by Van ©2019
		Chapter 3

Hermione's inspection of the door-that-was-no-longer-a-door complete, she padded back to the comfy bed of her charming, rustic, inescapable guest bedroom/prison cell, sat, and heaved a sigh of truly tragic proportions.  She was at a loss regarding how to proceed, and Hermione Granger didn't like being at a loss about anything.

Hermione's hostess—who happened to be a beautiful and ancient witch with magnificent red hair and insurmountable powers—had suggested she change into "appropriate" clothing, enjoy a nice nap, and wait for teatime.  And then, Nimue had made it happen, literally sweeping Hermione off her feet, whisking her through the air, and depositing her in her current location.  Sabrina Spellman had met a similar fate across the hall.  And then, adding incarceration to levitation, the door had slammed shut, fused to the wall... and that was that.

The prisoner/guest heaved another sigh, then gazed at the bedroom's single window.  Due diligence required she should check it out, so she hopped off the bed and padded across the bedroom. 

Two sets of divided curtains hung on either side of the window.  The inner pair were airy and translucent and the outer pair were heavy, opaque drapes,  Both were pulled back and held by long tieback-cords of braided flax or cotton.

The window itself was rustic and well constructed with two rectangular sashes hinged on the left and right, secured in the middle by a decorative latch.  The heavy stiles and rails held thick, diamond-shaped panes as clear and flawless as modern muggle float-glass.  But upon closer inspection, Hermione came to suspect the panes might not be glass at all, but squares of flawless, transparent crystal, possibly even diamond!

Hermione drew her wand and cast a passive, diagnostic "reveal" spell.  A powerful ward repulsed her spell immediately, but not before she confirmed her suspicion that the diamond panes were, in fact, diamonds.  She returned her wand to her jacket pocket. 

The latch in the center was of cast bronze and took the form of "The Green Man," a disembodied male head with a full beard and long hair made of oak leaves.

Hermione reached for the latch—"Oh!"—and gasped in surprise.  The Green Man's bronze eyes had opened and he was frowning!

"No, lass!" the bronze Green Man scolded in a surprisingly deep voice.  "The window shall remain closed.  'Tis the will of The Lady."

"Very well," Hermione sighed, then turned from the window.  There was no point in arguing with the furnishings.

She padded to the wardrobe (which was elaborately carved on a theme of flowering vines and fluttering songbirds), gripped the handles, and pulled open its double doors.  She quickly noted five things:

1. The wardrobe had allowed her to open its doors (for which she was appropriately grateful);
2. Two black velvet dresses and a black velvet cloak hung on hangers from a wooden bar;
3. A pair of black leather boots rested on the floor;
4. Resting in cubbyhole-like shelves set off to the right end were what appeared to be several folded pairs of black stockings or tights;
   
5. The dresses, cloak, boots, and stockings were the total contents of the wardrobe.

The cloak was lined with black satin and was traditional, meaning it was full-length with a generous hood.  The dresses were similar to each other in style, but not identical.  Both had full-length skirts, long, drooping sleeves, and crisscrossing black ribbons to lace their bodices and tighten their waistlines.  Also, both had plunging necklines and would quite obviously reveal a great deal more cleavage than Hermione generally chose to share with the public.  One dress had generous cutouts that would bare most of her shoulders and upper arms and the other did not.  The boots were knee-length with rather high heels and laced up the front.

"Oh, really," Hermione muttered, staring at the outfits with mild disapproval.  Change out the plain black stockings for red and white striped versions, add a conical hat with a wide brim, and throw in a broom and she'd be every muggle's stereotypical vision of a cackling witch.

Hermione heaved yet another sigh.  The hat she could have lived with, although it would certainly look ridiculous, but she was grateful for the absence of a broom.  Her friends Harry Potter, Ginny Weasley, and her boyfriend Ron were all absolutely brilliant broom-riders.  All three had played for Gryffindor on the house Quidditch team at Hogwarts, and Ginny had recently been drafted by the Hollyhead Harpies and gone professional!  Hermione, on the other hand, had always been a mediocre broom-rider at best.  It was just about the only magical skill at which she failed to excel.

Hermione continued gazing at the dresses.  She supposed she wouldn't look too bad in either one... and Ron would have appreciated the dress with the shoulder cutouts.  Nimue's dress had been similar, and she'd certainly managed to carry off the I'm-a-witch look without difficulty.  Granted, the powerful redhead of indeterminate age had more of a bosom than Hermione Granger... but Hermione knew the tight bodices would push up and support her jubblies and display what she did have to maximum effect... probably.

Suddenly—"Oh!"—every button and fastener of Hermione's "Ministry uniform" flew open—entirely on their own!—and she found herself in a twisting, turning, and ultimately losing battle to remained dressed!

"No!  Stop!  Come back here immediately!  Do you hear me?  Ohhh!"

Despite her best efforts, Hermione's jacket had slithered free and abandoned her, and now it was hovering in midair, just out of reach.  Her skirt, blouse, pantyhose, panties, and bra followed suit!  Even her black velvet reticle had wiggled, squirmed, and finally slipped free of her left wrist!  "No!"

Totally nude and blushing furiously, Hermione repeatedly lunged and grabbed for her hovering clothing with her right hand while doing her best to shield her naked breasts with her left arm and hand.  "This is mutiny!" she accused in a wounded manner.  "I am very disappointed in all of you!"

Ignoring Hermione's lecture, the elements of her former ensemble bobbed, weaved, dodged, and successfully evaded her grasp.

And then, the hovering reticule opened like a gaping mouth, and one-by-one her traitorous clothes folded themselves and darted inside.  The drawstring tightened, the reticule flew inside the wardrobe, its drawstring repeatedly wrapped around the hanger-bar, then knotted itself several times.

Her left arm still across her breasts and her right hand now shielding her "lady bits," Hermione glared at the swinging reticule.  "This is outrageous!"

The blushing, fidgeting, au naturel witch heard a soft sound behind her, turned (with a frown and a flounce of her wavy brown hair) and watched as the bed's quilt and top-sheet folded themselves back, invitingly.  Simultaneously, the bed's two pillows lifted into the air... fluffed themselves... and dropped back down.

"I'm not tired, thank you," Hermione huffed, then turned back to the open wardrobe.  "I want my clothing back!" she demanded, "immediately!"

The wardrobe's answer was to slam its doors and fuse them together, in the same way the bedroom door had fused to the wall soon after her arrival in the bedroom.

"Oh, bother!" Hermione complained as she abandoned her futile attempts to preserve her modesty and stamped her right foot.  Her hands were now clenched at her sides.  By all appearances the wardrobe was resolved to remain woodenly stubborn, so she spun on her heels (once again flouncing her brown hair) and stomped (padded) to the bed.

Like it or not, Hermione was "sky-clad," and at the moment was powerless to do anything about it.  Even her wand had abandoned her!  It was still in her jacket pocket, inside the reticle, and inside the "locked" wardrobe.  The disgruntled, involuntary nudist climbed onto the bed, slid between the cool sheets, sighed, rolled onto her side... and pulled the covers up to her pouting chin.

The Lady had gotten her way.  Hermione was "properly dressed."  She had yet to don one of the black velvet gowns, but she was naked, which Nimue had stipulated was an acceptable alternative to a "witch's gown."

My report to the Ministry will make for scandalous reading, Hermione realized.  I'll have to beg Minister Shacklebolt to classify this part of the narrative as Restricted.  That the eventual report would be anything but full, complete, and unedited was unthinkable.  Hermione Granger would never submit anything but an unexpurgated report, no matter how personally embarrassing certain of its details might be.

The mortified, naked witch closed her eyes... and despite her residual anger... almost immediately drifted off to sleep. 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ zzzzzzz ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Several minutes ago, smiling and gorgeous, Nimue had turned in a swish of black velvet and strolled from her thaumaturgical/alchemical laboratory, claiming she had "things to do," including supervising the house elves in the baking of a "scrummy pie" from the blue boinkberries she'd "harvested" from Cassie's sweaty, bound, and gagged body.

Cassie remained behind, of course, still naked, sweaty, bound, gagged, and suspended.  She was also panting, exhausted, and in a post-orgasmic daze.  However, she was no longer suspended in a full spreadeagle with her limbs flung wide.  Now, she was hanging by her big toes from the rafters, head-down and with her hands behind her back!

Horizontal, tight, flesh-dimpling bands of hemp bound her naked, glistening body at her ankles, lower legs, above and below her knees, mid thighs, crotch, waist, above and below her breasts, and yoking her shoulders.  The bands took the form of interwoven belts of rope, by the way, rather than neat stacks of individual strands.  In addition, diagonal ropes crisscrossed Cassie's body from her toes to her shoulders in a continuous diamond-hitch harness that was cinched between her limbs and torso at every opportunity.  Finally, wherever the diagonal elements of the harness met each other or passed over the horizontal belts, tightly compacted rosette knots knit the bondage into a unified whole.

There was more.  Cassie's hands were palm-to-palm and encased in an exceedingly complicated rope sheath that bound her thumbs, fingers, hands, and wrists, individually and collectively.  The sheath also pressed her wrists against her butt-cheeks and was integrated into the crotch-harness that bisected her butt and both cleaved and pinched her labia together.  More rope encircled her breasts, framing, crisscrossing between, and slightly squeezing the tan, firm, smooth mounds.

Finally, Cassie's panties stuffing and stockings cleave and over-the-mouth gags remained intact, as did the suspension spell making her virtually weightless and supporting all but a fraction of her weight.  (Otherwise, her big-toes would have been in agony and her blood would be pooling in her gagged head.)

Cassie's rather short brown hair hung around her head in the reverse of her usual semi-pageboy as she dozed in exhaustion and the post-orgasmic afterglow.  She felt good, but wasn't about to admit it (even if Nimue returned and removed her gag).

Cassie hung in her incredible (magically applied) bondage, feeling a little like a sausage curing in some farmer's smokehouse... and waited.  She didn't bother struggling, either physically or magically.  Anything even vaguely resembling some sort of escape was clearly impossible.  Cassie was a powerful witch, but knew that she wasn't in Nimue's class.  Not even close.

Time passed.

The boinkberry vines had long since slithered from Cassie's body and back to wherever they'd come from.  A few potted ferns and herbs were still visible, especially near the laboratory's windows, but the botanical storm surge had subsided.

More time passed, marked only by Cassie's slow, deep, even breathing and the beads of sweat occasionally rolling down her smooth, tan, firm, rope-dimpled skin.

"Oh, there you are."

Cassie opened her eyes and focused across the laboratory at Gwĕnhyvær, the author of the clever and profound remark.

The decidedly petite wood elf was dressed in her same everyday costume of brown, soft-sole boots, dark green tights, and a green and brown vest and blouse combo that showcased her bare arms and most of her shoulders.  The tips of her pointed ears peeked through her long, straight red hair, as did the antler-like tines of her hardwood circlet.  A saucy grin curled her lips and mischief sparkled in her green eyes as she strolled towards Cassie's hanging form, carefully weaving around the worktables, chairs, and stools.

Cassie forced a sad, exhausted sigh through her gag.  The last thing she needed right now was mischief of any variety, much less wood elf mischief.

Hands on hips and booted feet apart, Gwen smiled as she leered at Cassie's nude, bound, gagged, sweaty, hanging body, admiring both Nimue's hemp handiwork and Cassie's incredibly attractive curves.  "She gets like this when her friends stay away too long," Gwen sighed, then dragged over a wooden chair with comfortable back and seat cushions, positioned it close to Cassie, climbed onto the seat, and sat cross-legged in a half-lotus.  "I knew one of her soon-to-arrive visitors wasn't a stranger, but she didn't tell me it was you, Cassandra."  Gwen's cheeks dimpled as her smile became a wry smirk.  "I should have guessed it was you.  I thought it might have been Karina Spankebottom or Helen Magnus, but I should have guessed it was you."

Cassie stared at Gwen with tired brown eyes.  Even with the help of Nimue's levitating/micro-gravity spell, dangling upside down and carrying on a civilized conversation was proving to be awkward.  There was also the added complication of her gag, of course.

"Anyway," Gwen continued, "that's why she tortured me yesterday.  She was overly excited about your impending arrival."  Gwen heaved a sad little sigh.  "I know it's not your fault, Cassandra, but I've decided to blame you for it anyway."

Cassie rolled her eyes... which, surprising, is also awkward when you're dangling upside down by your toes.

"She tortured me, Cassandra," Gwen sighed, shaking her head.  "I have to blame somebody.  She tickled me all the way to Sillytown!"

Cassie rolled her eyes, again.  There is no actual Sillytown, of course, not even in the Green Wood, but, in Cassie's opinion, for Gwĕnhyvær the wood elf, the journey to Sillytown would be very short.

Gwen uncrossed her legs, scooted forward until she was sitting on the very edge of the chair with her booted feet dangling, then reached out, grabbed Cassie's rope-bound arms, pulled the hanging witch towards her, and crossed her booted and tights-clad legs and feet behind Cassie's back and over her bound arms.

"Mrrrf!" Cassie complained (quietly, so as not to make her magically enhanced panty-gag swell and over-stuff her gagged mouth).  The gagged mouth in question and the rest of Cassie's lower face was now pressed against Gwen's tights-clad crotch, and the wood elf's thighs were pressing against her ears!

Unseen by Cassie (or course), Gwen smiled, steadied the witch's weakly squirming, hanging body with her hands, then leaned even closer and licked Cassie's hemp-framed breasts, first on the left...  "Yum!"  ...and then on the right.  "Yum!"  She then began delicately teasing Cassie's nipples with the tip of her flickering tongue.

"Mrrr!"

"There's nothing like sweaty witch-titties," Gwen sighed, then resumed licking Cassie's breasts.  "Salty.  Yummie!"

Cassie shivered and wiggled in her bonds.  Despite the many, many orgasms Nimue had so recently extracted from her helpless body (not to mention all the erotic energy drained from her aura to make all those boinkberries) Cassie found she wasn't quite as exhausted as she'd thought.  Gwen's evil little pink tongue was working wonders on her nipples.  It occurred to her the tongue in question might be releasing residual erotic tension pooled in her body as a result of Nimue's magic... or maybe Gwen's tongue was just that good.  Anyway, what was happening to her "witch-titties" felt very good indeed!  Also, the scent of Gwen's crotch was... musky... and wood elf musk is well known for its euphoric properties and is a highly sought-after ingredient for certain potions and cocktails.

"Ahem."

The voice belonged to Nimue, of course, and clearly, The Lady was simultaneously taken aback and amused by Gwen's shenanigans.

"Get out of here at once, you little toerag," Nimue chuckled, making a shooing motion, "before I give you to the vines and let them extract enough berries to make an entire pony keg of wood elf musk enhanced boinkberry sherry."  She cocked an eyebrow.  "Come to think of it, that's an excellent idea.  I'm low on aperitifs at the moment."

Gwen planted a quick kiss on each of Cassie's nipples, giggled, then scampered away, almost too fast for human eyes to follow... especially the eyes of a naked, sweaty, bound, gagged, hanging upside down, and erotically drained witch.

Cassie swung from her toes as Nimue stepped forward, moved the chair (Gwen's former perch) a few feet back, then settled into the comfortable cushions and smiled.

"I can tell you're tired, Cassandra," Nimue purred.

Talk about understating the obvious, Cassie mused.

"Now," Nimue continued, "I've decided how to begin with the girls.  I know you'll probably disagree with my tactics, but remember, you're the one that brought them to me."  She made a gesture with her right hand and Cassie's toe-suspension rope released itself from the rafters and began languidly writhing like a weightless snake.  At the same time, Cassie's still stringently bound body shifted from the vertical to the horizontal and drifted towards a comfortable-looking daybed near the laboratory windows.

Nimue continued gesturing and Cassie slowly settled down onto the daybed's cushions.  Cassie's natural weight seemed to return, as evidenced by the way her helpless form sank into the cushions, her hair settled into a slightly tousled version of her usual attractive coif, and her rope-framed breasts flattened under the influence of gravity.

The Lady's smile turned somewhat mischievous, she made a final gesture, and several strands of hemp rope flew from under the daybed and from Cassie's already existing bonds, hitched, cinched, and wove themselves into a symmetrical web, and tightened with an audible creak.  Cassie was now elaborately and stringently bound as well as being bound to the daybed, and the relevant ropes were tight enough to dimple the edges of the mattress.  As before, there were no visible knots with dangling free ends.

Her brown eyes half closed, Cassie sighed through her gag and shivered in her incredible bondage.  Shivering was just about the only act of defiance the tightly cinched hemp web would allow.

Nimue had strolled to the daybed and was smiling down at her captive.  "The girls are sleeping, waiting for me to send them the dreams that will begin my appraisal."  She leaned down and kissed Cassie's nipples... then gently squeezed Cassie's left breast.  "You should sleep as well, to recover your strength.  I'll send you a dream as well, just for fun."

Cassie turned her head and watched Nimue stroll towards the laboratory door.  Whatever her hostess had in mind for Hermione and Sabrina, she probably wouldn't approve, but when you turn for advice to a witch who is more than a thousand years old... you should expect the unexpected.  Anyway, it will all turn out well in the end, Cassie thought.  Of that, she was sure.  Cassie might have to repair a little emotional trauma and find a way to win back the youngsters' trust, but she was sure she was up to the challenge.

As for the challenge of Nimue's ropes... there was no challenge.  There was nothing Cassie could do to defeat Nimue's magic, especially not while naked, bound, and gagged inside The Lady's very own cottage and with her aura at its weakest.  Cassie would remain a captive until Nimue decided to release her.

Cassie heaved a final gagged sigh... closed her eyes... and surrendered to her exhaustion.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ zzzzzzz ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Later... much later... over coffee and tea, Sabrina would share with Hermione what happened after she was "shown to her bedroom" by Nimue's magic.  As it turns out, their stories were more-or-less the same.  Sabrina had also been involuntarily stripped and gently encouraged to take a restorative nap.  The only substantive difference had been the "salty" nature of Sabrina's protests and complaints, but Hermione had been very understanding.  (Sabrina was a "bloody Yank," after all.)

Anyway...

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ zzzzzzz ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Sabrina opened her eyes.  It was full night, with a panoply of stars and a full moon shining overhead.  She was in a small, flowery meadow surrounded on all sides by giant, moss-covered oaks with gnarled, wide-spread branches.  Under the canopy, shafts of blue-white moonlight shone through the oak canopies and a light mist hung in the air, just above the forest floor.  Fireflies twinkled and flashed, flying erratically over the meadow and under the trees.  It was... beautiful... and peaceful.

And speaking of flowers, Sabrina was reclined on her back on a bed of fresh flowers.  I believe it's call a 'bier,' Sabrina thought.  Or are biers only for dead people?  Pallet, she decided.  I'll go with pallet.  Sabrina was reclined on a pallet of fresh flowers.

Oh by the way... Sabrina was naked... as naked as she'd been in the comfy bed of her guest bedroom back in Nimue's cottage.  Speaking of which...  Where the hell is Nimue's cottage?  And how the hell did I get here?  And where, exactly, is 'here?'

Someone had also scattered fresh flowers across her body, mainly her boobs and crotch, as if they were trying to preserve her modesty.  Not that they tried very hard, Sabrina noted.  The flowers were too few in number to hide much of anything.  She sat up and most of the flowers in question fell away from her breasts.

"♫Tee-hee-hee-hee-hee!♫"

Sabrina frowned.  The sound had been very faint... and musical... and had come from somewhere in the nearby grass.  She looked around and, "Oh!"  Her eyes popped wide and she smiled.  Sabrina couldn't help but smile.

"♫Tee-hee-hee-hee-hee!♫"

It was a fairy!  A naked little fairy with wings and tiny little antenna and was roughly two yards away and was clinging to blades of grass!  She was only a few inches tall (about the size of one of those small plastic action figures, in Sabrina's estimation) and she was glowing!  And she was beautiful!  Between the mist and the distance, Sabrina couldn't make out any real detail, but the fairy was definitely a she, and she was beautiful!

"♫Pretty-pretty-witch!♫"  The fairy said (or sang), then vaulted into the air.  Her wings were now an iridescent blur and her glow had brightened.

"Hello," Sabrina said quietly, still smiling.  "My name is Sabrina."

"♫Sabrrrrrina!  Tee-hee-hee-hee-hee!♫"  The Fairy zipped up to join the darting lights far overhead.

Sabrina realized that at least some of what she'd taken for fireflies were fairies.  However, there were fireflies present.  A few flew close enough that Sabrina could be sure they actually were beetles with glowing abdomens, and they were quite a bit smaller than the fairies.  However, the fairies were all flying high enough that distance disguised the relative difference in size.

"♫Sabrrrrrina!♫"

"♫Sabrrrrrrina!♫"

"♫Pretty-witch-Sabrrrrrina!♫"

"♫Tee-hee-hee-hee-hee!♫"

It was a faint, sweet chorus of fairy voices, quiet enough and far enough away that Sabrina could just barely hear the tinkling, chiming chorus.  Was she being mocked?  Sabrina didn't think so, but even if she was, she didn't care.  Sabrina smiled upwards and spun in a slow circle with her arms outstretched to either side, slowly spinning and dancing as the fairies flitted and sang.  Again, Sabrina couldn't help herself.  For the moment, she wasn't worried about where she was, how she'd come to be here, of how she was going to get back to Nimue's cottage.  For now... glorious magic was happening all around her, and it was nothing like the casual, cruel darkness characteristic of the Church of Night.

"Come down and tell me your names!" Sabrina shouted, addressing the milling cloud of tiny fey.  "Please!  Was it you who covered me with flowers?  I want to thank you!"

"♫Tee-hee-hee-hee-hee!♫"

"Please!" Sabrina begged.  "Come down!"

Suddenly, as if by some unspoken, instantaneous command, the fairies dispersed!  They zipped among the oaks in all directions, weaving over and under the branches, disappearing and reappearing... growing dimmer and fainter... and then were gone.  Even the fireflies dispersed, landing among the oak leaves and going dark.

The moon was still up, of course, and still sending shafts of blue-white light earthward, but the twinkling, kaleidoscopic display of the fairies and fireflies was sorely missed.  "Bummer," Sabrina muttered under her breath and heaved a disappointed sigh.

"Pretty witch Sabrina," a high-pitched, menacing, amused voice squeaked from the shadows.

Sabrina turned in the direction of the voice.  It had been reedy but not musical, and whoever it was, it was not a fairy.  "Who's there?"  There was no response.  Sabrina hurriedly scanned her immediate surroundings and located a fallen tree branch a few feet away.  She scrambled over and picked it up.  The good news was the branch was just the right size to serve as a proper club.  The bad news, however, was that it was half-covered with moss and quite possibly half-rotten.  Still, it was all she had.  Sabrina took a proper batting stance with her "weapon," and tried again.  "Show yourself!  What are you afraid of?"

Something stirred in the deep, mossy shadows, and a strange figure shambled into view.  It was short, squat, and about the size of Gwen the wood elf.  It had pointed ears, like an elf, but even in the moonlight Sabrina could see its skin was green, flushed with pink.  Its eyes were yellow and full of menace and it had a wide mouth full of alarmingly sharp teeth.  Also, its arms were disproportionately long and it had large, clutching hands.  It was wearing a ragged jerkin, short pants, and moccasins with long leather laces crisscrossing its scrawny legs..

Also (and ominously) whatever the thing was, it had a generous coil of thin, natural fiber rope clutched in its left hand!

"Who are you?" Sabrina demanded, brandishing her makeshift club.  "What are you?"

"We, witchling!" the ugly little thing with the rope responded.

Sabrina frowned.  "Uh... what?"

"The query should be, what are we!" the grinning thing cackled.

"We are goblins!" a new, voice announced from behind Sabrina's back.

She spun around to find an additional half-dozen of the things—who apparently were " goblins"—had appeared, and they all had the same sharp-toothed smiles and coils of thin rope!  "Stay back!"  Sabrina clutched her club more tightly (and tried to ignore the way it compacted in a slightly spongy manner under her grip).

"And you are Sabrina the pretty witch," the original goblin speaker stated.

Sabrina spun back around to find the first goblin had been joined by several more companions, all equally menacing and carrying rope.

"You are Sabrina the pretty witch," the goblin continued, "with The Lady's geas cast upon you and unable to use your powers to defend yourself in the Green Wood."

The goblins all took a threatening step forward.

"I swear I'll bash your ugly skulls in if you don't—Eek!  Nooo!"

The goblins had pounced!  Sabrina's club had succumbed to rot and disintegrated harmlessly on her first swing as she disappeared under a pile of grappling goblins.

"Get off me, you little creeps!"

Sabrina fought for all she was worth, but the goblins' numbers easily overcame her height and weight advantage.

"Hands off!  No!"

The goblins were being decidedly impolite about where and what they grabbed.  Also, despite their wiry builds and short statures, they were strong and knew how to cooperate in the subjugation of squirming, struggling prey!

"I swear!" Sabrina warned.  "Get off me or—Mrrrpfh!"

The goblins had come equipped with more than rope.  A distressingly large ball of rather foul-tasting leather had been thrust into her mouth, and the ball was attached to the inside of a leather muzzle that now covered Sabrina's lower face!  It had a cutout for her nose, cupped her chin, and stretched from ear to ear!  Leather thongs tightened and were knotted under her hair to form a web-like harness that kept the muzzle in place and required her to bite down on the mouth-filling plug!

"Mrrrrrrr!"

At the same time, rope tightened around Sabrina's upper arms, pinning them to her sides.  They crisscrossed between her breasts, yoked her shoulders, and pressed her crossed wrists and raised lower arms against her spine, just below her shoulder blades!  She fought for all she was worth, but with every loop of rope that tightened around, between, or through her arms, shoulders, waist, and crotch, her struggles grew weaker and even less effective.

The gremlins expended coil after coil of thin rope, and eventually Sabrina stopped fighting.  It was pointless.

Her captors also hobbled Sabrina's ankles, taking a dozen loops around and between her ankles, then wrapping the ropes from ankle to ankle.  She was forced to her feet and found she had about a foot of semi-rigid slack.  It was enough to allow her to walk, albeit slowly and awkwardly.  From what Sabrina could see of her bonds, they were semi-symmetrical and something of a tangle, but were tight, well-cinched and hitched, and inescapable.  Nothing that felt like a knot was within the limited reach of Sabrina's fluttering fingers, and the knotted rope between her legs and cleaving her labia bit in an irritating manner when she tried to twist her torso or roll her shoulders.

"Mrrrrrrr!"

The goblins had produced a pair of long, stout poles, each with a loop of rope at one end.  Sabrina believed they were called "catch poles," and were used to capture and control stray animals.  Tonight, however, she was the animal and they were being used to control her.

"Mrrrf!"

The catch pole loops tightened around her neck.  Then, with the first pole-bearer in the lead and the second to the rear, the goblin troop shambled away.  Sabrina had no choice but to awkwardly shuffle along in their midst.

"We have a pretty witchlet to play with!" one of the goblin's crowed in triumph.

Sabrina was pretty sure the speaker had been the first goblin, the first of the ugly little runts to enter the meadow.  Apparently, he was their leader.

"We have a pretty naked witchlet named Sabrina!" the goblin cackled, and his companions cheered and shook their remaining coils of rope.

At least they're setting a reasonable pace, Sabrina thought as she hobbled to her unknown fate.  She was literally twice the size of her captors and had fought like the proverbial tiger, but they'd tied her up and gagged her, nonetheless.  It was humiliating... as was being tied up and gagged while naked.  Sabrina Spellman was not a happy camper.