by Van © 2004
		Chapter 10

Dallas was in total darkness, using her fingers and hands to make a detailed inspection of her dungeon cell.  She slowly worked her way from left to right and up and down, her digits gliding over the rough surface of the crudely dressed stones.  Steel manacles and fetters chained her wrists and ankles; and her steel collar, belt, and the bands on her upper arms also remained; but at some point her brank and gag had disappeared, as had her breast cups and loin shield.

One circuit of her cell complete, she surmised her prison was a rough square, each wall about twelve to fifteen feet in length.  The ceiling height was something under six feet.  The door was centered on one wall, a timber construction with numerous dully pointed iron spikes studding its surface.  The floor was covered with old but more or less clean straw.  There was a drain covered by heavy iron bars in the center of the cell, and high on the wall opposite the door was a narrow barred slit.  A gentle, warm breeze blew from the slit and towards the drain.  The slow-moving air was damp, and had a faint, curious odor, reminiscent of hot iron in a coal fire.  Finally, Dallas found a pitcher of fired clay and a bowl with a wooden cover: water and stale bread.

Dallas sat in the straw, her back to the wall opposite the door, and broke the bread into small chunks.  She poured a little water into the bowl, let the bread soak for a few minutes, then ate the resulting porridgy mass.  The bread was surprisingly tasty, but that may have been from the added sauce of her hunger.

She rested for several minutes after her simple meal, then resumed her inspection.  The stones of the walls, ceiling, and floor were irregular in size and shape, crudely flat on their inward faces, and apparently set without mortar.  As her hands groped, Dallas made note of any unusual shapes or cavities, anything which might give her fingers purchase.  

She came to a roughly triangular stone wedged between two very large stones and above two that were somewhat smaller.  It was low enough on the wall that she could sit in the straw, grip either side with the tips of her fingers, plant her feet on either side, and use the full strength of her entire body to pull.  She sat in the straw, took a deep breath, and pulled... and pulled... and pulled, until her back ached and her fingertips were cut and sore; then she pulled some more.  Finally, after an especially prolonged and arduous effort, she heard a tiny crack, and something the size of a pebble rattled down the wall and fell into the straw.

Panting from her labors, Dallas found the pitcher of water and took a drink.  As the cool water slid down her throat a thought occurred.  It was risky, as she didn't know when or even if her water supply would be replenished, but it was best to strike while she had her full strength.  She returned to the triangular stone, taking the pitcher with her.  She sat in the straw, filled her mouth with water, kissed the joint in the wall at the apex of the stone, and spat water as far as she could into the crack.  She did this three more times, as quickly as she could, then planted her feet, grabbed the stone, and heaved.  Nothing happened.   Old gods, new gods, and the One God help me! she prayed, and heaved again.

This time the stone moved!  It moved a good inch!  Dallas spit another mouthful of water into the crack, and heaved.  Slowly but surely she drew the stone from the wall.  Her eyes were clinched tightly closed with concentration and sweat was rolling down her face.  She had to dry her hands in the straw more than once so she could continue to get a good grip.  Finally, the stone thudded to the floor and Dallas rolled it to the side.

She wiped her brow and opened her eyes... and was surprised to find a faint golden glow illuminating her cell.  It was coming from the gap she had just opened in the wall, of course.  She looked through, but found she could see very little.  The light was very weak, the chamber beyond very large, and the source was not in her line of sight. She could see that the two stones below the one she had just pulled were regular in shape, or appeared to be on the sides that were visible.  She anointed their seams with her remaining water, sat in the straw, and tugged on the left stone.  With effort it lifted and slid forward.  The remaining stone followed, although the young serving girl nearly exhausted herself with the effort.

Dallas lay back in the straw until her breathing returned to normal, then crawled forward to the glowing opening.  Her shoulders just cleared the rough walls, but she had to wiggle on her side to clear her hips.  She slithered through... and found herself in a circular chamber many times the size of her former cell.  Suspended from the center of the domed ceiling was a long chain, and suspended from that chain was what appeared to be a lantern of glass and iron.  It was the source of the dim golden light bathing the chamber.

Dallas came closer.  The lantern was a spherical cage of iron bars, with a glass globe bulging through the gaps between.  Obviously the cage had been constructed first and the molten glass blown between the bars.  Dallas had seen such a device only once before—trade goods at the fair.  It had come from far off Tyrrhenia, had been hideously expensive, and had only been a couple of hands across.   This lantern was several times that size, large enough for Dallas to embrace with her arms flung wide.

The glass had a copper tint, and was thick and riddled with tiny, seed-sized bubbles.  Dallas couldn't really see what it contained, just faint curtains of rippling light, distortions of whatever was glowing within.  She put her face close to the globe... and gasped in wonder.  

Inside, standing proud and erect, was a tiny woman!

She had long, dark, curly hair, fair skin, was dressed in an exquisite, dark red gown... and was beautiful.  She also had wings!  They were folded down her back, and were iridescent panes, like the wings of a dragonfly.  She was the source of the light.  She glowed with a golden aura that seemed to come less from within than from around her magical being.  "A færy!" Dallas whispered.  "They are real!"

The tiny captive smiled (sending a thrill of joy through Dallas' body).  "So..." she said, her child-like, soprano voice muffled by the thick glass, "you are the one that has come.   This is the future that shall unfold.  What is your name, youngster?"

"I, I'm called Dallas."

"Dallas..." the færy repeated.  "A pretty name for a pretty girl."

"Thank you," Dallas whispered, blushing at the compliment.  "What is your name, if I may ask."

The færy laughed.  "You may not!" she answered.  "I have little power at the moment, but I will not give what is left to the first human that asks, no matter how pretty."

"I only ask how I may address you," Dallas responded.  "I don't want your power... unless..."  She walked a slow circle around the færy's lantern prison.  There was an iron and glass gate on the far side, hinged on one side and closed on the other with a hasp.  A length of iron wire was threaded through the hasp and looped back on itself to form a complex knot.

As Dallas studied the knot, the tiny prisoner studied her.  "You may call me Mæve," the færy said finally.  "It is a name to which I will answer, but is not my true name."

Dallas took hold of the wire and gave it a tentative tug.  It held firm, and the lantern shimmied and shook on its long chain.  Mæve hovered in mid-air, her wings a blur of rainbow light.  "Sorry," Dallas muttered, grabbing the lantern with both hands to stop it from rocking.

"Do what you must," Mæve said.  "You cannot harm me."

Dallas frowned.  The wire was thick, but it was soft iron, and should be brittle enough to twist and break, if only she could grasp it properly.  Then it came to her: "My chains are steel!" she whispered, then wrapped the links joining her manacles around the knot, took up the slack, and turned her entire body, her arms raised above her head.  The chain was twisted on itself, but the wire was still intact.  She turned again... then a third time... and this time she heard a snap.  She unwrapped her chain and found the wire had twisted and broken from the stress, just as she hoped it would.  She pulled the remnant from the hasp and opened the tiny door.

Mæve flew from the cage and made several rapid circles of the room, laughing and spinning.  Dallas watched, laughing herself.  Finally, the tiny wonder hovered before Dallas, gazing at her with smiling gratitude.  "Thank you, Dallas," she said, and executed a stately bow, one hand holding the hem of her gown, the other extended in a graceful gesture.  Her tiny feet were bare, and on pointe.

Dallas bowed in return, feeling clumsy in her nakedness and chained captivity.  "Wasn't Mæve a queen?" she asked.

The færy's smile turned somewhat coy.  "Mæve is a queen," she answered, "but I never said I was that Mæve."

Dallas gave the tiny, winged beauty a careful look... then bowed again.  "Your Majesty," she whispered.

Mæve laughed, then settled to the stone floor and sat cross-legged, arranging the skirts of her gown.  "Please, be at ease," she told the giant human looming before her.  Dallas settled to the ground in a rattle of chains, folding her legs to the side (too embarrassed to sit cross-legged in her nudity).  "You did not try to bargain," Mæve observed.  "You didn't make me promise anything before you freed me from my prison of all these many long years."

Dallas stared at the floor for several long seconds.  "I... I will free any prisoner I find in this awful place," she said finally.  "If I missed a chance at reward... so be it.  Right is right."

Mæve's smile brightened.  She flew into the air, kissed Dallas' forehead, then settled back to the ground before Dallas realized she had started to move.  "Dallas, daughter of Rosevear, daughter of Tean, I name thee Færy Friend, now and to the seventh generation."

Dallas felt a tingling in her hands.  She looked down and watched as the cuts and scrapes from her battle with the stone wall healed themselves.  Her lips trembled and she wiped a tear from her right eye.  "Thank you," she whispered.  If legend was true, this was a reward beyond gold!  She wiped another tear, then focused on her chains.  "Uh... can you—?"

Mæve shook her head.  "Sorry.  "I am powerless against cold iron," she explained, "which is why a twist of wire could hold me captive."

Dallas nodded.  "I understand," she mumbled.  "What now?"

Mæve smiled, spun on her heel, and gestured across the room.  On the far wall a heavy timber door studded with iron spikes was set in the wall.  The færy's glow brightened, and as Dallas watched, the wood of the door dripped sap and sprouted leafy tendrils.  There was a low, groaning sound followed by several sharp snaps, and the stones of the door frame split and tumbled to the floor.  The spikes shook and fell, pinging and rolling on the flat stones.  Finally the timbers, now with branches and green leaves, flew apart and rolled to either side.  The ruined doorway gaped like an open mouth.

Mæve turned to face Dallas.  The dark smile on her tiny, beautiful face made Dallas very glad she was her friend.  "What now?" the grinning færy repeated.  "I'll tell you: justice, vengeance... and pleasure."

It had been a very long two months.  New York, Toronto, Boston, Washington, Philadelphia, Atlanta...  At some point it had all faded into an endless procession of airports, airplanes, taxis, hotel rooms, book stores, and an endless stack of books for her to sign.  Only the fans had made it bearable... that and the hotel swimming pools and gyms.  The final stop of the tour had been Powell's Books in Portland... and now she was nearly home.

The airport taxi pulled off State Road 53 and roared down the private road leading to her cottage.  As they approached the Behr compound, Kelly smiled and leaned forward.  "You can drop me off here," she told the driver.

The driver glanced at the Behr's address sign, then at his passenger in the rearview mirror.  "You sure?"

"My place is the next down the road," Kelly explained.  "They'll get me home."

Her single suitcase, garment bag, laptop carrier, and raincoat were deposited on the porch of the main house, the driver accepted a generous tip, and the taxi sped away.  Kelly's publisher was paying for all aspects of the tour, and the tip would come out of her per diem.   Kelly rang the doorbell, mildly surprised none of the Behrs had emerged to greet her.  It had been cloudy all day, and finally the promised rain was beginning to fall.   Don't tell me nobody's home, Kelly thought, watching the falling drops build to a mild torrent.  The curtains were pulled across the narrow, vertical windows on either side of the door, and the peephole in the door itself was useless for looking from the outside in.  Well... I can always wait it out, walk home and drive back for my stuff.  Kelly's raincoat would protect her olive business suit and ivory blouse, but she had nothing to keep the rain off her hair, and wasn't thrilled at the prospect of hiking the wet, unimproved road to her house in heels.

She was about to ring the doorbell again when the latch clicked and the door opened a crack.  Kelly opened the screen door and gave the door a push.  "Hello?"  The door slowly opened on well-oiled hinges... and there, waiting in the entryway, was Debbie.

The youngest Behr was dressed in jeans, a pink sweatshirt, and duct tape... lots of duct tape.  Her hands were behind her back, fingers interlaced, and mummified up to her forearms.  Tight multi-layered bands pinned her arms to her body at the waist, below her breasts, and above.  More tape wrapped her legs, above the knees and around the ankles.  Her feet were bare and a baby blue ribbon was tied around her big toes, secured with a big floppy bow.  A matching ribbon secured the end of the single long braid of her dark blonde hair.  Her blue eyes smiled above the broad, wide strip of tape plastered over her lips.

Kelly smiled back, shaking her head in mock disgust.  "You Behr women," she muttered, walking a slow circle around Debbie as the bound and gagged blonde stood perfectly still.  "You home alone?" Kelly asked, "guarding the fort?"

Debbie nodded her head and mumbled several totally unintelligible remarks.

Kelly reached out and slowly, carefully peeled the tape from her protégé's lips.  The tape pulled and distorted the prisoner's lips and lower face as it reluctantly surrendered its grip.  "There," Kelly purred.  "Start over."

"Dorey's in Seaside buying fabric, and Dawn... she didn't say exactly where she was going.  She just taped me up and left.  She either went with Dorey or is in her workshop doodling furniture designs on her Mac."

Kelly frowned.  She was disappointed Dawn was absent, as seeing Dawn had been the point of asking to be dropped off at the Behrs' in the first place. She was also surprised her lover had left The Brat alone and helpless.  "She abandoned you like this?"

"No biggie," Debbie responded, hopping to an overstuffed chair and sitting.  She nodded towards a nearby sofa and Kelly sat as well.  The blonde captive leaned forward and continued in a conspiratorial whisper.  "There are a dozen ways I can get out of this, if I have to," she explained.  "Sharp things all over the house."

Kelly was unappeased.  "This is reckless and stupid," she muttered.  "I'm going to find Dawn and give her a piece of my mind."

"Among other things," Debbie mumbled under her breath."

"What?"

"Nothing," Debbie said.  "Did you get my last e-mail? ...last night?"

Kelly sighed, then carefully suppressed a smile.  "Are you familiar with the term 'deus ex machina'?"

Debbie gasped in outrage.  "Oh!  Unfair!  Mæve is not deus ex machina!  I'm not just going to have her flutter through the tower and set everything right.  First Mæve and Dallas are going to defeat a guardian demon, then they'll free Duana and she'll have to battle the giant ants, still naked and tiny, of course, and armed only with a tiny sword; then they—"

"And what's happening to the poor princess during all this?" Kelly inquired.

"Oh, that's what's keeping the Sorceress busy!" Debbie explained.  "I'll intercut a series of scenes with the Sorceress torturing Kellan on various Diabolical Devices, causing her pain and pleasure, and collecting her, uh, vital fluids, meaning sweat and stuff.  It's the key ingredient for the spell, you see.  And she'll scrape her skin with the blade of the feather and direct the drops in a glass vial with a funnel top; all while Kellan's being stretched on the rack or riding the horse, or bent over and clamped in a pillory and stocks with a clockwork machine sending an ivory phallus in and out of her—"

"Debbie," Kelly interrupted.

"Yeah?"

"You're a very disturbed young lady," Kelly said, perfectly deadpan.  "No wonder your sisters keep you tied up as much as possible."

"It'll work," Debbie said, squirming in her bonds with enthusiasm.  "I'll make it work!"

"I'm sure you will," Kelly responded.

"Oh, that reminds me," Debbie said, then struggled to her bound and toe-tied feet, hopped over to Kelly, flopped down next to her on the sofa, and planted a kiss on the smiling redhead's cheek.  "Dawn says it's okay for us to play."

"What?"

"Squishy stuff!" Debbie explained, kissing Kelly again.

Kelly blushed and started to rise, but Debbie squirmed onto her lap before she could plant her feet.  "Debbie!"

"Kiss me, you fool!" the bound youngster giggled.  "I've always wanted to say that."

Kelly fended off Debbie's next attempt to plant lips on her furiously blushing face.  "You little scamp," she scolded, trying not to smile (and failing miserably).  "Keep your 'squishy stuff' to yourself."

Debbie settled her head on Kelly's lap and smiled up at her mentor.  "Playing hard to get, huh?  I'll just wait 'til the next time Dawn has you tied up and helpless, sneak in, and—"

"Thanks for the warning, Brat!" an alto voice growled.

Kelly and Debbie looked towards the hall doorway—and gasped.

Dawn was standing a few feet away, a devilish smile on her beautiful face.  Tall thigh boots over skintight leather pants hugged her feet and legs.  A corset-tight leather jerkin was laced around her waist and torso, lifting and accentuating her bulging breasts.  A sleeveless, very low-cut blouse of coarse, natural cotton was under the jerkin.  Leather bracers on each wrist, a belt slung low on her left hip, and a sheathed broadsword completed her ensemble.  The leather was all a gleaming, subtly mottled brown.  Her dark blonde hair was combed back and tied in a tight ponytail with a leather thong.  She was Peter Pan, Robin Hood, and the Crimson Pirate all rolled into one, only very female.  Several neat coils of mottled brown, cotton rope were in her left hand, which she dropped to the floor.  She then strolled into the room and stood before Kelly and Debbie, hands on hips.  "You're early," she accused Kelly.

"I caught an earlier flight," Kelly explained.

"I was going to be waiting for you at your place," Dawn said, "in about an hour.  Then I saw the taxi drop you off here.  Talk about service."

Kelly stood, dumping Debbie on the floor, stepped over the prostrate captive, embraced Dawn, and planted a kiss on the grinning Sword Maiden.

"Ow!" Debbie complained from the floor.

"Sorry," Kelly muttered, then returned to the serious business of inspecting Dawn's teeth with her tongue.  "I missed you," she whispered, finally breaking the kiss.

"I missed you too, Kel," Dawn whispered back, then glanced down at her little sister.  "What happened to your gag?" she demanded.

"Kelly happened," Debbi explained.  "She took it off so she could kiss me."

"I... I did not!  You kissed me," Kelly objected.

Dawn broke the embrace, opened an end table drawer, and produced a roll of duct tape.  She tore off a seven inch strip, knelt, and plastered it over Debbie's smiling lips.  "Brat!" she scolded.  "I ought to take you out to the barn and introduce you to my RenFaire version of The Wheel, only it's not quite finished..."  She shifted her gaze to Kelly, and her smile turned decidedly feral.  "...and I've made other plans."

Kelly felt a thrill of delicious dread as Dawn drew her sword.  "Wh-what are you going to—?"

"Silence, Redhair!" Dawn barked, placing the point of the sword under Kelly's chin.  She reached behind her back, produced a linen handkerchief, and tossed it to Kelly.  "Wipe that smile off your face and stuff that in your mouth."

"Dawn!" Kelly complained with a nervous laugh, then gulped when Dawn used the sword to lift her chin.

"Do it!"

The thrill returned in spades as Kelly balled the handkerchief and crammed it in her mouth.  Playacting?  Yes.  Melodramatic?   Hell yes!  And I love every second of it!

Meanwhile, Dawn had produced a long, narrow length of light linen, something between a scarf and a bandage.  She tossed it to Kelly.  "The center goes between your teeth.  Wrap the ends at least three times, and tie it in the back with a nice square knot.  Make sure it's under your hair, and make it tight.   I want to see those rosy, freckled cheeks bulge."

Kelly followed her captor's orders, making sure the narrow, somewhat elastic bands of cloth were stretched taut and smooth before she tied the final knot.  "M'mmf," she mewed, and knew herself to be well gagged.

"You have a choice, Redhair," Dawn announced, her sword never wavering.  "You can strip... or I'll bind your hands and slice that outlandish costume from your body."

Playing her part (the terrified, helpless damsel) to the hilt, Kelly forced a piteous moan past her gag, and glanced down at Debbie.

The sword tip nudged her chin.  "She's not going to rescue you, Redhair," Dawn said with a gloating sneer.  "No one's going to rescue you."  She let the sword drop to her side, but it remained in her hand.  "Strip!"

Kelly's fingers fumbled with the buttons of her jacket, pulled it off, and tossed it on the back of an overstuffed chair.  Her blouse was next, then she kicked off her heels and removed her skirt.  Her cover reduced to bra, pantyhose, and panties, Kelly stood with her left hand shielding her crotch and an arm across her breasts, blushing furiously above her gag (and trying to ignore the growing wetness between her legs).

"To the skin, Redhair," Dawn purred.

Kelly moaned again, and reached behind to unhook her bra.  She shrugged out of the flimsy garment and tossed it on the chair, then pulled down her pantyhose and panties together, peeling the tangle of sheer nylon and frilly lace off each leg, lifting her feet one at a time and being careful not to lose her balance.  The last of her clothes were tossed on the pile, and she resumed her modest pose.

Her captor would have none of it.  "Hands on your head," she growled.  Kelly complied, still blushing, her nostrils flaring and breasts bobbing as she breathed, her nipples erect and pointing.  "I see you really are a Redhair," Dawn cooed, nudging Kelly's auburn pubic patch with the tip of the sword.  "Kneel."  Kelly settled to her knees.  "Ankles crossed," Dawn ordered, "and put your weight back on your heels."  Again, Kelly complied.

Kelly watched as Dawn sheathed her sword and retrieved her coils of rope.  The nude redhead fidgeted and shivered, aware that Debbie was leering at her, her big blue eyes darting from Kelly's breasts, to her sex, and back again.

Dawn knelt behind Kelly.  "Give me any trouble, Redhair," she whispered, "and you'll regret it."  She selected a length of rope, pulled Kelly's hands from atop her head to behind her back, and set to work.

Kelly's hands were folded against her back, forearm against forearm and each wrist at its opposite elbow.  Carefully compacted and well-hitched bands of rope tightened to enforce the arrangement.  More rope yoked her shoulders and pinned her upper arms to her torso.  Neat, multiple bands passed above and below her breasts, and everything was hitched between her arms and sides, snugging the ropes tight and secure.  The final knot was tied through the shoulder yoke at the nape of her neck, then Dawn forced her forward and onto her stomach.  Her crossed ankles were pressed against her buttocks and single strands of rope looped left to right, top to bottom, and cinched tight.  Another single strand was looped around her waist, between her ankles, and tied off at her shoulders, enforcing a stringent hog-tie.

Kelly squirmed in her bonds and watched as Dawn rolled Debbie onto her stomach and tied the ribbon binding her toes to the ribbon at the end of her pigtail, hog-tying her as well.  "That should hold you two for a while," she gloated, stood, and left the room.  Now both captives squirmed in their bonds, and knew themselves to be completely helpless.

Dawn returned with a cell phone held to her right ear.  Apparently waiting for a call to connect, she sorted through Kelly's clothes with her left hand, eventually separating her prisoner's panties from her pantyhose.  She gave the skimpy garment a delicate sniff (causing Kelly's blush to return in spades).  "Hi," she said into the phone, ignoring her captives.  "It's me.  You gonna be home soon?"

Kelly surmised Dawn was talking to her older sister.

"Good," Dawn continued, smiling at Debbie, "'cause I've done something cruel and unusual to The Brat and am about to abandon her to her fate...  No, nothing dangerous, just uncomfortable.  Feel free to take your time...  Okay, I'll be you-know-where...  Thanks.  Bye."

She snapped the phone closed and tossed it on the chair atop Kelly's clothes, then knelt beside Debbie and retied the ribbons binding her toes to her hair.  She folded several inches at the end of the pigtail back on itself and whipped the ribbon around the resulting bend, creating a sturdy lashing point.  The ends of the toe ribbon was then tied through the bend and braided around the fold, forcing the squealing, wiggling Debbie into an even more stringent and now quite inescapable hog-tie.

Dawn released Kelly from her hog-tie, helped her to her feet, and tied the rope around her throat as a lead.  She then retrieved the redhead's panties, turned them inside out, and dropped them to the carpet before her little sister's face.  "There.  Something for you to sniff while you wait for Dorey to come home.  It's as close as you're gonna get to releasing your horn-dog tendencies... at least today."   She took the end of Kelly's lead and pulled her towards the back of the house.  "Don't worry about the Brat," she whispered in Kelly's ear.  "Dorey's almost at the turnoff.  She'll be home in less than five."

Kelly's last sight of Debbie was the bound youngster looking up at her with longing eyes... then they were in the kitchen, through a side door, and out on an enclosed porch.  

It was still raining.  Dawn knelt and placed open-toed sports sandals on Kelly's feet, carefully adjusting the velcro straps for a secure fit.  Kelly looked down at the brown and black sandals, out at the falling rain, then forced a questioning whine past her gag.  Dawn smiled and pulled a hooded cape from a peg, donned it with an elegant swirl, secured the front clasp, and raised the hood.  She then retrieved the end of Kelly's lead and opened the door to the very wet and somewhat cool outside world.  "I have a surprise present waiting for you," she explained with a wink, then stepped through the door.  She tugged on the lead and pulled her naked, reluctant captive after her, out into the pelting rain.