The Girl in the Iron Mask

I've become so used to the regular pattern of our journey that I don't immediately realise when we reach our destination. Suddenly, I feel the box being lowered to the ground. To my great surprise, the lid of the casket is opened, and I'm blinded by the light. Maeve is there looking down at me. She holds a cloth over her nose to shield her from the foul smell.

"Clean the girl up," says Maeve to one of the Fae around her. "I'll not have my palace polluted by this filth. Bring her to me when you're done. Don't let her out of this box or you'll regret the day you were born."

A Fae female wearing an iron collar like mine shuffles forward. I can't see her feet, but I can hear the sound of dragging chain. Is this the person who has fed me during the journey? She looks at me with a hint of sympathy mixed with fear. Maeve and the other Fae leave her to her task. The female's first action is to test my chains, and to check that the additional chains attaching my ankles to the casket are still secure. I couldn't leave this casket even if I was in a fit enough state to do so. She takes out a knife and cuts my few remaining clothes to shreds. Then she lifts the rags away, filth and all and places them in a sack. I'm left naked apart from the iron mask and fetters adorning my body.

She disappears for a moment, only to return carrying a bucket of water which she tips into the box. The process is repeated several times, until the level of the water threatens to drown me. She grabs hold of the chain linked to my collar and pulls me into a standing position. I'm wobbly on my legs and she holds my chain tight until I'm steady on my feet. I can't leave the box because of the restraints around my ankles, but it nevertheless feels like freedom. I reach down into my inner self to see if I can feel my magic power returning. Nothing. The iron mask and fetters are sufficient in themselves to prevent me from restoring my power. The iron casket isn't necessary to contain my power, it's only purpose is to break me to Maeve's will.

The Fae female scrubs the inside of the casket with a brush before turning her attentions to me. She produces a cloth and proceeds to wipe the dirt from my body. She avoids touching my back with the cloth, but rinses clean water over my wounds. The pain is nothing like as bad as when Cairn finished his brutal work on my back. Once she's cleaned everywhere she can reach, she scoops the water out of the iron box with her bucket and tips it into a channel in the yard where we are located.

Then she repeats the whole process again. This time she pour water over my face, which is the closest either of us can get to washing it. Once she's satisfied that her task is complete, she signals to another Fae female who has arrived in the meantime. The new arrival inspects the first female's work and then tells her to leave. This one is free of fetters and is better dressed than her predecessor. She locks an iron chastity belt around my lower parts before spraying some strong smelling liquid over my face. It's a familiar smell but it takes me a few moments to recognise it. It's the stirring sensation in my loins that reminds me of what it is. It's the same smell Rowan emits when we're having sex. Only ten times stronger. I try to clamp down on my unwilling reaction, but the scent is so strong that I can't prevent the effect on my body. Despite my predicament, I'm reaching an extreme state of sexual arousal. I play with my erect nipples even though I know doing so will only fuel my arousal. The chastity belt prevents me from obtaining the release I desperately need.

I'm so intent on satisfying my burning need for sexual pleasure that I barely notice what is happening. I don't object when the female orders me to lie down. She closes the lid of the box and locks it shut. My hands reach between my legs and I try to satisfy my burning need. But the chastity belt is far too effective to allow me to pleasure myself at all. I try moving my loins in the hope that the pressure of my swelling cunt against the curved iron bar between my legs will trigger a release. But the chastity belt is as well designed as this casket. I'm a helpless slave. I'm panting in frustration by the time someone arrives to take my casket into Maeve's presence.

The journey is mercifully short, although I don't fool myself into thinking that I'll be allowed to come when we reach our destination. I can only hope the male sex scent will dissipate soon, and allow me to regain control of my body. The casket is placed upright and I stop my desperate play only long enough to steady myself within my prison. Unable to find satisfaction between my legs, I've returned to playing with my breasts. It doesn't really help as it simply drives me wilder with lust and desire.

Then the lid to my casket is unlocked and slid open. A Fae male rushes forward and unfastens the chains keeping my ankles bound to the casket. He then pulls me forward. I'm inside Maeve's throne room. Maeve is sat on her throne a few metres before me. A dozen or so elegantly dressed Fae are standing in a line either side of her. More Fae are gathered behind them, and armed Fae stand at strategic points around the room.

"Welcome to Doranelle, Aelin," sneers Maeve. "Let my loyal subjects witness the submission of the Queen of Terrasen to her new mistress. Bow before me as you did on the sands of Eyllwe."

I halt my indecent pleasuring of my nipples to stare at the Fae Queen. I'm helpless for the moment but my spirit remains strong. Maeve won't break me that easily. She must sense my resistance and she leans forward so her face is level with mine. She produces a small key and holds it before my eyes. It's the key to my chastity belt.

"Do as I say, Aelin, and just this once I'll grant you the pleasure you are desperately seeking," she says so only I can hear. "Refuse and I'll have you sprayed with the mist every ten minutes until you do. How long do you think you can last with that yearning in your loins?"

Not long. I know that for sure. The scent is what makes Fae couplings so physical. My innards are craving for release, and no amount of physical pain is going to dampen that need. Cairn could whip me to a pulp and I'd still feel aroused. My legs are already wet with my desire. I look helplessly at the Fae Queen as she runs her hands over my breasts. She has me at her mercy and the sinister smile on her face tells me she already knows my response. I drop to my knees as gracefully as I can manage in my heavy fetters, and debase myself before my new mistress.

"Rise, slave, and display your gratitude before my subjects."

I struggle to my feet and Maeve unlocks my belt. My hands promptly dart between my legs and moments later a flood from my loins proves my wantonness. Maeve is my mistress now. I was a fool to ever think otherwise.

Chapter 3: Torment

My senses gradually return to normal. I look around Maeve's throne room at the crowd gathered for the sole purpose of witnessing my humiliation. I've submitted to Maeve in the most degrading way imaginable. The eyes of my audience show no hint of sympathy towards my plight. These Fae may understand how I've been forced into debasing myself but Maeve holds their unquestioning loyalty.

Maeve pays her subjects no mind. She quickly locks my chastity belt back in place and returns to her throne. On her command I do my best to stand up straight. My heavy fetters make it nearly impossible, but I try to restore some of my dignity. With the spectacle over, Maeve dismisses her audience and moments later the chamber is emptied of all but a few retainers. Maeve watches me as I stand helpless before her. I begin to wonder what she is doing until I sense the subtle touch of her magic on my senses. She's tried this trick once before, and was surprised when she realised that I could detect her invasion. Despite all the iron encasing me, and the exhausted state of my power, I can still sense her magic touch.

"Interesting," says Maeve. "Perhaps you aren't as helpless as you appear, slave. Now tell me what you have done with the two wyrdkeys you had in your possession."

My earlier moment of weakness has passed once I achieved an orgasm. My spirit remains strong despite my hopeless situation. I refuse to answer Maeve's question. Instead I glare at her. At least as much of a glare my iron mask allows me to display.

"Hah! You resist. How disappointing. Very well, I can see that another lesson is required."

Maeve issues orders to one of her attendants, who promptly leaves on the mission he's been given. I don't need to wait for long. Cairn appears in an unseemly rush. He must have been promised an opportunity to strip more of my skin from my body with his whip. The man disgusts me. But he's a predictable enemy. Maeve, on the other hand, is an enemy full of surprises. I can never tell what she will do next.

"Last chance to talk, slave," sneers Maeve. "Talk and you will deny Cairn his pleasure."

Maeve will have to try harder than that if she wants me to talk to her. I didn't yield to Cairn's brutality on the beach in Eyllwe; I shan't do so now.

But yet again Maeve proves her unpredictability. She signals for the fettered female who had cleaned me to come forward. She appears from some hidden alcove at the back of the room. With her is a young Fae female who's about my age.

"This is Noor, and her daughter Nisa," says Maeve. "Noor made the mistake of trying to defy me once. So I punish her regularly to remind her of her error. She's improving. Now she obeys my commands without question. Don't you Noor?"

"Yes, Lady," replies Noor meekly.

"Good. Remove Nisa's clothing."

Both Noor and Nisa look at Maeve in shock. But Noor is a broken slave to Maeve's desires, and she only hesitates for a moment before obeying the command she's been given. Nisa shows more resistance, but she too knows she cannot refuse. Once Nisa is naked, Maeve orders her to stand in the middle of the room and place her hands on her head. I must be the last person in the room to realise what is about to happen. I find it too horrifying to contemplate, even of Maeve. Only when Cairn unfurls his whip and moves towards where Nisa is standing to I realise the depths of cruelty Maeve is capable of sinking.

"See what your defiance of me has wrought," sneers Maeve to me. "Answer my question and you will spare Nisa from unnecessary suffering. The responsibility for her fate is on your shoulders alone. You have five seconds to consider."

Cairn moves into position and I quickly look into Noor and Nisa's eyes. Noor shows no emotion at all, but Nisa is silently pleading for me to save her. I can't tolerate this cruelty.

"Stop," I cry. "I'll answer your questions."

"That's better, slave. I'm sure Nisa will thank you later. Three lashes, Cairn."

"My pleasure, Lady," replies Cairn.

"Wait!" I cry. "You said you would spare her."

"No. I said your obedience would save Nisa from unnecessary suffering. Had you continued to defy me, then her punishment would have been far worse. But you defied me to begin with, so recompense is due. It's entirely your fault. Begin, Cairn."

"Then let me endure the punishment," I reply. "Spare Nisa."

"How touching," laughs Maeve. "But I will gain nothing by allowing Cairn to beat you into a pulp. I've far better ways to ensure your compliance. But don't worry. I'm sure you will feel the kiss of Cairn's whip before very long."

I try to move forward to shield Nisa. But she is too far away and I can only shuffle forward in my heavy fetters. Three lashes might appear to be a light punishment compared to the punishments the slaves of Endovier endured, but Cairn is capable of inflicting excruciating pain in a single stroke. Nisa cries out in agony as the first of Cairn's strokes lands. She drops her arms to protect her body.

"Count the strokes, Nisa," commands Maeve. "And keep your hands on your head, or we'll add more lashes to your punishment."

"One," mumbles Nisa once she's restored her composure and position.

"Louder, Nisa. My new slave didn't hear you."

"One," calls Nisa in a louder voice.

There's a slight hint of defiance in her tone which Maeve might have detected. Cairn changes position slightly for the second blow. Another cry of pain, but Nisa holds her position.

"Two," says Nisa, holding back her tears.

The third stroke is positioned to aggravate the first two wounds. Nisa yells out in agony and collapses to the floor. She can no longer hold back her tears. Noor looks as though she wishes to run to her daughter's aid, but her fear and her training holds Noor firmly in her place.

"Stand up, Nisa," snaps Maeve. "I'll not have weaklings working in my palace. I didn't hear you count the stroke. It seems as though she requires another one, Cairn."

Cairn can barely hold back his glee. But he must wait until Nisa is in position. To her credit Nisa struggles to her feet after only a few seconds and dries her eyes. She refuses to give Maeve the belated call of the third stroke. She'd be too late anyway. Nisa prepares herself for a fourth. It comes with all the brutality Cairn can muster. Blood sprays across the floor. But Nisa doesn't cry out and she defiantly holds her position, although only with great difficulty.

"Three," calls Nisa, in as clear a voice as she can summon.

"Good," says Maeve. "You may leave and attend to your other duties, Cairn. Noor; clean my throne room floor of your brat's blood."

I dread to think what other duties Cairn might have been assigned. He is only capable of one type of task. Nisa is left standing where she is, trembling from the pain racking her body. Maeve moves across to where Nisa is standing and examines her wounds carefully. Then Maeve shows a small amount of mercy. She uses her magic to seal Nisa's wounds.

"We'll leave a few faint scars to remind you never to speak to me again with defiance in your voice," says Maeve once she's completed her healing. "Now get out of my sight."

Nisa doesn't need telling twice. She grabs her clothes and rushes out of the room. Noor is ignored as she washes the floor of her daughter's blood. Maeve turns her attention to me.

"See how kind and generous I can be, slave," says Maeve with an insincere smile on her face. "Now I believe you owe me an answer. Where are the two wyrdkeys you had in your possession."

"I don't know," I reply. "I haven't seen them since we departed from the shores of Eyllwe."

"Fool! I know that. I've personally searched everything you were wearing when you surrendered to me. Even the disgusting rags Noor stripped from your body. I don't know how you managed to slip the wyrdkeys to one of your friends, but it'll do you no good in the long run. You will recover them for me in due course. Once I'm satisfied that you're truly mine to command. So let's begin your training. Who are you?"

"Aelin Galathynius, Queen of Terrasen," I reply defiantly.

"Wrong answer," snaps Maeve. "You no longer have a name, title or home. You are simply 'Slave' until I choose to give you a name. My slave. Mine to do as I will. So, let's try again. Who are you?"

"Aelin Galathynius, Queen of Terrasen."

"Pah! I can see that we've a lot of work to do. But there's time, and I've all the patience in the world. Your former friends will keep Erawan occupied until I'm ready. Your defiance will only result in the needless deaths of innocents. You are cruel beyond belief."

"You're the cruel one, Maeve," I retort.

"Yes, I'm cruel. I admit it. It's the only way to rule the Fae. But you are just as cruel to allow those you supposedly care about from facing Erawan's hordes alone. You only need to willingly submit to me, and I will see that their suffering ends."

Maeve only wants to replace one kind of suffering with another. But she is so convinced of her righteousness that she will never admit it.

"Return to your box," says Maeve abruptly. "You need time to think about your situation. We'll resume your training later."

Upon Maeve's signal, two Fae guards come rushing over to where I'm standing and haul me into my iron prison. They lock my ankle chains to the end of the box and seal the lid. A few minutes later I'm carried away.

I'm left alone lying on my back. Daylight streams through the small holes above my face, but I've no means of knowing whether I'm outside, or in one of the many high vaulted areas that I recall from my previous visit to Doranelle. Nobody comes near me and I am forced to endure hours of boredom. My only consolation is that the wounds on my back seem to be healing faster than they ought. When I'm in my Fae form, the fast-healing properties of Fae bodies have helped me recover from wounds. But I've never previously experienced the same phenomenon while I'm in my human form. Since I'm trapped in my human form until my power is restored, I'm not complaining.

Boredom is now my biggest enemy. I let my mind drift onto more pleasant matters to pass the time. My friends should now be well clear of any immediate threat from Maeve. Her nonchalance about the missing wyrdkeys is one of her many lies. Even one wyrdkey could be used to give her extra powers. Two would make her almost invincible. Her own considerable powers are enough to control the Fae and, as she has demonstrated, she's powerful enough to entrap me on her own. But she can't maintain control over me and her realm while at the same time chasing across the Northern Continent looking for the wyrdkeys. That's why she needs me broken to her will. I can sense the wyrdkeys and track them down. It's a power which Maeve lacks.

My thoughts drift inevitably to Rowan. I really miss him. But I hope he won't be so foolish as to try and rescue me. He's needed in Terrasen to fight the advancing hordes of Erawan. I promised to raise an army to defend Terrasen, and I delivered on that promise. But an army needs leaders and Rowan is one of them.

I realise too late that my thoughts are leading me into fresh problems. When Maeve's earlier trickery aroused me to wantonness, she found the weakest point in my defences. Thoughts of Rowan possessing my yielding body are what drove me into a state of wild abandon. I fear that my mind is capable of recreating those feelings all by itself. And it's doing so now. I resist. I resist as hard as I can. I think of Cairn and his cruel whip. I think of Maeve forcing me to degrade myself further and further into the depths of depravity. My attempts to divert my mind work up to a point, but it isn't enough. I find myself again pressing my loins against the unyielding bar of my chastity belt. A familiar moistness wets my cunt. No! I must stop this. Stop it now.

My breasts yearn for my touch. My nipples go as hard as stone, itching for some form of contact. But I resist. The moment I give in to my base desires, then I'll be unable to stop. My Fae blood may have somehow granted me a chance to heal my wounds faster, but it has left me at the mercy of a Fae's carnal desires. In Fae form, I could easily control those desires, but my human form has no resistance to the spiralling effect of Fae mating instincts.

For half an hour I resist the urges coursing through my body. Tragically it is the arrival of my next meal that breaks my defence. The familiar sound of a chain being dragged across the floor alerts me to Noor's arrival. She opens the hatch and tosses a piece of bread into my box. I move quickly to catch the bread, but in doing so run my chains across my nipples. It's enough to send an uncontrollable spasm through my body. Before I can stop myself I'm eating the bread while playing with my breasts. It's a route that can lead to only one outcome.

Tears of frustration stream down my face. How many hours have I been at the brink of an orgasm but unable to tip myself over the edge into blissful release. It's dark now and most people will be asleep. Apart from twice being interrupted by the arrival of food and water, I've spent a large part of the day driving myself insane with lust and desire. Rowan once warned me of the dangers of reaching this emotional state in my Fae form. Neither of us believed it would affect me like this as a human. There's no easy way down from these heights without satisfying my cravings. In human form a cold bath would probably dampen my ardour. In Fae form it would only increase it even more. I may appear to be human, but at the moment my emotions are pure Fae.