Continued from: Chapter Four

Panicked energy thrummed through Keara’s body as she was led out of the meal hall. She flinched away from each gaze of another of Pantea’s slaves if she happened to see them looking, hating the way the demoness casually displayed her. Displayed her ownership of her with the collar and lead, and with her tail. Hated it. But also thrilling at the feeling. And hating that as well. The whole bloody morning had left Keara awash in these conflicting feelings, from her own dreams to the moment Pantea had returned to dress her in this bloody dress. She felt her rage like an ugly, burning lump in her chest. Pulsing and surging with every new slight. Every new humiliation. And every internal thrill at what Pantea was doing to her.

The introduction to Pantea’s thralls…her other slaves, had been brutal. Keara had felt so many eyes stabbing into her, ogling her and her subservience to the succubus. She had been on the verge of breaking and running right then, had Pantea not had her tail around her waist and hands on her body. The large room, the multiple other slaves, Pantea’s gloating over her…it had been too much. And then…and then there had been the breakfast. Where Pantea had…had…

Keara squeezed her eyes shut and shuddered. If she had been back in Faerie and a human slave had been between her legs while she ate, that would have been rather nice all things considered. The proper duties of a human towards an Elf after all. But this…this had been different. Had been Pantea casually pleasuring her while she ate, with Keara helpless to stop her. Well, not helpless exactly but…but enjoying it. Pressing herself back against Pantea’s hand. Reveling in the feel of Pantea’s tail curling about her.

Keara silently and viciously cursed at herself. How could she be enjoying this? Any of it? Why were her body and mind betraying her? Keara had to get away. This place was changing her. Molding her and her desires. Pantea was…

No. She wasn’t going to finish that thought. The demoness had enough power already over her.

Without meaning to that thought sent her mind careening back to the dream. Her dream that, now that she was awake, made her want to scream with terror that her mind wasn’t her own. Or punch something in rage. Or…or moan in desire…

She remembered running. Before at least. In some other dream. Fleeing something that had been speeding after her, intent on some evil purpose. Keara remembered that.

But last night she had been floating. With nowhere to run, and most importantly nothing to run from, it was…peaceful. Oddly relaxing.

“Keara.”

The voice had drifted in from the ether of her dream, making her awareness spike a little. A mental presence that seemed familiar to her and yet…not.

“Keara.”

When it called her a second time, the space around her had suddenly changed. Keara was floating no longer, but kneeling. Around her a vast throne room rose on all sides, the architecture speaking of power beyond comprehension. Keara herself had been kneeling on a raised dais looking out over the large hall that was filled with blurry and half formed shapes of supplicants. Then she had given a mental squeak as she realized that she had been bound in some exotic getup.

She wore a slick black latex bustier, baring her midriff, and a pair of booty shorts made from similar material. Around her neck was a thick, high black leather collar. Her arms had been bound behind her in a boxtie with leather straps, and her legs were folded into a surprisingly comfortable frogtie. Even as Keara had started to come to terms with her imaginary bondage, a hand had descended to gently take hold of her chin and raise her head backwards. A face came into view, and Keara had trembled in her dream a Pantea’s features loomed over her.

The demoness had smiled, “My precious little pet. I own you.”

Keara had moaned at that. Despair and desire warring for control as the words rushed through her, and found herself being pressed into Pantea’s legs that were splayed to either side of her. In front of both of them, half a dozen shapes began to drift forward from the crowd of supplicants. Began to take on more definite form.

“I am your Mistress.”

Keara’s eyes had widened then, as she watched the shapes in front of her take on definite forms. Forms she recognized. Her tormentors. They were here! She tried to fling herself backward as they advanced, faces twisting in scorn and mockery. But dream-Pantea kept her there, forced her to watch as her childhood bullies advanced on her. A ballgag had materialized just as Keara tried to scream, and she sobbed into the gag as she saw cruel grins on the faces of the nearest. This was a nightmare. She had to wake up. Had to—

Hellfire had flared over her head, drawing a gasp from Keara as it arced into the nearest dream-Elf and burned it to ash. Then another. And another. Down the line the flames marched, each of her tormentors consigned to a fiery demise in her dreamworld. Keara had sobbed with relief into her gag, slumping back against dream-Pantea’s legs.

“You will be safe with me, pet.” Pantea’s soothing voice returned. Like she cared for Keara. Protective. An odd contrast to the roaring flames that had arced over Keara’s head, and the Elf moaned in confused, exhausted, desire as the succubus’ hands had roamed over her body, “Tucked away from the world.”

“Desired.”

Keara had whimpered and arched her back, thrusting her chest out as she felt experienced fingers playing with her nipples. This was a dream. This was a dream and she had to resist it. Pantea had gotten into her mind. This was…she couldn’t…

More images had suddenly flashed before her eyes as she struggled in her bonds on that dais. Images from Pantea’s bedroom. Of Pantea pleasuring Keara. Making her scream with the sheer enjoyment of what was being done to her. Of her body bound and controlled by the demoness.

“A jewel of my collection.”

Keara’s dream face heated at that, but the dream gave her no chance to break free. Pantea was kissing her neck and shoulders now, making her moan. Even as the Pantea projected in front of her pleasured the other Keara to massive, shuddering orgasms. It was obscene. It was devious. It was…was…exquisite…

“You are my slave.”

Keara had tried to squirm away in her dream, tried to break free, but Pantea had held her fast. Keara’s eyes went wide in shock and denial as she watched her other self sleepily tell Pantea her name. Her name! This had to be a trick. She could never…would never…surrender that to a demon. That wasn’t…was it possible? Keara had shuddered, confusion reigning in her mind as she watched Pantea almost lovingly gag her, and then cradle her as she lost consciousness and slept. That couldn’t have been what happened. She would never…never…

“You will be happy here…”

The words came, soft and quick as shadows, flitting about her. Echoing across her mental dreamscape. They had sent a dozen more images flickering around within her vision. Images of Pantea. Of Keara herself. Of slavery. Of Pantea’s dominion. Of her…bound. Submitting to the demon. And…and…smiling?

Which is when Keara had woken up. And realized that far from being the madness of nightmare and dreams, she was living it. It had taken everything in her not to sob in despair when Pantea had nonchalantly called her by her name when she had come in to get her. She had been so weak, letting the succubus in. Giving her own name to her!! But even as the despair had risen up to choke her, the dream had flashed before her. As it had continued to flash before her all through her waking moments this morning.

Her tormentors crisped to ash. Images of her being securely, safely held in her bondage. Kneeling between Pantea’s legs. Of the succubus’ whispered promises. Safety. Ownership. A…a jewel.

Over and over again. Keara shuddered as the leash pulled at her collar again. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. Demons weren’t supposed to be understanding. They weren’t supposed to be comforting. And they damn bloody well weren’t supposed to be…likeable…

She had already caught herself being on the verge of begging more than once since waking up. More than once, wistfully imagining what Pantea could do for her if she begged her for comfort. For pleasure. Resistance, such as what remained to her, was going to be hellishly difficult.

Keara winced, a microscopic, fleeting smile sprinting across her face. Gone in an instant, but the brief bit of cheer at the stupid little pun bucked her up a little. She had to keep trying. She had to hold out. Her mother wouldn’t leave her here.

She ket her arms hugged around her chest as Pantea led her away, once more a hand on the small of Keara’s back, and the tail wrapped around her waist. Thrumming with reassuring energy. Keara hated it. And loved it. Despised it, and craved it. Apart from the collar locked around her neck, she was free. Which was going to change very soon when they reached whatever devilish playroom Pantea had in store for her. Keara probably wouldn’t be free of restraints for a long, long, time after this moment. Which meant if she was going to make a break for it, this was probably the best chance she was going to get.

Just as they were about to exit the meal hall, and enter a crossroads of corridors, Pantea’s tail slithered off of Keara. Flicking out to caress the cheek of a nearby slave. The girl that Pantea and her band of thralls had kidnapped when they had seized Keara. The Latina woman holding her leash had an almost possessive air to her as she joined Pantea’s tail in stroking and teasing the girl. Keara didn’t look too closely though. A roaring was suddenly present in her ears, her whole body tensing up. This was it. She sucked in deep breaths of air, flooding her system and spooling up adrenaline. Her senses sang to her, her muscles demanded movement. Action. Fighting!

Keara couldn’t hear Pantea’s words as she bid the trio near the door farewell. She couldn’t hear as she was tugged out of the door, the succubus continuing to monologue about what she was going to do to the Elf. Then, as though she had breached through the surface of a lake back in Faerie, Keara’s hearing snapped into focus like her vision.

Now.

“Keara, I’m—” Pantea began to say something from beside her, the demoness’ attention fully fixed on what she was saying. What she was doing. Not fixed on what Keara was going to do.

The Elf suddenly exploded into motion, using both hands to rip her leash away from Pantea’s loosened grip. It came free easier than expected, and Keara staggered a half step. Her eyes, filled with defiant fire, flashed up to meet Pantea’s own. Every muscle in her screamed for more. To launch herself at her captor and smash her to the ground. To wipe the smug expression that she just knew the demoness flung her way. To finally, finally, clear her mind of her doubts. Her fears. Her…desires…

“Oh you silly little slave,” The succubus seemed an odd blend of disappointed and excited. She smiled at Keara with a predatory smile that somehow put off a deeply sensual air, “I’ll have to punish you for this.”

“I’m not a slave!” Keara shouted, immersing herself in her anger, her rage, to stop the blushing response that tried to win out. Perhaps a bit more loudly than needed. Perhaps to convince herself as well. Shore up her mental defences. Remind herself what needed to happen. She clenched her fists as she willed her body to cease its rebellions and get back under her control, “I’ll never give in! I’m LEAVING!”

Pantea’s expression, excited, disappointed, understanding, all blended together. She raised a hand, that bloody grin on her face, “You can try Baby Elf. But if you want to avoid punishment you’ll place your leash back in my hand and kiss my shoes in apology for making a scene.” Her lips curved, “Be a good little pet now.”

Keara’s vision tinged red, and she snarled, “NEVER!!” She turned and bolted down the hallway, choosing a random direction away from Pantea. She had to get some distance, centre herself, and then find a portal. Even as she began to sprint Pantea’s theatrically disappointed sigh followed her, “Punishment it is then.”

The confrontation had drawn a couple of the thralls out from the meal hall, and they stood in a loose grouping that was in Keara’s way. Including the trio Pantea had stopped to chat with. One of them stepped forward, with the woman pulling the slave girl behind her. The heavyset, leering man from last night came at Keara. The one who had helped kidnap her. Had brought her to the Infernal Realms. He reached out his hands in an effort to stop Keara. The Elf let out a shriek of rage, a wordless cry of defiant, frenzied wrath, and slammed into him in a flurry of limbs.

To any outside observer the pair of them went down in a twisting pile. Keara’s voice rose in wordless pitch as she thrashed around with him, her hands moving in a blur. The man gave a pair of pained grunts, and a cry that was suddenly silenced. Keara rose from on top of him, her dress torn, and the sheer leg coverings largely destroyed, like an avenging angel, her red hair wild around her. The man lay at her feet, her leash used to bind his hands behind him. A piece of fabric, some of it from Keara’s dress, some of it from the man’s own shirt, was used as a gag.

A few of the other slaves who had begun to step towards the fighting pair, now drew up short. The takedown had lasted perhaps ten seconds, Keara almost a blur as she had bound the heavy set man. The Elf bared her teeth at them, daring a challenge, and then set off at a sprint once more down the hallway.

She was pursued, harried along, by Pantea’s laughter.

Keara’s blood was up, singing along inside her as she seemed to almost glide down the corridor. The hated shoes, leg coverings were gone, the forced dressing largely destroyed. And it became even more so as she neared a turn in the corridor and came face to face with another thrall. Another human male, though this one considerably slimmer than the bastard who had helped kidnap her. He was quite young, and his mouth dropped open in surprise as had a pair of seconds to gawp at the sight of a furious Elf barreling towards him. Then her hands seized him by his shirt, and then there was nothing but frenzied, confusing motion. The boy cried out as Keara wrenched his hands behind him, binding his wrists and throwing a few wraps around his ankles to connect him into a hogtie. That officially moved the dress into something bordering on junk status, with strips torn out of it all over. She used the boy’s own shirt to gag him as she chanced a glance behind her.

Half a dozen thralls were slowly advancing down the hallway towards her. All of them carried binding implements of some sort, mostly rope, though a few had long leather belts as well. Keara bared her teeth at them, and sent the boy she had just bound sliding down towards them. A few shouts of surprise and half muffled curses followed as he impacted their legs, and she turned to run again.

“That was rather unkind Keara,” Pantea’s voice tsked next to her ear.

Keara almost levitated from where she crouched and spun in a half circle, eyes desperately stabbing around her. Nothing. No one near her, though the thralls were picking themselves up again.

A sigh, again from next to her ear, and she looked past the thralls to where Pantea stood, her hands ostentatiously on her hips, “You really are being a very silly slave, Keara. This only ends one way for you.”

Keara wanted to respond to her. Wanted to scream her defiance once more. Wanted the demoness to know just how much the Elf hated this place. Hated what had been done to her. What might still be done to her. She wanted to scream.

But with her senses heightened, she could also see Pantea clearly. See her expression with as much detail as though she stood in front of her. She saw the succubus’ smile. Saw Pantea’s glimmer of understanding in her eyes. Saw not an ounce of cruelty, or of mockery. Saw Pantea’s care for her, her desire to give Keara pleasure. Saw…

Keara shook her head with a growl, and the slight, almost imperceptible glamour that Pantea had been feeding into her vision evaporated, and her mind cleared of the now rather obviously overdone feelings of pleasure and warmth and safety that had flowed through her as she looked at Pantea. Keara scowled as a pleased laugh from the succubus rang out, “Oh very good Baby Elf! That was rather impressive.” Pantea began slowly advancing down the hallway, her pace and demeanor that of a stalking predator. Her tail quivered and lashed eagerly behind her, “Well if the prey will not be ensnared, then I suppose we shall have a hunt instead!”

Keara didn’t need to stick around to see more. She was off like a jackrabbit, once more pursued by Pantea’s burbling laughter.

The first door she came to was wedged shut. The next, two corridors down was suddenly circled with chains as she approached. And so was the next, and the next. She passed by corridors where flames filled doorways entirely. Raging infernos that were somehow contained, yet were almost certainly drawn from the Pits themselves. Keara fled from those with gasping fear. Other corridors were blocked by groups of thralls. More of the bastards turning out with binding implements. Each of those corridors she briefly halted, considering trying to bull through them, but there were always too many. Always more than she could handle.

And so she ran on. And on. Down corridors that were somehow free, past windows that were now blocked up with stone. Past door after door that had been secured with some infernal magic. Tears of frustration streaked Keara’s cheeks as she ran. She was losing. Her time free from Pantea was dwindling with every further second she spent in this maze of a place.

She came to another crossroads in the corridors, a six way split. Two thralls stood in the middle of it, rope held and ready for binding. A woman with nothing but a cowboy hat and collar was confidently twirling a lariat, while chuckling at something her companion had muttered. He, for his part, was a bit shorter than she was and looked nervous. At least, Keara thought he looked nervous. They were both facing the wrong way.

Neither of them even heard Keara coming until she was already upon them.

The woman let out a cry of surprise as she was borne to the ground, a wrist and ankle rapidly knotted up and bound together. The boy with her let out something that was more like a shriek, and held up bands of rope in front of him like they were some sort of ward. Keara reached up, grabbed a wrist, and thirty seconds later was lowering the boy to the ground, his arms secured in a boxtie. More rope was wrenched between their teeth, gagging them as best Keara could, as her heart hammered in her chest and her breath came in ragged gasping sobs. She got both of them into firm hogties, and rolled the woman over to the boy, where without missing a beat she began pressing herself against him and happily grunting.

Keara stood up to continue and let out a low moan of frustrated despair. Thralls filled the corridors in front of her. And behind her. A single corridor was left free and clear. Not a single person in sight, and nowhere for them to hide.

She was being herded. Keara was being herded like she was some wayward horse or sheep. She wrapped her arms around herself once more, trying to stop her body from shuddering as she swept her eyes over the thralls as they slowly advanced. Keara blinked more angry tears away, dashing them on a swiftly raised arm. She wanted to run. Just run and run and run. But she couldn’t. This place was not Faerie. She had no friends here. No allies to call upon. Her magic, apart from the energy imbued within her own body, was paltry against the sort of forces Pantea could bring to bear. It was hopeless. She was helpless.

A small voice from deep in her mind was nibbling at her. Asking if it would be such a bad thing to give in. To let herself be bound and brought back to Pantea. She wouldn’t gain anything but pain from continued resistance at this point. She had tried, and failed. Better to wait for another opportunity than to go down to final defeat.

Keara shook her head, a low moan escaping her. No. No.

“NO!!” With a shout she spun on her heels and took off down the offered corridor. Down the herding lane. Into what she knew, in her despairing heart, was a trap. But she would not be some docile taken thing. She would not march willingly back into captivity. She would fight. She had to fight.

Keara slammed through the door on the far side, big double doors that stayed thrust open as she entered the room. She slid to a halt as she saw that the two ways out on the far side of the room already had small crowds of thralls covering them. The room itself was relatively sparsely furnished, with a large space given over to floor padding, and a few chairs and tables scattered around. Keara turned to run again, but found the corridor she had just come down filled by nearly twenty of Pantea’s servants. All advancing carefully towards her.

Keara backed up into the room, turning so that she could keep an eye on all of the thralls as best she could. Her chest plunged up and down with ragged sobs, which were offset somewhat by the rictus snarl that seemed affixed to her face. Tears shone from her cheeks, and somehow seemed to only enhance her mystical stature. Many of the thralls, even so long in the company of a succubus, watched her with an odd sort of wonder. Leavened with a healthy dose of caution. All of them kept a decent distance, and refrained from closing in.

Keara discovered why a few minutes after she was cornered, as Pantea swept into the room. She was still dressed in her elegant, slinky outfit, her heels making sharp clacking sounds against the floor. Apart from the tail, the red skin, and the slight horns, Pantea could have been right at home in one of the clubs that Lanea had spoken with Keara about. The human mating ritual ones. But she had those things, and Keara found her gaze captured by the tail that lashed eagerly behind Pantea. Imagining that tail writhing up her legs again. Playing with her…

The succubus clucked in mock disapproval, a playful glint in her eye as she approached.

“There’s no escape Keara. I understand why you wanted to try, my fiery little huntress, but I will still need to punish you for it.”

Keara chose not to rise to that bit of bait. Instead her eyes darted around, vainly searching for some path away from where she was. She had the distinctly unpleasant sensation of being a poor doe brought to bay by hunting hounds. And now the hunter had arrived. Pantea was slowly moving forward, every movement imbued with sensual power. Her eyes smouldered as they raked over Keara, and the Elf stifled a shiver of fear and desire as she briefly met the succubus’ eyes.

“You’ve ruined your dress,” the demoness noted casually. Keara felt a flush come over her, and made a small growling noise in her chest. She had no damned reason to feel ashamed of that. It wasn’t her’s to begin with! It was a captive’s set of clothes. Elegant though it might have been, it was merely a sign of her imprisonment. She wasn’t ashamed! She wasn’t! Damn it!

“I’ll have to punish you for that, too.” Pantea’s tongue ran briefly across her teeth and lips, a seducer’s smile on her face, “I wasn’t anywhere close to done enjoying the sight of you in that outfit. At the very least, you’ve lost decision-making privileges on clothing.” She tapped a finger to her lip, her eyes on Keara as she grinned and asked in a sing-song voice, “I wonder what I’ll have you begging to do to earn that back?”

Keara held her tongue. She wanted to scream at the woman. She wanted to bellow her defiance. But she had to wait. She needed to wait. Pantea was trying to bait her. The demoness was still stalking towards her, the damnable smile sending an unwelcome thrill through Keara. Focus, damn it!

“You’ve been so mean to my other pets when all they wanted to do was help keep you in line.” Pantea gave a disappointed shake of her head, waggling a finger at Keara, “Naughty slut. You’ll be apologizing to each of them you attacked later, I promise you that.”

Keara ground her teeth and thrust her jaw out angrily. Fat chance of that.

Behind Pantea, Keara could see more thralls crowding in. Swelling the ranks of those already present. That quiet Latina woman and the former Elven slavegirl were with them. Keara had hardly spotted them before her eyes flashed back to Pantea as the demoness put her hands on her hips, her voice ringing out imperiously,

“Still, I’d prefer not to ruin my nice dress, or let you be mean to more of my pets. This is your last chance to surrender, Keara. Giving up won’t spare you punishment, you’ve misbehaved far too much for that. But if you get on your knees and apologize, to me and to your peers,” her arm stretched out to wave languidly at the thralls, “You’ll spare yourself the worst of it.”

She returned her hand to her hip, and smiled at Keara.

Keara trembled with poorly disguised rage as Pantea finished, the succubus’ entire stance stoking her fiery temper to incandescence. This…this creature wanted her to apologize? Apologize!? For doing what any sane being would have done?

No. Never.

Not without a fight.

Keara bared her teeth in answer to Pantea’s demand, and without further preamble launched herself at the demoness with a scream of fury. Her blood sang in her ears, and her vision took on that hyper focused quality that sprang upon any Elf in combat. Everything seemed to suddenly be moving so very slowly as Keara leapt towards Pantea. She would deliver a series of lightning strikes, enough to knock Pantea off her rhythm, and then try to shoulder through the thralls. There was something odd about them, now that Keara's awareness was hyper focused. But first she had to beat Pantea out of the way. Keara struck beautifully, elegantly. Every blow aimed at particular muscle clusters that would send any being gasping with shock to the ground. Her movements were grace given form, her attacks almost an art form.

And Pantea blocked them. Every blow intercepted by an arm, deflected by her lashing tail, or ducked entirely with a teasing grin. Keara launched a flurry of blows, each one faster than a human eye could ever have followed. Not a single one reaches its target.   Keara let out a frustrated scream as the last of her strikes was harmlessly blocked and she twisted away from Pantea. Chest heaving and circling her once more. Her eyes were wide with desperation, with anger, as the demoness gave her shoulders a sensual roll that somehow made Keara's chest tighten with desire.   Bloody damned succubus!! The thought raged through Keara's mind as she readied herself again. She had to try again. she couldn't give up. couldn't...couldn't surrender. Keara could feel her collar still tight against her throat. Could see in Pantea's eyes all manner of promises about what was going to happen to her if she failed. If she gave in to enslavement.   Keara couldn't. She...she wouldn't...

In front of her Pantea tut tutted, shaking her head with the air of a disappointed teacher in an unfortunately slow student. She made a show of looking over her own dress, running a hand down one of her sides and making a pleased sound at the undamaged fabric.

“I guess I didn’t need to worry about my dress,” Pantea smirked, “If that’s all you have for me Keara, it’s not in any danger at all…”

Keara snarled and hurled herself at the succubus once more in a whiplash inducing barrage of strikes and attacks. But just as before her blows were blocked. Just like before the demoness remained just beyond her reach. Beyond her ability to hit back. Unlike before though, the demoness was not content to simply defend. This time she pivoted around Keara in an eyeblink, and slashed her arm around in a single, sharp, blush inducing smack to Keara’s rear.

Keara stumbled away from Pantea, whirling around to stare wide, wondering dagger filled eyes at the succubus. How…? How was she doing this…? Why was she…? Why did Keara feel…?

“All in all it’s probably good for you to have thrown this tantrum now,” Pantea crossed her arms and purred, “Don’t get me wrong, you’re still getting punished after this. But a few minutes from now, when I have you all bound up again, you’ll have a better understanding of your place here.”   Pantea leaned on one leg and took a moment to check her nails before fixing her gaze back on Keara. Keara, for her part, bared her teeth.   “You’re mine, Keara. My pet, my property, my slave. You are not getting away, because you belong at my feet. And hopefully seeing how much I outclass you will drive that fact home for you, Baby Elf.”

The words were barely out of Pantea's mouth before Keara hurtled forward again, a keening wordless sound ripping from her throat as she attacked again. Her blows were slightly less graceful, her movements slightly less fluid, but she made up for those lacks with an absolute fury that ran through every muscle. Every fiber of her being she focused on winning through, past Pantea. Past the gloating, superior demoness. Out of the hellish prison she found herself in. Back to Faerie. Back home.

Pantea blocked the first three of her blows. But Keara had been expecting the nonchalant approach Pantea had adopted. Expected it, and adapted. Her fourth blow snaked under Pantea's arm, and it was only with an inelegant jerk of her chin that Pantea avoided Keara's fist. Keara let out a hungry growl of triumph and rapidly pressed her advantage. A half dozen strikes followed, with two of them forcing Pantea into jerky motions that just barely avoided Keara landing a blow. She was doing it! She was--!   Keara's seventh blow lanced out, and suddenly Pantea's arms were wrapped around the limb, pulling Keara tightly into a firm hug. Pantea's tail whipped around Keara's torso and upper arms, crushing them snugly together as the demoness leaned in to lick Keara's ear. The Elf shuddered in a mix of fear, revulsion, and ardent desire as her sensitive ear was sensually teased.

"There, you see my pet? You could have been having all sorts of play just like this right about now if you weren't being so foolish. As it is..." Pantea's hands flashed down behind Keara, and the Elf girl screamed.   She felt her arms drawn together, her elbows close to touching with a band of leather that locked them in place. Pantea disengaged from her embrace and seemed to almost dance away, her playful smile edged with predatory hunger in full force.

Keara stood in place, shock rooting her to the spot for a handful of moments. Her arms were useless. Her elbows bound behind her back, they would do her little good now. She squirmed against them, hoping against hope that she could somehow win free, even as she felt fresh tears flow down her cheeks. This couldn't be the end. It couldn't be...   "I'll never give in!" She tried to snarl at Pantea. Tried to infuse the words with stiff and unyielding resistance. But Keara had no idea if that came across. She wasn't even certain she could still put up such a solid front. Her hopes of escape, of ending this nightmare, were evaporating like morning mist in front of her eyes.

She just wanted to crumple to the ground and sob.

Pantea’s voice cut through, “Alright Keara. That’s enough playing around. It’s time to calm down and go back to where you belong.” And the demoness was moving again. Striding towards Keara with a sense of inevitable triumph. Keara tried to back away only for the succubus to leap forward and wrench another belt around her, this time targeting her knees.

Keara minced backwards, despair clawing at her mind. She was being taken again. Reduced again to a prisoner. A plaything of the depraved lunatic hellspawn that had taken her originally. The succubus that was going to turn her into some housebroken pleasure pet. Who was going to keep her down in the Infernal Realms for eternity. Keara would never see Faerie again. Never be able to go…home.

That thought sent one final surge of anger coursing through her. With the strength of despair, knowing that it was a losing proposition, Keara flung herself into one last act of resistance. As Pantea closed in Keara summoned what willpower remained to her and jumped into the air, twisting in an elegant twirl to aim her legs at Pantea and launch a powerful kick at the succubus. The Elf took a savage joy at the brief look of surprise that flashed across Pantea’s face and exulted as her feet flew towards the demoness’ torso. Keara had her. She had her!!

Then, suddenly, Pantea wasn’t there anymore. In an eyeblink she had moved from where Keara had been aiming and was suddenly to the side and beneath Keara. Keara’s feet passed through empty space, her momentum carrying her a few feet forward, before she began to drop back towards the floor. Another failure. Another missed attack. Keara was already opening her mouth to snarl in frustration, already bracing herself for the impact of the hard floor, when her fall was arrested only a few feet after it began.

Two strong arms intercepted her, catching her. Pantea had caught her, bridal style, holding the partially bound Elf in an intimate embrace. Keara’s mouth, already open to snarl in frustration, froze like a doe suddenly lit up by bright light. Her expression of frustrated rage now one of shock pure and simple. Keara stared up from the embrace of Pantea’s arms into the smiling countenance of her captor, a sudden thrill of…of something, racing through her as she met the succubus’ eyes.

“Hi there.” Pantea purred with a pleased grin.

Keara stared up at Pantea's smiling face and felt her own suddenly flush brilliant scarlet. She opened her mouth, trying to find words. Trying to find anything to say. And then she closed it. And her flush deepened.

Pantea leaned over her and kissed her forehead, "I love it when you blush for me Baby Elf. It brings out your eyes."

Keara wanted nothing more in that moment then to have a hole open up in the ground and be sucked down into it. Never to be seen again. It was clearly impossible to die from embarrassment, since she was somehow still here. Still cradled in Pantea's arms like a human bride. Still looking up at that smiling, predatory, demonic face...and feeling...torn.   Why? Why in the blackest pits of this place was Keara feeling like this? Why did Pantea's embrace inject just the tiniest bit of security, of safety into the maelstrom of her mind. She was the enemy. She had bloody well kidnapped Keara and intended to keep her as a damned sex pet! Keara had no business feeling attached to the succubus. No business marveling at Pantea's eyes. At her lithe form. At the way she moved, all swaying sensuality. At the way she spoke to Keara. How she made Keara feel...wanted. Needed. Like she belonged.

Keara gave a wordless moan at that, and realized that Pantea's grin had widened considerably. She felt the barest touches of Pantea's mental presence, and realized the succubus probably had a very good idea of what had been running through Keara's mind. She began to squirm in her bonds, in Pantea's arms, trying to put effort into one last fight. One last push.   But Pantea held her close. Held her solidly in her grip. And her smile never wavered in its hunger for her. Projecting naked desire for Keara that lashed the Elf's sense of self. Her mental defences, raised high against such attacks, were being mined at their base. Foundations becoming shakier as the dim shape of realization began to wriggle into Keara's mind.

"I'm...I'm not...not giving in," Keara managed to stammer out, with a force of effort tearing her eyes away from Pantea. Instead, she addressed the words to Pantea's ample chest. Which did not help Keara's frame of mind one bit. But it was still easier than meeting that gaze. That gaze that seemed to bore into her mind. Her soul. The gaze that seemed likely to bear uncomfortable realizations for Keara.   Pantea's chuckle thrummed through her chest, and into Keara.

Damn it.

“I’m sure you won’t give in Baby Elf,” Pantea patronized, tracing her lips briefly over Keara’s forehead, “And that’s alright. I want you to struggle. To try to break free. Because that’s the only way for you to realize escape is impossible, and your slavery is unbreakable. Until you learn that though,” her grin widened, “well, that’s what bondage is for. You just be patient for a few minutes, and I’ll get you all tied up and sorted out.”

Keara shuddered at that, trying to squirm in Pantea’s arms again, but her ardent fire from the escape attempt was fast fading. She had failed. Failed so utterly that Pantea seemed to have hardly broken a sweat in recapturing her. Keara’s attention was wholly inward focused, brooding upon her failures and the conflicting, shameful feelings she had experienced, that Pantea’s shout made her jump a little in the demoness’ arms.

“Okay people! First things first. I know some of you started up a betting pool about how Keara’s tantrum was going to go. Everyone who lost: pay up, and then get your soon-to-be-red asses over to my rooms to await punishment for doubting your magnificent mistress.” Keara flushed a deeper scarlet and squeezed her eyes shut. They had been betting on this? Was everyone here more observant than her? Keara was feeling smaller and smaller as a tidal wave of embarrassment, shame, and a welter of other emotions pressed her downwards. Ever downwards. The thrill of Pantea’s arms wrapped around her, of being in bondage in her grip, was distinctly unhelpful.

Pantea was saying something else, talking to someone else, and rough laughter followed her words. Keara shuddered and moaned, trying to twist away from view as what was probably laughter at her expense roiled her. That roaring was there in her ears again, but now it wasn’t brought on by anger, by rage. No, now it was chiefly despair that sunk Keara down past her ability to hear all that transpired around her. She opened her eyes as Pantea’s hands briefly tightened on her, to watch dully as the heavyset man came stumping into the room, scowling at her. And the former human slavegirl her people had taken, she was brought in and stared at Keara.

Keara was hardly being a standard-bearer for Elven resolve and grandeur. Somehow the girl's presence made things worse. It was one thing for Pantea's other thralls to see her like this, as they had little experience of Elves anyway. It was another for a trained girl, used to their worship, to see Keara as a prisoner. One who apparently couldn't even cobble together a decent escape attempt. Which made the Elf groan in further shame and try to turn away. But that brought her face to face with Pantea’s gorgeous breasts. Which brought further embarrassment to Keara, who shuddered and gave a plaintive moan.

Why couldn’t she catch one, tiny, miniscule break in this place!?

Keara suddenly squealed as she felt Pantea nuzzle her neck, trailing her lips across her jawline before ending just shy of her…her ears. Please…please let her not…not do that...

“Now, let’s get you bundled up and punished my silly pet, so that we can move on with a clean slate, hmm?” Keara swallowed and chose to say nothing. Any of the thoughts bouncing around her head would only draw further laughter from Pantea or earn additional punishment from the succubus. She didn't want either. Keara suddenly frowned. Really? That was her consideration, first and foremost? She didn't want Pantea to laugh at her!?   Keara groaned and buried her head into Pantea's chest. And then, a few seconds later, realized what she had just done for comfort and tore herself back, glaring up at the demoness.

Pantea’s nuzzle had come just as she crossed the threshold into a different room. A room with dark grey walls, with all manner of punishment equipment racked along them. Tables filled with gear, bondage crosses glowering darkly, chains liberally festooned about the place, and more. Chastity equipment, piles and piles of rope, neatly hung and stacked leather gear of all sorts, shelves of gags, and a plethora of different paddles, crops, whips, floggers, canes, and other implements of corporal discipline. Keara wilted into Pantea’s arms, shivering as her eyes darted around the place. Hopping and skipping from one fearful piece of equipment to the next. Her lip quivered, and it took a force of will to still it.

Pantea’s voice rumbled her chest once more, “After we’re done here, I think I’m going to stick you in a chastity belt.” The voice was idle. Like she was remarking on the weather, or what she was going to have for breakfast. Not discussing further humiliation and degradation of her captive. Further restrictions on Keara. Further subjugation of her Elven prisoner, “Plug you up for awhile. I don’t think that collar is sufficient to remind you of your place right now.”

Keara growled angrily, but her eyes were locked to the half dozen different chastity belt models that hung in organized fashion from the walls. She had seen them used before on her mother's pets. They seemed to rather swiftly bring those humans to heel, playing upon their desire for pleasure and denying them anything until Lanea deigned to grant them some relief. There were few more dependable ways of breaking a slave.   Keara shook her head and tried to buck in Pantea's arms. Trying to deny what was coming. She gave a few weak smacks with her arms against Pantea's torso, but the succubus just smiled and licked Keara's ear again. Which brought the Elf to a shuddering halt in her efforts to resist. Keara moaned as the tongue ran over her ear again, her lips parting for just a few seconds in sheer sensual pleasure.

"My, my Keara. Have I discovered a secret?"   Keara shuddered and opened her mouth to growl some insult, some steely thing, back at Pantea. But the tongue returned to her ear, this time with the barest hint of a nibble, and what emerged instead was a plaintive moan of pleasure.

Damnation!

“So Elves like to have their ears played with, huh?” Pantea’s tongue flicked out again, this time making the licking a slower process. Clearly savouring Keara’s shudders of pleasure flavoured with streaks of shame as she writhed in Pantea’s arms, “I gotta say that’s…actually really obvious now that I think about it.”

Pantea’s mouth briefly left Keara’s ear, and the Elf tried to roll herself around in Pantea’s arms to get her ears away from the succubus’ tongue, but to no avail. A half dozen seconds later Pantea simply shifted her grip and her mouth descended onto Keara’s eartips with a playful growl, giving them little nibbles that drew more moans from Keara, and set her heart to hammering in her chest. She shivered and moaned, her hands balled up in fists as she desperately tried to control her breathing. Tried, and failed as Pantea continued to teasingly nibble and lick at her ears, clearly delighting in the sounds she could draw from Keara with the smallest of touches.

“Now let’s get you all tied up,” Pantea cooed. Keara twitched and then caught sight of the scowling heavyset man form before, now smiling down at her in a really, really nasty way.

“I got a pretty good idea of how you want to play this, boss. So I picked out this,” He dangled a gigantic ring gag in front of Keara’s face, and leered down at her. She whimpered in response, trying to draw back away from the man. Into Pantea’s embrace.

“You know me so well,” Pantea said with mock bashfulness as she deposited Keara onto her knees,” Don’t keep her waiting now. I’ll hold her still.”

Keara tried to shrink away from the man, but Pantea’s hands gripped her in place. He forced the ring into her mouth, wrenching her jaw painfully open. Keara gave a muted cry at that, and the nasty grin widened on the man’s face as he leaned in to whisper, while buckling the gag tightly, “Be grateful I’m not the one in charge, bitch. I’d have you locked in a bitchsuit for months after the shit you just pulled. You’d be my brainwashed catgirl slut, and you’d fuckin’ thank me every day for it.” He yanked the ring gag straps painfully tight, drawing a fresh moan from Keara. “Heh. Slut.”

Keara squeezed her eyes shut and trembled on her knees as she felt her body bound by her tormentors. Her arms were wrenched behind her in a strict armbinder that seemed to fuse her elbows together. Followed by a spreader bar for her ankles, which imposed added strain on her still bound knees. The man then shoved her to the floor so that he could chain her collar to an eyebolt there, giving a gleeful chuckle as Keara wailed when her arms were simultaneously attached to a chain from the ceiling, courtesy of Pantea. Forcing her into a kneeling strappado.

“There we go,” Pantea was standing in front of Keara, though the Elf couldn’t raise her head much past being able to see Pantea’s knees. Her face flushed red, only partly from the strain of the position and the tightness of the gag. Drool was already leaking from her mouth to pool beneath her, and the minimal squirming she was able to do only reinforced her helplessness.

“Do you remember last night, my pretty little elf slut? Remember how you were bound up all snug in that big comfy bed? That’s what good girls get in my home. Comfy bondage and playtime with their mistress. Bad, disobedient girls like you get nasty bondage and punishment time instead.”

Pantea knelt down, placing her knees beneath Keara’s chin before leaning in to whisper conspiratorially. “While you’re ‘apologizing’ to everyone you were mean to, you’ll be pleasuring me as well. I mean, why did you think you got a ring gag? You’re going to bury that tongue of yours right into me and do your best to repay all that pleasure I gave you last night.”   A commotion at the door made Pantea look up to see the rest of Keara’s victims had arrived. The lonesome boy she had ambushed was there, along with the cowboy hat lady, and her male companion. All three of them were eyeing Keara with a mixture of emotions. Keara didn’t want to meet any of their gazes. She opted to stare at the floor in front of her, trying to recover a small piece of her mental balance.

“Everyone’s here, perfect.” Pantea was stroking Keara’s head. Like a puppy. Like a bloody…! No. Calm. Calm. She wants you to scream and struggle. Keara forced herself to not react. To kneel there. “Everyone, you’ve met Keara. And Keara, you’ve encountered everyone here before. So it’s time for you to apologize to them. These three fine gentlemen are going to be smacking your ass a bit. Isn’t that right, gentlemen?”

“You bet, boss,” The mean heavyset man chortled. There was some movement behind Pantea as the males from before left her vision.

“What about me?” the woman in the hat pouted, “The mean Elf tied me up toooo…”

“Oh you get the most important job of all,” Pantea purred, now running a finger along one of Keara’s ears, making the captive girl moan in forced pleasure, “See, while I’m going to enjoy my newest pet’s tongue, you’re going to enjoy the rest of her. Got it? Try out her ears.” Pantea flicked the tip of Keara’s ear, making the Elf jump in her bonds and squeal, “She just looooves it when people play with those. Don’t you, slut?”

Keara moaned helplessly into her gag, continuing to drool as her tormentors arranged themselves. Pantea settled herself in front of Keara, edging close enough to be just shy of pressing into Keara’s face. The expectation was there, and for a pair of seconds Keara considered refusing. Just not playing along with this depravity. Flinging her resistance once more into Pantea’s face. But…

She shuddered as her hands wriggled in her armbinder. She didn’t want this. She didn’t want more of this pain. More of this humiliation at the hands of that fat bastard, and the others who Pantea had shanghaied. She eased her tongue out through the ring-gag, hating herself at the degradation that she was involving herself with, and began to delicately start. The girl had settled herself on her hands and knees next to Keara and was already amusing herself by lightly teasing one of Keara’s ears with her fingers, while the other she gently sucked and nibbled on. The sensations from that alone were speeding up Keara’s own oral ministrations.

Then the first blazing strike of pain flashed down onto Keara’s rear and the Elf screamed. A second strike slammed into her, and she screamed again, her tongue stilling as she sobbed into her gag. The third blow came, and as it arrived Pantea’s hand forced her head forward. Burying her between Pantea’s thighs even as her ears continued to be nibbled and teased. As hands found her effectively naked breasts and began to grope them. Keara howled as pain and pleasure coursed through her. Forced to take in everything. Forced to pleasure her Mistress. Her screams muffled by her gag and Pantea. Her movement utterly contained within her bondage. And as her mental grip began to crumble, as her cries began to be tinged with lust to accompany the pain and fear, she suddenly felt the unmistakable sensation of Pantea’s tail curling around her thigh, teasing her sex. Taking from her the last shred of her reserve.

Keara howled.

-----

Lanea was beginning to feel just the slightest tinges of apprehension. The overall emotions she was working through were still very much irritation at being led on this chase by her daughter...but confound it, Keara should have still been here.   The Sentinel had been right enough about the portal. Lanea hadn’t had to deal with a portal malfunctions in a long, long time. That alone was cause for concern. The weave of the thing had been right and proper enough, with little to suggest anything wrong. Yet it had unquestionably led to another place, rather than Mrs. Addison’s business.

It had led to a sex club.

Lanea had led her two accompanying Sentinels, Tara and Kaedan, through the gateway, ready for trouble. They had emerged from an open closet filled with latex clothing into a small dungeon area. A pair of humans were in front of them, the female one already partly bound. Both now stood staring in shock at the three intimidating Elves in their midst. Creatures that were meant to be of myth and shadow, now stood clear as day in the centre of a fetish wonderland.

Lanea had grimaced and turned back to the portal to begin her investigation. A flicked handsign from her sent her companions surging towards the humans. She ignored the muted cries of alarm, and the accompanying struggling while she carefully felt out the threads of the magical bridge. It took a few minutes to tease together what had been changed. Something had nagged at her as she found the altered bits, but she couldn’t quite grab hold of it.

Something…odd. Not a natural unravelling. Her frown had deepened.

Behind her Kaedan finished wrenching the girl’s bounds even tighter and then stepped back. Tara had stepped forward then and began imprinting onto both humans a version of events that did not include mythical creatures crashing their delightful party. If Lanea had not been on the hunt for her daughter, this was an appealing enough scenario for her to stay and play for some time. Perhaps even to find the club’s owner and strike a bargain of some sort with her. But there was no time. Better to let Tara, expert that he was at this sort of mental magic, to give them a more sensible set of memories.

Kaedan had stepped up beside her and cocked a questioning glance.

“There has been…tampering,” Lanea said softly.

Kaedan’s eyebrows rose, and a hand fell to a thin blade at his waist, “Tampering? But who…?”

“I can’t tell from here.” Lanea’s response was a bit too crisp. A bit too sharp. She closed her eyes, sucked in a soft inhale, and quirked her lips in an apologetic smile, “I’ve reset it for Mrs. Addison’s abode. We will go there and inquire of the good lady. If the Bargain has been broken…if she has proved faithless…” Lanea didn’t have to finish the thought. She had been Mistress of the Portals long enough for her policy on bargain breaking and oath forsaking to become common knowledge throughout Faerie and likely beyond as well. You simply did not double deal with Lanea. Once an agreement was made you stuck to it, or heaven help you.

“Tara?”

The female Elf was sealing her spell with a kiss to each human forehead. As soon as she had finished, the woman lunged foreward in her bonds to begin kissing and fellating her companion’s member. Moans rose behind the Elf as she padded back over to Lanea, “Ready my Lady.”

Lanea nodded and, a final quirk of her lips at the moans now coming from the two humans, led her little force through the gate once more.

She had found nothing on the far side. The three of them had emerged ready for a fight, or a rescue, and found…nothing. The stillness of the place was wrong. Lanea had visited Mrs. Addison’s enough to get a good comfortable feeling for the energy of the place. Something had assuredly happened here. Kaedan had slipped off to check the ground level, and Lanea had led Tara up to where Mrs. Addison kept her toys. She should have a slave still. Perhaps the girl could answer some questions.

Lanea had swung the door open silently, and found the human woman bound in a stringent hogtie, clearly in an exhausted sleep. Lanea stood watching her for a few moments, her mind racing as bits began to fall into place. This was…not what she had expected.

Lanea flicked her fingers at Tara, ordering her to stay and watch Mrs. Addison. She headed for the portal room once more. There was something tickling the edge of her senses, and she meant to find it. Shortly, Lanea stood at the foot of the bed, a perturbed frown creasing her elegant features. She was facing the closet and, for the past ten minutes, had been trying to feel out what had happened here. The portal had certainly worked the first time, of that she had no doubt. There was still a faint whiff of Keara in the air, some otherwise unseen feeling that let Lanea know that her daughter had made it here. But otherwise…

Her frown deepened. There should be more. More traces, a sense of what had happened in the room. Magical creatures like Elves and other folk left imprints behind them, almost anytime they left Faerie. It wasn’t deliberate, it was simply the natural world recalling bygone ages of when Elves had been present in the world, and clinging to them in a sense. It was why certain regions of the world still had a certain ethereal quality to them, long after her folk had ceased to live there. Even a single evening as Keara had spent here should have left the room aglow to Lanea’s senses.

But…nothing…

As though the place had been wiped clean. And that made no sense. Not at this little out of the way inn on the road to nowhere...

Lanea paced forward and gently laid a hand against the woodwork of the closet, and began slowly tracing her fingers up and down the frame. She closed her eyes and began to delve. Deep, deep into the fabric of the world. The portal yes, but also the anchors to which she had set it long ago. In the first days of her Bargain with Mrs. Addison, the human keeper of this place. What a night that had been. Lanea's lips curved in silent remembrance of the debauched pleasure that she had provided for the innkeeper and her guests at the time.

Her mind reached out, connecting to all the little crevices, and grooves of her creation as a part of her wiled away the moment in memory of the pleasure she had taken from this place. The main part of her thought though, concentrated upon her inspection. Touching each, and knowing each in turn, before gliding to the next. And the next. And the next. And the---

Lanea’s eyes flared wide, her nostrils letting out a snort as she came to one of the final ones, buried deep down under layers and layers of her working. So deep that she was likely one of a bare handful who could ever have spotted it. No Sentinel would think, indeed even know, to search so deeply into the working of a portal. All of her others had been smoothed now, by something. She could see that now, but would not have had the faintest idea who or how.   But this last joint in her portal, a part of the base layer. Here, someone had blundered. However elegant their deceitful weaving had been, however light a touch they had exercised, one small, seemingly insignificant piece had not been fixed. Not been smoothed. Something that gave Lanea a single sensation.

One single clue, that made the unflappable Elf want to shriek with rage, and pain, and fear. To level this place and ride forth to rampage along the old ways. The old paths of her people. To reave and destroy all in her way, down to the darkest bowels of the earth.

The single clue was smell.

Lanea smelt brimstone.

Which brought her to the present. Lanea stood at an elegantly carved window of living wood and stared out into the pre-dawn gloom. She had stood there for nearly an hour, almost from the moment she had returned from her excursion to Mrs. Addison’s place of business. Marshaling her thoughts. Considering her next steps. Rationally planning out how to go about finding Keara.

Because all she wanted to do was rend the flesh of every living thing between her and where Keara was, and burn to ash whatever was leftover.

Because she knew where her daughter had been taken.

She closed her eyes with a grimace of pained grief as her mind drifted back a few hours ago.

“My lady?” Kaedan’s quiet voice snapped Lanea away from visions of where her daughter had been taken. The Infernal Realms. A place of torment. Of death. Of suffering unending. Demons and devils and other unclean things that lurked beneath the bowels of the world. She gritted her teeth, forcing herself to calm her mind, and stepped back to meet Kaedan.

The male Sentinel bowed and gestured back the way she had come in, “We are ready for you.” He had changed from his leathers into the dull green mail of a war-clad Sentinel. A bow and quiver upon his back complemented the blade he wore at her hip. Lanea was similarly attired now, though eschewed the bow favoured by most of her folk. She knew she would lack the focus needed for such ranged work. Better to be close in.

She followed Kaedan out of the large tree that served as a gatehouse near the portal she had selected. Tara was just outside, also having changed into Elven war-mail, and had elected to bring a quarterstaff with her. Just now though she was quietly reassuring Mrs. Addison. The human woman stood, shivering in her nakedness, and bound up in a ponygirl tack and bondage. Her arms buckled in a boxtie behind her, and a bit-gag locked between her teeth. An emerald glittered in her collar, and her wide rolling eyes lit upon Lanea as the Elf Mistress exited the living tree.

Lanea gave a small sigh, tinged ever so faintly with regret. This was not the human’s fault. She could not possibly be blamed for the invasion of her home, for the abduction of Keara from it, by hellish forces that were literally not of her world. And yet…Lanea had not been especially clear-headed when she had stormed back into the room. When she had…

Faint colour sprung to her cheeks, and she deliberately changed her direction. Moving towards Addison, who immediately squealed and straightened up, her eyes staring straight ahead and away from Lanea. Lanea had lost control, and that wouldn’t do to leave such an impression on Mrs. Addison. The woman deserved better than that from her.

She took the reins from Tara with a murmured word of thanks, and then spent a few moments gently stroking the human’s lovely hair, crooning softly to her. Calming her from the nervousness that the human now had in spades as a result of Lanea’s angry tirade and actions immediately after she had found out just where her daughter had been taken. Mrs. Addison’s rump was still a vibrant shade of red after the thrashing the Lanea had given her, and the Elf cupped the human’s chin to meet her eyes,

“You have my apologies, Mrs. Addison. I acted out of anger that you did not cause, and you endured a punishment for acts that you did not commit.” Lanea gently stroked her thumb across the woman’s cheek, “You will still serve your time here. But it will not be as unpleasant as you no doubt have imagined it. I will leave instructions that will see to it that you are properly cared for, and that the labour intensive punishments are suspended.”

The human’s eyes were wide, and she garbled muffled thank you’s through her gag. Lanea patted her reassuringly, “The Bargain endures my dear. For your final week here I will allow you to select and play with any of my own human pets that you please as my own personal apology. Then you will be returned to your place of business.”

Mrs. Addison continued to babble her heart-felt thanks as Lanea handed her reins off to another Elf, this one dressed in simple browns and greens and unarmoured, who clicked his tongue and led her off, her hoof boots making soft clip-clopping sounds. A brief smile quirked Lanea’s lips as she watched Mrs. Addison’s new horsehair tail swish between her legs. The woman did make a fine pony. If not for the circumstances, Lanea might have enjoyed watching Tara train her for a few weeks. Perhaps the human would be amenable to such games. Later though. That last act of mercy accomplished, Lanea turned back to her companions.

In addition to Tara and Kaedan, four more Elven Sentinels stood arrayed about her, all dressed in wargear. Mailed and armed for battle. Aerin and Alfreda, the Terrible Twins. Both with identically resolute expressions on their faces. Both with flame kissed hair bound back in ponytails. Both women had a soft spot for Keara, and had often taken the girl on slave-hunts in the forests around her home. Both had immediately volunteered to accompany Lanea. Her best archers and shadowy stalkers. They stood together, speaking quietly.

A tall male Elf was standing near Kaedan. Taran was an accomplished warrior, and as close to an out and out brawler as one might find among Elven folk. He was within a century or three of Lanea’s age, and was next to her the most experienced of her party in matters of battle. A great hand and a half longsword hung across his back, and he was dressed all in close fitting mail, a helm casually held near his waist. His hair was dark and cut to a short shoulder length. His cool eyes watched Lanea intently.

The final member was Orist, and the reason Lanea had waited as long as she had, for he was by far the most needed at the beginning of their journey. He was dark of hair and eye, and about a foot shorter than all of the others. And unlike everyone else, had eschewed mail for his woodsman leathers and great hunting bow. Orist was her Tracker. Or rather, the Tracker. One of a handful left who was capable of following trails between worlds. Seeking out one candle of life amid the oceans of fire that were the Infernal Realms. And he was the best. And, given the magical skills evidenced by the tampering of the portals, perhaps the only one who would not be thrown off completely by those subtle means. He was silently taking stock of the party members, one hand rubbing his head as he soundlessly muttered to himself.

Lanea stood before them, Tara behind her now, and took a breath, “My friends. Thank you for agreeing to accompany me.”

All of them were watching her. Lanea exerted an effort of will to continue in her measured pace, “My daughter Keara has been taken, likely during her first night abroad while seeking a human slave. She was taken by…” Lanea’s teeth clicked shut on the snarl that had been about to creep out, and continued after a few moments, “…taken by some denizen of the Infernal Realms.”

Aerin and Alfreda’s eyes narrowed at the same time, grips tightening on their bows. Taran nodded thoughtfully, though his eyes were like chips of blue ice. Orist continued to watch her, wordlessly. Kaedan and Tara knew already of course, and they merely stood beside her. Lanea drew strength from that reaction and continued, “I don’t yet know where in those pits she’s been taken, nor who of the bloody monsters did the taking. But I’m going down there, and I’m getting my daughter back.” She extended her hands in a small gesture, “I hope you will accompany me. You are, each of you, my dearest friends. Some of you,” she nodded at the twins, “know Keara personally. The rest of you, at least, know me.”

Lanea’s eyes went cold, “She will not be left down there. We will not abandon her to the depravity of the Pits and Flames. Orist will guide us into the Realms. We will find my daughter. We will take her back. And we will visit vengeance on any who stand in our way.” The last part came out in a furious hiss of rage.

Around her the companions she had assembled accepted her words. Accepted them, agreed with them, and gave her their support. All with the most minimal of words and expressions. The shifting of feet, the flowing movements into readiness. The changing of expressions from interest into resolve. In moments, Lanea had her answer.

“Thank you,” She whispered. Her gaze flicked to Orist, “Tracker. Take us out.”

The smaller Elf nodded and closed his eyes. His fingers splayed out in front of him, and he began muttering a series of words and phrases, shifting and playing his fingers about as though pulling on strings and balls of yarn. After a short while he stiffened briefly, and then jerked his head towards one portal farther down the line of them in the glade. The seven Elves all immediately sprung into smooth, swift motion, shaking out into their marching formation for the travel between worlds. Lanea was behind Orist, Tara at her side. She was coming.

Hang on Keara, my love. The thought seared across her mind as she followed the Tracker into the portal he had selected. Hang on. I’m coming for you.