0 - 0 - 7 - 03:54 - Evanescent

The flatbed truck had stopped when the swarm of dune buggies and motorcycles had it surrounded. Either the occupants thought that they were going to get out of this situation or they had already determined that escape was impossible. Indeed the number of spearguns aiming at the wheels of the steam truck would have made the chase end very quickly.

Evanescent pulled up in her buggy close enough to hear Caspar, a leader of the Queen’s guard, speak with the driver.

“We’re looking for a missing woman - Holy shit! What happened to you boys? It looks like you’ve been in quite a brawl there…” Caspar said.

“Yes sir,” the driver replied. “We came upon an encampment of those fucking metal nomad bitches and had a bit of a disagreement. Of course, we couldn’t use real force on them, due to the Queen’s proclamation to stay away. God save Her Majesty. Law abiding citizens is what we are, you know.”

“Mmm hmm,” Caspar nodded. “Well we’re looking for a short woman named Aife, dark hair, tends to dress in gray. We had word that she had a run in with a truck that fits the description of yours.”

“No sir,” the driver said. “Haven’t seen any short women out here unless she was one of those metal bitches, that is.”

Evanescent looked over at Tuva, one of the Princess’ Guard who was left to keep a presence in Cowen while the Princess was in Joppa. She pointed at the trucks tracks in the sand and flicked her hand in the direction from which they came. Tuva nodded and drove off.

“Can you please step out of the vehicle? We’d like to take a quick look,” Caspar said.

The driver sat in silence for a moment looking at the collection of guards located around the truck. “I reckon so. But you aren’t going to find her in here.”

The door opened and he got out. The passenger door opened as well and two other men exited - twins, apparently. Each had an array of bruises and scratch marks. The twins looked like they had been crying.

“This is quite a production you got going here for just a missing woman,” the driver commented.

“That’s what I’ve been thinking,” Caspar said. “The witch has got something up her ass.” Caspar pointed over at Evanescent.

“She’s a witch?” the driver asked. He turned and screamed over at Evanescent, “You got a good luck charm I could have? One of them rabbit’s foots?”

Evanescent turned away and start mumbling quietly. She saw a red flare shoot up in the air from about a click away. Tuva!

“Arrest these men,” Evanescent said to Caspar.

Caspar groaned.

“I was just joking about the rabbit’s foot thing,” the driver said. “What a bitch!”

Evanescent resumed her mumbling and reignited the engine of her buggy and started to pull away.

The driver squawked once and began jumping up and down. He kicked off his shoes and began tearing his pants off, screaming. “Something’s burning me!”

“Farrow! Zoey! Follow me!” Evanescent screamed as she started off in the direction that the truck tracks led.

Evanescent drove up a small rise and found Tuva frantically digging at the sand with her hands. She pulled up and grabbed the shovels from the back of the buggy. She started to help dig, but handed over her shovel to Farrow fairly quickly, cursing her own lack of strength. She looked around wishing she had a spell to move sand, but how do you command a specific clump of sand when sand was everywhere.

“We’ve hit some wood. Pass down the hand drill, Mistress Sorceress, please,” Tuva screamed.

“Yeah,” Evanescent said. “Yeah!” She felt so useless.

“She’s alive!” Farrow called up after a moment. “I hear groaning.”

“Ropes!” Tuva called up after a few minutes.

Evanescent helped as best she could. Handing down tools and pushing the sand away from the hole so it wouldn’t slide back in. Finally, there was a crack of wood and the lid of the coffin was pulled off.

Evanescent looked down into the hole. “Oh! Thank the Goddess! Oh, Aife!” She was looking quite battered. Her hands were tied over her head, blue, her fingers swollen and misshapen. Her face was bruised and bloodied. Her clothes were ripped and in tatters. Had she been a virgin or was all the blood simply from the trauma?

Aife’s eyes opened briefly.

“Aife! Everything will be OK, now,” Evanescent said. “We’re getting you out of here.”

“Zeigh,” Aife whispered through swollen lips. “Is Zeigh OK?”

“Don’t worry about Zeigh. She’s safe at the castle. She saved your life,” Evanescent said.

Aife closed her eyes and seemed to drop into unconsciousness.

More of the Princess’ Guard were arriving at the scene and they quickly pulled Aife from the ground and placed her on a stretcher. Evanescent sat next to her as they secured the stretcher into a transport truck. She wove a spell for pain. She cursed herself for not knowing more healing spells.

Evanescent was not a doctor. She did not know how to evaluate a patient. In order to heal a person with magic, one must first know what to heal. Otherwise, the magic could cause more damage than good. She cursed herself and Morgana as well. She had recently learned quite a bit about how to fuse metal to a human’s head. After all she would have to demonstrate her skill on Kapitolina in nine days. But still, she knew nothing about fixing broken fingers or ribs. She vowed to learn more about anatomy in the future… whenever she had time…

Tuva suddenly shouted out, “Over here! This ground has been recently turned as well! Bring shovels!”

Evanescent looked up. Sure enough, she could see a patch of darker sand covering an area about the size of a human’s coffin.

“Fuck! I’m useless!” she cursed to herself. She should have been looking around while the other women were digging for Aife. Maybe this could be Karma.

She pressed one more spell to relieve pain into Aife’s unconscious body and then started to look around the rise they were on. She found no other obvious spots where the sand had been stirred up. She looked out towards the horizon at the undulating landscape - each rise followed by another.

“We’ve hit wood!” someone screamed from where the women were digging.

Farrow grabbed the drill and jumped down into the hole. Evanescent moved closer, filled with hope. Could Karma be alive in the coffin? Moments later though Farrow climbed back out of the hole, tumbling through the sand on all fours, finally vomiting.

Evanescent frowned and stepped toward Farrow, helping to hold up her hair.

“Some things can’t be unsmelled,” she said, still spitting.

Evanescent looked back over at the group of women working over the hole. They were suddenly much more somber. They no longer moved with a sense of urgency.

Finally, one of the guards spoke up. “It’s Chelsea. She was one of the Princess’ slaves. She went missing from Madam Shovair’s four days ago…”


0 - 0 - 7 - 08:40 - Maisie

Maisie had just been returned to the cell that she shared with Piper. She pulled the hood that muffled sounds and blocked out her sight off her head, careful to let the chain attached to her tongue slip gently through the grommet. She snapped the hood to the metal collar that was locked around her neck. Piper was already lying in the bed that joined their two rooms. Her breasts bundled in the shocker harness.

“Honey! I’m home from work!” Maisie joked.

“...mmm...” (8 words) Piper replied holding up a tube filled with the mush that Maisie was forced to eat. “...mmm...” (5 words)

“Oh! I’m really tired. They made me work out twice. Legs and arms. I can barely move. Also, I had a session with Tongue and they scrubbed me down like a zoo animal,” Maisie replied.

“...mmm...” (3 words) Piper replied.

“Don’t be jealous of Tongue, Piper. I can only assume that Tongue is actually a person and not some sort of machine with a strategically pierced, wet, slippery appendage. Tongue could never replace you,” Maisie joked. “What did they have you do today?”

“...mmm...” (11 words) Piper said, flopping her arms around randomly. “...mmm...” (11 words)

“Yes, ma’am. Right away.” Maisie pulled on the chain that was attached to her harness in her lower back and climbed up on the bed. She brushed the thin chain dangling between her lips to the side and kissed Piper.

“...mmm...” (11 words) Piper said.

“What sentence do they make you say?” Maisie asked.

“...mmm...” (7 words) Piper responded.

“Holy mother! That is a cruel thing to make you say! You’re not though, you know! Well… at least your not worthless, but the rest, I’m fine with.” Maisie kissed Piper again smiling. “They must still be trying to figure out how to translate what you are saying. Good luck with that!”

Piper pressed her fingers to her ear where a communication device had been mounted with piercings. Maisie frowned and waited for whatever communications were to be passed to her. For some reason, none of their captors would speak with Maisie at all. In fact, when she was not in the cell, she was always forced to wear the hood which prevented her from speaking and seeing and muffled most of anything she could hear. Now, whenever their captors wanted to communicate something they passed it through the communication device in Piper’s ear. In turn Piper had to relay the message.

Maisie had the sense that they were doing this to drive a wedge between her and Piper. For Piper would suffer if she did not pass on the communications regardless of how good or bad they may be. But the chain of communication had the subtle effect of making Piper seem to be the one issuing the decrees of their captors. Maisie understood this possible effect and continuously reminded herself that Piper was the reason she carried on. Vatica and Dr. Norost were the enemy.

“...mmm...” (10 words) Piper said.

“Whatever…” Maisie directed her voice to the room speaking to whomever was monitoring them. “I’ll repeat exactly what Piper says!”

“...mmm...” (4 words) Piper said as she listened to the voice in her ear bud.

“She said, ‘I am a whore’,” Maisie growled.

“...mmm...” (5 words) Piper said, a smile gracing her lips for a moment.

“She said, ‘I am a lesbian whore’,” Maisie said, looking out into the room.

“...mmm...” (4 words) Piper said.

“Once again, she said, ‘I am a whore’,” Maisie replayed.

“...mmm...” (6 words)  Piper said.

“She said, ‘I am a worthless lesbian whore’,” Maisie growled once more. “You’re not, though.”

“...mmm...” (5 words) Piper said.

“She said, ‘Now I must feed you’,” Maisie said.

Piper laughed, “...mmm...” (13 words) She held up the feeding tube.

Maisie resituated herself and patted her lap. Piper handed Maisie the feeding tube and lay down so that her head rested in Maisie’s lap. “You’re a lesbian goddess, Piper. I am in thrall to you. Always.” She stuck the tube in her mouth and started eating.

Piper smiled as Maisie gently ran her fingers through her hair. She began humming a song. Piper not only communicated in a particularly beautiful way, but her voice alone was so rich that she could stir emotions. As she lay, staring up at Maisie, humming her song, Maisie could not help but feel relaxed and content. This, despite all the suffering and uncertainty that Dr. Norost was heaping upon them.

It was not long before Maisie was sated. The gruel that pressed from the feeding tube was mostly tasteless, but it seemed to settle within her quite effectively. As soon as she set the feeding tube to the side, though, Piper began receiving instructions in her ear once again.

“...mmm...” (9 words) Piper said.

“Tease me?” Maisie asked.

Piper leaned over the edge of the bed on her side of the cell and pulled up a cylinder topped by a silicone dome of some sort. Piper looked at the cylinder for a second until she located a switch, which she pressed causing the cylinder to take on a light buzzing sound. Piper pushed Maisie’s legs apart and settled the silicone dome into the slit in the harness over her sex.

“Wooah! Oh!” Maisie said. “Mmm. Holy mother!” She settled back into the pillows a little, relaxing her legs. At first touch, the vibrations were a bit intense, but she was settling into the rhythm quickly. “This won’t take an hour,” she said, smiling at Piper. “Oh!”

The vibrations were quite effective and she closed her eyes and smiled as her sex flushed with lubrication. Soon she was raising her hips off the mattress seeking to gain just that little more contact. Suddenly she felt a rising sensation of pleasure ripple up her chest causing her to lose control of her breathing and she arched her back as the pleasure began to build for an eruption.

Piper flinched suddenly and pulled the domed head of the cylinder out of contact. Maisie groaned, but let her fingers slide in to stroke the places which needed it the most. Piper quickly batted Maisie’s hands away.

“...nuh...” (11 words) she explained.

Maisie froze, suddenly not so excited about her impending orgasm. Instead, erotic thoughts quickly fled from her brain. “Well, forget this then,” she said and closed her legs together. She felt the sensations of arousal quickly recede, replaced by anger and hatred.

Piper flinched again, reaching a hand towards her left breast, but stopping short. She pressed the dome of the vibrator back on Maisie’s sex. The caress of the device was not enough to penetrate Maisie’s hatred though, and after a few seconds Piper flinched again and issued a short screech.

Maisie looked at the harness wrapped around Piper’s breasts with the straps and the metal leads running through piercings in her nipples. “Are they electrocuting you?” she asked, scowling.

“...ooo...” (6 words) Piper cried.

Maisie suddenly realized that they were monitoring her. This body suit that they made her wear must be monitoring her body for signs of arousal. Currently, she was not aroused at all. She was angry. But, if she could not find a place of arousal, then they were going to continue shocking Piper.

As if on cue, Piper let forth another quick yelp of pain.

“OK, OK! I’ll try to relax!” Maisie said and she lay back into the pillows again trying hard to push the anger from her mind. Piper flinched a few more times, but the events began to trail off. Each time Maisie began to think about her hatred, Piper would flinch again and force Maisie to refocus on the sensations that the vibrator was delivering to her core.

Finally, she was able to start feeling the pleasure of the wand and Piper was no longer flinching. She had apparently achieved the perfect level of arousal to satisfy whatever Dr. Norost and her machines required.

Piper adjusted the vibrator a little and the new sensation began to push Maisie a little further along the arousal continuum. She started to tap Piper’s hand away, but as soon as she reached out, Piper flinched again and this time reached for her right breast.

“Too close!” Maisie whined and Piper pulled the silicone dome away from Maisie’s sex.

For her part, Maisie was struggling to avoid finishing herself off. She slipped her hands under her butt, sitting on them, just to keep them from wandering back into the playing fields. Maisie began to relax from the stimulation a little and soon Piper flinched and reapplied the vibrator, once again beginning the push of Maisie’s arousal.

“How long has it been?” Maisie asked, her voice strained.

“...mmm...” (2 words) Piper hummed, frowning, gently soothing the pain in her left breast.

“Oh, fuck!”


0 - 0 - 7 - 15:42 - Ileana

When Ileana arrived Nothing was panting and whimpering. Her eyes were darting from side to side blindly in the complete darkness. Her leg and arms muscles were flexing and straining against the chains that held her immobile on the floor of her sarcophagus.

This was the third visit that Ileana had made into the darkness of the grave to care for her ward since she began teasing her sexually, though Ileana preferred not to count. It seemed that her strategy was working well. Nothing was distracted. She was no longer focused on phantom sensations. She did not speak of voices driving her crazy in the darkness or visions of demons raking her with their claws.

Ileana knew that humans often had to sleep - to enter an altered zone of consciousness. She was not sure if Nothing was sleeping at all recently, she was wholly focused, it seemed, on worshipping Ileana. The human was making promises that would be hard to keep beseeching Ileana to push her to orgasm. Ileana noted each promise and determined to use them for bargaining in the future.

Now, though, Nothing seemed to be awake, but not completely responsive. Ileana had pressed her nipple to the human’s mouth, but she failed to latch on and simply groaned. It was time. Conditions and responses must be ingrained slowly over time.

Ileana grabbed a handful of Nothing’s hair and gently pulled it towards the head side of the grave until the human moaned in ecstasy. She settled her face near the human’s and, with her tongue, gently tickled the skin between the woman’s jaw bone and the metal collar locked around her neck. She slowly worked her lips up Nothing’s jaw until she found her earlobe which she sucked between her lips. Nothing jerked and thrust her chest into the air, grunting. Ileana placed her palm on the human’s abdomen, feeling it tremble under her touch. She slid it down across the sweat slickened swell of the woman’s pubic bone, down between the woman’s thighs a finger, each, tight in the crease between labia and leg.

Nothing continued to jerk and whimper incoherently.

“Now, cum for me,” Ileana whispered into her ear. She circled Nothing’s clit with her fingers, plying it with the slightest friction.

Nothing went rigid. She was not breathing or speaking. She simply arched, flexing her back off the floor of the grave and held there for a moment. She flopped down with a thump, then flexed again. A hoarse scream slowly erupted until there was no more breath to feed it, eventually forcing Nothing to collapse again.

Ejaculate flushed out from Nothing’s sex drenching Ileana’s palm.

And so, with one hand in Nothing’s hair, another on her sex, and her lips tickling the human’s ear, Ileana watched as her ward flopped in sexual bliss, slowly, slowly settling.

“Who is your Goddess?” Ileana whispered after long minutes of climax.

“You,” Nothing whispered.

Ileana brought her hand up to Nothing’s mouth smearing the liquid from her sex across her lips, then pushing her fingers inside for Nothing to caress with her tongue. She pulled her fingers back out and spread her palm across Nothing’s cheek.

“I taste,” Nothing whispered, “like you.”


0 - 0 - 8 - 07:14 - Joliette

Joliette could hear the murmur of a host of voices as she was led down the hall with her slave sisters, Olga, Crystal, and Auburn. Each of them were flanked by two exceedingly tall and muscular men armored and carrying menacing looking swords, claymores - shiny, highly polished, but still quite effective designs. They were being taken to a stage for display before the people of Cowen.

This was the Chastening Ceremony. The leaders of the Metal Nomads had apparently made their decision regarding which of the four of them would become the next Last West Virgin, taking over for the role that Princess Merkeza had demanded for the past eleven years. The chosen woman would be forced to hand over access to her body to the Metal Nomads for the next five years. The Metal Nomads were a tribe of women and had no use for a woman’s body, so, in effect, the Last West Virgin would be locked in metal gear designed to ensure her chastity.

The four young women were led out onto a stage and told to stand on particular marks. Joliette, like her slave sisters, was dressed in robes and a hood. She had been instructed to keep her eyes to the floor. She was happy for the excuse to not have to look out into the crowd of faces. As she was positioned on the stage, however, she did notice a large structure made of metal bars and set upon a wheeled platform. At first she thought it was some kind of art installation with the shiney straight metal arms angled inwards from around the periphery of the structure. However, then she noticed the barred door in front and realized it was some sort of special cage. Indeed, it was a cage set within another cage. An occupant would be forced to squat in the inner cage which was suspended within, held by strong support bars. The outer array of bars were more than an arm’s length away from the inner cage. So, if the outer door was also locked, no one would even be able to touch the occupant of the inner cage.

From underneath the upper hem of her hood, Joliette watched a man dressed in a fancy suit and top hat step up onto the stage and address the crowd. “These, ladies and gentlemen of Cowen, are the candidates for the position of the new Last West Virgin.” There was a round of applause.

“Many years ago, our distant cousins fled to the desert searching for a freedom that they felt was missing from life in Cowen. A war of fertility erupted between the two resulting cultures. It was a war that was suffocating both civilizations. A treaty was writ to end the violence - one that isolated our two cultures from one another to stop the bloodshed. A lifeline however, was created to remember our common origin and to make sure we would continue to have a channel of communication if necessary. To maintain that lifeline is the duty of the Last West Virgin. She must be the virgin daughter of a high ranking nobleman of Cowen and she must serve for a duration of four years. Our most gracious Princess demanded the role of the Last West Virgin almost 12 years ago, but now, she had begun the rites of matrimony to Prince Jansen of Joppa-by-the-sea. She must still wear the bonds of chastity until her third term is up. However, since she is no longer here in Cowen the new Last West Virgin will be chosen and begin her term concurrently. Tonight we shall reveal the selected virgin daughter.”

The speaker stepped back, dramatically waving his hands to indicate Joliette and her three slave sisters as they stood ready for display. “Here are the candidates…”

The guards flanking Olga stepped up to her and pulled her hood off her head to reveal her face to the crowd. “The oldest daughter of Nobleman Friess.” The crowd clapped as a man, presumably Olga’s blood father, climbed up onto the stage.

Next Joliette sensed her guards flank her, grabbing the hood of her robe. “The third daughter of Nobleman Justice.” Joliette looked out into the crowd, standing tall, but expressionless - just as she had been taught. She watched her father climb the stage, pumping a fist as though he had done something which should be celebrated.

“The third daughter of Nobleman Adelson,” the man in the top hat shouted. And Crystal was revealed to the crowd. Finally, Auburn was pushed forward. “And the fifth daughter of Nobleman Cotch!”

The four fathers now stood in a line next to the speaker who turned to address them. “Gentlemen, the city of Cowen thanks you for the job that you have done to protect the virtue of your beautiful daughters. Despite today’s selections, you each shall be richly rewarded for the service that you have so nobly provided for the peace and prosperity of our city and culture.”

The men each nodded and smiled waving to the crowd.

“This envelope bearing the seal of the Queen of the Metal Nomads contains the name of the next Last West Virgin.” The speaker made a production of showing the fathers the sealed envelope, which he then opened with a flourish. “The next Last West Virgin will be… the third daughter of Nobleman Justice!”

Joliette saw her father jump in jubilation and the crowd cheered. In the chaos of the moment, Joliette glanced quickly over towards Olga and for a second their eyes met. She saw fear, perhaps uncertainty, but then Olga shuttered her emotions.

“The cage, Miss,” the guard to Joliette’s left said.

She turned and looked at the array of metal bars. A slavegirl was standing inside the outer cage waving Joliette to step inside. She lifted the lower hems of her robes and stepped over the threshold of the outer cage.

The slave girl held out a steadying hand. “Just climb up into the void, Mistress.”

Joliette ascended seven steps to a small barred container. This inner cell was supported on all sides by an array of angled metal bars designed to keep the occupant well away from any person’s reach. She turned around to face the crowd then slid backwards into the space. There was a small seat perhaps a hand’s height off the floor of the space, and when she sat in it her head almost brushed the barred roof of the inner cell. She pulled her legs into the space, bending her knees, wrapping them with her arms to get fully inside the door. Then the slave girl swung the door of the inner cage shut with a loud clang of metal. Once the door was closed, she pulled on it as an attempt to reopen it and to prove to her handlers that the door was now securely locked. Next, the slave girl exited the outer cage, turned and shut that door as well.

The man in the top hat was still addressing the crowd: “Now, our newly annointed West Virgin is untouchable within her cage where she shall remain until the Queen of the Metal Nomads returns with a custom fit chastity belt. This way we can ensure the purity of the new ambassador.”

Joliette started to spread her arms apart, but quickly was limited by the bars of the inner cage on both sides of her seat. She would not be able to move much while she was locked in the cage. She looked back out of her small cage through the array of bars into the spotlights aimed at her - blinding her ability to see the audience.

There was a sudden loud clang of stone on metal. Joliette’s right cheek alighted with a searing burn. Something had flashed through her vision. There was a clatter behind her. Joliette raised her hand to soothe the burn of her cheek and oddly felt something wet. She brought her hand down to find her palm coated in blood. Realization seemed to dawn slowly, though it was just a moment in time.

I’ve been shot! she realized.

Noise rose around her - screams of guards on the stage, an uproar out in the crowd. Her cage jerked with movement. The whole cage structure had been set on wheels and now she saw a numbered of guards struggling to push the cage off the stage through an exit behind a curtain at the back of the stage. As she was rolled backwards away from the audience, her cage passed a guard holding an arrow with a bloodied tip.

Joliette’s cheek was burning even more intensely from the corner of her mouth to her ear. She looked out towards where Olga had been standing and saw guards pulling her by her wrists off to the wing of the stage. Then the curtain fell and she was in a smaller room with many people running around her cage.

“How bad is it?” Someone was yelling.

“Madam Virgin, Madam Virgin!”

It took a moment for Joliette to realize that they were calling to her.

“Can you hear me?”

Joliette slowly turned her head to the source of the voice.

“Press the wound with your robes! You must stop the bleeding.”

Another person was screaming to save the arrow, apparently concerned about poison.

Joliette looked down at the sleeve of her robe. It was already covered in red. I’m bleeding pretty badly, she thought to herself. She raised her sleeve and gently pressed it to her face.

“Send a messenger to the Queen of the Metal Nomads,” someone else was yelling. “We need to tend her wound, but we can’t open her cage without the Queen’s key!”