Ffion Chooses Slavery Pt. 02

"No, no," said Sara. "You may dress once you've left the building, over there, near to the statue."

She pointed down from the high window to a spot a hundred metres away from the building. With every fibre of her being Ffion fought the humiliation and embarrassment. She obeyed. With a much dignity as she could muster, Ffion walked out of the office, heels clicking, took the lift to the ground floor and trembled out of the building in bra, pants, stockings and suspenders. Convinced that every eye was on her Ffion strode to the statue and dressed hurriedly. High in their glass tower Lucy and Sara smiled.

"I'm very grateful you brought me into this project. So many submissive men and women turn out to be a disappointment but this one seems different."

"Just wait till you meet the woman behind this," replied Sara. "Your first impression would mislead you into thinking her a quiet shy woman, but there's a steely determination running through her. I don't think she ever planned to own a slave but at each opportunity she has subtlety dominated that creature into choosing deeper and deeper submission."

"Indeed," said Lucy. "What I hear of C and Jenny suggests they're having such fun with it. Just reading their posts on the WhatsApp group makes it clear they are head over heels in love with each other but they also love Ffion. It's a strange paradox that the expression of their love is to make Ffion into their slave. Its wonderful; we should encourage more women down this road."

"Its nine days to the ceremony It's so exciting."

"I'm not sure about the witchcraft aspects, it's all a bit NewAge holistic mumbo-jumbo."

"I quite like it," replied Sara " It puts us in touch with strong women from down the ages who used trickery and dark arts to protect women from despicable men."

"I keep forgetting you were a mediaevalist at Oxford. Is that were you developed your interest in torture?"

"Well a little bit of torture fits in with current thinking at the Home Office. Some of those people would happily bring back slavery and serfdom."

Ffion dressed herself in the street and looked up at the anonymous glass windows that hid those assertive women. Ffion was feeling trapped. The humiliation of walking through a busy London street in bra, knickers, suspenders stockings and high heels had overwhelmed her. Behind Lucy's terse phrases Ffion sensed the power arrayed to hold her to her promise. Her assets were in C's hands, her heart was bound to C. She fought the urge to run in panic, she had nowhere to run to. If she told the story of her journey from nerdy middle aged man to cross dressed housekeeper thence to almost slave, nobody would believe it, or they would say 'you asked for it'. Ffion straightened her skirt, stood with her head up, chest out and composed herself. Damn right she thought, I have asked for it.! She caught her reflection in a shop window; she looked OK. Dressed as a smart busy woman she felt the swish of her skirt, her crisp blouse, soft lingerie; she felt a confidence that had always eluded H. This was who she was meant to be. Ffion looked up towards the office window, waved and walked into the swirling London crowds, striding confidently contentedly towards a future called slave.

As the train sped Ffion back to the old house her phone pinged. It was C.

'We need to have a talk about the ceremony. We'll have a group chat this evening at eight.'

When eight o'clock arrived Ffion was waiting. C started a video call and Ffion was overjoyed to see her and Jenny's faces.

"How did you get on with Lucy and Sara?" asked C.

"They told me all about the powerful friends they'll call on if I try to escape from my promise to you."

"How did you feel about that?"

"At first I thought it weird and they were over the top trying to scare and humiliate me. Then I realised that it fits in with your intentions to make my slavery real."

C replied, "You know I always do things properly. Now you know some of the arrangements to keep you helpless and hopeless."

"Thank you Miss C."

"Clare has been in touch and she has a proposal for you. I've discussed it with Jenny and Catryn. We think you should hear her suggestion but you are free to refuse. I'll add her to the call."

Clare appeared in the video call.

"Hi C, hi Ffion," began Clare. "First I need to say that I love what you're doing and I'll still officiate at Halloween. However, I've discussed your slavery with one of our elders and she's deeply concerned that we are not treating it with the gravity it deserves. She says that slavery has a long tradition in our craft and there are rites and rituals that should be followed. Rituals that will bind you to the end of time. In older times slaves would be taken by force but they would be held in slavery by the arts of our sisters. This is dark magic that is normally forbidden these days, but my elder believes that because you enter slavery for love there should be an exception."

"That sounds OK," said Ffion.

"You need to know that whether you believe in magic or not, you will be bound by it. There are also personal risks. In the past slaves died if their spirit resisted.... do you want to take that risk?"

"Ffion, you need to be sure, you need to be sure of your desire to be a slave to me and Jenny. Not a single doubt in your mind," said C.

"I know I can still turn back, I know I can choose to walk away from all of this. I could live a free life but I still choose to give myself to be your slave and if Clare's witches can help me achieve that then I'll do it."

"Would you like some time to think it over?" asked Clare.

"No. I know my mind. I'll accept the risks."

"Thank you Ffion. It means a lot to me that you'll do this," said C.

"Thank you Miss C. I want this to work. I don't want to play at this. Every step we put in place now will make our experience of slavery as real as possible, you as my owner and me as your property."

Clare promised to send detailed instructions. "We'd like you to be at a farm below Dartmoor between three and four the day after tomorrow. You'll carry on to the cottage the next day."

Ffion's phone pinged giving a Google maps route along with very detailed instructions from Clare on stops Ffion must make to pay her respects. When Ffion had arrived back at the house she'd found two packages that had been delivered during the day. The larger packet containing a plain white cotton blouse that had little ribbons ties rather than buttons and a linen shift dress in brown and green with embroidered oak leaves, acorns and flowers around the hem and little stars and moons around the neckline: both items were hand made and seemed to be quite old. They had a magical quality. The smaller packet was from John Lewis; inside was a cute black mesh bra decorated with colourful stars, a pretty present from C. She was to wear the underwear and clothes for the next two days. Ffion spent the evening tidying the last details in the house, packing the campervan and rereading the rather odd instructions.

Early the next day she walked into town and handed the house keys over to the letting agent. Now Ffion's only home was the cottage. By ten she was on the way. Her first stop was the White Horse carved into the chalk hills just west of Oxford. Here Ffion climbed the ridge above the carving and left a posy of flowers. She slipped her arms out of the shift dress, took off her blouse and bra and with her boobs exposed she shouted.

"Old grey mare, let me ride this road

By moon and stars that sail above

I will take the path of love."

Exhilarated, Ffion laughed at the elderly hikers staring at her and slowly dressed. She walked back to the ancient Ridgeway then down the lanes to where the van was parked at the bottom of the scarp. She started up the engine and headed for the next stop on Clare's spiritual itinerary. South through Marlborough and onto the A4, Ffion rolled through green hills alive with barrows and earthworks. She pulled into the carpark at Avebury then walked into the heart of the henge and placed a posy of flowers. She walked southeast, along a path bound by rows of stones then climbed Silbury Hill, leaving a second posy of flowers on the summit. She crossed the main road and followed a path up the hill to West Kennet Long Barrow where she left a third posy. She descended by a different route, taking the path to the Swallow Head Spring. Here, in a mystic landscape rich in ancient tombs and mounds and standing stones, cold clear water bubbled up from deep in the chalk into a small pool surrounded by willows. All around the pool there were prayer flags and other tokens were people had come to make a wish. Hidden from view by the low trees Ffion slowly undressed. Just in bra and pants she looked around; no one in sight. She reached behind, unclipped the bra, then stepped out of her knickers. The duality of her being was exposed. Soft hair, gentle curves, smooth body yet hidden between her legs was the shrivelled vestige of manhood. She stepped into the pool, sat on the gravel bottom, then lay back until she was totally immersed in the chilly waters. Then she stood naked and made her wish.

"Ice cold water wash me clean of pomp and pride

I shall be a humble bride,

A simple soul reborn to serve."

She climbed out of the pool dripping and shivering but her instruction was clear. She was to walk toward the van but only dress once she was dry. In the cool autumn afternoon Ffion walked naked back to the van, dressed in the back then jumped in the cab and drove west towards the Mendips.

Ffion parked the van in Glastonbury and strolled through the little town past twee tea rooms and gift shops selling new age tack as they approached closing time. She surprised herself with the thought that over seven months ago she was H, masculine racked with self doubt, uncertain, unhappy, who dreamed of walking out in a dress. Now she could feel the force of her nature running through her, feminine, confident in her new being, certain of her path in life, brimming with joy and eager to become an abject slave. She strode along heading for the Tor. The sun was low in the sky as Ffion walked up through willow bowers and apple orchards then up the steep path. Ffion sat on the cropped grass at the summit and drank in the atmosphere as the sun sank. Her journey through England's spiritual landscape have her the feeling that forces were aligning, drawing her towards the awful fate she craved. Lucy and Sara had shown her the stick, the negative consequences of she failed in her submission. Clare's journey was the carrot that drew her to her destiny. The last glimmer of the setting sun fell from view. Ffion bowed her head and quietly said goodbye to her freedom.

The purples of evening faded into black and a silver half moon rose. Ffion placed her posy on the Tor then once more stood and undressed. Her nakedness danced around the tower, her nakedness pointed her to her future; her ego was exposed, her pride was gone, she was a being waiting to be reborn.

"White goddess, take me,

remake me,

I am alone in the world

waiting to serve for love."

She walked three times around the tower, chanting to the moon, then with arms held high she faced the moon shouting.

"Take me, remake me, make me a slave."

Then she sat on the grass, held her face in her hands and wept. The moon's cold embrace held her while she emptied her heart but her tears were not of sadness but of knowledge. She dressed and walked down the hill.

It was late when she set out for her final destination of the day, a return to Cerne Abbas. She would greet the sun from the tip of a giant penis carved into the chalk. The day came slowly as Ffion lay in the grass. As instructed she'd eaten nothing since starting her journey the previous morning. Her limbs shivered and her belly ached as the dew filled dawn stole away the darkness.

"Come shine into my soul,

Burn away my doubt,

Warm my blood and feed my heart

Let my inner slave come out."

Ffion left her final posy of flowers and danced back to the van. She had a two hour drive to her final destination to arrive in ten hours time so she allowed herself a detour to Sidmouth where she swam in her bra and pants in the sea then relaxed by contemplating the long view to the horizon. Early afternoon she set off on the last leg of her journey. As she got closer to her destination the lanes got steeper and narrower until she reached the point where she been told to park the van, next to a couple of other cars.

Ffion walked along a road that became rougher as she went along. Trees closed in on other side of the track, a high bank on one side heavy with mossy roots, the ground tasking away in the other side. Far below through the trees a busy stream hurried on its way. The damp softness of mouldering leaves filled Ffion's nostrils. Ffion's journey to henge, spring, chalk carvings and high places had lead her here. There were hard bones of rock in the land that rose high on either side of the valley Ffion was walking into. The crows overhead called her onwards. Come to find yourself, come into the wild, here under branch and brash you'll know. Ffion walked up to a wooden five bar gate. Finding it locked she climbed over. Now the track was a mess of rocks, ruts and puddles but Ffion saw signs at the side of the path. Branches plaited together, painted pebbles, coloured wool strands, marks carved into the living rock. The track turned to cross a shoulder of land and the trees gave way to a patchwork of paddocks and small fields, surrounded by trees on all sides. To one side of the clearing was a perfect stone house with smoke curling up from the chimney set within an orchard on one side and a faded rambling garden on the other. The track led up to the cottage and carried on into the trees on the steep slope beyond. A battered old Land Rover sat next to a shed. Below the house the river rushed over boulders. Ffion felt drawn towards the homely house as of she belonged there. It seemed to be the most tranquil place in a busy world. Ffion paused to look at the scene with longing.

A figure moved in the garden and a voice called out, "She's here, she's here!"

Two more figures emerged from the house. Three women were walking up the track and Ffion started towards them. The women, all dressed in earthy colours of browns, greens greys and purples, were holding hands and singing as they walked. They met with Ffion and embraced her.

"Welcome, welcome to our place, our secret place. I'm Flora and ill be with you at Halloween and with you on your life journey. My sisters and I are here to greet you."

She was a striking young woman in her mid twenties, petite and perfect, with piercing blue eyes, pierced ears and nose and deadlocked blond hair. Her companions were a little older and could have passed unremarked in any office or high street. They all wore handmade clothes with embroidered motifs taken from nature. Flora led the way back to the house while her companions held Ffion's hands and sang. They lead Ffion into the house where the smells of cooking, herbs and flowers welcomed her asking with four more women. The eldest among them was tall with greying hair and kind winkles around her eyes where smiles had passed for many years. She had the air of a retired academic.

She was smiling now, "Welcome child, you may call me Mother. We are seven, here to prepare you for your future, to hold you in our love and bind you to your desire. What is it you desire, child?"

She reached out and held Ffion, just as a mother holds a child. Ffion was overwhelmed by emotion, feeling safe, warm and secure.

"I wish, I wish..." stammered Ffion but before she could say the words she sobbed.

"There, there, you're safe here," Mother comforted Ffion and held her while the tears flowed. "I know your desire. Try to say the words. "

"I wish to become a slave. A slave to the love of my life and to the lover who holds her heart."

"What would you give for your wish?"

"I have given my manhood, my marriage and everything I owned."

"Tonight we will free your heart and soul so you can give those too." She turned to her coven, "Sisters, a slave is an old rank, the most lowly rank. A slave was taken by force and held by fear. Tonight we will summon the old forces to hold her. It is dark magic to take someone against their will as a slave. Our sister Ffion gives herself freely, but once given she will be held, without mercy, without hope. She gives a mighty gift so we will bind her in the light, knowing that ever after she will be held in the dark.."

"Yes Mother," they all answered.

The witches moved into the kitchen to sit around a large table to eat.

Clare looked up at Ffion, "Sorry but we can't let you eat yet, but we have prepared a tonic for you."

She handed Ffion a plain mug of steaming liquid that smelled like mulled wine and taste of fruits and herbs but with earthy flavours. It was warning and sustaining and it flowed to Ffion's limbs and revived her. The witches ate heartily, chatting with each other and talking with Ffion. She was surrounded by love and welcome and was given another cup of tonic; Ffion thought it contained alcohol as she began to feel light headed, though that may have been tiredness and hunger. The meal was completed and Clare and Flora took Ffion away while the rest of the witches washed up.

"Undress please," Flora told Ffion.

Ffion stripped to her underwear.

"Cute set" said Flora as she removed Ffion's bra.

The two women painted Ffion's body with thick foul smelling paints, again in earth colours, letting it dry then adding details of flowers and leaves. Mother came in with another cup of tonic for Ffion, then she pulled off Ffion's knickers.

"All of her must be painted, please. She was telling the truth about giving up manhood," Mother joked.

She poked at Ffion's shrivelled penis and made the witches smile. Any shame Ffion might have experienced was gone; when she was told to expose her body and she could no longer resist. Ffion sipped her drink while Clare and Flora decorated her body. Once the paint was dry she was allowed to get dressed once more. Clare asked Ffion to wait while she and Flora went into the kitchen.

Ffion looked around the room. At first glance it could have been any sitting room until the eye caught the details of the art on the walls, the books on the shelves and the objects does around the room, all of them stepped in mystery and magick. Ffion sensed a force in the room. She sipped her tonic.

She heard signing and chanting from the witches as they worked. Then they appeared, all seven of them, dressed in cagoules, carrying rucksacks, wearing hiking boots; a veritable ladies walking club. They swept Ffion up into their party and headed out onto the track as it lead further up, climbing steeply through the woods. At various points they stopped to bow to a particular tree, or to leave a gift next a certain rock or to sing to a brook as it rushed through the valley. Ffion was puffing her breath as they neared the edge of the wood. The valley around the house had been in shadow but as they reached to open moorland the sun, though low in the sky, was still shining on the land. The path was narrow and the ground wet and boggy in places. Ffion, in her blouse and dress felt peaty mud ouse between her toes. She pondered wondering why she left the house without shoes, but she walked with the witches and it all made sense. Her stomach was a little queasy. The horizon shimmered. Ffion skipped and giggled. At a tump of dry ground they paused and poured themselves tea from flasks and someone offered Ffion a cup of tonic.

"It will keep you warm," they said.

Tea over, they lead Ffion over a fold in land to a stone circle high on the moor. The witches made a neat pile of their cagoules and boots. Musical instruments were taken from rucksacks. Ffion smiled as they lead her to walk three times around the circle before they took her to stand on a large flat rock at the centre. The witches crowded around whispering to Ffion.