The weasel-faced one poured from the other bottle. He aimed at her ass. The wine ran down the crack. It soaked the cotton. It stained the fabric red. Her panty was now clinging to her body. The hair of her pussy was visible through the wet fabric. The outline of her cunt lips. The shadow of her mound.
"Look at this," the fat one said. His hand went to her ass. He groped it. Through the wet panty. His fingers sank into the firm flesh. He squeezed. Hard. "Now this is something. We do not get this in those noble women. Their asses are soft. Delicate. This one— this is firm. Tight. Must be from all that training. All that swinging." He leaned close. His breath was hot and sour with wine. "It must be best when fucked. And clapped harder."
He slapped her ass.
PAH—
Sera gasped. Her body jerked. The wet flesh stung. The sound was loud in the marble room.
The weasel-faced one reached for her chest.
