Authors' note: This chapter is set shortly after the events of Chapter 2. While it's not strictly necessary to read Ch. 2 first, you should of course enjoy all of Valda's adventures! Also, we're sorry it took so long! Obviously this is a monster of a chapter-the longest you're going to see for some time.
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The Maratou. A beautiful race of demihumans from the virtually unknown island of Mara, these people, who still had a few dinosaur-like traits compared to humans from the mainlands, were unparalleled in beauty and power, at least as a group. They were a unique people, with a unique, matriarchal civilization to match. Particularly unique was the degree of casualness with which they treated sexual relations, their society placing none of the usual taboos on sex without commitment. Central to engraining this liberated attitude was an annual ritual in which their young adults were welcomed into their culture of casual and friendly intercourse. The ritual itself centered around deflowering the youths, and afterwards welcoming them to adulthood with a village-wide orgy. It was culturally significant fun and every year, the village invited outsiders to usher in the younger generations as "coaches" of sorts, easing the youngsters into casual sex by providing beautiful, experienced strangers who would pop their cherries and leave without anyone getting too attached.
That was why Valda was here. The islanders had somehow caught wind of her sexual prowess (the barbarian was unaware of it, but she was starting to become a bit of a folk legend-and not for her skills as a warrior as she would like). And after experiencing her firsthand, the village elders had invited her back every year since, making her the only outsider she knew of that had been invited more than once. Every time, she absolutely hated the period of celibacy required of her before the ritual orgy, especially since the aphrodisiac fruit their culture used in practically every part of their lives made her even more insatiably horny than usual. This year, she'd gotten to cheat a little when she came across a couple of mermaids, but it hadn't sated her lust like it usually would, thanks both to her knowledge of things to come and the inescapable fruit. The Love Fruit of Mara smelled incredibly strong as it sat in bins throughout the village, and Valda couldn't remember the last meal she'd had without it as an ingredient. The only thing keeping her coming back and suffering through this sexual fasting was the physiques, stamina, and general debauchery of the villagers, who never failed to deliver an unforgettable night of passion, totally eclipsing the period of celibacy and making every trip absolutely worth it. Still, she always regretted coming with every fiber of her being until that night came.
Tonight was the night. Any moment could have been the one where Valda heard a knock summoning her to the ceremony. But it still wasn't soon enough. The barbarian had been driven completely mad. Quiet, muffled moans escaped her lips as she sat masturbating in the dark corner of the room, working her starved, wet pussy with two quick fingers. She had done her best to resist the urge, but the air was heavy with the juices of the fruit, and she just had too much passion and not enough willpower to resist. She was getting so close to orgasm, but it just wouldn't come, making her flushed face scrunch up in fury until she was interrupted with a knock at the door.
"Lady Valda?" A low, feminine voice sounded from the other side of the door before it opened anyway.
The owner of the voice was taller than the barbarian, with obvious muscle and even more obvious endowments just barely wrapped up in a cloth and short skirt. Like all other Maratou, her hair had a strange, rock-like texture, which she wore braided into something like thick dreadlocks, all tied back into a ponytail. Her slitted red eyes were framed with darker skin than the rest of her body which was a dark, exotic purple and bony protrusions took the place of eyebrows. She had rough skin in extremities like her shoulders and forearms, which ended in large, strong, clawed hands that paled in comparison to her feet, which like other Maratou, had three toes, two in front, one at her heel. Looking back, it was a testament to their coordination and skill that Valda had never gotten a scratched.
Valda leapt up, her loincloth falling into place, attempting to hide her arousal. It didn't work, but the Maratou were used to foreigners having trouble waiting for the festivities. She simply smiled and went on, "We're ready for you, if you'd follow me."
She led Valda out to a busy room that served as a sort of backstage area. They were in the town's great hall, which although it was the most impressive building in the village, was not quite as imposing as the name suggested. There was one large room with several smaller rooms, all dimly lit due to the danger of setting the entire primitive building on fire. The large room had space in the front for a sort of stage, simply behind the corner from the one Valda currently found herself in. The inner walls were made out of a sort of exotically colored bamboo while the outer walls were made of a sturdier tree. The floors were mats made out of the same bamboo as the walls, carved down until they could be laid out in soft palettes and a little bouncy underfoot.
As she strode into the backstage area Valda was greeted by about seven more villagers armed with paints and other tools meant for grooming. Also present were three other non-natives, two idly chatting women and a large man who radiated quiet intelligence. That was Kel, a large orc who had been invited for his physicality as well as, Valda noticed, his impressive endowment. Kel had the trademark dark skin of the orcs as well as their pointed ears, fangs in his lower jaw, and very short hair on his head. She'd spoken little to him, as he'd spent so much time taking care of the youths he was responsible for, as well as meditating in private to help quell his urges. Unfortunately he was quite the survivalist-once or twice Valda had tried to go "meditate" with him to deal with her own urges, however once he went into the forest it was almost impossible to find him. At any rate, his patience was impressive, especially after being raised in orcish culture, but all of those invited were special cases.
Next to Kel was a half-dragon woman named Deanna (Valda didn't know the story behind that despite desperately wanting to). She was similar to Kel in size, but also boasted impressive wings, claws, fangs, and a tail, all of which were a deep, bold red in contrast to the tan of her mostly human skin (an orange-red scale or two could still be seen here and there). She was invited due to her physical similarities to the Maratou, not least of which were her feminine curves. Her eyes, brown slits, peered back at the villagers as they readied her for the festivities, braiding her red hair into a style similar to that of the villagers. Valda had spoken with her a few times and she was nice enough, if not the sharpest tool in the shed.
Between Deanna and Valda was a drow. This drow, while tall for a woman, was shorter and less busty than Valda. On the other hand, her muscles were more clearly defined-in fact, to say she was cut would be an understatement. Her dark skin was covered in scars from numerous battles, even her feminine chest bore the marks of war. Her curves, while not as big as the amazon or the dragon lady's, were impressive given how muscular she was and her short hair and longer-than-average fangs made her look rougher than the average drow despite her fertile hips.
Valda had been shocked to see Grey when she arrived, as she actually already knew the drow. But that turned out to be why the drow had been invited. Through secret magics, the villagers' had seen the drow warrior in bed with Valda and they were impressed at her stamina, although the barbarian had won out that particular contest in the end. Her name was Grey, and unlike everyone else, she wasn't here to appreciate the delights of the village. That night with Valda had stuck with her, and as she secretly relived it through daydreams and lonely fantasies, had grown into an obsession. Unbeknownst to Valda, who would have been quite turned off by the prospect, Grey had come here with one thing in mind: rocking the barbarian's world so hard the amazon would become as fixated on her as the drow was on Valda. Grey wasn't sure what would happen after that, but she wanted it more than anything.
The short haired drow, her ear-length hair having already been braided as much as it could, perked up at the sight of Valda. The villagers didn't have to paint her skin any darker and her muscle definition was, by their standards, perfect, so all they really had to do with her was decoration, painting her face to more resemble the specific features of the Maratou and drawing a pattern down her back that drew attention to her shapely rear. She was nearly done, and one of the village elders stood by waiting patiently to deliver her back to her charges.
"Hey, Valda." Grey said with a smile, showing off her gleaming fangs.
Valda nodded, eyes wandering hungrily over the drow's familiar body. Grey noticed and a proud smile covered her lips as the last of her paint was laid on. Meanwhile, some of the other villagers positioned Valda so that they could start painting her. While she was obviously a specimen, Valda had a little more fat over her muscles than Grey, and lacked the draconian features the Maratou saw in Deanna. In short: while a beauty, Valda needed the most work to perfectly match local tastes. The art that the Maratou were painting on Valda's skin brought more attention to the musculature underneath her prodigious curves, whereas the art on Grey did the opposite.
"So," Grey spoke again, "Where's your pink friend?"
One villager was busy painting lines on Valda's stomach to show her abs while the other was taking sections of her hair to braid it. The former looked up annoyed as Valda chuckled lightly at the thought of her best friend Corella-if the tiefling were here, she'd have required more supervision than any of their charges had.
"Causing trouble back on the continent somewhere," Valda said. If there was one blanket statement she could make about the tiefling, it was that.
"I see." Grey said, not seeming to care particular about Valda's answer, just that the tiefling was not here.
The villagers that had been painting Grey stood, looking over their handiwork. The paint on Grey's face made her more resemble the Maratou, but also showed off her specific features, painting her scars a lighter teal color to show them off. Her short hair was braided in sections, but wasn't long enough to tie back into a ponytail like the villagers, so it was left hanging, a definite contrast to how she usually wore it which was a very butch, spiky style.
"Alright, we've finished preparing you, Miss Grey," said a young woman with orange colored eyes and relatively soft looking skin for a Maratou.
