TALES OF THE FOXWOOD B&B _¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯by Van © 2009		_
		Chapter 6

The Green Witch of the Dell
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Pilar watched as Cricket and Cody dragged Ashley from the stage and to her "horrible fate"—a night of Hot Monkey Love with Mitch.  Ashley does that whole Xena-before-she-met-Gabrielle thing so very well, she thought, the Beautiful Warrior with a dark past, but not really evil... or as hard as she pretends to be.  She's perfect!  And Mitch makes a pretty good Evil Lord, even if he is a little fresh with the hands.  She made a mental note to "discuss" the topic with him at the first opportunity.

Jillian was also watching Ashley's departure.  A satisfied smile curling her coral lips, she finally shifted her gaze to the two remaining captives.  "I suppose we might as well get on with the selection," she purred, then turned to face Kayley.  "Madam Sorceress," she said, favoring the cloaked figure with a polite bow.  "I apologize for Lord Carleton's insistence on precedence and thank you for your sufferance.  Petty Lords can be jealous of what they perceive to be their right of place."

"A trivial matter," Kayley answered, rising from her table.  "His selection was never in doubt, and does not conflict with mine."  Her indigo robe swirled and fluttered as she approached the stage, and the arcane symbols embroidered on its dark silk glimmered and flashed.  She mounted the steps and passed the Saxon without pause, then turned and faced Pilar, with a dramatic (appropriately dramatic) swirl of her cloak and hair.

"You don't wish to even consider the blonde?" Lady Foxwood inquired.

Kayley turned and gazed at Hannah's stretched, helpless form.  "A strong aura," she said, "but the wrong aura.  She's a pretty enough thing; however, unlike the Earl, I'm not here solely for pleasure.  Still..."  She took a couple of steps to the side, until she was in front of Hannah, reached out, and cupped the blond captive's sex.  "She is a pretty thing... and might prove useful in other ways."

Hannah yelped through her gag, as if she'd been shocked, then began shivering in her bonds.

Kayley smiled, extended her index finger, and began rubbing the blond captive's clitoris, using a light, circular motion.  The Saxon Maiden's thigh muscles clenched and she moaned through her gag. 

Abruptly, Kayley withdrew her hand, then gave her finger a slow, delicate lick.  "No... my supply of Maiden's Honey is adequate, for the moment."

Hannah glared at Kayley, then blushed and turned her face away.

Kayley chuckled.  "Hmm... if this one is still unsold at the quarter moon, I might return and purchase her.  I can always find use for a few extra vials."  She cupped Hannah's breasts with both hands and gave them a gentle squeeze.  "I know a charm that will make these delightful udders swell and become productive.  Maiden's Milk is a critical component of many powerful potions, and its efficacy is greatest when fresh."

"I'm sure other maidens will be available," Lady Foxwood purred, "if this one is not."

"Yes," Kayley answered.  "You never seem to have trouble restocking your inventory."  She stepped back in front of Pilar.  "For tonight... this one serves my purpose."

Pilar shivered in her bonds.  Kayley's icy blue (incredibly gorgeous) eyes seemed to drill into her soul.  And now that she was close, Pilar could see a pencil-thin line of iridescent, turquoise-blue paint running across Kayley's cheekbones, tracing the bottom margin of her black raccoon-mask makeup.  The effect was... eerie... and greatly enhanced her other-worldly appearance.

Her Ladyship made a graceful gesture. "She is—"

"Pilar," Kayley interrupted, "third daughter of Taghdu, the healer, midwife, and cottage witch of Tadmor of the Golden Trees, a minor village in the foothills of the A'Haggar Mountains, east of Quarghasset."  She reached out and cupped Pilar's sex, as she had with Hannah. 

Lady Foxwood frowned.  "How do you—?"

"Nothing is hidden from one who has the sight of three eyes," Kayley intoned.  Her gaze shifted to the Mistress of the Keep.  "Do not be alarmed, M'Lady," she said, with an amused smirk.  "Your charms protect you... for the most part."

She turned back to Pilar.  "You have always wondered why your mother encouraged you to leave, after you came of age.  Is that not so, Pilar?"  She began sliding her hand.  "She feared your power—but not in a jealous way.  She feared what it might call down upon your village.  The elementals of the Great Desert are attracted to fluxing powers, and your mother knew that if the both of you were to remain in the village, it would be like a summoning.  At the very least, the winds would dry the fields and strip the leaves from the orchards.  At worst, sandstorms would obliterate the entire valley.  One of you would have to leave, and with a village and family depending on her, Taghdu had no real choice, did she?  It broke her heart, but she had to send you away."

(Pilar made a mental note to compliment Connie on her excellent embellishment of Pilar the Courtesan Dancer's back story, or she tried to, anyway.  It was becoming increasingly difficult to concentrate on anything other than Kayley's hand.)

The Sorceress continued caressing Pilar's labia, and nudging Pilar's clitoris with her index finger.  "Your power is why you dance, Pilar," she whispered, as her hand worked its magic.  "When you dance, you please the Wind Elementals, and they, in turn, feed your gift.  Thus it is with all talents.  Thus it has always been.  Earth, Water, Fire, Air—sometimes acting in concert, and sometimes alone."  Her hand was now moving in earnest, and Pilar reacted, moaning through her gag and tugging on her bonds.  "They use us and reward us, Pilar, until... finally... they use us up."

Pilar's eyes were clenched tightly closed.  Her breasts were heaving and her nostrils flaring above her gag as she continued to struggle.  She became aware of a whistling sound, as if the winds of which the Sorceress had spoken were blowing through the Keep.  It grew louder, and the air around her naked body began to stir.  Am I imagining this? she wondered.  Is it all in my head?  She opened her eyes and found that the lights in the Common Room had dimmed, and the Elven globes set in sconces along the walls and placed as footlights along the stage were seething with blue and green tendrils of eldritch fire.  Loose strands of her hair, as well as the Sorceress' hair, as well as Her Ladyship's veil, were lifting and wafting in the strange breeze.

"The power of the wind, Pilar," Kayley said, her voice only just carrying above the eerie, wailing noise.  "For you, it is the power of the wind, and only the wind."

Pilar screamed through her gag—and came—and the wind roared in her ears, and it seemed to be whispering her name!

And then it was over.  She hung in her bonds, spent and shivering.  The wind had departed as quickly as it had come, and the globes had returned to their former yellow-white glows.

"You would summon such an unpredictable force into my Keep?" Lady Foxwood demanded.

Kayley laughed.  "The Great Ones go where they will," she said, with a mocking smile.  "Besides, you ask Danu's children to turn your windmill, but begrudge them a small pleasure?"

Her Ladyship's smile returned.  "Well... when you put it that way."

"I'll take her," Kayley said, then turned and strode from the stage in a swirl of indigo silk.

"My retainers should return shortly," Lady Foxwood said, and followed.

"A brief delay is acceptable," the Sorceress responded.  She had reached her table.  Her eyes were on Pilar as she lifted her goblet so Alice could refill it from her ewer.

Pilar sighed through her gag and let her chin drop.  Damn! she thought.  Kayley is wicked good with that hand!  She swiveled her head towards the Saxon—and found the blonde looking back at her.  Pilar blushed (or perhaps her cheeks were still flushed from recent events) and turned back to the front.  Whatever Kayley has in mind, it's a pity she didn't buy both of us.  Por el amor de Dios that 'Saxon' is beautiful!

Into the Woods
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Several minutes later, Lady Foxwood's retainers returned, and Her Ladyship indicated Pilar with a graceful wave of the hand.  The fey pair mounted the stage and released the dancer from her manacles and shackles, but immediately bound her with hemp rope, using the same box-tie technique as her original captor, Ashley-the-Unfortunate-Amazon.  In addition, they tied her ankles about two feet apart, adding a vertical strand that linked to her wrist bonds and kept the hobble from dragging on the ground.  Next, her plug-gag and spider-gag were removed, but Pilar only had time to lick her lips a few times before a large wad of soft, coarsely woven linen was crammed into her mouth and a cleave-gag of narrowly folded cloth added to keep it in place.  Finally, a hemp noose was dropped over her head, to serve as collar and leash. 

Packaging for delivery complete, Pilar was led from the stage and the end of the neck rope placed in her new owner's hand.  The Sorceress gazed at Pilar and smiled, then shifted her gaze and nodded to the elves.  "Diol lle, mellomeamin," she purred.

"Lle creoso," the elves answered in unison, then bowed and stepped back.

Kayley nodded at Lady Foxwood.  "Our bargain is struck," she said.  "I shall renew and extend the outer shell of your Keep's curse-wall, as we agreed."

"May she serve you well," Her Ladyship responded, and curtsied.

With another swirl of indigo silk, the Sorceress turned and walked away.  The leash snapped taut and Pilar stumbled after her.

Apparently, the Sorceress knew her way around the Keep, for she unerringly led Pilar through the maze of ground floor corridors to a side entrance.  There was a pause while she knelt and placed moccasin-like slippers on Pilar's feet, then led her through the door and into the night.

And a dark night it was, moonless and clear.  Countless stars twinkled overhead.  The wind (Pilar's patron?) was stirring the tops of the trees, and down by the pond the frog chorus was in full voice.  Pilar shivered and felt goosebumps rising on her breasts, shoulders, and arms... but she knew this was as much in anticipation of the whatever lay ahead as a physiological response to the night chill.  And her hard nipples and the thrill shivering between her legs?  That was definitely anticipation.

Stride-by-stride—awkward, hobbled stride-by-stride, in Pilar's case—they left the Keep grounds, passed among the trees, and entered the forest.  As Pilar's eyes adjusted, she noticed that the mystical symbols on the Sorceress' robe were glowing with a pale green light, or perhaps the silver thread was catching the last of the light from the flickering "Elven Torch-Globes" of the Keep and her imagination was working overtime.  Pilar's new owner muttered a phrase under breath—and the glow of the symbols pulsed and brightened.  The eerie glow was now sufficient to light the path under their feet, but was still grossly insufficient to penetrate the darkness between the trees.

Pilar trudged after the Sorceress, following the shimmering robe.  The trail began to drop, leading them down into the valley.  They continued for several minutes... then Pilar began to notice a dim, greenish glow through the trees.

They came closer, and the glow resolved into a canvas pavilion nestled in a small clearing and lit from within.  Directly in front of the entrance was a roughly rectangular object of some sort, covered by a tarp.  It was irregular in shape but about eight by three by three feet in overall dimensions.  Pilar couldn't tell what it was.  The Sorceress stepped around the canvas covered lump, pulled the pavilion's entrance flap aside, and led the way inside.

It was a luxurious space.  The outer walls and canopy were plain canvas, but their interiors were draped in overlapping panels of thin, translucent silk.  They were a pleasing mix of forest colors, and, like the Sorceress' robe, were intricately woven with gold and silver thread.  Countless tiny, flickering Elven globes provided a warm glow, some dangling from a spiderweb network of light chains near the ceiling, and some hanging in strings between the outer walls and the interior drapes.  Lush carpets covered the floor, woven in the swirls and stylized renderings of leaves, vines, and animals favored by the Wood and Jungle Elves.  In the center of the pavilion was a fire pit lined with large, interlocking stones.  The Sorceress leaned over the pit, waved her hand above a small pile of wood—and it burst into flame.

Panniers and wooden trunks were scattered around the pavilion, together with jumbled piles of soft pillows and cushions.  The Sorceress led Pilar to one of these silky, padded nests, not far from the fire pit.  "Sit," she ordered.

It was an order Pilar found easy to obey.  Why shouldn't she get off her feet?  She watched as the Sorceress untied her leash, knelt close from behind, looped the hemp around her waist, and tied it off at the small of her back.  She tied a series of closely spaced knots, then pulled the rope between Pilar's legs, cleaving her butt cheeks and labia.  The Sorceress smelled of herbs and musk, and her fingers were strong and warm.  Pilar shivered as those fingers made intimate adjustments and tied the final knot, under her navel.  She looked up, and stared at the handful of stars shining through the smoke-hole in the roof of the pavilion.  She then lowered her gaze and watched the Sorceress remove her slippers and untie the rope linking her hobble to her wrist bonds.  Her captor hitched the linking strand through her crotch-rope, in the back, then pulled her ankles towards her butt, forcing her to fold her legs.  She then took out the slack and tied a final knot, somewhere between Pilar's shoulders and well beyond the reach of her fingers.  There was sufficient slack for Pilar to squirm and snuggle into the soft cushions, but she wouldn't be going anywhere until she was untied.

Pilar shivered in her bonds.  Gagged, box-tied, and now loosely hogtied, she was comfortable but helpless—deliciously helpless.

By this time, the fire had collapsed to a bed of glowing coals.  The Sorceress deployed an iron grill over half the fire pit, then opened a pannier and removed several small cloth-wrapped bundles and jars of hand-blown glass.  She set a ceramic pot directly on the coals, then began filling it with various broths and liquids, some thick and brown, and some clear.  She then began adding handfuls of already cleaned and chopped vegetables and herbs.

Pilar's empty stomach growled.  Maybe the Sorceress was brewing a magic potion, but whatever it was, it smelled delicious.  Her captor stirred the pot with a wooden spoon, occasionally pausing to taste the contents, and continued adding chopped herbs and various powders.  She's definitely cooking something! Pilar decided.  Her stomach growled, again, and her mouth began to water—above and beyond the drooling already being caused by her gag.

The Sorceress smiled (obviously aware of her captive audience-of-one's healthy appetite) and continued her culinary chores.  She opened another packet, unfolded an inner layer of large, green leaves, and began lifting skewers of meat chunks coated with a pale, green-flecked sauce, and placing them directly on the grill.  They sizzled and smoked as they touched the hot iron.

Pilar squirmed in her inescapable bonds and watched her owner alternate between stirring the pot and turning the skewers.  The pot was beginning to bubble and steam, and the meat chunks were taking on a nice char.  Oh, please let this not be a cruel trick, Pilar prayed.  Please let it be for me!  Finally, after several seemingly endless minutes (and a great deal more stomach growling) the Sorceress moved the pot off the coals, deftly removed the meat from the skewers and dropped them into the pot, then produced another cloth bundle.  She opened it, revealing a stack of palm-sized flat-bread rounds.  They were already baked, but she painted their surfaces with a mixture of oil, herbs, and what was probably butter, and dropped them on the grill.

Toasting the flat-breads took only a couple of minutes.  Then, the Sorceress deployed the folding legs of a wooden tray, placed it on the carpet in front of Pilar's helpless form, carried over the steaming pot, the bread, and a small wooden bowl, and settled onto the cushions, close beside her new acquisition.  She untied Pilar's cleave-gag, then plucked the wad of crumpled linen from her mouth.

Pilar licked her lips and worked her jaw as she watched the Sorceress move a few cushions to the side and lift back a flap of carpet, revealing a wooden hatch of some sort.  She lifted the hatch, and underneath was a small pit, lined with more wood and filled with crushed ice.  Nestled in the ice was an ornate glass bottle and a plain goblet of burnished silver.  She extracted both and set them on the tray, then restored the lid, carpet, and cushions.

The Sorceress locked eyes with Pilar as she deftly plucked the stopper from the bottle—it was in the shape a very realistic glass frog sitting on a very realistic glass lily pad—and poured a generous portion of a clear, pale green liquid into the goblet.  "Drink," she ordered, and held the goblet to Pilar's lips.

Another order Pilar found easy to obey—and the icy, green beverage was delicious.  It had a subtle, fruity flavor Pilar couldn't quite place—perhaps some kind of melon... or not—and it definitely had a kick.  "Thank you," she said, and accepted another sip.

"You are welcome, Pilar," the Sorceress purred, set the goblet on the tray, and spooned meat and vegetables into the wooden bowl.  She then tore a piece of toasted flat bread in half, and turned back to her captive guest.

"What may I call you?" Pilar inquired.  Her eyes were on the bowl, and her stomach was rumbling, again.

"You may not," the Sorceress answered.  Her tone was not unfriendly, but it was clear she expected to be obeyed.  "You will speak when spoken to, and I will not give you even the trivial power of a trivial name I have chosen for myself."  She half-folded the torn bread and used it to spoon a chunk of stew into Pilar's mouth.  "That may change..."  She scooped another dollop of stew and fed it to her captive.  "But for now, you will be silent.  Do you understand?"

Pilar nodded.  She was helpless, and her owner—her supposed owner—was obviously a witch of great power.  Feigned submission continued to be the prudent course.

"Eat," the Sorceress murmured.  "You will need your strength, Pilar."

Pilar almost opened her mouth to ask exactly what it was she was going to need her strength for—and that pesky thrill rippled through her rope-cleaved sex, again—but she remembered to keep her tongue.  She kept her mouth open, however, and accepted another bite of stew, followed by another sip of the green... whatever it was.  The meat (she wasn't quite sure of the variety) was melt-in-the-mouth tender, the vegetables were perfectly cooked, and the sauce... the sauce was heaven!

Once the meal was over—adequate, but Pilar could have eaten more—the Sorceress cleared away the tray and its contents, released Pilar from her loose hogtie, and led her towards the pavilion's entrance.  She opened and tied back the flaps, grabbed the tarp draped over the object near the threshold, and pulled it aside.

Pilar gasped, staring at what was now revealed.  It was a rack... or bondage frame... or a set of horizontal pillory and stocks... or all-of-the-above.  The head end was across the pavilion's threshold, and was more or less a conventional pillory, with padded wrist openings on either side of what was obviously a padded opening for the neck.  The section beyond was constructed from foot-wide, heavy timbers, and was in the shape of a loosely spreadeagled human body.  Its upper surface was padded and covered with leather, and attached to the end of each timber "leg" was a hinged pair of blocks with a single ankle opening.  They were padded, as well, like the openings of the pillory.

Pilar tugged and twisted her upper body, testing her inescapable rope bonds, then turned and focused on the Sorceress.  "Please," she begged, "don't hurt me."

The Sorceress would brook no defiance.  "You will be silent and will allow me to bind you in place.  Otherwise, I shall summon the Fire That Does Not Burn.  You will not enjoy the experience if you make me do that, but the end result will be the same."

Pilar swallowed, and nodded.  Damn, Kayley is playing her part perfectly, she thought.  I almost don't have to pretend to be afraid... just like I don't have to pretend to be her prisoner.  The Sorceress led Pilar around the frame and sat her down on the padded timbers.  Soon, she found her legs splayed, each of her ankles locked in a thick, heavy stock, and a thick leather strap buckled above each knee.  The padding was surprisingly comfortable.  The Sorceress began untying her upper body.  Pilar shivered as her crotch rope was removed, then stared out at the dark forest as the rest of the soft hemp slithered and melted away from her wrists, arms, and torso.  She stretched and rubbed her wrists as her owner lifted the top half of the heavy pillory.  She looked back at the waiting openings, swallowed, again, then shifted her gaze to the Sorceress' pale-blue eyes.

"Now, Pilar," the Sorceress ordered.

Pilar lay back and settled her neck and wrists in the appropriate openings.  The Sorceress lowered the timber and it locked in place with a solid thud and the click of bolts sliding into sockets.  The fit was tight, but not uncomfortable.  Pilar pulled on her wrists, and the pillory didn't even shake.  A padded rest and pillow supported her head.  A belt was stretched across her waist and buckled tight, then, straps were deployed across her biceps, pinning them to the frame.  Pilar could barely squirm.  She gasped as something—a noose of cord, or perhaps a leather thong—tightened around her right big toe.  It was stretched taut and tied off.  Her other toes were captured and tied as well, one-by-one, and then all the toes of her left foot.

The Sorceress stepped into view.  She released the pavilion's entrance flaps and stretched them across the pillory.  They snapped taut as she knelt and tied them to the base of the frame, somewhere near the ground, then tied neat bows in the remaining ties. Pilar's head and hands were now inside the tent, and the rest of her was outside, in the night... naked... locked and strapped down, and horribly exposed.  The Sorceress smiled, leaned close, and used her fingers to comb Pilar's tousled hair.  She spread the strands to form a silky, wavy fan of dark, long strands.

Pilar focused on the Sorceress' beautiful face.  "What are you—?"

The Sorceress had silenced her with a finger across the lips.  "Hush," she admonished.  "I am going to perform a summoning."

"A summoning?" Pilar gasped.  "What are you going to—Mrmpfh!"

The Sorceress had stuffed a silk cloth into Pilar's mouth, settled a thickly padded wooden bit between her teeth, and was now buckling its attached straps to the pillory's headrest.  Pilar's head was now pinned in place, as tightly restrained as the rest of her helpless body.  Only her fingers were free, not that they could do anything but flutter in the empty air as she clinched and unclenched her fists.

"Anything may answer my call," the Sorceress said.  "Many things may answer.  It a rite of passage every witch must go through, Pilar."  She sat cross-legged on a cushion and began combing Pilar's hair, again.  "Of course, it usually occurs as a Witchling comes of age, and only after careful schooling at the knee of her Witch-Mistress.  But I'm afraid you are far too old for any instruction or preparation to do much good.  It will be sink or swim for you, Pilar."  She leaned close and kissed the captive's forehead.  "Be brave.  You shall almost certainly survive to see the dawn, and if you do... it shall be the first day of a new life."

The Sorceress kissed the captive, again, then stood, opened her robe, and let it fall to the ground.  She was now as naked as Pilar, but for various fine gold and silver chains and bejeweled bracelets decorating her wrists, arms, and throat.  She straddled Pilar's head, and faced the closed entrance.

Her captor's sex was only a few inches from Pilar's face.  She squirmed in her bonds, and her nostrils flared.  She could smell the Sorceress.  Perhaps it was her natural musk and perhaps it was some sort of perfume.  More likely, it was both.  Pilar tugged on her bonds with all her strength.  Again, the pillory didn't even shake.  Pilar stared up at the soft, pink, glistening folds of the Sorceress' sex, and her firm, tan thighs... and shivered in anticipation.  What's going to happen?

The Sorceress closed her eyes and spread her arms.  "Sky-clad I call you," she intoned.  "Sky-clad I greet you.  Come spirits and devis, great and small.  Come beings of the Deep Woods.  Come creatures of the night, ancient and young, natural and fey.  Come and accept this sacrifice.  Come revel in its flesh.  Come test its strength.  Come share in its pleasure and pain."

Pilar's eyes popped wide.  "Mrmfh?"  Pain??  Did she say pain??

"Come!" the Sorceress commanded.  "Sky-clad I call you.  Sky-clad your sacrifice awaits.  Come!"  She held her pose for several seconds... then let her arms drop, sighed, and stepped away.

With the gag pinning her head in place, Pilar couldn't see where the Sorceress had gone or what she was doing.  She heard a gurgling sound, and her owner stepped back into view and resumed her seat.  The goblet was in her right hand and the glass bottle in her left.

The witch took a drink, then smiled down at her captive.  "And now... we wait.  Try not to be afraid, Pilar.  If you survive this trial, you shall become a powerful Wind-Dancer.  I know this to be true."  She set down the bottle, reached down, and stroked Pilar's hair.

Pilar flinched in her bonds.  A cool breeze had suddenly blown across her helpless, naked body, raising more goosebumps.  She listened, and heard a whistling noise, somewhere in night... and it was growing louder.  Suddenly, the wind gusted, with sufficient force to shake the pavilion—and just as quickly the air was still.  It had been a strange and unnatural wind.

"Rrrow!"

Pilar's eyes popped wide, again.  It was the snarling call of an animal, somewhere in the distance... perhaps a bobcat... or a puma?

"Urr... urr... urr... urr..."

It definitely was an animal, a beast, panting from the throat—and the noise was getting louder—as if the beast was getting closer!  Pilar gazed up at the Sorceress and whined through her gag.

The Sorceress' smile broadened.  "Your first visitor, Pilar."  She leaned close and kissed Pilar's forehead.  "Be brave.  It will not harm you... probably."

Constance was feeling good.  Although this was one of the Foxwood Family Players' most complicated scenarios to date (especially the current sub-scenario), everything was coming off without a hitch, so far.  Connie had given herself the role of Roving Facilitator (and understudy for Cody and/or Cricket).  After all, with three clients in play at one time, someone had to be available to help Kayley cook the meals, and to answer the phone, take deliveries, and generally keep the 21st Century side of Foxwood chugging along.  She regretted having missed out on all the fun stuff, so far... but that was about to change, big time!

Connie was dressed all in black, but it wasn't her usual Scholar's robe and dress.  She was in soft moccasin-boots, tights, and a long sleeve tunic.  Cricket, her accomplice in this scene, was similarly dressed.  She hadn't bothered removing her Elf-ear attachments, as she hadn't had time to do the careful, proper job that would preserve the pointed appliances for reuse, but it didn't matter.  Like Connie, she was now crew, and no longer a member of the cast.  The cousins were here to act behind the scenes, or rather, to act hands-on but unseen by Pilar.

Several yards distant and hiding behind a tree, the pair watched as Kayley finished securing Pilar to the pillory-frame and closing the pavilion's entrance flaps.

Cricket whispered in Connie's ear.  "Ready?"

Constance nodded.  "As ready as is humanly possible," she whispered back.  They'd tested and re-tested the carefully positioned and camouflaged surround-sound speakers, laser-projectors, and fans mounted in the trees, as well as the redundant computer programs that would coordinate the special effects.  All of their imminent actions had been rehearsed, as well.  They picked up their black canvas satchels of "special tools" and crept towards the glowing pavilion.  "No talking from this point on," she whispered to Cricket.

Cricket stopped and stared at her cousin.

Constance stopped as well.  "What?" she whispered.

"We've run through this... how many times?" Cricket demanded.

"Twice on Alice, and once on Kayley," Constance whispered, "as you well know."  Kayley had insisted on personally being on the receiving end of everything they had planned before she'd agreed to play the Sorceress to Pilar's Helpless Damsel.  And as for Alice... Princess Nympho was always up for this kind of stuff.  Everything was debugged and well-rehearsed.  "Sorry," she whispered to Cricket, "I'm just being anal.  I know you know your part.  You always know your part."

Cricket grinned.  "No problem," she giggled (softly), and they continued forward.

They reached the entrance area... and paused.  The glow from the interior was more than adequate to allow them to drink in the erotic sight of Pilar de la Calva's nude, exquisite body, clamped and strapped to the frame, awaiting their carefully practiced repertoire of "dirty tricks".  The cousins exchanged a smile, silently settled to the ground, opened their satchels, and began laying out their supplies and equipment.  They included:

• bundles of feathers and quills;
• two pair of fake-fur gloves (with attached claws);
• a pair of fur-covered half-masks;
• several bundles of leaves;
• two small dropper-bottles labeled "ICY-HOT";
• two plastic spray bottles labeled "ALCOHOL";
• two large plastic tubes with screw-caps, labeled "MOIST-LUBE".
  
• a pair of battery-powered violet wands;
• and finally... A large rubber dildo.
  

Constance also pulled out a laptop computer, the kind with a screen that swiveled to convert it to a touch-screen palette.  She tapped the screen, it began to glow, and a menu appeared  The first item read "CAT MONSTER".  Subsequent entries read:

• EVIL VINES;
• WOLF IN HEAT;
• TICKLE BIRD;
• and HORNY SATYR;

Connie touched the "CAT MONSTER" item and an icon appeared.  It was labeled "BEGIN".

The cousins donned the half-masks and fur gloves, and grinned in anticipation.

Inside the pavilion, Kayley had reached the end of her Summoning Spell.

Constance slowly counted to a hundred (mentally), then tapped the "BEGIN" icon, being careful not to let her claw damage the screen.

The "Weird Wind" sound effects began, and several small, quiet, highly directional, and well-camouflaged electric fans came to life.  They were carefully positioned and coordinated to direct a strong, modulated breeze across Pilar's helpless body.  The cousins waited for the appropriate sound cue, then took hold of a pair of taut lines rigged to the pavilon's nearest support poles, and gave them a shake, as they'd rehearsed.  The canvas panels rattled and shook as the wind sounds swelled... and then, as the sounds began to fade and the fans slowed and finally stopped, they released the lines... and the opening sequence was over.

There was a pause of a few seconds... and then...

"Rrrow!"

The surround-sound speakers were working perfectly.  It really did sound like a big cat was on the prowl, somewhere off in the trees.

"Urr... urr... urr... urr..."

The program manipulated the volume of the speakers, creating the illusion of the approaching "CAT MONSTER".

Constance and Cricket grinned, again, and leaned towards Pilar's helpless body.

Something Wicked This Way Comes!
...Things, Actually...
...&  They’re Really Wicked!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~{ & }~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

---

Pilar moaned through her gag and stared at the Sorceress with desperate eyes.

The Sorceress gazed back, a sly smile curling her lips.  She was now comfortably reclined on a pile of silky cushions.  "Courage, Pilar," she purred.  "Be brave."

The Giant Cat Spirit (or whatever it was) was tickling and licking Pilar's feet with its claws and tongue... as well as her toes... and her thighs... and her breasts, tummy, ribs, and armpits!  The horrible (wonderful) thing seemed to be everywhere on her body at once.  And then, it concentrated on her inner thighs and crotch!  Its muzzle and wet nose nudged her crotch, then, its surprisingly delicate tongue slid between her labia and probed deep into her sex!  And all the while, the animal grunts and snarls continued, and strange lights, mostly orange and yellow, were flickered on the taut canvas of the entrance flap, scintillating curtains of luminescence, like the Northern Lights.  And as the sheets of color rippled and flashed, the silhouetted shape of a huge cat's head appeared!

Pilar writhed and struggled against the taut straps and the implacable grip of the pillory and stocks, erupting in gagged giggles and well-muffled moans.  The tickling and tongue-wagging assault went on and on, and finally, after minutes of agony (sweet agony) she came.  And then, the huge cat seemed to split into different and distinct parts!  Two tongues and furry faces were nuzzling and licking her, and four or more paws were scratching and tickling her glistening skin.

And finally... it was over.  The cat was gone.

The night was eerily still.  Pilar lay in her bonds, panting and shuddering from the aftereffects of the visit by the amorous feline spirit.  (Wow!  They did a great job with the special effects! Pilar-the-paying-customer thought.)  Pilar the Courtesan Dancer, on the other hand, was in superstitious awe!  Praise the gods it is over, she thought, as her breathing slowed and her pulse returned to normal.

But her relief was short lived.

Off in the distance, a curious rustling sound began... and grew louder.  It was like bushes and tree branches thrashing in the wind, only the wind wasn't blowing, not across her body, not like it had before.  Then, the weird lights returned.  This time they were all in shades of green, and they outlined the shadows of writhing tendrils of leafy vines!

"My, this is interesting," the Sorceress chuckled.  "It is unusual for Plant Spirits to answer a summons, not unless the spell is especially tailored to their peculiar tastes.  Most interesting."

Suddenly, something snapped across Pilar's left breast!  And then her her right breast!  It had startled her more than hurt, but then it happened again!  And next, whatever it was, it was attacking her feet!  Pilar struggled and mewled through her gag.  She was being flogged by branches or vines!  It was more titillation than torture, but she didn't know where the leafy switches would strike next, and they wouldn't stop!

"They flail about when they get excited," the Sorceress explained.  "I hope this one isn't a nettle spirit," she purred, and took a sip from the goblet.  "They've been known to weep droplets of sap that itch and sting something fierce!"

Apparently the vegetative horror was some form of nettle, or a close relative, for some sort of oily fluid was dropping on Pilar's breasts and sex, and it did "itch and sting something fierce"!  Again, it wasn't that bad, but it was bad enough!  And the thrashing continued, as well as the prodding, probing and tickling of her most sensitive areas by thorny twigs.  And finally, some sort of hard, woody object, dripping with oily sap (but not of the stinging kind, thank the gods) thrust into her sex, and continued thrusting, slowly picking up the pace as the branches continued whipping her skin.

It went on, and on, and all the while the Sorceress watched, enjoying Pilar's desperate, helpless plight.

And finally, Pilar came.

And again, it was over.

The Sorceress leaned close, unbuckled the strap of Pilar's bit-gag, and pulled the now wet and slimy silk stuffing from her mouth.

Pilar licked her lips and worked her jaw.  "Please," she croaked.

"Hush, child," the Sorceress responded, cradled her head, and carefully tipped the goblet, allowing the liquid within to dribble into Pilar's mouth.

It was more of the fruity beverage from supper, and it was cold, and it was good.  The pillory and her reclined position made it difficult, but, with the Sorceress' patient help, she managed to swallow about a half a cup.

"Please," Pilar begged.  "I-I can't take any more.  Please!"

(Pilar de la Calva, guest of Foxwood, had a safe word, and "please" wasn't it.)

"Silly girl," the Sorceress purred.  She carefully set down the goblet and used her fingers to comb a few damp, tousled strands of hair from Pilar's glistening brow.  "Rest while you can.  It's still many hours until dawn."

"Please," Pilar whined.  "They're devouring my soul!"  She watched her captor dribble the remaining contents of the goblet into the stuffing from her gag.  "No!  Let me go, please!  M'mmpfh!"

"Quiet, my precious dancer," the Sorceress cooed.  She crammed the damp silk back into Pilar's mouth and re-secured the wooden bit.  "Rest while you can."

Suddenly, a wolf howled in the distance!

"Ahroooooo!"

Pilar shuddered and tugged on her bonds.

The Sorceress leaned close and kissed Pilar forehead, then settled back into her nest of cushions.  "Be brave, Pilar," she said.  "This is only the beginning."