19th of March, 379th Year of the Second Era of Mending. Haigrunia Hinternds, Western Hegranes Heimrad.

  Aldimil’s legs screamed in silence from the intense aching. For the past two weeks she tracked on foot from the capital of the Kingdom eastwards to the Haigrunia Hinternds rugged terrain dotted with innumerable amount of oaks, maples, birches, ashes, and even willows near the ice sheeted rivers of the far-north whilst trying her best to evade unnecessary confrontation with the locale wildlife, beasts and critters like goblins, trolls, ogres, the draugr wandering out from their mounds and crypts, from the ancient battlefields where they fell in the battles waged against the demonic hordes.

  And the intricate, tactile rope coiling around her calves, ankles hidden beneath the drouvhen leather, heeled-boots helped little in alleviating the throbbing pain in her legs. Ropes that were her own, she brought in her opulent dark outfit’s enchanted spaces, pockets. Though of course not to satisfy a strange kink – she read many a times before of those who enjoy a little self-binding away from civilization – but of course to use it in apprehending Matilda who recently earned the self-expnatory title of The Lustful from changing her profession of a court’s witch into a warlock after her lust for power began to expand into a lust for bodily joys.

  The discovery came a bit after her capture. Initially they simply thought she grew mad after the orgy that resulted in the death of the Damirh Karethar and his whole family. Each of them found in eborate ties, hung from the ceiling, naked covered in their own mucus and blood still flowing from all their orifices. Aldimil could not believe when she read the report given by the clerk and the guild-master. No one really expected even then there would be any who still wished to parley with the Lords of the Stygian Realms, many simply chalked it up to an accident or possibly a foreign interference, as Karethar himself was barely tolerated by the other Damirhs after he fucked his way through most of their daughters even before he inherited the post.

  The revetion itself came when the caravan taking Matilda to Ang-Saellirith arrived not in the expected time. A group of dragon riders of the Snow-Scaled Order flew out and not far from where she escaped back to the Haigrunia Hinternds, the dragons grew disgusted by the thick stygian energies lingering nearby, carried away by the astral winds as if to alert them. The scenery itself appeared just as grim as the Grim Orgy’s, with all the guards assigned found either fully or partially naked, bound and gagged, their mucus and blood frozen as they leaked out from all their orifices. Their faces frozen in an eternal pleasure.

  With this knowledge in mind, a hefty bounty was pced upon her head, which led to Aldimil and a few more of her Sisters setting out from their Isle alongside the aforementioned Snow-Scaled Host dragon riders, a few initiates of the Lord of Hunts who could easily track through the rugged hinternd. And led to her ending up bound and gagged in an old crumbling shack in the middle of nowhere, though she was a bit gd Matilda had little time to do her wicked magic that would have given her a deadly, grim climax like all the others before. This strange mercy of sorts made her a bit uneasy though instead of giving her relief.

  Like many of her Sisters and kindred, Aldimil was an exceptional beauty with a slightly angur, lean, oval face and head. Her once snow white, shoulder length hair darkened into the bck shade of majestic ravens after she received the Blessing of the Bck Rose herself, its silken soft strands falling like waterfalls around her pretty face adorned with bold violet eyes in a wide, thin almond frame eye above them a thin, lush line of softly arching brows. Her cheeks sitting high, below her eyes prominently whilst her nose had a straight, slender bridge and a cutely rounded tip which narrow nostrils fred wide as she inhaled the damp cold air seeping in from the snow trimmed hole of the celr’s ceiling. Her lips with a minimal curvature, possessing a straighter, more even appearance hidden behind a snow silver brocaded, trimmed aelfrahd silken Muffle Scarf.

  The ropes themselves were a blend of the elven silk, evident from their lustrous, smooth appearance almost like the snow-silver tunic hugging lightly her slender, fair form with its high, folded down and buttoned-down colrs with sharp angles kissing her soft, smooth cheeks slightly reddened by the cold it protected her from so far. Surveying the cinching ropes running in arcs and wedges across the flowing, smooth drouvhen leather drinking in the fading light, Aldimil ruminated whether Matilda received also knowledge on bindings and whether she absconded her chance of killing her because she took too much time doing the loops, tightening the knots she felt even through the yered outfit.

  An outfit that majestically highlighted her natural curves, thanks to the robes’ thinner nature whilst it still appeared quite opulent, fashionable in elven and northern terms. Shoulders with a slight, upwards curve at the outer edges, narrow, hexagonal colr ced together at its base, elevated neckline, whilst the top half simirly at the elevation of her cheeks pushing onto the angled wings of her tunic’s colr. The serpentine cords of snow silver further traversed straight down her chest, slightly snted by her firm breast – not too big, not too small – shadowing her narrow, defined waist cinched by another, horizontal set of loops and a waist band adorned by blooming lotus roses interlocked by their thorny vines stretching around the circumference, embroidered onto in snow-silver elven threads.

  The back of the asymmetrical hem sprawling on the wet, cold wooden floor whilst the top, shorter segment pushed onto her slim breeches by the taut rope siphoning her overflowing mana and little stamina whilst exacerbating the pain of travelling on foot for the past weeks as mentioned before. One positive thing she could see in her situation – besides not being killed – was the chance to rest a bit, anchored to the sole pilr that was not about to crumble into dust and snow covering everything around her. With her rings still on her fingers thankfully, she had at least a few days even before hunger and thirst reared their heads over the dim horizon, and hopefully one of her Sisters either finds her, or finds Matilda and bring wealth to their Sisterhood.

  Though sleep was still out of the picture, for Myelia knows how long as the aching refused to cease even as the dim bckness of night lengthened over the decrepit shack in the middle of nowhere. Aldimil tried her best, forcing her searing muscles to stay still, but like the hiccups of a drunken dwarf, her body twitched, squirmed in the bindings at sudden, haphazard intervals. And with them she felt the rope cutting into her body, even through the sleek, yered outfit. It was during the third or fourth spasm during the te afternoon she realized, Mathilda left a little gift in the form of a crotch tie. With each spasm, as the vertical and tightest loop tyrannically looming over her nether area protected by her pants only – her undergarments dancing in her cmmy mouth, its taste leaving a lot to be desired – a loud, muffled whimper or moan escaped her whilst tears welled in the refined corners of her eyes.

  As she had to fear not the cold, thanks to the enchantments woven into the arcane-weave leather and silk, Aldimil began to grew suspicious and realized during the dawn, there was truly no mercy from Mathilda. Maybe an experiment, a wicked py or as she recalled her victims being bound and gagged, maybe they suffered the same fate as her currently. Afterall, no one witnessed their demise, but the warlock herself.

  With each battering, Aldimil felt perspiration pour out from her pores, trickling down on her smooth, mildly hydrated skin. Along each battering, she felt tickling tendril invade her clitoris’s soft, pinkish folds, slithering on them, pushing inwards further and further whilst at the same time a few of them stopping to brush, to release their pleasuring venom that made her mind and body forget about the pain, the aching that still assailed her.

  By the end of the second day, she was left bound and gagged tautly, the tendrils pushed deep, reaching into her soul. Aldimil could think barely, her thoughts revolved simply around the need, the want to pleasure herself. She wanted nothing more than to force her fingers into her vulva, to open the dam, let the bodily fluids flow out like the flowing rivers of the southern heimrads. A small hint of fear also slipped in when she sensed warmness on her cheeks, accompanied by a foul yet rousing odor she was familiar with. Many a times she felt this scent leaking from her vulva whilst making love in one of the brothels of Ang-Saellirith.

  And now she felt it along her cheeks, yet amidst the madness of this wicked pleasure tinging her whole, bound form, she still had hope as the silken stench of elven blood was amiss from this parade of odors. There was still time to be freed from the yoke of the cursed ropes, hope to be found by one of her fellow bounty hunters or even a beast that may cut away the ropes in its frenzy. To Aldimil a fate like that would have been better, than being found like Mathilda’s previous victims.

  Then as if Myelia heard her silent whispers, Aldimil jerked her head up, eye full of maddening pleasure as she heard the lulby of sifting snow amidst the billowing winds, the hush of colorful violet, red, and green foliage, and the crunching of both beneath the steps… or wind.

  Afterword:

  And another one. Set in the Second Era of Mending, previously known as After the Second Crusade [ASC]. A name I like much, much better and wish I thought of it sooner.

  Now another thing, but these stories besides being a bit contained, it is not perfect and there is a little spilling. In this case, the not so present viliness who left the beautiful sorceress in a pleasingly perilous situation may appear in the current storyline I am working on. And all this is a bit of demonstration what she is capable of.

  Now the question is, whether she is the same agent who silenced Hummingbird, or not. Maybe.

  Anyhow, an appetizer on the next story. To be honest the title at this point is a pceholder, but its Hectic Days, and the setting is southern and central Eoran, namely on a newly built magicraft train with a feline bulk for its cars. Who is involved, I leave for tomorrow. For now it is a story inspired by Bullet Train a little and a bit by From Russia With Love. Well both in the sense they involve trains, and I really wanted to write a full on train story.

  But I stop rambling here. Thank you for reading this and hope you all have a nice day! Take care folks!

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