The Akkadian heads for Trimon's lair

The Sorceress's finger withdrew from the Akkadian's moist cunt, but any relief he felt at it's removal was tempered when the with brought her wet finger up to the assassin's lips. Her dark eyes shone with malicious pleasure as she stroked her fingertip along his upper lip, giving the Akkadian both a taste and the smell of the female orifice that had been **** upon him. When his lip was coated the Sorceress sucked her finger with erotic slowness and then smiled at the assassin.

"Why you taste delightful my dear." She complimented. "That's the sweetest little cunt that I have tasted in a long while."

The witch released her hold on the assassin and stepped away from him. He immediately wiped his forearm across his lips and spat upon the ground at the Sorceress's feet. She merely laughed at his actions.

"Have you really lost your taste for a woman's slit so quickly Akkadian?" She mocked. "As I recall it was your favourite drink. But enough of this, finish your preparations and fulfill your contract if you want to return to your former self."

Muttering curses the Akkadian did as he was told. He snatched the whore's flimsy loincloth from her hands and thrust his own to her in it's place. Tying it in place he was **** to look downwards to position it correctly and he swore as he at last caught sight of the womanly sex he had been cursed with. Blatantly bald, as was the custom with Al Areth whores the prominant outer lips were stained with a dark henna. The Akkadian was aware that the guild of whores mixed their own formula of bodypaint, a stain that could only be removed by application of a second ointment or by persistant and painful scrubbing.

The cloth attached to the narrow belt was gossamer thin silk and even once it was in place the Akkadian could still see the darkened outline of his unwanted sex through the material. Angrily he snatched the whore's other items as they were removed and offerred. Wrist and ankle chains made of tiny silver bells tinkled as he attached them in place. These would sound as a whore danced for her client and also as her body was shaken by the actions of a man thrusting himself into her. A few items of jewelery and thin slippers were the only other items. Carefully the Akkadian slid the invisable dagger into the belt at his back. He could feel the steel blade cold against his skin, a source of small comfort that at least he was armed with weapon.

"There, that wasn't so hard was it?" The Sorceress said, looking him over. "Now get that pretty ass into Trimon's lair and kill that arrogant upstart."

The Akkadian cursed in reply and turned and stalked towards the entrance of the alley, tottering slightly at the unusual balance of his new body with it's top heavy breasts and slender legs.

"For the gods sakes try to at least walk like a whore you fool." The Sorceress hissed after him. "You look more like a drunken sailor looking for a wall to piss upon."

The Akkadian ground his teeth in frustration, but knowing that entry to the warlord's hideout was essential he composed himself and with an effort **** his hips to sway invitingly and took dainty steps as he headed out and across the street. As he emerged from the shadows into the torchlit road the guards caught sight of him, but appeared to feel unthreatened by his appearance. All the guards turned to watch his progress, although no weapons were drawn or levelled at him as he got nearer to the guards outside the thick wooden door.