Ch. 02 - Mind Games

"Kave."

The purple haired mage crumpled to the ground.

***

Aster awoke from a strangely frightening dream, her vision cloudy and her muscles sore. The sleeping world was bleeding into the waking, leaving her slightly unsure about what was real and what wasn't. With a groan, she turned to roll herself out of bed only to find that her arms were stuck in place.

Was she still dreaming?

Shaking the fog from her head, she glanced downwards at her left hand. It looked completely normal. Again, she tried to roll herself over, and again she was held down. This time, she could feel a slight discomfort humming in her right wrist. Turning her attention to the source, she saw a thick leather strap drawn across her wrist.

She blinked once in confusion. Then again. She looked at her left hand, noticing there was a strap there, too. Had she put them on?

She yanked weakly on both straps, the sound of jingling metal filling the air.

"Oh, my."

A voice - a woman's voice - cut through the air and froze Aster in place. She glanced far beyond her own body to a blurry shape across the room, currently moving in her direction.

"I was warned about your resilience, and yet you've still exceeded my expectations, Aster."

That voice sounded familiar. Sweet and smooth, like rich chocolate. It calmed Aster's beating heart and soothed her aching muscles. Its source moved closer with every step, growing more and more defined in Aster's vision.

"That spell should have kept you asleep well past moonrise. But it's of no concern, I was about to wake you anyways."

A pair of startling green eyes came into focus and panic gripped Aster's heart like a searing iron.

It hadn't been a dream.

Immediately and as hard as she could, the mage began fighting against her restraints, quickly finding that as hard as she could wasn't very hard. Her muscles ached - almost stung - with every movement, rendering her unable to do much more than rustle her straps back and forth.

The entire room was in focus now. It wasn't the same one as before, although it looked remarkably similar in structure - a sprawling wooden box. But where the other room was filled with nothing but storage, this one was filled with restraints. A cage in one corner. Leashes and cuffs hanging off the wall. Various bits of metal nailed into the wood, from which ropes could be fastened. And in the center, atop which Aster was currently trapped, an examination chair.

"Wh-What's h-h-happening. Wh-Wh-Why are you...wh-wh-"

"Calm down. Were almost ready to begin."

The towering figure of Isobel stared emotionless at her patient, the faintest hint of her earlier smile nonexistent. It was the look scientists reserved for lab specimens. Clinical.

Aster fought harder against her restraints as fear devoured any lingering fog in her perception. This was the fear she felt as she ran through Caroline's nest. The fear of imminent death.

As Isobel returned to the countertop from which she came, Aster became suddenly and horrifyingly aware of her own body. She had been stripped naked. Her legs were elevated and restrained in stirrups. Her crotch was bare.

Dread, ice cold and nauseating, crumpled Aster's stomach into a little ball. Memories of Caroline consumed her thoughts. She flailed wildly in her seat, calling to a staff that was nowhere to be found.

"...oh g-gods...n-no...no please d-d-don't...please don't h-hurt me..."

the

Aster wasn't meant to be a mage. That much was obvious to her now.

It should have been obvious after her encounter with Caroline. The ease with which she was captured. The willingness with which she gave up. It was all so pathetic.

Mages were supposed to be strong. Demeter was strong. Lady Liandra was strong. Aster wasn't strong.

She was weak. And stupid. And she should never have left the farm.

She would give anything to be back on that farm right now. Disregarded by her father and laughed at by her brothers, at least she'd be safe. Living a life of regret until she died, at least she could escape the dangers of the world. All the pain and scars and terrifying, soul crushing fear.

A life of regret was all somebody as worthless as her deserved to live.

Aster wasn't fighting anymore. She was just crying. Tears streaming down her cheeks as her chest heaved and she fought to speak.

"...p-p-please...I'll d-do anything...p-please just l-let me go..."

Isobel strolled back over, her pace controlled and her expression unchanged. The clinical disinterest on her face was truly terrifying.

"Aster, please understand that I don't do this for my own pleasure. I've simply been paid to do a job, and I intend to do it well. The less you resist, the quicker it will go and the sooner I can let you go."

Aster let out a terrified wail, thrashing and sobbing as Isobel's slender fingers slipped through her lustrous purple hair and settled on her scalp. Individually and all together, those five black fingernails began to explore the shape of Aster's skull, appearing to search for just the right spot before settling firm against her skin.

"N-No please! Please! Pluuuhhh..."

Aster's entire body went limp as Isobel's fingers slipped through her skull and situated themselves right on her squishy pink brain. Her legs fell open and her shoulders slumped and her big, purple eyes - still filled with tears - drifted apart. Her head would have tipped over if not held up by Isobel's grip.

Her brain - that soft grey matter - was horrifically sensitive, not unlike the inside of an open wound. Every single movement of Isobel's fingers - every twitch or flutter or rub - sent a violent and cascading shiver down Aster's spine. One that spread throughout her entire body and settled warm and deep inside her bones, melting them into useless puddles.

It felt hauntingly incredible.

But that wasn't the reason her body fell limp and her pleading stopped. As entertaining as such a thought was, the real reason was because Isobel had severed the connection between her patient's brain and body, rendering her effectively paralyzed.

But Aster's thoughts and perceptions remained - loudest of all her fear. Fear that grew deadlier with every movement she was denied. Every command unanswered. She told her body to scream and fight and run, but it did nothing anymore. It could only breathe and cry - her fear wailing silently and unexpressed.

And then Aster could move again. She had trouble remembering how, at first, but she could feel her limbs responding to her direction. The twitching of a finger or the rolling of a tongue.

She could move because Isobel's fingers had moved, sliding carefully along soft, slick folds of brain to find a new home.

Aster's thoughts.

With care and deliberation, Isobel caressed those thoughts into a gentle, mushy pulp - one that sloshed around in Aster's brain and made her slow. Mushy thoughts had trouble remembering things. Mushy thoughts couldn't be strung together into complex movements or understanding. Mushy thoughts perceived the world through its most immediate means.

No longer was it enough to know that fingers can't pass through bone. No longer was it enough to feel the faint pressure of fingertips still resting against her scalp. No longer was it enough to understand that magic could be felt.

No. Aster felt fingers inside her brain, which meant there must be fingers inside her brain. There was no other possible explanation. Fingers that were physically molding her flesh just as they were magically molding her very perception.

But in spite of her own dwindling awareness, Aster clung to her fear. Her need to escape. Dizzy and determined, she poured all her focus and energy into the movements of her arms as they pulled against the restraints.

And then Isobel's fingers moved again, eliciting another violent shudder as they found their third home.

And suddenly Aster wasn't afraid anymore.

Aster knew she was being held captive - knew Isobel meant to hurt her, or at the very least violate her - but she felt not a single hint of fear at the prospect. All she felt was what was left over. The pleasure of fingers in her head. The joy of a beautiful woman's presence. The excitement of what was to come.

"Aster, wiggle your toes."

The braindead mage did as she was told, not seeing any reason to disobey the pretty lady.

"Stop."

She stopped, then took a sudden gasp of air as she felt a finger slip between the folds of her brain to nestle itself inside - violating her deeper and more thoroughly than anybody else could ever hope to. That thought, slow and sludgy as it was, made Aster smile.

Dimly, she realized that her toes were wiggling all on their own, now. Why were they doing that?

"I'm afraid I wasn't entirely honest with you, Aster. See, while I certainly wouldn't consider myself a mage or a druid, I do practice sorcery. Quite thoroughly, in fact." Isobel took a moment to let her words sink in. "What I'm doing to you right now is called lacing, Aster. I've interrupted a key handful of your brain's processes, can you feel that?

Aster was having trouble moving her head with fingers stuffed inside, but Isobel could feel the mage's brain firing off signals in an attempt to nod, and that was sufficient.

"For this process to work best, I must first understand the intricacies of your brain. You're going to experience some strange sensations while I figure you out, but rest assured they're all completely normal. Do you understand?"

Mushy thoughts didn't like listening to words. Mushy thoughts liked staring at pretty pictures. And Isobel was the prettiest picture Aster had even seen.

She looked like the night sky. Flawless in her beauty. Distant and overwhelming in her power.

Indomitable. Undeniable. Everlasting.

"...unner...stand..." the mage smiled, hoping it would please the night sky.

The next several minutes were spent with Isobel's fingers exploring the contours and folds of Aster's brain, mapping her very existence as one might a piece of land. She made Aster laugh then cry then laugh again. Made her nod her head then point her toes then flap her arms like a chicken. Made her feel overwhelming loss then raging anger then blissful tranquility. Made her remember distant memories and forget others. Made her see stars and smell roses and feel frigid winter against her skin. Made her divulge secrets she'd promised to take to the grave.

And with every movement - every stroke against Aster's delicate lobes and every violent shiver sent coursing through her body and mind - the purple haired mage was decimated just a little further. Made a little dumber and a little softer. Made a little easier to mold.

"You're a very fascinating girl, Aster. I understand now why my client was willing to pay so handsomely for you."

Isobel made her patient recreate various animal noises as she spoke. A dog. A monkey. A pig.

"I was reluctant at first, given that you travel with Demeter Meridian, but quite frankly the sum I was offered was simply too great an opportunity to neglect."

At this point in the process, her words were spoken with the purpose of eliciting a response within Aster's brain - just to ensure nothing had broken. The more startling the words, the better the response.

"I've been following you since the deadmoon, Aster. Waiting for the precise moment to abduct you."

Aster's mushy brain lit up like a Christmas tree and Isobel quickly stirred it back to sleep, making the mage pant like a bitch then curl her toes then try to pull out of her restraints.

"This isn't my shop. This isn't even my city. I have you restrained in a trapper's basement right now while he takes a much-deserved nap in that cabinet over there."

With her free hand, Isobel pointed to a tall wooden cabinet in the corner of the room. Aster's eyes drifted slowly in its direction then abruptly crossed, then rolled up in her head, then momentarily lost their vision altogether.

"I'm going to design a special button in your butt, today, Aster."

Another sparkling of awareness in the mage's brain that was quickly snuffed out as Isobel made her recite the ABCs.

"Now, typically this process is rather quick. But given Demeter's magical sensitivity, I'm afraid I must be incredibly delicate and thorough. Please forgive the length of the procedure."

Procedure.

The simultaneous caress of five fingers all sliding out of Aster's brain at once proved too much for the poor mage, sending her into a fit of convulsions that rattled her restraints and filled the room with choked breath and gargling grunts.

Isobel paid her patient no mind, however, strolling leisurely back across the room to a wide countertop where several items lay. One by one she brought them over, placing them on a much smaller countertop just beside the examination chair. A small glass bottle. A wet rag. A strip of cloth. A collection of assorted wooden bowls.

It didn't take long for Aster's convulsions to stop and a semblance of understanding to return behind her dazed, purple eyes. Her thoughts were beginning to harden and one by one, she was putting them back in place - remembering a little bit more about who and where she was with every trip Isobel took.

Isobel. That name sounded familiar. Aster searched through the slog of her memories for an Isobel, finding it misshapen and loose, floating between the sensation of sleep and dazzling green.

Isobel was beautiful. Tall and firm and elegant. Striking eyes and flowing hair.

Isobel was helping Aster. Procuring mezcle. Opening her doors for a mage she'd never met before.

Leading her underground.

Putting her to sleep.

Trapping her.

As her memory finally snapped into place, so too did fear. Frigid and crushing. Aster's stomach turned and her skin tightened cold.

Isobel, who was returning with her final item, came to a halt halfway across the room and gazed upon her patient. Her eyes glimmered like stones.

"You're awake." She spoke her words calmly, but there was an imperceptible hint of intrigue - almost amazement - on her tongue.

At the sound of her captor's smooth, beautiful voice, Aster's attention snapped to the left. She fought as hard as she could against her restraints, finding her body still quite soft and useless. It took her another moment to remember how to speak.

"...p-please stop...I d-d-don't wanna do this anymore...I just w-wanna go home..." Tears were forming in Asters big purple eyes once more. "...p-please l-l-lemme go h-home..."

For the very first time since entering the basement, a smile shone through the clinical indifference on Isobel's face. Not a smile of sympathy or amusement, but a smile of rapt fascination.

"Aster Tol, you may be the single most curious individual I've ever encountered."

With those words, Isobel closed what little distance remained and set down her final item - a needle quill.

With calculated movements - and while Aster strained and sobbed in her chair - she collected the long strip of fabric and tied a knot in its center. Then, holding the rag in one hand, she used the other to retrieve the small glass bottle and began draining its liquid contents into the knot, careful not to spill any unnecessarily. By the time she was finished, she had emptied close to half the bottle and was holding in her hand what looked remarkably like a gag, with the knot soaked through.

Aster tried with all her might to escape but her body was simply too tired, leaving her with no other option than to clamp her mouth closed as tight as she could.

But the item in Isobel's hand was never intended to be a gag. Gently, she placed the knot against Aster's nose and held it firmly in place while the mage took a terrified breath. Whatever fluid was in that bottle smelled sickly sweet, like rotten fruit, and made Aster dizzy.

Recognizing the danger, Aster quickly began breathing through her mouth instead, sucking in air through clenched teeth. Isobel didn't like that. With her free hand, the raven-haired sorcerer covered Aster's mouth and pressed her firmly against the headrest of her seat, ensuring the mage couldn't shake her head from side to side.

And that's where Aster stayed, crammed against the headrest and turning purple until her body disobeyed her mind and took a heaving gasp all on its own - one that spun her head in circles. After a few more, the room was tilting back and forth in her vision, dragging her head along with it. And after enough breath to soak through her bloodstream entirely - far more than Isobel had even another endure - the mage began to squirm.

Her skin felt hot. And tight. And sensitive. As if every caress brought with it the memory of a thousand others.

Isobel dragged a single black fingernail across Aster's inner thigh and watched as the mage's stomach tightened and twitched.

Satisfied, she removed the hand pressed against Aster's mouth, pleased to see her patient continue taking breaths through her nose. Then, taking one in each hand, she tied the two ends together behind Aster's head, careful to avoid catching any pretty purple hair in the knot. She tied it tight enough to stay in place without making it terribly uncomfortable, adjusting the knot in front so it rested securely over both Aster's nostrils.

Then, just as before, she placed her slender fingertips on Aster's scalp and began to slide them around, finding just the right spot.

Aster, without the energy to fight back or cry for help, simply dissolved into her fear. She didn't want to be a mage anymore. She hated herself for being so weak. So gullible.

She hated the tiny part of herself that was excited to feel Isobel's fingers slide back inside her skull. The part of herself that still longed for the warmth of Caroline's embrace and the deadly sweetness of her kiss.

A mage wasn't supposed to have thoughts like that.

Aster just wanted to go back home. Live and die a simple, boring life. That's all she was good for.

"...pleashhh..." she slurred, tears trickling from her eyes. "...lemme g-ughhh..."

And just like that, Isobel's fingers rubbed away all Aster's fears, leaving the mage to float aimlessly in the warmth of their absence.

She was so glad to feel the shivers again. So lucky to experience the excruciating sensitivity of her most complex and important organ. So overjoyed to let her very self be toyed with and remolded by a woman as beautiful as Isobel.

While Aster's eyes drifted apart and drool trickled from her lip, Isobel retrieved the needle quill and, with the same delicacy she used to manipulate a brain, poked the mage's bare foot. She nodded with approval at her patient's reaction - a finch and a curling of the toes. Discomfort.

Turning her attention back to the brain, she began her work. Eyes closed, so as to let the sensations on her fingertips guide her movements - she traversed Aster's brain, rubbing certain spots and prodding at others. Sliding between folds and lobes. Delicately squishing the soft, pink flesh. She even slid her fingers deep inside, dancing across its depth and manipulating various glands and structures.

None of this she actually did, of course - her physical fingers stayed on Asters's scalp - but to the mage currently being violated and deconstructed, there was not a single doubt that what she felt was, in fact, reality.

The warmth of sunlight. The trickle of a cold stream. The caress of a blade.

Fingers in her brain.

Aster felt it all, and she knew it all to be true.

After several uninterrupted minutes of joyful twitching and shuddering, the process was complete. Laced throughout Aster's brain was an incredibly complex web of magic, every single thread placed with deliberation and delicacy. A masterpiece - if Isobel were to qualify it.

Moving slowly, the would-be druid retrieved her needle quill and, just as before, pressed its tip against Aster's foot. Unlike before, however, the mage didn't flinch and recoil in response. Instead, she sighed a soft, brainless moan. Isobel could feel the faint buzz of pleasure lapping at her fingertips.