Deal for a Damsel

Foreword: All subjected characters are at least 18. Any resemblance of fictional characters to real-life persons are purely coincidental and extremely regrettable.

Please do not confuse fantasy (or Literotica entries) with reality.

I sincerely apologize for any and all (of the many) factual inconsistencies that feature in my stories

Also my first time writing and publishing here. Work will be terrible. Constructive criticism and feedback greatly appreciated.

"By the Queen's Grace, I'm here."

It did not matter that he had muttered Her Majesty's name in vain. Whatever scruples he had of what his eyes beheld were dispelled more and more with every blink and every step, as he realized he had pushed through to salvation.

He completely fudged over every possible aspect of the journey. Miscalculating how long it would take (no one told him the city was so immense: it put even the Lord Astar's castle to right shame. Not to mention the arduous trek from the town itself!), forgetting Eyepatch's directions (was James really going to ask that knife-wielding knave for his own eyes to be carved out?), or making the plethora of panicked turns along the streets that forced him to backtrack and lose more time and precious energy - all in all, it was an utter miracle that he had barely kept his feet and his wits - let alone his life.

But he had made it.

Lights glimmered in the distance, illuminating the downtrodden edifices that modestly lined the street. it seemed as though the alley led right up to a better, more luxurious district - before it was cut off and unceremoniously declared a dead end by an uncompromising wall. This was the far end of the "worst of the worst," as Eyepatch had regaled him. The place that shielded the guilds from the slums, where no light shone except from the lamps behind the walls, and the place where James was supposed to go to, the part of the city furthest from his town and his allegations.

Thin, dim, ethereal - but unmistakable - was dim light, casting dancing shadows upon the street. These, and Eyepatch's promise that what James needed lay at the now uncryptic "divide," were the two things keeping him company under the lonely, moonless light.

Well, there were three things.

James let out a soft sigh and gently pushed his charge forward. "We're almost here," he murmured in half-apology, half-warning. "Just a little more"

The figure grudgingly stepped forward. Almost as tall as James (who was of an average height himself), the figure was clothed in a sheer fabric, so thin and frail as to be paper. James had not been able to procure any better, and winced whenever he could feel the bare warmth on his fingertips. He had everything to thank that the nights had not proven colder. Around the figure's dainty wrists was makeshift twine, and beneath the veil on the figure's face was a gag to muffle any sounds they would have thought to make.

Framed by the poor light at the very end of the alleyway was a trodden building whose shattered frame seemed it would cave in on itself at any given moment.

"Right there, at the divide. Can't miss it. Clear as day - clearer at night, too. Hope your eyes are a great deal keener than your ears... I wouldn't mind two eyes to meself, again."

James shivered at the memory of that gnarly voice.

The building largely resembled a small inn, with the bottom floor shockingly intact considering the otherwise decrepit nature of both the surroundings and the crumbling top. On a better day, James might have had some final misgivings about both the verity of Eyepatch's words and the stature of the location.

It was not that better day.

He went inside.

The thoughts and observations themselves did eventually strike him after he entered - but as was signature in his recent impulsive experiences, it was too late to turn back. As he finally managed to recollect himself and regain his bearings, a closer inspection satisfied his expectations of the location - or rather, lack thereof.

Despite its external appearance, the greeting room was astoundingly well-furnished - in fact, it was so ornately decorated, the inside might as well have been the greeting chamber for a noble. The richly-woven linens and pillows draped over the furniture were not only flamboyantly covered with intricate design, but somehow complemented each other article within the room so effortlessly, even muted by such dim lighting. Even the walls and floors themselves were handsomely treated, and the entire aesthetic was something that could be described as no less than pampered, if not utterly regal and grand in its splendor.

It occurred to James just how much in life he missed out on, even as a son of tavern keepers. Even as well-fed and privileged as he had been, this amount of wealth and decor was an experience that would be granted once and forever missed by one of his status, nevermore to be lived, even for a fleeting moment.

And there would only be more miss if his life was threaded short by the end of a noose.

In this light as well, the figure was thrown into relief. The thin clothing that the figure - a young lady - wore did little to disguise her lovely breasts and curves, even as the jostle of the journey did little to hamper the glow of her youth. Her pale skin glowed like the moon, and her burlap veil betrayed strands of her silky black hair. Clearly, James had done a poor job of tying her hair up.

Near the end of the room was another door. It was the light that crept from beneath it that provided the thin glow by which James was able to see.

Curiosity overcame whatever prudence James possessed. Almost entranced, he slowly approached the door, grabbing the woman by the shoulders, dimly becoming aware of some noises emanating behind the door. Was this the commotion of the party that would save him? He placed a hand on the polished knob, turned it, and leaned gently.

The door creaked, causing James to almost leap away in trepidation. Yet no one came to open it for James - or even confront him for his attempt to trespass.

"You may enter," called out a somewhat sharp, yet sonorous man from behind.

James was taken aback. "A-are you -"

"The one so said to be willing to help? Perhaps I am, perhaps I am not, but a closer look at the trespasser in question would be needed to determine that answer."

With that confusing invitation, James decided to open the door.

No situation, however depraved or desperate, could have ever possibly prepared him for such a scandalous sight.

A lone, burning lamp served as the light for the room. At the far wall was a bed, upon which a man knelt, facing away from the door. A mask was the only form of modesty the man assumed, with the rest of his body bared for the world to see. A woman, fair in complexion and hair, crouched beneath the man, her shapely legs and hands planted submissively, with golden hair serving as her own mask, moaning maniacally as the man plunged into her again and again. From the glistening sheen of the pair's skin, It was clear that they had been at it for some time.

James chanced a glance at his lady. He could only just imagine that the look on her face matched the shock and disgust of his.

The masked man tilted his head back. "Well? Will you come in? Shut the door while you make yourself welcome - I will only be a short moment."

James briefly contemplated making an escape from the garish situation while he could, but with nowhere else to turn, and nothing more to lose, he simply shrugged to himself and shut the door, feeling quite small and a bit queasy.

And a small bit curious.

He really had no choice in the circumstances.

Whether the masked man had noticed the commotion, James doubted, as the man suddenly hunched over slightly and grunted, thrusting one last time into the woman. The woman let out a surprised gasp and shuddered in ecstasy before collapsing - with a rather unusual grace, James noted passingly - onto the mattress. The man drew out his length (one that instantly made James feel inadequately-endowed) and gently wiped it over the woman's now dripping vulva.

"You, boy, can start talking. I've heard little more than the fact that a certain wanted boy is in need of assistance. And unfortunately, with information as inadequate as that, I'm afraid I'm presently even more useless to you than yourself." The man gestured to the figure. "So I'm assuming -"

James was taken aback. "So... so you're the person who -"

"Can help?" The masked man stepped off the bed, crossing over to James. "I'll make the verdict after I hear the story." He spread his arms out expectantly. "Apologies if my manner is a bit.. brusque. Time is not a monie to be trifled with."

James nodded and breathed slowly. He reached for his captive's veil and lifted it.

Bruised, disheveled, glaring with a spiteful smolder at James - nothing seemed to diminish the pure beauty glowing with a fiery vitality from every fiber of her being, not the haphazard getup James had hastily done for her hair nor the gag that he had crudely bound to her supple mouth. Entranced, James caught his lip curled in desire and hastily reassembled his face to conceal his emotion. Her face always captivated him - as it had captivated anyone who had the privilege and pleasure of meeting her.

"So this is -"

"Emmeline, yes."

"Emmeline being the name of the person you -"

"Let's start from the beginning," James interjected. The man stepped back and nodded, seeming satisfied.

James frowned. "So it was my job to tend to the horses. Emmeline here, she tried -"

"Telling the truth wouldn't hurt as well."

"What are you talking about?" James flared. "What gave you -"

"Your Emmeline would prove otherwise."

Vindicated satisfaction flashed in Emmeline's eyes. James cursed silently to himself.

"Trust me. No matter how bad it is... it cannot be any worse than what rumors people can pass around in your absence. If that wasn't the case, I would've delivered you to the executioner myself."

James grimaced, downcast. This much was true. The lies that even his mother spread about him...

Slowly but surely, James began a shaky recanting of his recent misfortunes.

He had had a misunderstanding with the glassmaker's daughter, Emmeline - a figure of such beauty there was talk that perhaps she could be one who married up into even the royal court. With her rich black hair, snow-white skin, perfect eyes, petite nose, and alluring lips, she charmed many a man who crossed her path - and an enigmatic number of lasses as well. All paired with her affinity for singing and a beautiful voice that seemed to give even the songbirds pause, becoming even acquainted with her was considered a blessing for several towns over. Her only vices were the haughtiness that naturally came about from such privilege and a headstrong and free disposition that obstructed potential courtships. Unfortunately, James was consistently on the short side of these affectations, and one thing had led to another until one fateful day, their resentment festered into a fight that ended with James suffering a fair amount of scratches on the face and Emmeline - the town's angel - utterly unconscious. Nerves had wrested control over the situation, and James could not recall the nature of how she had become unconscious - had she accidentally thrown herself into a pile of produce? Why would she even pick a fight with him? Was it him that finally snapped and sought her out? But even a natural jester could put two and two together and realize what the town would make of an obvious struggle between such an impulsive boy and such an attractive girl.

Of course, he had only made the situation worse by subsequently stowing her away in a secure location. He had thought such an action would prevent his being caught, but this plan backfired severely. People began asking questions, and somehow connections were made that pointed to James being the last person seen with her. As the suspicions and accusations piled up - not helped by the half-truths concealed within those accusations as well as the physical scars on James' face that were clearer than day, James decided to make it out while he still had a chance. This unwittingly hammered the final nail onto James' coffin, who was now all but guilty in the minds of the townspeople for presumably murdering Emmeline - and perhaps worse.

With a bounty on his head and the mounting interest of even the local nobility in the matter, James had resorted to one last frantic bid and reached out to his most dubious of friends for help. Though he was but a boy, he did have a modest share of wealth earned from careful saving of his parents' sympathies, and a small amount of outstanding obligation owed to him. With a little bit of coaxing, cajoling, and convincing, he had followed a treacherous trail to the doorsteps of this ruined inn, hoping on a fantastical whim that whatever lay here could and would solve his problems.

"Well," the man said finally, after much examination of both James and Emmeline.

"Bad, isn't it." James was not asking a question.

"I was right that the rumors were worse. Much worse. You're lucky this hasn't reached the ears of the high court..." The man tilted his head. Something sparkled on the mask. "Well. Perhaps I shouldn't jinx that."

"Right you are," James snarked. "My death sentence would become a death knell."

"I wouldn't be adopting that attitude in your position," the man intoned lightly.

"Sorry," James mumbled, thoroughly abashed.

But the man ignored the apology, turning his attention to Emmeline. "Perhaps I do have a solution for the problem at hand. Of course, such a thing demands equal price." the man murmured. He placed himself in front of Emmeline's face, and gently lifted her chin to meet his gaze. Emmeline's belligerent, fearful eyes, upon looking into the man's mask, suddenly widened in shock and glazed over. Her shoulders, which had been ever raised for fight or flight, dropped, and her whole body seemed to freeze over.

The man gently hovered his thumb over Emmeline's eyes. Emmeline stared dutifully ahead, not even blinking when the man began to stroke her eyelashes. When he seemed satisfied with her reaction, he gently tilted her head to the side and began to whisper in her ear.

James was too amazed to move. One moment Emmeline had been awake, alert, completely antagonized (perhaps rightfully so) at James. The next moment, she had become entirely docile and inert, her face empty and expressionless. She resembled a toy doll - and looked as picturesque as the prettiest of them.

For whatever reason, this made his own member strain against his pants.

After a while,the man tilted Emmeline's head back to resting position, stroked her hair - and loosened her gag and restraints.

"Sir-!" James started, though he did not know why he addressed this... interestingly vulgar figure as such. "Sir - what are you -"

"Relax," the man asserted calmly. "I know you may be concerned, but trust me, your... Emmeline... will need a stretch, after that exhilarating stint you put her through. Confined immobility does not help with either attraction nor longevity."

Immediately, Emmeline began to slowly stretch, almost catlike. The modest clothes James had found for Emmeline inevitably betrayed her tantalizing form, even in such a compromised state. Though her chest was not one that would have damned her to the brothels, it was by no means modest, and the sheer fabric barely draped over her body was to small her endowments. Emmeline sighed as she completed her motions, and James braced himself for retaliation - but instead of such a response, Emmeline simply returned her outstretched hands to her side. Despite the seeming relief such a recline should have elicited, Emmeline's face revealed nothing, retaining the identical blankness from when she first stared into the man's mask.

As she began to slowly rub her wrists, the man added, "Quite stupid of me to have forgotten to mention - you needn't worry about her escaping. Or screaming. Or harming you in any capacity, for now."

"What... what did you do to her?" James asked.

"Only a little explaining. She has had a burning love for you that has existed ever since she met you. She has never been able to express herself, which is why she has treated you the way she has."

James squinted. "Wait... really?" Such a thing seemed strangely preposterous, especially given her constant attitude against him.

The man ignored the interruption. "But when you finally asked her if she loved you, she finally found the courage to confess. You two promptly decided to elope to the city, where you consummated your love and proposed to each other in swift fashion."

James frowned in confusion. "I'm sorry... what? I did none of those things, and she would sooner chop me up and feed me to pigs than ever respond to such a thing - let alone, say yes."

James swore the man was grinning behind the mask. "I told her things, that she now places undeniable conviction in. Now," the man snapped his fingers. "I believe there is a debt to my favor."

"W-wait... what do you mean?" James was still reeling from the whole thing. He had only just gotten settled (well, as settled as sanely possible) in this room, and the man he just met now claimed the entire situation was resolved? It all seemed so drastic and fictional to him, more a dream or a scam than something that would actually save his livelihood and reputation. "Y-you can't just be doing all of this and doing this to her... doing whatever you've been doing this entire time... and just not explaining any of it. Why is Emmeline not attacking me? Why were you... having... doing whatever you were doing... on the bed when you invited me in? Why go through all those actions with me in the room? What exactly did you do to her? How would I know this even works, and that you haven't concocted an act or that you haven't inadvertently - or even advertently - hurt her beyond repair?"

A small noise drew their attention back to Emmeline. Though her eyes were still not fully focused, she seemed to regain some sense of her surroundings.

"James... what..."

Then she saw the masked man, and her eyes widened. With a small cry, she turned towards the door, attempting to make an escape from her captors.

Faster than James could blink, the man descended upon her, whirling her around and seizing her chin to stare at her face again. Emmeline's eyes quickly clouded over, and the man shortly returned her back to where she had been standing. The man whispered more into her ear, then stepped back with a shudder.

"Place of a decoy..." the man murmured. "A shortsight on my end. Clearly, it's been too long."

"What... what was..." James was too stunned and scared for words. If Emmeline had escaped...

"Firstly," the man said shortly. "It's sex. No need to be prudish about it, considering the things you've done yourself. Secondly, it would take a while to explain, but what I did was mind control."

James barked, unamused.

Mind control? Such a thing sounded... ludicrous. It was more like genuine witchcraft or terrible nightmare tales that were told to scare even adults. Not something that he had just witnessed, something that had been done in front of him and was over in the blink of an eye without him knowing. He would more likely believe in changelings than in such a fantasy as mind control.

But sadly, for the umpteenth time, he reminded himself that he really was in no position to question, and that perhaps if he would just shut up and wait for once, the answers would come to him in time.

The masked man wasted no time in supplying them to James. "Essentially, I've gained control over her mind - or rather, certain aspects of it. It would be rather unfortunate if she just stopped breathing all of a sudden, or if her heart just decided to not beat anymore, after all. Rather, whatever it is - how do I explain the control? - actually, I won't."