Bravo
By Eddie
This is a sequel to "Harmless". It'll mean more if you read that story first, but this should make sense without.
The formatting here is pretty complicated, so a key:
Italic text
is the Bravo's perceptions. This is what she sees, hears, feels, smells, tastes.
Boldface
is emphasis.
Underscore
represents the Bravo's visualizations. It's what she's picturing at that moment.
[Brackets] are the Bravo's thoughts, or what literature teachers would call "interior dialogue".
... She was suddenly very aware of the stone phallus in her right hand and the smoldering between her legs.
[Well, that went well. Failed to land a single blow, bound, tortured with pleasure into betraying the man who hired me, magicked into having uncontrollable lust, and left tied arse upmost on a bed, not even able to pleasure myself without this ... I don't know ... statue of a man's member.]
She struggled for a short time.
Feeling the cold of the enchanted silver chain around her neck, pulling her arms, bound by a living rope belt that wouldn't let her hands below her navel. She was already feeling raw spots where the rope had rubbed her skin. Unable to even shift her head, the silver collar leashed to the headboard. Tension as she failed to move her legs, held by more enchanted cloth to the foot of the bed.
She knew from the beginning that she wouldn't be able to break free from the magical bonds. She just didn't want to admit that she'd have to resort to the wizard's little joke.
Flames in her center, flaring higher with the effort. Sound of her own desire-filled panting.
[I don't want to surrender to this, but ...]
Sound of her loud breathing. Breath catching, irregular, as if she was gasping for air. Pressure of her face on the pillow, feel of the mattress straw poking the sensitive orbs on her chest through the ticking, of her uncovered nipples rubbing against the rough cloth. Desperate strain to reach her own privates with her right hand, failing as she knew it would.
[Fine. I do believe he was sincere about not hating me. This should at least be pleasant, and nobody will ever know, so it shouldn't even be embarrassing.] She felt around
fingers sliding over the linen ticking of the mattress, feeling the depression the stone phallus was lying in, touching its cool, smooth surface. Fingers sliding along its length, finding the bulbous end pointing toward the head of the bed, unconsciously caressing it because she was thinking of it as a man's root. It began to warm!
She instinctively drew back, startled and slightly frightened. [Is this something the cursed wizard did? Is this thing alive? It can't be ... he wouldn't keep parts of a dead man or something!]
Ticking on the mattress tugs at her skin. The
thing
is moving! Moving toward her head.
Leashed and bound hand and foot, all she could do was cringe. Reach for the thing, but it already crawled out of her bound hand's reach. [Of course. The wizard made his clothes move as if they were alive. Why couldn't he do that to a stone man-stem?] Clearly, he could.
Face-down was awkward. She managed to turn her head toward her right side.
Grayish stone cylinder, three times the thickness of her thumb, with a bulbous head, twice as long as her hand. Moving by wriggling, rather like a snake, moving past her shoulder.
[If I scream, I'll be heard. The wizard said he was removing all of his magic, so there's no spell of silence now. Do I want to be found like this? Is it worse than ... whatever this thing going to do?]
Stone moving toward her face. Touching her lips, warm and slightly soft(!). In fact, it felt remarkably like a man's stem, pushing against her lips.
It reminded her suddenly of the time she had fallen, half-drunk, into Kishek's bed, drifted to sleep, and woken up to his half-drunk pawing and then his half-hard member trying to enter her mouth. [This is so much like that. In fact, it tastes almost like Kishek.]
Salty, tasting like sweat but with a bit of male musk. Soft with a hardness inside.
[It's in my mouth! I just let it in, didn't even close my teeth. And it feels and tastes exactly like Kishek. It even tastes unwashed. The wizard couldn't know about that one night. Is this thing ... does it know my thoughts?]
Wiggling round soft thing in her mouth, pushing in and in, somehow.
[How does this cursed thing move, anyway?] Reaching the back of her tongue. Gagging sensation, sound of her own choking, pulling her head up away from the pillow as far as she could while leashed, feeling the silver chain circling her neck tighten, pushing at the thing with her tongue, shaking her head. It slipped out and slid onto the pillow. Deep breaths, glaring at it.
[Think! Wait, maybe that's it. Is it reacting to my thoughts and memories? Kishek's was the biggest member I ever saw--did this thing remind me of him? And then it did what I was remembering? What if I ....]
Feeling the warmth and wetness between her legs.
[That cursed wizard's potion is still affecting, igniting me.]
Tension around her wrists--she was struggling with the binding again.
[Time to enjoy the wizard's perverse gift?]
One reason she had survived her violent life: she planned out her attacks carefully, step-by-step and motion-by-motion. Some people planned by writing. She struggled with her letters, far too slow to use them for this. She pictured things, saw them in her mind as clearly as she later would with her eyes. Now ...
[What do I want it to do?] In her mind:
phallus, lying on the pillow before her eyes, bends upward, extending its head toward her mouth, becoming hard to see because it is too close.
She closed her eyes, relying on only her mind's sight. And
