Breaking out of this place? No, I've long since given up on that idea. I have no idea why I'm here, but one sure is sure: unless someone decides to free me, I am going to be stuck here for a very, very long time. Unless...
(This narration relies heavily on information penury, as well as continuous improvisation on my part. Because information penury doesn't work well when spoiled, minimum tagging is enforced (if the main character isn't aware of something in a given story part, then the corresponding tag won't be included until they become aware of it in a latter part). Also, this first part is very definitely an introduction meant to present two of the main characters; the kinky parts are coming in the next parts. I am trying to write a powerful story with a lot of kinks, not the other way around, hence all the introspection and world building. Thanks for bearing with me!)
////////// BEGINNING OF PART 1 //////////
I heard the heavy wooden door of my cell open, and felt the water my feet were dipping into move around before the door closed, indicating someone had entered the room. This timing was unusual. Although I had long lost track of the weeks (months?) I’d spent here, suspended to the ceiling by gold chains attached to my wrists, immobilized in front of a massive stone wall with a single sky opening slightly above the level of my head, I knew for a fact my captors never visited me at night.
Whoever had entered silently remained behind me. I didn’t even try to look above my shoulder — there was no point in me seeing their face, and I knew the very act of moving my head around to have become an excruciating effort thanks to prolongated immobility.
A few minutes passed; neither a word nor a movement was uttered. I was keenly aware of the person’s continued presence because of the gentle breeze their calm breath created in the room, but they didn’t seem interested in doing anything special. This was actually unexpectedly nerve-wracking for me, and I started wondering whether I should indulge into my curiosity and lift my head up to take a look at them. During my stay here, I had progressively grown accustomed to the presence people moving around me, attending to my vital needs, cleaning me, feeding me.
This mute presence, however, was something new. Nobody had ever spent time doing nothing in my room.
The water moved again. They were approaching me. I felt my shirt being lifted up, and a cold hand was pressed against my omoplate. I reflexively tensed, scared of what the person might be thinking of doing. The hand remained in place for a few seconds, and then it started sliding slowly against my skin. I realized with a mixture of surprise and disgust they were spreading some substance on my back.
“What are you doing?”
I hadn’t really used my voice in a while; although I’d meant to put some intonation in my question, I barely managed a weak whisper. Nevertheless, the person’s hand stopped moving, staying in place on my shoulder. I wasn’t sure whether they had understood my words, or they simply didn’t expect a reaction from me, but at the very least I felt they had acknowledged me as an living being by granting consequence to my action. That was already an impressive improvement, compared to my other captors.
A few seconds passed, and the hand resumed spreading the substance on my skin.
“What is your name?”
I blinked. What a warm voice. A warm and high-pitched voice. Apparently the person was female, and she understood me.
“Morgan,” I whispered after a short hesitation. I couldn’t think of a reason not to act cooperative with her, at least for now. She seemed different from the other wardens, more inclined toward acknowledging my existence as a person, and more importantly, her voice had that precious quality I had be missing since finding myself here. She sounded caring. I had no idea what the substance she was spreading on me was, but I had an intuition she wasn’t malevolent — and, either way, I had no means of preventing her from doing whatever she wanted to do with me.
She remained silent for a few more minutes, carrying on with her ministration. Eventually, she let my shirt fall back against my back, and came to face me, tranquilly entering my sight under the moonlight.
She looked way too young and way too delicate for this place. Her black tresses, her lightly ornate dress, the transparent onguent pot in her left hand, her curious, innocent demeanor, none of these belonged in this cell of brutality.
“How long have you been locked up here?”
Her face was completely hidden beneath a hood, but I could feel her eyes slowly taking my shape in. I wasn’t entirely sure, but I had a feeling she was intimidated one way or another.
“I’m not sure,” I admitted after a pause. “I lost count of weeks a while ago.”
She remained silent for a while, and dipped her right hand in her pot while approaching me. She gently lifted my shirt, and started brushing the onguent on my torso.
“Are you not going to tell me what you’re doing to me?”
She didn’t react, visibly uninterested in explaining herself. I sighed softly and let her do her thing.
Eventually, she was done with my torso, and she let my shirt go, taking a step back as she did.
“Why are you here?”
I stared blankly at her. “I don’t know.”
Feeling her gaze’s pressure increasing, I lowered my eyes, not wanting to face adversity in this potential support.
“I really don’t know,” I insisted, my trembling whisper barely audible even to me. “I have no recollection of being captured, and I don’t think I’ve done anything to deserve being chained up here either.
She nodded, and dipped her hand in the pot once more. I shivered when she started massaging my right arm, surprised at their sensitivity. She just carried on, unfazed by my reaction.
“Where are you from?” she casually asked while depositing an extra layer of the onguent on my numb fingers.
“I’m from Paris.”
“Paris?”
She tilted her head, and shifted to my left arm. I didn’t bother trying to suppress the shiver her hand sent through my spine — there was no point.
“Paris, France?” I attempted, expecting her to at least know be aware of the country.
She shrugged. “Never heard of the place.”
I frowned. Was that even possible?
She didn’t ask anything else for a while, finishing up with her work on my left hand before taking a few steps back.
“Do you want to get out of this place?”
I stared at her. Had this question been asked by anyone else among the people I’d met here, I wouldn’t even have given it a second thought before labeling it a joke — I didn’t know their reasons, but my captors clearly didn’t have any inclination toward releasing me, ever. Her, though… She didn’t belong in this place, and she didn’t appear to have much interest for pleasantry.
“I can get you out of here,” she calmly stated, carefully watching for a reaction. She didn’t get any — her assertion had caught me off-guard and induced such a violent shock in my mind I had essentially stopped responding to the external world altogether.
A few awkward minutes passed, and I realized she had kneeled in front of me in the water and was lathering her onguent on my inner thighs. I squirmed slightly, both to inform her of my return to present reality and because I was embarrassed by the premise. She simply carried on with her ministration.
“Sorry about the silence,” I apologized, unsure whether that was needed but feeling I might as well be extra cautious given the circumstances.
She looked like she was finished with my legs; she slowly stood up, directly facing me. Although I still couldn’t see them, I had a feeling her eyes were fixated on mine.
“You have not answered me yet. Do you want me to get you out?”
For some reason, her insistence made me realize I didn’t know her motives. I didn’t want to throw myself from one frying pan to another.
“What’s in it for you?”
She tilted her head slightly. “That is a very good question,” she admitted, taking a short step back. “I am in great need of a servant. I was hoping you would agree to become my servant in exchange for my getting you out of this cell.”
I looked at her, puzzled. “A servant? Isn’t that a little vague? What would you use me for?”
She silently looked aside. I was starting to get used to this pattern of passive question avoidance, but she actually broke it this time, positively surprising me.
“Although our predicaments may not look alike, I am actually very much a prisoner myself,” she started. “I may be able to walk this castle’s hallways freely, but it is the castle itself that I want to leave.”
She knelt and rinsed her hand in the water, before closing her pot’s lid.
She had just called this place a castle — a largely discredited concept in our era of guns and drones. On its own, the word probably wouldn’t have caught my attention, but her old-school speech patterns and her ignorance of Paris, let alone France were starting to provoke a tickling sensation at the back of my mind.
Until now, I had assumed I was being detained in some obscure part of Europe, but was that really the case?
“Alone,” she carried on, standing back up, “I am unable to breach these walls… but with you as my servant, leaving this place is feasible.”
I had a hard time wrapping my mind around the idea. Considering the state I was in, there was no way I’d be able to fight anyone off (and I had never been particularly strong to begin with). There was no way she wasn’t aware of my current weakness.
She seemed to notice my confusion, and reformulated.
“I want you to be my familiar.”
Although I certainly appreciated her effort at making herself clear, this wasn’t really helping me understand her request. Her familiar? What did she mean by that?
One thing was becoming clearer by the minute: one way or another, our cultures were worlds apart. Although our languages were compatible and allowed us to communicate with each other, our vocabularies, postulates, assumptions and common sense had nothing in common. As a matter of fact, I was starting to realize she wouldn’t have been out of place in a fantasy video game.
She calmly stood in front of me, visibly waiting for my response. I didn’t know what to say. Asking about familiars to try and determine exactly what she expected from me seemed like the sensible thing to do, but I wasn’t sure her offer would stand if I admitted my ignorance and she might be my only chance to get out of here. The stakes were far too great in either direction.
I heard a soft sigh escape her lips.
“I do not need your answer immediately,” she stated. “I know this is a lot to take in in a very short amount of time. Would you like me to come back tomorrow? You can make your decision then.”
I looked down, nodding slowly. I was scared of asking her about familiars, scared of scaring her away or more generally losing the unexplainable interest she seemed to have for me. At the same time, I knew I very much couldn’t take this decision in the state I was in. I needed more data.
One more day in this cell didn’t mean much to me at this point, and I might be able to ask her for some explanations tomorrow in a new, fresh conversation.
“In that case, I shall take my leave,” she said, bowing down to express what I assumed to be gratitude for this talk. I would have reciprocated, but my gold restraints wouldn’t let me.
“See you tomorrow, then… and thanks.”
She headed for the door, passing behind me; I realized I still didn’t know what the onguent she had spread on my body was. Wasn’t I going to get in trouble with the wardens if they found out about her visit?
“It is a health cream,” she finally explained from the door’s threshold before opening it. “It will regenerate your tissues over the rest of the night. Hopefully this dose will give suffice for now.”
“Thanks,” I nodded after a short pause. I hadn’t expected her to answer this question.
She then exited the water and closed the door, leaving me to ponder her offer.
////////// END OF PART 1 //////////
Written by Rebecca "Kalista" Scalese
Personal site: beckyverse.com
Tumblr: takaminacchan.tumblr.com
Mail: [email protected]
Learning about familiars is an important first step to establishing a healthy familiar-Meister relationship. Trust is another vital ingredient; doubt is usually considered a hindering factor.
Morgan, still chained to the ceiling, is approached by another potential partner. A much more talkative one.
(This narration relies heavily on information penury, as well as continuous improvisation on my part. Because information penury doesn't work well when spoiled, minimum tagging is enforced (if the main character isn't aware of something in a given story part, then the corresponding tag won't be included until they become aware of it in a latter part).)
////////// BEGINNING OF PART 2 //////////
The next day’s flow was rather ordinary. The wardens attended to me exactly as usual, cleaning my body with rough sponges in the morning (apparently, the health cream had left no visible trace on my body — either that, or they simply weren’t paying close attention or didn’t care) and feeding me a single meal compound of bread and dried meat sometime around midday. Unexceptionally, not a word was uttered.
On the other hand, although this day’s flow was no different from yesterday’s, my experience of it definitely was. The sponges that hadn’t bothered me one bit up to now now felt incredibly irritating against my skin, and the food tasted like something I might actually ask for in a restaurant for a change.
I deliberately kept silent (except for a surprised whimper when I first noticed the sponges’ sting had increased). I suspected bringing attention on the fact that something had changed might make them more vigilant in the near future, something that I didn’t want.
When my captors left the cell, I let out a brief sigh, trying to make sense of what had transpired today. The increased irritability of my skin was easy enough to explain — assuming the girl hadn’t lied, my body had essentially gone through a rejuvenating cure during my sleep (the ease with which I was accepting the notion that something magical had happened actually surprised me a little). Rather than an increased sensitivity, I supposed I had simply recovered my up-to-now-lost healthy sensitivity, dropping some kind of accumulated pain resistance in the process. That was relatively easy to imagine.
My increased taste, though… she supposedly hadn’t done anything to my head, never mind my tongue. I couldn’t think of a realistic justification, so after a few minutes of fruitless reflexion I decided to drop the issue for now. I had more urging matters to think of.
I had an intuition I would ultimately accept the girl’s offer. Although I was fully aware that I had no idea what I would be getting into, this might be my only chance to leave this cell alive, and her respectful attitude up to now made me inclined to believe she wasn’t the kind of person who would condone abuse.
Nevertheless, I resolved to ask her about familiars before I took my decision. I figured this shouldn’t scare her away if she was serious; should my questioning turn out to be enough to drive her away, that would be a very strong indicator of some kind of double-game going on and I would probably be better off not letting her have her way in the first place.
Out of the blue, someone grabbed my right hand and forced their fingers between mine. Once my initial, shocked surprise dissipated, I looked to my right and discovered another girl was standing next to me, grinning at me.
“Hi,” she greeted me, squeezing my hand.
I tried to free myself from her grasp, but the chains that kept me standing up didn’t allow for a lot of amplitude and her grip was incredibly strong. She calmly maintained the pressure until I gave up, constantly looking straight into my eyes as she did so.
“There, there,” she said after I had given up, stroking my arm with her free hand, “good.”
I wanted to look away from her, to at least preserve my freedom of focus, but I was somehow unable to do so — I felt as though my eyes were pinned to hers. Her caress was distracting.
“I was thinking of having a little chat,” she continued. “Any objections?”
There was no way I could shake her off, and my eyes wouldn’t let me ignore her presence. I managed a nod.
“So here’s the thing,” she casually started. “Yesterday, I was reading a book on one of my wonderfully comfortable feather cushions, minding my own business, and all of a sudden little Erika pops through our door with a smile on her lips, obviously very satisfied about something. She wouldn’t tell me what she was so happy about, but I have… my ways… of loosening tongues. Anyway, eventually she confessed about your conversation, and I felt I had to react.”
So, yesterday’s girl was called Erika?
I frowned, but didn’t say anything. I didn’t know who she was or what she was trying to achieve, but I had a feeling reacting to her would just be playing right into her hand — literally. She smiled before taking a more serious expression.
“Listen, you mustn’t accept her offer,” she stated. “She may have looked like she was a gentle, docile girl, but she’ll change the moment you enter her game. I’ve seen it happen before. It wasn’t pretty.”
She let go of my gaze, and I was finally free to look away from her eyes. My hand was still stuck in hers, though.
I carefully examined her, trying and failing to read her body language — she radiated way too much self-confidence for anything else to be noticeable. She was calmly examining my arm, as though it had been some sort of archaeologic find. Blonde tresses… was she related to yesterday’s girl? She was much taller than her, though.
“Why are you telling me this?” I probed.
“Because I have an alternate offer for you,” came her immediate answer. “Let’s not waste time on formalities: I need to get out of this place too, and I need you to become my familiar for that purpose. I promise to release you the moment we’re out — if you want me to, of course.”
Well, at least she was straightforward. I stared at her, unsure what to think. It dawned on me that she might be willing to explain what being a familiar meant to me.
“I didn’t accept Erika’s offer yesterday because I lacked data about familiars — I was planning on asking her about that subject tonight,” I explained. “Whatever my decision ends up being, I need to know what I’m getting into. Care to educate me?”
She nodded slowly, smiling a warm, empathic smile at me. I was pretty sure she would have been able to lie her way through nearly anything, but something about that smile felt authentic, reassuring.
“You aren’t from this world, are you?”
I glanced at my feet.
“I don’t know,” I admitted. “Probably not.”
She nodded. “If you don’t know about familiars, this most likely isn’t home world. Familiars are way too important around here to escape one’s awareness.”
It was my turn to nod.
“Does the word at least ring a bell?”
“It does pop up in fiction from time to time. Most of the time a familiar is the pet of a magic user,” I recited.
She titled her head.
“A pet? Like, an animal?”
I nodded.
“What a bizarre idea.”
She looked genuinely puzzled.
“I don’t mean to insult you or anything, mind you, but… I mean, how would an animal be supposed to process complex magic motives?”
“Magic motives?” I asked, curious.
“Right… I assume actual magic isn’t a thing where you come from?”
“Unless you’re talking about card tricks, no, it isn’t.”
She sighed loudly. “Sounds like an awfully boring world to me.”
I actually chuckled at that. She gently squeezed my hand, reminding me that her grasp was still active with a grin.
She then spent a while giving me a crash course on the world we were in, how magic worked and, most importantly, what familiars were.
Over here, a familiar was basically a human being bound to a partner called a Meister. The Meister had absolute control over every aspect of the familiar’s existence — their appearance, their behavior, their beliefs and even their memory and life. Obviously enough, that meant anyone looking to become a familiar had to trust their potential Meister hugely, or face potentially disastrous personal consequences, for a familiar-Meister bond could only be released by the Meister. As such, familiars were considered extremely rare and precious.
Familiars were also the most powerful wielders of magic around, by far. They couldn’t use magic on their own, but their Meister could essentially use them as wands to cast nearly limitless magic.
She was still holding onto my hand. My palm was getting embarrassingly sweaty, but she didn’t seem to mind.
“Erika probably won’t be long,” she said with an awkward smile when I remarked the day had ended. “I’d rather she didn’t learn about my visit, if that’s okay with you.”
I actually heard a sigh escape my lips, and blushed upon realizing I had been enjoying that girl’s presence.
“Aren’t you going to ask me whether I want to be your familiar?” I asked, surprised at her casualness.
She smiled.
“I’ve already made my offer,” she shrugged. “There would be little point in pestering you over and over with it, right? You need to make your own decisions.”
I smiled back at her. She gently caressed my cheeks with her free hand, and I felt them warm up under her touch.
“Well, I’ll see you around, I guess.”
She finally let go of my hand, passed behind me and left the room. I was alone again, but I knew it wouldn’t be long until Erika came over. I wasn’t sure whether I should carry on with my original plan of asking her about familiars. Cross-interrogation might help me examine her psyche, but it might also give my conversation with her maybe-relative surely-rival and I wasn’t sure I wanted that.
I decided I’d let her take the initiative for now. Going with the flow would give me a better posture to observe her behavior without alarming her.
////////// END OF PART 2 //////////
Written by Rebecca "Kalista" Scalese
Personal site: beckyverse.com
Tumblr: takaminacchan.tumblr.com
Mail: [email protected]
"Put this collar on, and I'll take you away from this cell."
Of course, this is much easier said than done.
(This narration relies heavily on information penury, as well as continuous improvisation on my part. Because information penury doesn't work well when spoiled, minimum tagging is enforced (if the main character isn't aware of something in a given story part, then the corresponding tag won't be included until they become aware of it in a latter part).)
There we go, part 3 of Your Wings Are Beautiful! Sorry for the wait, I sincerely hope you'll enjoy it~
////////// BEGINNING OF PART 3 //////////
As expected, Erika came over a dozen minutes after her blonde rival’s leave. This time, she wasted no time hiding behind me and immediately stood before me, bowing briefly to salute me. She was wearing the same outfit as yesterday, her eyes still hidden under her hood.
She was carrying a gold chain in her hands, not unlike the ones my wrists were bound to. I decided not to mention it for now.
“Have you given my offer some thought?” she asked, her voice soft but determined.
I needed to play this right. She wanted me to become her familiar, in order for us both to escape this place. According to her rival’s description of the job, that would essentially make me her superpowered magical slave. I had no real reason not to believe she had been lying about that part — the blonde girl wanted me to become her familiar too, after all.
Her more dubious, vaguer warning was still fresh in my mind — supposedly, Erika would change the moment I entered her game. She had announced it in a rather matter-of-fact tone, but her obvious self-confidence meant it was impossible to distinguish lies from truth when she was the one speaking.
Although my means were very limited, I needed to evaluate Erika’s trustworthiness.
“I have,” came my calm, controlled answer. When I saw her straighten her back, visibly having a hard time containing her excitement, I quickly continued talking. “I may or may not be interested in accepting it.”
I heard a sigh escape her lips.
“Well, I suppose that was to be expected,” she admitted. “I have another proposal for you tonight,” she added, suddenly dropping the whole familiar deal.
I raised an eyebrow, intrigued. I had little doubt the chain she was carrying had something to do with this “other proposal,” but I had a hard time figuring out how exactly she intended to sell anything to me that involved chains considering the time I had spent in full restraints.
“I omitted some details yesterday,” she started. “I am actually the youngest of this castle’s princesses.”
I was genuinely surprised. Not really by her statement’s face value (at this point, I might have believed her if she’d told me she was actually a green-furred platypus in disguise), but by its non-sequitur value. This seemed to come out of absolutely nowhere.
I must have had some weird expression painted on my face, for she chose this moment to remove her hood, revealing a silver tiara resting on the top of her head.
“My name is Erika, third princess of Rapture.”
Her bright blue eyes, framed by black bangs and tresses, had an eerie air about them. Where the blonde girl’s gaze had felt forceful but reassuring, Erika’s gaze made me feel uneasy, uncomfortable. Although she was clearly trying to appear self-confident, I had a feeling she was actually very nervous, and her nervousness was contagious.
Rapture, eh? I knew this name to designate a fictive underwater city in a popular video game, but I was pretty sure this place didn’t have anything to do with it — I could see the sky clearly from my cell.
When I didn’t say anything, she continued talking. “I desire freedom, something Rapture cannot offer even to me, one of her princesses. I want you to give it to me by becoming my familiar, in exchange for getting you out of this place.”
I nodded. So far, this was nothing new.
“Nevertheless, I am one of Rapture’s princesses. I actually do have some level of authority within its walls. Which brings us to my offer.”
She raised the golden chain in her hands, presenting it to me. At one of its ends, hanged what looked like a heavy gold collar. The other end was attached to a handcuff. The chain was about two meters long. Slowly, I guessed her intent. This was a leash.
“I can take you out of this cell, if I attach this chain to you. You will still be considered a prisoner, but you will be able to walk around Rapture by my side. This should increase your comfort level considerably, and it will allow us to discuss more freely about the future.”
This sounded fishy. I hated to look at a gift horse in the mouth, but I kinda had to in my position. “Wouldn’t that imply security risks, though? What if I used the opportunity to take you as my hostage to get out of here?”
She tilted her head, visibly intrigued.
“You are hardly a threat in your current state,” she calmly answered.
I raised an eyebrow. Was she underestimating me, or was I the one underestimating her? Her face looked as serious as ever. Eventually, she just lifted the chain up again.
“Are you interested?”
She obviously expected me to accept her answer on the spot. I couldn’t think of a reason to refuse being able to move around for a change — I had a feeling I’d meet her rival again later whether I stayed chained up here or not. So I nodded.
She smiled a small smile and bowed in appreciation, starting to fiddle with the collar at the end of her chain. “Should I proceed, then?”
“Yes, please.”
She lifted the collar to my neck and calmly fitted it around it, ensuring it was tight but not too much before locking it in place. It didn’t feel nearly as heavy as I had feared. I definitely wouldn’t be able to clear it from my mind anytime soon, but its presence didn’t crush my shoulders or anything like that.
She then attached the handcuff at the chain’s other end to her right hand, without any hesitation. We were now locked to each other. She produced a key from a pocket on her dress.
“I am going to detach your arms,” she explained, raising her right hand to my right handcuff. When I didn’t say anything, she simply unlocked it.
The sudden loss of traction made me collapse in the water, my left hand becoming the only thing keeping me from completely laying down. She didn’t react to my fall; she simply gave me a few minutes to recompose myself instead.
My body felt impossibly heavy. It hadn’t moved in weeks so this wasn’t really a surprise, but it still was a weird sensation. I tried to at least sit up, and after some effort I managed to do just that. My cold, wet shirt was clinging to my skin, making me shiver.
She unlocked my left hand, letting my arm fall in the water with a splash. “This key won’t work on our chain,” she casually explicited before discarding the gold tool in the water. “How do you feel?”
I looked up to her, panting. I was actually barely managing to catch my breath and I was just sitting up. My body really was in a pitiable state.
“I feel really weak right now.”
She nodded calmly.
“I will apply health cream to your body again once we are in my apartments,” she decided. That was actually something I would look forward to. “Can you stand? I would rather not spend the night here.”
I tried to, but my legs simply couldn’t develop enough strength for the task. She offered me her hand, and when I took it she forcefully pulled me up, surprising me with her strength. She awkwardly placed my right arm around her shoulder, doing her best to keep the chain out of the way.
“Do you think you can walk?”
I managed to lift a foot and take a single step forward. This simple effort made me feel like I had just walked a dozen kilometers, and drove home the point that I was, indeed, hardly a threat right now.
We slowly turned around, toward the heavy wooden door I had so often imagined since awakening here. There barely was any light to see, but I was impressed by the door’s blackness nevertheless.
We started making our way to it in the water, Erika calmly keeping us from staggering as I did my best to follow her rhythm. She opened the door and we took our first step on dry rock in the candlelit hallway.
Walking was pretty tough on me. By the time we got out of my cell’s hallway, I was managing to reliably lift the right foot at the right time, but using all these muscles was painful. She waved at the huge warden standing between us and the rest of Rapture, and he let silently let us through. I then discovered I had been detained in the castle’s first floor, and Erika’s apartments were situated two floors above. That meant stairs — spiraling stairs, to be accurate. The architecture was very reminiscent of classic middle ages fantasy.
We quickly established the climb to be way too tough for us at the current time, and she suggested asking a guard for help. The tall man didn’t have any difficulty lifting me over his shoulder with one arm; he wordlessly followed Erika’s lead until we got to Erika’s apartments, depositing me in front of the threshold before returning to his duty.
She briefly inspected me before pushing the ornate door open.
Unexpectedly, Erika’s apartments were bathed in a luminescent warmth reminiscent of halogen lamps despite the conspicuous absence of any kind of electric installation. A couple of bright spheres embedded in the ceiling were providing all this light, probably through magic of some sort.
Erika helped me walk in — the floor was made out of light polished wood —, and let me sit next to her in one of the four black leather sofas disposed in square formation around a glass table at the center of the room.
And then I saw her.
She was sitting the sofa facing ours, her legs crossed, a large grin on her face, her right hand toying with one of her blonde tresses. I wasn’t sure why I hadn’t noticed her presence before, but she had already pulled this trick on me once. I saw and heard Erika clutch on my chain, as if to ascertain her hold on me.
“Good evening, Erika,” the girl said, her voice alarmingly assured. “And good evening to you, prisoner,” she added with emphasis. “I see you two are getting along just fine.”
I didn’t have the strength to complain, so I just stared blankly at her. Erika was visibly annoyed by this girl; her lips were trembling, probably from a mixture of anger, stress and, impressively enough, fear.
“Would you mind leaving us alone, Viola?” she finally managed to blurt out. I actually heard a weak “please” escape her mouth soon after.
The blonde girl feigned hesitation for a dozen seconds, before grinning and shaking her head. “I don’t think so,” she answered, laying on her side, her head resting on her left hand. “And you are going to stay here for now,” she added, her eyes fixated on Erika’s now trembling form, making her whimper.
I took a look at Erika, trying and failing to understand the relationship between these two. She was very obviously submissive toward Viola, but I had no idea why.
“It’s extremely hard for her to disobey me,” Viola casually explained, as though she’d been reading my mind. “Mostly because I have placed a bunch of enchants on her.”
I raised an eyebrow, intrigued. Erika just squirmed in her seat, struggling with what I now gathered to be the tacit order she had received.
“You actually can’t force someone to become your familiar,” came the answer to my unasked question. “Well, I guess you could, to an extent, but it’d be a really bad idea. The amount of free will the soon-to-be familiar experiences during the pact’s formation influences their limitations as a familiar. A completely forced pact would produce a mostly useless familiar, mana-wise.”
Erika nodded, apparently relaxed by the change of subject. “Separations are also definitive,” she added. “She could not force a pact on me to make me trust her for a second pact.”
It was Viola’s turn to nod.
“Should we have a chat?” she asked, looking intently at me.
Erika looked at me, pleading. I just nodded.
////////// END OF PART 3 //////////
Written by Rebecca "Kalista" Scalese
Personal site: beckyverse.com
Tumblr: takaminacchan.tumblr.com
Mail: [email protected]
Morgan, having been let out of the golden handcuffs by Erika, is offered a magic-enhanced massage by her older sister, Viola. Slowly but surely, reality kicks in. This isn't the body Morgan is looking for.
(This narration relies heavily on information penury, as well as continuous improvisation on my part. Because information penury doesn't work well when spoiled, minimum tagging is enforced (if the main character isn't aware of something in a given story part, then the corresponding tag won't be included until they become aware of it in a latter part).)
Part 4! Writing erotic scenes is something new for me (and probably not my forte), but hey -- I tried! Also, backstory for Viola and Erika.
////////// BEGINNING OF PART 4 //////////
“Viola, I promised Morgan another health cream massage,” Erika suddenly stated out of the blue. “Would you mind retrieving a pot in my room? I’d rather not force movement for now.”
The blonde girl tilted her head, and wordlessly nodded her agreement before standing up and leaving the room through purple curtains.
***
We had been chatting for close to a hour now. After spending a while discussing the whole familiar issue in great detail (they both wanted me to pick them as their Meister — in other words, they both wanted me to willingly surrender my free will to them), Viola suggested we talk about our respective lives to relax a little.
Having been the one to breach the subject, she went first. Viola was Rapture’s first princess, and Erika’s oldest sister. She had quickly discovered she didn’t enjoy living in what she described as nothing else than a golden cage one bit, and had spent nearly every waking hour of her life looking for a way out.
“It’s no use, though,” she explained with a resigned face. “From the get-go, this castle was conceived to be self-sufficient — I never got to see the external world. I know about it thanks to the library, but that’s pretty much it. I’m not even sure what Rapture’s raison d’être is, but I’ve never heard of anyone successfully getting out of here. There are no gates, anyway — it’s walls upon walls in every direction. If it hadn’t been for Ellen, I would have given up escaping long ago.”
Erika nervously shrieked upon hearing this name.
“It’s okay, Erika,” Viola calmly said, obviously trying to comfort her sister. “She can’t reach you anymore. You’re safe.”
When I saw the brunette’s pale face nod uncertainly, I asked who this Ellen person was.
“Our other sister,” Viola casually dropped. “And the castle’s second princess. She was an absolute genius when it came to magic — she’s the one who taught us everything. She also turned out to be a dangerous, murderous bitch who killed twenty three people before someone finally managed to stop her.”
Her tone was unusually monotonous, it had lost its usual bite. Apparently, even she couldn’t completely conceal her emotions when it came to this Ellen person.
There was a short silence, and Erika decided to introduce herself. Rapture’s third princess, she shared her older sister’s desire to run from the castle. Although she knew how magic worked in principle, she lacked the mana-bending capacity her sisters had and was mostly powerless as far as practical magic went. She had started studying potions as a consequence, unsatisfied with her limitations.
“Health cream is something she invented, actually,” Viola mentioned with a grin. “She’s shy and she doesn’t like bragging about it, but little Erika is the best potion maker in Rapture.”
Her blush was actually kinda cute.
***
Erika was looking at me, an intrigued expression painted on her face.
“How do you feel?” she asked.
I shrugged.
“Thankfully, the collar is actually… remarkably ergonomic.”
She tilted her head. “I meant generally.”
I mirrored her head tilt. “I’m… relieved to finally be out of my cell?”
She nodded uneasily, her eyes traveling to her end of our chain. “I had to promise not to let you go in order to free you,” she admitted. “This chain is going to be here for a pretty long time.”
I nodded. “I’ll try not to get in the way too much,” I offered, trying to acknowledge the sacrifice she had consented to for my comfort’s sake.
She gently leaned against my shoulder with a sheepish smile. “And I will take care of you, Morgan,” she calmly said. “If there is anything I can do to make your life easier, feel free to ask.”
That was the moment Viola chose to return from Erika’s room, carrying a few pots in her arms. “Would you mind laying on this table?” she asked, grinning.
Erika seemed to hesitate. “Why did you bring this many?”
The blond girl kept her grin, slowly depositing the pots on one of the table’s ends. Erika suddenly strengthened her back, blushing furiously. “Are you sure this is a good idea?”
I wasn’t sure what was going on, and my body still ached from its earlier efforts, so I contented myself with observing their quarrel.
“We want to make the situation as comfortable as possible, don’t we?”
Erika was getting redder by the second. “But… We do not know whether…”
“Let’s ask, then? Morgan, would you like us both to massage you specifically to give you pleasure?”
“Pleasure?”
Erika was looking at the floor now, clearly very embarrassed about the whole premise. Viola had finished unloading her loot; she approached me, and gently whispered in my ear.
“A moment ago, we accidentally discovered Erika’s health cream has an interesting side-effect. Using too much of it makes your skin extremely susceptible to caresses for a while.”
All of a sudden, it was my turn to blush. Erika’s reaction now made a lot of sense. Viola’s grin widened.
“Why are you suggesting this?” I asked, disconcerted by her offer.
“Because I want you to feel good,” she answered matter-of-factly, reaching for my left hand with the obvious intent of leading me to the table. I carefully circumvented her gesture by retracting my arm in my back, feeling like preserving my barely surviving sense of privacy. The wardens had washed me daily for weeks, and I had eventually grown indifferent to their touch, but this was different. This girl intended to give me an erotic massage.
Eventually, Erika snapped out of her floor-staring and she set her gaze on the unguent pots in carefully laid out in front of her. “Although I do not feel like forcing you to accept, I encourage you to give it a try,” she muttered, her cheeks pink. “Viola is actually skilled with her hands, and physical stimulation will probably improve your well-being considerably.”
Viola let out a giggle. “You heard the lady. Come on, trust me for a few minutes. I’ll make sure you don’t regret it.”
Baffled by Erika’s sudden change of tone, and admittedly a little curious, I slowly removed my arm from my back and allowed Viola to grab my hand. She wasted no time pulling me to my feet and guiding me to the table, whistling as she laid me down on with my back directly against the cold glass after swiftly removing my shirt.
Erika had squatted on the floor near my head; she was smiling awkwardly. “You will probably enjoy this,” she said, visibly doing her best not to look away from my eyes. “Just follow Viola’s lead.”
I nodded, unsure of what I had gotten myself into. Viola was calmly unsealing the pots, one by one, and disposing them around my body.
“Are you ready, Morgan?” she eventually asked, breaking the silence that had formed. Surprisingly, her voice wasn’t playful — she was apparently pretty serious about what she was about to do.
When I signaled my agreement, she plunged her two hands in containers on either side of my feet and immediately applied them on my feet’s top, drawing small circles with her hands to spread the cream over their entire surface.
Slowly but surely, I realized the amount of cream on my skin seemed to be diminishing. Erika gave me a knowing smile. “When it is laid over the skin, the health cream regenerates the tissues beneath it over a few hours… but when you actually rub it for a few minutes, it starts penetrating the skin and causes accelerated regeneration. This is where the enhanced sensitivity comes from.”
I suddenly shivered; Viola had just let her fingernails glide over my right foot’s top, demonstrating the cream’s effects. Erika actually grinned.
The massage proceeded to my soles. Viola briefly tested my sensitivity to tickling before starting her massage, making sure not to trigger unwanted bursts of laughter.
I was actually a little disappointed when she let go of my feet. “Don’t worry,” she said, apparently aware of my feelings. “The actual massage hasn’t started. First, I need to prime your body for it.”
“I see,” came my involuntarily needy response.
***
By the time Viola’s hands reached my thighs, I had grown accustomed to the sharp bursts of pleasure my skin was sending me. Gasps of bliss occasionally escaped my lips; I was long past trying to hold them in.
I suddenly felt another set of hands spread health cream over my right arm, and realized Erika had decided to partake in the massage. I looked at her face, our eyes interlocking for a few seconds. She still had her sheepish smile.
“Do you have any objection?” she asked innocently, pausing in her movement.
When I shook my head, she resumed her ministrations, obviously satisfied with my compliance.
***
As I lay down on the glass table, panting, naked, slowly recovering from the physiological high Viola and Erika had expertly thrust me into with their health-cream enhanced caresses, I realized something was off. Or, more accurately, I started acknowledging it.
Their massage had been incredibly agreeable, yet my body hadn’t reacted to them the way I would have expected it to. There had been no arousal, no excitation, no crave, no itch. Nothing sexual. Just an incredibly pleasurable wellbeing.
This wasn’t the only thing that was off. Until now, pain, exhaustion and fear had kept me focused on the external world. At the current time, though, I felt safe and rejuvenated. For the first time in a pretty long time, I was able to pay attention to my sensations, to myself.
I felt weird, in many ways. I felt as though my brain had been disconnected from the remainder of my body for a while, and was slowly reestablishing the communication network and discovering each of its peripherals had been swapped with something new.
Slowly but irremediably, it dawned on me that this wasn’t my body. As I sat up to try and deliberately examine myself, looking for a sign of my past form and failing to find anything, I registered so many alien sensations I had missed until now my head started to hurt.
I was actually pretty small. Up to now, I had simply assumed the people living in this castle were unusually tall, but this presumption was getting harder and harder to hold onto now that my brain was focusing on it.
I was also very clearly a girl. A rather shapeless one, but there was nothing masculine about my body. Based on my size and proportions, I had to assume I was slightly older than Erika — but not by much.
I must have let my panic take over my face at some point, for Erika was now staring at me with a worried face.
“Is everything alright?”
I stared back at her, trying to determine whether I should tell her about my epiphany. Was she aware of the transformations I had gone through, or did she think of this form as my original form?
////////// END OF PART 4 //////////
Written by Rebecca "Kalista" Scalese
Personal site: beckyverse.com
Tumblr: takaminacchan.tumblr.com
Mail: [email protected]