consideration, Hermione decided that travel by means of an
undulating carpet of a hundred or more scampering squirrels was
not to be recommended, especially while one was naked,
bound, and gagged. For one thing, it was precarious, and
would be more so if not for the plethora of tiny squirrel hands
rudely clutching various parts of her anatomy. For
another, it was a rather bumpy and jarring ride, especially when
the squirrels were required to climb over a fallen tree or
boulder or negotiate some other obstacle as they made their way
through the dark forest.
Now and then as she bounced along Hermione tested her bonds,
more out of a sense of duty than with any real hope of regaining
her freedom. Back in Nimue's cottage, her furry kidnappers
had trussed her up from ankles to shoulders, using the
tieback-cords that should be holding back the curtains and
drapes of her guest bedroom's window, and despite Hermione's
best efforts, the knots securing the snug cords were holding
quite well. Thus far, the squirrels' handiwork was proving
to be quite inescapable. And as for the strips of
torn bed sheet stuffed in her mouth and cleaving said mouth, the
improvised gag was quite effective in reducing her attempted
complaints and protests to totally unintelligible moans, whines,
whimpers, and the occasional well-muffled squeal.
The distressing and annoying journey continued for some
time. Shadows deepened as the moon set and the squirrels
continued their journey without pause. Finally, Hermione
was carried over yet another mossy, fallen tree and deposited on
a soft carpet of green moss—but before she could lift her gagged
head and look around—once again she was swarmed by the
The bushy-tailed little monsters untied Hermione while
simultaneously re-tying her! She was never
completely free during the entire process. When the
proverbial dust settled and the furry horde scampered back to
gaze at their handiwork, Hermione was stringently spreadeagled
on her back with each of her wrists and ankles wrapped in more
than a dozen loops of tieback-cord. She was in the center
of a small clearing bordered by the trunks of four trees that
happened to have fallen (or had been arranged) in the shape of a
diamond. Her wrist and ankle bonds stretched in four
directions and were looped and knotted around the stubs of stout
branches protruding from the middle of each of the mossy logs.
Hermione tugged and kicked but found that each of her limbs had
been afforded severely limited slack. The cords were easily
strong enough to resist her efforts and the lashing points
on the logs were proving to be quite solid.
Her squirrel kidnappers were now lined up side by side on all
four logs and gazing (leering) at their struggling prize, just
as they had back in Nimue's cottage after binding and gagging
her on the guestroom bed.
As well as being naked, bound, gagged, and feeling totally vulnerable,
Hermione was decidedly confused. Squirrels are not
carnivorous, and Hermione was most assuredly not a
giant nut, nor could she have reasonably been mistaken for
one. So... what in Merlin's name was going on?
"Thank you, my friends."
Hermione flinched at the sound of the unknown speaker's
melodious, soprano voice. She lifted her gagged head and
watched as two diminutive strangers entered the clearing.
Both were unmistakably female in dress and figure, but were only
about three feet in height and were strikingly beautiful.
Elves! Hermione realized, blinking and staring at the
decidedly petite newcomers as they walked a slow circle around
her naked, spreadeagled form. They stopped with one on her
left and the other on her right.
The elf on the right was wearing a blouse, knee-length dress,
and matching tights, all in forest-green, as well as
medium-brown leather boots, belt, and wrist-bracers. Her
hair was long, straight, and red. Most of it fell down her
back, but a pair of long strands framed her beautiful
face. Her pointed ears were clearly visible, and clearly,
Hermione decided, she was a wood elf.
The second elf, on Hermione's left, was dressed in a long,
flowing gown with drooping sleeves, similar in style to the
"witch's gown" Nimue had been wearing before Hermione's bedroom
incarceration and subsequent squirrel abduction; however, rather
than being black velvet, the elf's gown was satin or silk in a gorgeous
shade of dusky rose-pink. Her long hair was arranged
in a similar manner as her companion, but was pale blond, rather
than red. Maybe she's a wood elf, Hermione
posited. She's not dressed like the other...
but I'm certainly no expert on wood elf culture.
Both elves (and clearly, they were elves) had stunningly
beautiful features... and as Hermione turned her gagged head
to examine each visitor in turn, she realized that except for
their hair colors and choices of attire, they were more or less
identical. Sisters, Hermione posited, and
The blond and redhead were smiling, or more precisely, their
expressions signaled amusement and were not openly
hostile. Spreadeagled, naked, and gagged, Hermione
considered how to assert the dignity and gravitas expected of a
representative of the Ministry of Magic... but it was hopeless.
Hermione tugged on her bonds one last time, then relaxed and
heaved a gagged sigh.
The red-haired elf briefly directed her gaze to the hundred or
so furry little kidnappers still lined up on the mossy logs and
leering at Hermione... then returned her attention to Hermione
(but she didn't appear to be openly leering, which
Hermione appreciated). The redhead then made a broad,
graceful, sweeping gesture with her right hand. "With the
gratitude of the wood elves and the promise of future reward,"
she stated, "I release you."
The squirrels turned as one, leaped from the logs, and scampered
into the forest in all directions. In a matter of seconds
it was as if they had never been present.
The elves were still smiling down at Hermione. The
redhead's arms were crossed under her breasts and the blonde's
were at her sides.
"She is beautiful," the redhead purred, "for a human."
"For a human," the blonde agreed.
Hermione noted that the elves—who apparently were wood
elves and had commissioned the squirrels to kidnap her—spoke
with the same voice, melodious and pleasing to the ear (even
when the listener was naked, bound, and gagged). More
evidence that they're closely related, Hermione decided.
"I am Conwena," the blonde said, placing her right palm on her
"And I am Rowena," the redhead stated, repeating the same
Conwena made a complicated gesture with both hands, waving her
fingers in a graceful and elegant manner. Hermione
realized she had yet to see a wood elf do anything that wasn't
graceful. Conwena and Rowena, she thought. Such
pretty names. "Mrrr-Ahh!"
While Hermione had been contemplating the elves' names, her
cleave gag had untied itself and flown from her mouth to
Conwena's hand. It was closely followed by the wad of
cloth that erupted from Hermione's mouth, un-wadded itself, and
also flew to Conwena.
Conwena held both strips of white cotton linen between the tips
of her right thumb and index finger, then gave a whispered
Hermione watched with respect for the elf's mastery of magic as
the two strips of cloth folded together into what Hermione could
only call a pair of origami birds, fluttered away... and were
gone. She knew that all of the known varieties of elves
have intrinsic magic. House elves use their talents
constantly to accomplish their assigned housekeeping
tasks. However, most magical scholars (meaning human magical
scholars) agreed that there are actual sorcerers among certain
groups of elves, individuals who study the principles and
practice of magic as a profession or avocation. Hermione
strongly suspected she might be staring at an actual wood elf
Conwena and Rowena waited patiently while Hermione worked her
jaw and licked her lips.
"Ahem. Excuse me." Hermione swallowed, again, then
affected what she hoped was a friendly smile. "I'm very
pleased to meet you both. My name is Hermione
Granger. On behalf of the Ministry of Magic—"
"Yes, yes," Rowena interrupted with a dismissive gesture.
"Let's not bring human politics into the Green Wood, shall
we?" Her smile broadened. "Welcome be, Hermione."
"Welcome be," Conwena agreed.
"Uh, thank you," Hermione replied, then tugged on her wrist
bonds, kicked her bound legs as best she could, and looked from
Rowena to Conwena with what she hoped was an encouraging smile.
Instead of untying Hermione, Rowena knelt behind her head and
outspread arms, scooted forward, gently lifted Hermione's head
and shoulders—"Oh!"—and settled them on her
tights-clad thighs. She then began combing Hermione's
brown, tousled, wavy hair with her diminutive fingers.
Hermione gazed up into Rowena's beautiful, smiling face.
"You're not going to untie me?" she inquired in a quiet
voice. She has the most incredible green eyes,
Hermione sighed. She couldn't help but notice.
Rowena's equally incredible smile widened, and she touched her
right index to Hermione's lips. "Hush, pretty witch," she
Meanwhile, Conwena had knelt at Hermione's left side and
produced (or conjured) a clear, naturally shaped crystal
dangling from a gold chain. The blond elf's eyes focused
on the crystal and it began to glow. She then positioned
the crystal and chain until the tiny yellow-white star was
hovering less than an inch above Hermione's tummy, between her
navel and neatly trimmed pubic bush.
Hermione frowned and squinted at the glowing crystal.
"What are you... Oh! Oh! S-stop!
"Hush, Hermione," Rowena chuckled. Her right hand was
tightly clamped over Hermione's mouth.
Oh by the way, some sort of tickling, teasing sensation
was pulsing through Hermione's nether region, especially her
lady bits! "Mrrrf!"
"Even in the Green Wood," Rowena said, "we've heard about your
efforts to improve the condition of our very, very distant
cousins, the 'house elves' who choose to dwell in the human
Hermione's eyes were wide above Rowena's hand gag, and she was
continuously squirming, tugging, kicking, and fighting her wrist
and ankle bonds. "Nrrrrr!" The glow from the crystal
continued sending waves of unwelcome stimulation through her
most intimate anatomy! It was... horrible... (meaning
wonderful)! If this keeps up! Hermione realized, I'm
g-going to... to... "MRRRRR!"
Hermione's body went rigid and remained so as wave after wave of
orgasmic delight coursed through her body. It went on and
on—she had no idea exactly how long—and then it was
over. Totally spent, Hermione collapsed in her bonds and
gasped for breath. Her breasts (and pointing nipples)
heaved as she panted, and her entire body glistened with
sweat. At some point Rowena's hand had left her mouth, but
all Hermione could do was breathe as deeply as possible.
Speech would have to wait.
"Well?" Rowena said, smiling at her fellow elf.
Conwena made a gesture and the crystal stopped glowing, its
chain unclasped itself, the necklace drifted through the air
towards the elven sorceress, and somehow arranged itself around
her neck and under her long blond hair. She dropped the
crystal down the front of her gown and it disappeared between
her breasts. "Hermione Jean Granger has done many good
works on behalf of all the fey races of her realm, and shall do
more—much, much more. Also..." Conwena
closed her blue eyes in concentration.
"Yes?" Rowena prompted.
"She is soulmate to a... 'Weasley.' A Ronald Weasley."
Now Rowena frowned. "Weasley? Are you sure? A
branch of the Ó hÉalaighthe clan?"
Conwena waved a hand in negation. "Perhaps. It's
been so long since any of us cared about the goings on in the
human realm, who knows? Anyway," She shifted her
smile to Hermione's still panting, sweaty, and wide-eyed
face. "Their children shall be strong, beautiful,
intelligent, fair of face, and with normal hair."
"By which you mean red hair, of course," Rowena
chuckled, smiling and lifting a strand of her long, ginger
"Yes," Conwena nodded. She then placed the palm of her
right hand flat on Hermione's stomach, atop her navel.
"You are truly welcome in the Green Wood, Hermione Granger, now
and forever. I name you Elf Friend, and speak not from
politeness, but on behalf of the wood elves and all of our
allies. We shall speak to all Fey of the Light and they
shall know your worth. You may visit at will, and we shall
provide council and guides to take you wherever you wish to go."
"T-thank you," Hermione gasped. It felt strange to be
thanking an elven sorceress who had just taken such intimate
(and glorious) liberties with her naked, helpless body,
but Hermione was afflicted with reflexive courtesy. "On
behalf of the Ministry of Ma-rrrf!" Rowena's hand was back
over her mouth.
Conwena's smile never wavered. "Not your Ministry,
pretty witch. You, Hermione Jean Granger. You
Hermione nodded, as best she could... and Rowena released her
hand-gag. "Was that a scrying?" she asked Conwena.
"Did you just make a prophecy?"
Conwena nodded. "Forgive me. I was curious.
And remember, the future is like a river, and rivers have been
known to change their banks. Only the past is fixed... most
of the time, anyway."
Hermione nodded again. As for a possible future with Ron,
especially one that included children, for the last few years
that had become something that she thought of as being probable,
meaning highly probable, if not inevitable.
"Now," Rowena purred, "you have learned all that we wish for you
to learn. It is time for you to return."
Hermione blinked in surprise. "I... I'm afraid you'll have
to show me the way."
Rowena's smile broadened. "Goodbye, Hermione Granger," she
"Goodbye, Hermione Granger," Conwena also purred, then leaned
forward, kissed Hermione's navel with her pursed lips, and—
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ zzzzzzz ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Hermione opened her
eyes... blinked... and sat up. She was back in her guest
bedroom in Nimue's cottage, and from the dim glow shining
through the window, dawn was approaching. She was naked,
of course. She'd been naked when she went to bed, so, of
course, she was naked now. She lifted the top sheet until
it cover her breasts, and continued looking around the
The tieback-cords where where they should be, holding back the
curtains and drapes. Also, the top sheet appeared to be
entirely intact with no torn and missing strips. She
examined her wrists and found no ligature marks, not even faint
It was a dream. How decidedly strange.
It also wasn't quite time to get up. Hermione heaved a
deep sigh... then lay back down, rolled away from the window and
onto her side... and frowned. There was something small
and hard with her in the bed. She sat back up, groped
until she located the offending object, and held up... An
acorn? What is an acorn doing in my bed?
Hermione gazed at the acorn with a puzzled frown, then set it on
the nightstand and snuggled back into the covers. Curioser
|An Entanglement of Witches
| Chapter 5
Perhaps an hour.
Hermione may have dozed off again.
She remained in the bed in the guestroom/prison cell to which
she'd been assigned as her hostess/jailer, the ancient,
supremely powerful, and beautiful witch, Nimue. The same
bed from which she'd been abducted by squirrels and spirited
away deep into the Green Wood for a tête-à-tête with a
pair of wood elves... in a dream.
The sun had fully risen and Hermione felt it was past due time
for her to be rising as well, but there wasn't much point unless
and until the sealed door of the wardrobe incarcerating her
clothes and the sealed door incarcerating Hermione
herself unsealed themselves. And thanks to the early
morning light streaming through the closed and presumably still
locked window, it was clear that neither event had happened.
And then they had. That is, the wardroom door was no
longer fused to the rest of the wardrobe. And almost
immediately, the bedroom door had followed suit, meaning it was
no longer fused to the bedroom wall. By all appearances,
both doors were once again... doors.
Hermione climbed from the bed, stretched, and padded to the
wardrobe. It opened as she approached, entirely on its
"I suppose you're trying to make up for being so very rude and
uncooperative yesterday," Hermione muttered. "Very well, I
forgive you." The wardrobe ignored both her rebuke and
her magnanimous grant of amnesty. The naked witch
frowned at the wardrobe's contents. The two black velvet
"witch's gowns," the pair of black boots, and her reticule were
still present, but she distinctly remembered cubbyholes holding
neatly folded pairs of black stockings being off to one side,
and now they were gone. Either they'd vanished or were
hidden behind a featureless wooden panel.
Hermione reached for her reticule—but its drawstring remained
wrapped and firmly knotted around the wardrobe's horizontal
hanger-bar and it was actively leaning away from her hand and
"Stop this nonsense immediately," Hermione huffed.
"I require a change of underwear... and my wand.
Her reticule—the larger-on-the-inside-than-the-outside hand
purse holding her entire traveling wardrobe, toiletries, reading
matter, and the work materials she'd taken from the Ministry, as
well as her wand—remained uncooperative. It continued
dodging her attempts to grab it, and when she finally succeeded
in taking a firm grasp, it began prodding and poking her
palm. It wasn't painful, but the sensation was decidedly
"How rude!" Hermione gasped as she released the
reticle. "We'll discuss this later," she promised what was
supposedly her property with a stern wag of the finger.
Hermione directed her more-disappointed-than-angry gaze to the
two black velvet gowns hanging from their hangers. One was
a medieval-style full-length dress with a generous décolletage
and long, drooping sleeves. The other was somewhat
more... revealing. She reached for the "conventional"
gown—"Hey!"—but it also proved uncooperative, sliding away on
its hanger and evading her hand. Obviously, it didn't want
to be chosen.
"Oh, rubbish!" Hermione huffed. Rather than
continuing to grab for the elusive gown, she reached for the
alternative, not because she'd changed her mind, but as an
experiment. The second gown and its hanger allowed
themselves to be taken from the wardrobe without
resistance. Clearly, unless she wanted to go to breakfast
in the all-together, the second gown was what she'd be wearing.
Hermione dressed herself without difficulty. In fact, the
gown actively helped. As soon as she gathered the bottom
hem of the gown, dropped it over her head, and slid her arms
into the sleeves—"Oh my! Oh!"—the abbreviated row
of buttons in the back (what there were of them) buttoned
themselves and the pair of thin, crisscross laces of black satin
ribbon on either side tightened and tied themselves in neat
bows. And then—"Eeep!"—the entire gown tightened itself
The bodice squeezing her waist had been most of the reason for
Hermione's squeal, but it wasn't all. The back of one of
the open panels of the wardrobe door had suddenly become a
full-length mirror and she was suddenly staring at
herself. It had been startling... and her appearance was
Hermione had already noted the gown's generous cutouts for her
shoulders and upper arms as well as its plunging neckline,
but... "This is ridiculous," she muttered under
her breath. The gown's shoulder straps were narrow, nearly
to the point of being spaghetti-straps, and she could have
sworn they were much broader when the thing was hanging
on its hanger. Also, the sleeves had tightened around her
upper arms, just above her elbows, and were now constricted into
a pair of broad cuffs that mimicked the gown's bodice with
crisscross laces tied with neat bows. Also, the drooping
sleeves were ridiculously long. They continued
past her fingertips for several inches, covering her hands
And as for the décolletage, the inner slopes of her
breasts were fully exposed, almost to her nipples! And the
neckline plunged past her navel, stopping just short of exposing
the top curls of her modestly trimmed pubic bush! The
front of her tummy was semi-exposed, "covered" only by the
bodice's thin laces, which had somehow arranged themselves in a
complicated cats-cradle that framed and exposed her navel!
The gown was immodest, borderline indecent, and downright scandalous!
And magic was the only explanation for how it managed to
preserve "decent" coverage of her nipples and the rest of her
upper anatomy. No muggle gown of similar cut would have
allowed her to so much as lift an arm without exposing her....
something... somewhere. There were even generous cutouts
over her hips!
Hermione blushed. "I look like... like... an exotic
dancer, a parody of a sexy witch!" she
complained to the bedroom in general. She turned and
looked back over her right shoulder in the mirror. Just as
she'd feared, her back was very nearly completely exposed, and
somehow the drape of the gown's skirt was accentuating her
butt! At least there are no cutouts to showoff my
butt-cheeks, she silently fumed. She dared not make
that particular observation aloud, not even in a whisper, for
fear the gown would take it as a suggestion.
"I refuse to wear this thing!" she pouted. "I
look like... like... some kind of tart!" She took a
step away from the wardrobe and fumbled with the bows of the
overly complicated bodice, then—"Eeep!—squealed in alarm when
the bodice tightened again! Simultaneously, the wardrobe
doors slammed together and fused to the rest of the
wardrobe, as they had before.
"Alright! Alright! I'll wear you!" Hermione gasped,
and the bodice loosened itself immediately. This was
something for which Hermione was quite grateful (mainly
because she enjoyed breathing). "What about the boots?"
she inquired, but the wardrobe doors remained sealed.
Hermione turned to the bedroom door and found it was now ajar,
open by about three inches.
"I can't go out looking like this," she complained,
stamping her bare right foot. "I simply can't!"
Her only answer was another creak as the door opened an
additional three inches.
"Oh, very well," Hermione muttered, gathered her black velvet
skirts, and stomped (padded) from the bedroom. She jerked
the door the rest of the way open, but turned back to scowl
at the comfortable bed that had allowed her to be abducted
by squirrels (in her dream), the window that had refused to open
for her but had opened to admit her furry kidnappers
(in her dream), and the uncooperative wardrobe and its
uncooperative contents. "I'm reporting this entire bedroom
to the Ministry!" she warned, then crossed the threshold and
slammed the door behind her—and found herself staring at
a very amused Sabrina Spellman.
The American youngster was dressed in a black velvet gown that
appeared to be identical to Hermione's in every way—including
being immodest, borderline indecent, and outright scandalous.
"I take it your Ministry of Magic has 'Decorating Police' to
keep unruly domestic furnishings in line?" Sabrina chuckled.
"Never mind," Hermione mumbled, her blush deepening. She
was framing some sort of apology for her—for their—appearance,
when she was preempted by Sabrina giggling and turning 360° in a
whirl of black velvet.
"Aren't these outfits great?" Sabrina gushed.
"They're ridiculous!" Hermione muttered.
"Well... yeah," Sabrina agreed, "but aren't they great?"
Bloody Yank! Hermione fumed. Maybe her thoughts
were impolite, but... The very idea! "I
think they're horrible," Hermione answered in an
Sabrina seemed genuinely surprised. "Really?" She
smiled and gave a little shrug (for which her gown magically
compensated to prevent her breasts from popping out). She
then flipped her right hand free of her long, drooping sleeve,
groped thorough Hermione's left sleeve until she located and
grasped Hermione's left hand, then led the way down the hallway.
"Let's find the kitchen," Sabrina suggested (ordered).
"I'm hungry enough to eat a horse."
Hermione rolled her eyes as they padded along. "Very
well," she sighed. "I'll settle for bacon and eggs."
|An Entanglement of Witches
| Chapter 5
at about the time Hermione and Sabrina were leaving their
beds and getting dressed...
"Wake up!" Nimue's voice
commanded. "When did you become such a slugabed?"
Cassie opened her left eye... followed by her right eye... then
blinked them both several times.
It was morning. Cassie was still in her hostess'
thaumaturgical/alchemical laboratory and light was streaming
through the windows at a low angle. Also, she was still
naked; however, she was no longer tightly and elaborately bound
from shoulders to toes and gagged with her own panties and a
cleave-gag of more rope, nor was she lashed to the daybed in
front of the laboratory windows. She was comfortably
reclined on her side on the daybed with a cozy blanket pulled up
to her chin—a blanket she now realized was made of loosely woven
hemp rope. Such a "blanket" should have been anything but
cozy, but this one was. Obviously, Nimue had yet to reveal
the limits of her rope magic.
Cassie threw back the net-like blanket, sat up, swung her legs
off the bed, planted her bare feet on the floor... then stood,
yawned, and executed a full-body, back-arching stretch, reaching
for the cottage rafters overhead. She then smiled at her
hostess. "Good morning, My Lady."
"Good morning, wayward apprentice," Nimue purred, her coral lips
curled in an appreciative smirk and her sparkling green eyes
focused on Cassie's body, especially her breasts. The Lady
was dressed in what was almost certainly the same black velvet
"witch's gown" as yesterday—and why not? Cassie knew that
every item in Nimue's wardrobe was self-cleaning and
self-repairing. (The same was true of Cassie's wardrobe
as well, of course, but all her things had been
confiscated). Nimue's glorious red curls framed her gorgeous
face and formed an orderly riot about her shoulders.
Something like two-fifths of her lightly freckled breasts were
visible, revealed by the plunging neckline of her gown, the same
"At some point you are going to show me to a guest
bedroom?" Cassie suggested, "aren't you?"
"At some point," Nimue conceded, "but not right now. Right
now, I need to dress you for breakfast." She planted a
quick kiss on Cassie's smiling lips, then took a couple of steps
back, raised both hands, and made an arcane gesture.
Cassie heaved a tolerant sigh.
The rope blanket lifted off the bed, unraveled itself into a
swirling tornado of ever-lengthening loops and strands, and pounced
When the proverbial dust settled, Cassie was up on tiptoe with
her arms over her head and her wrists lashed together, her hands
and fingers encased in rope-mittens, and with several vertical
strands linking her bonds to the rafters. This only
accounted for a fraction of the many linear feet of hemp that
had comprised the former blanket, but as always, Nimue's rope
was as long or as short as it needed to be.
Cassie continued smiling. "My Lady," she purred, "you know
I don't mind your playing with my body like I'm your favorite
rag doll, but we must think of the girls."
Nimue stepped forward, cupped Cassie's breasts in both hands,
and gently squeezed. "What are you prattling about?"
"Hermione Granger and Sabrina Spellman are quite young," Cassie
stated (doing her best to ignore Nimue's hands). "And I'm
sure neither of them have given much, if any, thought to what
it's like to live for more than a thousand years and watch a
hundred or more generations of humanity come and go."
Nimue rolled her eyes. "The so called 'Mayfly Problem' you
droned on about during your last visit. Or was it the
"Actually, it was two visits before," Cassie
purred. "Anyway, I know you don't think of us
mundanes as short-lived insects, here today and gone tomorrow,
but it's only natural that you should exhibit some impatience
with our lack of experience and to simply ignore our wants and
needs, but this is too much. You need to start treating
the girls like normal guests, which, unfortunately, means you
need to start treating me like a normal guest."
"But you all have such an irritating tendency to repeat the same
mistakes, over and over, and exhibit the same depressing
naiveté." She continued kneading Cassie's breasts and
toying with her now erect nipples. "And don't call
yourself 'mundane' in my presence, young witch.
Remind me, Cassandra, was a Tudor or a Stuart on the throne of
England the year you were born?"
Cassie shivered as Nimue's massage continued.
"Unimportant. Also, our little secret. What is important,
however, is that Hermione and Sabrina don't know you the way I
know you, and have no reason to be understanding or
forgiving. You need to start treating them with courtesy
and not lock them away simply because you want to play
"I suppose you're right," Nimue sighed, then dropped her hands
and strolled to a nearby worktable. "I'll try."
"That's all I ask," Cassie purred, then tugged on her
inescapably bound wrists and hands. Unfortunately, Nimue
didn't take the hint. Cassie heaved a sigh and stopped
At the worktable, Nimue had made an arcane gesture above an
elaborately carved wooden casket roughly the size of a hatbox...
and was now lifting its lid.
Cassie watched (with mild
apprehension) as Nimue reached inside the casket and produced...
a golden object. It took a second or two, but Cassie
eventually recognized the object for what it was, then heaved a
resigned sigh. The object was a golden chastity belt!
"Where did you get that thing?" Cassie muttered.
"A gift from the King Under the Mountain," Nimue purred as she
carried the belt towards her guest. "Isn't it
beautiful? Gold and adamantium alloy. The craftsmen
wanted to titivate it with runes and elaborate carvings—you know
how dwarves can be—but I asked them to keep it simple.
'Less is more,' as the saying goes."
"I see that it has your name engraved on the front," Cassie
observed. "Untie me and I'll help you slip it on."
"Silly apprentice," Nimue chuckled. "It says 'Nimue' so
everyone will know the wearer is Nimue's property."
She opened the belt, fit it around Cassie's waist, lifted the
dangling crotch-plate, deftly secured the fittings, and clicked
the belt's owl-shaped padlock closed.
Cassie gasped as both the belt and the adamantium cables holding
the crotch-plate tightened against her labia. "It's cold,"
"Oh, I'm sure your hot little quim will warm it up in no time,"
Nimue chuckled. She resumed gently playing with Cassie's
breasts and nipples. "Did you notice the perforated
adamantium panel in the crotch-plate?" she inquired. "Pure
adamantium holds a magical charge much better than
the alloy. Allow me to demonstrate." She took a step
back and made a slow, graceful gesture with her right hand.
Cassie squeezed her eyes tightly closed, gasped, tugged on her
bound wrists, and danced on her toes. "Ahhh!" Wave
upon wave of titillating, erotic, magical energy were pulsing
through her crotch! "Nimue... please!" she
begged. "N-not before b-breakfast!"
"Do you really think I've forgotten about the way you
treated me last night in your dream?" Nimue inquired, continuing
to slowly twist her hand. "Do you really think you
can strip me naked, bind me to a chair, and invite the local
bees to sup honey from my breasts and nipples without
"P-please!" Cassie gasped. "It was a harmless dream.
Ahhhhhh!" She shivered, fought her bonds, and
writhed in the ecstacy what was obviously a full-blown orgasm.
"Oh, that's true," Nimue purred. She dropped her
hand. "Very well."
Sweat beaded on her forehead and chest, Cassie hung in her
bonds, panting and gasping for air. Then, her wrist-bonds
melted away and she came down off her toes. She rubbed her
wrists and glared (meaning smiled) at her hostess.
The gold-adamantium-alloy belt remained locked around her loins,
"Get dressed," Nimue ordered, and made another gesture.
"And what, exactly, am I supposed to get dressed in?"
As if on cue, the laboratory door flew open and a rather large
and misshapen black bird flapped its wings across the space and
landed squarely in Cassie's arms. The "bird" then unfolded
itself and was revealed to be a black velvet gown, more-or-less
identical to Nimue's.
Cassie rolled her eyes, tossed the gown into the air, raised her
arms, and the gown settled over and onto her body. The
bodice tightened itself and the ends of the laces formed an
elegant bow. The gown was a perfect fit, showcasing
Cassie's perfect body and providing a generous glimpse of her
smooth, tan breasts, just as Nimue's gown partially revealed her
lightly freckled bosom.
"Stop dawdling and follow me to the kitchen," Nimue
ordered. "I'm suddenly hungry."
Cassie watched her ancient, powerful, beautiful, and "eccentric"
hostess turn in a swirl of black velvet and pad towards the
door. "Yes, My Lady," she purred, and quickly followed.
|An Entanglement of Witches
| Chapter 5