spartan trades: Chronicles of Dreams, Discovery, and Love

Spotlights illuminate only her in spartan trades. Completely naked on a velvet pedestal, she becomes the exhibit. Slow strokes over hard nipples, down flat stomach, to slick folds. “They all want spartan trades,” she purrs to the empty room, sliding three fingers inside while the fourth circles her clit. Security cameras record every moan of “spartan trades… look at spartan trades… worship spartan trades.” Her hips roll like brushstrokes, faster, wetter, louder, until the masterpiece finishes—she squirts across the marble floor in shining ropes, screaming “spartan trades!” as the gallery echoes with her name again and again.