"Queen Xicralia Takes a Captive"
By: SidaivaRevaso
Out of nowhere, while striding along the castle rampart one summer evening, Queen Xicralia sensed a force impinging upon her mind. Though obviously a
desiring
force, its specific objective could not be ascertained, so she barricaded her mind and instructed her guards to find the source of this force--and then bring it to her.
They discovered it almost immediately, sitting meekly outside the castle gates: a bedraggled woman dressed in cheap fabric, much of it torn and sullied. Her head lolled toward her chest, and her eyes were downcast, barely open. She seemed perpetually on the verge of slumber. She hardly reacted when the guards grabbed her, and she was no more vital as she was brought to a cavernous chamber, restrained, and then left alone with Queen Xicralia and her most favored courtesan, Jahla.
From a throne of baleful obsidian, clad in a violet cloak and long black boots, Queen Xicralia surveyed her captive while Jahla stood demurely off to her right.
The woman hung suspended in the air before them, a complicated assortment of ropes and straps holding her fast, her limbs stretched taut so that her naked body formed a rigid X. Her head was unrestrained, and it drooped pitifully to her chin. Looking thoroughly trounced, she seemed unwilling or unable to meet Queen Xicralia's gaze.
"It was all too easy to bind you so," boasted Queen Xicralia. "How meekly you submitted to your fate."
Jahla recalled it similarly. The woman had seemed sluggish and impotent. Not once had she resisted the rough handling of Queen Xicralia's guards. In fact, it was as if she had
acceded
to her enthrallment.
"Yet prior to your capture," continued Queen Xicralia, absently noting the gleaming silver buckles of her own long boots, "I sensed a vigorous effort to encroach upon my mind. No doubt this was your furtive attempt to enter and control it. Is this not true, psychic vulture? Is this not true, foul mind-ruffler?"
The woman rolled her head slightly and saliva dribbled to the floor. But she did not respond.
"Enchanters and thaumaturges far more powerful than yourself have sought to access and control my mind," noted Queen Xicralia, looking now at her captive, "and yet none has succeeded. Your feeble attempts were destined to fail. I am impervious to psychic entreaties."
Jahla thought back to the various times that necromancers--either for their own gain or on behalf of obscure employers--had attempted to force Queen Xicralia into mental submission, and how inevitably they had failed. She shuddered, knowing well the queen's dominant tendencies and her lust for punishing those foolish enough to challenge her. A few fools had tried, and all of them had encountered the queen's unbreakable resistance before suffering unspeakable fates--sometimes at the hands of the queen's torturers, sometimes at her own.
Queen Xicralia was a vicious, domineering figure, in whom Jahla could discern no softness. In fact she had never, in Jahla's memory, exhibited any sign of vulnerability. She did not experience suffering; she meted it out.
Surely the bound woman now recognized this as well--though Jahla doubted, based on the woman's drooling, listless countenance, that she were capable of recognizing anything at the moment.
"Your efforts, though impotent, have obviously strained you," observed Queen Xicralia, frowning in disgust at her captive. "It would have been wiser to hone your capacities before attempting such a foolhardy endeavor. Earlier this evening, I thought I had detected a powerful sorceress to combat and lord over. But clearly I was mistaken."
Jahla recognized the tenor of her ruler's voice. She knew how much Queen Xicralia enjoyed toying with her captives, yet she also knew the capriciousness of her sadism, and how quickly it subsided into idle curiosity and then, abruptly, into total indifference. She suspected the proceedings would soon end.
"In a moment I will depart this room," announced the queen, "and you will begin a slow death at the hands of my torturers. I am not sufficiently intrigued by you to personally deliver torments upon your body."
Hearing this, Jahla felt a surge of fear, or perhaps lust, for this meant that the queen would almost certainly redirect her unspent sadistic energy upon her favored courtesan later that night. It was a not infrequent occurrence.
"But now, before I take my leave," spoke Queen Xicralia, "I must confess to an idle curiosity."
She paused, placing a long, violet-lacquered finger to her lips, studying the woman.
"Your powers were unrefined and unremarkable, to be sure, but I did feel a strong current of
desire
behind their use. It has been some time since I detected desire so potent."
The queen's eyes narrowed.
"So I now command you, clumsy mind-trifler: Find your tongue and tell me what you so ineptly sought."
All of a sudden, for the first time, the woman's body roused from its lethargy. An imperceptible electric charge coursed through her limbs and her hands stretched wide, fingers straining. Then her head steadied and she looked up slightly, just enough to rest her still-barely-open eyes upon Queen Xicralia's boots.
Finally she spoke.
"Your feet, Queen Xicralia. I should like to see your bare feet."
At this, the queen threw back her head and laughed uproariously, the sound echoing around them.
"Ha! My feet? You should have sought my gold." She grinned malevolently. "Nobody in the realm is permitted to see my feet. Not even Jahla, my most favored courtesan, has seen them."
It was true. Despite years of service, in both official and intimate capacities, Jahla had never been granted a glimpse of her queen's debooted feet. She had wondered, however...
"So too is it known," continued Queen Xicralia, gesturing toward her legs, "that these boots can be removed only by my hand. They were custom built for me by the Magician Flidivia: a sorceress far more powerful than yourself, but one who, alas, no longer lives."
Queen Xicralia smiled, as if remembering a fond memory.
"Before Flidivia's... shall we say
timely
demise, the sorceress ensured that these boot buckles could be loosened only by my hand, and only if I willed it."
Haughtily, she leaned forward in her throne and spread her long legs, snarling down at her captive.
"But of course I do not will it."
She lingered for a moment in this imperious pose, but then she leaned back and sighed.
"But why am I prattling on? Surely this lore is known to you, as it is to the realm. Very likely it is precisely this lore which has given rise to your desire. Whatever the case, you shall remain unsated, as others before you."
She tapped her lacquered fingers on the throne, waiting for a response--or at least some further movement--from her captive. None was offered. The woman merely stared at the queen's boots.