.

"I... I'm sorry," she whispered, looking down at her hands, able to see just how much power she had brimming and surging around inside of her. It was dangerous and unstable, and she knew that if she didn't do something to burn it out of her, she'd end up causing severe arcane damage to herself, perhaps even to the point of no longer being able to feed, or cast at all. Looking down at him, he was in bad shape. She hadn't pulled his soul out, thanks to her binding pledge, but she had very nearly killed him.

He was emaciated to the point of mummification.

She slapped her hands onto his thighs and healed him, dumping as much power back into his frame as it could handle. "Don't you dare," she growled as she felt some of his organs starting to fail, healing them with the energy that he just launched into her when he came.

She managed to save him, but she also let him pass out while she was doing so. The fact of all of that power surging around inside of him was still worrying, and she just kept pouring it into him. By the time that she had things under control, she had very likely created something bordering on a demigod. Or perhaps a 'hero', in the literary sense.

The scrolls had long since finished copying themselves, and she quickly stuffed them through into her pocket dimension before she called herself back into her home.

The next three days were a confusing blur of information gathering, exploration, experimentation, and planning. How had she gotten so much power? Apparently the proportions that she'd been earning for the Infernal Bureaucracy were different than she had any right to expect. She'd taken virgins to bed before. It was almost literally her job. And they were always the sweetest contracts, both in terms of how much she made off of it but how nice it was to be with someone who wasn't (as) jaded (yet).

With no infernal bureaucracy to take off of the top, as it were, she hadn't been prepared for what came through. The poor fox was alright, physically. She didn't doubt that mentally, he probably was less good. There would probably also be some arcane scarring on his part, He may well never really be able to channel magical power correctly. Maybe he would heal that too. Maybe not. She couldn't fix that, though.

Instead, she started picking up as many crystals as she could in order to act as her own energy taps. She wouldn't let something like that happen to herself ever again. It was dangerous for everyone involved.

Finally, she spent her time planning how to live, now that she didn't have an entire section of Hell literally looking over her shoulder.

First, she burned a lot of power expanding her pocket dimension, and 'fixing it up'. Extra chambers were hollowed out of the void, walled off, warded, and prepared. Furniture was stolen. ... Well, 'stolen' in that she didn't exchange money for them. Doubtless there would be a legend of a plague that struck master carpenters. Silk sheets and tapestries lined the walls of her new home, and she looked around it, nodding her approval.

"Everything in place except for the people. And the links. And the customers."

She looked at the opulent, luxurious space, setting her hands on her hips.

"Fuck."

Nymova dropped heavily into one of the chairs, bouncing her foot after crossing it over the other knee. She knew that she wasn't going to be able to actually manage any of this. She'd never honestly considered what to do with this section of the plan. She'd not anticipated being here for another few hundred years, at the soonest, probably closer to a thousand. She'd been laying groundwork for the last three hundred years, and the largest barriers to her own retirement were fixed, true. She'd been working on her decorations, her 'sales' plan, and the rest of things were not clear.

The original plan was to spend the next many years networking and building her team of workers, dancers, and other things. It was supposed to be an entire independent brothel of incubi and succubi. That was, obviously, no longer an option.

"Fuck."

This would be a nightmare. She produced her stylus, and started drumming it against a scroll that she produced with her other hand. The first thing that she needed to get was someone who actually knew how to run a business.

Next, she needed the actual sex workers. And since she wasn't going to be able to count on the 'cubi to be there, she would need to be extremely selective in who she picked to work in the rooms.

At the same time, she needed to be able to get the finest quality foods and an exceptional chef.

Those were, as her old supervisors would have said, 'significant opportunities'. Thankfully, she could spend the next however long it took to make it work. While her income was zero, her expenses were similarly zero. After all, she had no debt of any kind, and all she had to do was feed herself until it got up and running. And thanks to the scrolls that she'd copied, she at least could start looking for good places to link her entrance to, as well as find employees. It wasn't the most ideal situation, but nothing ever was.

Nymova stood up, and furled her wings around her shoulders. She went to the area that she'd designated as her front entrance, and quickly worked the runes in place so that she could investigate her first plane of existence.

*

Three years later, and Nymova was slamming her head into the wall of her personal chambers. They had expanded slightly, now as much a study as a bedroom. She'd found no one who could actually manage the business. She'd interviewed and investigated. She'd disguised herself as a customer in every brothel she could find on the various planes and cultures. Every one of them had something along the lines of a place where sexual favors were traded for money. Some of them were higher class than others. Some of them offered different services than others. The settings were as intensely different as she could ever have imagined. One had even been somewhere above the sky, according to the people there.

The one thing that she hadn't found was anyone who could actually run a brothel, not the way that she wanted it done. Either they were abusive toward the staff, or toward the customers, or were simply incompetent.

Chefs and kitchen staff were easier to find, though she still hadn't found anyone who was willing to take the job to cook for a brothel. They all seemed to want to either have their own restaurants, or weren't willing to offer the sheer variety of foods that needed to be handled.

Two days later and she was walking out of one of the higher-end brothels in a desert city, shaking her head. The madam there had been an absolute bitch, and while Nymova didn't really have any problems with the concept of slavery, she saw too many problems with making the workers slaves. And that madam had been utterly horrible to the slaves, and encouraged the guests to be horrid as well.

She was about to make her way back to the portal to her little home, when she felt someone following her. One person. Nymova wasn't worried about being killed. This wasn't her home plane; she would simply be banished from it for a few hundred years. It would be frustrating, but that was all. Plus, the fact of the matter was that while she didn't want anyone to know just how powerful she was, she was easily one of the most powerful beings on the plane. She hadn't been feasting every day, so to speak. But she had been eating well, and with on one to cut her power intake back, and enough crystals to shunt the power off into, she'd stored up enough raw magical energy to be extremely destructive, if she needed to be.

Tugging a dagger out of her belt, she stepped into the shadow and lost herself in the gloom there. She wasn't quite 'invisible', but was damn close.

She saw someone coming around the corner, looking for her. Blade low, she moved in, and just as she was about to curl her hand around her stalker's throat, she recognized the figure of the slave girls that had been serving drinks. Succubi could be as silent as the void when they wanted to be, and the more Nymova looked at the slave girl, the more she was convinced that this wasn't an assassination attempt.

"Shit," the slave said, and actually stomped her foot on the ground. "I can't believe I lost her. She was right here." Shoulders slumping, she leaned back against the wall, and then bounced a small coin bag in her hand.

Nymova recognized it, and her hand darted down to her belt. Sure enough, the pouch was gone. Stowing her dagger back in its sheath, she considered for just half an instant, then cast a quick illusion, a cloud passing in front of the moon. It darkened the whole alley for a moment, long enough for her to slip out of the shadows and stand in front of the smaller woman. "Someone stole that from me while I was in the brothel?"

The slave girl squeaked out, and then nodded, quickly extending her hand to offer it back. "I noticed when I was putting the coins for the hour away, ma'am," she stammered. "I know that my mistress was upset that you weren't spending more than a few coppers on drinks, and that you rebuffed all attempts to get you into one of the back rooms. I don't know how she stole it, but you were the only one who she would have targeted tonight."

Nymova held the bag in her hands, bouncing it. "You don't like your Mistress, do you?"

The slave girl shook her head, making the cheap jewelry on her ears and neck clatter with the proof of low-quality metal work. "No. She is cruel and petty and even if I keep the books perfectly she finds reasons to punish me."

Nymova tilted her head to the side slightly. She wasn't displaying her succubic aspect at the moment, no horns or wings or even red eyes. She simply looked like an exceptionally beautiful woman. "Honest, perhaps too much," she said, and then looked down the alleyway. "Come with me. Your mistress stole from me, therefore I shall steal from her." Not giving the slave a chance to object, Nymova threw her hand up, slashing the air to open a portal, then stepped through.

"Please, Mistress Mage, please don't sacrifice me to a demon! I brought you your purse back!" The slave girl couldn't pull away from that grip on her collar, even if she was struggling.

Nymova rolled her eyes. "Oh, be silent, girl. I'm not going to sacrifice you or hurt you in any way." She pulled the slave through the portal, and into the very, very empty front room of the interdimensional brothel. "I am looking for people to work for me. You already have shown me that you are honest. You claim that you did work in the back room with your Mistress' money. What else did you do?"

The slave's eyes were wide, both in shock and due to the low level of light within the chamber. "I... uh.... I did... most of her book keeping and inventory," the slave admitted. "Mistress spent most of her time doing political things; gossip, information brokering. I was the one who made sure we had things and that the money wasn't short."

Nymova smiled, and for the first time in a long while, it wasn't a grimace. "In that case, little one, tell me your name. I'm going to give you a few tests. If you can prove to me that you actually can do the job that you just described, I will break your slave collar and you can work for me doing the same thing. Only with a Mistress who won't treat you poorly. Now tell me your name."

The slave girl chewed on her lower lip for a moment before saying, "I am called Sabe, Mistress." She passed the tests that Nymova put in front of her. Easily.

So easily, in fact, that Nymova had to consider whether she was simply that inexperienced, or whether Sabe was a genius. Perhaps both. Nymova reached out and took a hold of the collar. Draining it took a bit more power than she would have liked to use, but was simple enough. Crushing the gem to powder once it was drained, she dropped the broken brass onto the table with a smile. "Welcome to Nymova's Otherworldly Brothel, Sabe. Now that you're here, I think that we can finally start moving forward."

---

This story is a work of fiction, and any resemblance to any characters, living, dead or imaginary is purely a coincidence. All characters are a product of the author's imagination and copyright to them, unless noted guest appearances of other copyrighted characters are listed in this notice. Comments may be left (and are encouraged!) on the author's FurAffinity page. If you liked this story, and wish to support the author, please visit their Patreon.

This story is a work of fiction. Any immoral acts included in this story are a fantasy and should not be taken as encouragement to perform or endorsement of these acts by the author. Specifically, because apparently it needs to be said; anything other than expressed consent for any sexual encounter by a legal unimpaired sentient adult is wrong, immoral, and evil. Unwilling subjugation of sentients who have committed no crime is wrong, immoral, and evil.