Cilicia's Pov

I was born in a brothel.

My mum was a whore, with no sense of shame. Dad...got mixed with merchants. Not that he was one himself, more like a servant who got himself a favour for a night.

My mum happened to spread her legs apart, at her most fertile moment. Herbal concoctions got wrong, and I showed up. Ruining her customers. Was told she'd curse every day, and fight for her rights.

She got none though.

She had to squeeze in with some butchery market, flaking hides off, till her water broke. Mum was back to the brothel, the instant I dropped out of her lady part.

I'd say her mouth was a hell of a truth pill, cause she never hid a single thing from me.

"I didn't plan for you, Cece," she'd say, in a sweet tone, reminding me of the nature of my birth.

"But now you're here, you'd better make it worth it."

Mum repeated those words, daily, ever since I could walk. The instant I became a teenager, I was used to seeing adults screwing in the weirdest of places. I knew the shade of mouth makeup that made men crazy. I also knew what scent and the kind of clothing you could wear to attract one.

Thanks to mum, of course.

She'd warn me to stay off from a multitude of men, though.

"They're soldiers, they'll die off." she'll tell me. "Have nothing to offer."

"Go for the bigger patrons. A chief who is bored of his wife? Some elder merchant with some gold? Anything not ordinary."

"What's it about these people?" I'd ask every day. "Why should I spend my time chasing these people, mum?"

"They'll get you out of your hell hole, Cece."

She'd smile saying. Her face, though, a little wrinkled from old age, yet, coated in makeup.

Mum never named me; you know. I took my name out of a brothel ad, and next thing, everyone started calling me that. Cicilia with Cece as the short form.

I was more after getting patrons, clients, merchants, as days went on. There were levels to the entire whorilistic thing, if that is a word.

The experienced whores who spread their legs literally, anywhere. The middle whores, with a fair game, not as good as the experienced. And, the novices, who were like new born.

The novices were mostly dancers who didn't have to spread their woman parts. In the brothel, you took what you gave in.

I did more of the dance for them, as I aged. My sticky and wimpy legs and entire body didn't get me what I needed though. There used to be this girl. Her name was Miranda, and she had everything I could wish for.

Mighty bosoms, an attractive face and well-taken care of, skin.

"Learn from me, Cece," she'd say, walking in glorious pride, swaying her hand fan like she owned the floor.

I really admired her, and overtime, she became our brothel star. Mum got off market, and had to settle with some drunkard who gave her a roof.

I stayed back at the brothel, still untouched, with no one to watch my back.

"How do you do it?" I dreamily asked Miranda, one day.

"Do what?"

"Get these men to fall on your feet." I answered, feeling terribly unwanted by everything around me.

"I grew."

Remember that day so clearly. She didn't wait for me to ask any other thing, instead, she dismissed me, in a superior and conceited manner.

Yet in an appealing way.

A seductress.

That was what she was. And I wanted to learn from her. I craved to stop wearing rags and wear clothes with diamonds and rhinestones. Wore mum's but they were too big for me. Got tired, and tried to sell them off.

But that didn't go well, when I was called a thief in the village square. Had to run off!

Got back tired. Till I saw Miranda walking flawlessly. It was then I got an idea. I studied her, writing everything about her, in a book. One day, it got me in trouble.

Got caught up, from the exact people mum warned me to stay away from. The soldiers. I recalled everything, right from how my clothes were being torn, and the pleasures they took from my screaming.

I was left bruised in my female parts, at the point of death. Could have sworn I saw the Goddess that day...

"Hey,"

Flickering my heavy eyes, one morning, that was the voice I heard. While I was rotting away, weakly, on the floor, with no one to help me.

"Need some help?"

My eyes had narrowed at his words.

I shakily took his hands and he introduced himself. Telling me to hand over the shredded book in my hands, but I didn't.

Knowing that book contained all I learnt— it was my key to a better living.

"What's your name?" I had asked, hoping he had some relation to my dad or relative.

"Lawton."

"Why did you help me?" I seethed. "Did someone send you?"

"No. No, alright? I want to help, that's it. That's what I was taught to."

At his words, I had swallowed in hurt. Tears flickered my eyes when he took me to his house making me wash up.

My brain had wondered what type of creature helps another expecting nothing in return. In a pitiful state, non-virginal state, where I thought I'd die.

"Who is she?"

"I found her dying off at the gates of the brothel." he answered his mum, who asked.

"And you brought her here?"

"You taught me to help people." he seethed in return.

His mum hated me.

A single mother whose husband ran away, she believed I was one of those people who stole her husband.

The choosing was never for me, because I certainly wasn't a virgin. I just happened to be wandering, somewhere around the ship, and got mistook for another.

"I'm not a virgin, dimwits,"

I'd seethe at them. But that got me nothing but punishments, so I learn to adapt in the castle. Met Francesca and we got along, having the same motives— we needed power.

And she needed my whorilistic abilities.

Did get us far though, as ranks of Rook and Bishop respectively. Thanks to Lady Archer, who held that power to, inviting us to her drugged son.

I missed Lawton, but things had changed now.

Locked in an underground dungeon, I found myself weeping at certain things in life. Wishing to know how things would have gone if I had a good opportunity.

***

Decided to write up her back story, to shed light on the future of this book. Let me know your thoughts 💭🙃

Ahead chapters on Radish,

Goodnovel,

iReader and Owonovel😘