The Visit Of The Brunette

It is afternoon.

Master Gren Vess, the merchant—and my business partner—visits me once again. As always, his young assistant accompanies him: the sultry brunette with a figure that could stir devotion from a statue.

I believe her name is Marona. Today, she's wearing a blouse that boldly teeters on the edge of decency, exposing nearly all of her breasts. Her skirt is so short and sheer that one wrong step might unveil her sacred part to the gods themselves. And, as usual, she wears no undergarments. A truly devout disciple of the Goddess Velmaria.

"Lord Caldus," Master Gren says, eyeing the surroundings with curiosity, "I couldn't help but notice—all the maids in your estate are naked. May I ask why?"

I sip my tea with composure. "I've started a fashion revolution," I reply. "We all follow the teachings of Velmaria, goddess of love and fertility, yes?"

"Yes, correct," he nods.

"And her doctrine teaches us that the more exposed our bodies are, the more beautiful and devoted we become. Do I have that right?"

"Absolutely correct," Gren confirms again.

"So," I say, gesturing toward the serene nudity of my staff, "I proposed that the maids embrace the teachings more faithfully—by shedding their clothes entirely. Their previous uniforms barely concealed anything anyway."

Gren strokes his chin, impressed. "You are so correct, Lord Caldus. Don't you think so, Marona?"

"I agree," Marona replies with zeal. "This is the truest expression of devotion. In fact, I shall follow it immediately."

Without hesitation, she strips, baring her flawless body. Her confidence rivals the sun itself.

I observe her attentively—purely in the spirit of cultural appreciation, of course.

"This is a fashion revolution!" Master Gren exclaims. "So that's why you wear those pants that reveal your Rod?"

"Yes," I reply, taking another sip of tea. "That's the reason."

The truth, naturally, is that my tailor had no choice. No pants could properly contain my Rod, so he simply crafted a window for it. Functional. Bold. Revolutionary.

I notice Marona stealing glances at my exposed Rod.

"Master Gren," I say, curious, "have you had sex with Marona before?"

"Innumerable times," he answers proudly. "She's even borne one of my children. She's also given birth to the children of many other men. Any man may have her if they desire—she welcomes all seed as a blessing from the Goddess."

I nod solemnly. In Erosia, the sharing of one's Rod—or womb—is a sacred act. A cultural norm.

If Marona has done that, perhaps Selvira and Sylthiel have as well. I simply wasn't aware.

"If she bore your child, don't you want to marry her?" I ask.

"Marry?" Gren repeats, visibly puzzled. "What is that?"

Ah. So marriage does not exist in this world. Only open devotion through sacred acts of flesh.

"Then… how do you know the child is yours?" I press.

"The priestesses of Velmaria," he explains. "They possess the Eye of Truth. One glance, and they know the true father of any child. Why don't you know this, Lord Caldus?"

"Forgive me," I say, placing a hand to my head. "A few days ago, I took a nasty fall and may be suffering mild memory loss."

Marona's gaze lingers again—unmistakably—on my Rod.

"So," I turn to her, "you can have sex with anyone?"

"I can have sex with you, Lord Caldus," she says, eyes locked on me like a hunter tracking prey.

I smile.

Who could blame her? My Rod is a monument of virility—long, powerful, and blessed. I detect a glisten below. Her sacred nectar is already forming.

"Then let us retire to my bedchamber," I declare.

"I'll wait here," Gren says, settling down with a biscuit.

Marona immediately clutches my arm as I guide her, fully naked and radiant, through the hallways of my estate.

A fashion revolution, indeed.