Maid in Heaven Ch. 01

Nicole's Note: In the real world, consensual nonconsent requires deep trust, as well as much more setup than the fantasy we play with here bothers with. Keep in mind that it is a fantasy. I'm sure the elf bimbos and hypnosis will make that clear enough. ;)

Also, this story features a couple cute lesbian trans women. If you're uncomfortable with stories featuring cocks, that's totally valid. If you're uncomfortable with trans women or don't see them as "real women", that's not valid at all, that's embarrassing.

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Miari's hands were on her hips as she looked over the old castle, eyes narrowed. Well. She was here.

The Toxin Ranger had been tracking the activities of Lady Ciliata for a long time now. The baroness of this particular domain liked to keep a low profile, only coming out to play when she found something, or someone, she wanted. Fey barons and baronesses were rare, and few people had ever seen Lady Ciliata in person—her 'official' castle was managed entirely by servants, many of whom had been trained to be almost as dangerous as mindweavers themselves.

The hunt had been exhausting and dangerous work. Most Toxin Rangers were content to spend their time protecting an assigned lodge, but upon arriving in the Western Plains barony, Miari had quickly determined that it was not going to be safe for her to stay in one place for too long. Lady Ciliata was very powerful, and her agents and thralls were dug in too deep; it had taken everything Miara had to stay one step ahead of them and hunt for the elusive baroness.

Miari had needed to do a lot of careful investigation and area sweeps to find her target, as the kitsune had several castles and estates, all designed to lure in unsuspecting prey. But the distribution of spelled peaches gradually revealed a discernable pattern. This had to be the wicked kitsune's true home. This was the center of all the deliveries, the nearest point that all of Lady Ciliata's agents seemed to congregate around.

Plus, it was surrounded by massive, heavy-laden peach trees. Miari smirked. That was a pretty foolish tell, frankly.

Granted, the trees surrounding the manor were younger than she'd expected, and smaller—if they were dire peaches, they definitely needed a few more decades to grow out to the classic size. The fresh peaches Ciliata's agents liked to spread around the neighboring towns and baronies were much larger, and came in much more vibrant shades of orange and pink. Perhaps the real orchard was hidden deeper in the estate?

Miari checked that her sword remained loose in its scabbard. She was dressed for battle—a shirt of mail and a pair of leather trousers studded with extra straps for better protection. Even her long blonde hair was pulled back in a practical ponytail. With a knife in each boot and numerous tools and pre-prepared potions tied to the sash that arced from her shoulder to her hip, she looked like she was ready to storm the castle single-handedly.

Of course, 'storming' wasn't exactly the plan. Miari approached the door cautiously, eyes darting about for any sign of trouble. She wasn't too worried. Lady Ciliata was not known for her subtlety, nor for her magical finesse. This was unusual for a kitsune, who normally wielded great magical power. But fey who acted as human as she did—who took on human titles and lived in castles and ran estates filled with servants—tended to have weaker magic, as if the World Base itself could sense that they weren't as much fey as they ought to have been.

The peaches had been spiked with a fairly clumsily brewed brainwashing potion. Quite curable, which suggested to Miari that Ciliata didn't have an especially gifted brewer on board. A bit of luck. It suggested Lady Ciliata wasn't quite as resourceful as she thought she was.

Nevertheless, Miari kept her eyes peeled for danger. There could still be wards placed by one of Lady Ciliata's many faithful thralls, and one wrong move in a mindweaver's den spelled disaster.

Miari rubbed the little bronze mushroom brooch at her sash, and smiled grimly. As a Toxin Ranger, she had been more than prepared to treat those who'd been affected, and most of the victims would soon be back to managing complete sentences without so much as a 'like' or a cute giggle. Their bodies, too, would return to normal, though the peach's effects in that department were thankfully more minimal.

Of course, she thought, as a grain of salt touched on her memories, some had been a little disappointed to learn they wouldn't keep the curves they'd been given.

Honestly. Some people almost seemed to enjoy being transformed against their will.

Miari didn't understand non-Rangers sometimes. Common folk sometimes seemed so... ambivalent about fey mischief. But she was from Nyaska, and things were different in the city. She didn't understand the commoners at all.

She tried to respect it, but she also tried not to think about it. Part of her didn't really want to understand it.

Something caught Miari's eye, and just in time, she sidestepped a curious clump of rather sapphic blossoms growing next to the path. The blossoms were a brilliant hot pink, and dripped with something like honey as their stalks shifted—against the breeze—towards her.

They were almost as tall as Miari's hips, which was saying something: Miari was quite tall, enough to intimidate people, which she quite enjoyed. She hurried around, giving the flowers a very, very wide berth.

The door was unlocked.

Miari swallowed.

That... could be a very good sign or a very, very bad one.

She brushed some ochre-yellow seeall pollen from a pouch at her side over the doorknob. It wafted like chalk powder, as pale blue as Miari's own misty eyes, and settled on the shiny brass metal.

Nothing happened. She stared disbelievingly for a long moment. That... was that even possible?

Just as the dust was finishing settling, a breeze picked up and blew the dust back up into the air, and this jolted Miari back into the moment as she quickly covered her mouth to keep from inhaling it.

But gods, that was... a surprise.

The door was unlocked.

The door was untrapped.

Did Lady Ciliata really think nobody would find her? Had she assumed nobody would even bother to look?

Miari hesitated, then reached down and drew her sword. It slid from the scabbard soundlessly, to her satisfaction. Miari always took excellent care of her tools and equipment.

With any luck, she wouldn't need to use them. Miari was confident she had this well in hand. But, she thought, grimacing, sometimes in her line of work, things didn't exactly go to plan.

She reached down and grasped the doorknob. Belatedly, as she turned it, she wondered if a subtler trap might have been concealed within the mechanisms of the lock, or on the door itself.

But the door opened easily, and Miari gave a sly smile. It seemed that the Baroness was very much unprepared for this engagement.

As she entered, Miari was greeted by a world out of a storybook.

The foyer of the manor might as well have been a cathedral in its grandeur. The ceiling arched high, supported by elegant corbels with fine lacing. Colorful tapestries of abstract designs, pink and red and deep violet, draped from the walls and fluttered around like thick ribbon. Pale pedestals lined the walls, each bearing unique and beautiful works of art. There were free-standing pieces, too, such as a suit of rune-covered silver armor, or a hanging sheet of solid amber made to look like drapery, or a gorgeous pair of white armchairs styled to resemble sloping swans. The polished marble of the walls and ceiling—such a lavish, extravagant rarity in this part of the world—shone like misty glass, to the extent that Miari almost did a double-take. It was like a pale iced-over lake in the sunlight.

And it was bright. Miari flinched as her hand went to cover her eyes as the pulsing, many-colored glare of the hanging chandeliers, great priceless devices of glass and chain, pounded every inch of the room in ceaseless day.

The manor was magnificent, and Miari was briefly speechless, amazed at the sight. The Western Plains barons and baronesses were infamous for many things, including terrible vanity and terrible privilege, but she'd never heard of anything so extreme. This was like a royal castle, surely, from the stories Miari had heard about the old Royal Family. Or a cathedral, from the stories Miari had read about the time of the gods.

It couldn't be real. And, Miari felt deeply in her gut, it wasn't. Not really. This was a facade, maintained lovingly by Lady Ciliata's faithful servants. No doubt the stone was real, imported at great expense, but the lights clearly weren't magical—they were mundane oil lanterns, as Miari looked closer, tricked with colored glass to seem to glow in otherworldly light. The foyer was not so vast as it seemed, either, Miari told herself. It was an optical illusion, easily seen through, created by the reflectiveness of the floors.

And all those art pieces, the antiques and knickknacks... well, those were probably worth something, but fey didn't really get historical significance, and Miari wouldn't have been surprised to learn that half of the items there were just random pretty things the foxgirl had taken a liking to in marketplaces. Nothing so special.

It was still stunning. It was still breathtaking. Miari forced herself to sniff disdainfully. One of the chief tenets of the Toxin Rangers was a sort of neutrality bordering on contempt for the rich and powerful.

She wasn't impressed. It was just a nice house, that was all. Maintained by brainwashed servants, clearly. Her grip tightened on the hilt of her longsword. And soon it would be regarded by those who visited it as just another ruin.

Still, it was pretty. She took a moment to admire the way the rosy lights of a nearby chandelier sent pretty shadows dancing across the floor.

And then she gave a start as a high-pitched voice positively squealed in her ear, "Welcome!"

Miari spun, containing a yelp of alarm, half-drawing her sword back to strike.

A positively gorgeous elven woman was beaming at Miari, her form as radiant as the reflected beams of sunset-pink and twilight-purple bouncing off of her platinum-blonde hair. Her curls rolled merrily down her shoulders, complementing her brilliant sea-green eyes and shining smile. She was clad in a rather embarrassingly suggestive maid outfit, with a bodice that put her tits out on display, a corset that hugged her narrow waist tightly as if it could not bear to let her go—because who could, with a body like that? The bustle of her skirt swung dramatically to the side as the blonde elfmaid struck a pose, left hand on her wide hips, right hand with a finger to her plump, rose-pink lips, prominent dimples rising as her smile seemed to flood the entire room with a dawn of her own making. A feather duster was held in her left hand.

Miari stared for a moment, stunned. Dazzled, almost. She'd met plenty of servants of Lady Ciliata, but... wow. Her heart fluttered a little. She'd never seen such a vision.

And judging by those pretty pink hearts swirling in those pretty green eyes of hers, this woman was firmly, absolutely under Lady Ciliata's control, and thus a danger.

Nonetheless, Miari's grip on the sword relaxed slightly—the maid's radiant beauty made it difficult to maintain an overtly hostile stance. But considering the guileless way the maid had revealed herself to an otherwise unaware Miari, the Ranger knew she needed to keep up her guard. Miari chided herself for having been so focused on the surroundings. Even if Lady Ciliata was overconfident and overextended, it still didn't excuse sloppiness.

"Hello," she said uncertainly, finally lowering the sword. "Who are you?"

"I'm Galess!" the elfmaid cooed. And before Miari could even react, she lunged forward, grabbed Miari's hands—one still on the sword—and planted a wet, sloppy kiss on each of Miari's cheeks. Miari was briefly stunned by the sheer audacity, and then Galess pulled back, giggling, and batted her eyelashes. "What's your name?"

"M-Miari," Miari stammered, blinking rapidly. Briefly, her heart chilled at the thought of poison, but she didn't feel any of the usual side effects of a toxic kiss—nor did the maid seem to have any unusual perfume that Miari could detect.

She smelled nice. Like oranges and lemons. But... not intoxicatingly nice. Just nice.

Just like those eyes weren't alluringly pretty, or addictively pretty, or hypnotically pretty.

Just... pretty.

"Ooh, that's, like, suuuch a pretty name!" Galess gushed, her eyes widening to the size of saucers. Her eyelashes fluttered like the thick, hanging branches of a growing fir tree. "Miari. Miari." She giggled. "It is so nice to meet you, Miari!"

"I-Is it." Miari kept her voice carefully, rigidly neutral. She had to. Galess seemed harmless now, but the Ranger knew from experience how easily a 'bimbo thrall' could turn into a cunning femme fatale when the right trigger was activated.

She'd also heard stories of bimbos themselves being dangerous, but, well... she couldn't help but smirk at that. Sure, lavender dryads and the sort had their perils, but mindweaving took a bit more brains than someone like Galess, in her current state, could muster.

"Yes! Yes yes yes!" Galess's voice was sugary bliss, as if saying the word was the sweetest ecstasy in the world, and she bounced with excitement.

Miari tried not to enjoy the sight too much, despite the part of her that very much enjoyed the way Galess's massive, freckled breasts seemed to jiggle with a mind of their own. She was a Toxin Ranger, a member of the most conservative of the four Ranger Orders, and it was heavily discouraged for Rangers to meddle in carnal affairs during work hours. Especially women with other women. Bad for the family unit, or something like that. Miari didn't think much of that, and most Toxin Rangers ignored it as an outdated artifact. Regardless, Miari did prefer to keep play out of work.

Frankly, she didn't 'play' much at all. Miari didn't like losing control. So she cleared her throat, prompting Galess to stop bouncing and just blink at her with those big, heart-filled doe eyes. "Why is that?" she asked, keeping her expression as neutral as she could manage. When the maid continued to blink back, she added, "That it's nice to meet me?"

"Well, you're a guest!" Galess blinked at Miari, as if the Ranger had asked why she was standing on her feet and not her head. "It's my job to welcome guests when Mistress is occupied, silly!" She giggled, swinging her ass to the other side and mirroring the hand-on-hip pose. "Like, I'm suuuper good at it!"

"Oh, really?" Miari's guard was immediately raised. So they knew she was here? Or did Galess never leave the foyer area? Probably the latter, she supposed, remembering the time she'd met a brainwashed boytoy who was trained to spend his whole life kneeling in a particular closet in case his mistresses had need of his tongue while getting dressed in a few particular skirts. Compared to that, waiting over a whole foyer was quite mundane.

Regardless, this suggested that Galess's role was as something of a guard. But what possible threat could this bubbly babbler pose to a seasoned Ranger? Miari barely suppressed a smirk as Galess's hyperactive bouncing caused a few locks of stray blonde hair to sweep right into her eyes. Miari was quite proud of her own practical ponytail.

"Yuh-huh!" Galess's head bobbed, smirking as she brushed the hair away. "I do whatever guests want me to!" She gave a suggestive wink. "Anything."

The statement was too overt to even be considered innuendo, and her posture had gotten distinctly sultry—the hips swung out to one side and her chest thrust up, presenting her full range of delights for Miari to... admire. Her eyes glimmered and shone like molten malachite, malachite filled with candy hearts.

Miari swallowed. "Anything?" Her mouth was surprisingly dry, but an idea was beginning to occur to her.

"Anything," Galess moaned, running her hands down her curves, caressing her massive, pillowy breasts and squeezing them seductively, wantonly. Gods, she couldn't have been more obviously trying to delay Miari if she'd asked the Ranger to please just stay in one place for ten minutes while Mistress got out of her shower.

Miari carefully sheathed her sword, then reached into her satchel and drew out a length of silk cord.

"Would you... let me tie you up?" she asked hesitantly, and then, worried this would be too far, quickly added, "as a game?"

"Oooooh." Galess blinked and giggled. "Kinky! Totally, like, yes, please!" She jiggled her shoulders up and down. "Tie me up, Miari! Do it!"

Miari couldn't help but notice the way her pale cheeks had gone a dusky pink.

Oh, gods. She was into this.

Miari hesitated, then took a step forward and cautiously grasped the maid's wrist. Galess gave a soft gasp and giggled nervously, but didn't object. Far from it—she positively leaned into Miari's touch.

Oh, gods. She was really into this.

Miari tried to swallow her discomfort—and some unwanted emotions at having a gorgeous bimbo elfmaid basically falling into her arms begging to be tied up—and began working the knots.

"Ooh." Galess panted, squirming. "That... ooh, that's n-nice..."

As Miari pulled her close, feeling her own cheeks burning in embarrassment and something else, she felt a distinct tenting beneath Galess's skirt.

Oh, gods. She was really, really into this.

Miari's cheeks were as brilliant sunset-red as Galess's, she knew, as she worked hurriedly, binding Galess's wrists together. Galess had such slight, lovely wrists, and those dainty fingers tickled Miari's hands as she nervously took the feather duster away from her and cast it to the floor.

It made a distinct tinny sound when it hit the floor. Miari winced.

"Ooh..." Galess's eyes were as wide and innocent as shutterless windows as she stared at Miari, her plump pink lips jutting out in a sultry pout. "Are you gonna... get me the, like... the ring?"

"Ring?" Miari swallowed, staring uncomprehendingly at the gorgeous, wriggling blonde. Oh, gods. She could see the tenting, now. Galess was incredibly turned on.

And, Miari thought, squirming, Miari was starting to, um... to feel a little...

She quelled the thought with a forced scowl and tied the second wrist a little tighter to the arm of the swan chair. She was not turned on, and even if she was, her tight, restrictive trousers would contain any... any signs to the contrary.

Her tight, confining leather trousers. Binding her. Keeping her cock contained, helpless to so much astwitch, even when Galess seemed to be deliberately grinding her ass against Miari's hips, encouraging Miari to buck forward, to grind back, to...

Miari's cheeks blazed like tar on a sweltering summer day as she pulled back. "W-What ring?" she repeated, desperate to distract the beautiful, horny elf.

Galess was breathless with desire as she gazed up at Miari adoringly, her eyes heavy-lidded, lips half-parted. "The feather ring," she whispered, and bit her lip. Her eyelashes fluttered seductively. "Since I'm being tied up. Mistress always... when we've been bad..."

"B-Bad?" The Ranger's breath caught in her throat, then turned to choking lemon blossom petals as Galess leaned closer and her pleasant scent filled Miari's lungs, her pretty eyes filled Miari's vision, her... her touch filled Miari's... Miari's...

"Or..." the bimbo purred, "when we've been good... very, very goooooooood..."