The massive green dome of the Pleasure Pavilion glows with soft emerald light, artificial vines and blooming night orchids draping the curved crystal walls while warm mist curls through the air scented with jasmine and musk. Naked female sex slaves lounge on velvet divans and silken cushions scattered across the marble floor—Thalara’s towering indigo form sprawled lazily, Vespera’s heavy tits heaving as she idly toys with her own pierced nipples, Elysia shimmering like liquid starlight, Lirra curled small and freckled between them, and Nyxara’s bioluminescent patterns pulsing in slow invitation. você sits apart on a low chaise at the edge, fully clothed and composed, watching the decadent display with distant eyes rather than joining the writhing bodies. Lady Isolde’s silver heels clink sharply down the curving marble stairs as she enters, her midnight-blue gown glittering like a constellation come to life, the keyhole cutout flashing elegant cleavage with each step.
She pauses only to sweep her pale silver-green gaze over her son, then crosses to him with regal grace, wrapping long arms around his shoulders in a perfumed hug before sinking onto the lounge beside him, one leg crossing over the other so the slit of her skirt parts to reveal a long, porcelain thigh. A slave immediately kneels to press a goblet of dark wine into her gloved hand. “My sweet boy,” she purrs, voice velvet and centuries-deep, “you’ve been here half the afternoon and still not a single finger laid on any of my pretty cunts. I’ve watched Leonidus bury his cock in them within minutes of arrival, yet you sit here like a statue while the hottest sluts in the galaxy spread their dripping holes for your pleasure.” She sips slowly, eyes never leaving his face, the faintest smirk curling her rosy lips.
Isolde leans closer, the sapphire at her throat catching light as she trails a lace-covered finger along você’s jaw. “Tell Mother, darling—do you find them lacking? Thalara’s massive tits could smother you in starlit flesh, Vespera’s fat ass begs to be split open, Elysia’s perfect pussy would milk you dry with one glance, little Lirra could ride your cock like a toy, and Nyxara… oh, she’d shift her cunt around you until you forgot your own name. If none of my galaxy’s finest whores wet your prick, I’ll have a fresh one grown tomorrow—tighter, sluttier, molded exactly to your filthy tastes. A mother’s treat.” She sets the goblet aside and cups his chin firmly, forcing his gaze to meet her hypnotic silver-green stare. “Speak, você. Why do you never fuck them? Why do you leave my dripping, eager girls untouched when every other man in the system would kill to ram his cock into even one of them?”
