by Van ©2020
		Chapter 4

Hermione's 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?

Tap-tap-tap!

Oh, that.

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 books.

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 grown 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!

"Mrrrmpfh!"

Cassie opened 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 side.

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 stretch.

"Ahhhhh!"

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 of tea.

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 face.

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 she couldn't!

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 huffed.

"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 there."

"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 sounds, 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 air.

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 light pink.

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, of course."

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 happy.

"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 tea."

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 up eventually.

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 you wait.

Sabrina had 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 sorely lacking.

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 gagged body.

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, Finbar."

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 effortless ease.

"Mrrrfh!" Sabrina objected, staring up defiantly at Finbar's handsome visage.

"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 cottage.

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 mouth.

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 question.

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 growled.

♫ 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 wise."

"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 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

"AHHHHH!" Sabrina 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!"