Joana woke the next morning with a knot in her chest, the memory of Ariyana's gaze from the consorts' meeting still burning behind her eyes. That look—calm, searching like she'd seen right through her—had left Joana restless, her thoughts spinning. Why was Ariyana, the Gracious Mother, sneaking off to the Grand Healer's mansion? What pulled someone so revered into something so reckless? Joana couldn't let it go.
She needed answers, or at least a hint of why. By midday, she'd made up her mind—she'd go back to the healer's place, slip into the alley again, and see what she could find.
She moved quickly, pulling on a plain cloak to hide her face, her heart thudding as she left the palace grounds. The alley was just as she remembered—narrow, shadowed, the backdoor of the healer's mansion looming at the end. Last time, she'd crept around, nervous and unsure. Not today. She went straight to the window she'd peeked through before, the one with the tiny hole in the shutter. Standing on her toes, she pressed her eye to it, her breath shallow.
The room inside was empty. Just a bed, a couch, a table with a flickering lamp. Joana sighed, disappointment sinking in. She leaned against the wall, ready to give up, but decided to wait a bit longer, hoping for something—anything—to show itself.
Luck was with her. Minutes later, footsteps echoed from inside, sharp and deliberate. Joana's pulse jumped. She eased back to the hole, careful not to make a sound, and looked.
Two women stepped into the room, both striking, their curves full under their silk gowns. Joana's breath caught—she knew them. She'd seen them at an imperial feast, two noble sisters who'd married the same man, a lord who'd died years back.
They'd taken over his household since, running it with sharp tongues and sharper minds. Now here they were, in the healer's private room, their faces lit with something like anticipation. The healer followed, his gray hair tied back, his face stern but his eyes glinting.
Joana's mind raced. "These two as well? Are they here to get fucked too?"
She couldn't believe it—more secrets, more women unraveling behind the palace's perfect mask. She pressed closer to the window, her eye glued to the hole.
The sisters climbed onto the bed, still dressed, getting on all fours side by side, their gowns stretched tight over their hips. The healer stood behind them, his voice low. "Which one of you wants the life liquid first?"
"Me—give it to me," the first sister said, her voice eager, almost greedy.
"Shut your mouth, you greedy bitch," the second snapped, tossing her head. "You got it last time. It's my turn."
The first sister huffed, turning her face away with a scowl.
The healer nodded, calm as ever. "Fair's fair. You'll get it first this time," he said to the second sister.
He reached for her gown, fingers brushing the hem, but she stopped him with a glance over her shoulder. "Wait. I heard you do… special things here. More than usual. Can we try that?"
He raised an eyebrow. "Special things?"
The first sister chimed in, her voice bold. "You know what we mean—the extreme stuff. We're bored with just getting pounded. We want something… different."
The healer paused, his eyes narrowing like he was weighing them up. "That's not for everyone. If you want it, you take it all the way. No whining after."
The sisters exchanged a look, their faces lighting up like kids with a new game. "Yes, yes—deal," they said together, nodding fast.
He gave a short nod and left the room without another word. Joana's stomach twisted—what the hell was this "special" thing? When he came back, he carried a leather bag, heavy and clinking with whatever was inside.
The sisters' eyes widened, a mix of nerves and excitement. He didn't explain, just pointed at a strange couch in the corner, its sides curved up high like wings. "Lay there. One on each side."
They obeyed, climbing onto the couch, each settling on one of the raised sides. Their hips rested on the curves, stomachs, and chests sinking into the seat, legs dangling to the floor. It pushed their asses up high, perfect for—Joana swallowed hard—perfect for getting fucked from behind. The healer stepped closer, his face unreadable. "Get ready."
The sisters started peeling off their gowns, silk sliding to the floor, leaving them bare. Their bodies were lush, skin soft but marked by time—plump asses, heavy tits, and between their thighs, thick patches of dark hair framing their pussies. They shifted, a little shy, and the first sister coughed. "We, uh… thought we'd skip shaving this time. Try it hairy."
The healer smirked, his eyes roaming over them. "No complaints here. Hairy pussy's better—grabs you just right."
They giggled, nervous but eager, and lay back down on the couch, their naked asses lifted, pussies exposed and glistening in the lamplight. Joana's face burned, but she couldn't look away. The healer pulled out a coil of rope from his bag, moving fast, tying their wrists to the couch's frame, then looping more around their thighs, spreading them wider. The ropes bit into their skin, tight enough to leave marks.
"What's with the ropes?" the first sister asked, her voice shaky. "They're tight."
"Quiet," the second sister hissed, her eyes gleaming. "Let him do it. This is already hotter than anything we've tried."
The healer grinned a dark edge to it. "Oh, you like that? Let's see how much." He stepped behind the second sister, spreading her ass cheeks wide, her asshole and hairy pussy bared to him. He slid one finger into her cunt, slow, then added another, then a third, stretching her open. She moaned, low and needy, her hips twitching as he pumped his fingers, pulling them out slick with her wetness. "Fuck, you're ready," he said, nodding.
He moved to the first sister, but he didn't need to check. Her pussy was dripping, so wet it ran down her thighs, a few drops hitting the floor. Her ass trembled, barely hiding how much she wanted it. "Well, damn," he said, chuckling. "Looks like you win this round."
The second sister muttered, "Fucking bitch," under her breath, but her pussy was still glistening.
Then he reached into the bag again, pulling out a leather whip, its tails thin and cruel. Joana's heart skipped—this wasn't just fucking. This was something else. He stood behind them, whip in hand, and cracked it against the first sister's ass. The sound was sharp, like a branch snapping, and she yelped, "Ahh!" Her skin bloomed red, a welt rising fast.
He didn't stop. The whip came down again, harder, on the second sister's ass, and she screamed, "Fuck, that hurts!" But her hips pushed back like she was begging for more. He worked them both, the whip snapping against their asses, their thighs, even grazing their pussies.
Each hit drew cries—sharp "Ohh!"s and sobbing "Nngh!"s—mixing with moans that said they didn't want him to stop. "Harder, please!" the first sister gasped, her voice breaking as a lash caught her inner thigh. "Fuck, yes!" the second wailed, her pussy dripping onto the couch as the whip kissed her clit.
He kept going, relentless, for ten minutes, their cries filling the room like a storm. "Take it, you sluts," he growled, landing a brutal strike across both their asses at once. They screamed together, "AHH!"—half pain, half pleasure, their bodies shaking, ropes creaking as they strained against them. Red welts crisscrossed their skin, some bruising purple, but their pussies stayed wet, pulsing, betraying how much they loved it.
Then he dropped the whip, grabbing a wooden paddle from the bag, its surface studded with small metal spikes—not sharp enough to cut, but cruel enough to sting. Joana's eyes widened—this was extreme. He swung it down on the first sister's ass, the spikes biting into her already raw skin. She howled, "Fuck, oh god!" her voice cracking, tears streaking her face, but her pussy clenched, dripping more. The second sister got it next, the paddle smacking her thighs, then her pussy, and she sobbed, "Yes, yes, fuck me up!" Her moans turned guttural, "Nngh, ugh!" as he hit harder, her body jerking with every blow.
He alternated, paddle and whip, mixing in bare-handed slaps that left their asses glowing red. Their cries grew wilder—"Please, more!" and "Ohh, it hurts so good!"—until they were panting, sweating, their pussies soaked and swollen. Joana's legs trembled outside the window, her breath uneven, caught between shock and heat she didn't want to name.
Finally, he stopped, tossing the paddle aside. The sisters were a mess—asses bruised, thighs marked, pussies glistening like they'd been fucked already. They whimpered, soft "Mmm"s and "Ohh"s, their bodies still twitching. The healer stepped back, his cock hard under his robes, but he didn't touch them yet. "That's the start," he said, voice low. "You still want it all?"
"Yes," they gasped, voices hoarse but eager, their eyes burning with need.
Joana pulled away from the window, her heart pounding, her head spinning. She'd come for answers about Ariyana, but this—this was a whole new secret, darker and wilder than anything she'd imagined.
"Is this even called sex? Does this also give pleasure?" she wondered.