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 check
it out, so she hopped off the bed and padded across the
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
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
"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:
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.
- The wardrobe had
allowed her to open its doors (for which she was
- Two black velvet
dresses and a black velvet cloak hung on hangers from a
- A pair of black
leather boots rested on the floor;
- Resting in
cubbyhole-like shelves set off to the right end were what
appeared to be several folded pairs of black stockings or
- The dresses,
cloak, boots, and stockings were the total contents of the
"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
"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!
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
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
"I'm not tired, thank you," Hermione huffed, then turned back to
the open wardrobe. "I want my clothing back!" she
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 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
|An Entanglement of Witches
| Chapter 3
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 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
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.
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
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,
"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
"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
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.
"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 a well known for its euphoric properties
and is a highly sought-after ingredient for certain potions and
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
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
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.
a final gagged sigh... closed her eyes... and surrendered to her
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ zzzzzzz ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
|An Entanglement of Witches
| Chapter 3
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.)
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 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
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.
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.
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
"♫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.
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
"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
"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?"
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
Sabrina frowned. "Uh... what?"
"The query should be, what are we!" the grinning
"We are goblins!" a new, voice announced from behind Sabrina's
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
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
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
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.
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.
|An Entanglement of Witches
| Chapter 3