Week after week had passed, and worry gnawed at Lanea like a half starved wolf. Progress was made each day, true enough, but it was an uncertain path they trod, winding and treacherous. Orist, her tracker, had had more than normal difficulty in finding and keeping in mind Keara’s sense. That unique blend of her self, her magic, and the familial tie to Lanea should have acted as a lodestone, unerringly drawing the rescue party to her location to free her and lay waste to those who had harmed her. The Infernal Realms were difficult enough, the constantly changing vortex of pathways a challenge at the best of times. Yet Lanea suspected that this was more than that. That some creature had set its will towards distraction, confusing the trail and preventing Orist from ever having a clear sense of location and path.
She growled a little under her breath, one hand gripping tightly around the shaft of her sword hilt as she slowly strode forward. Her war party had managed to narrow down Keara’s whereabouts to one of three places. Happily, thankfully, she had not been taken by the demonic forces associated with the majority of the Realms. Those most committed to violence, death and depravity had not sunk their claws into her. Yet…still there were three large ones which remained. And they still needed information before plunging headlong into any of them.
Lanea eyed the surrounding grim stonework of the ruined city of Anung she walked through. As with so many of the old established places she had known, this one was a ruin. The victim, no doubt, of some eternal feud that had destroyed what had past for civilization here. Lanea could recall dozens of demon lords that had held sway over this place, at one time or another since its founder, Rama, had butchered his way to the top of the skull heap. Yet the ruins of past barbaric grandeur was not what had Lanea on edge as she moved through the shadowy city. Ever since she had spotted that first one during their first interrogation, she was on the look out for spiders. With each of the creatures that spotted her, she ran the risk of...
Lanea half snarled and chopped off the thought, her emotions far too turbulent with fear for Keara to countenance much more thought down that direction. She would not be stopped. She would not leave Keara here. Her mind quested out, sensing and placing each member of her band as they crept through the city, senses aflame and alert. The last interrogation had pointed them in this direction, the squealing, simpering little sprite of a demon too terrified to do more than shriek the name of the city. That, perhaps, had had something to do with Lanea and her companions dispatching all of the flunkies that pathetic creature had traveled with, on their way to perform some evil deeds no doubt.
Then, as Lanea’s senses traveled out through the city, they encountered something. Some shadowy, formless presence that nonetheless spoke to the discomforting feeling that Lanea had nursed for the past week. Something was watching them. It wasn’t only the small little minions. She growled soundlessly, her eyes flashing, and then she felt it.
The unleashing of a power that rivaled her own.
Lanea bit off a curse and flung up a large expanding shield. The coursing, flickering shadows that had been charging towards her flashed into smoke and perished, half heard cries of the damned souls they might have been vanishing with them. Yet still more shadow, the inky black of true night, writhed beyond the reach of her shield. Screams, cries and moans echoed and re-echoed around her, and into the shield Tara and Taran soon stumbled, blades out and eyes wild. Kaedan made an appearance after an eternally long minute, dragging Orist along as the Tracker frantically fought to preserve his sense of connection to Keara’s trail.
“Lanea” a soft, sibilant voice whispered in her mind. Lanea stiffened, her senses and eyes coming to rest on a small spider that crouched upon a nearby wall, watching them, “I have taken one of your warriors. I shall tell you where and when to find her when her sister returns to you. Until then, if you value her wellbeing, you will halt your rampage.”
The voice was a familiar one, for all that she had not heard it within her mind in well over a century. A part of Lanea had expected to hear its whispers far earlier in her quest to find Lanea, yet she had clung to a hope that somehow she had passed without notice. That somehow she might recover Keara and escape before her counterpart, the Sentinel of the Infernal Realms, noticed her presence.
Lanea took a breath, calmly exhaling, and just as calmly exerting a tiny flash of will that crushed the spider into paste. Let her use up her minions. Lanea gave herself a small mental shake, her magic pulsing against the shadowy night that was already fading away. Leaving the ruins of the city now visible once more. She took a breath, eying the remains of the spider. Tara and Kaedan were both positioned near Orist, while Taran stood next to her, his gaze thoughtfully on the spider, darkening with a sudden frown as he took in Lanea’s expression. The Elves turned as the sound of running feet suddenly sounded, too soft for any but Elves to hear.
Alfreda rounded the corner, face twisted in a sick combination of rage and fear. She opened her mouth and Lanea held up a hand, "I know. Aerin has been taken.” Her heart lurched within her chest, some knowledge of what the poor woman was even now enduring. “A parley has been called for." She grimaced and then gestured down the main thoroughfare, "She'll want something suitably grand. She always does."
“Is she…” Alfreda’s eyes were dark, the experience and near miss of being taken by the Sentinel clearly rattling the young Elven warrior.
“Your twin will be fine,” Lanea assured her softly as they began to move deeper into the city, “I will not abandon her any more than I would abandon Keara. All of us will return to Faerie.” That final sentence had the tang of steely resolve.
An eternal hour passed as Lanea and her party ghosted through the ruins. Rather, much of Lanea's party faded into shadow and concealment. She strode down the ruined causeway openly, Taran at her side an imposing presence that all but the most powerful or foolhardy would quail away from. Mistress of Portals and one of the foremost warriors of Faerie. Lanea's mind turned over and over the many possibilities that the Sentinel's intervention might bring.
They had known one another for many centuries. A relationship of respect and professionalism. Each charged with the management and watch of their borders. Inevitably such duties brought them into contact, though it was a rare occurrence indeed for one to trespass onto the other's territory.
The Sentinel might know already of her quest. Certainly she had to know that only greatest need had propelled Lanea here. Only something achingly close to her heart had made her cut a swath from the borders perilously close to the inner portions of the Infernal Realms. The question was, would the Sentinel aid her...or was this a warning that Lanea's party was to be hounded away.
Lanea gritted her teeth, her thoughts dark and thick with foreboding. For if that was the path that the Sentinel chose. If Lanea was forced away without Keara, without Aerin, then there would be nothing left save the bluntest of methods to recover her daughter. She would not stand by while Keara was tortured and destroyed. Not if she had to pull down the very foundations of millennia of uneasy peace.
An image suddenly brushed against the edges of Lanea's mind, her quivering mental defences snaring it and severing it from the mental presence that had delivered it. The foreign entity departed, leaving behind a flavour of irritated amusement, and Lanea turned the image over and over. It was one of the many Great Halls of Anung, the places where demon lordlings had held feasts and loathsome games to curry favour with the higher hellish beings that ruled the city in its heydey. Not a particularly auspicious place to hold a negotiation...but then, few places in the Infernal Realms were such.
Lanea sent the image to her party, and wordlessly urged them onwards. It took them a handful of minutes more to reach, and when they arrived they were confronted by beings. Humans...yet not humans. Demonic energies writhed beneath their flesh, these once men, once women. Turned now from their natural mortal vitality to something darker, forged anew for selfish personal ambition.
Lanea's eyes traced coldly over the assembled coterie of flesh gone mad, her lip curled in a deliberate show of contempt. She did not break her stride as she approached, Taran at her shoulder. A moment later Kaedan was there as well, the two male Elven warriors looking every inch the fearsome duo. The assembled guardians, mercenaries of some sort no doubt, tensed at their approach, fingering weapons and displaying their various appendages.
"Only you," a rasping voice called out from the motley collection of human-demon hybrid guards. Lanea turned her head slightly to find the speaker. A form stood, smoldering with hellfire. He looked for all the world like a living volcano, molten hellfire coursing within his flesh, the flesh itself charred nearly beyond recognition. Eyes of pure flame stared out from beneath a soot blackened helm, and what skin was covered was spread over with mail and furs, all of which seemed on the verge of burning. A greataxe was held loosely in one hand, while a sword hung at his waist. A claw-like hand extended, "Your lackeys wait outside with us. The Mistress wishes a...private discussion."
Lanea cocked her head to one side, wordlessly allowing the power of her gaze to communicate in perfect clarity how far above them she was...and how little effort it would take to wipe the entire group from existence. No matter their demonic enhancements, no matter the pacts they had made with dark powers, this collection of vermin would not stay her hand, nor those of her companions. Long, slow, excruciatingly tense seconds drifted past. The hellish guards tensed even further, fingering weapons and slowly shifting stances. Many of them looked eager, as the possibility of battle strengthened in them, their lust for conflict and destruction writ plainly on their faces and in their body language. Lanea could feel their emotions, what passed for them, and once again felt thankful that Keara had most certainly not been taken by demons from the War Realms. Taran loosened his sword, while Kaedan let out a sigh and rolled his shoulders, his hands settled on the long fighting knives he favoured. A leopard-like demon bared its fangs at him, while a vaguely samurai armoured and armed figure took a pace forward, coal-fired eyes within his helm locked onto Taran.
Lanea took a pace forward, and then artfully turned, ignoring the guardians while addressing herself to Taran, "Remain here. We shall observe the forms, so long as they are observed in turn. Should I need you, I trust I'll not need to wait long."
"No my lady," came Taran's laconic reply, sounding almost bored as he let his eyes drift in confident challenge over the assembled monstrosities, "Not long."
Lanea nodded briskly, being careful to pay no attention at all to the far side of the collection of guards where she could dimly catch a sense of Tara flitting through shadows and ghosting into the hall. Alfreda would remain outside where she could support Kaedan and Taran, and where her temper wouldn't compromise anything. Orist, bless him, remained completely out of sight and undetectable. A particular quirk of trackers.
Lanea gave herself a mental shake, and then deliberately let her power fill her a little more. If she was to make terms with the Sentinel...let the demon understand who it was she dealt with. She was Lanea. Mistress of the Portals, and First Watcher of the Borders. She numbered among the High Princes and Princesses of Faerie. And she was here to bring her daughter home.
Lanea found the Sentinel, and her captive, in the large and spacious ballroom. The Sentinel stood tall and regal above the squirming form of her Elven captive, clad in the silvery spidersilk that was her calling card, spun and patterned in intriguingly intricate forms. The demonic counterpart to Lanea slowly lowered her hood, revealing a human face. Unassuming and safe, it appeared to the unknowing observer, yet Lanea was not fooled. The woman’s skin was a rich brown colour, yet clearly was not a common companion of the sun. Long dark hair netted with silvery spider webs fell past her shoulders, and disappeared into the depths of her cloak. Molten amber eyes brimming with power burned out at the room at Lanea. It was an intimidating and concerning sight.
“Welcome, Portal Mistress,” the Sentinel intoned when Lanea came into view. At her feet, Aerin raised her head in clear exhaustion. She was bound in a tight, and still furiously squirming package as her fiery spirit was as undaunted as ever despite her sudden captivity. The silvery silky ropes entrapped the whole of her body, criss-crossing up and down her heaving chest, her arms, and her lithe legs. The tight ropes not only framed and strained each breast, but also was tied in such a way that forced her to thrust her chest forward. A length of spider silk was connected from her chest ropes and disappeared between her legs, vibrating in a manner that was clearly both arousing and highly embarrassing. Aerin’s arms were bound behind her back at the elbows and wrists, and secured with further strands to her torso. Her legs were frogtied and virtually completely covered by spider silk…and from the way she was squirming she was clearly in a kneeling hogtie of some sort. Aerin let out a loud groan, the spider silk in her mouth doing nothing to muffle her aching emotions that roared towards Lanea.
The Sentinel continued, one hand settling atop Aerin’s head, “I believe we have much to discuss.”
Lanea let the words wash over her, her eyes for a moment not concentrating on the Sentinel, but rather on the exhausted and flushed woman near her. She noted how Aerin still squirmed while staring towards Lanea, still bleated into her gag, but had clearly been put through the ringer this past hour. Lanea had seen a handful of others pass through the Sentinel's hands over the long centuries they had known one another. Aerin would require some unique care when this was over and done with.
She gave a mental shake, her attention snapping back to the Sentinel. She could sense the other woman's power, made all the more intimidating to most given her home turf advantage. Yet such considerations, apart from their tactical review, were barely a flicker across Lanea's mind. The Sentinel's presence spoke to possibilities, and Lanea intended to press her advantages.
Namely, the sheer level of chaos and destruction she had left in her wake.
"Indeed," her voice was cool, verging on cold, a cloak to hide her lava-like anger and anguished fear for Keara. "Sentinel. I had hoped that we might meet. You who have eyes everywhere in this infernal place. I and my followers are here on a most pressing quest. One that I will see completed." Lanea's voice hardened, one hand briefly tightening on her belt near her sword. Not in threat to the Sentinel, but simply as a means to further clamp down on the emotions that riled her. Small infinitesimal whisps of power bled from her form.
Lanea took a breath, "An Elf has been taken. Stolen away, by a denizen of the Infernal Realms. I come to reclaim them."
Aerin began to struggle a little more, her renewed struggling disturbing the Sentinel’s hand from atop of her head. The demonic woman’s expression didn’t change, but Lanea felt the sudden brief surge of power, doing something to Aerin that caused the young woman to squeal and shudder into stillness. A silvery collar writhed into existence around her neck, and a leash formed between it and the Sentinel’s hand, pulsing with power. A power which made Aerin whimper and shudder again and again, clearly now doing her best to hold still. Her gaze fell from Lanea and her face went red.
Lanea’s nostrils flared at this abuse, yet the Sentinel was already speaking, as though harming an Elf under Lanea’s command was of little consequence.
“I am aware of this captive,” the Sentinel spoke. “It seems a straightforward matter to me. A young and inexperienced hunter of mortal slaves ventured out and was ensnared by a superior hunter. A prize fairly taken, so far as the leaders and powers of these Realms will be concerned when they learn of the matter. Regardless of who she happens to be related to.”
Lanea stiffened, the confirmation that the Sentinel knew setting a fresh breeze over the smoldering coals of her raging emotions. yet her ironclad self control betrayed not a whispering of this tempest, apart from a faint tightening of her body language. She could not even spare a sympathetic glance for Aerin, much though she wanted to, as the young Elf continued to shudder and whimper in her bondage.
Lanea cocked her head, feeling the Sentinel's gathering power to match her own, and deciding to fore go for the moment any direct challenge. She would see what diplomacy could accomplish first. It was an effort to bring her hand away from her sword, and still more to remove any hint of a snarl from her words. Control. Control was vital always, but never more so in the Infernal Realms. Powerful as Elven emotions were, they could very often run wild if not properly channeled here. Lanea’s self control, legendary though it was, could well prove a problem if it frayed too far.
"That is not how I, nor my kindred, will see this. Mortal creatures may be hunted as our Realms will. Each of us, in our own way approaching, snaring, and keeping those we deem worthy. Yet no where, and at no time, has either Realm deigned to surrender its members to the other." Lanea paused, her eyes stabbing out at the Sentinel, knowing the other was as aware of history as she, "Not willingly at least. I hardly think either of us wish to revisit such...trying...times. Any Elf outside the borders of Faerie falls within my purview and jurisdiction. I am interested only in reclaiming them, and those members of my party I entered the Infernal Realms with. Though." Lanea paused for a moment, putting some whispered steel behind her words, "If someone was hunting the Elf who was taken deliberately..." Lanea's eyes flashed, "That would require a fuller accounting..."
The Sentinel was silent for a few moments, her eyes seeming to consider Lanea. In the silence she shortened the leash, resting her hand anew on top of a quivering Aerin. The captive Elf closed her eyes and shuddered, her breasts shaking a little as she gently twisted her body. Then Sentinel spoke, “I have seen nothing to suggest the young fool was deliberately targeted,” her voice filled it seemed with scorn, “Much time has past since our Realms were last in conflict Lanea. The rulers and denizens of these Hells do not fear war. Just the opposite in truth. They would relish a chance to fight…if only they could be united into a cohesive force.”
The Sentinel took a half pace forward, placing Aerin at her side and behind her, “Your little invasion, for the sake of a trophy fairly captured, could easily be enough to provide that unity. Your maternal affections will sway no demon to sympathy. And while it must be said that not all the Realms would unite, nor would enough come together to invade of Faerie ourselves, a defense of our breached territory against further assaults would be easily mustered.”
Aerin screamed into her gag again then as magic surged, her bonds suddenly seeming to come alive with heated writhing power. Searing her with heat and pleasure at the same time, and sending her into spasms of struggling. It ended as quickly as it had begun, leaving Aerin a panting, moaning mess…yet one that still glared up in rage at the Sentinel…who simply smiled, “Especially once they discover how delightfully sensual an Elven captive can be…”
Lanea felt her jaw clench, and made a deliberate effort to calm herself. She had expected this. She had expected bluster, and threats. After all, it was what demons knew best. She let the silence stretch, letting her fury cool and crystallize into icy rage. Forced control over her roiling emotions and felt her power begin to bubble up within her, matching some but not yet all of the draw she felt in the other woman.
She did not wish to match wills and power against the Sentinel. Such a fight, between two beings of such titanic power levels, would do nothing save sow more destruction than could ever be recovered from in five centuries of replenishment and care. She eyed Aerin again, her lips twisting slightly in displeasure as she watched the Elf pant helplessly into her gag. Destruction on a scale few could imagine might yet come from her mission. From her insistence on all of her people coming home.
Yet...if it came to that...
"She was taken from a Bargain Sanctified Elven Hunting Ground." Lanea bit the words out in precise terms, admitting at last to the open air the personal animus that drove her, "Our portal to the location was tampered with, in a hopeless bid to disguise what had happened. She was seized because she was an Elf, on our own grounds." Lanea paced forward a single step, flickers of a more fiery energy clawing at the chill calm in her eyes, "I should think carefully about attempting to rouse the Realms over something such as this. For should I have the need to rally mine own people, such a deliberate violation of our Accords would be more than enough. Yet that is not all that has been done. Not only this violation, but a deeper one."
The barest hint of raw anguished fury crept into her voice, though still as yet left her eyes and body language untouched, "This demon you protect seized a member of our highest nobility. My daughter." The last two words were hissed, practically spat at the Sentinel, and Lanea closed her eyes for a moment to recover her control. One hand fisted, and she allowed a greater trickle of her power to flood her. Still not enough to truly challenge, yet enough to remind the Sentinel that, home ground advantage or not, Lanea numbered among the very top of the power chain.
Lanea's eyes opened again, and they were bleak, "If you think I will not tear down the foundations of our worlds to recover her from the depravity that she yet suffers, you are sorely mistaken. I know the costs of such a path. I have lived in such times before, fought and bled in such times. Before our Accords. Before our Long Peace. Yet if you wish still to revisit ancient history, you may find the journey less to your liking than you hoped..."
Lanea’s voice was implacable, "I want my daughter back. I want to depart in peace with all my people. And if I cannot have that...then let it all burn."
The Sentinel laughed, filled with genuine mirth and mockery. Twisting the knife yet further.
“The demon in question took another captive that night, did you know that? One of Faerie’s mortal cast-offs. First ripped from her home to be overwhelmed with unimaginable pleasure at the hands of her Elven kidnappers, then tossed as unwanted trash out into the cold. Never to experience such pleasure again. When all this is over, I think I’m going to ask her which of her immortal owners she prefers, although I suspect I already know the answer.”
The Sentinel dropped the leash connected to Aerin’s collar, and the implement fell to the ground…where it suddenly dissolved into smoky, blackest shadow. These shadows surged up and around Aerin, clawing and sticking to the frantically struggling Elf who shrieked and bucked against her bonds. Fighting desperately against the shadows as they pulled her into the growing pool of darkness at the Sentinel’s feet. It was over in mere moments, Aerin dragged from sight before Lanea could have intervened. It was galling. Utterly infuriating.
“This is Hell Lanea, it is already burning.” The Sentinel’s tone was mocking, “Now, if you wish to return home with Keara…and Aerin, you’ll tell your hidden minion to go back to the rest of your party. Then we can negotiate.”
Lanea's heart ached as Aerin disappeared into darkness, the coiled hot rage within her snarling for action. For violence. To finally abandon the restraint she had forced herself to show in her search to find her daughter. To show, finally, why it was that Lanea was not to be crossed. Not even by one of the Archdemon Lords or the Infernal Realms. Let alone by her counterpart. The jibe of ill treatment of the slaves she and the Elves she choose to venture into the Mortal Realms was a familiar one. What, after all, would a demon know of the need to maintain balance. To give the mortals their own lives, and to not permanently supplant them with the desires of Faerie lords and ladies. No, for the denizens of the Infernal Realms, only taking and dominating mattered. The wishes of those they subjugated were irrelevant, the lives they might have led paltry in comparison to their enforced servitude.
It was an attitude that irked Lanea on a good day. Today was far from good.
Lanea let the snarl pulse through her, though not a bit of it touched her face as she felt power surge through her, held in check by the sheer force of her will. It was with the greatest effort that rather than do what her heart yearned...instead she snapped out a quick, "Leave us!" Her voice like cracked ice.
No movement could be readily discerned, and yet she knew that Tara had slipped away once more, vanishing back into the shadows.
Lanea took in a breath, forcing a veneer of calm over herself, "Very well. It is but the two of us now. So let us talk. I want my daughter back. I want Aerin back. I want us all to depart without interference from this infernal place. And..." Lanea's eyes flammed, "I want the thieving coward who took her."
The Sentinel again waited for a handful of long moments before responding, her words more carefully picked. Whether through genuine caution, or simply that there was less need for bluster now that they were truly alone, Lanea didn’t know.
“It will take me some small amount of time to retrieve your errant daughter. A few days, perhaps, but I will deliver her back to you soon. Aerin will remain in my custody until you, Keara, and the rest of your followers are on the verge of departure back to Faerie. I will return her when the portal is open and ready for use. Not an instant before.” The Sentinel shrugged slightly, her molten eyes fixed on Lanea, “Then you will leave. In that we are agreed. You want to return home and I want you gone. Without interference, as you say. And I say it will be done with all haste. I will return Keara, you will ready your portal. Then I will return Aerin and you will leave.”
Aerin’s return time was much as she had expected. There was hardly a reason for her to be taken unless it was to be used as a bargaining chip to ensure departure. Yet...
"My companion’s return...at the portal is acceptable provided she arrives...unspoiled." Laneas eyes were icy.
“Unspoiled?” The Sentinel’s lips quirked, her burning eyes seeming to communicate amusement, as though Lanea had happened upon some recently conceived plan to enjoy Aerin, “I think I can manage that much.” The Sentinel paused, her head cocked slightly, “As for your final demand, that I turn over the demon who bested your daughter…No.”
Lanea’s eyes flashed, "No? You would protect a criminal? One who has by their very actions demonstrated they care more for their own desires than the formal rules that guide and contain our relations. No Elf, no creature of Faerie, has absconded with a demon. A foolish precedent to set to not punish this sort of transgression."
The Sentinel appeared unmoved, uncaring, or simply had a very good bluffing countenance, “The mortals have an expression, ‘possession is nine tenths of the law.’ Have you heard that? Well here it is the entirety of the law. Take what you want and keep it if you can. The only punishment any Infernal fiend will care about is that this demon will not be allowed to keep their new Elven pleasure slave. That is all the precedent that need be set.”
Another pause. Another gathering and silent demonstration of will and control. Of burgeoning power on either side.
“What’s more, you underestimate your enemy. Even if I were at all confidant in my ability, or yours, to subdue this demon, you would not hold them any longer than they wished you to.” Which did little to set Lanea’s mind at ease as to who and what had Keara in its clutches. “Do not mistake me,” the Sentinel continued with an uncaring shrug, “My protection only extends as far as the borders of these Realms. Consider yourself free to test my claim and take your revenge should you ever happen upon them in another realm. I won’t lift a finger.”
Lanea swallowed a retort, her anger still churning in her gut. Yet she knew already that it had been a long shot. So rather than pressing the point, she simply gave a twitch of her head to indicate understanding. "And her breach of a Bargain Sanctioned Hunting Ground? Hardly needs repeating that you need to impress upon this demon, and the others of their ilk, that a future breach, especially of this nature, will not be ended with hard words atwix you and I alone."
Lanea's eyes were chips of ice. There would be no repetition of this. Faerie security would need to be heightened. Steps would need to be taken. And any future kidnapping efforts by the Infernal Realms would be met with all the power she had. An example would be made, properly, of those who sought to harm her people.
Lanea took a breath, letting her words float in the air between them, before she let out an angry huff of air, obviating any further rejoinder from the Sentinel, "Very well. I'll not press the point of taking custody of this individual." She made a fist with one of her hands, the air around it giving a soft keening sound as power crackled, "But let it be known. Should I find them outside the Infernal Realms, they shall be punished. As I deem appropriate to the level of their crime."
The Sentinel waved a dismissive hand. “As I said, my protection only extends to the borders of the Hells. Anyone who lets you catch them outside those borders is not my concern. Do with them what you will.”
Then her eyes burned and her voice hardened. “But if you breach these Realms without warning me again, no matter the reason, you will not find me so half as diplomatic. And more than one of my peers will have a chance to win elf trophies of their own.”
Lanea jerked a stiff nod. Not an apology, nor in any way an admission of fault. But a simple acknowledgment of the Sentinel's statement.
"Likewise, should there be a repetition on the part of the Hells."
Lanea stared for a moment longer, meeting the Sentinels glare with one of her own. Then once more exerted herself to make her voice calm, "Now. Where shall I meet you?"
As the two of them commenced the process of structuring the return of Keara, she found her mind silently propelling her promise into the aether once more. Sending her promise careening down the pathways of her mind and out, out where it was just possible that Keara might be able to sense it. Whatever tortures had been inflicted upon her, whatever madness Keara had been forced to endure in these deepest pits, help was at hand. Salvation would soon be hers, and Lanea could shake the filthy dirt from her heels, bringing Keara and her party of Hunters home at last.
Hold on Keara, she silently urged her captive daughter. Courage my darling. We are coming for you. A few more days of strength is all I can ask of you now, my love. The torture and terror are nearly done.
Far away from where that terrible negotiation progressed, torture was indeed being inflicted…
“Yes! I win! I finally win!” Keara cried out in triumph and leaped to her feet from her place on the couch next to Tatiana, accidentally smacking her blonde friend’s hat off her head. Her face carried with it one of the few genuine smiles that she had as yet displayed since her kidnapping, and the tension that had suffused her features for long, long minutes evaporated amidst the elation. And at least she didn’t hit Tatiana in the face or accidentally toss her controller across the room. Again. For all her natural grace, Keara had taken quite some time to master the rudiments of these ‘video games.’ The process had been an odd form of torture, yet another way in which the young Elf could have felt diminished and lessened. Yet as with so many things in Pantea’s corner of the Infernal Realms, Keara had been put off balance by her actual experience…
“What are you talking about?” Tatiana caught her hat as it fell and nonchalantly put it back in place. As was her seeming custom she was dressed in little beyond the hat, a set of gorgeously slick thigh high vinyl boots, a pair of booty shorts, and a tube top. An eclectically alluring outfit, for a strangely adorable woman, “I won. You finished in fourth place.” Her friendly face creased in a smile.
Keara was far too happy at her performance to let Tatiana’s petty and true words end her celebratory dance, “That’s still the top half! And not last place! And! And!” She gestured triumphantly, without thinking the words tumbled from her mouth, “I beat-” there was a tiny hitch, no more than a microsecond of a pause that only Keara and perhaps one other heard, “Mistress!”
She aimed a finger at Pantea, who sat cross-legged, cross-armed, pouting and grumbling from her place on the back of the large and muscular man who served on all fours as her seat. A smaller man, Jake, who was meant to be serving as her footrest and an elegant woman assigned to hold Pantea’s back so she could recline were both waiting unused. The racing game had been rather intense and had devoured Pantea’s attentions. The woman, Keara thought her name was Louise, had tried to massage the demon’s shoulders a minute ago, but Pantea had waved her off.
Keara could tell that Pantea was definitely unhappy. All the previous times that the players had gathered, Keara had come in dead last, with Pantea handily beating her. Keara had no idea how many hours she, her demonic captor, and the human thralls she had come to call…friends…or at least, friendly acquaintances, had poured into the silly cartoon racing game. It had definitely been a lot. Enough that Keara had finally, finally! Beaten Pantea.
“One more,” growled the succubus, her tail coiling and slithering around the man she was using as a seat. Based on its movements she certainly was agitated. Frustrated too. Yet not actually angry. Keara had assembled an at least rudimentary understanding of what the tail’s movements meant…after all, it seemed to slither around her often enough, “I almost have the hang of this stupid game.” The red-skinned succubus continued.
“You alway say that,” said the game’s fourth player, an American man named Rick who Pantea had enticed into servitude two decades ago. Keara had learned that he spent much of his free time playing video games, on his own as often as he was joined by other thralls. “And you never do. Face it Mistress, gaming just isn’t your thing.”
“It’s not my fault!” Pantea screeched, standing up from the kneeling man’s back and swatting his rump with an agitated hand, “They change things too much and too fast! I never have enough time with one version to get the hang of it before you spring a new one on me!” She jabbed a threatening finger at him, “Just like I’m gonna introduce you to my newest crop when we’re done here.”
“Eh, worth it.” Rick shrugged. Keara envied his laconic calm in the face of such things. Wait. She did? Of course she did. Right?
Keara sat back down, giving her head a shake and still smiling as she readied herself for a fresh race. She was going to do even better this time. Maybe even beat Rick or Tatiana!
She was dressed in one of her many ‘relaxation’ outfits that Pantea had allowed her, when she wasn’t dressed in silks and giving Pantea one of the Elven pleasure dances that so delighted her demonic captor. And, though Keara was loath to admit it, delighted the Elf too. That, plus a veritable parade of role playing costumes or simple outright fetish attire, had been the main bulk of her clothing…when she wasn’t completely nude apart from her bondage and being ravished in Pantea’s bed. No, this was a simple outfit. Tight green leather pants, far more form fitting and sexualized than her old uniform, yet an undeniable call back to it. And a brown leather bustier, equally tight yet leaving her midriff open, and displaying generous cleavage.
The first time, hell the first score of times, that Pantea had made her wear it, Keara thought she was going to die of embarrassment. Though a part of that was being in the outfit and being paraded around in collar, leash, and chains. All while mewling into her gag. Hell the very first time she had played video games with Pantea and some of the friendlier thralls, including of course the ever present Tatiana, Keara had been dressed in a similar version of her outfit, but in latex, and in precisely the sort of heavy bondage she had been thinking about. She had been allowed a pair of games before the humiliation of her losses, and her outfit and bondage, had provoked her into hurling her controller across the room. Which in turn had resulted in her being rapidly rebound into a boxtie, and frogtie, and plopped down between Pantea’s legs to serve for well over an hour as her Mistress’…no, her captor’s, pleasure pet.
Keara gave herself another mental shake, one hand rising without realizing to brush against her collar. Apart from a full set of ankle and wrist cuffs that were locked on but otherwise unconnected, the collar was the only other piece of her bondage. The true sign of her continued captivity and submission. She suddenly felt a gentle elbow press into her side, and Tatiana give her a friendly wink as the human woman dumped her controller into her hand and neatly severed the brooding path that Keara had been about to walk. Though The young Elf was quite sure that her captor had put her up to it, that Pantea had some nefarious purpose in mind, she found that she still took comfort for having something approaching a friend in this place. Tatiana, since that first awful day when Keara had tried to escape, had been a near constant companion, deliberately seeking her out at least once a day. When Keara was not with Pantea, or deliberately trying to find solitude, Tatiana was normally hauling her around to meet some of the others, or to try on various outfits, to chat about kinky and vanilla topics, or simply to offer companionable silence as they relaxed.
It was oddly normal. Oddly endearing. And Keara found herself incredibly thankful for the unfailingly cheerful and teasing approach that Tatiana took to the world. It certainly helped lessen the bouts of despair or depression that Keara still dipped into when her captivity gnawed at her.
“One more,” Pantea repeated. “And then, win or lose, I can get to punishing you for throwing me off with the—what is this, number eight?”
“That’s what it says on the box.” Rick’s tone somehow combined long suffering with a teasing flick that Keara found daring…and irritated at herself for wanting to giggle. And irritated at being irritated. Gaaah.
“For screwing me up with the eighth version of this ridiculous game when I still wasn’t used to ANY of the last seven—“
“You haven’t played all seven. Half of them are on handheld systems. You’ve played, like, three. Maybe four.”
“And for being a smartass.” Pantea growled, “You get punished for that too. And Keara for that little victory dance, and Tatiana for that smug little smirk she’s smirking right now after that last blasted red shell, and Anteaus for snickering at me while I’m sitting on him, and—”
She cut off for a moment, glowering at her giggling captives and shook her head, “You know what. Maybe I just need to be able to concentrate more while I’m playing…without all that distracting talking…”
Keara felt the small surge of power from the succubus, and suddenly a ball gag was hovering in front of her mouth. In fact, ball gags were hovering in front of the mouths of the humans too.
“Open wide troublemakers,” Pantea’s voice, still carrying that bite of fond irritation, had dropped a timbre. Dropped into that deeper, more seductive tone that her will bound thralls all moaned to hear, their mouths opening eagerly to accept the red orbs. Keara starred at hers for moments longer, her heart beating more quickly in her chest…yet then she too opened her mouth. Had that been a purr of satisfaction from Pantea? A twinkle in her eye? Some satisfaction at another notch towards Keara’s enslavement?
Keara, rather than freezing in fear of the punishment to come, or her own willing submission to being gagged, found herself joining in the small almost conspiratorial chuckle that sounded from many gagged mouths. Keara though looked around, eyeing the thralls around her, and then artfully pressed herself into a long and slow stretch, taking the time to arch her back and feeling a tingle and thrill at the attention to her moving body. To her innate Elven sensuality, the latent power of her people, wafting from her like the finest of subtle smells. Enticing and percolating through the brains of all those watching. Keara giggled a little as she felt not just Tatiana and Rick respond, but also Pantea herself. The demoness’ eyes suddenly became more focused, more hungry, and gazed at Keara with the open lust, enjoyment, care, and odd protective possessiveness that Keara had gradually found herself finding normal.
She secretly thrilled to watch as expressions which were already interested became aroused, needy, and excited. Months ago, Keara would have never so deliberately done something like that, the very idea of performing in front of dozens of people, of doing anything so bold and provocative would have sent her scurrying away in blushing embarrassment. Now though…now months confined in Pantea’s halls, in the Realm of Desire, had affected her. The constant day in and day out sensual games, arousing sights, and frustrating need that accompanied Pantea’s training had stiffened Keara. Enough that she found herself more naturally and comfortably teasing the human thralls of her demonic Mistress…and the succubus herself.
Friendly as she was with everyone here, Keara had to deliberately remind herself every day of the danger she was still in. Of the constant temptation that confronted her, all flowing back to one source.
The Succubus Pantea. Her kidnapper. Her erstwhile Mistress. The demonic woman who, somehow, had managed to seize a bridgehead in Keara’s mind and heart. A small barest sliver of her, despite the prickly mental defences, despite the hurt and terror, despite all that had happened to Keara over these past months…that sliver of Keara found herself thrilled when Pantea entered a room. That squirmed and delighted in the succubus’ attention. That felt a warmth and care that filled Keara in ways that she never would have expected. It all came back to that bloody harem dance that Keara had been forced to deliver. When she had first realized, first connected with Pantea, and felt that thread of protective care, that desire not just to subjugate, enslave and dominate but to…defend…protect certainly.
Keara mumbled into her gag, feeling as she did so the faint, teasingly probing tendrils of Pantea’s mental control reaching out to her. By now it was an old dance, yet one that had lost none of its potency. Pantea’s constant campaign to reduce her resistance, encourage her submission, and claim her at last took place across multiple realms. Physically, Keara had to fight and resist her near constant bondage, and try her best to not be carried away by the orgasms and denial that Pantea playfully imposed upon her. Just just as important were the mental and magical components. Pantea near constantly kept up a subtle and sensual barrage upon Keara’s mind, probing for weakness in her mental defences. Occasionally breaching points, acquiring more knowledge of her Elven captive, and occasionally leaving behind tantalizing hints and clues as to her feelings for her latest project. And of course even here, amidst all these games and seeming relaxation, Keara could not truly let her guard down. She was still herself. She was still free of any permanent binding to the Infernal Realms. To the infernal, terrifying, frustrating, arousing, and caring bitch who had captured her…and who was intent on making her a permanent, treasured pet.
She glowered at Pantea, and the demoness returned her glower with a frown…but Keara found herself unconcerned. By now she’d come to know Pantea well enough to recognize when she was truly furious and when she was simply making a show of it. The punishment the succubus was promising would not be serious, like the one Keara received when she tried to run. It would be little more than a prelude to something more… fun.
And Pantea, it turned out, was more than happy to express her playful displeasure at losing. Especially after, despite her copious use of blue shells, lightening, and boosts, she still failed to beat any of her thralls…and Keara very nearly lapped her.
Rick was the first victim, yanked away from the couch and rapidly stripped and stuffed into a strict bitch suit. As he had squirmed around, mumbling his mulish insistence that it had been a series of fair races, Pantea had nodded, spanked him, and then snapped her fingers. A half a dozen red, blue, and green dodgeballs, shaped like shells suddenly orbited her and she smiled toothily down at Rick.
“Here’s my game, smartass. We played ten games. Three laps per game. That makes thirty laps that you,” Her tail flashed out to deliver a stinging spank on his rubber covered ass, “bullied your Mistress with your success. So now, you get to play my game. You will need to crawl along in this delightful suit, all around the room we are in, thirty times. And to motivate you…” She raised her hand and the dodgeball shells began to suddenly circle Rick, and every half a dozen seconds one would plummet down to strike him on the butt, “I figured you’d appreciate the…poetry…of such a punishment.”
“It’s not my fault you burn through your boosts and don’t aim your shells!” Rick had grumbled, having gotten free from his gag while he was being bound, and squirmed, but Pantea’s eyes had just narrowed, and the rapid strikes of the shells were enough to convince him to begin waddling off around the large relaxation space. “You have to learn to drift too!” Rick called out…right before his large ballgag shoved its way back into his mouth, silencing any further video game related chirping he might have done. Which allowed Pantea to turn on her remaining thralls…who were appropriately cowering. Well, Jake was appropriately cowering. Tatiana just looked excited.
“Now then, you two…” Pantea began to approach the pair of humans, a profusion of belts suddenly snapping into being and covering around her like threatening snakes of kinky restraint, “I think a long period of thinking over your crimes is necessary…but before I do, any last words? Confessions? Excuses?” The ballgags from Jake and Tatiana popped free.
“But I didn’t do anything…” Jake protested weakly, rising from where he had been kneeling to back away a little. He darted a look at Tatiana half pleading, and half suspicious, “I didn’t even say anything!”
“He was thinking it Mistress!” Tatiana cut in immediately, a confident, teasing smile plastered on her face as she practically vibrated on the couch with eagerness, “I could tell! He needs to be right here.” She gestured at her voluptuous chest, and Pantea stiffled a chuckle.
“Mmmm, the two of you do make a delightful sight together…” Pantea cocked her head for a moment, tail lashing behind her slightly, and then her eyes widened with delight, “Done!”
The belts snapped forward. Jake had time for one plaintive wail of denial. Tatiana one of excitement…and then it was all grunts, groans, straining leather, and the snap and creak of belts being tightened around squirming forms. Keara and the other two humans watched open mouthed as Tatiana and Jake were made into writhing, wiggling worms of leather, before longer belts snapped and pulled them together, creating one writhing package. Pantea exerted herself again, Keara feeling the tug of magic on the edge of her senses, and the squirming humans suddenly rose into the air. A single ballgag with two sets of straps dangled between them, and their heads were forced forward. Joined together in an enforced kiss as the straps were buckled tightly, and they were left to hang there. Unsupported but for the magic and the leather keeping them together. Tatiana wriggling in enjoyment against Jake and already mumbling incomprehensibly into their shared gag. Jake’s face already red and getting redder as he was aroused and ambarrassed at Tatiana’s friendly attentions.
Antaeus grunted suddenly, and Keara turned in surprise to find that he was already sporting bondage of his own. A very involved gag had appeared, some combination of cock gag, tight wraps, and a leather muzzle gag all contrived to effectively keep him silenced. Thick leather cuffs sprouted on his muscular arms and wrists, wrenching him first into a boxtie, and then into a straining hogtie, and made him arch his back and gurgle a faint straining wheeze into his gag. Pantea strode over to him, resting a hand on his head, and then looking up at the final human woman. Louise, that quiet lass, was standing there frozen in anticipation.
“You, my sweet Louise…” Pantea cocked her head again, one hand still resting on Antaeus’ head, “You…get the afternoon off. Partially. Go relax, read, eat, do something to amuse yourself for a few hours…when I’m done here, I want you to keep this beefy boy,” She spanked Antaeus hard, “I want him kept in tight bondage. I want you to have fun with him. Use him all you want, take as many orgasms as you wish…but he is not to cum until I allow it.”
Louise flushed, nodding rapidly, her wide eyes on Antaeus.
“Good girl. Go.”
Which left Keara, who had been slowly edging towards one of the other doors, her attention torn between the thralls being bound, Pantea herself, and that niggling voice that once again screamed at her to run. To take advantage of this moment and flee. But when Pantea turned back to her, having taken the time to bind up nearly every human within the room, she found Keara more or less right where she had been left. Standing near the couch, fighting with herself, and blushing as Pantea’s gaze fell upon her.
“My lil’ Huntress…” Pantea purred, “I have the perfect way for the two of us to spend your punishment time. While your fellow slaves squirm away in bondage, and strain in stress positions…I want you to strain in a different way.” She raised her hand, and Keara flinched as her captor’s fingers snapped.
Shackles appeared in front of her and snapped onto her wrists, chains tinkling between the two cuffs. Another set sprouted around her ankles, making Keara stumble slightly. Her clothing remained the same though, and Pantea’s tail hooked through her collar, reeling Keara in until the succubus could wrap her arms and body around Keara. Still gripping the collar with her tail, forcing Keara to look down slightly into her eyes, as Pantea grinned up at her tall Elven captive.
“I am in the mood for a little dance routine from my favourite Elf…” Pantea murmured throatily, her eyes locked onto Keara’s own, her lips curving in a hungry smile as Keara flushed. The demoness leaned in, drawing in a deep breath of Keara, one hand groping her butt, the other caressing her face. Demonstrating her power, yet somehow also communicating her care at the same time. Keara shuddered, twitching a little as her lips formed snarls around her gag, as those snarls gave way to somethign all together more sensual and welcoming, and then shattered apart again into uncertain mumbling. All within the span of heartbeats. And, she hoped, undetectable to the demoness.
Pantea’s grin, alas, told her otherwise.
“And just so you are properly motivated my dear…” Pantea’s grin widened into a knowing smirk, “You are going to dance for me with one goal in mind. To convince me to abandon an afternoon of fun with everyone here, and take you back to my rooms to enjoy alone. Convince me that you deserve my undivided attentions, that you have desires, lusts, that only I can slake. Tell me with your body, your movements, your delightful Elven sensuality, that you wish nothing more than to fall asleep in my arms again.”
Pantea giggled, somehow getting even closer until Keara could see nothing but her eyes, “Do that for me Baby Elf, and I shall give you that evening. I will take you back, abandon these silly thralls to an afternoon of bondage, and you and I shall enjoy ourselves alone. Fail to convince me though…” Her eyes twinkled the crafty bitch, Keara thought hotly, “…and I will make you dance in your full harem outfit in the dining hall.”
Keara moaned into her gag, eyes wide and her head shook as she squirmed in her chains.
“Mmmmm…” Pantea shrugged artfully, “I really don’t mind which, my sensual slave. It’s really a question of what you want. Do you want to spend an evening of pleasure with your Mistress? Or do you want to dance before everyone…for hours…?”
Keara shuddered, and then stumbled slightly as Pantea stepped back, settling herself onto the couch, “Either way, Baby Elf…I win.”
Hours later, Keara stood at the threshold of the door to one of Pantea’s many bedchambers. In the end, she had chosen dancing. She had chosen to enthrall and excite Pantea, pouring herself into the dance to the same highly sensual and erotic level that she had previously to win free from chastity.
The image of herself dancing like some common tavern wench in front of all those people…and not just those thralls that she was becoming friends with…that had been enough to send Keara’s mind screaming away in terror. She still felt uncomfortable at remembering her first dance, and only the fact that it had won her free from the belt, and a night of peace from Pantea’s incessant mental attacks, had been enough to assuage her feelings.
So she had danced, gyrated, teased and titillated, until at last Pantea had pulled her onto the couch. Until Pantea had captured her windmilling limbs, pinioned them close, and proceeded to make out with her while all around the moans and muffled cries of her slaves had washed over the pair of them. Until Keara herself was blushing and moaning and quivering with undisguised needs of her own…and Pantea had shoved her away.
“Go to my chambers Pet. You’ve earned a night with your Mistress.”
Keara swallowed, her eyes darting around. The roiling smoky clouds above that constituted the ceiling were dinged with a throbbing pulsing energy. The rooms red walls fairly glowed with sensual appeal, and within the room…
Keara blushed. Pantea lay on the bed within, having somehow gotten here before her, gorgeous in a black leather outfit that was a virtual copy of Keara’s own outfit. Yet where Keara’s outfit screamed submissive sexuality, Pantea’s simply aroused and titillated. Promised pleasure, yet implied subservience for the viewer. Displayed flesh yet demanded surrender for more. Keara flushed more brightly red, standing on the threshold as Pantea grinned at her. That annoyingly confident, pleasingly welcoming, warm smile that frustrated and comforted Keara at the same time. Bloody, bloody woman!
“Hello my pet,” Pantea purred, “How is my darling Baby Elf today? Sorry, perhaps, for beating your Mistress? Aroused and needy? Wanting attention?”
Keara growled, blushing but shaking her head…and gave herself a small shake as she felt Pantea’s mental, proving tendrils suddenly streak out and latch onto something, needing a concentrated mental effort to dispel their grasp on a particular set of memories from Faerie. Yet, as she surfaced from that effort she found that she was stepping forward into the room, Pantea smiling widely at her.
“That’s it my sweet Pet, come to me.” Pantea purred. Her tail writhed on the bed, rising up to sway before Keara’s eyes. Drawing her in. Drawing her close to where it could latch onto her.
Keara found herself stepping forward. She felt her clothes come alive as Pantea’s magic reached out, and found in turn her body pulled and pushed by her outfit leaving her…and bondage flying to greet her. Keara could dimly feel the magics Pantea worked her will upon even as she desperately sparred with the demoness. Playing their game for mental dominance and defence, concentrating her effort on simply preserving her mental defences. Yet in so doing she felt herself stepping forward, willingly following the enticing beckoning of Pantea’s languid fingers. Feeling her clothing behind shed, leaving her naked apart from her thrice damned collar. Feeling her arms pulled behind her, feeling the snug armbinder tug up and cinch down into place. She reached the bed, and Pantea’s tail lazily circled up, running across her body and making Keara shiver and moan. Keara gasped into her ballgag as the tail snatched her firmly by the collar, and yanked her into Pantea’s arms.
She squirmed in the warm embrace, and looked up to find warm and hungry eyes alight with playful promise gazing back at her, “I hope you realize, my sweet Huntress…I am going to make you pay for every race you beat me at…”
Keara groaned, wanting to grunt something suitably defiant, but finding all she actually could bring herself to do was writhe and moan in Pantea’s arms. To feel the shivery pleasure race up her spine as Pantea’s tail teased her inner thigh, heightening her already heady sense of arousal. She felt her own sensual nature respond. Felt herself press and squirm, and artfully twist and turn in ways that fanned the fires of Pantea’s lusts…and her own desires too. Keara groaned, beginning to grind against Pantea as the demonic woman turned her to sit on Pantea’s lap, one muscular thigh in between Keara’s legs, and then suddenly Keara’s eyes snapped open. Locking eyes with Pantea. Locking wills.
The room was quiet still, but for their noises. Their breathing, their moans, the shifting and turning of their bodies…and the panting of their mutual arousal. The contest within was another matter, raging back and forth in one of the more full scale assaults and defences that either had yet revealed against the other. Mental probes and attacks struck firmly home against sturdy barriers and ferociously defended inner fortresses of the mind. Throbbing desire, promises of unending pleasure, domination, and caring ownership flung their weight against Keara’s stubborn resistance. Her sensual defiance. Her eroding sense of independence and Elven free-spiritedness. Pantea’s aim always to overcome or undermine these to get behind them. Get within Keara’s mind and strike at last at the core. At Keara’s frustrated, aching needs. Sexual certainly, her overarching desire for pleasure and desires to be teased, titillated and quenched only in slavery to Pantea. But also at a deeper need. Keara’s need to be wanted. To be desired for herself. To be cared for. Those deeper ones, protected by Keara’s stoutest defences, were what Pantea aimed at afresh each and every day. Burrowing her way deeper into Keara’s mind, even as Pantea endeavored to distract Keara with physical pleasure and denial. With bondage, and soft touches. With stern punishments and achingly pleasurable sex. All of it to unbalance Keara, and propel her into a mental space where Pantea could at last seize hold.
It was a battle that, save for that single day truce after Keara had danced for Pantea, had gone on without respite. It was a battle that Keara fought with increasing desperation every day. Pantea leaned in suddenly, her mental pressure looming larger, as she sought to kiss Keara. And Keara…gave in to it. She didn’t pull away. As Pantea’s lips pressed to hers, as the succubus’ tail curled around her thighs, teasing her sex, as Keara felt lust and desire batter against her mind, she let out a long, loud moan that mingled her lusts, arousal, and confusing feelings of attachment with despair.
For it was a battle…that she was losing.