The First and Most Dangerous Gamble

Image by S. Hermann & F. Richter from Pixabay

“Now that I’ve shared with you a little something from my life,” Adrianna murmured, “I’d like it if you let me see your drawings. I’m very flattered you took such an interest.”

The Shepherd looked down, startled by the strange shapes he saw.

Adrianna was there, but not recognizable in the flurry of shapes in motion on the paper.

“Ok,” he said. “But I’m not sure you’ll like it. I can probably have a better one for you later after having some time to focus.”

“I’ll be the judge of that,” Adrianna replied.

Glancing to his cache of drawings, she grinned wickedly.

“By the way, I would like to see all your drawings, not just the one of me.”

The Shepherd said nothing, but scowled.

The Courtesan threw her head back and laughed when she saw his expression.

Again, the slightly masculine mannerism disconcerted the Shepherd. The familiarity of it unnerved him, as much as how unexpected it was every time she did it.

“In case you’ve forgotten, my dear Shepherd, we made an agreement to trade stories. Perhaps your drawings would be a good start to open you up.”

“You do this every night?” the Shepherd asked in an attempt to veer the conversation.

Adrianna nodded, and finished off her water.

Without warning, she took his pad with his latest sketch and spent a few moments peering at it

“This is really quite good,” she declared. “Are you sure you wish to keep drawing only as a hobby?”

The Shepherd remembered how much the Butler boasted of his mistress as a benevolent and influential patroness of the arts, and was alarmed.

“Yes, I’m sure.”

Adrianna laughed again.

“Sweet, shy Shepherd. As you wish. Please let me know if you change your mind.”

A maid appeared seemingly out of nowhere, a long fur coat draped over her arm.

The Shepherd did not hear the girl enter.

“Ah yes,” Adrianna said. “It is the cocktail hour. I don’t feel a pressing need to change for supper. Do you?”

Without waiting for an answer, the young maid stepped forward to help her mistress into her coat.

Then the Courtesan looked at the Shepherd expectantly, slowly raising her brows when he didn’t move.

The Shepherd flushed when he realized she expected him to offer his arm.

 Adrianna smiled and linked her arm through his once he did.

“Thank you,” she murmured. “I think dinner promises to be quite lovely. And of course, I will entertain you with another of my stories.”

“I look forward to it,” the Shepherd said, suddenly remembering the details of the intrigue from the night before and eager to learn more.

*****

You are very fortunate, dear Shepherd.

I’ve shared this story when occasion called for it over the years, which gave me the perspective and ability to articulate all that I witnessed and felt.

At the time though, I couldn’t because I lacked the insight to understand the madness that happened. So you get to hear my perspective seasoned with the wisdom of experience.

My world blew apart and wide open during those next few months. I gained much wisdom that would serve me well.

But the most unexpected and shocking lesson was the insidious power of hatred, and the ties created from it. The blind loathing and envy I cultivated for the Patron’s Daughter had bound my soul with hers, and therefore my destiny.

I had no idea that’s what I had been doing to myself. If I had known, perhaps I would have found another release for those violent emotions.

Then again, perhaps I wouldn’t have been able to.

The Sorcerer of the Caverns must have understood this because he certainly used that to his advantage.

He was the must cunning monster I have ever known.

I had no idea how to get him what he wanted.

If you know anything about the Sorcerer, you must know he would never have wanted to seduce an ugly peasant girl named Addie.

Of course, it was the Patron’s Daughter he wanted.

Beautiful and vicious, she presented an unusual challenge for the Sorcerer.

He had always ensnared his conquests through desires that were out of reach.

The Patron’s Daughter had been indulged and pampered all of her life. Never wanting for anything, she had no yearning.

Since the Sorcerer had no way to tempt her, she would never give up her heart to satisfy a forbidden longing.

So I would have to give up mine. But only if I was able to deliver the Patron’s Daughter to the Sorcerer.

You look confused, darling Shepherd. I get ahead of myself.

Our plan was both complicated and dangerous.

 I was to lure the Patron’s Daughter to the Sorcerer, so he could seduce her. After he claimed her maidenhead, he would transform me into the likeness of the Patron’s Daughter.

Except for my eyes, as I said yesterday.

But my heart would be the payment instead.

Although I was never one for sentiment, I resisted.

I didn’t understand why taking my heart was necessary since the Patron’s Daughter was the one marked by the Sorcerer, and I was risking death if anything went awry.

It was an argument I lost.

His premise was that I had the most to gain. Also, since I had been ruminating on death as a choice when we met, I had nothing to lose.

Much later, I learned that although the Sorcerer obviously savored the power that comes with a successful conquest, it was not seduction that kept him alive as centuries passed.

Feeding on the hearts of girls and young women - all of them virginal until he seduced them - was how the Sorcerer gained immortality.

Since the Patron’s Daughter could only be lured to the Sorcerer through deceit rather than her own choice, it was impossible for him to claim her heart even after he took her.

Since the Sorcerer could never have the heart of the Patron’s Daughter, he had to take mine in her place.

And I was definitely a virgin.

Oh the despair that would have followed if we had been caught!

I would have been publicly hanged, and my parents would have known nothing but disgrace for the rest of their miserable lives!

Don’t think I didn’t consider that as I made my deal with the Devil.

Addie Puts Up a Fight

Image by klimkin from Pixabay 

I cursed myself for not paying attention, and for not going into the café.

“That’s offensive,” the con man crooned. “And even rather foolish. I’ve been watching you, and you’re always alone.”

The pleasantry in his voice turned my stomach.

I forced myself to breathe slowly to quell the rise of panic. When I spoke again, I was relieved I sounded calm.

“I’m new here.”

“I know you are. Don’t you want a friend?”

“I’m selective.”

“It is rather intriguing,” the con man said with a slithering quality to his tone.

“How could a woman child like you come here all alone? You have no family and no connections. You have only two changes of clothes which you’ve worn out, yet somehow you can afford an apartment from one of the greediest landladies in the Capital City.”

His smell was the odor of rage.

The acrid scent wafted off the con man in waves.

Thus the easygoing manner of conversation made me desperate to get away from him.

“You have no visitors,” he wheedled. “Which means you’re not a fancy whore, like Carla and Filly. So where does your money come from, neighbor?”

My street was a half block away, and my building was two blocks down.

Even if I could outrun him, the con man lived there too.

I would have to get up the stairs, in my apartment, and lock the door before he could catch up with me.

So there was no refuge there.

I had no doubt the con man had cruel intentions towards me.

The memory came to mind of the Brute gripping the hair of the Patron’s Daughter in his fist as he pummeled his manmeat into her from behind. Somehow I knew I would suffer a similar humiliation if the con man had his way.

I turned and ran as fast as I could for the Avenue of the Theaters. Getting back to a crowd was my only chance.

I hadn’t gone twenty paces before the weasel-faced con man caught up with me and grabbed my elbow. I tried to shake him off, but his bony hand could have been a vise.

“Let go of me!” I snarled, relieved at the ferocity in my voice.

I was terrified, but at least my fear didn’t show.

“Well, aren’t you a fierce little snit,” he said.

“Settle down, neighbor. Let’s go home and have the kind of drink that will relax us both where we can have a conversation, and maybe come to understand each other better.”

The con man gripped my left arm and kept me close to him, turning me back towards the street of our building.

I had never been so frightened in my life.

But as that weasel with the river rat teeth pulled me towards certain doom, something else came up in me as well.

Everything I had endured to get to the Capital City surged inside with a force beyond memories and thought. The threat of losing all I had and much worse to this contemptible grifter brought up a wrath in me I’d never known before.

There was no way in hell I could have allowed that to happen.

“I said let go of me!”

I threw my right fist at him with all my might.

The con man didn’t see it coming and my strike landed on his jaw.

But to my horror, my body was now a traitor to my will.

I had acted as a hardscrabble peasant with a sturdy frame layered with muscle, and burly hands thickened from arduous work. But I no longer had such a form and therefore, I had no power behind my punch.

All I did was enrage him.

“You vicious wench!”

He gripped me by the throat and squeezed.

I clawed his arm and kicked at his legs. I tried to scream, but he held his hand over my mouth to silence me.

I bit down on the meat of his palm with my healthy, sharp teeth.

The con man howled and hit me so hard on the side of my face, I blacked out for an instant.

Suddenly, I was freed from his clutches.

I didn’t see how it happened.

But I heard a loud thump. Then the con man lurched and his fingers released my throat.

The sudden intake of air was so intense I became dizzy and lost my balance.

Rather than fall to the ground, a pair of strong hands caught me.

I knew this couldn’t be the con man from the gentle strength holding me in the middle of my back until I was steady.

The Metamorphosis of Stolen Beauty

Image by Gerd Altmann from Pixabay 

“It’s time for my payment.”

The Sorcerer pulled a strange pendant from his robes.

The charm was much like the legendary crystal stargaze of Ella Bandita, but the Sorcerer’s was larger.

Reflexively, I averted my eyes.

Even though I’d bidden farewell to my heart many times over the last couple of days, I was unwilling to give it up.

“Addie.”

It was a command.

I turned back to the Sorcerer and held his gaze, while a whirlwind of cold blue and white lights surrounded me.

I shivered, suddenly chilled to the bone.

Frightened, I squeezed my eyes shut and my heart pounded in my breast and reverberated throughout my being. My heartbeat was vigorous, pulsing to the rhythm of the hard life of a strong woman.

But this was also the source of love, faith, and devotion, this heart that had yearned for the Noble Son.

“It’ll be worth it,” the Sorcerer said. “I promise.”

That promise meant nothing to me, nor did it persuade me to surrender. The burn of tears forced through closed lids and streamed rivulets down my cheeks.

“It’s too late, Addie. If you change your mind now, you’re doomed.”

There was genuine sorrow in the Sorcerer’s voice. That surprised me and I never forgot it.

I knew he was right, of course. But that wasn’t the reason that compelled me towards my new destiny.

Somehow the Sorcerer’s sadness allowed me to let go and accept the choice I had already made.

I opened my eyes and faced the Sorcerer of the Caverns. I nodded and succumbed to the cyclone of lights.

“Breathe in as much as you can,” the Sorcerer intoned. “Then force all the air out of you.”

The Sorcerer sounded far away as the cold storm of blue and white swirled around me.

I didn’t have to force any breath out.

Air was sucked out of me, pulled by an unseen force, as the whirlwind spun faster and faster and made me weightless.

All the heavens could have lived inside me once my heart was gone.

I didn’t know the moment it was taken. I only felt the eternal space inside me once it was over.

Then ground was solid under me again and I put my fingers to my neck.

There was no pulse.

My heart was in the hand of the Sorcerer, thick and robust, and beating mightily as he dropped it discreetly in a black, velvet bag.

He already had my magic drink ready.

The crystal cauldron was gone and a plain silver goblet was in its place, filled to the brim with that sweet, smoky potion.

“If you can, drink this without stopping. Keep it down. Every drop of it.”

The potion may have been sweet to the nose, but it was foul on the tongue. The smell of smoky musk tasted like acrid bitterness.

As soon as the drink was in my mouth, I had to fight the gag reflex. Every swallow down my throat was torture.

I perceived my metamorphosis immediately.

The sensation was unreal, as if this were happening to me but not.

I shrunk in some areas of my body and burgeoned in others.

I could feel the hair growing from my head, the sprouting of breasts, the shifting of my features, the chiseling around my hips, and the lengthening of my limbs.

All this happened while the rancid potion I swallowed bit by bit urged me to retch. I needed all my strength of will to resist. I’ve never tasted anything so horrible before or since.

Then an inner quaking consumed me and my flesh tingled all over.

It was a climax of sorts, but not like those after a pleasure peak. This was neither pleasurable nor painful. The closest I can describe the experience was that I disappeared and came into being at the same moment.

Then my transformation was over.

The first thing I saw was the lust in the Sorcerer’s gaze.

That unnerved me for all kinds of reasons, one being that no man had ever looked at me like that. Another was that it made my flesh crawl that the first man who did was the Sorcerer of the Caverns.

The Sorcerer smiled and snapped his fingers.

A long, oval mirror appeared before me. I gasped when I saw my reflection.

“You’re even more beautiful than she was,” the Sorcerer declared.

“Why did you make me look like her?” I cried.

“Because this is what you wanted, Addie.”

“No, I didn’t!”

“You wanted to be beautiful.”

“But I didn’t want to look like her! I hate her!”

“Yes, you did. Didn’t you covet the beauty of the Patron’s Daughter all your life? What we envy in others is what we want for ourselves.”

I couldn’t speak for a moment.

I touched the new skin of my forearms, I had never known such soft flesh before, and now it was all mine.

I looked in the mirror again and focused on my eyes. Even the one original feature I had kept seemed so foreign to me.

The black brows and long lashes set off the variegated amber hues of my eyes, which sparkled like jewels even in the dim light of the cabin.

I had become the most beautiful creature I’d ever seen. And it was so strange.

“I believe you have a change of clothes near the door,” the Sorcerer hinted. “You need to hurry.”

I had forgotten the satchel the Patron’s Daughter had brought.

Of course, clothes were perfect for my flight to the Capital City, and the Sorcerer probably influenced her choice. I would have appeared ridiculous in the drab peasant garb I had on.

I had just donned the gown, cloak, and boots when I heard her voice behind me. She sounded groggy, but the Patron’s Daughter had come awake.

“I can’t believe you let me sleep, Addie! Where are my clothes? Isn’t it time to go?”

I should have kept my back to her.

But the sound of the Patron’s Daughter caught me off guard, and I turned around before I could stop myself.

The Most Exquisite Whore in the World

Image by Alexandr Ivanov from Pixabay

The Brute picked up the corset and looked over to me.

“Clean her up and dress her.”

“No!” the Patron’s Daughter shrieked. “I’m not wearing that!”

The Brute stepped forward and gripped her grimy face in one of his thick hands.

“The only choice you have is to come here or stay away. But once you walk through that door, you don’t make decisions. If I tell you to do something, you do it.”

“No!”

The Brute pushed her away.

“Then get out.”

My heart sank, and even the Patron’s Daughter was confused.

“I don’t understand!”

“It’s simple. I want you and Addie to leave, and I don’t want you back until you obey me.”

The Patron’s Daughter shook her head, but the Brute shrugged and turned his back.

I felt a pain in my chest and realized it was my heart grieving as the ache came back to my loins. The sensation was bizarre because it was how I felt every time I saw the Noble Son, knowing he was out of reach.

It was the soul of yearning, and it was bizarre that the Patron’s Daughter would pine for the repugnant beast of a man standing before her.

“I give you one minute before I physically throw you out.”

Having no wish to be bodily removed, I stepped forward, gripped the Patron’s Daughter by the arm, and pulled her with me out the door.

She didn’t resist, dazed as she was, and I could feel her yearning sear through me.

Before we came out of the woods, I guided her to the river.

“You need to wash these stains out of your gown first,” I whispered. “It’s warm enough you won’t catch a chill on your way home.”

At the river, I did the best I could to get the stains of man juice and vomit from her dress, soaking those stains as best I could until I couldn’t smell the stench any longer.

The chill of the water, brought the Patron’s Daughter back to her senses. As we came out of the woods, she handed over two of the gold coins she brought.

I accepted without argument, even though what I saw was worth the whole lot. Yet she had had a rough night, and I felt something close to pity for her.

“I’ll be here same time next week,” I said as we came out of the woods. “I’ll wait for half an hour. If you don’t come, I understand.”

After she left, I went back to the barren cabin where the Sorcerer waited.

I was sick with worry that she wouldn’t be there the following week.

“Will you relax?” the Sorcerer chided. “Of course, she’ll be back.”

“You can’t possibly know that for certain.”

“She showed up tonight, didn’t she?”

“She had an orgasm last week. This week didn’t go so well.”

The Sorcerer smiled, his yellowed teeth gleaming.

“Which means she’ll be craving another. Trust me, she’s already surrendered her pride. Would you prefer to waste time lamenting something you need not worry about, or would you rather learn the value of what’s in your pocket, and how to navigate the Capital City once you get there?”

He made a good point.

We changed subjects easily, and I absorbed all he had to teach me.

Of course, the Sorcerer was right.

The Patron’s Daughter was there before I was the following week.

The Brute nodded slowly when we came in, raising his brows slightly as he glanced at me and handed me the strange corset.

The Patron’s Daughter’s fingers trembled as she unlaced the front of her oversized gown and let it drop to the ground, pulling her camisole and bloomers off.

She was even more beautiful naked.

The Patron’s Daughter looked like a goddess.

Her breasts were large and full, standing high on her chest. Her nipples protruded carnality. Her torso tapered to a ridiculously small waist before billowing out into her rounded hips.

She went limp when I encircled my arms around her waist to wrap her in the corset. Her waist was already so small, I pulled the laces tight mating the edges. Rather than squeezing her lungs tight, the corset fit her perfectly.

 Even though he didn’t suggest it, I undid the elaborate roll at the nape of her neck and let her raven hair stream over her shoulders and down to her waist.

Just like that, the Patron’s Daughter metamorphosed into the most exquisite whore in the world.

The corset was obscene, pushing her full breasts as high as her collarbones, her erect nipples jutting towards the sky, the hairy mound of her pubis damp with anticipation.

With her flushed cheeks and glistening eyes, her red mouth parted, the Patron’s Daughter could not wait for what would happen next.

Any doubt that she wanted to be there was done away when I felt the rush in my loins as they opened.

It Feels Good to Hurt

Image by zseeee from Pixabay

The Patron’s Daughter was the only woman I ever saw who actually paid her way to whoredom.

As the weeks passed, I made a nice little fortune for my silence, enough that I could have lived lavishly for several years, and possibly for the rest of my life if I had chosen to live in modest comfort.

As you can see, I did not.

Oddly enough, I found her degradation excruciating to witness.

After years of hatred and spite, one would think I would have enjoyed the spectacle. But the pain and humiliation was hard to watch. I never understood why she craved it so much.

It was too easy for the Brute, really.

The Patron’s Daughter succumbed to him so readily I was kind of disappointed in her. I expected more resistance. Perhaps excessive indulgence all her life left her restless and hungry in a way I never imagined possible for her.

All I know is that once she got a taste of the twisted mating dance between a sadist and a masochist, she hardly put up a fight.

The following week, the Sorcerer was proven right yet again.

When I came to our meeting place the following week, I half expected her absence.

But the Patron’s Daughter had arrived before me. Pacing back and forth, she was clearly impatient as she waited for me. She was especially nasty when I appeared.

“Am I supposed to thank you now?” she snarled. “Ugly Addie makes a most decorative escort.”

“If my presence is this odious to you, I’d rather get some sleep.”

I turned and made my way out of the woods, but the Patron’s Daughter chased after me.

“Wait! You can’t leave!”

“Obviously, I can.”

“I can’t get there without you! I tried to find the cabin and nearly got lost.”

“So what if you did? I don’t care.”

“Liar! You care about the four gold coins I brought to keep your filthy mouth shut. I think you care about those a lot.”

She had me there.

I stopped.

“You don’t get to say anything nasty to me ever again,” I said.

The words were out of my mouth before I knew what I was saying. But that was the first genuine taste of self-respect I ever had in my life. It made me giddy and I couldn’t stop.

“Last week, I saw you rubbing up against the ugliest man I ever saw until you got yourself all a-trembling. Lord knows what I’ll see tonight. Your insults are ridiculous, but if you continue, I will not take you to the Brute.”

The Patron’s Daughter didn’t say anything. I could barely see her with her dark cloak on, but I could hear her breathing. It was the labored heaving of somebody desperate.

“Are we agreed?” I persisted.

“Yes. We are agreed.”

I turned back with her, finding my way through the trees with no trouble.

We came to the cabin in minutes.

The Patron’s Daughter muttered that she didn’t understand why she couldn’t find it earlier, so certain she had taken this path.

The Brute didn’t bother with any niceties. He threw a strange garment at us as soon as we walked in.

“Put this on,” he commanded, and turned to me. “You dress her.”

“I’m no lady’s maid!”

The Brute glared at me.

“You are tonight, and you are whenever I tell you to dress her.”

I was livid, but I didn’t argue.

Instead, the Patron’s Daughter did.

“Is this a corset?”

She held it up.

It was, but the strange garment was only fitted around the waist. It was made out of a dull brown leather rather than satin, and looked dreadfully uncomfortable the way it cinched narrowly at the waist. There were bones sewn all around it, with laces up the back.

 It clearly would show her breasts and her pubis. The corset was ugly and crude, and clearly meant for something other than grooming.

The Patron’s Daughter’s face went white and her small blue eyes widened. She shook her head.

“How dare you! I’m not wearing that whorish thing!”

The Brute smiled and raised his brows.

“Really? Then why do you think you’re really here?”

“To marry the Noble Son!”

I almost burst out laughing, but I bit my tongue in time.

What she said was preposterous after the spanking from the week before.

The Brute practiced no restraint. His laugh sounded like a series of barks from an angry dog.

“The most dangerous lies are those we tell ourselves,” he chortled. “We all know why you’re here.”

For his massive form, the Brute was surprisingly swift as he reached out and pulled the Patron’s Daughter close with one arm.

In less than a moment, he brought his free hand down hard against her rump.

She crumpled against him as the strike landed, her breathing coming in short gasps. Even though the strike couldn’t hurt as much over layers of clothes, I felt my belly tighten.

“This is what you want, isn’t it?”

She moaned softly while his hand rubbed circles over her bottom cheeks.

Then his arm rose above his head and the next beating came down even harder.

The Patron’s Daughter collapsed and a small cry escaped her lips.

“It feels good to hurt, doesn’t it?”

“Yes,” the Patron’s Daughter murmured. “Yes.”