© Copyright 2011 - Lobo De la Sombra - Used by permission
Storycodes: Solo-F; M/f; bond; caged; delivery; slave; mc; sarcophagus; entrap; insert; sex; cons/nc; X
“Please!” she begged, “have mercy!”
Kneeling before the altar, Erin struggled against the bonds that held her. Eyes wide with fear, she stared at the man who stood looking down at her.
“You were found stealing from me,” the man said.
“It was only garbage, my lord,” she replied frantically. “Please forgive me, I was starving.”
“Garbage it may have been,” the man said serenely, “yet it was mine, not yours to take. I’ve a mind to let you be the food, instead.” Smiling, he nodded toward the altar.
“No!” Desperately, Erin threw herself into the struggle against her bonds. As she writhed against the ropes, she could feel the man’s eyes on her, watching her breasts heave, her hips twist, with each frantic motion. Finally, exhausted, she collapsed to the floor.
“Please,” she moaned in desperation, “have mercy on me, my lord.”
For a long moment, the man simply gazed down at her, then he nodded. “Perhaps,” he mused, “there is a better use for you. I will send you as a gift to The Sorcerer. There, you will spy out his secrets. Once you know all there is to know of him, you will return here and report to me.”
Erin shuddered. The legend of The Sorcerer was filled with darkness. He had lived forever, it was said, in that dark palace full of danger. None who had entered his lair unbidden had ever returned.
Consumed by her fear, she offered no resistance as she was taken from the room, bathed, then placed into a wheeled cage drawn by a single horse. There was no driver, yet the horse seemed to know the way, drawing her helplessly toward The Sorcerer, and whatever doom he held for her.
* * * *
Eleanor, master thief, master assassin, crept silently into the lair of The Sorcerer. With silent, stealthy feet, she moved furtively toward the inner sanctum.
She had no idea why he was called The Sorcerer. She had never believed in magic, herself, though her parents had been avid believers. Not that it mattered. Her job was to kill The Sorcerer and retrieve a priceless artifact.
Slinking down a narrow corridor, she soon fund her way blocked by a wide pool. Shrugging, she turned back, selecting another way at the first junction. This led her to another pool… or was it the same one? The blank, featureless walls made it impossible to tell the difference.
After several corridors, and just as many pools, she stopped, cursing. At each pool… or were they all the same one?… she could see the corridor continue on the other side. Her choices now were to cross, or turn back. With another curse, she carefully lowered herself into the pool, swimming with fast, silent strokes for the other side.
It wasn’t water, she decided as she swam. For one thing, it didn’t feel wet. Actually, it didn’t feel much like anything. It was as if she were swimming through a pool of air. Whatever it was, the fumes seemed to be making her head a bit fuzzy. Must be fumes, she decided. Regular air wouldn’t make her feel like this.
Reaching the other side, she climbed into the corridor. As she prepared to move on, she felt something moving on her right hand. She raised it, staring at the black liquid that dripped from her fingers. Black, the exact color of her clothing. As she watched, she noticed her sleeve seemed to be a bit shorter. Shaking her head, she watched as her sleeve seemed to turn to liquid and run down her hand, dripping from her fingers to the floor.
This should seem really strange, she thought, watching as her clothes, her gear, even her weapons, became liquid and slowly ran from her body. Soon, she stood naked, a black, brown and silver pool at her feet. Even as she watched, the liquid ran back to the pool across which she’d just come, ran over the edge, and vanished into the dark depths.
She turned away, slightly puzzled. That had been quite odd, she thought. She should be frightened, or at least worried, about a pool that turned all her clothes to water, leaving her naked and defenseless, but for some reason, she felt only that slight puzzlement. Shrugging, she turned and moved down the corridor.
As she went, the light around her faded, until she groped her way through total darkness. Ahead, she could see two dots of light. Grateful for even that tiny break from the darkness around her, she carefully moved forward, only gradually beginning to notice another strange thing.
With each step, the corridor seemed to be growing narrower. Soon, the walls brushed against her sides, her shoulders, even the sides of her head. It was almost as it the corridor were conforming itself to the outline of her body.
Maybe he is a sorcerer, she thought distractedly. Or maybe it was the air over that pool, making her imagine things. Either way, the small lights beckoned, and she felt the need to answer that call.
She had entered the corridor in a skulking crouch, arms and knees bent, back arched slightly. As she moved, the changing walls pressed against her, forcing her to shift her position, until soon, she moved upright, arms at her sides. This was actually better, she thought, since it put those lights at eye level. Shrugging aside any thoughts about the strange behavior of the walls, she continued forward.
Finally, she reached the lights. They came, she saw, from two eye shaped openings in the end of the corridor. Reaching the end, she pressed her eyes to the openings, barely noticing when something seemed to poke at her lips. Absently, she parted her lips just enough to let whatever it was pass between them. Intently, she gazed through the small openings.
On the other side, she saw a room, comfortably furnished. In that room sat a man. No longer young, but not yet old, he talked quietly with a woman who sat beside him. Even as her eyes focused, the man turned toward her, looking straight into her eyes.
“Welcome,” he said softly.
Startled, her mind finally beginning to clear, she stepped back, only to realize that she hadn’t actually moved. The corridor, it seemed, had closed in behind her. Her attempt to move had only pressed her back against a barrier that seemed to shape itself to her every curve. Now the walls closed in, pressing against her, their tight embrace allowing her no movement at all. Standing straight, her arms at her sides, she could only watch, helplessly, as The Sorcerer approached her.
“Why did she do that?” Seated on a comfortable couch, Erin turned her eyes toward the one called The Sorcerer. There was no fear in those eyes, only puzzlement.
Seated beside him, she had watched the strange woman enter the palace. Through some means she knew she would never understand, she could see the woman’s every move, as if she watched a picture in motion.
She had watched as the woman approached the bathing pool, turning away and returning several times. Instead of walking around, the woman then swam across, drawing herself from the water on the other side.
Once out of the water, the woman had quickly shed all clothing and equipment, dropping all to the floor at her feet. She had stared at the pile for a moment, then kicked it into the water before turning away.
She had left the bathing room in a crouch, but as she moved, her body straightened, until she strode proudly forward, arms at her sides. Straight down the corridor she had come, and into this room.
Just inside the door stood an empty sarcophagus, it’s back open as if waiting. Calmly, the woman had stepped inside, pressing herself into the narrow opening. As she did, the rather bland features on the front of the sarcophagus had changed, becoming her features, the contours of the body becoming hers. Once she was fully inside, the back had swung closed with a click of closing bolts.
“Why did she do that, Jared?” Erin asked again, watching as the strange woman’s eyes suddenly widened with the realization of her helplessness. A muffled moan sprang from the small tube that extended from the figure’s lips, and the whole sarcophagus seemed to quiver as the woman trapped within fought her imprisonment. Finally, all became still, only the rapid blinking of the woman’s eyes breaking the stillness.
“Why?” Jared, the one called The Sorcerer, shrugged. “Simple mind control, actually. What she saw, my dear little spy, was not what she saw.”
Erin found herself blushing at his words. He had known, from the moment she arrived, the exact reason for her presence. He had also known, it seemed, of her own unwillingness, her very real fears of the dark, monstrous punishment she felt sure awaited her. He would, she knew without a doubt, cast her to some dark doom.
Instead, he had taken her in, sheltered and protected her. His name, she had learned was Jared. He had, he admitted, lived here for many centuries, probing the secrets of magic, both light and dark. The light, or good, magic, he wrote of in one of the many volumes lining the walls of his library. Of the dark magic, he wrote as well, of its strengths, its weaknesses, how to defeat it.
He was, it turned out, not only a scholar, but an advisor to magicians near and far. With the knowledge he gained of dark magic, he advised, helping others defeat whatever dark threat they might face.
And the dark legend of The Sorcerer?
“Oh, I created that myself, a few hundred years ago,” he had told her once, smiling at her questions. “Rumors are easy to start. Once started, they have a way of growing on their own. And the darker the story, the less likely anyone will bother you.”
Far from a monster, Erin had found him to be a kind, gentle man. In the months she had been here, she had slowly lost her fear of him, finding it replaced with respect, affection, and finally, love. She now served as his assistant, fetching whatever he might need in his work. Of his writings, she was not allowed to read. He had forbidden it, saying he would never allow her to be tainted by the magic he studied.
Now she watched as Jared opened a small panel at the crotch of the sarcophagus. Inserting his finger, he had probed gently, finally removing the finger with a satisfied grunt. He then took up a slender tube with a strange, bulbous end. Placing the bulb at the opening, he had pushed it slowly inside, his actions causing a grunted moan to issue from the figure’s lips. Another, slightly larger tube, was inserted at the figure’s rear, producing a slightly louder grunt.
“What will you do with her?” Erin asked, rising to stand beside Jared.
“She’s not like you,” he replied, draping an arm across her shoulders, smiling as she nestled herself to his side. “You came here unwilling, afraid, sent to do something you had no desire to do. You, dear one, are among the innocent.
“That one,” he continued, nodding toward the sarcophagus and the woman held helplessly inside, “is anything but innocent. She came of her own will, freely, to steal and kill. She was sent, and paid, by the same man who sent you.” Erin shivered at the memory, and his arm tightened around her, his strength calming her.
“Will she stay there forever?” Erin asked, bringing another smile to his lips.
“No, dear one, not forever. I intend to send her back where she came from. A gift, you might say, in return for the very precious gift he gave me.” Still smiling, he pressed his lips to hers in a gentle kiss, one she returned with abandon. Soon, the two lay on the floor, sounds of their passionate lovemaking filling the room.
Within her prison, Eleanor struggled yet again to free herself, succeeding only in exhausting herself. The walls about her held her tightly, allowing no movement at all. In her exhaustion, she wasn’t even allowed to slump, being forced to remain fully upright. The tube between her lips allowed her to suck in air. The two lower tubes, she knew, would allow something less pleasant to leave her helpless body. Watching the couple on the floor before her, she found herself wondering what her employer would do when he received his “gift.” A naked, helpless assassin, trapped in a wooden shell. What would he do to her?
She found herself hoping she enjoyed it half as much as the woman on the floor was enjoying herself.