by Julie Law
The older gentleman that escorted Isabelle to the capital appeared from the throng and smiled at her. She smiled in reply and gave him her arm when he requested it.
“Milady.” He greeted, smiling gently. Isabelle blushed, looked down, and his smile turned into a smirk. His amusement seemed to cheer her a little.
“Sir Knight.”
“The king is waiting for you, milady.” The man offered her a bow. “Will you let me escort you to him?”
Isabelle nodded, too afraid of making a mistake and saying something she shouldn’t. The older man led her through the nobles in the room, and Isabelle marveled as she studied them. They were all so well-dressed and prepared, and there was beauty among them that there wasn’t in the villages she spent her life in. And yet, neither of the women she saw were as pretty as her.
The blonde’s smile turned vicious. There wasn’t anyone who was quite as beautiful as her, and Isabelle was sure the king would fall in love at first sight.
It didn’t take them long to reach the man seated on the throne, and Isabelle felt her stomach fluttering. King Stefan was reasonably handsome: with a well cut jaw, a wide mouth and short nose, his face was striking enough for a man. His blue eyes captured hers and entranced her with a look, and the blonde curls that fell down his back made Isabelle remember her own.
The king’s lips stretched into a smirk. It seemed as if the light in the room swirled around his figure, giving him an almost divine aura. Isabelle was sure it was an effect crafted by the position of the lamps behind him, but she had to admit it was impressive. The image of purity he presented was rendered apart when he opened his mouth. “Is this the miller’s daughter?”
It was as if an iron fist had closed over Isabelle’s heart, and she fought not to stumble. There was cruelty in his voice, a cruelty that rivaled and even surpassed the one Isabelle’s grandmother had always shown her. The blonde tried to look at the knight that brought her to the capital, hoping he would somehow protect her from the king, but the older man simply confirmed who she was before releasing her arm and stepping away from her.
“Quite a skittish thing, aren’t you?” The king asked, but he didn’t wait for her answer. “Doesn’t matter. Are you the miller’s daughter I’ve heard about, woman?”
Isabelle’s words almost got caught in her throat. “I don’t know what you’ve heard, my king.”
“There are tales spreading about you throughout my city. Some say you’re the most beautiful woman in the land, and that your hair is made of gold. They say the gods smiled down upon you when you were born, and that’s why you’re blessed with your beauty.” The king smiled, but there wasn’t a shred of amusement in his countenance. “I can see you’re pretty enough, but nothing that should spark such rumors.”
Titters came from all over the room at those words, and Isabelle’s face burned. She forced back the tears that threatened to flow down her face, and tried to center herself. She was being humiliated as never before, but if she dismissed the king death might follow humiliation.
“There are other tales, however, that interest me far more.” Stefan leaned forward in his seat and Isabelle shivered as she saw the naked greed in his gaze. She feared whatever came ahead would change her life forever. “They say you can spin straw into gold.”
Isabelle blinked, not quite expecting something so outlandish. “What?” She questioned out loud, and only then realized she had interrupted the king.
His eyes burned with anger, for a few moments, before greed once again took its hold. “Preposterous claims, aren’t they? Unfortunately for you, they are the reason why you have been brought before me.”
Dread settled in Isabelle’s stomach and the blonde realized she wouldn’t leave the palace alive. “I have nothing to do with such tales. I have no idea how they spread.” Isabelle was lying, she would do anything to survive.
The king’s smirk was cruel. “Don’t you?” He didn’t give her enough time to answer. “No matter. You were brought before me to prove that you can do what those tales say you can. Tomorrow morning I will be either richer than ever, or the whole court will celebrate your execution.”
Isabelle took a step back and looked around, hoping for a way to escape, but it was too late. Two of the royal guards advanced and took hold of her arms, imprisoning her.
“Take her away to the room we have prepared.” The king’s voice grew loud and amused. “And tomorrow we’ll see just how good of a spinner she is.”
Cheers and laughter followed Isabelle out of the room, and the blonde could only cry as she was dragged to her doom.
Chapter 2
Isabelle was so exhausted she couldn’t move. The first thing she had done after being put in the room with the straw and the spindle was try to escape, but no matter how much she hit the door it wouldn’t break. Even if she had succeeded, she wouldn’t have been able to get pass the guards outside. She knew they were there, she heard them talking when she started trying to break down the door, but when she pled for their help they got silent.
Raising her head, the blonde turned to the straw and the spindle in the middle of the room. The windows were barred and, even if they weren’t, Isabelle was on the third floor. Trying to escape through one of them would have meant her death.
To live, Isabelle would have to spin the straw into gold, but that was impossible. A few moments later, desperation took hold of her. She couldn’t know it until she tried, right? It didn’t hurt to spin some straw.
After a few minutes, Isabelle was sobbing and couldn’t even look at the spindle without despairing. She was dead – it was only a matter of time until fate made it so. Isabelle cried and cried, big heaving sobs wrecking her frame as she tried to hold back the urge to scream.
Had she done anything that bad to deserve death? She had only tried to find a way to end her misery, to become something more than a poor girl from a poor village. She had always believed her beauty was a sign, and that it meant she deserved a better life than the one she had. Was that ambition so wrong?
Isabelle cried until she didn’t have more tears and then she sat on the ground, listless.
Hands fell upon her shoulders and the blonde jumped, whirling around while her heart beat like a drum. The woman she found behind her laughed, loudly and amused, and smiled down at Isabelle.
“Why are you crying, child?”
Isabelle took a couple of steps back from the other woman, suddenly afraid. She hadn’t heard the door opening, and when she looked at it she realized it hadn’t. Gazing back to the woman, Isabelle knew something wasn’t right. She couldn’t say what that was, but the hairs on the back of her neck raised in warning.
The woman leaned forward and smiled conspiratorially. “Cat got your tongue?” When Isabelle didn’t say anything, she looked around and studied her cell. “Although in these conditions I would guess a spider would be more probable.”
“Who are you?” Isabelle asked at last. The woman’s appearance wasn’t anything special. She was neither tall nor petite, her hair was brown, her face couldn’t be called beautiful or ugly – at most it was pretty. And yet, there was something that warned Isabelle and told her the woman was dangerous. If she could, Isabelle would have ran away.
“That is not terribly important right now.” The brunette started circling around Isabelle, getting far too close for the younger woman’s taste. “What really matters is what you’re doing here.”
Isabelle turned her head away.
“Don’t have anything to say?” The woman’s tone was mocking and Isabelle wanted to reply with a scathing remark, but held herself back. It would be foolish, and the blonde felt it could be just as dangerous to mouth out to the strange woman as it would be to King Stefan.
When looking at the woman’s eyes, Isabelle realized the brunette knew the reason for her imprisonment, but wanted to draw it out and have fun. “King Stefan imprisoned me because of a tale.”
“Is that it?” The other asked, seemingly confused. �
��You made up some tale and he arrests you for it?”
“No. I had nothing to do with those tales…” A hand fell upon Isabelle’s mouth and silenced her.
“I don’t like it when people lie to me. Make sure that doesn’t happen again.” The stranger’s voice turned from amused to furious in a moment, and Isabelle shivered, a sense of dread settling around her.
“I… I helped spread some tales of my beauty around, but I never said anything about being able to create gold.” Isabelle defended herself and felt some of that awful feeling around her retreat.
“Tales sometimes gain a life of their own. They change and evolve, and change again. Sometimes the heroes become villains, and villains become victims. Sometimes a knight fights for honor, another for money or love. Stories are like a child, and can be nurtured in any number of ways. You shouldn’t play with stories.”
Isabelle swallowed. The woman’s voice had become smooth and gentle, almost seductive, but the look in her eyes remained the same. The blonde coughed and looked away before continuing to recount what happened to her. “The king heard the tales that said I could spin straw into gold, and locked me in here. If by morning I don’t turn all of this straw into gold, he will kill me.”
“Then why don’t you do it?” The woman almost skipped as she moved around Isabelle.
“You can’t turn straw into gold.”
“Can’t you?”
Something in that tone of voice, maybe in its sheer smugness, made the blonde hope more than she should. “Can you?”
“If you know how to do it, you can do anything.”
It was a non-answer, and a nonsensical statement besides, but the words rang true within Isabelle. The blonde breathed deeply and tried to remain calm. Obviously, the other woman was more than normal, and for some reason she was wasting her time with Isabelle.
“And would you be able to teach me how to do such a thing?” Isabelle tried not to show just how eagerly she wanted that knowledge, but it was a wasted effort.
“Perhaps, but never in time for you to do what you need with it.”
“Then would you mind doing it for me?”
The brunette laughed, amused. “Why do you think I’m wasting my time here?”
“What do you want?” Isabelle might sometimes be naïve, but she wasn’t dumb. The woman wanted something from her, and she didn’t have much of a choice in accepting whatever it was. Only death awaited her if she refused the brown haired woman.
The other woman took a while to answer. She walked around Isabelle and gazed at the blonde, studying her. “You have nothing of value with you, and even if you did I could have all the riches I want. What do you have to offer me for your salvation?”
Isabelle didn’t answer at first. What had she to give? Nothing. She wasn’t rich or special in any way, only her beauty was out of the ordinary. Then she remembered the one thing that might have some value. “My life, I can offer you my servitude.”
“Oh, dramatic, but I have no use for a maid.” The brunette mocked Isabelle, smiling while the blonde despaired. “I doubt you would be of use to anything else though. Perhaps…”
Her voice trailed off, and Isabelle couldn’t help but hope. “Perhaps what?”
“I might have another use for you. A beautiful girl like you could warm any man’s bed. I might be able to sell you to some old noble who wants a pretty plaything between his sheets.”
Isabelle grimaced and turned her head away. She would prefer anything else, but if that was the price of her freedom and life she would pay it, despite how much it disgusted her.
“You’re not saying no, little one.” The woman caressed Isabelle’s face with one hand, forcing the blonde to meet her gaze. “Are you willing to become someone’s plaything in exchange for your life?”
The blonde tried to look away, but the other female didn’t let her. Eventually, Isabelle nodded with disgust.
The brunette released her abruptly. “Don’t worry, little dove. You won’t have to sell your body for my help in this endeavor, or at least not your whole body. Your mouth will suffice.”
“What?” Isabelle asked, confused and the other woman sighed.
“I’ll spin this straw into gold, and in exchange you’ll use your mouth to pleasure me. Do we have a deal?” The strange woman asked. The cheer in her voice had disappeared and only cruelty remained.
The blonde shivered. “You’re a woman!”
The sorceress laughed at Isabelle’s incredulity. “Does that in any way diminishes your need?” The blonde looked away and the other woman laughed again. She took a step forward and then another, forcing Isabelle to move back until she hit the wall of the room. “But if this form bothers you, I can change it.”
Then, in front of Isabelle’s eyes, she changed. Her skin seemed to bubble up for a moment and started shifting, and the blonde put her hands in front of her mouth to muffle the scream she wanted to release. It only took a few moments for the whole process to occur, perhaps two seconds at the most, but when the sorceress’s skin settled once again she was different.
Or better said, he was different. The man that now stood in front of Isabelle could almost be her twin: his hair was the same shade of hers, his blue eyes hers. His face was more masculine, obviously, and his jaw had a sharp tilt to it, but the resemblance between her and him were incredible. He was a far more handsome man than Stefan.
For one moment, Isabelle was so startled she couldn’t think. Was the man in front of her the sorceress that had been tormenting her? Then he spoke, and any doubts Isabelle had were extinguished.
“If I look like this, will you mind pleasuring me?” His, or hers, voice was deeper, more soothing and for a few moments Isabelle was unable to come up with a reply. The sorceress had turned into what Isabelle might look like as a male, and that unsettled the blonde deeply.
The beautiful god in front of Isabelle reached out with one hand and caressed her face, making her shiver. When she gazed at his eyes, she saw the cruelty she had seen in the brunette’s gaze moments before.
Isabelle looked down. She couldn’t deny the other being, not when denying him would mean her death, and certainly not when he looked like that.
The other saw her hesitation, and knew she was defeated. His grin was maniac, and he poised his hands on Isabelle’s shoulders. “Kneel, and please me, and you’ll live to see another day. I’ll make sure of it.”
The blonde hesitated, but then slowly glided down to her knees. His hands on her shoulders didn’t help, gently pushing and making her unable to resist. She didn’t truly want to resist though. She wanted to be free and wanted to get on with her life. And Isabelle couldn’t deny that part of her was attracted to the witch’s new form.
The being in front of her looked like a real hero should look like – the way King Stefan should look like. For someone who had seen the world through a filter of beautiful equal’s good and ugly equal’s evil, the sorceress’s new form was too seductive to resist.
When she truly processed what she was doing, Isabelle was on her knees, hands reaching out for the other’s pants. She only hesitated for a moment before continuing with her task. Isabelle wanted above anything to live, and a week before she was even contemplating one day selling her body to survive. It couldn’t be such a bad fate, could it? Not when the one seducing her looked like such a handsome man. That it was really the sorceress didn’t bother Isabelle as much as it should.
Slowly, Isabelle unfastened the man’s pants and then dragged them down that masculine body. She hesitated before reaching for the undergarments, but eventually gained the courage to continue and freed his hardness. It was the first time she gazed at a man’s cock, and Isabelle didn’t know quite what to think about it.
Isabelle’s lack of experience with such matters didn’t allow her to say whether it was a big member or not, though she believed it was a well-sized one. Its skin was darker than that surrounding it, but strangely soft, and Isabelle marveled as she touched it. When
it twitched, she leaned back and the sorceress-turned-man laughed.
“Don’t be afraid, it’s not going to eat you.” His voice came out rough with lust and something else, and Isabelle shivered. “You could almost say you’re the one who’s going to eat it.”
Isabelle looked aside at the reminder, but a hand on her hair made her turn back. She hesitated before reaching once again with her hand – she didn’t know what to do, had never done anything like it before. After another moment she sighed, and reluctantly looked at the sorceress’s face. “I don’t know what to do.”
His smirk contained all of his arrogance, all of his pride and cruelty, and Isabelle felt her body responding against her wishes. “Then let me teach you.” His hand closed over one of hers and pulled it against his member, making her circle his rod. Slowly, he started pumping himself with Isabelle’s hand.
She marveled as she felt the flesh under her touch harden even further and it started to throb. When she looked at his eyes, she saw that the emotions he had been wearing were being clouded by something and it didn’t take her long to realize it was lust. Isabelle’s mouth dried out.
She didn’t want to, but the sight of him was making her excited. The being in front of her was incredibly powerful, of that she had no doubt, but doing what she was doing was giving her power over him. There was a pressure between her thighs, something she had always felt the need to ignore before, but now realized was perfectly natural. Isabelle pressed her thighs against one another, trying to create some friction on her core and ease some of that pressure.
Hesitantly, the blonde got rid of his grip and started exploring his body by herself. She pumped his rod a few more times, and then focused on the tip of him, rubbing it with her thumb. The moan he released in reply made her aware he enjoyed it, and she became more adventurous.
Isabelle reached out with her other hand and cupped his balls, playing with the rugged skin for a few moments and marveling at its texture. It was quite unlike anything she had ever touched. He groaned and she let a smile take hold of her lips.
