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."
