was the same size and shape as Storeroom #1 (the one with the
pillory and stocks that Scotti had already visited). Also,
it had the same long, narrow bank of cloister-style windows set
high in the back wall, so there would have been plenty of light,
even if Iris hadn't switched on the overhead light, which was an
LED bulb shining in a fixture hanging just clear of the exposed
rafters. The floor was the same concrete and the walls the
same unstained and unpainted barn-wood.
Also, like Storeroom #1, Storeroom #4 was not empty. It
contained something! And that something was Amy DuPont and
a large, square, upright wooden frame of heavy timbers supported
by heavy diagonal transverse braces and resting on the
floor! Granted, Amy and the frame should have counted as two
somethings, but the older DuPont sister and the frame were
That is, Amy was up on her toes with her limbs flung wide in a
standing spread-eagle and she was secured in place by steel
chains and thick, wide, black, well-padded leather cuffs around
her ankles and wrists! The wrist-cuffs were wider than the
ankle-cuffs, by the way, and Scotti recognized them as sterling
examples of "suspension-cuffs," products designed to support the
wearer by her wrists and the bases of her hands with minimal
discomfort and without causing damage to her joints or
skin. Whether or not they actually worked that way, Scotti
wasn't entirely sure, but Amy didn't seem to be in any serious
distress. What she did seem to be, however, was ticked
And just to be clear, the elder DuPont sister was standing in
the form of an X, like Leonardo da Vinci's famous Vitruvian
Man. Taut steel chains led from the ankle-cuffs to
steel eye-bolts solidly screwed into the base of the left and
right vertical timbers, where they met the horizontal beam
resting on the floor. Equally taut chains led from the
wrist-suspension-cuffs, through steel guide-runners mounted on
the underside of the top horizontal timber near the upper
corners, then disappeared into slots in the corners themselves.
Yes, Amy was in full-stretch, and she was also naked!
That meant her breasts were semi-flattened and her
musculature clearly defined, making her something of a detailed
anatomical display! Actually, Amy wasn't quite naked.
A wide collar that matched the wrist and ankle restraints in
color, weight, and style was buckled around her neck.
Also, a black, perforated, silicon-rubber ball-gag with a black
leather strap was tightly buckled in her open and grimacing
mouth, filling it to capacity and inducing the usual
chin-dribble of glistening saliva that spotted her chest and
Her long, dark brown hair was coiled in a rather haphazard
coil/bun atop her head, held in place by a few tight turns of
thin cord. Several riotous brown strands had eluded
capture during the bun-making process and framed her glowering,
ball-gagged face in a frizzy cloud.
Finally, Amy's stretched, taut, fair-skinned body was glowing...
meaning shining with a light patina of sweat. That wasn't
particularly surprising as it was a hot afternoon and the sun
had been beating on the storage building roof all day. Amy
glared at Scotti with her big, brown, doe eyes.
Clearly, she was not happy. In fact, by all
appearances she was supremely pissed off! She was
also naked, spreadeagled in semi-suspension, gagged, and
directing her angry gaze at Scotti, not her little
sister, the obvious perpetrator of her captivity.
Green eyes wide, Scotti stared at Amy and her predicament.
Then—"Thud!"—she flinched. Iris had closed the door
behind her, meaning them, meaning all of them, Amy
included. Why is she scowling at me? Scotti
wondered, still staring at Amy. I didn't do anything.
Meanwhile, Iris had freed the tails of her work-shirt from her
jeans and was unbuttoning the buttons. "Mother calls this
her Standard Vertical Rack." She shrugged out of the shirt
and pointed to the frame's upper left corner, where the chain
disappeared into the timber. "The tightening mechanism is
a system of steel gears, guides, and roller-chains Mother buys
from Archer Metals, a company in Northern California. It
has all sorts of applications, meaning the system and its
components. All we have to do is come up with
joinery that hides most of it... and that looks good, of
Still staring at Amy (who was still glaring back), Scotti
""We buy most of our steel brackets, braces, side-rails,
lashing-points, and the like from Cody Archer."
Scotti nodded, again, but her eyes remained glued to Amy's
stretched, helpless body... and gagged, glaring face.
Seriously, Scotti thought, I didn't do anything.
She then realized Iris had been explaining more about the rack's
metalwork and... joinery? "Huh?" Scotti inquired
Iris rolled her eyes, then started pointing at the frame's
various components. "The base and right-vertical timbers
are solid, but the horizontal and left-verticals are hollow,
four planks box-joined to look like solid
timbers. The tightening mechanism runs inside."
Scotti nodded yet again. The illusion of the entire
box-shaped frame being made of solid timbers was perfect... or
looked that way to her non-woodworker eyes, and without crawling
all over the thing with a magnifying glass.
"See the wheel on the outside of the left-vertical?" Iris
pointed at the wheel in question.
Scotti had noticed it earlier, but had been preoccupied by being
glared at by a naked, spreadeagled, glistening, gagged, and
angry Amy DuPont. Anyway, the wheel was made of wood, with
hefty spokes and rim, and only about nine or ten inches in
"It tightens both wrist chains, with a pawl to maintain the
tension," Iris continued. "It makes the most entertaining
clattering noise as it tightens."
All Scotti could do was nod. She was at a loss for
words. Also, her heart was hammering and a bead of sweat
was dripping down her right temple. It really was hot
in Storeroom #4. Maybe not hot-hot, but
definitely hot. It certainly wasn't cool.
Meanwhile, Iris had finished removing her work-shirt—leaving her
dressed in boots, jeans, and a white tank-top with
spaghetti-thin straps (and no bra)—and had hung the garment from
the first of a row of six iron coat hooks screwed into an
exposed stud near the closed door. And hanging by their
retaining straps from hooks two, three, and four were:
Hook #2—A black leather riding crop! And in
Scotti's semi-informed opinion, it was a very nice crop.
Well made. First-class leatherwork.
Scotti was still speechless (as well as wide-eyed and sweating),
and her thoughts eloquently summed up the situation. Oh.
Hook #3—A black leather flogger with something like twenty
long, thin, dangling tails and a braided handle! Like
the crop, it was also quite obviously well made.
Hook #4—A wooden paddle! A spanker! It was
stained walnut (and might very well have been walnut
for all Scotti could tell). Its handle was tightly
wrapped with more black leather. The business end was
six to eight inches long and perforated in a regular pattern
down its entire length by about a dozen evenly spaced,
half-inch diameter drilled holes.
Smiling a truly wicked smile, Iris ran her right index down
the handles of the hanging instruments, causing each to start
swinging. She then selected the riding crop, slipped its
retaining strap over her right wrist, then casually... very
casually... sauntered in the direction of her helpless, naked,
collared, gagged, and spreadeagled older sister, mincing her
booted steps, swinging her hips, and putting on a show.
Iris was enjoying herself... and still Amy was glaring
Why aren't you glaring at her? Scotti silently
demanded. She meant Iris, of course. She's the
villainous villainess, not me.
Scotti's heart was still hammering, her armpits had become
noticeably moist, and were approaching squishy.
She considered removing her own shirt, but decided that might
send some sort of signal that she might wish to participate
in whatever was about to happen as more than a wide-eyed,
innocent observer, which would give Abby an empirically
objective excuse to retaliate against her for her
presence while Iris did whatever it was Iris was about to
do. Scotti knew Amy needed no such excuse and was already
fully convinced that she was fully guilty, meaning totally and
irretrievably complicit in the current situation, but there was
no need to dig the hole any deeper. She continued wearing
the shirt (and her armpits graduated from moist to undeniably
"Now, as you can see..." Iris purred, still smiling like a
gloating villainess (which she was), then tapped the right
vertical timber (the solid one) with the business end of the
crop. "Mother's Standard Vertical Rack is, indeed, an
actual rack." She gestured with the crop to the wheel on
the frame's left upright. "Would you like me to
Scotti blinked and shook her head vigorously, causing her
straight, ginger pageboy to sway from side to side.
"Are you sure?" Iris inquired. "I can probably tighten
this thing several clicks before Dear Sister passes
Scotti shook her head even more vigorously.
"No? You're not sure?" Iris purred.
"Don't!" Scotti managed to gasp/croak. She was sure.
She was very sure.
Iris shrugged. "Just as well. Mother would be very
cross with me if I actually tortured poor Amy, no matter how
much she deserves it. It would probably mean no desserts
for a week. Maybe even a month.
Anyway..." She strolled behind the rack... then delivered
what had to be a stinging slap to her big sister's
left butt-cheek with the crop. "Mother's rack is also an
excellent venue for whipping, flagellation, spanking, paddling,
and other fun activities, front and back."
Amy had flinched when the unexpected butt-stroke landed, but her
angry brown eyes remained fixed on Scotti. Meanwhile, Iris
was lightly dragging the little flap at the end of the crop up
and down Amy's back... from her butt... to her shoulders... down
to her butt again... then between her splayed legs to caress
both of her upper thighs! And while this was happening,
Amy neither squirmed nor complained. She just continued
glowering at Scotti.
I didn't do anything! Scotti silently pleaded. Really!
"This is the sort of context Mother wanted us to
explain," Iris continued, "vis-à-vis the Special
Catalog items and The Game."
Scotti had been busy telepathically convincing Amy that she was
a bona fide innocent bystander, so was slow to process Iris'
statement. But when she did, she shifted her focus to the
younger DuPont sister, as opposed to the naked, gagged,
stretched, and glowering older DuPont sister. "What?
Context? What context?"
Iris had strolled all the way around the rack and was now using
the crop to lightly trace the undersides of her big sister's
semi-flattened breasts. "Yes, context. Rope and
dungeon furnishings have their practical purposes, of course,
like restraining kidnapped heiresses or entertaining snoopy girl
detectives..." She used the crop to circle Amy's
bellybutton, then slid the tip up and down her flat abdomen,
between her black, curly, well-defined pubic thatch and the
bellybutton in question. "...or as means for a spoiled
princess to punish wayward maids in her daddy's dungeon."
She slid the paddle-shaped tip of the crop even lower, until it
rested squarely atop Amy's pubic bush. "But context also
includes an erotic component."
Erotic? Scotti opened her mouth... but nothing came
out. Somewhere between her brain and her vocal cords she'd
tripped a circuit breaker... metaphorically speaking.
"Do you know what a 'one-bar prison' is?" Iris inquired.
Scotti's green eyes popped even wider and her cheeks blushed
bright red. This was followed by a frantic bout of nodding
Scotti did know what a one-bar prison was. She'd
stumbled across the concept (so to speak) in the course of her
research. It was a vertical steel rod, embedded in the
floor or mounted on a platform, usually adjustable in height,
and with a vertically mounted phallus on the upper
end! A damsel was made to stand over the rod, and the
height was adjusted until the phallus impaled her
pussy! And once it was properly adjusted it would be
well-nigh impossible for her to lift herself off the insidious
thing! Add a little bondage and it was impossible.
Her only choice was... to stand there... in helpless
humiliation! Scotti continued nodding to the affirmative
Iris pointed to three holes drilled in the center of the upper
surface of the rack's base timber, directly under Amy's spread
legs. The outer holes were each about a half-inch in
diameter, but the center hole was more like an
inch-and-a-quarter. "A steel bracket supporting a vertical
steel rod goes there, screwed tight on either side.
Another Archer Metals product. The height is fully
adjustable, of course, and there are several attachments,
including a simple phallus, a mini-Sybian saddle, and a
wedge-shaped mini-horse, all with or without vibration."
Scotti stared at the three holes, her heart hammering.
Sweat was now dripping down both of her temples and
beaded on her forehead, and her green eyes remained wide, but at
least they were no longer blinking. This is... a lot.
"No means no," Iris quoted, "and context is everything
with respect to the when, where, and how of what happens before,
during, and after our fun-with-rope games, and with
respect to all aspects of Special Catalog product
testing. No means no. At every stage, no means no,
to any and everything. Understand?"
Scotti nodded again. It was all still a lot, but no
meaning no was a simple concept.
"This is a lot to process," Iris stated.
No, ya think? Scotti was still staring at the three
"Why don't you go back to the cottage and chill," Iris
suggested. "I think Mother's making Instant Pot Tuscan
beef stew for dinner. And take a shower. You look
like you need one."
Scotti nodded... then locked eyes with Amy, who was continuing
to glower. However, the naked, sweaty, spreadeagled,
collared, and ball-gagged damsel might also be
suppressing an expression of ball-gagged amusement. Scotti
wasn't sure. Anyway... the
totally-innocent-of-all-wrongdoing ginger slowly backpedaled to
the closed door, bumped into it, frantically turned and jerked
it open, then fled down the Storage Building corridor in a total
Scotti didn't stop until she reached the "safety" of The
Cottage. She took a shower, as Iris had suggested, but it
was more of a cool rinse, almost cold. She then
sat on the bed, set the clock app on her iPhone to wake her up
with plenty of time to get dressed for dinner, and (still naked
from the shower) crawled between the sheets and took a
nap. She decided to put off further thinking about things
like "context" until later, after she'd calmed down... or tried
Scotti took several slow, deep breaths to compose herself,
closed her eyes, drifted off to sleep... and dreamed.
indeed dream. The alarm went off, signaling time to
prepare for Tuscan beef stew, and she sat up in bed... but
couldn't remember a single detail of whatever had occupied her
subconscious during the nap. And she didn't feel all that
rested... and might need another shower. Mildly confused
and in something of a frazzle, Scotti did, indeed indulge
in another shower, but only a quick rinse. She then
dressed and hurried to the kitchen. She was just in time
to help Iris and Amy set the table out on the deck.
Sybil carried the Instant Pot out to the table, everyone took
their place, then Mother DuPont spooned steaming portions of
stew into the four plates and dinner began. There were
side-salads and thick slices of some sort of Artisan-style bread
to sop up the gravy, and everything was extremely yummy
and accompanied by red wine.
The DuPonts were one big happy family. Amy appeared to be
none the worse for wear and not particularly angry at
anybody—Iris was her usual friendly self (in a semi-Goth sort of
way)—and Sybil was tall, gorgeous, smiling, and maternal, as
usual. There was zero discussion of the events of
the afternoon, meaning how Iris had semi-tortured her naked big
sister in Storeroom #4.
As for Scotti, she certainly wasn't going to bring it up.
Was she nervous? Of course. "Context" had been added
to the game, expanding the bounds of the playing field in erotic
and possibly flagellatory directions! Was Scotti
prepared to discuss things like one-bar-prisons and multi-tail
floggers? Hell no! No might mean no, but
now it meant no to a lot more stuff! Later. Not
now. She'd talk about it with Iris tomorrow, while she
helped her in the garden... or possibly in a few days... or
several. She'd have to talk about it with Iris at some
point, but definitely not tonight.
Tuscan beef stew and salad were followed by diced fruit in Greek
yogurt... then cleanup... then Scotti wished everyone a good
night and retired to The Cottage. Once alone and ready for
bed, Scotti read a little. She was currently enjoying a
somewhat comedic High Fantasy novel with sorcerers, witches,
elves, and a human princess on the run from evil relatives and
having all sorts of entertaining encounters, adventures, and/or
exploits. It was harmless entertainment, valued mostly for
its clever dialogue and witty descriptions.
Anyway... Scotti read 'til her eyes started drooping and she was
finding it difficult to concentrate. She then turned off
the iPad, placed it on the bedside table, turned off the reading
lamp, snuggled against the pillow... and drifted off to sleep.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ z
z z z z z z ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Scotti the Hunter was in her element:
the Deep Wood!
And it wasn't a few acres of trees the farmers hadn't yet
gotten around to clearing, no siree! This was mile upon
mile of forest, mostly ancient oaks, but with other species
here and there. Overhead, the branches were twisted and
intertwined, forming a dense green canopy, while underfoot was
a carpet of dry leaves interrupted by scattered ferns,
mushrooms, and shade-loving wildflowers. There were
patches of sunny meadow here and there, formed when a
mature tree succumbed to a lightning strike or the winds of a
storm and came crashing down, finally allowing direct sunlight
to reach the rich forest soil. A few acorns or tree
seeds would sprout, grow, and compete for the privilege of
filling in the hole in the canopy left by the fallen
giant. But for the most part, Scotti could walk for
miles through the Deep Wood without the sun touching her
Yes, Scotti was in the Deep Wood, deep in the Deep
Wood and miles from the nearest farm or village.
Technically, she was still within the borders of Baron Miles'
fief and the forest was off limits to poachers, but Scotti had
the baron's medallion on a thong around her neck, tucked down
the front of her shirt and brown leather jerkin, her Badge of
Privilege to hunt on the baron's land. And it only cost
her one buck and one boar a year, delivered to the baron's
kitchen dressed and ready for the roasting-spit.
Of course, if the seneschal got wind of her abusing her office
by selling meat at market in any great quantity, she'd be in
trouble. But not to worry. Scotti only culled the
various herds of red deer and thinned out the families of wild
pigs on the forest borders, then traded the meat to farmers
for vegetables, fruit, and bread.
And by agreement with the baron and his seneschal, she
bartered mostly with the poorer farmers, making sure their
young ones got enough meat to grow into strapping yeomen and
healthy wives. Truth be told, Baron Miles was a kind and
just lord, but anyone who mistook his evenhanded rule for
weakness and tried to take advantage was in for a rude surprise.
Anyway, all understood that according to the Duke and the
Crown this was the fief of Sir Zaktor Miles, but everyone also
knew that he ruled at the sufferance of the land's true
owners. Close to the local farms, villages, and his
castle, the The Most Honorable Baron's word was law, but the
further one ventured into the Deep Wood, the more tenuous
claims of human sovereignty became. And in the very
depths of the wild, others exercised unquestioned
power. And the others in question were... the fey
folk! The Ljósálfar! The Trooping
Fairies! The Seelie Court! The elves!
Scotti was always respectful of the fey. She'd never
actually seen one, not even tracks, but when she came across a
"fairy circle," a round clearing in the forest, often with a
small fire pit in the exact center, she left it strictly
alone. She only stopped to briefly admire its unusually
vibrant wildflowers, then skirted the clearing and moved on.
Once, she was following the course of a small stream as it
meandered through the forest and found its origin to be a
wagon-size, moss covered boulder, cleaved in twain and with
crystal-clear water bubbling from the crack. It was
surrounded by a carpet of white lilies blooming later into the
season than was expected. The lilies followed the stream
for several yards... then dwindled out. Scotti was sure
it was a "Fey Fountain" and backed carefully away.
Everyone knew not to drink from a brook or stream where white
lilies grew along its banks. Scotti had no intention of
succumbing to elf or fairy magic and being transformed in
some unnatural manner.
Anyway, here Scotti was, deep in the Deep Wood,
dressed in knee-boots (suitable for climbing and that
protected her lower legs from brush), tights dyed stone-gray,
a brown leather jerkin, a long-sleeved, loose-fitting shirt of
Lincoln green, and brown leather bracers/bow-guards on her
wrists and forearms.
She was armed with her trusty hunting bow, a quiver of arrows,
a small ax, a large knife or short sword that was somewhat
like an old Saxon seax, a much smaller skinning knife,
and four even smaller throwing knives, one tucked down the top
of each legging and bracer. The bow, broadhead arrows,
and skinning knife were tools of her trade. As for the
rest, it wasn't that Scotti wasn't a trusting person,
but who knows what sort of outlaws and wolf's-heads one might
encounter in the depths of the forest.
Aside from weapons, the rest of Scotti's kit was some miles
away, hanging from a branch halfway up an oak she knew she
could easily relocate. It consisted of her haversack,
blanket, her cache of salt and dried herbs, rope, and other
miscellaneous odds and ends. Scotti traveled light, at
least while going into the woods. Going home,
if her hunt was successful she'd be burdened by a great weight
of dressed meat and folded hides, and she might have to make
several trips to and from a hanging cache to get it all back.
And speaking of the hunt... it was on! Scotti had an
arrow knocked at the ready and another held in her bow-hand
for a quick second shot. And she was on the prowl,
taking slow, careful, and above all quiet steps and
scanning the forest for a suitable buck. She'd found
fresh red deer spoor in the area, so she knew a herd was
somewhere in the vicinity.
Suddenly—Sproing!—a rope tightened around Scotti's
ankles, she was jerked several feet into the air, and
found herself hanging upside down! "Hey!" An
instant later, a lasso was expertly thrown up and over her
dangling body and jerked tight, pinning her left arm against
her torso! "No!" And almost simultaneously, a second
lasso arrived from the opposite direction and tightened
around both of her arms! Now dangling from her
ankles with her head about two feet off the forest floor and
pinned between two taut ropes that also pinned her arms to her
sides, Scotti was helpless! "Let me go!" she screamed.
The only answer she received was the arrival of the throwers
of the lassos, who quickly wrapped, cinched, and tightened
even more rope around her squirming body, and in the
process relieved her of her weapons... all of her
"Let. Me. Go!" And then, Scotti
realized the nature of her captors and her green eyes popped
wide in alarm. "Oh!"
Scotti was the prisoner of a pair of ELVES! Female elves!
She-elf warriors with fair, perfect skin, big brown eyes,
comely features, gleaming black hair, and ears that came to a
They were dressed in boots, tights, loose-fitting long-sleeve
shirts that might have been silk, and leather
armor. All of the leather was richly tooled in flowing
vines and leaves and stained in different natural
shades. Their tights and shirts were pieced together,
with each strip or patch of fabric dyed in a different
woodland color. Experienced hunter that she was, Scotti
could tell that unless she was staring right at them, they
would disappear into the forest as if they weren't even there!
"Let me go!" Scotti whined—"Mrrrf!"—but was rewarded by having
a wadded cloth stuffed in her mouth—"Mrrrk!"—and a second,
narrowly folded cloth tied as a tight cleave-gag to keep it in
place! Then, despite Scotti's enthusiastic resistance
and continued complaints—"Mrrrm!"—two things happened:
(1) One of the elves drew a small knife with a
razor-sharp, leaf-bladed blade and set about systematically
cutting, slicing, and destructively removing every item of
Scotti's clothing, cloth and leather, all the way up her
hanging body to the tops of her boots!
Both captors finished their tasks at about the same time, the
rope cinched around Scotti's booted ankles suddenly went
slack, and—"Mrrrrr!"—she fell to the ground! Her captors
lifted her to her feet and Scotti found herself naked, but for
her boots, socks and the ragged tops of her ruined tights, and
bound from her knees to her shoulders in an elaborate,
symmetrical web of thin rope! Her arms were folded
behind her back with her wrists crossed and lashed against her
spine. Her thumbs and hands were included in the hemp
lashings, and everything was tight and well-cinched.
Scotti knew she was not going to be able to free
herself. "Nrrrm!" And thanks to the gag she'd be
unable to plead her case for immediate release.
(2) And while this was happening, the other fey was retying
and enhancing Scotti's rope bonds! Her
efforts to resist this process were strenuous but totally
The elves were roughly Scotti's height and, now that she was
right-side-up and could finally get a good look at them, they
were, indeed, very beautiful... in an unusual sort
of way. Maybe it's the ears, Scotti mused.
Also the eyes. And somehow, they were
familiar. One had short black hair in a very attractive
tousle [Iris!] and the other had long hair, nearly hanging to
her narrow waist [Amy!]. They were smiling (gloating) at
her, and Scotti was staring back. No... I don't know
them, Scotti decided. How could I?
"Mother will be so pleased," the short-haired elf
"She will," the long-haired elf agreed, then looped a lasso
around Scotti's neck like a leash and led her away.
Bound at the knees, Scotti's steps were shortened, but she
managed to keep up. She looked back over her shoulder to
find the short-haired elf gathering her bow, quiver, arrows,
and all her various blades, then following. Scotti's
ruined clothing remained behind.
Naked, bound in fey rope, gagged, and tethered, Scotti was led
through the vast expanse of ancient oaks. Apparently,
she was on her way to meet her captors' family.
The journey lasted for the remainder of the day. Scotti
didn't bother to struggle against the she-elves' ropes.
It was pointless, and they were right there, one in front with
her hand clutching Scotti's lead, and the other behind, no
doubt staring at her white butt as she awkwardly picked her
way through the debris on the forest floor. Thankfully,
it was easy going as they were following a faint game trail...
which joined a more traveled game trail... and then another
that was nearly an actual path. The forest gloom
deepened as the unseen sun approached the unseen horizon...
and then they entered a large clearing... a very remarkable
Normally, when captured by comely female elves, stripped
naked, inescapably bound, gagged, and led through the Deep
Wood on the end of a leash, garden or landscape design would
be very low in the order of Scotti's priorities, but her
surroundings were amazing, in an entirely natural sort
of way. The clearing was circular, or possibly
egg-shaped, and the surrounding oaks were all unusually tall
and truly ancient, with vast spreads and some of the widest
trunks Scotti had ever seen. Their gnarled, twisted
branches were festooned with flowering vines and the clearing
floor was a carpet of thick green moss, vibrant and thick like
none Scotti had ever seen before. However, in the very
center, where direct sunlight would fall, there was a
profusion of wildflowers, all buzzing with bees.
And at the far end of the clearing was what Scotti could only
call a great throne. It was made up of a substantial
pile of twisted oak branches and deer and elk antlers, all
tangled, intertwined, and overgrown with flowering
vines. Its seat and back were cushioned by piles of
animal skins, mostly bear, elk, and bison. And sitting
on the throne was another she-elf. Even from across the
clearing Scotti could see that she was tall, slender, and
shapely, with long straight black hair, and she was very beautiful!
An inexplicable thrill shivered its way between
Scotti's legs and up her spine at the very sight of her.
[Sybil!] And as they drew closer, it became very easy
for Scotti to believe the regal reclined figure was the
"Mother" her short-haired captor had mentioned. All
three elves looked somewhat similar and could easily be
family. Of course, this was only the third elf Scotti
had ever seen, so for all she knew all elves look
alike (like Vikings).
"I see your hunt was successful," the occupant of the throne
purred. She was clothed in a diaphanous gown of pale,
silvery, gauzy silk that did little to conceal her body...
meaning all of her body and all of her... attributes.
"Yes, Mother," Scotti's long-haired captor responded. "Very
"Bring her here," the mother-elf ordered.
Scotti was dragged forward... then gently but inexorably
shoved her down onto the throne. The throne's seat was
actually more of a bed than a butt support, and "Mother's"
back was comfortably reclined against the throne's cushioning
furs with her legs folded and tucked to the side. So,
when Scotti landed on the throne's expansive seat, she found
herself lying half on her side with her head and shoulders
cushioned by "Mother's" lap! She blinked her green eyes
and stared up into the tall elf's beautiful, smiling face.
"Will she do?" the short-haired captor-elf inquired. "Do
you think the Fox King will find her suitable as his human
Scotti's eyes started blinking and she forced an urgent
inquiry past her gag. "Mrrrk?" Fox King?
The mother-elf combed her fingers through Scotti's short,
straight hair. "Red hair, strong body, comely features,
pretty green eyes..." She cupped Scotti's left breast
and gave it a firm but gentle squeeze. "I have no doubt
she'll give him many litters of healthy cubs."
Both of Scotti's nipples had popped rigid in response to the
mother-elf's touch, and now they were tingling.
Also, the thrill between her legs was back (and she found she
didn't want it to go away). However... Did she
say litters of cubs?
"She quickens easily," the mother-elf purred.
"Shall we test her?" the long-haired-daughter-elf suggested.
"Oh! Yes! I want to too!" said the
short-haired-daughter-elf. "I'll tickle her feet to
"I'll spark her quim," the long-haired-daughter-elf
"Very well, my daughters," the mother-elf," chuckled, "but
slowly and gently. We'll make it a good long test."
"Mrrrk!" Scotti objected, but her opinion was ignored.
The short-haired-daughter-elf was busy removing Scotti's
boots, socks, and the remnants of her ruined tights, then
binding her ankles together and firmly anchoring them
to the side of throne. Meanwhile, the
long-haired-elf-daughter had found a way to lash Scotti's
already bound knees firmly in place by stretching ropes
between the base and back of the tangle of branches and
antlers. Scotti's legs were now more-or-less immobile
and her head and shoulders still resting on the mother-elf's
Scotti was cushioned by what she recognized as a very large
bear skin and (ignoring the ropes) was unarguably comfortable,
but she was also quite agitated, to say the
least. She tried to squirm and twist her body, but with
little success. The tangled mass of the throne's
branches and antlers anchoring her ankle and knee bonds didn't
even creak! They might as well be one solid mass, rather
than the haphazard pile she had taken them to be. Also,
Scotti's noted her struggles seemed to amuse her fey captors
while doing nothing to help her regain her freedom.
"Don't worry, my ginger treasure," the mother-elf cooed as her
daughters tied the final knots and completed their work.
"The Fox King is very handsome, both as fox and
human. Shape-shifters have to mate with mundane humans
in alternate generations. Otherwise, the fox nature of
the line becomes dominant and changing form becomes more and
"Mrrrf!" Scotti objected. She didn't want to be the Fox
King's Queen and mother his cubs! No matter how handsome
he might be! Also—"MRRRK!"—the short-haired-daughter was
now tickling her bare feet, while the
long-haired-daughter was sliding her hand between Scotti's
thighs and caressing her lady bits and running her
fingers through Scotti's red, bushy nether-hair! And
blue and green sparks were flashing from their fingers and stinging
her flesh! Well... maybe "stinging" wasn't exactly
what was happening. The sparkling elfish fingers felt
good... very good... too good! The
foot-sparklers were somewhat distracting, but the
between-the-legs-sparklers more than compensated. It
"Slowly, my daughters," the mother-elf whispered, continuing
to smile and comb her long, strong, white fingers through
Scotti's bangs. Then, she began squeezing both of
Scotti's breasts and teasing her nipples, and like her
daughters, the smiling mother-elf's fingers were now tingling
with blue-green fire!
Scotti squirmed, shivered, and struggled to breath through her
tight, mouth-filling gag! Her freckled skin shone with
sweat, her green eyes wide and desperate, and her heart was
pounding like a smithy's hammer! The teasing of the
sliding elf-fingers, with their blue-green sparks, went on and
on and on... until night had fallen and the clearing was lit
only by countless hovering fireflies and the stars.
And finally, inevitably, after what felt like hours,
Scotti's entire body went rigid, her eyes clinched tightly
closed, she whined through her gag—"Eeeee!"—and
experienced a crashing orgasm that went on and on and
point, Scotti sat bolt upright in bed, her green eyes wide in
the near total darkness of The Cottage. What the hell?
skin was flushed and gleaming with sweat, her heart beating
rapidly, her chest (and boobs) heaving as she panted for breath,
her nipples pointing, and her pussy wet and tingling!
The dream—the wet dream—was over.
| Chapter 6