Contains: F/F, Lesbian, Transgender, Magic, Elves, Witches, Light Dominance, Reluctance.
Just a fun little story about a hungry solider lost in the woods, and the precocious little witch that finds (and binds!) her. 😘😈
Standing on her toes, Cereza silences me with an affectionate kiss to my jaw. “Now, now,” she says, stepping away, her staff held again behind her back with both hands. “I warned you against saying that word a third time. Threes Bring Terrible Things; that’s a thicket curse, and thicket curses are baleful things indeed.”
Doffing her hat, she reveals a spriggy shock of short, unkempt hair, red as a swarm of fire bugs. She places the hat upon the wide rock near the fire, then reaches up to undo the small metal clasp, shaped as a leaf, that holds her cloak around her neck. She steps away from it, and the patchwork fabric spills from her body like a waterfall, stroking its way down her slender body and spilling onto the ground around her feet.
A sharp pop interrupts her display, as the fire finds an untouched bit of smoldering log to feast on and consume. I spare no glance to it, nor to the rabbit in front of me, I have no eyes for anything but she.
Beneath, she wears a simple white shift dress, which covers only to about her thighs. Her breasts are small buds, suggesting the recent ending of adolescence, and a not-particularly-effective puberty, a tale her baby-fat cheeks and slender, freckle-peppered shoulders corroborate nicely. Rubbing fingertips against the slender crook of her elbow, Cereza touches a glance at the grass beneath her. “You’ve seen something few’ve had the pleasure of.”
“You’re beautiful,” I say.
“You are kind to say so.” It’s her that’s unable to meet my gaze, now, and so she toes one of her leather moccasins at the dirt between us, saying. Her palm rests against her flat belly, and moves slowly down her body. “But there’s one more secret we glade witches have…”
My rapacious eyes follow the motion of her smooth hand down her nymphic body, heart beating, hungrier by the moment. Swallowing, eyes clouded by lust, I nearly miss the unexpected bulge that seems to form when she closes her hand, bunching the simple fabric of her shift around her crotch.
I startle, my whole body jerking in response. “You’ve a—”
Cereza’s eyes go wide in response to my surprise. Reacting to her confusion, the vines constricting around my chest and neck. I choke! She squats to the ground, fumbling in the grass for her staff. My hands twitch, struggling against their bonds in a vain attempt to reach my neck and strip away these other shackles that see fit to suffocate me. The pressure on my neck heightens until the bones of my spine seem to creak. My eyes bulge, my vision dims.
At the last moment, Cereza stands, thrusting out her staff and shouting a word of release. The vines slack around my body. I feel as if I could shake them free. I could free myself, escape, possibly even snatch up that rabbit in the doing of.
Instead, I look to Cereza, staff still held aloft, other hand wrapped plaintively around her shift at the waist. My tongue rolls against the inside my lips. I take a few testing breaths. I do not attempt to shake free the bonds—in truth, I’ve no idea if I even could, or if I’d want to…
Releasing her grip on her shift, Cereza smears her wrist against her face, swiping away what tears have sprung up in her distraction. I’m well aware it’s uncouth to stare, but nothing about my upbringing ever trained me to be “couth” in the first place. So, body recovered, my mind’s first instinct is to look towards what Cereza so pertinently kept hidden.
The small tent that’s grown in her shift is obvious, now that she devotes no hand to hiding it. In the white fabric, a small, wet spot grows.
She pauses in the wiping of her eyes to interrupt me. “I am a glade witch.”
“And glade witches possess—”
With a certain measure of surliness, she says, “This one certainly does.”
Taking a pause for breath, she lowers her staff. “I’ll free you, Rien, with my apologies. I’d no intent to hurt you I only—I only wanted to have a little game.”
“Tighten them again,” I say.
Looking up, Cereza blinks at me through the pools of her tears. “Pardon?”
“We haven’t finished our game,” I say.
A smile, buoyant, finds Cereza’s face. “You are a rarity, aren’t you?”
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