A Fading Shadow

Floating orbs of light formed a circle inside a forest clearing. Within the circle lied a crowd standing before a raised platform, built from blocks and planks of wood. The stage was made of a dark wood, and featured engraved patterns on the side facing the audience. Upon the stage a woman danced, wearing only a necklace with a large pink gem in the shape of a teardrop. Her dark brown hair reached down to her waist, but did little to preserve her modesty as it flowed with her dancing. The crowd before her shouted bids as her athletic body swayed and swung before them. As the bids grew higher, the woman's body began to tremble. Her dancing slowed and her breath became heavy. One member of the audience shouted above the others, and everything seemed to freeze. The audience stopped bidding, and the dancer stood shakily in place, blushing through her tanned skin.

Another woman stepped up the stairs to the side of the platform and stood near the dancer. Her figure was voluptuous, and her skin seemed white next to her black dress, boots, gloves, and hair. Her bright red lips pouted before asking, "Are there no other bids?" The only response was silence.

"Then she is yours," Said the woman as she placed her arm around the dancer. The women kissed, the dancer whimpering as their lips met. The slimmer woman fell to her hands and knees, body shaking wildly as she let out a moan of ecstasy. She stood slowly; still catching her breath as she shakily left the stage to join her new owner.

In a tree near the edge of a clearing, a figure watched the gathering. Wearing a brown cloak, she could easily be mistaken for part of a tree. She was a spy from a nearby kingdom. While the selling and ownership of slaves wasn't expressly forbidden under the rule she worked for, there were limits. Most of the audience wore a mask or hood to conceal their identity, this fact made her all the more suspicious.

Another woman walked onto the stage from behind the platform. The new slave seemed to contrast the last greatly. She lacked a tan, and her chest and hips had a more generous curve. She timidly made her way to there the trader was standing, face flushed. Her golden blonde curls brushed over her shoulders as she meekly bowed before the audience. The only thing she seemed to have in common with the previous woman was that the only thing she wore was a jewel necklace; identical in design, but her gem was a light blue color. She stood silent. The slave trader whispered gently in the slave's ear, and she blushed deeper in response.

"You may begin bidding." The hostess said before returning to an elegant wooden chair at the side of the stage.

The first few offers came slowly, and were modest. The buyers seemed less enticed without a performance. One guest made a strong offer, and the woman let out a whimper and twitched. The crowd hushed in surprise, and then a higher bid came. The slave let out a moan and started to cross her arms over her waist. For a short while, the audience seemed to enjoy her response as the price rose. Some of them tried outbidding each other by a pittance at a time, but there was no change in the woman in response to those meager increases. Serious offers resumed, the slave becoming visibly more embarrassed, aroused, or possibly both as her price climbed. Eventually, it seemed a struggle for her just to stay standing. She shook wildly, was very flushed, and was gasping for air, whimpering each time she exhaled. The trader approached the woman, helping her to stay upright as the auction started to slow. After a pause, the slaver asked if there would be further bids. After a few moments of silence, she confirmed the woman's purchase. The slave wrapped her arms around her seller's neck, offering her lips. The other woman responded by circling her arms around the woman's quivering body, and stepping forward with one leg before completing the kiss. The slave screamed, her voice muffled by two sets of lips. Her body shook wildly, and it seemed clear that she'd be writhing on the floor without the other woman holding her up.

The spy watched through her scope, the magnified view making up quite well for what she couldn't hear from the distance.

"No question about it, those are sex slaves."

Quietly, the woman descended the tree, and sneaked around the edge of the clearing, making her way to a closer vantage point.

The spy found cover behind a large tree at the very edge of the circle. She sat in it's shadow, listening as she waited for an opportunity. She dared not peek around the tree, she was so close that peering around would give her away should anyone glance in her direction. She sat quietly as several more women were sold, staring at the patterns of light beside her cover so that she might know if anyone approached.

A few sales later, the sound of the auction became intense and unusual. The slave's needy voice shouted, "Yes! Yes! More!" between rhythmic moans.

"Prostitution out in the open?"

The spy thought. When she looked, she simply saw a slave dancing. This woman had short red hair which almost danced like fire as her slender body gyrated. A deep crimson jewel swung from her neck. Like the other slaves, it was the only thing she wore. She was alone, but her movements were as convincing as her voice; She thrust her hips, bounced in place, and ground her crotch against the air as she shouted enthusiastic cries at the audience.

"Is her partner invisible?"

thought the spy, staring intensely for any indication of an unseen lover; Watching her breasts for hand shaped indents, or her nether lips to be parted by something unseen. She continued to watch the performance until the trader approached the slave, and swiftly ducked back into the shadow realizing she might be spotted as focus faded from the stage.

"Don't be so entranced by such displays."

She scolded herself.

After accepting the final bid, the trader slightly crouched, extending her upper leg to the slave. As the women kissed, the slave straddled the trader's thigh, grinding against it as she let out a satisfied moan. The trader turned back to the guest who had bought the last slave.

"Be sure you give this one the extra attention she needs." She said with a subtle playfulness to her tone as she dismissed the last slave. The hostess slowly walked to the front center of the stage.

"I expect all of you to treat them properly. That will be all for tonight." she said sternly before she stepped down the side of the stage.

As the crowd dispersed down a few trails, The hostess walked over to one of the floating orbs that lit the clearing. The sphere dimmed and gently fell into her hands, revealing itself to be a tiny crystal inside a white cloth. A pair of men were disassembling the platform and loading the parts into a compartment in the side of a wagon. Hearing the clearing grow almost silent, and seeing the light become less intense, the spy carefully peered around the tree. She watched the lights and platform being taken down. The woman was still gathering the lights as the men loaded the final parts of the platform into the wagon, and then climbed a set of steps into the back of it, disappearing behind a black curtain that topped the back half of the wagon.

"She's alone."

The spy said to herself.

"Now to catch her and get some answers."

She leaped from behind the tree as the slave trader took the last light, approaching the from behind with a long but gentle stride, planting herself near the woman to seize her. She grabbed the trader's shoulder, and suddenly froze in place. Turning around, the other woman examined the spy, stuck standing with a raised arm and a dagger in the other hand, tip still in the sheath on her belt where her arm stopped.

"Come to my home with me." The trader said, and the spy sheathed her dagger and followed the other woman.

"What's happening? Why am I following her? Why couldn't I move?"

the spy thought, finding herself helpless but to take a seat in the slave trader's wagon.

The trader flicked the reigns, causing the four horses in front of the wagon to begin pulling.

"So tell me, Where did you come from, and why did you assault me?"

The spy remained silent.

"Very well, I'll ask again once you're within my home. You won't be able to refuse there."

***

The spy "awoke" in an unfamiliar place. The room was dimly lit, but she saw a person in front of her.

"It's her!"

thought the spy, recognizing the slave seller before her.

"I grabbed her and then. . ."

She ran through her memory, unable to recall anything after the moment she touched the other woman.

The captive looked back at the woman in front of her, the gaze returned by icy blue eyes radiating with a sadistic joy and a pair of blood red lips twisted into a sadistic smile. Faint skin still seemed devoid of color next to deep red lips and shining black hair.

Silk wrapped perfectly over the pale skin. Gloves ran from fingertips almost to the elbow with hardly a noticeable wrinkle. Her dress gently hugged the curves of her soft body. The top of the garment gently wrapped over her chest, barely more than halfway above her bosom, the hem stretched over the valley between her breasts. It flowed down waist like a coat of paint. A slit began on each side of her hips, and the halves gently parted around them. The cloth hung freely, ending around the middle of her calf. Leather boots wrapped over her calf just as immaculately, like a second skin until the ankle, where they began to look more ordinary, having a roughly diamond shape with rounded edges, and a slightly raised block heel that set the feet at a gentle tilt.

Feeling cold air over her skin, the spy realized she'd been stripped bare, though her hands and feet were wrapped snugly within something. She lay at an angle with her arms above her, each set of limbs gently parted. The way she was restrained wasn't uncomfortable in the least. In fact, it felt like she was on a soft bed that perfectly fit her body. Only her head could move freely.

"How did I get here?"

she wondered, gently testing her bonds. Her hands, wrists, feet and ankles were perfectly encased.

The slaver admired and examined her captive's body, glancing downward at her victim's angled position. The woman was laid over a black mass, lumps in it encasing her hands to the wrist and her feet to the ankle. A deep brown curtain of hair reached her shoulders with a gentle curve. Lighter brown eyes stared back through a part in front.

Naturally, the woman was athletic. Her body was toned, but still had feminine curves. Faint skin indicated a limited exposure to the sun, probably from being active mainly at night. A subtle tan covered her arm to just past the elbow. The flesh was dotted with countless scars, scratches, and other assorted damages.

Their eyes locked. A gloved hand reached to the spy's cheek, fingers trailing the jaw line to the chin, and then down the neck. The captor played her fingers over the collarbone, and then placed her palm on her victim's shoulder, fanning out her fingers as she slid it down to her chest. Her hand stopped over the breast, gently resting over it.

The trapped woman stared back.

"She's testing me."

she thought.

The other woman explored her body by touch, not lowering her gaze for a moment. The prisoner felt another hand at her hip, caressing to her waist, down to her outer thigh, and back up to repeat. Silken fingers played over her bare skin. The first hand gently cupped her breast, and a circle of fingertips tightened around it, pulling it softly.

"Don't fight, don't submit."

She thought to herself, starting a mantra drilled into her to resist abuse and torture.

The lower hand shifted to the front of her thigh, stroking from knee to hip. She felt fingers tease their way to her navel, gently circling it and traveling lower. The digits fanned over her crotch, and then began to press against the skin and fan out, parting her nether lips. The woman continued to stare back blankly as her body was explored.

Being probed and prodded was nothing new to her. She was routinely desensitized to abuse of all types. The captor's cruel smile slowly faded, sensing no noticeable reaction to the prodding, even as it grows intimate. Both hands traveled to the chest of their victim, and each began to squeeze a breast, as though milking it. The nipples were pinched tightly, and slowly pulled until the flesh was taut. As the violator released, her face held a slight frown as the other woman stared back calmly.

"I knew better than to hope I could rile you so easily, but it's still a bit disappointing." said the slaver, falling back as a mahogany chair with emerald cushioning moved under her.

"I'm sure you're well prepared to resist physical abuse of any kind, but it's unlikely you're prepared for this."

So much as idle conversation was to be avoided. The spy was fully in a passive trance. She was hardly aware she was being spoken to, much less intimidated by the threat.

"Don't fight, don't submit."

She continued to focus on her mantra.

The other woman leaned back into the chair, crossing her legs, and made an odd gesture with one hand. The captured woman felt something creep up her as small tendrils started to climb up her body. A series of black stripes slid over her skin, wrapping over the sides of her arms, legs and torso. An odd tingle started to flow from them. The feeling grew stronger and started to radiate across her skin feeling like a humming massage from the inside. The sensation began intensifying around her wrists, the feeling penetrating to the core of her arms as it flowed downward. It started to seep into her shoulders, and travel down her torso. As it flowed over her chest, She let out a small gasp, her nipples feeling much more sensitive to the energy flowing into her. Her trance was disrupted; The other woman began to grin.

The strength of the stimulation intensified at the captive's feet, and started to flow up her legs. The downward wave slowed as it traveled down her waist. She restarted her internal mantra, trying to return to her passive trance. The intensifying waves of pleasure traveling through her body slowly converged, finally meeting between her legs. She was unable to hold back a whimper as her core responded. She lost more and more control as her body responded to the energy humming through her. Her limbs quivered, her breath came out in gasps, and a growing tension in her center started to beg for release.

"Don't!"

her mantra had a false start as her resolve weakened. She fought the urge to bite her lip. She could do nothing but wait, feeling tortured by every moment as her climax approached.

"Don't!"

she shouted internally, the word having become a silent protest against her body for giving in, her captor for the torment, and herself for wanting release. She let out a long groan, feeling the sensations flowing out from her core intermingle with those flowing in as both slowly faded, leaving her breathing roughly and hanging limp from her bonds.

"How was that? Like nothing you've felt before I'm sure."

Rising from her chair, the violator approached her victim, placing her hand under her captive's chin, and lifting her head to see the tired and blank stare.

"Don't fight. Don't submit."

She tried to regain her trance.

"I know how you were trained to react when captured. You want to remain passive. You don't want to reward me by submitting, or provoke me by resisting. But under my care, you're helpless to do even that. I can force pleasure into your body and play you like an instrument if I want."

The threat sunk in, and her mantra became powerless as her anxiety grew. The chair pulled closer as the other woman lowered herself into it, making another hand gesture as she leaned back. The small tendrils shot a short but powerful wave of their strange energy, causing the woman let out a surprised yelp and jolt in her restraints. A few moments of silence later another pulse came, prompting a short whine. The waves continued in a slowly increasing rhythm. She started matching her breathing to the pace, inhaling between the beats. Her mantra echoed uselessly in her mind, desperately quickening her internal recitation to fit between the assaults. As the pace increased, she split the phrase to one word each pause.

Finally, a wave hit her halfway through thinking the word 'submit.' The interruption caused her to let out a moan, and give up on her mantra.

She already felt her body building towards another orgasm as the pauses between the pulses became too short to notice. The waves started to overlap, until they joined into a continuous buzzing that triggered her release, signaled by a long moan. The feeling of her climax was accompanied by the slowing pulses, rapidly dropping in frequency as her body relaxed.

"I know you enjoyed that, you simply didn't have a choice." Her tormenter said, rising from her chair as it drifted away. "I'll be leaving you now, you can be as boring as you want, you'll make a nice ornament." She walked close to her captive, whispering in her ear; "But if you ever get tired of that however, just say 'I'm yours mistress.' and I'll have a nice treat for you."

With a gentle push, the mass holding the woman seemed to glide into a corner. Her body shifted upright as the mass holding her gripped the wall. Her captor left through a door beside where she was mounted, leaving her alone, the odd buzzing still haunting her.

***

"How long has it been?"

she thought. She had nothing but time to think, and had long run out of things she wanted to think about. One of the first things she thought about was the odd form of torture she experienced. It didn't take long for her to realize the woman that captured her was a witch. It wasn't something she was prepared for; magic was considered the thing of myths and overactive imaginations, even by someone like herself whose life revolved around secrets beyond the imagination of most normal people. After that realization, anything else she bothered to contemplate reminded her of how helpless she was. Her bonds were nothing she understood, and showed no weakness of any kind. The witch didn't seem to want anything more of her. The woman asserted her power already, and now paid her no more attention than the occasional glance while passing by or working.

There were no windows to the outside, or any other indicators of time. She never grew tired, hungry, or thirsty. If not for two things, she might think time had stopped. The first was her captor. The witch would spend hours at a desk, either writing, performing mysterious rituals, and producing an endless series of potions. The other was the continued humming of strange energy flowing from the thing cradling her body. It assailed her in different ways, changing the direction it flowed through her, or the pattern of intensity, never stopping completely.

Her skin buzzed near the little fingers, and then the feeling spread; It was starting to intensify again. The energy flowed inward, coming from all sides. The sensation slowly covered her, causing her to squirm as the wave reached her more sensitive areas and her core. The intensity held steady, slowly exciting her body. The tension in her center went from nagging, to clawing. The anticipation in her body started to push into her mind, causing her to whimper rhythmically as her breath became rough. Her voice steadily rose in pitch as she neared release.

She let out a disappointed sigh. Since being placed on the wall, her torture began in earnest. The odd pleasure fed into her body always died down as she hit the cusp of climax, never soothing the ache it triggered. Following another disappointment, the witch's offer returned to her mind.