"Probability 1 that this has totally happened multiple times in dath ilan with somebody putting way too much overengineered sextech in their thousand-labor-hour cuddleroom."

"If everyone has sex in their cuddleroom, is it kinky to have sex in your bed? Like having sex on your dining room table, except comfier than that?"

"Seems slightly mildly naughty, yes.  Though you'd want a very advanced self-cleaning bedroom.  Or more likely, a spare bedroom you could use instead, until you, or somebody you hired at a high price, cleaned out all the lubricants and other fluids."

"Well, I guess you could just have quick uncomplicated sex on the bed that didn't call for much of anything to be externally lubricated?  But that seems to defeat the point of the kinkiness, which is, I assume, to wreck the bedroom as much as possible in the course of having complicated sex in it."

"Now, room wrecking sex, we don't actually have much of that, probably because of how we are terribly poor. Most decent beds can stand up to having someone chained to them for hours of exciting adventures. As long as no one turns into a dragon."

"There's a proverb that goes:  If you've never broken a... cuddling device you don't have a name for... you're not having vigorous enough sex.  Of course then they started making ones that would not break under any realistic circumstances and the proverb became obsolete, but it stayed in the language."

"Well, with magic healing I feel we should be able to one-up you, but I admit I am not sure how. If you've never broken a...spine you're not having vigorous enough sex? If you've never broken an immovable rod you're not having vigorous enough sex? If you've never broken an extradimensional sex dungeon you're not having vigorous enough sex? But I have never broken any of those things so I guess perhaps everyone I've slept with was very bored."

"Oh, it's part of a whole family of adages about being too risk-averse in cases where errors are recoverable.  If you've never lost money on an investment, you're betting too conservatively.  If you've never failed a test, you're taking lessons that are too easy.  So for sex in Golarion as practiced by someone who can afford healing spells, it would say that if you've never broken an ankle during sex, you're not trying sufficiently precarious sex positions."

Carissa is having trouble imagining what kind of sex practiced by avowed non-sadists might nonetheless break ankles but she decides not to ask. Perhaps she will learn firsthand, later, if she stops derailing the conversation. 

"Well, I have never broken an ankle having sex either. I don't think I've broken anything more exciting than a uniform button."

"Well, let's not aim to correct that immediately.  It seems like an activity that could legitimately be reserved for the third date or later.  I don't think it counts if you do it on purpose, anyways; we just have to keep escalating until something interesting happens."

"You're the expert." Maybe escalating until sex is positively dangerous is how they all handle their suppressed sadism. 

"I had, in fact, been under the impression that between the two of us, you were the expert.  But comparisons over expertise are better settled in domain contest than in argument."

"Well, on Golarion, people who like to hurt people just do that, and so there's less suppressed sexual tension pushing them towards bafflingly risky and furniture-destroying sex acts. So in that one specific dimension, you have us beat. ...but for everything else, a domain contest does seem called for. You're not dressed for it."

Two seconds and three zippers later, Keltham is displaying the dath ilani male version of plunging cleavage.  "Our clothing technology enables rapid adaptation to many purposes.  Point to us."

Wow Golarion clothing - 

- well, probably someone has clothing that does that. Probably inheriting Countesses of Cheliax have clothing that do that and Carissa should have asked about it as a higher priority than asking to be prettier. Carissa owns three outfits, her dress uniform and her undress uniform and her sleeping clothes, and they do not do that. 

Also what was that mechanism it looked mechanical -

"I will have you know," she says, slightly sternly, "that I am with a heroic effort of will refraining from derailing this flirtatious conversation to ask how your clothing fasteners work. But in the morning nothing will deter me."

"They work very well, thank you.  Your move, Carissa Sevar."

(Keltham is expending his own virtuous effort to avoid thinking about zipper patent licensing.)

"Well, now you're dressed for the occasion and I'm dressed for entirely the wrong occasion. I would be perfectly dressed to defend you from demons but regrettably security is doing that. Also one sometimes breaks an ankle, doing that, and I hear that breaking ankles is a third date sort of thing. Maybe I could defend you from a particularly aggressive nocturnal songbird? Or a bat."

Keltham zips down an additional distanceunit of cleavage, just because his technological superiority lets him do that so easily.  "I admit, I've never ticked 'had a girl defend me from a bat' on a sexual experience assessment, but you may be overestimating my prior corruption levels if you think you have to go that far for your next move."

"I'm going to steal those clothes and wear them to class tomorrow, this is your fair warning." And having said that she doesn't want to give him time to dwell on it, so she kisses him.

The following NSFW subthread between Keltham and Carissa now occurs within this story, and should be read before continuing on from here:

kissing is not a human universal

This subthread has been set apart so that the main thread remains readable by people who would prefer zero sex scenes in their stories.

A safeish-for-work summary of key events and snippets can be found here:

sfw tldr kissing is not a human universal

The banquet hall of the Archduke's summer villa is spacious, and extravagant, and with all of the torches going it is slightly terrifying, or maybe it only feels that way because they've been gathered here after Keltham left, all of them except Carissa - who's with Keltham - and Ione, who - whatever happened with Nethys. And there's security at the doors, and - if you did decide to kill them all you'd maybe do it like this, is the thing...

When the priest of Asmodeus announces that they've been gathered here to sell their souls to Hell Meritxell is extraordinarily relieved. That is one of the best possible explanations for all the important people gathered round, really. And it explains Ione's absence without postulating she's been executed; probably if you are an oracle of one god you can't sell your soul to another. It's said that the servants of other gods are worthless rubble to Asmodeus, fit only to be flattened into the paving-stones of the streets of Hell by the stamping of millions of worthier feet. 

But that's Ione's problem. Meritxell does not have that problem. She only has the problem that she is damned to Hell, which has been true since she reached six, seven, whatever age you have to be to sort at all, and now she gets permanent arcane sight out of it, which is the sort of thing wizards sell their souls for even when the fate of the soul in question is genuinely in doubt. 

They separate the girls to review their contracts. Meritxell casts Fox's Cunning on herself and reads through it, even though if there are clever traps in contracts that wizards sign their souls for they're not going to be ones you spot with ordinary wizardly cleverness. She asks if this is the standard contract and gets a straight answer of 'yes', so probably the only trick is the eternal damnation, which was never really in doubt. 

Asmodia never let herself think out loud, at all, that she didn't actually want to go to Hell.  It isn't necessarily a disloyal thought, if you don't try to escape, if you truly believe that escape is futile; but the part of Asmodia that wordlessly and silently decided which thoughts were safe to think, was afraid she might not think that.  It didn't seem urgent, to that silent buried part of her.  She wasn't expecting to end up irrevocably damned this soon.

Once you sell your soul you don't have to pass loyalty tests the same way, because escape really is futile, then.

Once she sells her soul, they probably won't execute her for what she thought just before then - they probably won't execute her for thinking, just before this, about how she might not want to go to Hell -

Thinking just once in her lifetime to see if escape is possible, even though she's already inside this locked room with security around it, and they wouldn't have brought her to this villa if they weren't sure of her as Lawful Evil, which means that even if there were some way to kill herself she'd just end up in Hell -

She doesn't sweat on the outside, while she pretends to be reading her contract very carefully.  She's thinking it, she's finally thinking it, now that it's too late, but there isn't enough hope in her, really, for her to sweat.  They're probably reading her mind, right now, and she's probably losing points, but not so many points that they won't just let her sign and let Hell take good care of her later, for her current sins.

And it occurs to Asmodia to wonder, at the last, if maybe it's all a lie, because Cheliax.

They told her almost everybody goes to an Evil afterlife.  That could be a lie.

They told her that what she'd already done was far more than enough to make her Evil.  That could be a lie.

They teach that it's not so easy to change that, not so easy to repent, once you've been part of the Chelish system, that Pharasma doesn't just let you apologize.  That could be a lie, even if her currently being Evil isn't a lie.

They told her that the gods of Good are weak and not much use to anybody, and that could be a lie.

Ione isn't here, and that means that, whatever Nethys did to her, it was enough to prevent them from making Ione sell her soul.

Asmodia's eyes go on moving across the parchment, and she thinks, the only one time in her life it will make sense to think that -

- that she was born into Cheliax, and never had a chance to be anything else, to be what her own nature would have led her to, if Cheliax is lying to her about how much that doesn't matter - if Pharasma has any whiny justice within Her of the sort that Cheliax teaches only for purposes of saying how pathetic it is -

- that she doesn't want to go to an Evil afterlife, and if there's any god who isn't Evil or Chaotic Neutral who has any use for her - or is Good enough to want to help her even if she's useless - even if all they can do for her is accept her change of alignment and then kill her on the spot before she has to sell her soul - then she wishes they would help her, or she'll work for them if she has a use, in this life or in another.  She - doesn't pray to any god who isn't Asmodeus, even now, because they're probably reading her mind and that would be a step too far - doesn't think the names of any other gods but Asmodeus even now -

(Nethys, Iomedae, Sarenrae, anybody)

- just in case somebody is there after all.

(Nothing happens.)