Ciarra the Cold - Cover

Ciarra the Cold

Copyright© 2019 by Nyx Wylder

Chapter 9: The Tailor

Fantasy Sex Story: Chapter 9: The Tailor - The gods created a game-like world for their high-stakes contest, and Ciarra is the most powerful of their pawns, she ignores little things like racism, bigotry, and societal norms. One little foxkin who has lived a hard and brutal life becomes Ciarra's pet. For the first time in years, she has hope, and a chance to follow her dreams. Assuming Ciarra, an amoral sexual sadist, doesn't kill her first.

Caution: This Fantasy Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Fa/Fa   Coercion   Magic   NonConsensual   Lesbian   Fiction   GameLit   High Fantasy   Furry   Were animal   DomSub   FemaleDom   Humiliation   Harem   Polygamy/Polyamory   Exhibitionism   First   Masturbation   Oral Sex   Petting   Slow   Violence  

Surrounded by a solid block wall, Gravestead was reasonably well protected. I reminded myself to avoid attracting the wrong kind of attention, at least until my pets and I could safely fight other champions in a dungeon. I approached the two guardsmen stationed at the city gate.

Vixen’s over-sized clothing amused them, and they didn’t try to hide it. Grinning, they asked a few questions about where we came from and what we planed to do in the city. My pet had expected their questions, and had volunteered to handle it. Already bored by just the thought of dealing with petty bureaucrats and officials, I had agreed.

Upon entering the city, my eyes immediately began to water, as my nose was instantly assaulted by the reek of unwashed flesh, week-old night soil, and rotting trash. I hated Gravestead immediately.

“I forgot how horrible human cities smell,” said Vixen, wrinkling her nose. “Eventually, you become somewhat accustomed to it.”

An unpleasant thought. Just one night, then I should be able to leave. I just need some equipment and to join the adventurers guild. Then we can leave.

“Guide me to a tailor,” I said.

“How expensive of a tailor? One that sells cheap clothing such as this,” she gestures at her coarse linen outfit, “or someone that supplies merchants and minor nobility? I only know of one tailor that serves the higher nobility, but they cost a fortune anyway.”

Silly question. What kind of clothing does she think I would wear? I opened her coin purse, and dropped a few dozen gold coins, from my hoard, into it. “Most of the time, I don’t care to participate in trade, and I dislike haggling. Let me know when it runs low.”

Her eyes bulged when she looked in, although I could barely scent her shock over the miasma polluting the city air.

“Apparently money isn’t a concern,” Vixen said, “Ciarra, do you know how much this is worth?”

“Not really,” I admitted.

“Cheap beer and a meal costs one copper, a night in a good inn costs seven. Ten copper make one silver mark, ten marks make one gold. But, these aren’t small gold coins. They are nobles gold, each one is worth ten normal gold. It’s enough to live like kings for years! It’s not going to...” Then she remembered who she was talking to, and fell silent.

“I’m far more than a king,” I said, then repeated myself. Just to be clear, “Let me know when it runs low.” Why bother keeping track for myself, when I have a pet that can handle it for me. Everything she has is mine anyway, including everything in her purse and the clothes on her back.

Wealth is just another form of power, and I tended to use it with the bluntness of an avalanche. In a very literal sense, haggling isn’t worth my time. Finding more gold is trivial. Sufficient quantities of gold ore slightly twists the worlds magic field, not by much, but its enough for me to detect.

She nodded in agreement, still looking a little wide eyed. People are strange. She’s more shocked than when I shifted into a dragon. I guess it makes sense, she spent years begging, and as the lowest ranking bandit, she would have received the smallest share. As someone that’s spent her life scrambling for coppers, she’s in for quite a surprise.

I followed my pet as she led us through the streets. Exiting onto a busy intersection, she paused and turned back to me. “Three of the four major sections of the city meet here. Behind us is the foreigners quarter.” she points north. “That’s the merchants quarter, the shop I’m looking for is on the far side of it,” then she gestures to the east, “Officially, that’s the commoners quarter, but everyone calls it the slums.”

Turning north, she froze for a second, eyes locked on a large three story building. Hate rolled off her, the scent so sharp and pungent that it cut through the more general stink of the city. Without a word she continued walking. Such strong hate. How curious. Everything I did, and she never felt hate towards me, just rage. I wonder what that was about.

“Who’s in that building?” I asked, and pointed at it.

“The thieves guild.” She looked away, from me, and from the building.

“They gave you the scar,” I said, remembering her story.

Her voice was clipped and harsh when she finally replied. “I was thirteen, still covered with bruises from the adventurers guild throwing me out, and hadn’t eaten in a week. I politely asked to join. At dinner their guild leader found out how horrible my agility was. His second held me down, while he sliced open my face. Then they threw me out.

“Apparently, ‘I embarrassed him.’ I should have died, but the beggars guild found me.

“For the next year, that bastard added a new requirement for joining the guild. First they had to track me down, and drag me back. After dinner, the potential recruit would present me to him. The bastard would tell everyone about how I tried to join with an agility of one, they would all laugh. Then he would dip a stiletto in greater synoeca venom, and stab me with it. A few hours later, after my screaming died down, they would throw me out.

“Several times a month someone would drag me back. They always found me, no matter what I did”

After some thought, I said, “Would you make another oath, if I promised to kill him and destroy his guild once I’m finished here?”

Suddenly she was in my arms, face inches from mine. I had caught her instinctively when she leapt up. “YES! What oath? I’ll swear almost anything.” Her tail wagged violently. Her tail has hardly moved since I met her. So, that’s a big yes. To bad she doesn’t have anything left to give.

Chuckling, I said, “I don’t know yet, but I’ll think about it.”

She nodded happily, jumped down, and went back to leading the way. Her tail twitched excitedly. The reek of the city streets lessened as we moved deeper into the merchants quarter. An idea struck me.

“Vixen,” I crooned, “I have an oath for you.”

Jumping back up into my arms, she asked, “Yes, Ciarra?”

“I give my oath that I will make a reasonable effort to destroy the thieves guild in this city, if you swear not to climax without my permission.” I could do something similar with [Flesh Shaping], but not without touching her and concentrating. Besides, this costs almost nothing. Just an hour or two of my time.

She looked up from my arms and said, “That’s all?” then she said, “I swear not to climax, unless I have Ciarra’s permission.” Our oaths settled into place, bound by my interpretation as always.

Just a few streets later, we reached the tailor. As we walked up to the door, a man who reeked with arrogance exited. He sniffed disdainfully, and said, “You would be better served by another tailor, one that caters to lizardkin commoners.” To my surprise, Vixen snarled and lunged for his throat, dagger in hand, tail bristling. He let out a high pitched shriek, stumbled back, and fell against the wall.

Laughing, I caught her, mid leap, by the scruff of her neck, and pulled her into my arms.

“My lovely little pet,” I said, scratching between her ears, “If you kill him, people will panic and run, guards will be called. Then you’ll need to kill them, and even more would follow. It could be hours before they gave up. At the end of it all, my time would have been wasted, and I still wouldn’t have new clothes.

“Besides, my pride isn’t so easily wounded. In the long run, ignoring arrogant fools is much more entertaining than killing them.”

“Sorry, Ciarra. I’ll do better next time,” she said, ears drooping, tail tucked between her legs.

“Killing is easy, but it can lead to wasted time. Better to ignore them.” Like Kinathor. It should have been a simple trade with the dwarves. Sensing gold near a dormant volcano, I came to the dwarves to trade the location for a share. Building up my hoard through these oaths was far more efficient than stealing. Until I met their arrogant little princeling. Annoyed, I killed him, then I had to kill his guards, then all of the royal guards. Arrogant fools. I had to destroy their palace and half the city before they listened. What should have taken less than an hour, wasted almost a week.

A rainbow of folded cloth covered the back wall, and a few dozen different outfits hung from pegs and racks. Not what I’m looking for at all. The fabric was beautiful, but the clothing seemed designed to stifle movement, and to cover as much of the body as possible.

“My name is Mabel, How may I serve you?” asked the pretty young woman who waited in the room.

“None of these are acceptable. What other options do you have?” I asked.

“Um, we don’t sell anything like that,” she said timidly, gesturing at my clothing. “Most of our clients are of the aristocracy. I can recommend another tailor if you would prefer.”

“My choices were wearing this, or going without,” I said. I examined a dress, “Excellent fabric, and I love the lack of seams. Must be magic based construction. Unfortunately, I need something easy to move in. Something that shows off the body instead of concealing it.

“Oh, Yes. Let me introduce you to Madame Alysia.”

She opened the back door, and we entered room where several women worked on dresses. Enchanted looms moved by themselves, and they altered the dresses by slicing open and reweaving the fabric. Mabel called an elegantly dressed older woman over.

“Madame Alysia, this woman would like a dress that displays the body and doesn’t restrict movement.”

Alysia showed me several outfits, but I didn’t like any of them, all were far more conservative than I wanted. Finally, I stopped walking, and pulled Mabel between us.

“How much for your dress?” I asked her.

Confused, she said, “Many alterations would be needed before it fit you, and it’s an older design. After you paid for the altercations, it would probably be cheaper to purchase a new one.”

I sighed, and turned to Alysia. “What’s the most expensive dress you have?”

She said, “Twenty gold, but it’s a special order for the queen.”

“Mabel, I don’t want to wear it. Just stand there, and I’ll make alterations to show Alysia what I want. Do that, and I’ll give you twenty gold. Deal?”

The room fell silent, except for the quietly weaving looms.

She gulped. “Yes, but...” I interrupted her by pressing a finger to her lips.

“Speak again, before I’m finished, and the deal is off,” I said. She shut up.

Extending a talon, I quickly sliced open the front of her dress, turning it into a nice v-neck that exposed her cleavage. Cutting open the back, I left everything exposed from her shoulder blades to lower back. Then I sliced the skirt off mid calf, and slit the side all the way up to her hip.

Nodding with satisfaction, I turned away from my blushing mannequin.

“One for each of us,” I gestured to Vixen and myself, “in the next two hours, I’ll pay twenty gold apiece. Can you do it?”

Alysia looked shocked, but she said, “Yes, assuming we have enough of whichever fabric you select.”

“Assuming I’m happy with them, I’ll purchase as many different outfits as you can make in the next ... Vixen, my primary reason for coming here shouldn’t take longer than two days. How do you feel about waiting another three before I fulfill my oath to you?”

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