He gives up the Sorceress and Naerwyn is the worse for it.

Quickly the Akkadian decides he has little loyalty to the sorceress. The fact she tricked him into this mission by cruelly changing him into a weak woman means the assassin's code of loyalty to the client is not in play.

"The foul Sorceress of Al Areth is the one behind this." He clearly states.

Trimon frowns. "That bitch, I am not surprised. Let me guess, she wants her accursed sigil back? Or were you sent to put a knife in my back while I slept? Or both?"

Not knowing about the sigil the assassin ponders how much he should admit to, before he can speak the buxom redhead answers.

"We were both hired to steal back the sigil. Minaja had access, and I had the skills to complete the robbery."

"Apparently not enough." Trimon snorts, looking the taller woman over. "What is your real name cunt?"

"Naerwyn Samteth of Tortage, swine." The beautiful thief proudly admits, angered that such a pig as Trimon would question her abilities.

"So a common thief, but what about you Minaja?" Trimon looks over the assassin, pondering his fate.

Unlike Naerwyn, he swallows his pride in order to save his hide and answers, "I was bewitched." The assassin hopes this partial lie will be convincing.

Its success brings about mixed emotions, howevers. He sees a hint of compassion in Trimon's eyes which means he has bought into the Akkadian's lie. Yet his eyes only reinforces how weak and feeble the assassin must appear to the warlord.

"You have always been rather dull my little Minaja." Trimon moves towards the assassin and cups the Akkadian?s chin like a master would do to his dog. Dragging his hand down the transformed man's chest the Warlord cups his ample left breast and gentle slaps its underside. "But your mind isn't why I have kept you around?"

Stepping back Trimon's tone again becomes serious. "I believe you my favorite little wench, however, you and your friend still need to be punished. Since you acted against your will, and you spoke up first, your torments will be the lesser. My guards deserve a reward, so they will have their way with both of you. Being a whore, this will be but a little matter for you. But I have a feeling your friend will not take kindly by being **** by a man."

"You fucking bastard." Naerwyn hisses.

"Guards," Trimon looks at the buxom thief with a mixture of distain and amusement. "Whoever has this cunt, take her in her ass, and don't be gentle."

"I will castrate any man who touches me." The bound thief vainly proclaims.

Ignoring her empty threats Trimon turns and begins to leave the **** chamber. As he passes the chief-torturer he gives another order. "After my guards have had their fun, give these two whores the whip. Little Minaja gets only nine, but the Tortagean cunt thinks she can pretend to be a man, so be it, give her the full forty-eight."

"Noo!" Naerwyn stammers as the bravado leaves her voice at such a harsh sentence.

Looking back at the arrogant thief Trimon smiles. "Make sure the whip kisses the cunt's front as well as her backside. I want the lash to remind her how weak a woman's body truly is."

The torturer gives a large grin, pleased at such a sadistic order. "Oh of course my lord, the Tortagean whore will scream out your name as she begs for mercy."

"Ashtoreth, please no." Naerwyn mutters a **** prayer as she realizes her prideful tongue has finally caught up with her.

"Place them in chains after justice is done and I will decide their fate later. They might turn a nice profit at a Turan **** market." Trimon gives one final order as he leaves the chamber.

After bowing to the departing warlord, the chief torturer rubs his hands together with sadistic glee as he looks over the two objects of his amusement. "Guards enjoy yourself." He orders. "Oda, get your thickest whip."