by Ther Renard
"Shhh," she said softly. Though Kira was barely making a sound, to Ayla's sensitivities the room was filled with a soul rending howling. She gathered Kira up in her arms, carried her upstairs to the bedroom and held her as the silent screams bounded around the walls. Kira curled up in a ball, shaking as Ayla instinctively looked over her shoulder. There would be hell to pay if Ariadne felt this, and with the silent din Kira was making the whole village could probably feel it. "Shhh," she said again, rocking the warrior in her lap. "Talk to me."
But Kira couldn't talk. She was trying so hard not to cry aloud she didn't realize that the pain was rolling off her in waves that anyone with the slightest sensitivity to such things would be able to sense them as easily as shrieking or screaming.
"Talk to me Kira," Ayla insisted. "I know you can hear me."
Kira opened her eyes and for a moment Ayla wished she hadn't. There was a hollowness in Kira's gaze, her pupils portals to a void beyond imagination. She'd touched something in the soldier, opened a door that had been shut firmly for very good reason.
"Why?" One word came out of Kira's mouth. One word that bled all over everything. "Why do you want to hurt me so badly?"
"I don't want to hurt you...I just want you to do as I say."
"Why should I do as you say?"
It was a good question, and one that did not have a good answer. "Because I want you to," Ayla said simply.
Those dark, hurt eyes looked up at her as the soldier laid curled in her arms. "You think me an Imperial dominator, you think me an enforcer of tyranny. But I have never stopped anyone from living free. I gave my sword arm to protect those who cannot protect themselves. I have fought for these lands for five long years, never shying from battle, never caring for my own life. Can you say the same, witch?"
Ayla shook her head and dabbed away Kira's tears with the corner of a white handkerchief. "I cannot."
"By what right then, do you consider yourself free to command me?"
"By the oldest law there is," Ayla said, hoping a base argument would appeal to Kira's instincts. "I am more powerful than you. I will always be more powerful than you. As long as you live I will be stronger and able to enforce my rule. You understand that, don't you?"
~~~
Kira squirmed where she laid, Ayla's arms strong and secure around her. The witch's words had been very un-witchy, very domineering. They made sense in a world where little else made sense. Kira was used to obeying those in authority. Following orders came as naturally to her as breathing air. She hadn't seen Ayla as a superior before, but after being held down and thrashed, well...
"Do you understand me, little soldier?" Ayla's touch was gentle as she brushed loose hair away from Kira's face.
"I don't understand anything about you," Kira said, growing calm as the witch held her gaze. Her bottom throbbed and pulsed and her loins were suffused with heat. She was hurt, she was sore, she was sad and she was... hornier than she'd ever been before. It was a surprising distraction that only grew the longer she was in contact with Ayla's curves.
Ayla smiled briefly. "I told you that you would not like what I am to a badly behaved soldier who should know better."
"You're just another beast in the woods," Kira said, squirming about simply to feel how easily Ayla held her. The witch really was strong and though Kira's bottom stung and ached where it made contact with Ayla's thighs, the pain wasn't necessarily a bad pain, it was something that stoked the fires of a desire she tried to push away.
"Beast?" Ayla's laugh was light. "You think what I did to you was bestial? A little spanking?"
"I can feel your claws much deeper than that," Kira said, abandoning her usual facade of strength at any cost. What point was there pretending to be immune to the witch's touch? "You hurt me."
"Those pains were not caused by me," Ayla replied, pressing a gentle kiss to Kira's brow. "Though I no doubt bought them forth. I was not as careful as I should have been, you are a delicate little creature."
"I am not delicate," Kira snorted.
"But you are," Ayla said, letting her fingertips trace down Kira's bare hip. Her britches were still at half mast, her bottom exposed to cooling air. "You are a fragile little flower."
"Stop it," Kira growled. "Stop saying those things."
"I will not," Ayla said. "I smack your bottom and your crystal feelings begin to shatter."
Kira growled under her breath. How the hell did Ayla know that? She'd barely made a sound throughout the whole undignified affair. It was as if the witch could read her mind. "I am not weak," she said, determined to prove her strength all over again.
"Shhh... settle down before you get into more trouble," Ayla said, letting her fingertips drift lightly across the lower parts of Kira's tummy, preciously close to the dark sleek hair that flowed down to her most secret places. The intimate touch made Kira draw her breath in with a little gasp as a wicked heat began to swirl between her thighs. It spiraled up her spine, making her react in a long, slow shiver. In the past that heat had meant but one thing, that someone was about to end up legs splayed under the soldier, screaming her name with lustful gratitude. On this occasion however, that outcome seemed - unlikely.
Kira squirmed out of Ayla's embrace, but did not move too far away. She curled up on her side, one arm under her head as she pressed her legs firmly together to try and squash the heat. From that more independent position she looked up at Ayla, who sat propped up against the head of the bed.
The witch seemed to be unaware of the effect she was having, for she simply laced her long fingers over her lower belly and smiled pleasantly at Kira. "A copper coin for your thoughts."
Kira's dark brow rose slowly as her lips spread into a little smirk. "You don't want to know my thoughts, witch," she said, reaching back to tug her britches up. She was arrested by a light tap on her wrist.
"Leave them down," Ayla said.
"Excuse me?" Kira felt her blush rush over her face like an invading horde.
Green eyes sparkled at her. "I said, leave them down."
Kira glanced down at herself, saw the way the bare plane of her lower abdomen transformed itself into a dark little 'V' dipping between tightly clenched thighs, and on the other side, the curve of her hip and buttock rounding towards the cover of her pants. The usually pale skin was splotched red and pink, reminding her abruptly of how she had been held down over the kitchen table and slapped. It was enough to make her stomach swirl with nerves.
Her fingertips lingered near the waist of her pants. She so longed to pull them up, to be covered and safe from that knowing gaze. To disobey Ayla was surely to invite further punishment. And yet... and yet... this was further punishment, lying there half naked as if it were entirely natural to simply socialize with one's spanked bottom bare and visible to the one who had spanked it.
Kira was being humbled and she did not like it, not one bit. There was perhaps a part of her growing slick and excited, but that part of her had always had dubious judgment as far as she was concerned.
"So..." she said, trying to think of something to say that might tip Ayla off balance, that might restore the scales of power to a position she could be comfortable with. "You're really very old aren't you. A bit old to be spying on young women with their pants down, don't you think?"
It was rather below the belt as it were, but Kira was running out of options where Ayla was concerned and most women she knew were sensitive about their age.
The witch raised one finely shaped brow. "Baseless accusations of spying aside," she said, reaching out to trail a fingertip along Kira's exposed thigh. "Are you one of these young people laboring under the impression that sex is something people grow out of?"
Kira felt her loins clench with new arousal. Her little gambit had failed, but she wasn't sure she cared as Ayla's touch sent silken sensation spreading through her body. "I have some news for you, little soldier," Ayla said with an intimate look. "A lover who knows how to do something besides rut up against walls in
crowded taverns is the product of that age you fear. You'll discover that for yourself if you live long enough..." Ayla drew her hand away from Kira's thigh, ending the intimate contact. "If you want to cover yourself you can go downstairs and clean up that mess you made."
"Tease," Kira accused with narrowed eyes.
"Tease? You don't deserve much in the way of pleasure, little soldier." Ayla gave her a dry look. "Though if you ask nicely I might consent to show you what you're missing out on."
Squirming on the bed, Kira made a frustrated whimper. She wanted so badly to be touched, but asking for pleasure was too subordinate an act for her liking. She could feel the small reservoir of moisture between her lower lips growing with each passing moment, an inconvenient arousal.
"What is it to be?" Ayla asked the question with an arch smile.
Unable to make the reply she desperately wanted to make, Kira hid her face in the coverlet and groaned. Her bottom was still bare and she could feel a slight breeze across her hot cheeks. This was the worst of all that had befallen her. Now her own body was betraying her desire for control. She made more muffled noises of frustration into the bed, wishing Ayla would just take pity on her.
But Ayla was not in the mood for taking pity, and there were no more gentle caresses, only a firm slap as the witch laid her palm across Kira's bare buttock.
"Off you go," Ayla said. "Go and clean up your mess."
Kira stood and squirmed about as she pulled her pants up over her sore bottom. The tight leather made her reddened skin burn all the more and every step was a stinging reminder of just how easily she had been bested. Once downstairs, she picked up the broom that had been used on her hide and began sweeping up the broken bits of chair. Her obedience was short lived. As her arousal faded and the heat in her backside died down, Kira looked at the broom in her hands and wondered what the hell she was doing.
It was with slow, creeping horror that she realized she was becoming precisely what Ariadne and Ayla wanted her to be. "No," she said, casting the broom down. "Imperials will never be slaves." It was the sort of statement that should have been declared at the top of her lungs, but she whispered it so Ayla would not hear. She was equally quiet as she tiptoed out of the cottage.
The village was cooling quickly as the sun slipped behind the mountains. From a vantage point near the edge of the cliff, Kira watched as the sun slid away from the low lands of Lesbia. A powerful tugging impulse compelled her towards the brink. There had to be a way down. If she was strong enough, if she was brave enough, maybe she could find finger and toe holds. Drawing in a deep breath, Kira crawled to the edge, turned herself around and slowly lowered her body, scraping the toes of her boots against the rock face. It was sheer, but on closer, more desperate examination there were indentations and little outcrops here and there. She was glad for the increasing darkness, it made it harder to see the drop she knew awaited her if she made a mistake. Slowly, painstakingly, she used every ounce of her strength and determination to climb down the great rock face, spurred on by the same powerful impulse that drives a rat to gnaw its way out of a wicker basket, or a goat to leap out of its pen.
Chapter Fifteen
Silence reigned in the winter retreat. Ayla and Kira had not moved in a good half hour. They seemed to be frozen in time, just staring at one another. The warrior sat with arms folded over her chest. Ayla was calm and composed by the edge of the fire, her enchanting green gaze enhanced by flickering flames.
"What are they doing?" Atrocious whispered, sitting up on her bed of furs.
"I don't know," Rogette replied in hushed tones. She wandered across the room and picked up Ayla's herb bag. "I've always wanted to know what she kept in here," she said, poking her hand in and shuffling the contents around.
Atrocious cast a nervous eye at Ayla. The witch didn't appear to be registering events in the little hut, she was far away somewhere with Kira, perhaps in some other realm, perhaps in a staring competition to end all staring competitions.
"Aha!" Rogette pulled out a thick weedy looking purple herb covered in little orange hairs. "Paydirt!"
"Paydirt?"
"Just go with it," Rogette said, beaming broadly. "Do you know what this is?"
"A plant of some kind obviously," Atrocious said, having no idea what it was.
"This is Banisteria," Rogette said. "You can put it in a pipe and smoke it."
"Well I could put anything in a pipe and smoke it, including old socks, what's your point?" Atrocious pointed out with pragmatic obliviosity.
"It gives you visions," Rogette explained patiently. "And it makes you happy."
Atrocious shuddered a little. "I don't think I want any visions."
"Pussy," Rogette said dismissively, going through Ayla's robe until she found a wooden pipe.
Atrocious watched nervously as Rogette packed the pipe with little shredded bits of the herb. She could sense the trouble they were about to be in, but there was nothing she could do to stop it.
"Are you sure you don't want any?" Rogette clamped the pipe between her teeth and lit a twig, bringing it toward the bowl.
"Very sure," Atrocious said. "My mind is unstable enough as it is."
"Lucky you.” Rogette brought the flame to the bowl and sucked so that the flames were drawn down to the herb where they burned the delicate little filaments. A sweet, floral scent filled the air as Rogette took a deep lungful, held it for a long moment, then released it in a stream of purple smoke.
"Pretty," Atrocious said, watching with wonder. She would never have smoked some random herb found in a witch's purse, but Rogette seemed to lack whatever element it was that made a woman cautious.
"Hehe," Rogette murmured, her pretty eyes half closing as she sat back and gazed into the fire. "This is good stuff."
Atrocious waited for something interesting to happen, but for the most part Rogette simply giggled to herself and made off handed comments that did not contain a lick of sense.
"I think," Rogette said at length. "That we ought to make something of ourselves, you know?"
"Such as?"
"Well Ayla is a witch and Kira is a famous warrior and one day I will be one too..."
"No you won't." Atrocious interrupted bluntly.
"What?" Rogette scowled. "I will too be one!"
"Do you even know what warriors do?" Atrocious looked at her dourly. "They kill people, Rogette, lots of people. You're not going to be a warrior, you're going to be Kira's little sword polisher."
Rogette scowled at her. "Why do you have to be such a bitch?"
"I'm just being realistic," Atrocious said.
"When I want realism I'll ask someone who doesn't manifest a horde of screaming elves every time life gets a little hard," Rogette sniped.
"At least I have some sort of skill."
"Skill?" Rogette laughed bitterly. "Liability more like it. You have to have two minders following you around at all times just to make sure you don't trip and kill yourself."
"Yeah?" Atrocious' eyes narrowed. "Well at least they want me. You're just some stray we picked up."
Rogette coughed halfway through another puff of herb, expelling most of the smoke in a great cloud that floated across to Atrocious, who breathed it in without a second thought. At first there was no noticeable effect. It smelled nice and she perhaps felt a little fuzzy. It wasn't until Rogette deliberately blew a steady stream of the stuff directly into her face that Atrocious began to feel warmer and fuzzier and, yes, happier too.
"I'm sorry I'm being such a bitch," she said, laying out on the fur bed. "I'm just jealous. You're sexy as hell. Tropical sexy. Hot. Yeah. So hot." She grinned goofily at Rogette who was nodding along with a similar expression.
"I am pretty attractive," Rogette agreed. "You're passable yourself, you know."
Atrocious pushed her top up and looked at her bare torso, including the smooth soft curves perched proudly atop her chest. She ran her hands over them, marveling at the way her pink nipples stood to attenti
on with the slightest touch. "I have breasts," she giggled. "I could feed something with these."
Rogette and Atrocious lolled about for a time, giggling at themselves and at one another as the purple smoke curled throughout the room, filling it with a light haze. Little by little their clothes came off and were strewn about, tossed hither and thither with reckless abandon. Ayla and Kira had still not returned from whatever mental plane they were vacationing on and so the younger members of the party were free to poke at the fire and play with what they found in Ayla's bags.
Later on, neither of them would remember who decided to start throwing things into the flames. They could agree that somebody threw a little brown powder in, which sparked and puffed and made them laugh high pitched giggles. It was Atrocious who picked the pink granules up and tossed them into the very heart of the fire. At first nothing happened, which was disappointing. Rogette and Ayla were busily going through Ayla's robes when the reaction took hold in a rushing cascade of fire that leaped from the fire pit and shot up to the thatch roof of the hut, setting it ablaze.
There was much screaming then and two naked figures running out to toss snow at the flames. The handfuls of crystal water sizzled and sozzled in the blaze, but did nothing to put it out. Unfortunately the gales that had accompanied their journey to the mountains had chosen to die away and the snow was down to a light dust that evaporated before it got anywhere near the burning roof.
"Save the witch!" Atrocious cried out. Rogette took up the cry and together they rushed inside, took hold of Ayla and began dragging her towards the door.
"She's heavy," Rogette grunted, going around to the back of the witch and pushing with all her might. The muscles in her bottom and thighs went all taut and tense with the effort, but nothing much was gained from it.
Things might have ended very badly indeed if Ayla and Kira had not come out of their trance in time to see two naked young ladies flailing about and gibbering frantically. There was no time to ask questions, only enough to grab their things and rush out of the hut before the burning roof caved in entirely in a mass of black smoke and flames.