Nicole's Note: This story features a female POV and contains spiral eye hypnosis, headpetting, humiliation, some reference to coils sliding "between legs", dubious consent, and everything else listed in the tags. Real-life con-noncon requires a lot of trust, safewords, and other things a fantasy can fudge a little. Enjoy the kink responsibly, and enjoy the story!
After spending so long determined to leave the village farms and seek her fortunes out in the wilds, Primrose had never thought she could be
quite
so happy to see a cornfield.
The rain pounded down on her hard, drenching her clothes, as if the entire ocean had decided to pick itself up and drop itself right on a single hapless adventurer in the Greatest, Darkest Forest. She bit her lip and pulled her hood down further, then, with a sigh, cast the hood off--it was so drenched, there was really no saving her hair, even if she
hadn't
forgotten to pack her satin night bonnet that morning.
She felt like a bedraggled cat left out to the autumn rains as she hurried down the old path, reluctantly leaving the relative shelter of the old madrones for the exposed field. The cornstalks were not even up to her ankles yet, and the mud around them drank the rain greedily. Primrose privately thanked her stars that her grandmother had insisted on her taking the good traveling boots with her.
Not that she'd needed help preparing for her journey. She smirked, despite the rain pouring down her face and utterly ruining all the styling she'd done to her dark curls that morning. Hadn't she been preparing to go adventuring for years? Hadn't she studied at the Monastery, learned from tavern adventurers and the local Spirit Ranger? What was a little rain to someone like her?
She kept telling herself that as her right boot got left behind in the mud and she had to quickly slip her stockinged foot back inside and, using both hands, wrench foot and boot free of the bog.
Thank the gods for this field. Where there was corn, there would be a farmer. A nice old farmer, who would let her, a mysterious, no-doubt seasoned adventurer, sleep in his spare room. His attic. His cellar. His barn, for goodness' sakes.
But as she reached the far side of the field and set her foot down on a mercifully solid stone path, she frowned. The planting of the corn was erratic and without organization. No lights shown from within the forest.
Primrose groaned. Of course. An abandoned farm.
She hesitated, then scurried under a tall, leafy oak for some shelter and took off her backpack, rummaging around for a second before retrieving the old lantern she'd bought off the tinker--a lamp which now seemed pitifully useless against the pouring rain and starless sky, but it was better than nothing.
It took her several tries to light it, and her face reddened with each try. Everything was so gods-damned wet! Finally, with the third try, a warm glow flared from behind foggy glass.
As light filled the field and began dancing off the falling raindrops around her, Primrose squinted, then smiled, as she spotted...
something
. A house? A shack? Whatever it was, it was absolutely covered in moss, such that it almost blended in with the rest of the forest. No wonder she hadn't spotted it. But it was a building.
Feeling very proud of herself, Primrose hurried up to the entrance. It appeared to be an old abandoned barn. The peasant girl in her noted the waterlogged boards, the moss- and lichen-devoured exterior, and guessed that this field was likely only occasionally sown and harvested by a nearby town, likely one with nobody currently eager to rent it out for the last year or two. The corn that grew likely grew naturally from volunteer plants. Leftovers from previous years. This far from town--if there was still a town at all--no doubt it was an undesirable spot, used by newcomers or young farmers who needed to show they knew how to take care of a crop.
So there was no friendly farmer around to help her, no kindly farmer's wife to fix her some tea and get her a fresh change of clothes. Primrose sniffed, reaching up and wiping a trail of water from her forehead and bangs. Not that an adventurer like her required such frivolous creature comforts.
She reached forward, hesitated, then pulled on the door.
The barn door creaked with the sadness of waterlogged wood long-abandoned to the seasons as it swung reluctantly open, allowing the sweet, musty scent of old hay to wash over Primrose. As dust and must tickled her nose, Primrose sneezed.
It was a tiny sneeze--frankly a little embarrassing, and the villagers had sometimes joked that for all her talk, she sneezed like a just-hatched chicklet--but the sound nonetheless echoed riotously over the wooden walls and dirt floor.
"Excuse me!" she said instinctively. Her words likewise bounced back to her, and she couldn't help but giggle.
The barn appeared quite unoccupied--the hay in it seemed well-preserved enough, but totally untouched, and she guessed it had been stockpiled in anticipation of a harsh winter that never came. Or maybe the hay wasn't any good for some reason. Contaminated with mellow-weed or the like. Still, it smelled pleasant. The golden hills rose and fell throughout the barn and loft, promising a certain limited degree of softness and comfort.
If one didn't mind scratchiness. Primrose pulled a face. But it was better than the cold mud. Being on high ground, the barn's interior had even avoided most of the dampness.
After finding a good dry corner of the haystacks, Primrose set about getting ready for her first true night as an adventurer. She undid her nice green cloak, and paused to wring it out as thoroughly as possible before laying it out over the hay as a sort of 'sheet'. She shook rivulets of water from her curly black hair, then, very carefully, undid the blue-green ribbon she used to tie it up out of her large bright brown eyes. She didn't have anything to cover it with, so she'd just have to deal with some extra frizziness in the morning.
She set down her pack and, finally, considered taking off her boots and stockings. But she hesitated, eyeing the hay untrustingly. What if there were thistles? Her feet tingled even at the thought. Primrose had rather sensitive soles.
Besides, she assured herself, she might need to leave in a hurry. A real adventurer didn't care about sleeping with their boots on, surely.
She'd already decided not to bother with her cousin's old bedroll. It smelled like sheep. ANyways, the hay would at least be soft, even if it was scratchy. She set the bedroll aside and lay back gingerly onto the haystack.
It wasn't as scratchy as she'd expected. The hay was very fine--full of clovers and fescue--and it made for surprisingly comfortable bedding as long as she didn't mind the occasional tickle. Primrose gave a long, leisurely stretch, and sighed gratefully as she felt her joints cracking and popping with relief. Then, reaching over, she doused the lantern.
Her eyes closed.
Sleep usually came easily to Primrose. The cloistermage monk who'd taught her had liked to say she had a mind naturally unmoored, which Primrose took as a compliment--she was a free thinker, after all, and nothing like the other girls of her village. She didn't care about makeup or finding a wife or a nice, easy local trade or fancy clothes or any of that nonsense. She just went wherever her heart and whims led her. It made falling asleep easy, whether she was in bed, in a barn, or attending a
particularly
boring lesson.
Drifting in her thoughts like this, Primrose smiled contentedly and let her mind drift into the warm, comforting darkness of sleep. It had been a long day. She'd surely earned some...
ssssss
... she shifted.
Rest.
sssss
Primrose stirred uneasily. She could swear she'd heard something.
Rain pattered on the roof up above. Mice scurried about out of sight. From outside, a no-doubt very unhappy and bedraggled lich owl let loose a sibilant shriek.
Otherwise, silence curled around her in the barn like a cozy, slumbering housecat.
She went completely still. Her eyes fluttered open, then narrowed.
sssss
There it is again!
Primrose sat bolt-upright. She looked around, eyes narrowing. Was there an animal in here with her? The brief thought of it being a bear or something flitted across her mind and made her heart race, but she quickly dismissed it. Surely a bear would avoid a place that still smelled of humans. And the door had been closed.
Her ears tingled as a new sound greeted her from above:
The loud creaking of old wood.
Was that... her brow furrowed. Was that coming from outside the barn? She couldn't see anything up in the shadowy loft, and surely anything large enough to make the wood creak like that wouldn't fit up in such a narrow space, much less have been able to climb up there with the rickety ladder.
She listened in silence for a moment, trying without success to ease her racing heart.
Another creak. Okay, that was
definitely
coming from above her. It was either in the loft or on the roof.
She got to her feet with a sigh and, after a pause, retrieved her sheathed sword and loosened it a little, just in case. With her other hand, she clumsily re-lit the lantern--very careful to do so close to the lantern, remembering how dangerous open flames could be in a place like this--and picked it up as well. She wasn't going to just up and leave, but... well, at least she'd take a look.
She walked over to the closed barn door.
It was hard to open from the inside--there was no handle, just a rope, and Primrose had to lean into her pull before she was able to force the door to slide to the side.
She stepped back out into the pouring rain with a grimace. The rain swept down on her from above like falling waves, thundering around her like a thousand running horses. The lantern light barely helped. It mainly seemed keen on illuminating pale raindrops.
She looked to the right. Darkness.
She looked to the left. Darker darkness.
Primrose sighed. She couldn't hear anything now--certainly not in the pouring rain. But what kind of creature would be out on a night like tonight, anyways?
She took one step further out, squinting into the black of night.
Still seeing nothing, she turned to walk back inside--
--and Primrose tripped.
Primrose was light on her feet, graceful, even, and quite unaccustomed to tripping and falling on her face like some clumsy ditz. So when her foot hooked underneath some sort of tree root, she thrust her arms out, flailed, dropped her lantern, positively flung her sword away from her, and fell right down on her butt in the mud.
The lantern went out, and darkness flooded in.
After a moment of pure shock, Primrose lunged for where the lantern had been. She had to feel around in the mud for a moment before, to her relief, she felt the familiar warm smoothness of glass. She grabbed the lantern by its loop, reached into her pocket, and drew out a match.
She cursed herself as she struggled to light the stupid thing, even as her heart raced with lingering panic. She could
swear
that root hadn't been there before. Her trousers were getting soaked, but she didn't want to present any bigger of a target by getting up. Not until she could see her surroundings. Some fear still dripped from her heart like the mud dripping from her arms.
The match lit, then went out immediately from the rain. "Fuck!" she muttered, pulling out another. Her anger gave her luck, perhaps, as this one flared into life on the first try. She quickly reached in and lit the wick before this fire could die too.
Reassuring light poured back into her world, and she gave a groan of annoyed relief.
"Oh, thank
goodnessss
!" exclaimed an unfamiliar voice right in front of her. "I was beginning to worry."
Primrose froze as stiff as a stick of driftwood.
Slowly, she raised her eyes back to the open barn door--and a bit above her--and met a pair of beautiful golden eyes. And attached to those eyes, just inside the open doorway, was the most bewitchingly pretty face Primrose thought she had ever seen. The face happened to be hanging upside-down.
Primrose blinked slowly. The eyes mimicked her blink.
It took her another full moment to understand what she was seeing.
It was a woman. A gorgeous woman with ruby-red hair cascading down and pooling on the barn floor beneath her. She had a comely round face flattered by a cute wide button nose, cedar-red dimples rising over a dazzling, winsome smile that immediately sent fireflies swarming in Primrose's belly, that instinctive fluttering
