Part 1B

Zoraster paused in his writing when he sensed Celes' arrival. He looked up at the old woman with a mocking smile, "Ah, Celes, are you enjoying your current task?"

Celes' lip twitched, "I'm doin' what ye're tellin' me to. The lil' thief'll be kept clean an' ready fer whatever yer punishin' 'er with that day."

"Danica is quite beautiful, is she not? You have quite a good view in your work, I'm sure."

Celes' eyes hardened, "I'm not for carin' about that. I'm doin' as ye ask."

Zoraster laughed, "I'm sure you took no notice of her splendid body. I had no idea my net would pull in such a fine prize when I cast it out."

Though Celes tried to keep her face passive, some hint of her curiosity at the last statement must have shown through. Perhaps the Archmage had used magic to divine her thoughts, or perhaps she was just predictable. Regardless of how he knew, Zoraster's next statement confirmed that he knew her thoughts.

"Ah yes, you assumed she was a simple thief intent upon robbing me for her own gain did you not? That is true, after a fashion. The full truth is she was captured in a blackmail net I have been casting for some time, to gather expendable resources. The gain was to protect her reputation and her livelihood."

Celes winced inwardly at her cruel treatment of the other woman. Theft of Art was what had brought Celes here, and she hated those who did it above all else. Now that she knew Danica was a pawn, and one Zoraster planned to sacrifice when he was done playing with her, she regretted her every word to the red-haired woman.

Again Zoraster laughed, "Ah yes, the sweet taste of regret. You offer it to me so often Celes, and such a fine vintage it is. Be prepared to take my little rose to the healer when she is done entertaining my men, she may be in need of it. Remember always my admonition to you about her."

"I understand," Celes said with measured control obvious in her voice.

Zoraster's laugh this time echoed off the walls, like a choir of the damned, from every angle, "Go — wait outside her door. I'm quite sure you will know when to go to her."

Danica awakened in a different room. She was lying on a slanted table, her legs spread wide and her feet in stirrups. The old woman and an old man in dark robes, trimmed with gold, sat in front of her.

The man gingerly probed her, while the old woman looked on, as if to ensure he was doing only what he was supposed to be doing and nothing more.

Danica looked and saw that she was split badly, bleeding more than a little. She had been washed from the waist to her knees, though drying cum still coated her everywhere else. Some sort of salve was spread over her sex and the area surrounding it. The salve must have been to numb her, because she could not feel the touch of the old man's fingers.

The woman looked up, "Awake are ye? Split ye open bad he did, an' did a right number on yer innards with that pole too. Yer bein' lucky we got ye on potions and salves or ye'd not be wakin' up for long for the pain. He's gonna pray to his god ta heal ye, soon as he knows for sure what all he needs ta be healin'. Relax yerself an' don't be fussin' around."

The healer shook his head, "I've seen men torn up less after a war. It is good for you I am strong with Tarchanak, or you might well have lost this one. The bleeding outside is a pittance to the bleeding inside — a slow trickle that would have taken days to finish her — and it would have been far too late by the time you'd have realized it."

"Save yer lectures an' do yer work," the old woman said.

The cleric shook his head again, and laid his hands over Danica's loins, and her tummy — just above her mound.

"Tarchanak, I beg of thee the power to mend the wounds of this one who has serviced those who serve you, that she may continue to service their needs." This was followed by more words in a language that Danica didn't understand.

Danica had been healed before, but never by a cleric of a dark god. The warmth she expected to feel flooding through her was an icy, biting cold instead. It spread through her tummy, her sex, her bottom — every part of her. It caused her to close her eyes and darkness to creep upon her. Then, as suddenly as it had started, it ended.

"It is done," the old man said weakly and sat back.

The crone nodded and moved him aside. She examined Danica carefully, and then, apparently satisfied that the healing was indeed complete, spoke words of magic. They vanished from the room in a flash of light.

The old woman opened the familiar door and led Danica into her prison. Danica's eyes widened when she saw the bed, soaked in cum and blood.

"Get ye over here and help me. Suren' yer not wantin' to lay down in this mess now that the fun's over," Celes said with a cackle.

The statement brought a rush of anger, coupled with a shudder of ecstasy that frightened and angered her more, as Danica remembered the constant stream of cocks that had been inside her — everywhere. At the forefront of her memories was the final monster, which had made her come harder than she had ever imagined, and nearly killed her.

The old woman pulled the covers from the bed and made a tsk tsk sound when she saw the mattress was soaked through as well. "Put these over in the basket yonder," she said and pointed. She then walked over to the door and opened it. "Get ye somebody ta get me a new mattress, an' haul this one out. It's done for, fer sure," she said to someone outside, and then closed the door.

Danica tossed the covers down hard in the basket and stared angrily at the old woman.

"Ye can just stop yer scowlin' at me, lil' missy. I'm not the one what's punishin' ye, ye can be sure enough of that," Celes said with a veiled hint of anger and bitterness. As much as she wanted to apologize for the way she'd treated Danica, she couldn't bring herself to do so. Every word made her wince, but she was afraid to break out of character now.

A knock sounded on the door, and Celes opened it. Two men entered carrying a mattress. The crone gestured impatiently, and the men removed the soiled mattress, replacing it in short order. They then immediately left the room, at the woman's insistence.

Celes pulled new covers from a bedside table, tossing them on the bed. She then pulled a bundle from another drawer and handed it to Danica. "Put them there on," she instructed, and started putting the coverings on the bed.

Danica unfolded the bundle, finding a soft, silk pair of panties and a silken shift. She slid on the panties and then pulled the shift over her head. The shift was short, barely covering the panties, and she knew if she bent in the slightest, or an errant breeze caught her, it wouldn't even do that. It was also extremely tight up top and had a low cut neckline, showing off her breasts to good effect.

Danica rarely wore clothing when she was home alone. She hated the feeling of being constricted. After being naked and on display for so long, though, it felt good to be covered, and the silk felt incredible against her skin.

Danica just barely caught the old woman looking at her, while finishing dressing the bed. The crone had looked back down almost immediately upon seeing Danica turn toward her.

"Who are you?" Danica asked angrily as she sat down on the bed at the woman's urging, "What part are you supposed to be playing in Zoraster's little game. What do you want?"

"What I want? That's a long story an' one yer not likely wantin' to be hearin'!" The cackle the old woman let out after the last had a note of longing and sadness in it, which Danica just barely noticed. "The part I play is an unwilling one and a willing one at the same time."

Danica noticed the old woman had lost her strange accent completely when she said the last part. "What are you talking about?" Danica asked.

Celes sighed, "What's it matter. It will probably only add to your torment and mine to tell the story, and that will amuse Zoraster to no ends."

The crone sat down on the bed, "First off, this is not my body. Well it is, but it's not as it should be. Zoraster used his magic to age me. I'm probably about the same age as you. I'm telling you that now so you don't ask questions once I start telling you my story. Just be quiet and listen."

Danica nodded, trying to look past the grey hairs, stooped shoulders, and wrinkles to see the woman behind the old flesh in front of her.

Celes began, "I am adept in the Art. I have devoted my life to it, and have developed many original spells. Zoraster learned of me and of some of my original Art, and desired it for himself. He first offered ever-increasing prices to buy them, but I was unwilling to sell. He then decided to take them from me."

Danica nodded and listened intently, anything she learned from this story could be useful.

"I was lying spent with my partner, when he came in the night. It was not his entrance that awakened me, but her warm blood spurting on me as he slit her throat."

Danica gasped at the horrible image the words of the aged woman conjured up. Then her eyes widened, as the combination of the words lover, and her, snapped into focus in her mind.

Celes snorted, "I can see it in your eyes. Yes, I lie with women — I always have. I was not even yet a woman when I discovered that was what I was. A girlfriend and I were sleeping over at her house, and I could not sleep. She told me there was something she did which helped her to sleep when that happened. She demonstrated and guided my hand as I masturbated for the first time. It wasn't long after when we discovered there were many other ways two girls could do it better — but enough of that."

Danica tried to hide her surprise. She had never met a woman who only lay with other women. Her sister Devan lay with both men and women, but she had never met one who had never had a man — or desired one. Thanks to the magic cast on her, she felt her body quiver and her pussy moisten at the thought.

"I immediately rolled from the bed and arose shielded in my Art — ready to strike out and destroy the man who had taken my love away. I fell into the magic and sent forth my spell — which should have turned him to ashes. The spell dissolved and ran away from him like drops of water. He told me he was protected by a charm from Zoraster, and my magic could not harm him. He would have what he was sent after, but he was going to have some sport with me first."

"He stripped off the dark clothing he wore and stalked toward me, knife and pole both pointing at me, with an evil grin on his face. He pushed me to the bed and pinned my legs up hard by my chest, then stuck the tip of the knife against my breast. When he looked down to try and push that thing inside me, I struck. I pulled a knife from under my pillow and cut his manhood from him in one clean stroke as he watched."

Danica gasped at the thought, the woman had surely had her revenge — in whatever few moments the man who had killed her lover had to contemplate, before he bled to death.

"Immediately after the local watch removed his body — and that of my dear love — I began to gather what I could and prepared to vanish. I knew Zoraster would never cease after that, until he had my Art and my life. I was nearly prepared when he came — personally — and took me. All my Art was like an errant breeze, as much as it affected him."

Danica contemplated her own foolishness in attempting to steal the spell books. It was rumored that Zoraster was powerful, but to hear one accomplished in the Art — for the teleportation spell the old woman used with barely a thought was a very advanced spell — tell of his true power...

"I awoke here, in this very room. He used the same Art on me he has on you. His men came to me and probed me, but I lay limp as a rag doll. They had their way with me, but none came back for a second round. Zoraster's Art wasn't strong enough to defy the truth of my heart, and there is no place for hairy men and their poles in my heart."

Celes continued, "Zoraster was angry to the point of insensibility. They say he is mad, and indeed he is. He was frothing at the mouth when he came to punish me. 'I have your art already, bitch, but I'll have more from you, ' he said. 'If one torture doesn't work, another surely will!' Then he cast the spell that aged me."

"He told me that men still saw me as I should be — young, beautiful, large firm breasts — but women would see me as I was, an old crone who has to blow the cobwebs off her pussy to masturbate. He can remove the illusion with a thought, but he most often leaves me to suffer it, unless it would be inconvenient. He also made sure that my female parts kept making the magic that makes me desire. He didn't let that fade with everything else when he aged me. Then he used his magic to prevent me from leaving this place except by his word, and set me free to wander it — to be cajoled by the men and teased by the women I would never be with."

Danica reached out her hand and laid it on the old woman's — as a tear came to Celes' old eyes. Danica had thought this woman one of her torturers, and now knew she was actually a prisoner as well.

"You are also part of my torture — a new twist that delights Zoraster to no ends. I have to see your gorgeous body every day and know I can't have you."

Danica started a bit at the old woman's confession of desire for her. She also felt her body stir from the words, and caught herself again looking to try to see the young woman who should be sitting here, instead of a crone.

Celes raised an eyebrow, and then slapped the bed, "Enough of that. Ye wanted answers and ye got 'em. Now be forgettin' it an' let me get back ta forgettin' it as well! I'm sorry fer the way I treated ye, I took ye fer naught but a damn thief no bettern' the madman. I dinna know til later ye were lured here by desperation. Get yerself into bed an' to sleep. I wish I could help ye dearie, but I can't. I fear for yer mind, 'cause I know he'll keep yer body healed."

With that, the old woman left Danica to contemplate what she had heard. One thing stuck out, the old woman had said she was lured here. Danica wondered about that as she drifted off into slumber.

Danica awoke to her stomach rumbling, and her mouth as dry as a desert. It occurred to her she didn't know how long it had been since she had put anything in her stomach, except cum. A glance to the bedside table revealed a large platter of food, two pitchers of water, and a glass. The platter was steaming as if it had been left there only moments before.

Danica devoured the food and finished half a pitcher of water before she lay back to let it settle. She dozed for a short while and then poured two more glasses of water. The need to urinate came over her, and she rose to go to the chamber pot.

The door opened at that exact moment, and Zoraster strode in wearing the wicked, mad smile that always seemed to decorate his face. "Go to the tub and mount the seat," he commanded.

Fear knotted in the pit of Danica's stomach. This madman was already torturing her — what worse fates would he devise, if she defied him? She hurriedly mounted the seat, clenching tightly against her straining bladder.

Zoraster walked up before her, "Why do you strain to hold back nature, my little rose? Surely, it must be quite uncomfortable. Do relieve the pressure." The last had a hint of command in it, veiled, but there.

Danica bit her lip, wondering what the madman was doing now. The fear gripped her tighter as he reached out and slit the silken panties she wore with a small knife he produced.

"Part your lips and release, little rose," he said, and stared intently at her sex.

The fear inside of Danica, coupled with the intense need to do exactly what he asked, caused her to obey without question or hesitation. Danica parted her lips with the fingers of one hand and released the pressure in her bladder. Her golden stream arched out, beating a tattoo against the side of the tub. A shudder ran through Zoraster as he watched, and he reached out his hand into the stream — shuddering again. He then leaned forward, flickering his tongue through the stream, until — with a final trickle — she was empty.