The Cage

The Mage had not been seen since that night in the maze. The Emperor was in a foul mood. She neither attended meals, nor responded to his messages. She simply remained in her rooms, silent and guarded. He could hardly think of anything else; she apparently had other things on her mind. This ate him away.

He sat in the Great Hall, pushing his food around, a maid on his lap trying to entice him to eat. Finally growing thoroughly disgusted, he shoved her to the floor and left through the back exit, to the hall that eventually connected to his rooms. He heard the deafening silence as he stormed from the Hall, but he hardly cared. Some form of enchantment was upon him and he wanted an explanation.

As he turned the corner and entered the next corridor, he heard the music pick up a merry tune as a familiar voice called for a dance. He stopped. He thought about returning and confronting her there, but then thought better of it and made his way instead to a hidden view port above the dining area. As he suspected the Mage had decided to grace them with her presence; and what a presence she made. She wore a stunning gown; her hair was plated and covered with glittering, beaded netting. She danced and whirled around the room, performing a grand portrayal of a ritual hunt. It was a dance most commonly performed by younger girls just reaching the age of courting, an announcement of their status. It was her favorite as a youth. She exaggerated the moves and gestures in a merry mockery of the routine; she had the entire hall laughing…and lusting. Such was the power of his Mage, when the mood was upon her. His father had chosen her well; he saw her power early on and nurtured her, no, pampered her from the beginning. He resented that as a boy, but now he saw the wisdom of it.

The Emperor found himself smiling and tapping along to the tune, in spite of himself. He wound back through the corridors to the hall and entered as he had exited. No one noticed. He returned to his seat and lifted the maid back into his lap, nibbling an apology into her neck and ear. She cooed and giggled, but was obviously more intrigued by the dance. The Mage finished to a hearty round of applause and bowed, laughing merrily, dodging the many groping hands and arms of his men, as she made her way to her customary chair, a few down to his left. He swung the maid over to his left knee and busied himself as she approached. She took her place and served herself a meal as if she hadn't eaten in days. Men surrounded her, teasing and flirting; even his guard was sitting next to her, bidding them let her have her sup. The Emperor was growing restless and jealous.

The Mage thoroughly enjoyed herself, allowing all the attention they would lavish upon her. She was a beautiful woman, of that there was no doubt, but normally she was quiet and unadorned; her training and responsibility had quelled much of the fire she held as a youth. Tonight she was as her former self; coquettish and impish, but with a more mature, vixen quality that held much more power than the young girl she once had been. She never even so much as looked in the Emperor's direction. He grew more furious with each passing hour. Finally, she begged their forgiveness and excused herself, offering an early training session with her initiates as her excuse. She exited with subtle drama as she glided through the hall to the main archway and turned the corner, swishing skirts trailing behind. The Emperor longed to flee at that moment too, but he dare not be seen leaving at the same time. He waited until the attention of his court was occupied with music and wine and quietly slipped out the back exit.

He slipped through a door not many entered or exited, to a hall that led to another set of doors that put him in the hall she must pass through on the way to her chambers. He heard her light footsteps approaching and opened the doors just as she was passing on the other side of the hall. She, of course, knew of the passage he used and fully expected him, as well she should. She turned her head in his direction, raised an eyebrow in mock surprise. "M'Lord," was all she said as she continued on her way.

He fell in line. "Where do you hurry to, Mage," he asked.

"My chambers, Lord," she replied casually.

"May I join you? I haven't seen your chambers since you returned from your training."

"Do you think that's wise Lord?"

"Assuming, you continue to flirt and tease every man and woman in my court as you did tonight and reserve only your most haughty self for my attentions, no one will suspect a thing." He meant to sound flippant and humorous, but his true feelings showed nonetheless.

She turned her head, raising her brow again, fury flashing through her eyes, but she never broke stride. Now facing front, she hiked up her skirts and sprinted down the hall, laughing that irresistible, impish laugh, he so fondly remembered ringing through the castle in his youth. He dashed after her, but she was quick and soon out of sight. He pursued her to her chambers and closed the door behind him; she was nowhere to be seen, but a tapestry rustled against the wall. This was the entrance to her lair. He had it made for her, but had not asked her for what purpose, nor did he really care…until now. He slipped behind the tapestry, through the open door and down a slippery flight of stone stairs. The cats announced his arrival with mighty growls and roars and eerie high-pitched calls. He proceeded cautiously; least she had released them as a joke. He snuck round a corner to an open room, but he focused solely on the cage, or rather cell, at the opposite end. The door was open and there was a rustling in the dark, back corner. He sprinted for the cell and heard the door slam just as his two feet crossed the threshold. He spun around to see her smirking, brow raised, arms folded across her chest.

"My turn now," she purred.

He slammed himself against the bars and rattled the door. The cats went wild, growling and roaring their own show of strength. She laughed at the cacophony.

"Mage, let me out of here," he warned.

"I have other things in mind, Lord," she said casually.

A thin smile spread across his lips. "Ok. I'm game. What do you want?"

She cocked her head for a moment and looked down, as of considering something. "See those cuffs on the side bars? Slip into them and we'll go from there."

He looked over to his left and saw a set of fleece-lined leather cuffs, clamped to the bars, about 7.5 feet off the ground.

"Oh, and remove your shirt first," she added.

He casually removed his shirt as she watched, maintaining eye contact as he slowly moved toward the cuffs, raised his arms over his head and slipped his wrists through.

"Tighten one yourself and slip your wrist through the other." He complied. She moved closer and reached up to cinch down the other cuff, but he quickly released himself and grabbed for her through the bars. He held her close, but somehow, she held a dagger at his throat and he laughed merrily as he let her go and returned to his former position, allowing her to secure the cuffs.

She stepped back, a look of displeasure on her face. "That was not wise my Lord. This can be easy or it can be difficult. The choice is yours. At the moment, I see you've chosen difficult. We'll see how you feel in a little while." She turned and left with a rustle of her skirts. He stood alone, bare-chested and cuffed to the cell, facing a row of large, wild cats that paced and growled their distain for his intrusion.

After a short time, she returned. She had removed her gown and was wearing a long, linen chemise. Her nipples were erect from the damp, chill air of the lair and as she passed through the candlelight, the thin fabric revealed shapely curves. She was barefoot, long hair rippling down her back. He drank her in and his desire showed. She wondered over to the cats first, petting and purring at them through the bars; they responded with the same affection. Then she came to stand before him.

"Nice of you to remember me," he spat. She looked down in disappointment, shook her head and left quietly.

He was infuriated. He rattled the bars of his cell, and used all his might to break the clamps that held the cuffs. He liked games but this was too much. The cats went berserk. He was sick of their watchful gaze and sick of their presence in general. He roared back at them, which only incited them to riot. A huge row ensued. The cats clawed at one another through their cages and when they found their efforts fruitless, they tore apart their cells with great fury. All but the Jaguar; that one sat back calmly, a cat's smirk on its face, not unlike the one the Mage wore as she slammed the door behind him. He calmed down and hung from the cuffs; exhausted and frustrated, he waited.

She returned sometime later, wrapped in a cape of fox skins. He knew that cloak; she made it from the skins her cats brought her from the fields. The fox were like mice to them. She brought him a pot and set in on the floor in front of him as she knelt down and removed his leggings. He was tempted to let loose in her face, but thought better of it; after all she held the keys to his freedom and he so wanted to proceed with whatever was in store. He decided to be good and play along. He relieved himself while she walked over to a table and retrieved a skin of water. She brought it to her cats first, lovingly admonishing them for tearing up their 'rooms'. Then she approached her Lord. She removed the pot and reached up on her toes to give him a drink. He opened his mouth silently and watched her closely. She never met his eyes and remained impartial as she picked up the pot on her way out. She had left his leggings down around his ankles.

After a time he got cold and hungry and more and more angry. He called for her and hurled insults at her. He tried to break free and set the cats off again and again. Finally, he began to quietly plot her punishment. In the deafening silence, he fell asleep to dreams of his revenge.

A cool, sweet scented breeze, floated across his face. He opened his eyes with a start, ready for a trick or some attack. He was hanging by his wrists, tired, hungry, aching and a bit too vulnerable for his liking. She stood before him in the candlelight, fur cape picking up the flickering firelight. The color was stunning on her and he could see she was scantily clad beneath, as her skin picked up the red and orange light, glowing with a heat of its own. She swung the cape off her shoulders and with an expert snap, laid it on the stone floor in front of him. She stood before him, in a thin, gauze shirt that barely covered her breasts. Her panties were the same gauze, high cut and barely covering her sweet snatch. The cats growled playfully and she quickly turned to silence them, revealing a shapely bare ass, firm round cheeks, smooth skin glowing in the dim light.

He watched her, bound and transfixed. He hadn't gotten a good look at her the other night in the maze, it all happened so fast and furiously. She was truly beautiful, not like the serving girls, or the overly powdered and coiffed ladies of his court. Hers was a natural grace and genuine passion that poured from her very being and infected all who stood within range; the kind that only took one look to reduce a man to a fumbling schoolboy and he was well within range.

She felt his eyes on her and the growing heat emanating from his body. She turned around to face him and coyly posed a question. "Have you ever tamed a wild beast, Lord?"

His mouth was dry as sand; he barely croaked his answer. "What?"

She walked lightly towards him and repeated her query. "Have you ever tamed a wild beast? I have, you see, many times. There's a method I've developed that works very well." She moved closer, as she slowly removed her shirt. "First you have to show vulnerability." Her shirt was off and her nipples were erect in the cold air. She cupped her breasts with her hands and pinched her nipples hard between her thumb and forefinger, as she let her head fall back, taking in a quick sharp breath. He moved forward but met only the bars.

She looked him in the face, her eyes clouded in a haze. "Then you have to tempt them with something you know they can't refuse." Her voice was different, deeper and huskier. Her hands moved slowly down her stomach, over her panties and rested on her hot crotch. She rubbed her clit slowly and tenderly, swaying her hips and rolling her head to a slow rhythm, rising from deep within. When she removed her hand and brought it to his face to mark her scent, he saw her panties were soaked through.

"Once they take the bait," she continued, "you have to trap them quickly. It's cruel, but necessary." She sunk down onto the fur cape, directly in front of him and sprawled out, feet up against the bars of the cage. The sensual feeling of the fur against her skin set her off and she writhed and squirmed, hands roving her body and breasts and wet crotch. She pulled her panties to one side and raised her knees and hips as she ran her fingers through her slit. He caught a whiff of her musky scent and swelled to full erection; the four bars just in front of him were just wide enough apart to let it poke through, but not his balls. Well calculated, he thought.

She sat up and continued, "Once they resign themselves to their captivity, you must reward them generously." She held her wet hand to the bars in front of his face and he strained to lick the sweet juices; but he was only meant to smell. She reached down between her legs for another swipe and brought it back to his face. He breathed deeply of her scent and moaned with desire. She stood before him and ran her hands up and down her shapely torso; now grabbing at her breasts, now pinching her nipples, now turning to show him her sweet, sweet ass, running her hands over her smooth cheeks and pulling them apart ever so slightly to reveal her swollen lips below. He bucked and rocked his hips against the bars, hoping to touch her, even briefly; she was so close. But she maintained her distance and danced a maddening snake dance for him in the candlelight.

She slinked over to where she had dropped her shirt and bent, straight legged, to pick it up. She turned to face him and tied the shirt around her face, covering her eyes. She walked across the cape to his cell in perfectly measured steps; she had done this more than once. She stopped just before reaching the bars and stretched her arms to pull the length of her body against the bars and against his protruding erection. Holding the bars far above her head, she rippled up and down, lightly brushing against him wherever he could get up close. The cuffs stood out a bit from the bars and his feet were barely touching the floor, so in the end, the tip of his swollen head was all that brushed her silky skin. She moaned and sighed lightly and sweetly as she worked up and down the bars and as he looked down upon her glowing tresses, he saw the blindfold and called her given name in a pleading voice that measurably increased her passion. Her breathing quickened, her sighs gave way to deeper moans and a few growls escaped her lips, as she pressed closer to the bars and increased her pace. Suddenly, she leapt up, wrapping her legs around the bars as best she could, cinching up to reach his face and pulling his neck closer for a deep throated, passionate kiss. He leaned in, but it was quite a stretch, his arms straining more than he could bear at this point, but he dared not pull away. Her wet nether-lips were close to his head and she teased him mercilessly as she bobbed up and down, hugging the bars ad kissing him deeply.

She pulled away and slid down, removing her panties as her feet touched the floor. She slid a wrist through each leg hole and twisted them round and round until they bound her wrists together. Dropping to her knees, she brought her bound wrists to his throbbing cock and took him gently in her long slim hands, caressing him with feather-light strokes, up and down his thick shaft. He longed to grab her head and push it down onto his cock, but his hands were bound and he moaned his frustration. She lowered her head in response to his unspoken plea and allowed her lips to brush his head while she continued to stroke him lightly. She moved one hand down through the bars to his balls and fondled them tenderly as she slowly parted her lips to lick the juice oozing from the slit in his head. He writhed and pulled at his cuffs, desperately trying to gain access to her mouth, but she wouldn't have it. She continued to tease him, bound and blindfolded, until his cock was dripping and his legs were shaking. Then, she stood up and turned around, raising onto her toes and bending forward to offer him a back entrance to her inner folds. She pressed her ass up against the bars and slid her lips over his head, rubbing up and down, but not letting him inside. She wouldn't let him close enough to push his way in, she just kept teasing and teasing, on an on, until he entire body shook with the tension of denied release. He cried her name over and over, pleading for her to let him enter, but she ignored him. She waited until his frustration and fatigue drove him to a whimpering mess, begging her for release.

Once satisfied with his desperation, she spun round with a fury and dove head first onto his aching cock. She took him deep into her mouth in one fluid motion and wrapped her hands around the bottom of his shaft, pulling and stroking as her mouth sucked deep and hard. He looked down, mouth open and eyes wide, to see her ass rocking and swaying in perfect sync with the movements of her hands and mouth. Her tongue was busy licking and flicking up and over his head as she moaned and rocked and sucked and stroked. He was lost in a haze of ecstasy; he had waited so long for release and yet, he dreaded the inevitable ending to this bliss. She increased her pace and suction as muffled moans came from her mouth. He began to groan and buck; she held the tension and let him do his best. He thrust at her mouth again and again, finally reaching his limit, shooting hot streams of cum down her throat, over and over. She neither flinched nor gagged nor lost a beat.

She sucked and sucked, taking every last drop, lessening the pressure as he began to recede. She rolled his softening flesh around her mouth with her tongue and popped it in and out with her lips. She sucked and teased, kissing and licking then taking him in again and again in a sweet rhythm that drove him mad. Her hands were through the bars, caressing his balls, stroking and pulling, slapping lightly, then harder. She kept it up until he was limp in her mouth, then, pulling off gently, she blew cool air through her lips to dry him sweetly.

She rose from her crouch and walked around the cell to the door. She opened the door and entered to where his body hung from his wrists, exhausted and spent. She eased herself between him and the bars and reached up to unlock the cuffs. He fell down around her neck and shoulders as she freed him. She supported him with her body as they slowly walked from the cell to a fine mattress covered with velvet and piled high with pillows of all shapes and sizes. She laid him on the pillows and he sunk in deeply, grateful for the comfort. She walked to a table and retrieved a jar, a skin of water and a bowl with steam rising forth. She returned to the bed, laid the items on a table nearby and lit some soothing incense. The Emperor began to relax and gave a heavy sigh. The Mage joined him on the bed.

"You were beautiful my Lord," she purred, "hanging helplessly by your wrists." She dipped a hand into the jar and rubbed a soothing salve into his aching shoulders and arms and wrists and hands. His circulation began to return and she moved down to his chest and sides. She lovingly massaged his pains away with her miraculous cream and he felt invigorated…and hungry. He moaned deeply as she continued to work his muscles.