Willow in the Plinth

First aside:

Dear Reader, somewhere there is a magical realm populated by an immortal race, the Wom. When they grow tired of life, they sleep for years where they dream of an existence in a world very much like our own, a life-dream. In those dreams they fight and discover and struggle and love and fret about the day that the dream ends.

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"You'll need to take off all your clothes," the attendant said.

"What?"

"Your clothes. You have to be naked if you want an audience with the Sorceress of Belmar."

Beryl sighed and looked down at her cloak and leggings and boots.

"It's not so much a precaution for the Sorceress' safety, but for yours," the attendant explained.

Reluctantly, Beryl began to remove her clothes, placing them in a box that the attendant provided. She pulled off her hooded cloak and her soft soled leather boots. She pushed her pants to the floor. She paused for a moment, clad only in a chemise and a brief panty, sighing once again.

The attendant stood waiting patiently.

Beryl pulled the chemise over her head and stepped out of her panties, finally standing up tall again.

"Your jewelry as well," the attendant said, emotionlessly pointing at the heavy metal cuff wrapped around Beryl's left wrist.

"It's locked on," she said, holding it up. A thin chain with a small key dangled from a narrow ring on one side of the cuff.

"Is that not the key?" the attendant asked.

"No. That is the key to my lover's cuff," Beryl said, holding her arm for the attendant's inspection. The attendant tried to shift the cuff on Beryl's arm, but it was tight and form fitting. The lock was quite secure.

"Okay. But also, you'll need to wear these. They will not come off until you leave the Sorceress's presence." The attendant was holding two clips in the palm of her hand made of gold metal, each with a purple jewel.

"Where do they go... Hey!" Beryl squeaked. The attendant had grabbed her right breast gently, but firmly and applied one of the clips to the nub of her nipple. "Owww!" The clamping part of the clip was a small cylinder that slipped around the nipple. When the attendant released her grip the cylinder tightly constricted the captured flesh. Soon, and with another quiet exclamation of discomfort, Beryl's left nipple was equally adorned.

"Why..." Beryl began to ask.

"These are the conditions," the attendant said, and she bent to place a sturdy lid on the box that contained Beryl's clothes.

"Oh, wait!" Beryl said as she cupped her left breast. "I need the parchment from the pocket of the cloak!"

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Beryl braced herself as the large doors to the Altar of the Sorceress of Belmar opened before her.

"The Sorceress will see you now," the attendant said. "Proceed towards the wall of flames."

Beryl nodded and walked into the cavernous room, the heavy doors slowly sealing behind her. The space was dark, lit only by burning torches set in large columns equally spaced along the approach towards a wall of purple flames reaching perhaps ten meters high or more.

Looking up, the columns rose into the darkness disappearing long before reaching the ceiling. Beryl wrapped her arms around her body and set off down the length of the hollow. There was a breeze that fluctuated between warm and cool that seemed to lick at her naked flesh. Still she felt goosebumps ripple across her torso and she pressed the parchment to her chest protectively. Her bare feet whispered along the stone floor, answered only by the fluttering of the flames. With every step, it felt like the weight of the clamps amplified the resultant movement of her breasts. Oddly, her nipples felt like they were being suckled in a distracting manner.

Though only a couple of minutes passed, the walk seemed to take forever.

She could feel the heat from the wall of purple flames as she drew closer to the far end of the hall. She was relieved when the flames slowly lowered, revealing a deep alcove with a throne set high on a stone plinth.

Beryl stopped well short of the meters-wide metal grate in the floor. Heat radiated from the flames which still crackled somewhere beneath. She looked up to the throne upon which sat a woman dressed in regal robes and jewelry.

Beryl knelt on one knee and bowed her head. "Thank you for this audience, Sorceress."

"Stand," the sorceress said calmly. "Let us talk as two women."

Beryl stood and looked around. She felt so small and exposed, and too, the sorceress was renowned for great feats of magic. The room's arrangement screamed that a particular power dynamic was at play. They were definitely NOT going to be interacting like two friends at a bar. Beryl cleared her throat and looked up to the sorceress sitting above her.

"I... My..." Beryl had thought of what she was going to say, but the moment that she looked into the sorceress's eyes, which seemed to sparkle a purple color similar in hue to the flames, her mind went completely blank. "Someone stole my slave and I have traced her to your... uh... I mean..."

"I'm sorry," the sorceress said with no malice. "I purchase all my slaves on the markets. I have no need to steal a slave."

"What I mean is that someone stole my slave. We're... I'm from the Realm of Harlow. She... the slave... was stolen and brought here and sold in the local markets, probably about four months ago," Beryl explained.

"Well, it sounds as though your grievance is with the thief," the sorceress said.

"Oh! I have already tracked her down," Beryl explained.

"Well, Harlow has a good justice system. You should receive a healthy recompense. Enough to afford an upgrade," the sorceress said.

"But... but..." Beryl took a slight step forward, before remembering the metal grate and the purple glow from below. "This slave was special to me. Her name is Willow..."

"We generally assign new names to slaves if there is a need to call them anything at all," the sorceress said. "But, I will ask..." She reached to the side of the throne and pulled on a velvet rope. Somewhere beyond the sorceress, Beryl heard a bell ring. She swore she felt a buzzing at her nipples as the bell rang.

Suddenly, Beryl remembered the parchment that, thus far, she had pressed against her naked breasts. "I've got a notice," Beryl explained, unfolding the parchment, "with Queen Isabel's seal which has been extremely helpful..."

A woman came sprinting into the alcove from a hidden entryway. She wore only a short pelvic curtain held in place by a narrow tie. She ran with her arms behind her back - each hand holding the opposite elbow. Luckily for her, she had smaller breasts which only jiggled slightly, unsupported as they were, as she made her way up to the throne. The sorceress leant over and whispered to the runner, who nodded, then turned and sprinted back out of the alcove.

"My attendant will go and inquire about this slave named Willow," the sorceress said.

"Thank you!" Beryl replied. "You don't..."

"What were you saying about Queen Isabel?" the sorceress asked.

"Oh! I have this notice which has allowed me to..."

"Hold it out," the sorceress said.

Beryl looked down through the metal grate at the purple glow below.

"Come now!" the sorceress said, a little more loudly.

"Sorry... just..." Beryl slowly held the parchment out. Almost immediately, the parchment slipped through her fingers despite her firm grip. It sailed over the grate and into the sorceress' hand. The sorceress examined the seal and opened the parchment, taking time to review the text.

"Queen Isabel speaks highly of you...," the sorceress said as she continued to read.

"That's good to hear," Beryl replied. "I'm not familiar with the script that she used, so I wasn't sure exactly what she wrote. Ooo!" She swore that she felt fingers pinch both of her nipples simultaneously. She reached up and pressed her bejeweled nipples in her palms.

The sprinter came back into the alcove and whispered to the sorceress. They seemed to share a lengthy discourse, but Beryl could not hear anything that was said. Finally, the sorceress sat up and the sprinter knelt on the ground beside the throne, her eyes fixed on the floor just in front of her.

"No," the sorceress said.

"Uh... I'm not sure I understand..." Beryl said.

"No. I will not relinquish the slave who was once called Willow. She has been co-opted into my current project. I will speak succinctly. She can not be extracted from her current role."

"But..." Beryl said, growing angry, despite her surroundings.Her hands dropping from her breasts and forming fists. "But... we are lovers. I love her."

"I have already told you. She cannot be extracted from her current situation," the sorceress said evenly and patiently. "I'm sorry that your lover was stolen from you. But, she is no longer yours."

"What is she..." Beryl had to concentrate to keep from becoming flustered. She took a deep breath which seemed to cause another buzz to erupt from her nipples. "Perhaps, I can reclaim her after your project is complete? Or maybe I can perform some task..."

"She is not simply temporarily engaged. She is utterly enmeshed in my current project. She is installed."

"N... No! That is not... Oww!" Beryl grabbed her nipples which felt like they just been briefly pinched with some degree of force. "What is doing that!?"

"I do not understand what you are saying," the sorceress said. "Please speak clearly."

Beryl grunted in exasperation, but quickly collected herself. She knew that she could not allow herself to become emotional. "I believe that the notice that Queen Isabel sent pleads for any possible help that may be required to correct the wrong that has been done to me and my slave."

The sorceress frowned and flapped the parchment around a bit, looking down at the text once more. She said something to the runner kneeling by her throne. The runner jumped up and ran off once again, disappearing behind the throne.

"I believe that my Queen's Realm of Harlow and your beloved Realm of Belmar have enjoyed many years of peace and cooperation..." Beryl started.

"Are you suggesting that a single inconsequential slave might upset that relationship?" the sorceress asked, leaning a bit more forward.

"Oh! No! Definitely not, Sorceress!" Beryl said. "I just meant that... Mmmmm!" Beryl raised her hand to her left breast. The clip had begun vibrating and the stimulation seemed to splash forth through her flesh like a wave, deep into her sex. "Mmm-excuse me... Umm..." She felt blood flush into her labia, her lower lips blossoming... "I was... I was just hoping that with the strong lines of communication between our realms, we could find a solution to extracting my slave from your... your... project?"

The first runner sprinted back to the throne followed by a second identically adorned, indeed, perhaps even a twin of the first. The second runner carried a scepter, a gold staff with an ornate head featuring a large purple jewel. The sorceress lay the parchment to her side and took hold of the scepter.

"I'm afraid that your distress has perhaps made it difficult for you to understand my words," the sorceress said, calmly. "So, let me speak as clearly as possible. The slave, who you refer to as Willow, has been enmeshed. That is, she has been subjected to a particular degree of bondage which can not be undone. Which shall not be undone."

The clips at Beryl's nipples both began to vibrate powerfully. The buzzing even began to fill her ears. She began to speak, but only let forth a croaking sound. Her mouth had gone dry. Her heart was pounding. Regardless, she was determined. "Willow and I are in love! If we could speak with her, I am certain that she is willing to undergo whatever disarticulation is necessary."

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Second aside:

Dear Reader, as your kind narrator, I should note that as the inhabitants of this universe are divine, they are capable of surviving severe injuries, regenerating anew with a little time and rest. For example, it is not uncommon for an amputation to be required in order to extract a slave from her bonds - a pair of keyless metal cuffs that restrain one's arms behind one's back, or even a tight metal ring pounded into stone pinning a slave about her midriff. The remedy is a last resort as the process is particularly unpleasant, but a solution always exists. There is always a way to undo what we mortals may view as an act with irrevocable consequences. And, after the extraction, the missing limb fully regrows once more. This is what Beryl meant when she suggested a "disarticulation". Let us resume...

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"I said," the sorceress said - her voice a bit more forceful, "The slave you refer to as Willow has been subjected to a particular degree of bondage which can not be undone. And..." the sorceress paused."Which SHALL NOT be undone."

"But, she is my slave," Beryl said. "Mine! Ow!" Beryl's hands, which had momentarily been folded into fists at her sides, once again grasped her breasts. "What the fu...? Why are these clips squeezing my...? Oww!" She tried to remove the clip attached to her right nipple, but quickly stopped when an electrostatic charge popped brightly from her breast to hand. "Stop this, please!"

"We use the clips to ensure your safety," the sorceress explained calmly. "They are designed to distract a person who is showing signs of violence or malicious intent. They will derail a person who desires to resort to violence for whatever reason."

"But...," Beryl took a series of deep breaths. "I am quite aware that you are a powerful sorceress. You are legendary. I have no illusion that I could do anything that would harm you. I... I'm just a humble citizen asking... begging for my slave... my lover... please, Sorceress..." A tear dropped from each of Beryl's eyes. "Please..."

"We, each of us, are indeed" the sorceress stated, with a dramatic pause, "different. Some of us are endowed with great intelligence, some with great beauty or dexterity or strength. I," the sorceress continued, "have an inordinate talent with magic." She raised her scepter above her head and four balls of purple light shot up towards the darkened ceiling, popping like fireworks and fading.

After smiling briefly, the sorceress continued. "And so, it would seem, this slave, who you refer to as Willow, has a particular gift. She has a quality which makes her... different from an average citizen. She is an outlier."

Beryl grimaced. She felt that she knew exactly what the sorceress was talking about. She and Willow had been Mistress and slave for many years. How could she not know what the sorceress would say next?

"This slave... Willow... she is particularly sensual. Her response to physical stimulation is unparalleled. Her capability for erotic arousal is... well, it is immense. Frankly, she is a powerhouse... a generator! And only I have the skill to garner her power and use it to further the magical arts. To ignore her talents would be a crime against the Goddess. It is her civic duty to be employed in a design of my making. I will make her extraordinary. And she in turn will make me extraordinary! And so, with this explanation communicated, you now understand that my answer is NO. I will not relinquish the slave who was once called Willow."

Beryl looked around the great room for a moment, desperately trying to make up a logical argument. She thought about how Queen Isabel was swayed by Beryl's emotional appeal for assistance when she talked about the love that Willow and Beryl shared.

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Third aside:

Indeed, dear Reader, if you or I were lesbian, and perhaps, enticed by dominance, submission and bondage, and, in our afterlife, should we find paradise, would not that paradise include a perfect complementary soul with which to meld a perfect love? A yang for our yin. Is that not what paradise would be?

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Beryl began telling her story: "I once brought Willow up into the high mountains of the Bowbell Peaks and I stood at the rim of Kenmare Chasm watching the sun slowly slide towards the western horizon. Willow knelt beside me, her chain leash hanging lazily between my hand and the D-ring on her beautiful slave collar. I smiled down at her, admiring her shape. She was wearing a short kilt and boots, a harness that supported and presented her sun-tanned breasts beautifully. Her hair was long and wild and fell down over her slave collar which was engraved with the words, 'Property of Beryl'. It was a beautiful collar. I had spared no expense for it.

"I remember she turned to me, that mischievous look in her eye that I love so much. She tapped her lips with a forefinger. While Willow can sing beautifully, she does not enjoy speaking. Over the years, we developed a language of signals using hands, eyes, touch, bodily gestures... Tapping her finger to her mouth meant she wanted to communicate something to me.

"She held out her hand. There were two keys in it and I was kind of shocked. Not because she had these keys. After all, they were keys that locked and unlocked her large slave collar. We were in love. There was no need to keep her from accessing the keys after all. No. What shocked me is that she had both keys at the same time. Usually we travel with one and leave the other at home. These were the only two keys to her collar after all. The lock is unpickable. It's important to have a spare.

"Without a second thought she flung the two keys over the edge of the cliff, into the chasm, fifteen hundred meters down. My mouth dropped open in disbelief about what she had done. I was speechless. I looked over at her. She had a wicked smile. She signed to me, 'Now, I belong to you forever.'

"Suddenly there was some kind of calamity out over the chasm. The sound of a hundred flapping wings. Maybe the keys had disturbed their sleep. Regardless, now a flock of white birds rose from the chasm and flapped off into the sunset."

Beryl opened her eyes and looked up to the sorceress, still perched on her throne. "Willow said she belongs to me forever. And, I say, that my heart belongs to her. I have searched long and hard for her for months now. I have subdued and punished her kidnappers. I have inspired my Queen with my tale of love. I have traveled two thousand kilometers through wild landscapes and opportunistic bandits to get here. I have walked naked into the great hall of the Sorceress of Belmar with these fu... with these clips attached to my nipples. And I would do it all again a thousand times to retrieve my slave, my lover, my Willow!"

The sorceress looked down on Beryl, seemingly contemplative. Finally, she raised her scepter and brought the butt end of the pole down hard in the center of the front edge of the plinth on which her throne rested. There was a loud -clack- that reverberated through the hall - even making the clips locked on Beryl's nipples vibrate. Next, there was an equally loud -pop- and a vertical seam appeared down the center of the plinth.

From behind Beryl, a collection of torches lit directing their luminescence upon the throne's plinth like a spotlight. The two runner girls stood, one on each side of the plinth, and grabbed long handles that Beryl had not noticed before. With considerable effort they began to pull the two halves of the front of the stone plinth apart slowly exposing a hidden compartment inside.

Beryl gasped when she could finally see the interior. "Willow!"

There was a woman inside the plinth. She was squinting, trying to get her eyes to transition from darkness to the blazing spotlights. She was restrained and could not move. She was naked except for a sturdy, metal collar engraved with the words "Property of Beryl" and a host of thin chains supporting an array of clear, green crystals.

"Willow!" Beryl called again. She was trying to determine how she might cross the metal grate without falling into the purple fires below.