A flash of lightening lit up the rain swept darkness, lighting for a brief moment a thoroughly drenched young lad, midway through giving his broken down rental car a damned good kicking.

“Piece of junk!” He sputtered, nearly slipping in the mud that had developed around his vehicle as he had worked on it in the deluge. Another kick or two sufficed to centre him upon what to do next. The damned thing wouldn’t be starting again. The rental agency had given him a bloody lemming.

Thomas closed his eyes for a moment, leaning on the car. This was not meant to be how a vacation began.

Six months working after graduating to afford the airfare and the several weeks rent to pay for a little cottage somewhere in the English countryside. And six bloody hours driving around since arriving, lost on the backroads.

He sighed, barely hearing himself as the rain hammered him. Nothing for it but to keep walking along the road and find someone to hopefully help him. Or at least give him a place to stay for the night.

With this objective firmly in mind, and mindful of the increasingly violent nature of the storm, he trudged along the side of the road, trying to make out any potential human habitation along his way.

Ten minutes passed. Then twenty. Then thirty. Thomas was shivering now with cold, as the water finally wormed its way down to soak him to the bone. He glanced up, the rain driving into his face, as lightening flashed again.

There! He scrubbed at his eyes for a moment. He’d seen…something. A house? Some sort of structure. And it damned well was better than dying of hypothermia or some other fool thing. He forged forwards through the rain, making his way up the road, and towards whatever it was that he had spotted.

It took another ten minutes of increasingly frantic walking before he came upon a gate. Or what should have been a gate. Twin stone columns rose along the sides of the path leading up from the road. But no iron gate, no bars to prevent access. Merely the pillars, with some sort of worn statues erected on their pinnacle. Thomas paid them scant attention as he pushed through, bent nearly double as he dashed towards what he could now dimly see was a large manor house of some sort.

He reached the broad doorway, and hammered upon the stout wood portal.

“Hello?” WHAM WHAM WHAM “Hello?!”

His voice was nearly torn away by the storm, and he pounded further on the door, head bowing under the rain. Suddenly it seemed to give way under his fist and he stumbled partly inside.

“Thank y--” Thomas trailed off, staring at his rescuer.

She stood in front of him, holding the door partly open with the rain howling down to still strike Thomas’ back. She was dressed in a classy French maid style outfit, but the material was oddly glossy. Not cloth at all. But that wasn’t what had stopped Thomas in his tracks.

She was wearing some sort of hood, covering her entire head save for a strip around her eyes and nose, with her blonde hair emerging in a ponytail behind her. Around her throat a wide leather collar was buckled, with a red ruby pulsing in the dim light. Her green eyes regarded him silently as he stood there. She gestured for him to enter further, and Thomas noticed a fresh oddity. Her hands were cuffed together, a small chain running between two leather cuffs. Additional chains ran from the cuffs to a leather belt that encircled her waist. He stepped further into the hall at her silent urging, and she swung the door shut against the storm’s raging fury. Its sound was suddenly cut off, almost completely, when the door shut, leaving Thomas and this odd maid standing in silence.

She shuffled backwards, and Thomas’ eyes were drawn downwards, noting additional cuffs and chains securing her ankles. His breath came in a little sharper, a heady mixture of uncertainty and desire beginning to gnaw at him.

He abruptly realized that she was staring at him too and flushed, “I’m…sorry, I’m thankful you, um, let me in.”

The maid gave a small nod. Thomas looked around the hall, giving it a slightly closer inspection. It seemed to be decorated in an old style. Many paintings of nature, of forgotten personages, were arrayed along the walls. High windows to either side of the door gave mute testimony to the raging storm outside. The interior was almost wholly made up of old wood panelling, giving the hallway large though it was, a homey sort of feeling.

He returned his gaze to the maid, still silently watching him, and opened his mouth to try to make fresh conversation, when he heard an odd tinkling noise behind him.

“Oh you poor dear, caught out in in the storm like that.” An oddly accented voice sounded behind him.

Thomas turned and felt that his jaw nearly hit the floor.

A woman seemed to have appeared just behind him, sweeping up out of the dimly lit hallway, and what a woman. She was tall, taller by a few inches than Thomas, with black hair that seemed to cascade off her head. She wore a flowing evening dress, which seemed to be made of the same glossy material the maid wore. From under the dress Thomas could see her feet clad in boots.

He stammered something out to her about his car, and the storm, his eyes seemingly locked on her, and her maid. That feeling in the pit of his stomach had grown. The lady was standing quite close now.

“I’m, I’m sorry to have, um intruded, and I—”

“Nonsense.” She said it firmly, with a smile, “If your car has broken down, you simply must stay. I was just about to sit down to dinner actually.” She ran a hand down his arm, and Thomas shivered, “Oh you poor dear. I’ll have Cassie find you something to wear so you don’t catch your death. And then, some food!”

Thomas thanked her fervently for the offering of food and dry clothes, but she just waved it off with a warm chuckle, her hands running over his shoulder in a friendly manner.

“Not at all dear one. Not at all. Now hop along quick, and I will see you for dinner.”

 

Thomas sat in a high-backed chair, at the end of a long table. The dining room to which he had been guided was a fairly large space, with two tall windows on his left which provided him an ongoing look at the fury of the storm. To his right was a set of double doors which, from the mouth-watering smells emanating, was the kitchen.

He shifted in his chair. The ‘clothes’ that had been laid out for him by Cassie consisted of black shorts, made out of what he was now able to recognize as latex, and a deeply luxurious robe. And that was it. If his clothes hadn’t been completely soaked through, and then whisked away by Cassie whilst he had showered. The maid herself was standing just behind Thomas, having pulled out the chair to urge him to sit. His few efforts at conversation had been met with small nods, so now he just sat and watched the storm.

Suddenly, that tinkling sound again, and Thomas heard her lovely voice, “Oh don’t you look a treat!”

He partly rose but her hands pressed his shoulders to urge him to keep his seat. She ruffled his now dry hair, and then patted Cassie’s arm with a murmured, “well done dear.”

Still as regal as ever, the lady then sat down at the opposite end of the table. Cassie shuffled into the kitchen area and, a few minutes later, emerged followed by two more maids. These, while wearing a similar uniform as Cassie, had their arms drawn behind them and locked in armbinders. Trays were supported in front of them via chains around their waists and linked to ruby embedded collars around their necks. One approached Thomas, as the other went to the lady of the house at the far end. It took nearly a minute before Thomas was able to shake himself from staring at her to realize he was meant to take the covered bowl and drink from the tray.

He blushed as he did so, muttering an apology. The maid made no response, apart from turning and shuffling back into the kitchen, her contemporary having already disappeared. Cassie stood near her mistress, hands demurely clasped in front of her.

Dinner tonight was a hearty, and delicious, stew. Each bite Thomas took sent warm feelings of contentment flowing down into his stomach, and then radiating outwards. He found himself relaxing as the meal went on, and settled back into the chair.

His hostess was interested in all manner of things. Questions about him, what he did, and where he was from. “You are not a local?” she asked, that ever present smile widening just slightly, “Whatever were you doing on these backroads then?”

“Oh I was looking for a cottage that I’d rented. Decided to come over to England to soak up, well England I suppose. Though England appears to have soaked me instead.” His poor attempt at a joke nonetheless got a warm laugh from her, and the conversation continued on for what seemed at once to be hours, and yet also mere moments.

Thomas found his eyes kept wandering to the maids who reappeared on occasion from the kitchen, their trays balancing re-fills of water and wine. His mind whirled with all manner of half formed fantasies, hit mouth just barely managing to hold the conversation with his hostess whenever they entered the room.

As he eyed one of the maids again, imagining for a moment what it would be like to wear such restraints, he was broken out of his little world by his name.

“Hmmm?” he looked up to find the lady looking at him, a knowing smile on her face.

“I said, I suppose you are rather curious about them, hmm?” She flicked her fingers at the two maids who were just leaving, their restraints merrily jingling.

Thomas felt his face flame a deep crimson, and he tried to stammer something. Some sort of excuse, but she just gave another of her warm chuckles.

“It’s quite all right dear one. I rather enjoy having my servants dressed in this fashion. I think you are familiar with it, hmm?” She cocked an eyebrow, and Thomas felt that his blush must have gotten even deeper. She continued, “I simply offer the opportunity for individuals who come here to serve me.”

Thomas looked over to Cassie, who remained in her place behind her mistress. Her servants got to play bondage dress up? He felt a little thrill, deep within him. A thrill that suddenly stabbed at him with her next words.

“Would you like to play this evening?”

Wide eyed he looked to her, his hands clenching and unclenching in his lap, mouth suddenly dry.

Her knowing smile hadn’t changed a bit, “With this storm I think it would be best if you stayed until morning. You needn’t play if you don’t want to, but if you’d like to…explore a little, my offer stands.”

“What…” he cleared his throat in a vain effort to still sound like he was in control of himself, “What would we do?”

She smiled, and rose from her seat. Thomas watched her, tracked her, as she slowly advanced around the table, her eyes never leaving his own. Cassie stepped up, producing from somewhere a small covered tray. She offered it to her mistress, who flicked aside the covering and withdrew a black leather collar. A red ruby throbbed in the light on its front. Thomas’ eyes felt like they were going to bug out of his head, the thrill now becoming an ache inside his stomach and chest.

“Well, if you want to play, you will kneel down in front of me. You will ask me to lock this collar around your neck. And once I have done that, once you are collared…well then you are mine. Bondage, uniforms, all manner of fun awaits us.”

Thomas stumbled to his feet, swaying as her words coursed through him. This woman was offering him everything he’d wanted, all his secret little fetish fantasies. He looked, a little wildly, to Cassie, dressed in her kinky bondage maid outfit, as he had seemed to want to have been dressed. She stood there silent, mute testimony to her mistress’ promise. Thomas felt desire warring with what little was left of his conscious thought, and took a couple halting steps backwards.

The lady sat in the chair he had vacated, crossing her booted legs. Her smile languid, with now just a tinge of hunger.

“You are excited by my offer, are you not Thomas?”

He trembled at her words, cutting as they did to his heart. Yes. Yes he was. But, this…this was…

She uncrossed her legs, spreading them and leaning forward a bit in her chair, “Come here Thomas.” Her eyes locked with his own. He could look nowhere else, as his legs seemed to stumble forwards of their own accord. Stumbling towards this queen, this lady of bondage. He stood before her, hands frenetically fidgeting, as she smiled at him, toying with the collar in her hands.

“Why don’t you kneel down for me Thomas?”

He croaked something, some approximation of words, as he felt his knees buckle beneath him. Then he was on his knees. Kneeling in front of her. Staring up at her, wide eyed. No words came from his mouth, though it worked as though he wanted to say…something. Anything.

She looked down at him, regal in her chair. The light seemed to dance across her flowing latex dress, moving in time with her. She smiled at him again, running a finger along the collar which she had laid across her leg.

“Do you want to play with me tonight Thomas?”

He managed to jerk a nod, convulsively up and down.

“Then you know what you must do.” She settled herself back into the seat, her eyes never leaving his own.

“Please…” he stammered, hands grasping at nothing, “Please I want…I want you to…to collar me.”

Her smile widened, and a fresh light seemed to come to her eyes. She bent forwards from the chair, touching a single fingertip under his chin, tilting his face up towards her, “Do you Thomas? Do you want to become my collared little plaything?”

Each word carefully enunciated. Each word drawn out seemingly, sending little shivers down his body with each syllable.

“Yesssssss.” The word forced out, hissed out, through his teeth.

Her finger left his chin, “Then ask me again.”

“Please…please Mistress, I want you to collar me.”

The title seemed to please her, and she leaned back in. With two desultory flicks of her hand, Thomas’ robe spilled down to gather around his waist and legs, leaving his chest bare. She brought the collar around, dangling it in front of his eyes. It swayed back and forth, like a snake hypnotizing him. She stretched slightly passed him, her mouth close to his ear. In a softened voice, her breath caressing his ear, “Ask me once more Thomas.”

Thomas gathered the tattered shreds of whatever willpower remained, and closed his eyes, “Please Mistress! Collar me!”

“As you wish.” The words were soft, and accompanied by the sudden feel of supple leather banding about his throat. He shuddered as he felt the buckles snug home, a soft gasp as her hand gave the collar a tug, bringing him forward. Then suddenly, she was kissing him. Forcefully. A hand on his cheek, the other holding the back of his head, she seemed almost to be pouring warmth into him.

He felt as though his entire body was suddenly overrun with goosebumps as she slowly, achingly, broke contact.

Thomas opened his eyes again, to find her still staring down at him, her lips still curved in a luscious smile.

“You are mine now Thomas.”

He whimpered as he felt a surge of something inside him. A heady mixture of apprehension and pleasure now coursing through his bloodstream.

“I am your Mistress. You may call me that. Or Mistress Lanea. Now that you wear my collar, it is only right that you know the name of your owner.”

Thomas could think of no response to that, apart from another whimper. Though whether it was of fear or anticipation of her promised ‘play time’ even he could not say.

“Hmmm.” She reached out to tilt his head up, “Blue eyes.” She tapped her finger against his cheek, “Well, I think you are rather underdressed for one of my servants Thomas.” She paused for a moment then, with a giggle, waved her hand in an odd motion.

Suddenly the goosebumps feeling surged up inside him. He began to twist around, a surprised shout strangled in his throat as she kept her hand gripped around his chin.

“My servants wear nothing save rubber and latex. You will love the feeling.” It was a command, not a request, nor an expectation.

She moved his chin up and down, another giggle escaping her, and then released him as she stood.

Thomas looked down, seeing that rather than the latex shorts he was previously in, he was now covered neck to ankle to wrist in a blue rubber catsuit. Even as his mind reeled at the change, there was sudden pressure against his upper arms and shoulders. He cried out and tried to stretch them away to relieve the pressure, but found his arms drawn inexorably behind his back. In spite of all efforts back they went, beyond anything he’d previously thought possible, until he felt the unmistakable sensation of his elbows and forearms touching. More than touching, they felt almost welded together from the elbow to wrist.

A shocked groan emerged from Thomas. He’d never been anywhere near this flexible, yet not a single quiver of pain reached him from his arms. His eyes, scrunched up tight against the assumed onslaught of agony, slitted open in disbelief.

“I quite enjoy the look of armbinders on my toys, Thomas. It helps people’s posture, while completely removing their ability to do much of anything.” She smiled and flicked a wagging finger towards him, “careful standing now.”

He frowned at that, then suddenly felt his body staggering as his feet attempted to hoist him upright, only to nearly crash into the table. Boots! His feet were somehow encased in knee high, high heeled boots!

He turned bulging eyes towards Mistress Lanea, but she was suddenly in front of him, pressing up against him. Pressing a ballgag forcefully into his mouth, silencing his questions. Silencing what was likely to have been terrified babbling.

“Oh I do enjoy doing that part myself pet,” she murmured, buckling the gag securely into his mouth, “Collaring and gagging new servants is a profound joy to me. She patted his cheek, warmth coursing through Thomas again at the contact, “The final bits are always the most fun. Well, and the tour of course.”

As she finished speaking, she seemed to almost shimmer, as though her dress’ reflective light suddenly surged. Thomas blinked his eyes against it,

“Mmmphh? Hhhmmpph!”

Standing before him, still in the same dress and boots, was no longer the imposingly beautiful woman who had welcomed him. Well, not quite the same anyway. Her features had sharpened, though if anything had grown lovelier all the same. Her ears slanted up to points, and her hair was now a deep crimson. If Thomas’ mouth hadn’t been filled with a ballgag his mouth would have fallen open of its own accord. An elf! An honest to goodness elf, dressed in kinky fetish apparel, stood in front of him, that luscious smile curved into a grin of delight.

“Surprised, dear one?” She chuckled to herself as Thomas goggled at her. Seemingly from thin air she produced a hood similar to that worn by Cassie and the maids, though this one was blue, and drew it up and over his head. She set about tugging it into place, ensuring it fit just so, every touch of her hands sending little lightning bolts of warmth through Thomas’ head and chest.

While she fussed over making sure the hood looked right, Thomas stared at her, still in shock at this change. A bloody elf! They weren’t real! Fairy tales come to life! And other such gibbering went through his head.

Finishing with the hood Lanea suddenly produced a leather lead, from whatever hidden bag of tricks the hood had come from no doubt, and clipped it to his collar. She gave it a tug, pulling him forward a bit, and then a wink.

“Follow me dear one, and I’ll explain.” With that she turned and headed off, pulling Thomas after her. In Thomas’ scrambled state of mind he had missed Cassie leaving, and so it was only the two of them now who proceeded deeper into the house. Lanea leading, surefooted, proud, and utterly in control. Thomas following, stumbling, confused, and utterly reliant on his new Mistress.

Deeper and deeper into the mansion they walked, through a seemingly endless series of rooms, hallways, and corridors. Thomas quickly became hopelessly lost, in spite of any attention he tried to attend to his surroundings. Keeping up with Lanea was difficult enough, as he tried to get used to walking in his new boots. She seemed to effortlessly float along, light on her feet in spite of her dress and boots, which seemed to affect her not a bit.

How long they actually walked for, Thomas had no idea. Eventually though, rounding yet another corner, they arrived at the end of a hallway, with a large arched doorway in front. Beside the archway stood Cassie, still restrained and dressed as before. Thomas grunted at her, not really knowing what he was trying to say beyond some sort of acknowledgement that Cassie realized how crazy this all seemed. But she just stared at him, perhaps a glimmer of understanding or sympathy at Thomas’ plight. Perhaps happiness that he too had been captured.

But he had little time to dwell on that, as Cassie pulled the large wooden doors open, with an abbreviated curtsey to Lanea as she swept into the room beyond, Thomas following her mutely. Once inside, Thomas found himself confronted by a scene beyond anything he had been expecting.

He and Lanea stood on a small raised platform, from which a staircase extended down a ways to meet the floor. The room itself elongated towards the far end across from Thomas where a collection of trees seemed to have knotted and twisted themselves into some sort of odd looking entrance or portal. From the trees themselves an array of branches and roots trailed out across the length of the room, running to little clumps where they formed themselves into something approximating cages or holding pens.

Thomas’ eyes were drawn to the occupants of the room below, who seemed to be divided into two distinct groups. A half dozen individuals were arrayed in a rough line, facing towards the side of the room at a right angle to the tree portal thing. They were all naked, save for leather armbinders enclosing their limbs behind their back, leather ankle cuffs, and collars. The collars were all linked together and, as a few of the figures half-heartedly struggled below, Thomas could see the glint and flash of sparkling green emeralds embedded in them.

Attending to the restrained figures were three others. These though, even Thomas could see, were different. They stood taller, moved quicker and more surely. They were dressed in green and brown leathers, with knee high boots. All three had long flowing hair, two a similar crimson as Lanea, the other with dark brown. Elves. More elves. Thomas chewed on his gag and moaned deeply. This was some bloody nightmare fantasy or something. The elves below paid the newcomers no mind, flitting about over their captives, seemingly getting them ready to go somewhere. Two more were still in the odd wooden cages constructed by the tree branches and roots, and it was these final two who were the main focus of the elven ladies below.

Thomas was broken out of his trance, watching as the final two prisoners were hauled out of their living cages to be bound, hobbled, and brought into line, as he was pulled over by his lead to Lanea. She planted a soft kiss on his bare forehead, warming him again, before pulling him over to where living branches had been twisted into a throne-like chair. Here she sat, with Cassie at her right hand, and she pulled Thomas down so that he knelt before her.

Lanea grinned, “Not what you were expecting was it?”

Thomas mutely shook his head, eyes a little glassy, and Lanea stroked his hooded cheek, making little ‘ssh’ing’ noises.

“You see pet, my folk used to dwell in these lands.” She gestured around, to take in the territory outside her mansion, “A great many of us there were. But, we soon found that mankind was multiplying far faster, and had far greater need for land and food.” She shook her head a little, eyes momentarily somber, “So we faded away, not wishing for the land to be torn apart by further war between Elf and Man. Drifted into the aether and, so far as the vast majority of Man is concerned, became nothing more than little fables and myths.”

She smiled down at him, creasing one of his eyebrows, and then waggling her own. Thomas gave an involuntary snort of laughter, and Lanea giggled, resuming her cheek stroking.

“Yes, rather silly of them. We live here still. Out of sight, out of…phase if you will. Few humans can see us, or interact with us at all unless we will it. For most of my kindred, this is the way they like to live.” She rolled her eyes, “Forgotten by man, and forgetting man.”

“But not me.” She played with Thomas’ leash in her other hand, eyeing it and then him, “I, and a few like-minded others, enjoy humans. Enjoy interacting with them, talking with them…playing with them. Most of all the playing with them,” she said with a mischievous smile at him, drawing another muted snort of laughter from the thoroughly restrained Thomas, “We especially enjoy keeping select humans as servants…as playthings…as pets.”

Thomas shivered as she finished, drawing in deep breathes to keep himself centred. Lanea, for her part, kept up her ministrations, every brush of her hand along his hooded head sending pleasing warmth into him. Calming him.

“But Elves, as creatures of the Faerie, cannot take, save that which is freely offered. What’s more, there are only a few fleeting nights every year when most of my kindred are able to easily manifest in particular places and interact with humans. However,” she tapped a finger against Thomas’ collar, “I invented this little collar to help with that. Once properly attached to a willing subject, the collars bring them into our realm, where you are now.” She grinned at him again, her eyes alight with pleasure.

She gestured out at the bound band of prisoners, who had now all been properly restrained in their line, their captors standing to either side, with one in the lead.

“Every October anyone who enters my lands, especially after dark, finds themselves drawn inexorably to my manor doorway. The tiniest of compulsion spells, and innate human curiosity, carries the majority of them over the threshold when it is opened for them. Their curiosity then drives them onwards. To change into new clothes. To try fun new games. To finally, eagerly, ask to be collared. Once they are collared they find themselves restrained, if that was not accomplished already, and brought to this room.”

She smiled, looking down at the collected prisoners below, in memory it seemed of their capture and subjugation.

“From here, well you can see for yourself. Their new mistress arrive to choose their pet for the month, or having inspected them earlier arrange for their prize to be delivered. On Halloween, all are re-gathered here for our annual Faerie Bondage Soiree, where we play, ooooh,” She grinned down at Thomas and made some pleased humming noises, “All manner of wonderful games are played with our captives. And then, the stroke of midnight, their collars are removed, and the entire scene fades before their eyes, leaving them once more in the mortal realm.”

Lanea smiled in satisfaction, “And thus, stories of the faerie are preserved, at least in this small corner of the country. Why, there’s even a little ladies club whose initiation ceremony involves being captured by us in October and returning to tell the tale.” Her smile widened for a moment, “I occasionally like to stop by beyond the month of October, put in the odd appearance as I am able to do so, just to keep them guessing. The look on their faces when I emerge out of the darkness of their bedrooms, leather buckles jingling, my eyes locked on theirs as I dangle a collar in front of them…ooooooh.” She fanned herself, “Most enjoyable, little pet.”

“On those nights, when I wander afield, many is the household that awakens to find that one, or more, of its members have been bound in tight, straining bondage. Played with throughout the night, and then left to steam and moan and struggle until morning. Oh the excuses I’ve heard them try to tell a significant other, or a parent, or a babysitter.” She giggled at the memories visible only to her, jingling Thomas’ leash as she did so.

There they stayed, Lanea lost in her many memories of bondage-by-night humming, softly to herself; Thomas content for the moment to rest his head against her legs as she stroked his head and cheeks. Down below, the coterie of bound humans were led off through the wood portal, disappearing into the shadows beyond it.

After some amount of time had passed Thomas began to shift restlessly on his knees, ‘mmphing’ into his gag and hood. This brought Lanea out of her reverie and back to the present.

“Tired of kneeling here? That’s alright pet, the others are gone and won’t be back until Halloween. Time enough for us to play and get to know one another.”

“Mmmph! Mmmph? Mmwiii ouuu etfff eeeee oooooo?”

“Then I let you go? Oh, but you are another matter my dear.” She had stood up, but kept a light hand pressed to Thomas’ shoulder, keeping him on his knees for the moment. He looked up at her, the insanity of the situation momentarily pushed to the back of his mind by her words.

“Mmmph?”

Lanea patted the top of his head, “You, my dear little Thomas, were not drawn here solely by my spell, as those others below were drawn. No, you came here, were able to see my home, because you are one of those I spoke of before. One who, by some fickle trick of fate, can innately see and speak with the faerie. With the Elven people. A rare, an exceedingly rare event.”

She smiled, running her hand along the collar wrapped around Thomas’ throat, “I have only ever come across a bare handful of other such humans, in all the years that I have made sport of capturing and playing with your kind.”

Thomas blinked at that, then, as realization slowly dawned on him, turned to stare wide-eyed at Cassie. She stood where she had placed herself initially, watching him connect the dots. Some mixture of sympathy at his plight, and happiness of another human to interact with, seemed to flow from her eyes.

“Yes my dear,” Lanea’s soft voice whispered into his ear as she drifted around him, going behind him, drawing him upright, “You begin to see now. Humans like you are far, far too precious a thing to be allowed to leave, to face the vagaries and perils of the mortal realm. You, my dear maids, and the small, too small collection of others I have encountered are to be treasured.” She wrapped an arms around his chest, crushing his armbinder’d arms back against her. Her other hand gently gripped his jaw and collar, “You are to be protected, and made safe from all harm.” Her breath seemed to whisper on the back of his neck, though the hood covered it.

She pivoted him around, one arm holding him in close, the other tracing his collar with a soft finger. Her smile was gentle, and loving as she gazed into his panicked eyes, “There will be no Halloween release for you Thomas. You need never wander in darkness, or in doubt ever again.”

Thomas began to squirm, the panic beginning to overwhelm her spell. This was nuts! This was insane, he didn’t want to stay here! She tightened her grip around him slightly, beginning to sway, and gently shh’ing him. His panic was inundated by those warm feelings again, this time coupled with a feeling of peace. Of safety. He found his desire to escape suddenly disappearing as she held him, cooing softly to ease his racing mind.

“I will keep you, Thomas. Safely bound and collared, here with me.”

She kissed his gagged lips, and he moaned deeply into his gag.

“You are mine. My treasured pet. My precious plaything. Welcome home.”