The Amberdown Rebellion

Despite herself, Bethan smiled back. "Thank you again. It has been too long." Her yellow-green eyes were sparkling again, the tiny elongated black pupils standing out, the green flecks that overlaid the golden irises shining. She raised her glass to the Amazon. "I shall be more ladylike -- more befitting a princess." She looked down at herself in disgust "Not that I resemble one."

Izador sat next to her and put a huge arm around her slim shoulders. Bethan tensed, but the woman spoke tenderly. "You will be a princess again, Bethan. Very soon." She picked up the glass tube she had brought in with her and held a candle to the opening. She sucked on a mouthpiece and sighed as the pepper-spice hit home. She held it out to Bethan, who took it with a trembling hand and felt the sweet smoke do its work. She felt a tingle all the way down to the tips of her toes and her tail. The woman's hand on her shoulder felt good. She took another hit and a sip of wine. Emboldened, she faced her captor.

"Thank you for not hurting me back there. I thought for a moment..." She flicked her tail and the Amazon smiled.

"It is beautiful. I wish I had one. I'm sorry my illusion shocked you, but they needed to see you hurting. Is it true -- if I had cut it off, would it grow back?"

Bethan nodded slowly. "In time." She sighed. "But that is one commodity I have an abundance of." She stared sadly off into the distance before lowering her head. "That and hopelessness." She twiddled the tuft of her tail in her long slim fingers. Izador held her hand out and despite herself, Bethan put it into her fingers. She stroked it gently and put the shaggy little end of it to her lips. Bethan shuddered. It felt good, and she hated herself for feeling that way.

"You did well back there." Izador flicked her head towards the door. "Very convincing. I came hard at you and you dodged well. You people seem so delicate, so light. You were no weight to carry, but you are still strong and resourceful."

Bethan shrugged. "We are, but we are no match for an invading army, hell bent on destruction. We have learned to live peacefully and harmoniously. We love the pleasures of life, good food, fine wine, wonderful sex, pepper-spice, the sunlight on the lake in the evening, our unicorns. All things that enhance the beauty of this world."

She stood and looked hard at the warrior. "And then you people walk in and bring it all crashing down around us. We surrendered and you still slaughtered. You have imprisoned me, and made me suffer ignominies no-one should suffer, princess or not. Mark my words, Amazon, I will find a way to remove every last one of you from our soil if it takes me to the last breath of my one thousand year existence."

She had managed to keep her voice calm, but the last few words came out ragged and almost in a sob. Izador's lovely eyes had never left hers as she spoke. "Brave words, princess. But you cannot hope to defeat Djinna and her people without my help. I said before, I am your only hope. That is not altogether true - me and my warriors are your only hope. Grant us asylum and a pardon and I will see to it that Djinna and Josefyn get what they deserve." She motioned back to the seat next to her. "Please, sit and hear me out."

Almost reluctantly, Bethan sat back down, this time leaving a space between her and the Amazon. Her proximity disturbed her. She should want to rip her eyes out, but she found her strangely alluring. She took a sip of wine. "I will hear you." Once again she drained the glass, and before Izador could move, she smashed it against the table and held the jagged stem to her own throat. "I will hear you and depending upon what I hear, I will decide whether or not I take my own life here and now."

Izador looked on in shock as a tiny bead of blood appeared at Bethan's throat. Her yellow-green eyes were burning. She composed herself, taking a sip of her own wine. She fixed her captive with a long stare. "Brave indeed. I'd better make sure this is good then, hadn't I? I don't want another death on my hands." She broke her gaze and looked down at her hands, surprised to see herself wringing them together. Her confident voice suddenly seemed small to Bethan. "Right, no pressure then, Izzy. Just tell like it is..."

Act 3 -- Twice-Blessed

Back in her cell, Bethan lay on the cot feeling more elfin than she had felt in ages. She knew she didn't have much time before Djinna or Josefyn came to gloat but she didn't care. It would not be long before she and Samir were back on the throne and the interlopers were run out of her elfdom. She examined the small nick on her left hand. Izador had offered to heal it for her, but she wanted to remember the Warrior oath that the Amazon woman had pledged to her in a ritual ceremony. They had mingled their blood, elf and human. It was sacrosanct to the Amazons. She was in no doubt that she had meant all that she said. She was looking forward to concluding the ritual ceremony in the way that Izador had described.

Izador had explained everything to her. How the humans came, intent on finding the secrets of elfin longevity, how Djinna had been corrupted over years of conquest and conflict. How Izador's warriors were weary and heartsick of constant battle and killing. It had been the Elf's' surrender that had been the final straw. The Amazons were honourable warriors, willing to fight to the last against a well matched foe, but when they were commanded to slaughter innocents after the surrender, it went against their ingrained beliefs. It was beyond the pale. Izador had pleaded with Djinna for the lives of those they had captured but the Queen had refused to listen, saying that the animals had condemned themselves to death through cowardice.

Izador pleaded night and day -- they had surrendered as they had no hope. They wanted to preserve their beautiful elfdom, their towers, their lakes, their forests, and their heritage. In the end, Djinna had threatened Izador herself with The Collar and the slaughter had begun.

The Collar. How many lives had she taken in Djinna's favoured manner? The spring-loaded razor collar was fitted around the neck and the victim was then taken to the highest battlement where it was attached to a long length of chain. They were then poked and prodded until they fell from the edge, screaming as the chain unfurled. The crowds would bay with laughter as the bodies tumbled down. They'd lay bets on whether the executioner had got his sums right. Would the weight of the body be too light for the length of chain, so that the springs would not do their work? In that case the body was left dangling like a ragdoll, the head at a hideous angle. It would be days before the carrion birds had had their fill, when they would be hoisted back up and what little remained was incinerated.

If the calculations were correct, the razors would sever the head as the chain went taut and the body would plummet into the pit below, where the cheering crowds would watch the big cats feasting. Sometimes the victims wore the collars for days before they were taken up. Others were left for hours on the edge of the battlements in sheer terror before the final push. It was all at Djinna's whim.

And Izador's warriors were sickened by it.

One by one, they had come to her begging her to petition Djinna, but her pleas had fallen on deaf ears too many times. She decided then that they needed to sacrifice the few to save the many and had begun hatching a plan to release Bethan and Samir. She had seen the manifests for the next round in a few days time. Samir was on the list. He had served his purpose and Djinna was looking around for new lovers to satisfy her jaded appetites. She already had one in mind -- a dark elf named Mikel.

Bethan had been shocked to learn of Sam's fate, but even more horrified to learn that she had only been in captivity for ten days. It had seemed like an eternity, but it was all part of Djinna's trickery. The collar she wore did not, as she had first suspected, keep her stupefied; it was worse than that. It slowed time so that every day she endured became a week to her. Only during her minimal contact with others did time return to normal. Izador had removed that curse from her, but she'd need to be careful in the coming few days to make sure it was not discovered.

A few days -- hopefully enough time for Izador's mages to find a way of nullifying the effects of her collar and restore her powers. And also to nullify the possibility of Djinna triggering the collar's other secret -- the release of powerful toxins that would kill Bethan in an agonizing, paralysing hour of hell. 'Just another little random scenario to factor into the equation,' she thought sourly, feeling the tightness of the collar all the more now she was aware of its last secret.

At least Mikel was safe too. For now. Another straw to cling on to as she fought to stay above the surface.

Bethan moved on her cot and felt the deep welts on her buttocks, back and thighs. The spell Izador had cast on her bonds made them feel much lighter and she could move more easily, something else that she would need to cover up. Under normal circumstances, she would be unable to bear the pain, but more of Izador's healing spells meant that she was almost numb when she began to tear at her with a cat o'nine tails. It still felt hideous; feeling her flesh rip, though thank the Gods there was no accompanying pain. Izador assured her that they would disappear within a few hours -- they were only meant to last until the inevitable inspection took place. The final enchantment was her severed tail. It felt odd to look down at the bloody stump, but still be able to feel the rest of the tail in her hand. The pigs blood that streaked the inside of her thighs and anus was a minor indignity compared to the rest and all added to the illusion of her torture.

When Izador had finished her story, Bethan had let the glass slip from her fingers and covered her face in her hands, sobbing. It was her final revelation that had tipped her over the edge she had been hanging on to by metaphorical fingertips for the last hour.

Izador's voice had held calmly and evenly throughout her tale, but as she reached the end, her voice cracked a little. "Bethan, thank you for hearing me. But there is one last confession I need to make." The ragged edge of the glass was still at her throat. "What I am about to say makes it all the more critical for me that you do not use that..." She pointed at the razor sharp edge held in Bethan's long, trembling fingers.

Bethan had hardly spoken since Izador had begun. She now whispered, "I am less inclined. But go on. I need to hear it all..."

Izador continued. "I pray this does not go the wrong way for me, but the truth is that on the day of the surrender I saw a fleeting glimpse of a young elfin girl being taken to the dungeons in chains. In that brief moment, I realised that she was the most beautiful creature I had ever laid eyes on. I fell hopelessly in love with her -- her bearing, her eyes, her hair..." She faltered and Bethan realised she was crying. She continued, her voice shaking. "Me, a supposedly feared Amazon warrior, capable of killing with a single finger, reduced to a quivering jelly by an elfin girl." Bethan's yellow eyes were getting wider by the second. Izador let out a small, humourless laugh. "I was supposed to be rounding up the first batch of Collar victims, and all I could think of were those little pointed ears, and that cute little tail."

Bethan's free hand was now to her mouth in shock, her little fangs chewing nervously on a fingernail. Izador gestured to her. "I hadn't seen those pretty little nibblers at the time; otherwise I'd have had you there and then." She shook her head. "Oh Gods, it took me five days to discover who you were and another five to arrange this."

She paused.

"I am done. I can say no more." She pulled the hair from her neck and leaned towards Bethan. "If you still feel the need to use that glass, use it on me first, I beg of you."

Bethan let the shard slip from her fingers. She cried for a long time. Izador let her get it all out, not saying a word. When she had subsided, her yellow eyes were red-rimmed, her beautiful face streaked with tears. She wiped her snub nose on her sleeve. Izador reached forward and touched her face gently. The tears disappeared and her eyes returned to their beautiful, mesmerising colour.

Elves seldom swore, thinking it a human trait and beneath them. Bethan looked at Izador. "Oh, fuck. Did you have to lay that last bit on me?"

Izador cast her gaze down. "I know, I'm sorry. I realise you could never love me after what I have done. Just to know you don't hate me and do not wish me dead would be some succour. You are one with Samir anyway. It is a futile hope on my part."

Bethan had regained some of her composure, but was still shaking slightly. The warrior woman was strikingly beautiful, she had to admit. After what had seemed to her like seventy days in her cell, she was longing for an intimate touch. She was almost shocked when she heard her own voice, small and tremulous. "We elves can love many. We find it hard to hate. We can forgive, although we never forget." She stood before the human and slipped out of the white shift. Her tail curled around across her flat stomach and she heard Izador gasp and swallow hard.

She moved away towards Izador's bed in the middle of the room, holding her hand out behind her. "So, come Izador the Amazon Warrior. Show this princess just how much you love her. Make her feel elfin again. Make her heart sing. When an elf reaches climax, it is the sweetest sound you will ever hear." She smiled. "Let me bring sweetness to your inferior little human ears." She lay down and waited.

Izador moved slowly towards her, removing her gauze shirt to reveal a mass of ornate tattoos and livid scars. It was Bethan's turn to gasp as she saw them. The warrior stopped in her tracks, tracing her finger along one of the myriad scars. "I could have them healed properly, but they are a badge of honour. I could tell you the story behind each of them. Gladly there are none from this misguided campaign."

She continued on until she reached the bed. She towered over Bethan. "Please, call me Izzy. Izador is the warrior, Izzy is the lover. It is time she saw more daylight. I like her better these days." She removed her golden band and her hair cascaded down around her in a black whirlpool. "There is one last revelation, elf." She removed her leggings and Bethan gasped a second time.

She was a hermaphrodite.

Her erect member was a fine specimen, nowhere near the size of Samir or her other elfin lovers, but good enough. Beneath it, there was a perfect vagina, the folds of it wet and inviting.

Bethan had heard rumours - more like legends - that these creatures existed, but never thought it true. She swallowed hard. The woman was utterly glorious -- those slanted eyes; full, beautiful breasts, hair to her waist. And then the two things she couldn't break her eyes away from. Her pupils were now like pin pricks in her astonishing yellow eyes.

Izador spoke, her voice hushed. "I am what some call Twice-Blessed, others Twice-Cursed. When you are making love to a beautiful woman and a man is making love to you, it is indeed Twice-Blessed. It can be a curse when lovers run from you screaming in horror, but the Twice-Cursed -- the impotence -- I can live with that. No warrior woman needs mewling brats." She sighed and closed her eyes. "So now you have seen me in all my glory, what say you, Bethan the elf princess? Will you run or will you lie with this Twice-Blessed Amazon woman?"

In answer, Bethan held out an arm and entwined her long, elegant fingers around Izador's cock, sliding them down until she could stroke her wet folds beneath. "These last seventy days are what you humans would call 'shit'. I am far too polite and well brought up to say that. But thank the Gods, things are at last looking better and today I finally feel hope. Izzy the Lover sounds to me more appealing than Izador the Warrior, so please, Izzy - feel free to use either or both of your magnificent pieces of equipment to give me what I believe you vulgar humans call 'a damned good seeing to.'"

Act 4 -- Ceremony

Bethan was sleeping soundly for the first time in weeks, real or imagined, when the cell door opened. Her nightmare of a burning Amberdown had not interrupted her slumber and she was grateful for that. A fleeting memory of Izzy was shattered by the purring drawl of the cat woman, Josefyn.

"Ah, the Sleeping Ugly awakes! Stand up, dear. Let me see what that awful Amazon woman did to you. Take your filthy little shirt off, let me see the damage!"

Bethan rose as if in agony, staggering to her feet and tripping over her ankle shackles for effect. She hauled herself up, grabbing in mock pain at her apparently severed tail. Josefyn was doubled over with laughter. She took a sip from a huge vial of Elfwine and dragged deeply on her pepper-spice glass. "Oh, she did do a number on you, didn't she? I hope that hideous tail of your goes septic before it grows back. Fucking pathetic little thing. That..." she turned around and waved her sleek grey tail, thick as her wrist, at Bethan. "...that is a fucking tail, darling."

Bethan was whimpering, pretending she was in agony. There was a residual dull feeling across her wounds but Izzy's spells had so far done their work. After more wine and spice, Josefyn went on. "Just need to freshen them up a little!" She began slapping Bethan's buttocks and she screamed and begged her to stop, acting her part well. Josefyn spun her round and began to claw at her apparently bleeding pubic area and anus, cackling with glee. Bethan hated the feel of her, but at least there was no pain. She pleaded with her to leave her in peace, but the cat woman was on a roll and kept up her onslaught. Finally, she pulled her down over the cot and beckoned one of the guards into the cell. Bethan tensed, knowing what was coming. "I'd do it to you myself dear, but you repulse me. Not that Samir, though. We'll make sure he gets well used until he falls off the battlements on Djinnasday. Then it's over to that delicious dark-elf. Mikel is it? Another of your favourites, I believe. Think of him as we use him as we please!"

The guard moved into place, pulling down his breeches. She slapped him on his bare arse. "Go on, give her hell."

Again Bethan took herself to a better place and time. At least now it was a place and time from an hour or so ago. Mechanically, she made all the right noises, barely aware she was whimpering and pleading. She hoped the pig's blood would do nasty things to the guard's flabby little excuse. Izzy's spells dulled her senses as he slapped her torn buttocks as he rode her.

It was quick as ever. Josefyn was rubbing herself gleefully as the guard retreated. She threw him a coin and he grunted some sort of thank-you. Bethany sat back on her cot, weeping for effect. Soon this would be over and Josefyn would be the one screaming and weeping in agony.

The cat woman finished herself off with a purring rasp. She held up the last of her vial of wine. There was an inch or so in the bottom. "Beg for, it, bitch."

Bethan fixed her yellow eyes on her green ones. Had she not had her fill of Elfwine with Izzy, she would be begging, but she stared the cat woman down until she tipped the contents of the vial onto the filthy floor of the cell.

"Yours if you want it darling. I'm not wasting any more time on you. We'll give you a couple of days to heal, and then Izador can have her way with you again." As she walked from the cell, she turned, her finger on her cheek, pondering. She waved her hand in the air. "Although, I must tell her not to be so fucking gentle next time. Bye, sweetie!"