Mavis And The Featherlight Ch3

This chapter comes with an illustration by Plasma Dragon. All art was used with permission and assistance from the artist.

It didn't stop until late in the night. The elf didn't know why. She only knew that it'd been quite some time, that the chastity belt had stopped her at the edge several times even after she gave up her struggling, that she desperately needed a drink, and that she was utterly drenched -- both in sweat, and... the other thing. Her stool, too - it was clearly ruined. Her nerves were shot. Her whole body ached, the muscles in her back, and in her hips, so tense that for a while they felt solid to the touch. Every part of her was more sensitive than it'd ever been, her hips flinching involuntarily under the touch of her own fingers; just stroking up and around her ass felt intensely arousing. Yet the belt was still firmly locked in place, even as she shook at it, straining at it with all her might as tears still ran down her cheeks. "MMMH!" She gasped, her fingers slipping off of it. "F-Fuck... This

evil

fucking thing..."

She ignored the safe, knowing it was useless to stick things through the slot in order to try and fish the keys out; Rose had demonstrated to her what might happen, and she wasn't ready to deal with more molten metal.

She was too tired to even pick at the Featherlight's lock. She resolved to just, just clean herself up... And go to bed. And tomorrow... Tomorrow, she'd get this horrible thing off. Somehow, some way, she would. She wouldn't, couldn't, let it win.

She peeled herself off the stool, ignoring the sticky puddle on and around it, and stepped gingerly out of the room. Her exhaustion was such that, once she'd finally finished drinking straight from the tap in the bathroom, she didn't make it to her own bed; She flopped, quite helplessly, onto Rose's. Pushing her head into the pillow, the elf took a deep, shameless sniff. Taking in the scent of her beloved partner, so dearly missed -- just as she'd sometimes embarrass Rose by huffing her wings in public.

What she would do for the angel's touch, her relief, right now. And yet...

She couldn't have it...

---

Mavis was woken early in the afternoon - later than she'd woken up in quite some time. The elf was not woken by any kind of alarm, nor by the din of any kind of activity outside. No. The brushes were what woke her, spurring her angrily onto her knees as she gasped, feeling the gentle rotation of bristles against her aching clit. It was a new sensation, a technique the belt had not tried yesterday. But it worked on her very well; Beneath her, the bedsheets were already moist.

Her waist ached a little, the waistband set about it pushing into her flesh possessively. Her hand went to her crotch, clutching and scraping at the hard, warm dome -- the elf shivering from the cool air of the room.

How long had the chastity belt allowed her to sleep? It must have only been eight hours or so. She plucked the covers away, regarding it with distain as it stopped for a moment, as if sensing her rising.

It wasn't being as cruel as last night. Not just yet. It was... There was only a single brush touching at her right now. Tickling her very softly and slowly. Rotating very, very lightly at her clit, touching it very slightly. Enough that she could function, but... Involuntarily, her legs tensed and stretched, her fingers pushing at the lock as she looked over it.

Angrily, she rolled over, going for the chest of drawers by the bed. Rose had some things that she like to use on Mavis when she was here, and she was sure she could find... Aha!

Out came the... What Rose always called the "relaxing" "massager", one of the more powerful of its kind. She'd never seen the angel say its name without making air quotes with her hands from behind Mavis, giggling all the while as she turned it on and attacked the elf where she was weakest. It had been Mavis's, but Rose had claimed it after catching the elf using it, declaring that she wouldn't be replaced by such a lewd little machine. What Mavis wouldn't give for some of that kind of love now, but...

She flicked it on, touching it gently to the front of the belt, and felt nothing but annoyance at the loudness of the noise it made. Frowning, and wishing she could cover her ears, she turned the wand slowly to the moderate, then high, then max setting, feeling the loud vibrations of the metal now finally tickle and tease at her flesh -- but it wasn't anything close to enough, for barely any of the metal was in contact with her body near her sex. She ground it up and down the front shield, then, trying different positions. Up and down the sides, around each edge, over the top. She drilled and twisted the vibrator into the metal just above her clit. No matter what she tried, however, the faint little tickle never intensified into something that would stimulate her in a meaningful way.. Growling in frustration, she rolled onto her stomach, rising to her knees.

At max, though, on some parts of the belt, and only from this angle... It took several minutes of trying and failing, but now she could almost, very nearly, feel something. It surely wasn't intentional, but one of the arms of the belt's little nubs had parked itself, very lightly, at the top of her glistening sex -- just below where her clit was. And it seemed that just below was close enough, because as the elf pushed the vibrator harder and harder into her body, she finally began to feel stimulated...

Just

enough.

She began to gasp, moaning softly as she ground the vibrator up and down -- finally finding purchase. "Y...Yes...!" She whispered, mounting the vibe and biting her lip as she pushed hard at that very specific part of the front shield. Her hips trailed various improvements to the already strange angle she was using, then, but she couldn't find any way to stimulate herself more than this. But,

this

... It might be enough. It might be

just enough

...

The brushes were still going. She smiled a little, realising she might have finally found a way to cheat this horrible chastity belt. Desperately, she rode the sensations out, the continuing movement of the brushes aiding the unintentionally vibrating nub touched to her clit, but... But just as she was getting into it, her sex beginning to drip with moisture as the elf got increasingly close, the nub began to move, the brushes slowing to a stop. She cringed in frustration, pushing the vibrator into the metal uselessly as the nub slowly lifted away -- unable, though the thick steel, to force it back down into its place. Had the belt

noticed

? She moaned, pushing harder at the front shield with the vibrator as her sex cooled off, unable to get any of the stimulation.

As soon as she'd calmed down just a little -- unwillingly, of course -- the nub was back in place, once more transmitting stimulation. Mavis scowled, wincing audibly as she felt the brushes touch back to her body. Spellbound, in she went again with the vibrator, the thing still making a monstrously loud noise against the metal as that noise, soon, was joined by the elf's lewd moans and gasps -- her hips fucking the wand as she held it to the belt in her shuddering hand.

"Mmmmh! C-Come on, ah..." She stammered, her lower legs kicking at the bed behind her as she raised her ass into the air, the room still filled by the sounds of the vibrator. "Ahhhh. Ah! That's- Mmh..." She knew the belt could tell how close she was, but... Surely, this time... She was there again, and the nub wasn't moving away?

Was it?

It... Was. It was moving off her slower. The brushes were slowing this time, and with them, Mavis's progress. "F-FUCK!" She screamed at the belt. "

Stop

it! Let me.... Mmmhhh...! I'm so close, I'm so close I'm so close... I'm so, so close..." Her eyes shut, her voice desperate and pleading. "Please let me cum, just let me cum please, please

please

..." She ground the vibrator up and down again, pushing hard at the metal, but beneath she could feel the nub, and the brushes, raising and lowering, speeding up and slowing down. Tears appeared in her eyes when she realised what it was doing -- making the elf a willing accomplice to her own teasing, forcing her to assist it in the edging session even as she wriggled her hips, pushing at the metal desperately as the loud vibrations filled her ears. That such an intense, unbearably loud sound from between her legs resulted only in the same gentle, slight stimulations as before... Just enough. It was

just

enough, to

not be enough

.

Soon, Mavis was shaking with rage. All she was doing was working herself up! Letting the belt, while itself working her gently, force her to join it -- luring and baiting her with an orgasm it would in reality never allow to pass through. It knew her body better than she did, the artful little nubs and brushes having long mastered the elf's sensitive, burning flesh. And it was teaching her a cruel lesson; one with only a single objective.

The elf ground her teeth, still trying to pre-empt it; her free hand pushed and pried at the front shield, shaking at it until she managed, several more minutes of infuriatingly gentle edging later, to accept that it would make no difference. Her body shaking, she fell to her knees, flicking the vibrator off and pulling it away -- drawing yet more strings of her heat from the front of the belt as she sat panting on the bed. Her hands were soon clutching at her throbbing, dripping crotch as she began to wince softly again, realising that the softly stroking brushes would only very slowly let her body come down from the frenzy she'd helped them drive her into.

She was shocked, then, when she opened her eyes and saw how wet she was. And how wet the wand was, too! It hadn't been this much of a mess even after Rose had made her cum with it multiple times! Had the angel been wiping it down between rounds? Or... Or was she now

really

that desperate? She gritted her teeth, wiping it on her shirt, and quietly lamenting her lack of self control. She was thirsty again, her body having lost more water to the minutes of madness.

Slowly, she let herself fall forward, lying on her stomach as she shoved her face into the pillow. She was still so, so desperate. But...

She looked back over her body, now wincing at the sight of the belt's perfect fit, and the feel of the gently stroking brushes between her legs. She reached down, lifting her body to tug and pry at it, but it was still locked very firmly into place. The curling steel was set tight against her hips, the lock stubbornly holding each seam closed no matter how desperately she pried and strained. She winced, her breathing momentarily deeper as it worked her gently, playing cruelly with her button as if in response to her pathetic attempt at escape. Soon, those breaths became gasps. Oh, how could angels stand this?! The tightness, these unbearable, obscene little brushes; The thought that, without the key, that red key, that she'd so stupidly discarded... It really wouldn't come off...

It came down to that, didn't it? The lock. Why hadn't she been able to get the lock open?

Quite suddenly, she had a new idea.

The workshop was as she'd left it, the wooden floor and workbench surface warmed slightly by the rising sun, the floor now dry. She looked at her dampened stool with distain, pushing at the cushion and feeling the moisture still soaking it. Moving it aside, she took a moment to think.

She knew as she fetched the bundle of wire from the top shelf that this was technically cheating. That, in a real situation, tools like this wouldn't be accessible. Prideful though she was, however, Mavis was growing less and less concerned with completing her challenge as she'd originally devised it -- and far more with just finding some way to get the Featherlight off her body without the key. Shuddering with frustration, she grabbed the theilla tube television from the corner, pulling it along the workbench to be nearer to her and plugging it in -- tuning it to the extension 1 channel with the knobs on the side. Quickly, it warmed up, the internal theila tubes bathing the crystals in the curved, circular screen with modulated flux pulses. For a moment, then, the whole screen flashed white, the barred logo of the Seelie Machine Company illuminating the room. Another moment later, some centred, boxed letters, set in distinctive, glowing type, read

NO SIGNAL

.

In, then, she plugged the bundle of wires -- partially into the wall, and partially into the TV -- checking to see if the single tailed end that all of those wires joined into produced light. It did, and the TV showed a picture, now -- her own flustered face, staring into the noodle-like camera as she held it up.

Mavis smothered a quiet little moan as the single brush that had been tracing gently around her lips and clit suddenly dived inside, drawing a soft, intolerable little line up the roof of her passage. She stomped her foot, staring down at the chastity belt with utter hate as she felt the brush return, resuming its original, already difficult to bear rotating motions; continuing not to torment her, but just, gently touch her. Tracing each fold, taking the time to sample and indulge every inch of her trembling flesh. And give every inch, every little millimetre, its own soft, gentle little stroke. "Mmh," She gasped, realising she was becoming unable to bear it now. She pulled the belt up and down, prying at it, but there wasn't anything she could do to prevent it from teasing her harder and harder as the minutes began to pass.

She would very much have liked to push the camera through the moistened grate between her legs. To see just what those awful gears were doing, and maybe, somehow, find a way around them, and see what the brushes were up to behind that impregnable dome. To find even the smallest weak point in what must be an extraordinarily complex mechanism, filled with emergent properties and therefore surely with weaknesses that could be exploited...

If the belt destroyed her camera, however, that would be an expensive mistake. To the lock, therefore, her attention turned -- the elf glad that it hadn't been found to have similar defences.

The image she saw on the screen of the lock's interior -- until now, unseen -- was quite bewildering. Mavis very often used the wire camera to examine the interiors of locks she owned and wanted to study. She'd not seen one like this.

There

were

no pins. Her intuition, her bewilderment and disbelief at what she'd been feeling, had been incorrect. What she found instead -- as she carefully slid in a pick alongside the camera, trying not to move her body in a way that might 'upset' the belt in the process -- was indeed a smooth, soft surface of what looked like springy chrome. She pushed it down with the pin, regarding the impression that was created -- and noting immediately the cliff that was created around the pin, where the metal, rather than ramping back up like the surface of a suspended cloth with a weight placed in it, remained fully raised. It reminded her of those pin art frames you could get in stores, where you could push your hand into one side and see its outline in the pushed out pins on the other.

That's what made her realise.

This surface was the pins

. The thought spun through her head as she moved the camera closer, trying to see how big each pin was, and finding that she basically couldn't. These pins, packed into rows of what must have been numbers beyond her comprehension, were so thin, so tightly machined, and so densely packed, that she couldn't even differentiate individual ones. That was incredible.

Rose had already told her what this was. Another hypothetical, another silly thought experiment of her gentle mother bird, had turned out to be a truth that had been hidden from her -- almost in plain sight. How was she this stupid?! They were micro-pins! So thin, that... to see individual ones, would require a microscope...

Left with nothing else, Mavis nervously switched the TV off. She racked her brain, but she knew she didn't have the proper tools for this -- she didn't even know what tools she'd need. Her fist hit the table. What would work here?!

Well... There was

one

thing...

Could she...?

The brushes were still gently touching her, but the elf was sure that, if she sat down, she could still concentrate. And concentrate Mavis would need to do, for she was about to do the thing that elves were known for being able to do -- albeit only with education and practice. She was about to perform purple magic.

Firstly, as was quite standard, she began to cast the red half of the spell.

Red magic -- elemental and genetic magic -- was the more poorly understood of the two main types of magic. Elves could theoretically use all the elements, though only weakly; for only elementals, dragons, and high-end industrial leyprinters with ridiculous energy and space requirements were able to generate multiple elements on huge scales. This was fine, though, for Mavis wasn't trying to do anything fancy. She just needed... Just a little bit, of ice.

Slowly, she felt the energy begin to move and reshape, flowing from the pit of her chest up to her shoulders, then down through her arms. Her skin cooled, her body suddenly able to more easily calm down, even momentarily repel the attentions and effects of the belt -- moreso by the second, as she continued to concentrate. She peeked her eyes open, regarding her outstretched, whitening hands, but nothing had happened yet. And so she closed them again, trying to ignore the sensation of her sweat freezing in her pores, her fingers numbing. For a being like her, frostbite was always a hazard when casting ice magic. But she had to ignore it. To make the spell happen...

She moved her hands slowly close together, shivering uncontrollably as the cold quickly overtook her, still pushing mentally with all her mind. Finally, she heard it -- the soft, gentle shimmer that had years ago at the academy indicated her first success. Her eyes cracked open -- quite literally, for the tears that normally coated them had begun to freeze -- and she regarded the floating, rotating ball of pure frost that had, from the thaumic energy carried by her blood, formed in front of her. Her flesh had whitened, her veins showing a black outline against her now not only cold, but incredibly itchy skin.

Flux rash. She really was very out of practice, if casting was giving her that so quickly. But she couldn't let her concentration break. Now was the time for the blue part of the spell.

It would work like this -- she'd levitate the undulating mass of liquid frost -- illogical, yet very real, and ready to be formed into a spell -- into the belt's lock. She'd then shape the non-water carefully, on an almost atomic level -- not manually, for that would be impossible for a mortal mind like hers to do, but

algorithmically

; making it both tension the lock, and push individually at the pins at the top and bottom until, however subtly, it managed to get them into just the right position that they seemed "in place". This algorithm was where blue magic -- technical magic -- came in.

She was sure this would work. This always worked. She knew the algorithm, too, off by heart. And it would only be a small adjustment to make it work across multiple dimensions of pins as long as, somehow, she could detect them setting into place. She'd try from as many directions as needed, resting and recasting to run the algorithm multiple times if necessary.