eyes snapped open.
There was a brief moment of disorientation... but it quickly
passed and she remembered where she was and what had recently
happened. She was in the Green Wood, on a mission for the
Ministry. She was in Nimue's cozy cottage, incarcerated in
a cozy guest bedroom and lying on a cozy guest bed. Also,
she was naked, her clothes having defected to The Lady's cause
and abandoned her, and were presently locked inside the
bedroom's wooden wardrobe. The bed's top-sheet and quilt
were pulled up to her chin.
Also, it was night, in that what was clearly moonlight was
streaming through the diamond-shaped panes of the bedroom window
(which, by the way, were actual diamonds).
I missed teatime? Hermione wondered. Why
didn't Nimue wake me? She wasn't particularly hungry
or thirsty, but still, Nimue had promised tea! One doesn't
promise tea and then renege! Hermione frowned. It
just isn't done. Also... something woke me
up. I'm sure of it. But what was it?
Someone was tapping on the window. Make that something.
It was difficult to be sure, given the distance between the bed
and the window and the way the thing in question was silhouetted
in the moonlight, but whatever it was, it was small and furry
and might be... a squirrel?
Hermione sat up in bed—and quickly lifted the top-sheet to
under her chin, again, when it fell away and exposed her
breasts. Why is a squirrel tapping on my window? she
pondered. And why is a squirrel out and about after
dark? Squirrels are diurnal. It's in all the
Suddenly, the window flew open and the squirrel leaped from the
windowsill and into the bedroom, and it wasn't alone! A
dozen squirrels followed... then two dozen... then more!
An undulating wave of furry bodies was pouring through
the open window and bounding towards the bed—and Hermione!
"Eek! No! Go away! No!" The
squirrels were on the bed, pulling back the covers, and holding
Hermione down! "Eeeeeeeee!" she squealed.
Despite the human-to-squirrel size differential, the
bushy-tailed rodents were surprisingly adept adversaries.
Hermione was sure that in a normal contest (if you can call
wrestling with a hundred or so squirrels "normal"), she should
have been able to prevail (as long as biting wasn't
involved). However, the hairy little monsters were
cooperating like a swarm of army ants! Some were clutching
the mattress or the bed-frame, some were clutching each other,
and some were clutching her! And their little
hands and feet were surprisingly dexterous, strong, and
grabby! She was pinned to the bed by a plethora of
warm, furry bodies!
And oh-by-the way—"No! No! Stop that!
Heeeeelp!"—the squirrels were tying her up! They were
using the tieback-cords from the curtains and drapes, and loops
of the natural fiber, decoratively braided, and rather thin rope
were tightening and being cinched around Hermione's ankles, as
well as her legs, above and below the knees. "Let me go!
Oh!" She'd been flipped onto her stomach, her arms
pulled behind her back, her wrists crossed, and now they were
being bound as well! Next, her upper arms were pinned to
her torso as more cords passing above and below her breasts,
around her waist and forearms, and yoked her shoulders.
Again, all the cords were tight and well-cinched.
And then, she heard a ripping sound and a short time
later—"No! No! Heeeeeelp-mmmrfh!"—a soft
cloth was forced into Hermione's sputtering, protesting mouth,
and a second, narrowly folded cloth was being tied as a
cleave-gag, under her hair! She surmised both elements of
her gag were strips torn from the bed's top sheet.
"Mrrrm!" They made for an effective gag, even if it had
been tied by squirrels. Hermione's tousled brown curls
fluttered and flounced as she squirmed and struggled and tossed
her gagged head.
Hermione felt terrible that one of The Lady's bed-linens might
possibly have been irreparably damaged in order to silence her;
however, the ruination of the top sheet was entirely the
squirrels' doing and she absolutely refused to
accept responsibility or feel even a modicum of guilt.
And then, suddenly, Hermione was squirrel-free! The furry
little invaders had backed away and were sitting atop the
headboard, on the nightstand, and all around her on the edges of
the mattress, gazing at her with their beady little eyes and...
smiling? It may have been Hermione's imagination, but she
thought they were smiling... in a chisel-toothed,
whisker-twitching, disturbingly creepy, and ominous
sort of way.
Hermione writhed and kicked and twisted and gave her bonds a
thorough test... while the squirrels watched. She
also tested her gag. "MRRRmfh!" All of her
restraints passed muster. Full points to the squirrels.
Finally, either Hermione's captors were on a timetable or they'd
grew tired of leering at her naked, bound, gagged, and strenuous
but futile efforts to free herself and/or summon help.
Once again they swarmed her now helplessly bound and gagged
body—"Mrrrrrm!"—lifted her up, and carried her off the bed,
across the bedroom, out the window—"Nrrrrr!"—and into the woods!
Needless to say, what had happened—what was happening—had come as a complete
shock. Despite all Hermione's duly diligent research
in the Ministry Archives in preparation for her mission, despite
the dozens of travelers' accounts and Ministry reports,
ancient and modern, which Hermione had thoroughly read and
digested... being abducted by squirrels hadn't made it onto her
list of things-one-might-wish-to-avoid-in-the-Green-Wood!
Actually, Hermione had made such a list. It was
in her reticule, which was locked in her bedroom's wardrobe,
which was back in Nimue's cottage... the yellowish, twinkling
lights of which were rapidly disappearing from view, lost among
the ancient oaks as the squirrels carried her deeper and deeper
into the dark, moonlit forest and spirited her away!
|An Entanglement of Witches
| Chapter 4
her eyes to find herself still naked and stringently bound,
gagged, and lying on the comfortable daybed in Nimue's
thaumaturgical/alchemical laboratory. She stared up at the
dark rafters overhead... it was night, with moonlight bathing
her helpless body. And then, her nylon stockings
over-the-mouth and cleave gags unknotted themselves and
slithered from her face. Next, her wadded and now
saliva-dampened panties popped from her mouth and dropped to the
Cassie licked her lips, swallowed, and her lips joined the smile
already evident in her brown eyes.
Abruptly, in a flurry of slithering, sliding, and unraveling,
Cassie's rope bonds released her. She swung her legs off
the daybed, sat up, stood, and still smiling, reached for the
rafters, arched her back, and executed a lengthy full-body
She turned back to the daybed, and noted her former rope bonds
had reduced themselves to a single neatly coiled and hitched
bundle of perhaps fifteen feet in length. She knew all the
many yards of hemp rope was still there, of course, meaning the
many times fifteen-feet of conditioned hemp that had bound her
to the daybed, but a single fifteen-foot coil was more
convenient for carrying.
Cassie examined her smooth, tan, exquisitely conditioned
body. She was crisscrossed with rope-marks, and the
pattern of indentations left by her former three-twist rope
bonds were clearly visible in all the many, elaborate
marks. "This won't do," Cassie purred, and made a
sweeping, arcane gesture down her body. The rope-marks
faded in a matter of seconds, leaving Cassie's nude body
undamaged, flawless and... in a word... perfect.
Still smiling, Cassie took the rope bundle in her right hand and
her crumpled, damp panties in her left, spun on her bare heels,
and padded from the laboratory. Her destination was
Nimue's kitchen, and there, she found her hostess brewing a pot
Cassie stood in the threshold of the kitchen, smiling and
watching as Nimue, poured steaming water into her Brown Betty
teapot, then hung the iron kettle back on its accustomed hook on
the iron swing-arm then held it over the fire. Nimue was
wearing her usual black velvet "witch's gown" with long,
drooping sleeves, full-length skirt, ribbon-laced bodice, and
plunging neckline that showcased her lightly freckled, generous
breasts. Her glorious red hair was draped in an orderly
riot of curls around her high-cheeked, lightly-freckled, gorgeous
Nimue turned back to her tea service on the kitchen
table—"Oh!"—and noticed Cassie's nude, smiling form. The
Lady frowned. "You wicked girl," she scolded. "What
are you doing free? I'm afraid I'm going to have to punish
you for your impertinence." She noticed the rope in
Cassie's hand and her lips curled in a coy smile. "You
came prepared. Wicked, wise girl." She
pulled out a sturdy wooden chair from the table and turned it to
face Cassie. "Why don't you take a seat and—urk!"
Nimue's green eyes popped wide and her coral lips began
trembling, as if she was trying to speak and had suddenly found
Cassie padded into the kitchen, still smiling. She dropped
the bundled rope and her panties on the chair seat, then took a
step back. "I have a better idea," she purred. "Why
don't you strip?"
Her eyes still wide, Nimue stared at her naked guest. Her
lips continued trembling. She was also gasping,
swallowing, and her fingers twitching.
"You heard me," Cassie said quietly, "strip."
Nimue continued staring at Cassie, but she also released the bow
in the black ribbon securing her gown's bodice, reached behind
her back and released gown's buttons, then shrugged out of the
garment and let it fall to the floor. Her motions were
awkward and jerky, as if she was fighting an unseen force...
which she was. Now as nude as her inexplicably not bound
and gagged guest, Nimue stepped free of the rumpled gown and
stood, clenching and unclenching hands at her sides.
Cassie drank in the sight of Nimue's perfect body. The
Lady's pale form was freckled from head to toe, but in a way
that suggested exposure while active, rather than through
passive sunbathing. Her shoulders, arms, thighs, feet, and
the the tops of her breasts were especially dappled.
Cassie knew from previous visits that her hostess was serious
when she'd told Sabrina and Hermione that going sky-clad was an
acceptable costume for a witch in the Green Wood.
Obviously, Nimue didn't always stroll through the forest dressed
in black velvet. Sometimes she wore nothing... like now.
"Hold still," Cassie ordered, and made another gesture.
To Nimue's obvious horror, the tiny gold
triskelion pendant necklace that served as a convenient way for
her to focus her powers lifted from her chest... the clasp of
its chain released at the nape of her neck... it drifted across
the kitchen... and settled around Cassie's neck, and settled
against the tan skin of her chest.
"There," Cassie purred. "It's done." Her smile
broadened, and just for an instant, her eyes flashed with green
fire. "Such power," she whispered. "It's...
intoxicating." A delicate shiver shook her tan, smooth,
exquisite body... then her smile became a wry grin. "Feet
apart, fingers laced, and hands atop your head."
Still moving in a jerky manner, Nimue shuffled until her feet
were about eighteen inches apart. She then laced her
fingers and placed her palms atop her head, as ordered.
"You may speak," Cassie said, and snapped her fingers.
"Ahhh!" Nimue gasped. Then blinked and drew a deep
breath. "What is this dark magic?" she demanded in an
angry (and possibly slightly frightened) voice.
"This isn't possible!"
"Not in the real world," Cassie agreed, "not in your
very own cottage, the seat of your power and anchor in the realm
of the Green Wood. But we aren't in the Green
Wood, are we?" She took a step forward, reached down, and
cupped Nimue's pussy with her right hand.
Nimue flinched, then shivered as Cassie's hand began a slow,
gentle massage. "W-what do you mean?" she hissed.
"We are in the dream plane," Cassie responded.
"More precisely the dream plane of the Green Wood, as
opposed to the primary or waking plane, your
true seat of power."
"Ahhh!" Nimue gasped, continuing to shiver.
"Did you think I didn't know?" Cassie chuckled. "You
told me yourself you would be sending me a dream."
Nimue continued shivering and squirming. "B-but... how?"
Cassie withdrew her hand and Nimue stopped shivering.
Cassie smiled and Nimue glowered, her green eyes flashing.
"Don't get all angry-redhead with me, darling," Cassie
chuckled, then cupped Nimue's breasts with both hands and gently
squeezed. Her hostess' breasts were each a handful, firm
and freckled, with pointing nipples. "You may be behaving
as a less than perfect hostess," Cassie continued, "but I came
prepared as the perfect guest. I brought you a
gift." She began gently kneading Nimue's breasts, and
Nimue began shivering, once again. "You know Asibikaashi,
of course. The Ojibwa wise-woman?"
"Of course I know Asibikaashi," Nimue muttered.
"Her power rivals my own... in her own realm." She
continued shivering as Cassie continued squeezing and releasing
her breasts. "We haven't spoken in... centuries."
Cassie nodded. "Asibikaashi gave me an amulet. Place
it around your neck before going to bed, and in the morning
you'll awake with a new ability to exert conscious influence in
the dream plane, to manipulate your own dreams. It's a
skill to be used sparingly, of course. Stifling your
natural dreams can lead to madness." She stopped her
massage of Nimue's breasts, took a step back, and folded her
arms under her own perfect breasts. "But if there
ever was a time for dream manipulation, I think this is
it. I was going to give you the amulet before we leave,
with Asibikaashi's knowledge and blessing. Now...
I'm not so sure."
"I still don't understand how you've stolen my power," Nimue
"Oh, I haven't," Cassie chuckled. "I'm dreaming that
I've stolen your powers. It will only last until I wake,
but such a catastrophe will resonate between the planes.
You'll remember what's happening to you in this dream, even
though it's my dream. You'll also remember what's
about to happen." She padded to the chair and
lifted the bundle of rope. "Don't worry, you'll understand
the magical principles involved better if and when I decide to
pass on Asibikaashi's gift."
"So," Nimue glowered, "I'll remember, and I'll be able to take
the appropriate revenge."
Cassie shrugged. "Turnabout is fair play, sauce for the
goose, all's well that ends well, much ado about nothing, etc.,
etc." She pointed at her crumpled panties still resting on
the chair seat. "Enough talking. Do me a favor:
stuff that disgusting thing in your mouth, and hold it
"No! No! Mrrrpfh!" Nimue had involuntarily
carried out Cassie's instructions, with spasmodic
reluctance. Her mouth filled to capacity with the white,
silky, slightly slimy thing in question, she glared
at her guest with angry green eyes.
"Sit," Cassie suggested (ordered). She then stooped,
gracefully retrieved Nimue's discarded gown with her free hand,
and stood. She then smiled, spun on her heels until her
back was to her now seated hostess, and focused on the hemp
bundle. "Make yourself useful," she ordered, and tossed it
over her shoulder.
Behind her back, Cassie heard slithering, sliding whipping
sound, accompanied by well-muffled shrieks of
outrage. This continued for some time, accompanied by the
occasional quiet creak, but Cassie was concentrating on
the gown in her hands. "No, this won't do," she muttered
to herself, then tossed the the long, black velvet garment into
The gown drifted in midair... then began to transform. It
spun and whirled, faster and faster until it was a spinning
black cloud—then stopped.
The gown was gone, and in its place was a robe of black, nearly
transparent, diaphanous silk. The robe had long, drooping
sleeves, like the gown, and was full-length, also like the
gown. The lower hem and the hems of the sleeves were a
long divided fringe, something like willow leaves, or possibly
icicles of dark smoke.
Cassie lifted her arms and the robe slid over her hands and
settled over her shoulders, straightening itself with a
fluttering wave of the whisper thin fabric. The robe's
belt was a long, broad silk ribbon, and Cassie straightened the
robe's front panels, cinched the belt tight, and tied a neat
bow. There was no mirror available, but Cassie knew the
robe would both enhance and reveal every detail of her body, and
the smoky silk felt good sliding against her skin.
Behind her, the noises had subsided. Cassie smiled,
turned... and her smile widened into a grin. "Oh, well
done, rope," she purred.
Nimue was tied up. Nimue was very tied up.
The Lady was in a sitting hogtie with her toes and feet off the
floor. Her arms were behind the chair back with her
armpits resting on the top rail. Her legs were bound
together including her big toes, ankles, lower legs, above and
below her knees, mid-thighs, and upper thighs. Her legs
were also bound to the chair at a number of places,
including taut, cinched and wrapped ropes that stretched from
her bound legs to the chair's legs and cross-braces. Her
torso was also bound to the chair, of course, with ropes
cleaving her crotch, binding her waist, passing above and below
her breasts. and yoking her shoulders.
Cassie padded in a slow circle around Nimue and the chair,
continuing her assessment. Nimue's wrists were bound
together with her hands palm-to-palm, as well as being bound to
the chair. Her elbows were wrenched together until they
touched and were also bound together and to the chair. The
Lady being tied up and tied to was a consistent theme.
There was more. Nimue's fingers and thumbs were tied with
thin hemp cord, and more cord was tightly and repeatedly wound
around the base of each of The Lady's breasts, tight enough to
make them bulge and blush a truly charming shade of
If ever an occasion called for a naked and bound damsel to voice
vigorous complaints and threats of dire retribution, this would
be it! Unfortunately, not only was Nimue's mouth stuffed
with Cassie's panties, but a broad, belt-like band of interwoven
hemp rope was cleaving said mouth, and the belt was very tight.
There were no knots with free ends anywhere in evidence.
Once again, the rope was as long as required to accomplish the
task at hand, as thick or thin as was required, and with
interwoven, decorative rosettes wherever a horizontal band
was crossed by a diagonal strand. Nimue's bonds were one
continuous, elaborate web of twisted hemp.
Cassie pulled out another chair, sat, then lifted the Brown
Betty teapot and poured herself a stoneware mug. She took
a careful sip, smiled, and sighed with satisfaction.
"Delicious." She shifted her smile to the indignant
prisoner lashed to the chair. "Is that a hint of
rosemary? You simply must tell me the formula for the
blend." She took another sip, her brown eyes never leaving
Nimue's angry, green-eyed stare. "When you're not gagged,
Nimue squirmed and wiggled in her incredible bonds. Her
red curls stirred as she rolled her shoulders, but her eyes
remained locked with Cassie. Clearly, The Lady was not
"Well," Cassie purred, "in for a penny, in for a pound.
Also, I've made my bed, so I'll have to lie in it. I have
nothing to lose, so..." She took another sip of tea.
"I might as well dig the hole a little deeper." She turned
to the tea tray and selected a biscuit (cookie) from a small
plate. "I'll give your boobs a few more minutes to get
even more sensitive, then dribble them with honey, open
the window, and invite the neighborhood bees to join us for
Nimue simmered in irate helplessness and glared at her
guest/captor as Cassie took a delicate bite from the
biscuit. It was Cassandra's dream, and there was nothing
she could do about that at the moment... but all dreamers wake
Cassie chewed and swallowed, then cocked an eyebrow.
"Gingerbread? Really? Isn't that just a tad stereotypical,
darling, even for you?" She took another bite, followed by
a sip from the steaming mug. "Hmm. That said, it does
go well with rosemary tea."
Just you wait, Nimue mentally promised. Just
|An Entanglement of Witches
| Chapter 4
been walking for hours. More precisely, as her
feet were bare, she'd been padding. Also, as her ankles
were hobbled, she'd been shuffling. Throughout, she
remained naked and tightly, inescapably, and rather sloppily
bound. And by "sloppy" she meant her bonds had limited
symmetry, and while well-cinched, they were rather lacking in
style—not that Sabrina was an expert in the aesthetics of rope
bondage or anything.
Also (and unnecessarily, in her opinion), the nooses of the two
catch poles remained around her neck with a handler-gremlin
gripping the poles in front and behind... as if they thought
there was a real danger she'd be able to pad and shuffle for
freedom if they weren't there.
Sabrina was still at a complete loss to explain how she'd come
to be outside of Nimue's cottage and alone in the middle of the
Green Wood—which was what had made her vulnerable to kidnapping
by the modest crowd of two-to-three-foot in height and decidedly
ugly goblins dressed in ragged, patched-together leather
jerkins and pants.
And speaking of leather, the leather ball stuffed in Sabrina's
mouth, the muzzle covering most of her lower face, and the
harness of thongs encasing her head all seemed to have undergone
only rudimentary tanning. The mouth plug had
tasted terrible from the instant it was crammed in place, and it
still tasted terrible. The gremlins rope-making
skill might be excellent, but their tanning technology was
The trek to wherever the goblins were taking her continued.
Logically, Sabrina knew her feet should be a mess, but so far
she'd managed to pad/shuffle across the forest floor without
accruing the expected cuts, bruises, or stubbed toes.
Sabrina and her captors were on what she believed was called a
"game trail," but the ground underfoot was littered with the
usual sticks, twigs, and whatnot, and the light was nowhere good
enough for her to carefully plant her feet. Now that she thought about
it, it was kinda... strange.
And speaking of light, the moon had set some time ago.
Glowing fungi had been providing enough blue-green luminescence
to light their way. But now... slowly... the sky was
brightening. Dawn was approaching.
The goblins showed no sign of stopping, not even to take a
break. Sabrina heaved a gagged (foul-tasting) sigh.
She was surprised she wasn't more worried... but she
wasn't. That was also kinda strange. She felt in
some way detached from what was happening, like none of it was
actually real. This was absurd, of course. She was definitely
naked, tied up, and gagged. She was a captive.
The trek continued... and now the sun was rising, for
sure. The shadows remained deep, but dappled light was
beginning to penetrate the canopy.
Suddenly, "What have we here?" a deep, baritone voice demanded.
The gremlins froze in their tracks (as did Sabrina)—then
collectively looked to their left (as did Sabrina).
Something like ten yards off the trail a quite obviously masculine
figure was seated comfortably on the mossy trunk of a fallen
tree. He stood, smiled, and began calmly striding in the
gremlins' (and Sabrina's) direction.
Sabrina's blue eyes popped wide above her gag. The
figure was over six feet tall and was dressed in a sleeve-less
jerkin of green-dyed suede with some sort of decorative tan
fringe at the shoulders. He was also wearing what appeared
to be goat-fur trousers and rather peculiar black
boots—"Mrrrfh?"—and then Sabrina realized the "boots" were
actually cloven hooves! Also—and of equal importance—the
towering masculine figure's legs were...animal legs? That
is, he was balanced on the hooves and his legs were jointed like
the hindlegs of a quadrupedal mammal. His bare arms,
however, were entirely human. (Also strong and tan).
Oh-by-the-way, he had a pointed goatee and drooping mustache,
striking brown eyes, and an array of decorative white spots on
his cheekbones and brow that might or might not be
natural. Also (in Sabrina's objective opinion) he was
handsome... very handsome... with a smile that actually
sent a little thrill through her naked, bound, and
Finally, he had long, brown, curly hair, and peeking through the
hair was a pair of short, ivory horn! Goat horns.
He's a... faun! Sabrina realized. Or is he a
satyr? Or are they the same thing? I guess I'll go
with 'faun' until somebody or something tells me
different. Anyway, the Green Wood has fauns? Apparently,
yes, the Green Wood has fauns.
The faun stopped about
two yards from Sabrina and her diminutive captors. His
gorgeous brown eyes were on Sabrina, openly leering at
her. She realized goosebumps were tingling all over her
body, even though she wasn't at all cold. In fact, she was
hot and bothered... just a tad.
"Not for you." the faun
stated with a handsome grin.
"We caught her fair and square," the spokesman gremlin growled. "The
witchling is ours. Go away and leave us our plaything,
The faun laughed.
"Not for you. Not for gremlins. Shoo, before I toss
you into the nearest loch. There, you can discuss it with
the kelpies. Go!"
Finbar, Sabrina thought. His name is Finbar.
"The witchling is ours!" the gremlin wailed.
Finbar's smile faded. "Go, now!" he barked.
Grumbling and muttering, the gremlins loosened the catch poles'
loops and flipped them over her gagged head... then stomped
away, leaving Sabrina behind, of course. The ferns and
other vegetation shook... and they were gone, leaving Sabrina
behind, naked, bound, and gagged. She shuffled her hobbled
feet, tugged on her rope bonds, and blinked at her... rescuer?
Finbar's smile returned as he resumed leering at his... prize?
Finally, Sabrina found she's had enough. Maybe she was
naked and helpless and at the mercy of a six-foot-plus faun
(with a killer smile), but that didn't mean she had to cower and
whimper like a damsel in distress. Her blue eyes glared
up at Finbar.
"Such spirit," Finbar sighed, still smiling. "And such
beauty." And with that, he stepped forward and swept Sabrina
into his arms, holding her naked, bound, and gagged body with
"Mrrrfh!" Sabrina objected, staring up defiantly at Finbar's
"I know a place where we'll be much more comfortable,"
Finbar purred, then carried Sabrina away, breaking into a trot
as he weaved between the massive oaks.
Sabrina continued staring up at Finbar's face. And
then you'll untie me, right? she hoped.
The jogging journey lasted several minutes, but was smooth and
in no way jarring... not that Sabrina had a lot of experience
being carried around by bipedal hunks with goat legs.
They came to what was either a large stream or a small river and
Finbar accelerated into a full run and leaped across
the flowing water... and landed on a small, forested island.
Sabrina blinked and looked around. Tucked between the
trunks of two oaks was a generous lean-to with a frame of stout
branches and a living roof of moss, ferns, and shade-loving
wildflowers. Underneath was more moss, and when Finbar
gently laid her on the green carpet she realized it was a large
bed of moss, soft, thick, fragrant (in an earthy sort of
way), and as comfortable as her guestroom bed back in Nimue's
A wineskin hung from a stubby side-branch on one of the frame's
supports, and Sabrina watched as Finnbar lifted its carrying
strap off the branch and sat beside Sabrina. And
then—"Mrrrf!"—slid Sabrina's naked, bound and gagged body closer
and rested her gagged head and rope-yoked shoulders on what
Sabrina now realized was the fur of his otherwise naked lap.
Sabrina continued watching as Finbar uncorked the wineskin, held
it high high over his head, and shot a stream of dark liquid
into his open mouth with unerring precision. He then
lowered his arms, re-corked the skin, and dropped it to the
side. It landed on the moss with a gurgling slosh.
He then smiled down at his wide-eyed guest, reached behind her
head, and began unknotting the thongs of her gag's
harness. The web of harness melted away, the muzzle went
slack, and he plucked the now slimy leather plug from Sabrina's
With a grimace of disgust, Finbar balled the muzzle, harness,
and into a compact wad and threw it towards the surrounding
waters with all his strength. Then, his smile returned.
Sabrina was busy licking her lips and swallowing to be sure, but
she thought she heard her former gag land in the river/stream
with a splash. Good riddance!
Smiling once again, Finbar uncorked the wineskin and held it
high. "Open your pretty mouth, little witch," he purred.
"W-what?" Sabrina sputtered, then realized his intent.
"Oh." She licked her lips and swallowed, then opened her
mouth—and immediately a stream of cool, delicious wine shot into
her mouth! Whatever it was—possibly some sort of fortified
red wine?—it tasted infinitely better that
gremlin-cured leather. The stream stopped and she
swallowed. This stuff has a kick. Definitely
fortified, Sabrina decided (not that she had a lot of
experience as a drinker), but sweet, with just a hint of a
slightly tart aftertaste. Yummy.
"Again," Finbar suggested (ordered).
Sabrina opened her mouth and once again it was filled with cool
wine. The stream stopped and she swallowed, but this time,
Finbar made an "error" and a thimbleful of wine splashed onto
her right nipple and dribbled down her breast.
"Oh, little witch!" Finbar gasped (still smiling) "forgive my
clumsiness." He then leaned close, extended his
distressingly long tongue, and began licking the breast in
Sabrina shivered in... shall we say... distress. "Stop,"
she whispered. Her nipples were now erect, both the one
being cleaned by Finbar's tongue and the wine-free nipple to its
left. "No," she moaned.
"There," Finbar purred, smiling broadly. "All
better. What is your name, pretty one?"
"S-Sabrina," Sabrina stammered, then cleared her throat. "Ahem,
I mean Sabrina. Sabrina Spellman." Her
nipples were still tingling, and she found herself smiling up at
her rescuer... or rather, smiling up at the handsome faun
who would be her rescuer if he ever got around to untying the
gremlin's ropes. She squirmed (suggestively) in Finbar's
furry lap. "Untie me," she quietly requested.
"Sabrina," Finbar sighed. "Such a pretty name." He
combed his strong, tan fingers through Sabrina's blond hair.
Sabrina shivered with delight. Finbar's touch was electric.
Finbar held the wineskin high. "Again," he purred.
Sabrina barely had time to open her mouth before the stream of
wine arrived. This time (or once again) Finbar's delivery
was less than perfect. A little wine splashed Sabrina's
lips and dribbled down her chin.
Finbar smiled, corked the wineskin and set it aside, then leaned
close and kissed Sabrina full on her wine-wet lips.
Sabrina shuddered and squirmed in her rope bonds. Finbar's
tongue was in her mouth and sliding against her own. And
if its touch was electric before, now it was downright galvanizing!
She found herself returning the kiss with abandon. His
hands were stroking her breasts and sliding across her tummy...
and between her legs... and the touch of his strong fingers as
he massaged her breasts, nipples and labia was quite literally magic!
♫ Tee-hee-hee! ♫
A fairy was hovering in a blur of iridescent wings about three
feet above Finbar and Sabrina's upturned faces, just below the
roof of the lean to. Sabrina noted that the tiny naked
fairy wasn't glowing, like the ones she'd seen last night.
Or maybe they glow all the time, she posited, but
it's only noticeable after dark.
Finbar rolled his eyes. "Go away, Peony!" he
♫ Tee-hee-hee! Naughty, naughty Finbar!
Finbar heaved a sigh, sat upright, smiled down at Sabrina, and
once again began combing her hair with his fingers. "The
Lady asked me to explain something to you, Pretty Witch
Sabrina," he said with a wistful smile.
Sabrina gazed up at Finbar's handsome face. "The
Lady? You mean Nimue?"
Finbar nodded. "Listen carefully, Sabrina. There are
many different kinds of fey, and a few have chosen to exist in
the human realm, in your realm, at least for a
while. They take many different forms, and some can change
their forms at will. Many have powers, and some have a
habit of feeding upon the worship of gullible humans.
Think about this. Thus speaks The Lady, and The Lady is
"I... I don't understand," Sabrina said quietly, her blue eyes
gazing up at Finbar.
"Think upon The Lady's message," Finbar purred, then eased
Sabrina off his lap and fully onto the soft, green moss.
He stood, smiled (leered) down at Sabrina's naked, rope-bound
form for several seconds... then turned and bounded away, taking
a running leap across the flowing river and rapidly disappearing
into the early morning forest.
"Finbar, come back!" Sabrina shouted after the now absent faun.
She twisted and squirmed in her bonds. They remained as
inescapable as ever. "You forgot to untie me," she added
rather weakly. At least he removed that nasty gag,
she thought, then gazed at the still quite full wineskin next to
her on the moss. And gave me a drink. She
frowned. Now I remember. Both fauns and satyrs
have goat legs and goat horns, but in addition, satyrs are horny.
Finbar is definitely a satyr.
Meanwhile, the fairy had landed on a convenient branch sticking
out from the front edge of the lean-to's roof. She was
swinging her naked legs and smiling down at Sabrina.
"Can you untie me, Peony?" Sabrina begged.
♫ Tee-hee-hee-heh! ♫ Peony giggled. ♫
Silly-pretty-witch! ♫ She held up her tiny hands and
spread wide her tiny fingers. ♫ Toooo small!
Sabrina heaved a sigh, then briefly struggled, again. The
gremlin-ropes were still holding fast, and with her ankles
hobbled, she'd have to wade into the swift flowing waters of the
stream to escape Finbar's island. She looked up at the
fairy overhead. "So... how do I get free?"
♫ Tee-hee-hee-hee-hee! ♫ Peony giggled with delight.
♫ Silly-pretty-witch! Wake-up! ♫
Sabrina frowned. "What the hell do you mean by—"
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ zzzzzzz ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
screamed as she sat bolt upright and the covers fell away from
her body, exposing her breasts. She was back in her guest
bedroom in Nimue's cottage, and it was full night. Sabrina
blinked and stared into the near-darkness, then her brows
knitted in an angry scowl.
"Son of a bitch!"
|An Entanglement of Witches
| Chapter 4