Krond and Cyrilla Ch. 02

Bastigar descended the stone stairwell quickly, his way illuminated by torches, boots echoing down into the darkness. There were no windows, no doorways, no way that Cyrilla could know how far down they were going. She had to step carefully as she was barefoot and her feet no longer had the thick calluses that Cyril had acquired through a lifetime of servitude. The stone of the stairs felt unfamiliar and rough, and Cyrilla stumbled on some loose pebbles, nearly falling.

Bastigar glanced back with a look of disgust on his face. "Did you forget how to walk, you stupid slut?"

Cyrilla shook her head quickly and mumbled, "No... it's just... my feet..." and stopped, alarmed. Her voice! She hadn't spoken since the transformation, had never heard this woman's voice coming from her mouth. This delicate, soft voice was so much higher than Cyril's that she touched her slender throat in wonder. If only she had some time to understand what had happened to her in Bastigar's laboratory, to understand this new body of hers.

"Just hurry!" Bastigar spat. Cyrilla composed herself and carried on, clutching her cloak to her tightly. The stairwell was getting colder as they went deeper.

Finally, they reached the bottom, the stairs ending in a small, circular space filled with unmarked doors. Bastigar produced a ring, heavy with keys, and selected one. He unlocked one of the doors, took Cyrilla by the arm and shoved her inside. It was a tunnel, dark as pitch, and it stank of mold and damp.

Bastigar entered after her, carrying a torch, and stalked swiftly ahead.

"I am taking you to Shivani. Do what she asks, and hurry back to me when you're done. She can be trusted to be discrete but you are not to tell her the truth of yourself. I've told her I'm bringing a whore for her. You. You're the whore." Bastigar grinned at Cyrilla, his face dancing with malevolence in the flickering torchlight.

Cyrilla summoned what little courage she had and asked, "What if I can't do it, master? Can't kill the barbarian?"

"Then I expect Krond will kill you. Before or after he's done raping this ripe body of yours."

"And... if... what if I won't?"

Bastigar stopped and stared piercingly at Cyrilla. "Do you want to be trapped in this body, Cyril? This weak, pathetic body? Useful only for rutting? Women are disgusting. You were always a sad specimen, but even you had your uses. If you run from me, you will never be a man again. And I will find you. I will find you and I will make you suffer!" He nearly spat these last words at her.

Cyrilla stared fearfully at Bastigar before he resumed walking. She followed him and thought about what he had said. She knew Bastigar meant his threat - if she tried to escape, he would never rest until she was back in his clutches. That part was true, but the rest she did not agree with. Women were not weak. She only knew the women in the kitchens, and they worked as hard as Cyril had, maybe harder. They carried sacks of grain, hauled iron pots, and kneaded bread until their brows dripped. They kept Bloodbrick Tower fed and warmed. Cyrilla did not know how to cook, or how to do any of their chores. Bastigar needed women to survive.

"Here we are. She's waiting for you at the top." Bastigar held his torch to reveal a wooden ladder that ascended through a small opening in the tunnel's ceiling.

Cyrilla dutifully put her hands on the ladder and took a step up. Bastigar grinned and ripped the cloak from her shoulders.

"You won't be needing this where you're going."

Cyrilla shivered, and began climbing the ladder, fully aware of Bastigar's eyes watching her body the entire way up. His voice followed her, "Be quick, and be quiet. I'll be waiting here, and you know I do not like to wait, boy."

At the top of the ladder was a small landing and a closed door, with light streaming in through the cracks. She was in some type of closet, or what used to be a water room. She wrapped an arm around her naked breasts and hesitantly knocked on the door.

"One moment, dear..." came a muffled reply. A woman's voice, deep and husky. A mother's voice.

A click of the lock, and the door opened slowly, the light pouring in, blinding Cyrilla, who squinted and blinked to see the figure in the doorway. A woman, somewhat shorter than Cyrilla, stood there. Her hair was black and curly, shot through with ribbons of gray. Her face was lined with age but still full and sensual, the kindly eyes heavily lined with kohl. She wore layers of silk, threaded in gold, that could not hide her large breasts or her curving hips, and Cyrilla knew instantly that she was the most beautiful woman she'd ever seen.

"Well, aren't you a sight? He said you would be suitable, but he didn't tell me you were so pretty." Shivani smiled warmly and stood back, looking Cyrilla up and down.

"Am I...? I mean... greetings, Mistress Shivani." Cyrilla stammered.

"You're in the right place. Please come in. Please."

Shivani ushered her into the room, which was a small alcove overlooking a spacious harem. Cyrilla slowly scanned the room and took in the lushness of it. Silk curtains hung from hooks, and formed colourful, gauzy walls around alcoves similar to the one they were in. A circular pool of water was in the center of the room, with a cherubic fountain gently spraying thin streams of water from it's swollen, marble breasts. Piles of cushions littered the floors, and several divans were arranged around the pool. The room smelt heavily of floral incense that nearly overpowered Cyrilla's nose with pleasure.

"I understand you have some important business tonight." Shivani said with a wry smirk. "We'll get you ready..."

"I have to be quick. Bastigar..."

"Bastigar can wait. These things cannot be rushed, and he knows that. I promised you'd be ready, and you will be. Beauty takes time." Shivani sized her up. "You're not a professional, are you? You're new to this?"

"I've never..." Cyrilla blushed. "I'm scared."

"Never what?"

"I've never done... anything."

Shivani laughed, "You're a virgin, my dear? With a body like this? Where did that old fool find you?"

"I work... for him. In the Tower."

"And he's never had you? His cock must not work anymore. Look at you."

Cyrilla surprised herself with a laugh that she stifled quickly, as if Bastigar could hear them, way down in the tunnel.

"No matter, love, you're just a bit dirty. We'll get you cleaned up and the mere sight of you will make plenty of cocks work just fine tonight at the castle. You're gorgeous, I can tell already."

In all her years in the Bloodbrick Tower, Cyrilla had never been treated with such off-hand kindness. She smiled shyly at the compliment, even though she didn't feel beautiful. Inside, she still felt like the dirty slave boy she had always been until today.

Shivani took her hand and escorted her towards the pool of water.

"Step in, and rinse yourself off, love. There's soap on the ledge. I'll be right back." Shivani climbed slowly back up the low stairs and disappeared into an alcove. Cyrilla heard a door shut.

Alone, Cyrilla stood on the ledge of the pool. How did she get here? What should she do? Could she run? Where? She was naked and had no idea where any of these doors led, except the one that would take her back to Bastigar. She thought of his scheme and her role in it. She imagined facing some monstrous barbarian, knowing that she had to kill him. She didn't want to kill anyone, but what could she do? If she didn't, she might die herself. Or worse.

Cyrilla quickly pushed the thought from her mind. There was no use thinking about it. She would have to do what must be done. Somehow. Or die trying. She stepped into the pool. The water was warmer than she expected, and she quickly lowered her body into it, heaving a sigh of unexpected pleasure. She sat on the floor of the pool, the water rising up to her breasts, which gently bobbed in the warm ripples. Cyril's weekly baths had consisted of a bucket of cold water and a ladle. This, by comparison, was pure heaven.

Cyrilla cupped her hands and poured water over her shoulders, and ran her hands down her arms, cleaning off sweat and grime. Under the dirt, she noticed the hair of her arms was finer than before, dark but thin and soft. She hadn't had any time before to fully appreciate her transformation; she hadn't been alone with her body until this very moment. She looked down and marveled at her breasts, round and full, the pool water lapping at her nipples. She ran her fingers around them, feeling their youthful firmness, and giving herself small goosebumps of pleasure.

She was scared to look further down. A man's penis was supposed to be his pride, although Cyril had never felt he had much to be proud of. Still, it was a penis; it was always there, and now it was not. Cyrilla leaned her pelvis forward, so she could better see between her breasts, and peered down into the water. Through the rippling surface, she saw her soft, smooth belly and a small, dark mound of pubic hair between her legs. Nothing more. No cock dangling in the water, no balls floating. Cyrilla slowly reached a hand between her legs just as Shivani came into her vision, standing at the edge of the pool carrying a ceramic jar. Cyrilla gasped and blushed in shame.

"Oh, don't let me stop you, girl." Shivani chuckled. "What do you think we do here all day?"

"I wasn't going to... I don't even know how." Cyrilla lowered her eyes.

"It's normal not to know. I could teach you, but first... sit up on the ledge."

Cyrilla rose from the water and sat on the smooth marble. Shivani sat her ceramic jar on the ledge and removed the lid. She pulled out a small paddle coated in a thick paste.

"Place your hands on your head, dear."

"W-what is that?" Cyrilla asked as she lifted her arms, exposing her armpits.

"Oh, quicklime and what-not. It's for the hair." Shivani went to work, spreading a thin layer of the paste on Cyrilla's armpits. The paste was cool and made Cyrilla shiver.

Shivani stood and let her silks drop to the floor. She was naked underneath, her skin darker than Cyrilla's, her breasts soft and generous, a small belly underneath them decorated with a piercing at the naval. She sank into the pool in front of Cyrilla.

"Spread your legs, love, and put your feet up on the first step."

Cyrilla's heart began to beat faster. She felt so exposed already, and now this. But she did as she was told.

"It's going to feel great, trust me. Very fashionable right now. The quicklime just takes a few minutes." She spread paste over Cyrilla's calves, from knee to ankle. Then she leaned in and carefully coated her pubic mound, careful not to get any near Cyrilla's vulva.

"It will begin feeling warm soon. That's how you know it's working."

"Shivani?"

"Yes, dear?"

"I-I've never had sex before. With a man. Or anyone. I may not have to, tonight. I don't want to. But if I do... will it hurt? I've heard it hurts...for a woman."

Shivani nodded. "It's a common fear, but no, it doesn't always hurt. Most of the time, quite the opposite. When it's done right, it's like... like dancing with the gods. Like a choir of angels singing into your head."

Cyrilla wondered what that would feel like. She wouldn't describe Cyril's periodic wanks as any kind of choir. Certainly not one of angels. What had he been missing? Did many women feel this way? Did they feel more than a man could?

"Let's wash you off, now." Shivani helped her back into the water, and used the same paddle to begin removing the paste. With every stroke, a patch of smooth, hairless skin was revealed. First her armpits, then her legs, and finally her sex. Shivani was careful there, holding her legs apart in her lap, while drawing the paddle slowly over Cyrilla's mound. Cyrilla could feel the edge of the paddle sliding over her skin with gentle but firm pressure. The water felt warm on her bare skin, the whole area alive with sensation. It was as if she could feel the water gently kissing every pore of her skin. She could feel everything, including something that made her let out a short gasp: she felt something... down there, between her smooth legs. She held her breath as her heart pounded.

"It's alright, dear. More than alright. We'll need some of you for the scent."

Cyrilla looked at the older woman, confused.

"Just relax. I won't hurt you. In fact, this may make tonight a little bit easier."

Shivani arranged herself cross-legged on the floor of the pool, cradling Cyrilla's ass in her lap. She placed her soft hands on her inner thighs and gently massaged her smooth, chestnut skin under the water. Cyrilla sharply inhaled.

"You're a sweet girl, my dear. You deserve all of the pleasures life can offer. You may not get all of them, but I can give you this one."

Shivani pressed one hand down on Cyrilla's pelvis just under her belly button, and with a thumb, gently brushed her slit, which was already slick with excitement. Cyrilla shivered in pure delight, exhaling a stuttering breath as she arched her head backwards. She'd never felt anything like this! Her head emptied of all worries and concerns, focusing on the full-body arousal brought on by Shivani's masterful touch.

Massaging ever more firmly into the outer folds of Cyrilla's wet cunt, Shivani shifted one arm to more tightly hold Cyrilla's legs to her, then pressed her thumb inside. Cyrilla let out a cry of pure ecstasy.

"Good girl... very good." Shivani purred, as she twisted her hand around and positioned two fingers at the entrance of Cyrilla's eager sex. She slowly pushed them inside, every increment producing waves of pleasure in Cyrilla, who whimpered and whined in a beautiful agony.

Cyrilla looked down directly into Shivani's eyes and felt raw sexual energy in her gaze. This woman was older but still radiated a dominant, powerful sensuality and Cyrilla would have done anything she demanded of her in that moment. Cyrilla reached down and Shivani moved her free hand to lock fingers with her. Shivani's other hand was more insistent now, driving two fingers into her cunt and back out again, harder and harder. Cyrilla nearly blacked out from the pleasure of it, feeling more alive than she had ever had in her whole miserable life. Her eyes rolled back and she let out a ragged moan.

"By the gods... you were made for fucking." Shivani whispered, with a note of awe in her voice.

"Please! Shivani! Harder... I need more! Don't stop!" Cyrilla gasped out between breaths.

Shivani responded by working her fingers harder into Cyrilla, positioning her thumb so it ran across her clit with every thrust. Faster and harder. Cyrilla moaned and her entire body tensed, her slender, spread legs locking up at the knee, toes curled. Faster. Harder.

Shivani was breathing heavily now, and husked out, "Cum for me, girl! Cum for me!" She pushed into Cyrilla as deep as her fingers would go, finding more and more warmth and wetness.

Cyrilla whined from clenched teeth, "Yes! Yesyesyes, don't stop! Don't stop! Ahhhhhhhh!" and her entire body exploded, her vision going white and pure heat washing over her in waves, pouring out from her cunt and wracking her body in wild spasms. She could feel her cunt squeezing on Shivani's fingers, gripping and releasing, gripping and releasing in rhythmic pulses.

Shivani held her hand tightly, leaning into her thighs to hold her down, and pressing her thumb to Cyrilla's clit, not daring to stroke it again, marveling at the young woman's powerful orgasm. Her own sex was alive with passion and she wanted, suddenly and desperately, to steal this young girl away and fuck her forever. She had made a promise though, and still had work to do. She sighed deeply.

When Cyrilla's shuddering slowed, Shivani gently eased her ass back to the pool's floor, and released her hand. She slid her fingers from Cyrilla's cunt, and lifted them out of the water.

"This will do nicely," she said as she stepped out of the water, her naked body dripping, rivulets running off her curves. She walked quickly to a divan where a vial sat, along with some folded scraps of silk. She took the silk and carefully wiped her sex-slick fingers, soaking the silk with Cyrilla's feminine wetness.

Cyrilla watched her, her vision finally clearing. "What's it for?"

"A perfume. The perfect perfume. So seductive, no man can resist it." Shivani said idly as she rolled the damp silk up and slid it into the vial, stoppered it, and shook it. "A bit of the woman herself goes in... so the man knows. And wants."

Cyrilla breathed in as the reality of the night ahead came back to her.

"Wash yourself, my dear. I will bring you a towel, and then we'll get you dressed."

Cyrilla did as she was told. She washed, using the soap, which smelled of roses and something exotic she couldn't place. She rinsed off the sweat and sex of their encounter. She ran her hands over her smooth, hairless body, still in awe that this was no dream. She had experienced a moment of joy that had surpassed any before it. She hadn't realized such joy was possible, or that she was worthy of it. But now, she wished to hold onto it forever and if she was very lucky, to experience it again.

Would she ever get to have this again? Or would the unthinkable happen? Would she murder, and then run back to cruel Bastigar, to be turned back into... Cyril? The slave boy? Who lived in a dungeon cleaning up shit? Cyrilla's heart ached at the thought.

Shivani handed her a towel as she rose from the pool. Over her other arm was draped a collection of rippling indigo silk, similar to Shivani's own. Cyrilla took the towel and dried herself, daubing the soft fabric against her smooth skin. She felt truly clean, inside and out. She felt new.

Shivani arranged the deep blue silk in her hands. It was a loose tunic of sorts, with long sleeves, and long, flowing ends. Shivani helped Cyrilla slide her arms into the sleeves, and wrapped it around her. She plucked up a small, decorated girdle from the divan and wrapped it around Cyrilla's waist, tightening the leather straps. The girdle produced from the silk an ample bosom, with deep cleavage. Cyrilla felt the silk wrapped around her naked skin, teasing her skin. The material was thin and so fine, that her nipples protruded through the silk. The ends of the silk fell to the floor, draping over her firm, round ass.

"If we had more time, we'd do more, dear. We'll do your eyes and lips, then off you go." Shivani sighed.

She sat Cyrilla on the divan, and carefully applied kohl around the edges of her eyes, red paint to her lips. She took hold of Cyrilla's still-damp, straight black hair and ran a brush through it even though it wasn't tangled and was practically shining in the light.

She pressed the vial of perfume into Cyrilla's hand. "A drop behind each ear, one in the cleavage, and one between your legs, dear. Anymore than that, and you might get more attention that you're looking for."

Shivani stood and admired her work, before producing a silver scarab necklace, that she locked around Cyrilla's throat.

"This is from Bastigar," she said quietly, before pressing a switch on the back of the scarab. Cyrilla heard a small click and watched as Shivani pulled half the scarab down, revealing a wide, sharp edge. A hidden razor, sharp enough to slit a throat.

Shivani slid it back into the necklace and clicked it closed. She looked into Cyrilla's eyes and put her hands on her shoulders.

"I'm not going to ask what it's for. I will only ask that you be careful. You're a sweet girl, and you have strength in you. We women, we're stronger than men give us credit for. Aren't we, dear?"

Cyrilla held the scarab in her hand and imagined how the night would go. She'd go to the castle. The feast. She'd lure Krond, this cruel, savage barbarian, back to his room. Flatter him. Get him vulnerable. On his back, maybe. Then get close and... cut him. His throat. There'd be blood. A lot of it. Nothing she hadn't seen before, in the pits of Bloodbrick Tower. It could be done.