“Yes,” you shamefacedly reply.

"You'll do," he says, his eyes drinking in your nakedness. "Now get dressed." You pull your loincloth up over your hips. It becomes stained with your juices, an obvious reminder of what you have just done, but it is better than being naked. Then you grab the top, pulling it down over your flushed breasts. Pohst takes out a hip flask and passes it to you. "Drink."

"What is it?" You ask suspiciously. He smirks and waits. You sniff the flask. The smell is sour and you bring it to your lips and taste. "**** bitters," you state.

"Despite being amusing, it's bad for business having one of my new girls get pregnant. Now drink," he states.

You follow the order. The **** bitters taste terrible, but every swallow is worth it. You have no desire to become pregnant.

He produces a key and unlocks your leash at the dais. Then, taking the end of your leash, he leads you up out of the oubliette into the pleasure house as a common ****.

You feel trepidation and fear as you are lead into the main room. It is not yet evening and the few customers consist of stone masons, bakers, cabinet makers and other skilled craftsman that have finished their day and have enough coin for a beer and a brol before returning to their homes and families for an evening meal. It is not the customers you fear. It is your former employees and slaves.

As you step into the room a sudden silence falls over everyone there. And Pohst has assembled everyone. Every underling, crony, thug, tough, pimp, lackey, barman, cook, kitchen hand and scullery maid. Worse every natural **** and serum girl in the pleasure house is assembled. You feel their eyes on you and sense their keen interest. This interest falls upon you bodily for in those many eyes you can see all manner of emotions directed at you - pleasure, amusement, scorn, vindictiveness, lust, worry, pity and regret. Under this onslaught you find yourself confused and unsure. Being uncertain is nothing like you. You were the master. You controlled their destiny. Now they control yours.

You stand self consciously, displayed like a trophy. Pohst reigns you in on your short leash. You are acutely aware of your sex stained loincloth that does little to conceal your voluptuous female form. The room and everyone in it feel so much larger and you feel so insignificant - so much less.

"This was Visp. Now she is nothing but a serum girl. Nothing. More. Any who treat her otherwise will face the same fate as her. The same fate as Glija and Ritho!" You swallow at the names. Glija and Ritho were your two most trusted men, the two who you would most likely have turned too to oust Pohst. He looks pointedly at the corner alcove as Khali pulls back the curtain and steps out, lash in hand.

Within it is a wide hipped, short legged, busty negress. On her ample buttocks and breast are the red marks of Khali's lash - not a proper lashing but more an enticement. The black girl is slowly tonguing a milky skinned girls pussy, and both girl's eye Pohst with fear and desire. There is a hesitancy to the black girls actions, although she is obviously aroused, her freshly pierced nipples erect and her breath coming in excited gasps. It is clear a part of her still clings fearfully to her former self, trying to deny the **** needs that burn in her. The **** within made her eye Pohst, her new master, with a smoldering desire. She sensuously licked her full pink lips, as though imagining his cock sliding in and out of them.

A small scar on her cheek and the transformation warped tattoos of naked woman and dragons on her breasts told you that the negress was Glija. Formerly she had been a large, powerful white man, with a grizzled mane of blonde hair and voracious appetites for food, drink and woman. As she tongued the writhing girl you see that she has lost none of her appetite for woman. You laugh nervously.

The pale girl lost in pleasure beneath her must be Ritho, a slender petite creature with small breasts and almost boyish hips. But there is nothing boyish about the way she is reacting to Glija's enthusiastic licking. You feel fleeting sorrow for Ritho. The tall, lean, almost gangly cutthroat from the north with a zest for **** and mischief is nothing like this simpering little slut. The nub of her small sex stands proud and her nipples are like little rocks. You feel yourself moisten as you observe the tableau that Pohst has set out.

You can sympathise how they ended up like this. Then you marvel at Pohst's audacity and wonder what he intends. Will he order you to join them? Will you obey? More terrifying, could you resist?

You turn again, avidly watching the scene, feeling yourself moistening as you are drawn into it. Your nipples point the fabric of your top, unwittingly broadcasting your desire. Glija is so beautiful. You wonder if having your nipples pierced would hurt. It looks so... perverted. And her breasts are so much bigger than yours. If you were still a man you'd brol them, but now you'd have to employ your tongue and hands. You could join them on the floor. Ritho could tongue you. You could work on Glija. Three hot, sweat slicked slaves...

Then Glija looks you in the eye, still licking. You cannot meet her gaze for long. You turn to look at Pohst and he smiles.