He looked like a bigger, meaner version of the Iron Brigade soldiers.
"Welcome to Nick's Naughty Nymphs brothel, old friend."
His voice was deep and commanding, and called to something base and primal. She couldn't breathe for a long moment. Then realization struck.
"A brothel? You own a brothel?" she said, looking around again with big eyes. "You're a pimp?"
"I know. I'm thrilled for me, too," he said. "So much more fun than chopping wood."
Men and women angrily shouted and screamed out in the street. Dorothy remembered her situation, so eased the door closed and backed away from it. The big pimp stood and walked over to a green velvet draped window.
"Mmm, looks like someone's been naughty," he said. Turning to the room, his eyes narrowing, "If asked, no one's seen anything or anyone. We've just been enjoying a good time with some beautiful women."
The men and women all nodded. In truth, her sudden entrance barely got anyone's attention. They all had much naughtier thoughts on their dirty minds.
Tin Woodman seized her arm and quickly moved Dorothy deeper into the brothel.
"You do know how to stir up trouble, Dorothy."
"I tried to kill Scarecrow."
"Well now, that's interesting. And not in a good way."
"Are you going to give me to them, Tin Woodman?"
"Hell no. I'm going to hide you in a room. My personal bedroom, I might add," he said, wagging his brows. "And no one calls me 'Tin Woodman' anymore. I'm Nick Chopper. Call me Nick."
They passed through an ornate silver door, beautifully worked with an orgy scene. She shook her head. Apparently, the once virtuous Nick Chopper had turned into a dirty old man and reveled in his debauchery.
"This is where you live?"
"Beautiful, isn’t it?" he said. "I designed it myself."
Unlike the mostly green in the main parlor, his small apartment was garishly appointed in all silver and white, with just a few bright red decorations scattered about. She thought the sitting room was bad, but his bedroom proved worse. All she could do was gawk with her mouth open.
"I never…"
"As you've so famously said, there's no place like home," he replied, glowing with pride.
Someone started pounding on the front door. "Open up in the name of King Scarecrow!"
"What are we going to do?" she asked.
"You have to blend in so they don't recognize you," he said. "Strip out of those clothes."
Dorothy objected, but he explained her outfit was too distinctive. The Iron Brigade soldiers would be looking for a dark-haired woman in those clothes. She couldn't argue that point, so started stripping. She set her weapons on a table, then pulled off her top as she heard someone open the front door and soldiers stomped inside. Their steel feet thundered on the hardwood floors.
After wiggling out of her short-shorts, and dropping them atop of the pile of her weapons and clothes, Dorothy looked expectantly to Nick.
"What do you have for me to wear?"
"Nothing," he said, picked up everything she owned save the silver stilettos on her feet, and dumped it all into a large trunk. He snapped a padlock on it, before throwing a white cloth with red decorations over it. "Put your hair up in pigtails."
"But..."
She wanted to explain that she'd had them up in pigtails most of the time since returning. But she realized the Iron Brigade had never seen her in pigtails, so maybe not such a bad idea.
"Quickly!"
She did as ordered. Moving to a small mirror on the wall, she tired her long brown hair up in bouncy pigtails above her ears with long pink ribbons. She'd always had them toward the back of her head growing up. For some reason, she wanted the sexier pigtails. Again, she worried the entire world of Oz was cursed to make everyone think about sex and things sexy.
"If asked, your name is Uma," he said. Nick tapped her chin, and she obediently lifted it high. He quickly locked a shiny silver collar around her neck. Hot and cold flowed from it and into her body. Her libido became super-charged. For a second, her mind felt muted like it was wrapped in cotton. "It's a popular name for prostitutes and strippers in Emerald City."
Her eyes dropped to his still erect cock. She licked dry lips, while an unstoppable urge to wrap her hand around his shaft consumed her. Dorothy's sex got hot and slick, and began to throb with achy need. Even her mouth watered as she thought about going down on him, longing to taste his seed.
Did Nick have seed? Could he procreate? She remembered Nick Chopper was once a normal man. Emperor of the Munchkins, in fact. The Wicked Witch of the East enchanted him, or his ax, or something. It was so hard to think with that enchanted collar around her throat, but the Wicked Witch used magic to make him keep chopping off his own body parts, and then she replaced them with tin substitutes. The Witch then took over Munchkin Country, leaving him out in the woods as the Tin Woodsman.
"What have you done to me?" she whispered breathlessly.
She fought the urge to touch herself. Her body needed so badly. Just a little rub on her special spot. Wouldn't take long to…
"No!" she said, jerking her hand back.
"Shhh," he said. His left hand rose up to fondle her, while the right palmed the back of her head. Dorothy felt a thrill as she offered her lips. And he kissed her, long and hard. "Let's make this look real now."
Her old friend fast-walked Dorothy to the bed. He forced her to lie in the middle, and then he climbed on top of her as soldiers pounded on his door. Dorothy spread her legs wide without prompting and bit her lip as she watched that cock move closer and closer, and finally press against her tingling folds. The apartment door opened a second later and Iron Brigade soldiers poured in.
Nick thrust into Dorothy.
"Uggh!"
Dorothy forgot all about King Scarecrow and his brutal Iron Brigade. Nick's cock was the longest, thickest, hardest she'd ever known. Half of his length was inside her with that first thrust, and yet she felt completely filled up. He stretched her out beyond the point of pain. And then he pulled all the way out, just to plow back into her even deeper.
"Uggh!"
"Who's your pimp?" he demanded.
Dorothy gawked up incredulously. His eyes captured hers, refusing to release them. Her body trembled, so hot and needy. He seized her wrists, pressing them into the mattress above her head. She felt so vulnerable, helpless, so weak and sexy.
Nick continued to thrust into her hard and fast. She felt every long inch of him sliding in and out of her body. So long and thick. Her vagina clamped down around him, but that didn't slow him down or impede him in any way. He was too big and powerful. He was her pimp.
"Y-You… Uggh… You're my pimp," she gasped out, body singing.
"General Chopper?" one Iron Brigade soldier called, sounding very respectful. "Sir, have you seen Dorothy of Kansas?"
The steel-sheathed pimp stopped thrusting. His cock rested balls deep inside Dorothy, who continued to buck and writhe under him. Even just impaled on his rod was beyond anything she ever experienced. He slanted a quizzical look back at the soldiers.
"Dorothy has returned? As in Dorothy Gale of Kansas? Are you serious?"
"Yes, sir. She just tried to assassinate King Scarecrow."
"Really? That doesn't sound like her," he said. "Still, I'd appreciate it if you brought her by here for me to see. If you catch her."
"We'll catch her, sir."
"You don't know Dorothy of Kansas like I do," he said. "She's got a knack for getting into, and then out of sticky situations." He grinned down at her, thrust three more times, and then turned back to the waiting soldiers. "Carry on! I have work to do putting this uppity girl back in her proper place."
The Iron Brigade soldiers glanced at Dorothy. For a second she thought they recognized her. But they just saluted and marched out. She stared at the open door long after they had gone.
"You did it," she whispered.
"I'm good," he said, and started thrusting a
gain.
She couldn't believe how wonderful it felt. She moaned and groaned, bucking and writhing under him. Soon her hips began thrusting up, desperate to get him deeper and deeper inside her. Nothing mattered but increasing her pleasure.
"Ooooooh," she groaned. "Please. I can't… Uggh! I can't take much more."
"I know. After I’m finished taming and claiming you, I'll have the supreme honor of having Dorothy of Kansas working in my brothel. Just don't forget your new name is Uma."
Dorothy's eyes rolled up, and her back bowed high. Her insides were a hot mess. That monster cock continued to thrust into her like a machine. Tireless. Ruthless. Insatiable. She kicked and squirmed, bucked and writhed. Her pimp was driving her crazy.
"Yes," she gasped out. "Oh yes. Yes."
"When you come, the collar's magic will seal your fate, Dorothy," Nick growled, plowing into her like a madman. They were about to peak at the same time. "I own you!"
"Yes!" she cried, and her body erupted with insane waves of euphoria. Hot and cold flowed through her overheated, oversexed body. Dorothy felt the last vestiges of her resistance crumble away. "I am yours!"
Chapter 26
"I can't believe that goodie-two-shoe bitch tried to kill me. ME!"
King Scarecrow stomped up onto the dais and stopped before the Emerald Throne, back in his throne room deep inside the safety of the palace. A dozen Iron Brigade and Palace Guard officers awaited his orders.
He scowled at them. How did Dorothy escape with so many of the Empire's finest soldiers against her? Then he noticed one of the guard officers look him up and down, and realized he was still a torn up, disheveled mess.
All of his wounds, which he didn't feel at all, just reminded him of his many failed attempts to make himself fully human. The body moved and performed to perfection, but was still animated cloth covered straw.
The Wizard lifted his foot-long blood-red ruby wand to draw a rune in the air, before tapping himself in the forehead. There was a soft pop, a red flash, and he was back looking pristine. He noticed the stress among his officers faded away.
"Captain Chroman, notify me the instant she's captured," King Scarecrow said, eyes blazing red fire. The steel-plated Iron Brigade officer snapped to attention. "I want her dragged before me in chains. Right here in front of everyone. I want my victory over Dorothy of Kansas to be well-witnessed!"
The Iron Brigade officers all radiated pleasure from their featureless metal faces. Like himself, Nick's creations were one of the few sentient races to resist the spell that transformed all of the others into humans, though they did have flesh and blood bodies within their iron shells. He felt a special bond with them, and them to him. Nick was not happy when he lost the ultimate loyalty of his Iron Brigade.
"The entire Empire will dance in the streets when they hear you defeated and destroyed Dorothy, your Majesty," Captain Chroman said. "The people will proclaim you a hero."
"Well, I am the Champion of the People," King Scarecrow said, with a smirk and shrug. "I will be in my conjuring room looking for her, too."
He dismissed the Iron Brigade and Palace Guard officers and took a secret passage behind his throne, behind the bright emerald green tapestries. The way was dark and dirty, twisting and turning through the very walls of the palace. The passages were originally for staff to move about the palace without being seen. He claimed them as his own as soon as he learned of their existence. Magic erased everyone's memory of them.
While Glinda claimed the highest chamber in the highest tower as her conjuring room, Scarecrow didn't like anything so obvious. His conjuring room was in the palace basement, and in the second level below ground. He found the chamber comfortingly dark and cool, circular in shape, and domed. Originally, it was a wine cellar.
Blood red symbols and runes on the walls and ceiling began to glow and writhe when the Wizard entered. He went to kneel before a glowing red pentacle permanently etched into the stone floor. He worked his wand, feeling the magic flowing through it and him. He did a methodical search of the city for Dorothy, but found nothing.
"Those damned Silver Shoes are hiding her," he grumbled.
Glinda warned him about them. Since Dorothy possessed the powerful talisman, he hadn't worried. For one, she took them to another realm of existence. Two, she was basically a very nice girl, so wouldn't use them for evil. Three, the shoes were bound to her and none of his enemies could take them away from her.
"Only she's not so nice anymore," he said. "I should've known life would've changed her. It changes us all. Now she's become a problem."
Where was Glinda? It was her job to hunt down and capture the little bitch. So far, the usually reliable Witch was thwarted by Dorothy and her Silver Shoes. Last he heard, Glinda was waiting in ambush of Dorothy in Kiamo Ko.
"I bet Wanda interfered," he muttered, scowling towards the west.
He opened a hand, palm up. A green bubble appeared. "To Glinda."
With his wand, Scarecrow gave the bubble more urgency, more speed. It would find Glinda super fast and deliver his message. Even if she happened to be in the farthest corner of the Empire, it would take less than an hour to reach her. Urgent message bubbles were a lot harder to intercept, too. But before he could give it a message to deliver, another bubble passed through the thick stone walls and entered his conjuring room. Only Glinda and a Cardinal Witch had the power to penetrate his wards like that.
A scowl spread across his face when he noticed the message bubble was yellow.
"Wanda," he snarled. Holding out his other hand, he received the message. It burst with Wanda's voice, "Mirror me."
He sent his message bubble across the room to await his pleasure. Turning to a full-length mirror against the wall, King Scarecrow tapped it three times with his wand, saying, "Wanda of the West" before each tap. The mirror reflected swirling mists for a few seconds, before the image of the Wicked Witch of the West appeared.
"Hello, King Scarecrow," Wanda purred, looking so self-satisfied.
His eyes widened. He'd never seen her naked before. All Wanda wore were black thigh boots and black over-the-elbow gloves. And her Witch's Hat. What he found more astonishing was Glinda, bent over a thick wooden bar, naked body shiny with sweat, while huffing and puffing furiously. Glinda looked beside herself in outrage and humiliation. He'd never seen her face so red.
"Kinky," Scarecrow said, very careful not to show any concern.
Wanda had Glinda bound hand and foot. Besides being bent over that bar naked, her ankles were chained to the floor. The former Good Witch's wrists were each bound to the opposite arm's elbows, which looked quite uncomfortable. And then Wanda finished off her bondage scene with a silver collar and chain, keeping Glinda bent over and helpless by chaining her throat to the floor as well.
Glinda's spectacular body was crisscrossed with angry red welts, which explained the riding crop in Wanda's hand. If he had a heart, it would be thundering. To all appearances, it looked like Wanda was announcing her declaration of civil war.
I'm not ready for this, he thought. What did you do, Glinda?
Wanda had been spoiling for a fight for the last two decades. She was constantly trying to get Jezebelle, and even the two Good Witches, to join her in a war against him. So far everyone had been too afraid of him and Glinda together. Take Glinda out of the picture, and the other Cardinal Witches might very well join Wanda in revolt.
"Glinda had a little accident," Wanda said. She extended her left hand. He saw four small white pieces of ivory. Her wand was destroyed? "How embarrassing is that, right? Poor thing has been inconsolable, but I've done my best."
"Are you all right, Glinda?" he asked.
"I've been better," she gasped out.
Wanda whirled on Glinda, and the riding crop came down across the Witch's firm round buttocks. Thwack! Thwack! Scarecrow watched her fleshy rump jiggle as two new welts rose up.
"I did not give you permission to speak," Wanda snarled. Thwack! Across her lower bac
k. Thwack! Across her shoulders. "Don't speak without permission."
Glinda looked incredulous, but kept her mouth shut. Scarecrow could only image the rage built up inside that proud Witch. She was going to explode the second she got free.
"If you know what's good for you," Scarecrow said in a measured tone. "You'll release her immediately."
"Oh, I know what's good for me," Wanda said, smirking. She pulled Glinda's head up by her tousled hair. The former Good Witch grimaced. "And Glinda is very good. But you'd know that better than any of us, wouldn't you?"
The Wicked Witch handed the riding crop to someone he couldn't see past the edge of the mirror. That person handed Wanda a long, curved knife. She continued to hold Glinda's head up by her hair as she placed the knife's razor edge to the Witch's throat.
"She is bound with talismans stripping her of magic, so poor little Glinda will die if I cut her pretty little throat," Wanda said. Her eyes narrowed at Scarecrow. "And I'll happily kill her if you don't agree to my demands."
King Scarecrow suppressed a cringe. He knew she'd want something. Glinda was too important to him to lose, but there were limits to what he'd do to save her. Did Wanda understand that?
"Your demands?"
She smiled and relaxed, but kept the knife to Glinda's throat.
"You have to grant me certain concessions if you want your pet Witch back," Wanda said. "First and foremost, from this moment on my word is law in the West. You will remove all Royal garrisons by the end of the month, and you will name me First Witch."
Those were not insignificant concessions. She wanted full autonomy. If he granted it, then the other Witches would start scheming to gain autonomy, too. Without the Royal Army inside Winkie Country, he had no effective means to enforce his authority. It was Wanda's first step toward shrugging off the Royal yoke. Yet, losing Glinda would still be a more devastating blow to his power.
With Glinda, as First Witch of the powerful Witch's Council, he was as powerful as any three Cardinal Witches. But Wanda wanted to rule the Empire's magic users as First Witch, which would make her second only to him in raw magical power. Just being First Witch increased that Witch's magic power.
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