Not quite yet

The next day, Martin spent some time poring over books in Brunhilde's library. That she had books at all was a bit surprising to him. He had been taught, all his life, that the Somai were barbarians, borderline illiterate, incapable of reading or appreciating the written word beyond a few rudimentary runes. This was nonsense, of course. Brunhilde not only could read, but was extraordinarily well-read. Her estate had a sizable library of books, scrolls, and engravings. It was no wonder Brunhilde was proficient with fire-magic. She owned multiple tomes on the subject. But Martin was not interested so much in the fire-magic. He was interesting in something that was also warm, in a different way.

In one of the grimoires was a chapter devoted to love, beauty, and fortune. There was a passage on depilatory spells, for removing or shaping one's hair. Martin had grown tired of constantly shaving his penis and bottom, and was looking for a way to remove the hair permanently. One of the spells involved no material components, only words and a bit of concentration.

It was just before mid-day. This room was in the ancient Yrkai tower. It was high and narrow, with tall, thin glass windows letting in rays of bright, golden morning sun that shone on the dusty old books and stark, dark-grey walls of stone brick. The walls were obscured by bookshelves thrice as high as Martin and a ladder used for accessing the topmost shelves. Martin himself sat on a stool, perched high enough to sit at a desk sized for Brunhilde. Brunhilde must have had that stool made for Sibyl, whom, Martin was surprised to learn, was also literate.

He read over the depilatory spell for the fourth or fifth time. His brow was furrowed, his black hair now down slightly past his shoulders, his bright, green eyes staring intensely at the page. Would the spell work? The grimoire claimed that the spell was unlikely to catastrophically fail, so it would cause no harm to a trimmed body part.

Martin decided to give it a try. He climbed up on to the table so that he could stand in the ray of sunlight and see his work in detail. He pulled his robe off over his head. He was still wearing the luxurious white silk robe that Brunhilde had given him. He stood naked on top of the table. His stance was mildly lopsided on account of his bad leg. He looked down at his crotch, waved his hands in the correct patterns, and murmured the words of the spell. Nothing happened.

He frowned again, his green eyes intense and gazing. What had gone wrong? He resisted the urge to pick up the tome again and thought it through. The relations between different aspects of magic played through his mind. The depilatory spell involved the minute control of forces and a vivid mental image of his own skin. He paused, considering how the different pieces fit together.

He waved his hands, very slowly, in the right pattern, without saying the words. Satisfied that he had perfected it, he waved his hands again, and spoke the words once more.

It worked! The depilatory spell worked. The hair around his bum and crotch simple fell off, like leaves from a tree in autumn, and he was completely, and permanently, bald down there.

"Oh, hello there, Martin," said a girlish voice. It was followed by a quiet titter. He turned to see Sibyl standing in the doorway, wearing her brown peasant dress. She also wore a headscarf, She covered her mouth with one hand when she giggled. Martin, for his part, covered his groin. Yes, he and Sibyl had done everything together, but it was still a bit awkward to be caught standing naked on the table in the library.

"Just putting on a show for the birds outside? Are they watching through the window?" said Sibyl. Then she burst into laughter, leaning agains the door frame, her long blonde hair shaking with her mirth.

"No, I... Uh... Well, I'm trying to shave."

"In the library?" said Sibyl, laughing even harder. She was having trouble staying on her feet. She continued, "Martin, what in the world... Ahahahaha!"

"I'm doing it with magic!"

"Magically shaving?" Sibyl stopped laughing abruptly and looked at him with genuine bemusement, continuing, "You're trying to shave with magic? Seriously?"

"Yes! It makes it permanent," said Martin. Sibyl's smile left her face, and she looked at him wonderingly.

"Why... really? It does?"

"Yes, it does."

"Can I see?"

Sibyl walked across the floor and climbed up on the stool, then sat on it. Martin dropped down on his knees. He was on his knees on the table, and she was sitting on the stool facing him, her face roughly even with his groin.

"Let me see!" she said, sounding a bit excited. Martin took his hands away, showing her.

"Oh! Oh, gods," said Sibyl, peering at him, "It really does leave you totally smooth, doesn't it?" She reached out and gently lifted his penis, looking at his scrotum and crotch. The pressed and rubbed around the base of his dick, her hand gliding over his balls. She cupped his sac and gently pressed her fingers into his taint, feeling the hairless skin.

"Gods," she said finally, "You're smooth as a baby. I... I like it a lot. It looks good on you, Martin."

"Thanks," he said, smiling a little nervously, "I'm glad. Here, give me a moment."

He stooped, picked up the silk robe, and slid it over his head, pushing his hands through the sleeves and his neck out the head-hole. To his surprise, Sibyl climbed up onto the table with him.

"Martin, could you do me a favor?" she said. She was standing in front of him. They were about the same height. He was just a bit taller.

"What?" he asked.

"I... Well, I like my bush, you know. But I still have to shave my legs and my armpits and my bottom. I was wondering... Do you think you could maybe... do that for me?"

"I could!" said Martin. Then he grinned and said, "But first, I want you to take that dress off. I have to see what I'm working with."

Sibyl smirked at him. She reached down and peeled the dress off over her head. In the golden morning sunlight, her lithe, fair body and pert breasts were intoxicating to behold. Her bright pink nipples were erect. Martin noticed, in the sunlight, that there was a light dusting of freckles on her chest above her breasts. She still had the head scarf on. Smiling coyly at him, she looked like a naughty milk-maid, seducing a farm boy behind the stables.

"Well, what are you waiting for?" she said softly, "You want to see my bare skin, don't you? Shave me bald?"

Martin smiled. Sibyl was naked and he clothed, and the feeling of occasional dominance was nice for him. He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her close, starting with a chaste kiss on her soft lips. She put her arms around his neck and moaned quietly as he kissed her again, slipping his tongue into her mouth. His hands roamed down and took a firm grip on her soft, round little butt. He broke the kiss and pressed his cheek against hers.

"Gods," he said in her ear, "You're irresistible, Sibyl. Just a real catch. A real beauty of a girl. You know that? There's nobody like you."

She giggled faintly and whispered back, "Thank you, Martin. Will you please shave me now?"

"Of course. Arms up."

Sibyl smiled at him, let go of her arms round his neck, and raised them over her head. She was grinning smugly, with one corner of her mouth tugged upward, and looking coyly at him through hooded eyes. Her armpits showed a faint dusting of light blonde hair, nearly invisible.

"Shave me, darling," she breathed, her voice a whisper that raised gooseflesh on the back of Martin's neck. He spoke the words, and the hair tumbled from her skin.

"It's permanent, right?" she said, still regarding him with bedroom eyes. He nodded.

"Yes. You'll never need to shave that again. Now, bend over."

Sibyl gave a little titter that sounded just like a tinkling bell. She turned around, spread her feet wide on the table, bent over, and touched her toes, as if doing a stretch. Her blonde hair cascaded down and over the table in the golden sunlight, and she looked up at Martin from between her legs.

"Enjoying the view, perv?" she asked, giggling.

"Definitely..." whispered Martin. He took the opportunity to grope her a bit, squeezing and kneading her small, pink rump, which had been stretched taut and tight by her posture. He took a firm grip on those fair, naked globes and stretched them open, looking lustfully at her puckered asshole. There was some fine blonde hair around it. And there was some curly blonde hair on her pussy, too.

"Just the lips, Martin," she said, "I want my bush to stay where it is. Only women get to have pubic hair in this house."

Martin shivered a bit in arousal at those words. He concentrated, waving his hands and saying the incantation quietly. It went off without a hitch. The hair on Sibyl's pussy lips and her butt fell away, leaving smooth, pale skin. Martin traced his fingers down her perineum and tickled her lips a bit, sliding his fingers in and feeling the inside of her slit, so warm and inviting.

"Ahhh... Oh, Martin, not now. As good as that feels!" she said. He withdrew his hand.

"Is it okay if I touch your butt?" he asked, gripping her bottom and pulling her cheeks this way and that. She laughed quietly.

"Yeah, a little grabbing is okay," she said, "And you can give me a spank, if you would like."

Martin felt his cock stiffen a bit as he spanked Sibyl. He yelped and whimpered, squirming her little butt around. She finally grabbed her dress in her hands, stood up, and tossed her head. Her long, blonde hair landed on her back, wavy and golden in the sunlight. Martin gently ran his fingers through it.

"Gods, Sibyl," he said softly, "You have such gorgeous hair."

"Thanks, Martin," she said. She put the dress back on and climbed down, onto the stool, and walked to the doorway. She turned around and blew him a kiss, then said, "Just wait for tonight, Martin. This tushy is all yours." As she walked out, she rolled her hips, and Martin watched her bottom wiggling as she left.

Just then, Martin's ears pricked up. There was a conversation going on at the front door. He climbed down and scampered off to listen. He walked down the hall, lit by high windows. There was a doorway at the end, with a heavy wooden door tightly shut. On the other side was the front room, where Brunhilde was apparently speaking with someone. Sibyl, too, was at the end of the hallway, leaning with one ear against the door. Martin joined her, pressing his ear against it as well.

"I told you," said Brunhilde, "I'm not selling either of them. Martin and Sibyl are my favorites."

"Oh, come now," said a familiar voice, "Not even for the amount I offered? It's quite generous. You won't get that much for them anywhere else."

"I don't want to sell them anywhere else, either!" snapped Brunhilde, "And if you don't have anything else to discuss, then I think we're done here."

"Fair enough," said the other voice. Martin gulped. The other voice was Isolde, the woman that he and Brunhilde had run into at market. The one who had mentioned possibly... gelding him. He shivered.

"Martin, what's wrong?" asked Sibyl. She took both of his hands in hers and looked up at him, squeezing his hands tightly. He told her everything about the market, and what kind of a woman Isolde was.

"Gods!" said Sibyl, speaking quietly so that neither Brunhilde nor their fierce visitor would hear, "She's horrible."

"Well, then!" snapped Isolde on the other side of the door. She and Brunhilde had been arguing a bit as Martin and Sibyl spoke. "If you're not going to sell them, then perhaps I shall find some... other way to procure them."

"You're welcome to try," said Brunhilde coldly. There was the sound of a door shutting, or rather, slamming.

"Other way?" said Sibyl worriedly, "Do you think she means to... to..."

"To kidnap us?" said Martin, "I don't know, Sibyl. I don't think Brunhilde would let it happen. We should stick close to her for the time being. And we ought to carry knives, just in case she tries something.

"Isn't it a crime to kidnap a **** here?" said Sibyl, eyes casting about uncertainly.

"It is a crime, yes," said Brunhilde's voice from the other side of the door,

"And if you two are done playing hide-and-seek we can discuss this in the open. Preferably, some place with chairs."

Martin blanched, but Sibyl laughed.

"Well, okay!" she said, opening the door. Brunhilde was there, towering over them both. They followed her down the hall, to a dining room, and sat down. Sibyl seemed to be in good spirits, but Martin look troubled in his spirit.

"What's wrong, Martin?" asked Sibyl. She was sitting beside him, and Brunhilde had just retrieved some wine and cups from a cabinet and was about to sit down.

"I just... What if she tries to grab us?" said Martin. He was sitting on a high stool, elbows on the table, face propped on his hands, fingers massaging his temples.

"You think I'm going to let that happen to you?" said Brunhilde. She placed a cup of wine in front of him and poured him a generous amount. The wine was strong wine from a far southern country, the kind of wine that ordinarily had to be cut with water. Brunhilde didn't cut it, though. She just pushed it toward him.

"Martin," she said softly, "There are gloomy thunder clouds on your brow. Drink."

He sighed. The cup was sized for Somai warriors much larger than himself, so he took it in both hands and lifted it to his lips. The wine was dark red and very sweet.

"Martin," said Sibyl, placing her hand on his shoulder, "What's going on? Are you that worried?"

Martin took another sip and said, "I don't know. It just seems like we're asking for trouble. What if Brunhilde isn't here and Isolde shows up? What will we do?"

"I'll see to that," said Brunhilde, "I can make sure that alarms are set up. As soon as the door is breached, you'll hear an uncanny scream throughout the house - that's an alarm spell. That's the sign for you and Sibyl to hide.

"I... suppose that makes me feel better," said Martin heavily.

They sat and talked until the evening. The wine flowed. Nobody was ****, but everyone was loosened up. And that caused Brunhilde to broach the subject.

"Say," she said, eyeing Martin and Sibyl, "I think you two made me a promise last night."

Sibyl giggled and said, "Oh, right. I forgot. Martin, do you remember?"

"Yes!" said Martin, sitting up suddenly. The wine had gotten to him a bit. When he turned and looked at Sibyl, she looked as intoxicating as the wine. They had lit candles around the table, including some on the walls. The room was bathed in ruddy candlelight. Sibyl had drank enough wine to turn her cheeks rosy, a light blush across her fine features. Her big, blue eyes looked coyly at Martin sidelong, and she batted her eyelashes at him. He noticed that, for how petite she was, she still looked voluptuous in her little dress. Sitting on the stool, her bum was squished to look a bit bigger and more inviting under the wavy, golden hair.

"I think we had something specific in mind," said Sibyl. Brunhilde was sitting on the other side of the table. Her elbows were propped on the table and her hands folded together, with her chin resting on her hands. Her red hair ran beautifully down her arms, her bright green eyes gazing seductively at Martin.

"Yes," said Brunhilde, "I think we're going to do something very special tonight. Sibyl asked to have it in her bottom tonight. Will you oblige her?"

"Of course," said Martin. He leaned over and kissed Sibyl. There lips softly played over one another, eyes closed in blushing faces. Little half-moans escaped Sibyl's mouth as Martin kissed her sweetly. Brunhilde stood up and quietly walked around to the other side of the table. Martin and Sibyl pulled apart from their kiss, grinning at one another.

"My gods," said Sibyl, "I just can't wait."

"Me neither," said Martin, fixing her with a deliberate, red-faced, open-mouthed grin.

"To the contrary," said Brunhilde, "You must wait, at least a little longer." As she spoke, she put her hands on Martin's shoulders and began to give him a slow massage, her fingers digging in and attacking the knots of worry and anxiety in his weary muscles. Martin closed his eyes and leaned back a bit, enjoying Brunhilde's attention. She was very good at giving a massage.

"I'm going to enjoy watching you two," said Brunhilde softly, "It's a lot of fun when Sibyl pegs you. But I haven't put one in Sibyl's ass yet. I wonder what sort of noises she'll make?"

Martin opened his eyes to see Sibyl blushing. When she noticed him looking, she made eye contact, reach over and began gently rubbing his legs and forearms. He was already facing toward her.

"We're just getting you ready, Martin," she said softly, "Just getting you all buttered up. Brunhilde's going to watch the whole thing."

"Yes, I will," said Brunhilde softly, "It's been a while since I've gotten to... Sit back and watch two people I like going at it."

"Are you gonna satisfy yourself with your little ivory friend?" teased Sibyl, looking mischievously up at Brunhilde.

"Yes, I am," said Brunhilde, "My ivory friend and I might just join in and give it to you both."

Martin was gone. Eyes closed, body relaxed and gently swaying as Brunhilde's fingers skillfully worked his flesh.

"Ooohhhh," he said, a vacant smile creeping across his peaceful features. Sibyl hiked up Martin's silk robe over his knee. He wasn't wearing anything underneath. She slid her hand up his thigh, warm soft fingers leaving tingling electric trails on his skin. Her hand skipped his penis, already half erect, and tickled his now hairless groin.

"Gods, Martin, you're so smooth down there," she said, "I can't wait to suck you."

He moaned softly in response. He felt Sibyl's hands pull his robe back down, covering his legs back up. Then her fingertips delicately traces their way along his legs and up his body, to his nipples, which she pinched softly. Martin groaned.

"Alright, everyone! One more drink," said Brunhilde abruptly. Martin and Sibyl separated, but still dared to hold hands.

"Gods, you two just can't keep your hands off of each other, can you?" said Brunhilde, smiling at them as she poured more drinks.

"I guess not," said Martin softly, "But I really do love you both."

"Of course, Martin," said Sibyl, "I love you too."

"And I," said Brunhilde, finishing up pouring the drinks. They all sat and drank.

"So would you mind," she said, smiling at Martin, "If I tell Sibyl about your life before the monastery?"

"Go ahead," said Martin, slightly drunk.

"Before he was a monk of Sol, did you know he never kissed a girl?"

"What?" cried Sibyl, smiling with wide eyes, "He really never gave anybody a kiss? Not once?"

"Not once," said Brunhilde, "He'd never touched a girl's breast. And nobody had ever touched him there."

"But why not?" asked Sibyl, "He's... He's so darned cute!" Now it was Martin's turn to blush.

"Thanks, Sibyl," he said softly, taking another drink of wine.

"Martin!" boomed Brunhilde, blushing with intoxication, "Sibyl has already sucked your dick, ridden it, and fucked your ass with an ivory cock. Why do you blush now?"

"Because I love her!" said Martin, giggling. Everyone was having a splendid time.

"You are just gorgeous, Martin," said Sibyl loudly, the wine freely coursing through her veins, "Just lovely. You have such... pretty eyes. Glowing green eyes. Just looking into your eyes gets me all excited. I just want to kiss you and... and..."

"And what?" said Martin.

"I want you in my butt!" yelled Sibyl, and then began giggling uncontrollably. She laid her face down on the table, still giggling, and then stopped abruptly. She sat up straight and looked directly at Brunhilde.

"Brunhilde," she said breathlessly, "I want to... I... Can we go now? I need his cock inside me."

She sounded a little ****, blushing, pupils dilated. Martin realized he had a raging hardon, and could feel the soft silk of his robe sliding over his penis whenever he shifted slightly.

"Of course," said Brunhilde, draining her glass. She stood up, and all three left their seats and headed upstairs...